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dustpages · 4 months ago

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Entangled Feelings (Mina)

WC: 7.5k

It could have been either bless or a course, you didn't know yet. She was the only person you could call family, yet her demeanour was far off from what is the classic representation of a good parent.

Mina adopted you when you were still a child, you had no memories of your biological parents.

You have had the best education she could afford to give you, and she wasn't even that bad as a person to be around while you were growing up. She was fun to be around and was her fun to play with you to video games during your spare time.

Yet Mina didn't renounce to hang out with her friends and go partying when they had the chance, you had seen her coming home more than a few times wasted, but nonetheless the day after she was always up before you preparing breakfast for you.

You weren't blind, you had always known Mina was a drop-dead gorgeous woman. Attractive but cute, able to stay at home wearing a flannel pj for a long weekend and going out all decked out like she was about to strike everyone's heart, and surely she could do it.

When puberty hit you, it did hard. Your hormones were galloping like thoroughbred, especially thanks to Mina and her mini dress she used to wear when she was around the house, and she could tell the effect she had on you. During the the years some of her panties went missing, and weird stains on her tops; all of that was a fun game for her. She was teasing you all along, and you were powerless against her.

It was Saturday afternoon, Ginza, Mina wanted to go shopping with you tagging along. You weren’t enjoying the experience in the slightest, you didn’t like trying on clothes and most of all you found it unfair to carry all items in the shopping bags Mina bought.

“Come on stop whining, you are just carrying the few things I purchased like a man should do for his woman. Now let’s head to the Fendi store there’s a new bag I wanna look for, if you are gonna be a good boy I will treat you to tonight’s dinner in my favourite sushi place”

During the dinner, glass after glass of the finest Krug champaign, Mina removed her white heels and without anyone noticing started rubbing her right foot on your tights and then manoeuvred to your pelvis area.

Taken aback by her actions you felt stunned.

“ Bloody Nora, what are you doing?” You yelled-whispered

“I am just getting started, this is your treat after all. You have been a good boy for your mum” She praised you continuing the massage on your lower area.

Blue balls are what you got in the end. Mina received a text from her friend Sana, who invited her to a private party in a disco in Roppongi.

“I’m gonna fetch Sana by taxi and then we will head to Roppongi, you should get home and bring the shopping bag safely home. Our business will be postponed” she smiled

Mina didn’t even bother to ask you if you wanted to join her and Sana.

“ Are you gonna party dressed like that?” You complained

“ Of course I am. What’s the point of being all decked out if I cannot show off? Are you afraid I can receive some attention because of my outfit?” She mischievously retorted

“ Suddenly I see, what I could not see, so suddenly you are showing your true colour. What kind of married woman goes out wearing a mini-skirt to show off her bare legs?” You raised the tone of your voice.

“ Someone who wanna have fun, goodnight baby ” Mina raised her arm to call a taxi and in the blink of an eye, she went off.

Gobsmacked you got home an hour later, shattered for carrying all the bags you tossed on the sofa.

“Fuck off, how can she have gone to that party dressed like a hoe” You complained on your own.

5:12 in the morning. That was the moment you heard someone stumbling up the stairs.

Mina managed to enter your bedroom and let herself fall on the bed, landing inevitably on you. Jolted awake you tried to move Mina from your body, but unlucky she had arms and legs spread wide open like a starfish.

“ For god sake Mina, can you move you are smashing me?” you demanded

Mina repositioned herself above you with her legs around your belly and her arms straightened on your chest, in this way, you had the chance to look at her face.

The red lipstick was all ruined, the black eyeliner was all dripped down. She stared into your eyes for a few seconds before lowering her face and trying to kiss you.

“ Never in a million years, I will let you kiss me with those filthy, dirty lips of yours; which god only knows what they have touched” You pushed her back and raised your torso sitting on the bed.

“ You have to think incredibly high of yourself to come here in my room after having had some kind of affair with someone a few hours ago”

“ I might have indulged myself with two salesmen tonight but I’m not satisfied in the slightest, I am still horny and needy. Please me.” She said

At this point, you stood up pushing Mina off of you. You went berserk, the audacity she had to cheat on your father and the family's trust. Might have been the alcohol, might have been the natural bitchy demeanour, but you couldn’t bear to look at her so pretentious and bratty so you swiftly but not too harshly slapped her on her left cheek.

“ I don’t want a hoe in my house. What you did tonight is daunting to process. I am gonna sleep in the tatami room, you can stay here or wherever you like but stay away from me” You didn’t even look at her

As you were about to leave the bedroom.“ Your father knows it, he gave me his permission. I can prove it.”

“Stop it already. I don’t give a flying fuck if my father allowed you to be a free spirit while he is away. I can’t stand to live under the same roof with someone who acts as you do” This was your cue to leave

Morning came, and you woke up with your lower back soaring due to not being used to sleeping on the floor. Mina entered the tatami room wearing a pair of trousers and a crop top T-shirt. “I am so sorry for my demeanour about last night, I shouldn’t have come to your room in the first place, let alone tell you about my night out. What can I do to make it up for you?”

“Don’t go and fuck around like a whore, you should be better than that. When Dad told me about your needs and that it was my new duty to help you with that I felt ecstatic, now I could have the chance to have sex with the woman I have been obsessed with for the last few months. Still, I was unsure about myself. I am not gifted as my father is down there and I have no experience.” You looked down

Mina closed the gap between you two and raised your chin with her right hand. “ I’ll not joke around the dimensions are not important but they are not paramount, if you know how to use your body you’ll have no problem at all. Plus from what I have seen you don’t seem so small either. I can teach you, and you can please me. It’s a win-to-win situation.” Mina softly kissed you on the cheeks.

"I'm sorry for being a bitch but I have been so horny since your dad left, it's so frustrating, so now, we are gonna have the first lesson if you don’t mind. I'll squeeze you dry until I'm satisfied". "Now, just take them off~" she sighed as you bit her neck. You put your hand into her trousers.

"Don't rush into it" she whispered, she grabbed your hand and put it on her breast. Her tits aren't huge, but still satisfyingly handful. You slipped off your T-shirt, throwing it to the side. You leaned forward, kissing her breast through her bra, your hands worked their way up, slowly pulling her bra up.

Your lips teased her breast, biting as she moaned. Your hands trailed down her hips, into her trousers, going right to her underwear.

Mina’s pussy was soaking wet, the love juice pouring onto my thighs like honey. You kneeled and helped Mina to remove her trousers and underwear. Inserting two fingers into her hole "Yabai" she moaned, as your fingers curled inside of her. She moved her hips down, pushing your fingers deeper into her pussy. Your pace quickened a third finger was adamant to be shoved in Mina’s fold. Her walls were closing around them, her hands pulled your hair causing your head to throb. You did not stop, increasing your pace, her pussy walls continued tightening as her body suddenly shook. She came as more of her pussy juice gushed onto the floor galore, shaking like a leaf during a tornado. She placed her hands on your head trying to stand still, as her orgasm subdued you removed your fingers from her womb and gave taste to her juice.

“You know it tastes like honey.” You stood up and not so gently pushed Mina on the tatami mattress.

“Now go on. Fuck me.” Mina spread her legs and arms, waiting for you to put it in. You aligned yourself with her entrance, pushing in slightly. There was some resistance, but you could push past it and inside. You felt Mina’s pussy stretching to accommodate you. Mina’s walls pushed against your cock, and you both moaned. Mina’s cunt was tight and wet. You pushed in more. Without further ado, no time to adjust was given to Mina’s walls, you rammed her pussy like a maniac, grabbing her hips and pushing her towards you.

Various positions were tried, fluids of all genres soaked the tatami mattress, and curses and blasphemies were yelled. Half a dozen of used condoms were scattered near the wall.

“Mina I cannot take anymore, I am about to cum” Mina kept riding you like she was trying to win a race at Ascot.

“Don’t come yet, I am about to. You have to pleasure Mommy once more.” Mina arched her back backwards as she rode her climax out, and then collapsed on your chest. Swiftly you helped Mina off of you and you removed your condom.

“Suck me off like you mean it Mina” Mina placed her lips above your member and bobbed her head up and down swirling her tongue around the tip. With your hands you pushed Mina’s head against your crotch even more, engulfing your penis in her throat. And within a few more minutes you coated Mina’s mouth in white, and as talented as she was not a single drop of jizz went out of her mouth.

With a resounding pop, Mina removed her lips from your member. “ You aren’t bad at all for a newbie. With my training, you will become perfect”

As both of you stood up, you abruptly pinned Mina to the wall almost choking her. “ No more fucking around you get me Miss. You have me now.”

“ This is the possessive little boy I want. Fuck me like you did this morning or better and I have no reasons to look for any other man.” She smirked and rolled her tongue teasing you.

It was a Friday late afternoon, you were climbing the stairs to go to your room. Passing by Mina's room you saw a multitude of clothes scattered on the floor, and Mina was in front of her mirror trying on the umpteenth outfit.

" Nope.. It's not hot enough" She commented about the outfit she was wearing.

She looked up and noticed you entering the room.

" Come here, you need to pick what dress I should wear tonight"

You stood in front of Mina. " And why should I pick the dress? I'm not your boyfriend"

Mina's smile was like the sun breaking through the clouds on a rainy day. " Well, you might not be my boyfriend but you are my son, and your opinion matters. So come on, what dress do you want to see on me tonight?"

You felt a bit awkward, but she had put you in a situation in which you couldn't say no. So, you started trying various dresses on her. It took a good half an hour to find the right one. The final pick was a silver glowing top which left her back totally exposed , a leather skirt with black stockings and leather boots. You were feeling uneasy but you couldn't say no to Mina.

" So you really wanna wear that?" You asked Mina for the third time.

" Yes, I really wanna wear this. Now I wanna see how you wanna dress up tonight." Mina said.

" Me? Why should I dress up? I've never been told to go clubbing tonight." You retorted.

" Didn't I tell you that I'm inviting you out tonight with me and my friends?" Mina questioned.

" No, you didn't." You said.

" Well, I'm inviting you. We will have so much fun together!" Mina's face lit up like a Christmas tree.

You were stunned. " I don't want to go clubbing, it's not my thing." You protested.

" Oh, you need to go with me and have fun. Come on, say yes, pleeease?" She begged you with her puppy dog eyes.

You couldn't resist her begging. " Fine. Let's get this over with." You gave up.

" Yay!" Mina shouted. " Now let's choose your outfit for tonight!"

The next hour was a disaster, Mina was trying on different outfits on you like you were a mannequin. You didn't like it but you didn't want to make her angry. Mina decided you had to wear a black skinny jeans with a white tight T-shirt and a pair of sneakers. She had picked you up a brand new pair of black skinny jeans and she helped you to wear it. Her hands were feeling your body as she was checking if the fit was perfect.

"These jeans are too thight, I can't move my legs" You complained in front of your mirror.

" It's fine, you look perfect, they aren't that skinny, you can move around, and you can wear it tonight" Mina insisted.

You decided to not fight her, after all she had already won. She was the one leading this game.

Mina drove you to the club, you were feeling a bit anxious. You had never been to a club like this before and you were feeling out of place. Mina got out of her car and came to open your door for you.

" Come on, let's go inside!" She said with her signature smile.

Inside the club, the lights were flashing everywhere and the music was blasting your eardrums. The people were dancing as if they were possessed, it was like an inferno.

" This is insane!" You yelled to Mina.

" Isn't it? Come on let's go to the VIP area!" She shouted back.

Mina pulled you through the crowd, you felt like you were gonna pass out due to the heat. The VIP area was less crowded but still quite hot. Mina's friends were there already drinking and dancing.

" Here you are!" Mina shouted to them. " This is my son!"

Mina's friends were quite peculiar. You would expect a woman to have more female friends than males, here wasn't the case. In the group there were 4 girls, Mina included, and 6 men.

All of them stared at you two with weird looks, Mina was the most shining star in the all universe and you were just an average young boy.

Her friends welcomed you two and one of her male friends came to Mina and gave her a kiss on her cheek.

" I'm so happy to see you. I've missed you." He whispered in Mina's ear.

Mina was blushing a bit. " I'm glad to see you too! This is my son, isn't he cute?" Mina said and gave him a pat on the shoulder.

Her male friend was taken aback by her question. " Yeah, whatever. I don't really care about him, you know who I am focused on" He said biting his lips.

You didn't really like how he was acting, he was too flirtatious and Mina was playing with him like a cat with a mouse.

You didn't care for her flirting, it was her life and you knew she wasn't gonna stop, you were a bit jealous but you were trying to ignore it.

Mina was getting a drink for her, and she asked you if you wanted one too. You refused, she pouted a bit but then she shrugged and took a sip of her drink. It didn't take long for her to start dancing, and her male friend joined her soon after.

They danced for a while, Mina was really moving her hips and her friend was getting more and more close to her. You were feeling more and more uneasy, the more they were dancing, the more he was getting close to her. You didn't know what to do, you felt like you needed to protect Mina from this creep but he was a friend of her and she was enjoying his company.

You didn't know what to do.

" I think I'm gonna go outside for a bit.” You said to one of Mina's friends who were remaining at the table.

You didn't bother to wait for an answer and you went to the outside. You needed some fresh air, you were feeling like you were gonna faint. You didn't know how to process the feelings that were rising in your chest. You had always known Mina was a woman with her needs and her life, but seeing her like that made you feel weird. You didn't know if you were jealous or possessive of her, or maybe it was another reason why you felt this way. You just knew you needed some fresh air and a bit of time alone to think.

After 15 minutes you went back inside the club, Mina and her friend were still dancing and they were even closer than before, her arms were around his neck and he had his on her waist. You felt like a dagger was piercing your heart, you couldn't watch Mina and this man dancing anymore. You needed to get away from there.

You went to Mina and her friend who had his head on Mina's cheek. " Come on Mina. I know you like me, if not we wouldn't have been dancing for a while now. Don't be a prick tease" He said to Mina.

Mina laughed off, at that moment you went to her and stated that you were about to go home because you weren't feeling well.

" I can go home by cab if you need to keep staying here. I've already called one indeed." You affirmed biting your tongue.

" Oh, I don't like to leave you alone. I will go with you then" Mina said to you.

" There is no need. You are having fun obviously and I am not feeling like staying here, I don't want to be a burden to you." You bowed and proceeded towards the exit of the club.

The fresh air immediately helped you to relax a bit, you felt a bit better now that you weren't inside that hellhole anymore. You heard the sound of Mina's heels getting closer and closer to you, you didn't turn around, you kept looking at the traffic.

" What's the matter?" Mina asked you once she got near you.

" As far as I'm concerned I've already informed you about what I am about to do, so your presence here is utterly pointless Mina" You scoffed.

" Why are you being like this?" Mina asked you, her voice was a bit softer than usual.

" Never mind. Look a cab is coming here" You stepped forward and raised your arm. " Good night Mina. See you tomorrow"

The cab arrived and you went inside, you didn't look back at Mina once.

You went straight to your room as soon as you arrived home, you were feeling like shit and you wanted to be alone. Your head was spinning and you felt like boiling, luckily you were able to plop on your bed before you passed out due to the high fever.

The next morning, you woke up with the most horrible headache and your fever had risen even more. Mina was there beside your bed with a thermometer in her hand. She was wearing a white satin nightgown and her hair was untied.

" Good morning! How are you feeling today?" Mina asked you with a gentle smile.

" I feel terrible" You whispered your voice was hoarse and your head was pounding.

Mina put her hand on your forehead, she felt your temperature. " Oh my poor boy, you are burning up"

" Don't pity me now, when last night you were all over your fucking friend." You said.

" Oh, my son, you are so cute when you're jealous" Mina pouted her lips.

You glared at her, you were feeling so angry you couldn't think straight. You didn't know why you were feeling so possessive of her, but you just felt like you needed to protect her from everything and everyone.

"Please tell me you didn't fuck him last night" You pleaded.

" Of course not! You are such a stupid boy. He isn't even the type of man I would go out with." Mina said and you felt relieved.

Mina got up and went to your bathroom. She came back with a glass of water and a pill.

" Here take this, it will help you to reduce the fever."

You took the glass from her hand, she helped you sit up so you could drink it. You swallowed the pill down and gave Mina back the glass. She sat on the bed beside you and caressed your head.

" I'm so sorry if I made you feel like this. You know you are the only one I care about, right?" She said.

You nodded and she wrapped her arm around you pulling you close. You felt like you were gonna die of fever but you were so happy Mina was holding you that it didn't even matter.

Mina helped you to take off your clothes and she tucked you in, she didn't leave your side once during that whole day. She fed you and bathed you, she was taking care of you like a mother should do with her child. You felt so loved and grateful to have her as your mum.

Mina took a week off from work to keep an eye on you. " Mina thank you for being here for me" You said.

" Anytime for my son. I am so sorry again for the other night. I promise you that you are the only one I care about in this world" She said to you and kissed your forehead.

" I'm feeling better now" You stated. " Sucking your tits would make me feel even better"

You smiled.

Mina chuckled. " You are such a horny boy"

She moved her lips closer to yours, and you wrapped your arms around her waist and pulled her to you. You started kissing her neck and you could feel her breath quickening. You pulled off her T-shirt and her bra and your hands went straight to her breasts. She was moaning louder as your lips went down to her nipples. You licked them, sucking and nibbling them softly. You moved your hands to her shorts, unzipping them and pulling them off of her. She was completely naked, you couldn't resist anymore. You pulled down her panties and pushed two of your fingers inside her pussy. You felt her juices dripping on your fingers.

She moaned louder, you knew she was close, but you wanted to make her cum even harder. You moved your fingers faster and you could feel her pussy walls tightening around your fingers, she was cumming and you felt her pussy squirting her juices everywhere. You didn't stop, you kept moving your fingers and she kept cumming until she fell on your chest panting.

She smiled at you, she was so happy and content. You kissed her softly and she giggled.

" You are such a horny boy" She whispered. " But you are my horny boy"

"Let me rest tonight and tomorrow I'll fuck the shit out of you" You promised her. She nodded and went to her room. You fell asleep with a smile on your face, you were so happy to have Mina as your mother. You knew you would do anything for her. You were so in love with her. You knew that your feelings weren't right but you just couldn't help it. You loved her for the person she was. You knew that you would always protect her and love her no matter what.

The next day Mina woke you up kissing your collar bone. You opened your eyes and looked at her. She was wearing a black satin robe with nothing underneath. Her hair was down and her makeup was light.

" Good morning. How are you feeling?" She asked you.

" I'm feeling great. I need to fuck you." You answered.

Mina smiled and crawled on the bed to your feet. She started to pull down your boxers, revealing your cock. It was hard and ready for her.

" Oh my, look at this. Looks like someone needs a blowjob" She giggled.

She bent down and started sucking your cock. She was moaning and groaning with her mouth full of your cock. You watched her as she was sucking you. You were so turned on by watching her. You held her hair back so you could see her better. She was swirling her tongue on the tip of your cock, you were so close to cumming. She kept sucking and moaning until you exploded in her mouth. You watched as she swallowed all of your cum.

" That was delicious. I can taste your love" She smiled and kissed you. You felt her tongue against yours and you could feel your cum in her mouth.

" I want you" You mumbled liking her ear lobe. " I need you" You pleaded with her.

Mina laughed and lay down on the bed. She spread her legs for you and you knew this was it. You moved between her legs and she pulled you on top of her. You felt her hands moving on your lower back as you entered her. You felt her pussy stretching around you. You felt like you were in heaven. She moaned louder and louder as you started moving inside of her. You could feel her pussy walls closing around you. You were moving faster and faster inside of her and you could feel her juices dripping on your balls. You were getting close but you didn't want to stop. You kept moving and groaning until you felt her cumming underneath you. You felt her pussy squirting everywhere and you withdrew your cock and with the head, you rubbed her clit. You watched as she was cumming even harder. You could see her juices dripping on her legs and your cock. You felt her shivering underneath you and you knew you should stop.

" Mina, do you want me to stop?" You asked.

" Please don't. I'm so close to another orgasm" She pleaded.

You shoved your length inside her womb and grabbing her legs to have more grip, you plowed in her pussy mercilessly. Mina was moaning and screaming as loud as she could. You could feel her juices dripping on your balls as she was cumming once more. You felt her pussy walls tightening around you as she was squirting even more. You were so close to cumming but you didn't want to stop. You kept moving inside of her and moaning.

" Mina, I'm about to cum" You said.

" Please fill me up. I want to feel you inside of me" She begged.

Your hips were in overdrive. With a few more thrusts you filled her womb with your cum. You felt your cock throbbing inside her as your seed filled her pussy. You watched as she was cumming once more. You could see her juices dripping on her legs and your cock. You felt her shivering underneath you pulled out of her and laid down beside her.

" I love you Mina" You whispered.

" I love you too my horny boy. You are mine from now on baby boy” She smiled.

————————————————————————————————————————

Mina was beautiful it was obvious to you but today was entirely different. She had chosen a black leather jacket and a tight, sexy jeans skirt. Her top was a tight jeans piece of fabric that hugged her curves perfectly and showed off the swell of her breasts. To finish it all, she wore white heels accentuating her long legs.

Her hair cascaded down her shoulders flawlessly and her makeup was spot-on. She looked like a million quid! But what caught your attention was how well she carried herself. An air of confidence about her made you weak in the knees.

All of that preparation to attend a concert on the first row, with me trailing behind her. King Gnu were her group of choice.

King Gnu, the band was known for its unique music. The lead singer Daiki Tsuneda was an average guy, you would have never paid attention to him on the street if you had run into him. But the moment he stepped onto that stage, something about him changed. He oozed confidence and charisma. The crowd was entranced by him. Mina, too.

Mina was dancing to the music, her skirt rising higher with each movement. She was a sight to behold in her sexy outfit, dancing seductively, her body moving to the rhythm of the music. And she was enjoying the show, her eyes were glued to Daiki. She looked at him with a look of pure lust. She was in a trance and she didn't even notice you staring at her.

Daiki during a particular song decided to go down the stage and into the crowd, Mina's eyes widened in anticipation. You felt a sense of jealousy creeping into your heart. He was playing on the edge of the crowd and he looked like he was in a daze, like he was entranced by the crowd. He was looking right at Mina and she was staring at him. You watched in awe as they locked eyes for a moment. You could see the spark of attraction between them.

Mina looked like she was about to melt under his gaze and you felt a pang of jealousy. The song ended and he moved on, but he kept looking at her, even as he was performing for the crowd, you saw his eyes wandering back to her. Mina looked like she was in a trance, her body swaying to the music, her eyes locked on Daiki.

She looked like she was under his spell like he could make her do anything he wanted. The concert ended and Mina clapped enthusiastically. She turned to you and you could see that she was flushed. "That was amazing! Did you enjoy the concert? Oh my god, he is so hot. I am so wet just watching him." She squealed. You felt a pang of jealousy.

"Let's get out of here," she said and took your hand, dragging you towards the exit. You trailed behind her, her hand holding yours tightly. She was in a hurry and you stumbled behind her, trying to catch up. She stopped at a corner and looked around before pulling you into a small alleyway. "I need to feel your cock in my pussy. I am so wet and horny just thinking about Daiki." She said, her voice breathless and husky. She pressed herself against the wall and pulled you towards her. She spread her legs, revealing her wet panties.

" Are you pretending me to fuck you in this filthy and miserable place while you are so wet thinking to that singer?" You questioned.

" Yes, I need it. I need to feel your cock in me. I am so wet. Please baby, I am begging you" She pleaded, her voice cracking. You saw the desperation in her eyes and it made you weak for a second.

" Me fucking you while you are picturing having sex with that singer, won't happen. Never in a million years" You laughed and stepped back.

She looked crestfallen and her face fell. " Don't tell me you don't want me." She said, her voice small.

" Of course I do, you are bloody sexy today. But you need to understand that a no is no, even for someone like you" You said mocking her.

She looked at you for a moment and then she smirked. " Fine, I will go find someone who wants to fuck me. I am so wet for you, but you don't want me. I'll find someone else." She said and turned to walk away.

" Go ahead, you are just bluffing. You wouldn't dare to do that." You laughed and crossed your arms across your chest. She turned around and glared at you.

" Watch me," She said and stormed off. You laughed and followed her, wondering what she would dare to do.

She walked through the crowd, her eyes scanning the faces. You could see her sizing men up and discarding them. She was finicky about her partners, and anything regarding her life. You followed her, amused at the scene. She finally stopped in front of a man and looked him up and down. She smiled and you could see her confidence in full bloom.

" Are you looking for a good time?" She asked him, her voice husky and seductive. The man's eyes widened and he looked her up and down.

" I beg you pardon ma'am. I'm not sure to have understood what you said." He retorted politely. Mina pouted.

" Don't be shy. I want to fuck. Are you in?" She said, her voice confident. The man looked at her in surprise and then nodded.

You had fun enough and it was time to stop her show, you tapped the man on the shoulder. " Sorry, she is busy, my apologies." You said and pulled Mina by the elbow. She struggled to free herself but you were stronger.

" You cannot stop me. I am a grown woman and I can do whatever I want" She said and struggled even more.

" Sure you can, but I'm quite confident you will follow my lead now" You retorted and kept dragging her. You heard the man saying " It's okay, I understand" and Mina let out a frustrated groan.

In a swift motion you lifted her over your shoulder like you would do with a sack of potatoes. She kicked and screamed in a way a child would do but you didn't budge.

You reached the car and opened the door. You set Mina on the backseat and she crossed her arms and legs.

" You are a brute and a jerk, you know that?" She spat out.

" I might have been abrupt but not a brut." You laughed.

" You cannot dictate to me what to do, I am not a child." She pouted.

" I adore you when you act like this" You said.

She glared at you.

" I hate you!" She screamed.

" We both know that's not true." You smiled and kissed her forehead. She looked at you like she wanted to rip your head off.

" I am going to make you regret this!" She threatened.

You laughed and kissed her forehead again. " I am looking forward to it." You said and closed the car door, driving back home. Mina was silent all the drive home, her arms and legs crossed. You could see the anger in her eyes. You could sense her seething, and you were glad about it. It made you feel powerful to see her so angry.

The moment you entered your house, she jumped off the car and ran towards the house, slamming the door shut. You parked the car and entered the house, following the sound of her footsteps. She had locked herself in the bedroom. You knocked on the door and waited.

She opened the door and glared at you. " Leave me alone!" She screamed.

" Are you done throwing your tantrum?" You asked, amused.

She looked at you like she wanted to kill you. " You have no idea how angry I am." She spat out.

You nodded and started to undress and when you had only you boxer on you looked at Mina.

" Take off your clothes." You ordered her.

She glared at you.

" Are you kidding me?" She retorted.

" I am dead serious." You said and she glared at you for a moment before she crossed her arms and legs.

" I won't take off my clothes, you cannot force me." She said, her voice petulant.

" Mina, I can see your nipples through your shirt, you are aroused and you want my cock in you." You said, your voice husky.

" No, I am not." She said, but you could see the blush rising on her cheeks.

" Don't lie Mina, I can see through your lies." You said and walked towards her. She glared at you and she tried to run away from you, but you were quicker and you caught her. You held her against your body, feeling her curves. She struggled to free herself, but you held her tightly.

You lowered your lips to hers and kissed her deeply. You could taste her arousal on her lips. You could feel her heart beating fast against your chest. She struggled for a moment and then she gave in, kissing you back passionately. You could feel your cock throbbing against her body and you knew she could feel it too.

" Still mad Mina?" You asked.

She moaned and you could hear the need in her voice. She was so horny, it made you laugh. You held her against your body and walked towards the bed. You threw her on it and she bounced a bit before looking at you. You undressed her and threw her clothes on the floor. She was left in nothing but her bra and panties. You admired her body, her curves, her skin, everything about her was perfect.

You kneeled in front of her and removed her panties, spreading her legs open. She looked at you with desire in her eyes. You could smell her arousal and you knew she wanted your tongue on her pussy. You teased her for a bit, rubbing your hands on the outside of her pussy, and then you licked her clit. She moaned loudly and you could feel her body shivering under your touch.

You sucked her clit into your mouth, making her moan even louder. You could feel her pussy tightening around your fingers. You knew she was close to cumming. You rubbed her clit with your tongue and you could feel her pussy spasm. She came hard, screaming in pleasure.

You stood up and removed your boxers. Your cock was throbbing with desire. You positioned yourself between her legs and aligned your cock to her entrance.

" Tell what you want me to do" You smirked.

She looked at you with lust in her eyes. " Please, please fuck me!" She begged.

" Where do you want me to fuck you?" You teased.

She looked at you and you could see the frustration in her eyes.

" In my pussy, you stupid brat!" She screamed.

You laughed and entered her slowly, watching her face. She was beautiful in her pleasure. You started fucking her slowly, watching her body move under yours. She was moaning and panting, her legs wrapped around your waist. You fucked her slowly, feeling her pussy tightening around you.

" Harder, please, harder!" She moaned.

You obliged, grabbing her hips in your hand and pounding into her. Her screams of pleasure were loud and clear. You could feel your orgasm approaching. You fucked her harder, feeling her pussy tightening around you even more. She came again, screaming loudly. You felt your orgasm approaching and you came hard, filling her pussy with your cum.

You collapsed on the bed, holding Mina in your arms. She looked at you with a satisfied smile. " I guess I deserved that" She said.

" Yes, you did" You retorted and she pouted.

" Are you still mad?" You asked.

She shook her head. " Not anymore" She said and you kissed her forehead.

" Good, because I am not done with you yet." You said and she smiled. You kissed her deeply.

You rolled her over, made her lying on her stomach. You stood up and positioned yourself in between her legs. She spread them open, her pussy wet and gaping wide for you. You slapped your cock against her ass cheeks and she giggled.

You teased her entrance for a moment and then you shoved yourself inside her. She moaned loudly, arching her back.

You fucked her slowly, watching her ass moving under your thrusts. You could feel her pussy tightening around your cock.

" Harder!" She demanded.

You hold your grip on her ass cheeks and sped up your pace, pounding into her. She screamed in pleasure.

" Take it Mina, good girl." You said.

She moaned and you could feel her pussy spasming. She was close. You fucked her harder, feeling your orgasm approaching.

" Cum for me baby." You demanded.

She did. She screamed loudly, her pussy milking your cock. You came hard, filling her pussy with your cum again.

You pulled out and she turned around looking at you, a smile on her face. You held out your hand and helped her up. She stood in front of you, your cum dripping out of her pussy. She smirked and wiped her pussy with her fingers, tasting it.

You laughed and kissed her. " You are something else, you know that?" You said.

She nodded. " I know. Now, what do you want to do?" She asked, rubbing her hands on your chest.

" Shower first then we will see" You retorted.

She nodded and walked towards the bathroom. You followed her, watching her ass move as she walked. You couldn't help but smack it. She looked over her shoulder and smirked. " Oh, that is how you want to play huh?" She teased.

You grinned and followed her into the bathroom. The water was already running. You entered the shower and grabbed Mina's waist. She leaned against you, her ass pushing against your cock.

" Mina we should shower and then sleep. Tomorrow I want to go to the beach with you" You whispered in her ear softly.

She nodded and turned around looking at you. " Yes, that sounds lovely. Let's shower and then sleep."

You nodded and she started washing your body, her hands rubbing your chest and arms. You smiled and did the same with her body. She giggled and you could feel her body shivering under your touch. You washed her hair and she leaned against your chest, moaning softly. You turned off the water and grabbed two towels. You handed her one and dried yourself with the other.

" It is better if we sleep in my room, the bed sheets in your room are not clean at all." You laughed.

" I know, I made a mess on my bed" She smiled.

You nodded and handed her a T-shirt and a pair of panties. " Here wear these." You said.

She nodded and put them on. You did the same and then you went to your room. She climbed on the bed and you followed her. You held her against your chest and she smiled. " Goodnight baby" She whispered.

" Goodnight Mina" You whispered back and kissed her forehead. She closed her eyes and you watched her fall asleep. You smiled and kissed her forehead again. She was perfect and she was all yours. You had her and she had you. You could feel her heart beating against your chest and you smiled, she was yours. Forever

#twice x reader #fanfic #twice mina #twice smut #twice mina x male reader

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tashid4 · 4 months ago

Text

Virgin Kirishima

TW ‼️ smut (pls wear a condom)

Kirishima worked so hard all his life, believing that his quirk was weaker, inferior. He forced himself to work harder, training late at night and early every morning. He couldn't help it, he felt like he had to prove his worth.

Now he was one of the greatest hero in town, the powerful and strong Red Riot. He was part of the top 10 pro hero ranking, he was the symbol of manhood and brute strength. He saved more people than he could have ever imagined. We can basically say that he has succeeded in life. He is at the top of his career but there is someone he never managed to get. A relationship.

He was focused on his hero training, always working hard, he never really had time to fall in love. That's why he now is 23 and still a virgin. He was not ashamed but not proud of it either. He does not shout it on the rooftops. He never talked about this with his friends not even the closest one. Denki and Sero were both players, flirting with all the girls they laid their eyes on. Mina had a girlfriend for the past two years, Bakugo was too busy being the number 1 hero. And of course there was you. You joined the group after graduation, you worked in the same agency as Mina. You quickly became very close and she introduced you to the squad. Among all the members of the group, you were probably the biggest flirt. You were really pretty and you knew it. Always using your charms to get what you want. When you wanted something or someone, you got it.

Kiri knew you regularly have sex with Denki and Sero, the three of you were freaks, always escaping parties for "bathroom breaks". He knew it. To say that he was jealous would be a very weak word to describe how he really felt. He was dying of envy.

He spent his entire life training while everyone was falling in love and having their first experiences. Now he was falling being.

Tonight, when he accepted to go out, it was reluctantly. He was tired of seeing all his friends flirting in front of him, while he stayed at the table with his drink. And today wasn't an exception. He was at the bar alone with his beer. The third...Or maybe the fourth ?... Denki and Sero quickly left, Mina following them on the dancefloor. Bakugo had not even bothered to come.

"What are you doing here all alone handsome man?" He felt a hand on his shoulder and you appeared in his field of view right after. You weren't supposed to be here tonight. Didn't Mina said you were on a date on something ? Maybe he misunderstood.

"I could ask you the same question. Not with your date ?" You chuckle slightly at his words. "I was. But he was a dick. So I left."

Inside, he was satisfied with this answer but he could not let it appear. "Oh uhm, I'm - I'm sorry" "Oh don't worry I don't care. The guy wasn't worth it. Backshots with him were laaame as fuck"

He was shocked by your words, how were you so confident. Never holding back your words. Always saying what you think. How was he supposed to responde to this ? Fortunately you did not give him time to answer, yapping about how sex with him was not enough for you. "See, I need a real man, a strong one that could handle all of this" You said that while pointing at you. Of course Kirishima thought you had an handsome body, in fact, he believed everything about you was handsome. He was admiring and respecting you. "I bet women are delighted after a night with you"

His eyes widen at your words. Did he heard you right ? This simple sentence could have made him spit all his beer. His cheeks were probably red hot right now.

"Hgh I don't know...I've never done...you know...this"

You couldn't belive it. Eijiro Kirishima. The sturdy Hero, Red Riot. A virgin ? You laughed, not able to believe this. There's no way his sexy ass was a virgin. "Are you serious?"

If he hadn’t drunk so much beer, he probably wouldn’t have said so much. But alcohol put him in the mood for some confidence. And Damn. There's no shame in still being a virgin...

"Yeah I've never...got close enough with someone to do it".

He had to be joking. This man had so much sex appeal, he was so damn hot. His sharp teeth gave him a bad boy vibe which could have made anyone fall for him. But, however he didn’t seem to be joking. "Shit you really are serious".

He was feeling a bit embarassed now, his cheeks burning and his heart pounding in his chest. "You gonna judge me ?" "Not my style" You gave him a comforting smile, letting him know you were not making fun of him and never would. "How is that possible tho? I mean look at you. I'll die for those abs" A little laugh escaped him, no one ever told him things like this. He couldn't deny the fact it was clearly a boost for his ego. "I-i don't know, I was so focused on my hero training that I never found the time to... do it" "It's not a curse word you know you can say it" "What ?" "You can say sex, the sky's not gonna fall".

"Fine. I never... had sex." It was so cute how flustered he got, all by saying just one word. You were inexplicably attracted to him. He was always attractive in your eyes, but now that you had discovered this new side of him, you needed to know more. You wanted to know all the little secrets he was hiding.

"You know... I kinda want to have sex with you right now Kiri" He was unable to move, completely frozen in place. Having trouble breathing and drops of sweat running down his forehead. You were giggling, seeing him like this truly was a blessing. He was babbling, trying to form a coherent sentence but you shut him by grabbing his hand and guiding him outside the bar.

The car ride was surprisingly silent. Kiri was trying his best to keep it all together, preventing his heart from exploding.

You finally reached his apartment, everything was clean and tidy. Everything in its place. The total opposite of your loft which was a total mess. You don’t even give him time to close the door, you throw yourself on his lips to kiss him. They're fleshy and soft, waiting to be kissed. His body almost respond immediately to your touch. Picking you up with his strong arms that he carved for years. He simply carries you through the apartment, before putting you down on his bed.

The sudden confidence he gained earlier evaporates when he sees you on the bed. His bed. The one he sleeps in everynight. The one he would touch himself in when he could no longer contain his needs. You noticed the change of expression in his eyes and take control of the situation. You take off your top and switch place with him. Now he's the one on the bed, looking at you from below with adorable innocent eyes.

"Do you want me to strip for you baby? Does this would make you hard ?" "Ye-Yeah definitely." With a smirk you slowly started to get rid of your clothes. Being as slow as possible to tease him. You would eventually let him help you unclapping your bra. When you are fully naked in front of him, you come closer to him not once looking away from his beautiful eyes. "I think it's your turn now". You grab the bottom of his shirt waiting for his consent to take it off. Once you see him nod, you wast no time in removing every piece of clothes he was wearing. Leaving him in only an underwear. Through the fabric you can guess how big and hard he is. "Is it ok if i take this off" His only answer is a muffled whimper that makes you smile.

After taking his boxer off, you take some time to look at his dick. It's huge, like really huge. You gently stroke it before taking it in your mouth. Kirishima feels like he's gonna cum immediately when he feels your tongue circling around his tip. He never felt something like this. It's too much for him to handle. He has to restraint himself from cumming because he doesn't want you to think he's a needy little virgin. But without surprise, he fails and after less than 5 minutes your mouth is already full of his cum. Guilt takes hold of him but you confort him when you swallow it all.

You get back up and quickly find a place on his lap "You did so well for me baby. Now you gonna let me ride you uh ?"

"Yes please"

It's unbelievable how messy and vulnerable he looks right now. Probably one of the prettiest thing you ever saw. You start to move on his lap before riding him like a pro. Bouncing up and down on his dick. His hands start guiding your hips on him, the room filled with moans and other filthy noises. You're both sweaty and sticky but none of you care, too focused on the pleasure you're feeling. "I'm gonna finish soon" "Don't pull out, p-please" The moves became sloppy and messy before you both came with loud moans. "Shit that was so fucking good"

You give him your best smile before pulling him into a soft hug, letting him know you're not leaving. His first time couldn't have been better and he's happy that he waited for the right person. That he waited for you...

I know I already said it but please use condoms before having sex 🙏 It could save your life (and eventually prevent you from having a baby) Love you all XoXo

#mha #kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou #mha kirishima #kirishima ejiro x reader #mha smut #kirishima smut #bnha smut #bnha

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oxbellows · 7 months ago

Text

Welcome Home! Nothing Weird Happened.

Written based on @emilybeemartin's spectacular Boromir Lives AU comics, with permission. I might write more, who knows.

My whole thought process here is this: if Boromir lives and makes it back to Minas Tirith, he is about to receive an absolutely ludicrous quantity of bad news. And I for one think it would be both plausible and hilarious for Pippin to be the one who ends up delivering that news. So here we are!

Trigger warnings for that whole pyre situation from Return of the King.

It was fitting, to Boromir’s mind, that the battle for Minas Tirith should be decided by dead men. So many had died for the city of kings already, their blood seeping into her soil like rain. Why, then, should her fate rest solely in the hands of the living? An unnatural justice rang out in the clang of steel against phantom blades, heralding the return of a hope long since given up for lost.

“None but the king of Gondor may command me,” the wraith hissed.

“You?” Boromir had roared. “You, Oathbreaker? I am the heir to the Stewards of Gondor. Generations of my kin have died for an empty throne. None but the king of Gondor may command ME. Here stands the king of Gondor before us, and you will suffer him as I have!”

And suffer him they did. Sickly green washed over the last armored oliphaunt as the dead claimed more souls for their own. Boromir pulled his eyes away from the spectacle and spun his sword in his hand, scanning the area around him for the next foe. He found none. Only the backs of retreating orcs, and weary Men attending to their fallen brothers. That and, out of the corner of his eye, the strangest possible trio of a Man, a Dwarf, and an Elf. Finding no enemy to engage, Boromir instead turned his step toward the strange trio to embrace his friends in the wake of victory.

Aragorn, king of Gondor, did not appear especially regal at the moment. He was covered in grime and gore, surrounded by the corpses of orcs left to rot in the open field. Gimli’s sturdy metal armor was slick with blood, and it dripped steadily off the edge of the axe that he had slung over one shoulder. Legolas, of course, was only as disheveled as he might have been after a short run, clean of the muck that covered the rest of them. His hair still fell properly at his shoulder, what witchcraft did the Elf use to maintain it?

Boromir could only imagine what he himself must look like. He knew that he was damp and smelled like death, which did not bode well for a lordly appearance. Nonetheless, even in all his heavy armor Boromir felt lighter than he had since childhood. The battle was over, fought now only by those straggling beasts that had not managed to escape the field on foot. Boromir was still, impossibly, alive, and so were his companions. So was his king.

The enemy may yet prevail, but Gondor would not fall before the White Tree bloomed again. It was more than his grandfathers had ever dared to hope.

“Is that blood in your hair or just its natural grease?” Boromir asked his king, sliding his sword back into its scabbard and stepping over the body of a fallen orc to approach him.

Aragorn laughed, raising one dirty hand to skim his fingertips over the top of his head. “I cannot say, Captain. I only know that in either case, I would wash it before I present myself to your lord father.”

Boromir clicked his tongue dismissively. “My lord father’s not the one we have to worry about. If my brother hears that I’ve brought Isildur’s heir home in such a state, he’ll throttle me.”

He almost continued speaking. He almost added, if he’s alive. Aragorn heard the unspoken caveat all the same. His dark eyes had a softness in them when he spoke.

“The battle is over, Captain of the White Tower,” Aragorn said. “We must turn our efforts now to the dead and wounded. May we not find you kin among them.”

If the taste of ash settled on the back of Boromir’s tongue, it could be attributed to the smell of Mordor’s filthy army laying dead at his feet, and not to the terrible image that flashed across his mind’s eye of Faramir’s bloodied and unblinking face.

“My father will be well,” Boromir asserted, determined not to speculate on his brother’s wellbeing. “He is past his time as a warrior. He will have commanded our troops from a place of safety within the walls.”

Aragorn inclined his head in assent. His hair really was a sight- black blood had matted chunks of it together, and where they stood now in the open field, with the sun just beginning to peek through the enemy’s unnatural bank of shadow, Boromir could see that his clothes were in much the same state. Perhaps this was why Aragorn so persistently favored black for his travel clothes. Were he wearing any other color, it would be obvious that he was as drenched in the blood of orcs as if he had bathed in it.

A warrior of staggering skill was this king of Men, but he preferred not to proclaim his deadliness to the world. He tucked it away into shadow until such skill was needed. Perhaps one day Boromir might look upon this man that he called brother and not be humbled by the mere sight of him.

Perhaps.

“I will search with a sharp eye, then, for Captain Faramir,” Aragorn promised.

Boromir closed the distance between them to grip Aragorn’s shoulder in thanks. Aragorn returned the gesture with ferocity, digging his fingers into the mail covering Boromir’s upper arm. Gimli thumped Boromir’s back in a heavy handed gesture of approval, and Legolas bowed his head with a coy smile. A river of unspoken words passed between the four of them, about great and important things like love and fear at the end of the world, and then they released each other. Aragorn turned his stride towards the Citadel to lend his knowledge of elvish medicine to the House of Healing. Legolas and Gimli set out together to help carry the wounded into the city for aid. Boromir made for the rocky outcrop at the city’s outermost wall, the one that archers favored for its vantage point. There he was sure he would find rangers, and hopefully news of Faramir.

The walk carried him past countless dead orcs and uruk-hai, but also more dead men and horses than Boromir had ever seen on a single field. For every pair of comrades he saw embrace in giddy relief, another wail of grief reached his ears from somewhere else. His mail grew heavier with every step he took.

Boromir had scarcely made it halfway to the archer’s outpost before he was stopped by the sound of his own name.

“Captain Boromir!” a familiar voice shouted. “You live!”

Boromir stopped and whirled about. There, about ten yards from Boromir, close enough to the outermost wall to be half-concealed in its shadow, crouched a man in a forest-green cloak. His hands still hovered over a fallen Gondorian soldier, as if he had frozen partway through checking for signs of life. Before the man in green rose to stand, he brushed a hand over the fallen one’s face, coaxing his eyes shut before stepping away. Boromir felt a dull pang of grief in his already overburdened heart at the confirmation that yet another of his countrymen was dead. He had no time to acknowledge that pain, though, as the man in green righted himself fully. The green cloak, brown leather vambraces, and longbow on his back all sparked immediate recognition.

Boromir knew this man, had met him before, but his weary mind failed to provide a name for him. It hardly mattered. The uniform he wore told Boromir everything he needed to know. Faramir had been clad exactly the same, the last time Boromir had seen him. This was one of the rangers of Ithilien, his brother’s own company. Hope swelled painfully in his chest. He hastened his step towards the ranger.

The ranger rushed to meet him and performed a quick, obligatory salute when they were close enough to speak comfortably. “My lord,” he greeted, breathless. “Your father thought you dead, but we in Captain Faramir’s company held out hope.” A wide grin split across his face. “You cannot imagine how sorely you’ve been missed!”

Seeing his smile finally dragged the ranger’s name to the front of Boromir’s memory. “Anborn,” he said warmly. “It’s good to see you alive and well. Tell me, what news do you have of my brother?”

Anborn’s smile dropped, giving way to a look of naked concern as quickly as a candle being snuffed out. “I have no news, my lord, none that is not two days old at least.”

"Then give me the old news,” Boromir pressed, trying not to snap.

Anborn grimaced and nodded. “My lord,” he said, haltingly, “The last time I saw your brother, my Captain, was on the day he rode out to reclaim Osgiliath with a company of forty mounted soldiers.”

Boromir could only stare for a long moment, turning over Anborn’s words in his head to try and make them comprehensible. No clarity came to him. “My brother is- in Osgiliath?”

Another grimace. “If he is still there, he is dead.” Boromir’s lungs constricted and froze. Anborn continued, “Osgiliath was overrun more than a week ago. I’ve heard rumors that Faramir made it back to the Citadel, but I cannot say any more than that without inventing rumors myself.”

“The Citadel,” Boromir repeated. He forced breath into his uncooperative lungs. He would go to the Citadel, and he would find Faramir there with their father, incoherent with frustration after arguing strategy with Denethor. He turned on his heel and started walking. Anborn said something as Boromir strode away, but he didn’t hear it properly over the ringing in his ears.

What he had heard of Anborn’s words clamored in his mind- it sounded as if Faramir had taken a company of only forty men to reclaim an overrun city. That would be absurd, though. Faramir may be prone to bouts of melancholy and brooding, but he wasn’t suicidal. And even if he did, for some reason, decide to seek his own death, he would never bring any number of Gondor’s defenders with him to do it.

Your father thought you dead.

Boromir broke into a run.

Faramir didn’t hold sway over all their troops’ movements. Faramir wasn’t the Steward.

He was moving too slowly. Stumbling to a halt, Boromir grasped at the leather straps holding his pauldrons in place and did his best to unfasten them with numb fingers. Denethor had not been the same in recent years. The shadow in the east had darkened his thoughts, day by day, and set him talking as if the end were already here. His gray eyes had glinted in a way that Boromir scarcely recognized when he’d spoken of the One Ring. He’d never favored Faramir, never encouraged him the way he deserved, but the cruelty that had colored Denethor’s every interaction with his secondborn in the year or two before Boromir left shocked him.

Boromir’s pauldrons landed on the ground in a heap, and now he doubled over to escape the shirt of mail. It was a difficult task without taking off his sword belt, but he managed. He needed to be faster, but he could not bear to go unarmed. The chain links poured gracelessly down over his head, yanking his hair as they went, and then he was free. Boromir took off running again, now unencumbered.

Faramir would never plan a suicide mission.

Would he accept one, though, if he was ordered?

Boromir’s feet touched white marble bricks for the first time in months that had felt like decades. He did not pause. Shouts followed him as he went, calling his name or exclaiming surprise. Arches and edifices flew by overhead. Rubble littered the street. He caught glances of bodies crushed under great stones.

Boromir made it to the stairs. His weary legs burned and protested, but he dared not slow his descent. He needed to know where Faramir was, now. He needed to know what had happened in Osgiliath, before any more ideas had the chance to take root in his head. If he finished the line of thinking that Anborn’s news had set off-

Boromir might kill his father with his bare hands.

So, he would not stop, and he would not think, until he found answers.

He reached the top of the stairs.

A small group of guards, maybe five or six, clustered together at the Citadel gate, all spoke over each other in urgent tones. Boromir could not hear most of their words over his own ragged breath, but he caught a few. He heard “Mithrandir” and “Witch King” and “wood”, and then, “Denethor.”

“Where?” Boromir barked. Every one of the men before him startled and turned to him with unabashed fear written across their faces.

If Boromir had looked a mess back on the fields, by now he must appear absolutely deranged. Half his armor gone, hair wild, white shirt drenched with sweat and blood- he could hardly blame the unsuspecting guards for the shock and confusion they displayed so brazenly at his question. Nor could he blame himself for the urge to grab the nearest one and shake him until he spoke sense.

Fortunately for all present, the guard furthest to the left, a man of slight and youthful stature underneath his plate armor, spoke up.

“The House of Stewards,” he said, voice trembling. He pointed in the right direction. “In the tombs. Both of them, lord and son, with orders from the Steward to be left undisturbed.”

Boromir ran like he had never done in his life.

For what possible reason would his father and brother be in the tombs in the midst of battle?

He threw himself against the door to the tombs of his forefathers. They gave way with no resistance, and as he stumbled through the opening, he noted that the floor was dusted with splintered wood. This door had already been broken through. There he stopped short.

He could not, for the life of him, make sense of the scene before him.

In the center of the foyer, directly on top of Húrin’s memorial etching, were the remains of- a bonfire? Heaps of ash and charred wood covered the usually immaculate white marble floor, built up into a high, still-smoldering mound in the chamber’s center. The air reeked of smoke. Neither Denethor nor Faramir were in sight, nor was anyone else. The tombs appeared deserted.

“Faramir?” Boromir called warily.

A clang of metal and the scuffle of unshod feet on stone answered his call, and then-

“Boromir!”

A small form collided hard with his midsection, forcing him to take a staggering step back. Small arms wrapped around him like a vice, a familiar vice, and Boromir abruptly realized that he was in the embrace of a hobbit.

“Pippin?” he demanded, aghast.

The young hobbit turned his face up to meet his gaze and a fresh wave of panic seized him. Pippin’s face was coated in ash and streaked with tears.

“Boromir!” Pippin cried again. “You have to help, Gandalf said that healers were coming but nobody came, there was screaming in the halls so I dragged him as far as I could but he’s heavy and I don’t know where Gandalf went and just- just- come here!”

The hobbit released his iron grip around Boromir’s waist in favor of clutching one of his wrists and started hauling him off to one side of the room, into a corridor of mausoleums. There, poking out of the nearest alcove, Boromir spied the lower half of a single black boot.

Pippin pulled him onward when his own pace faltered. With each step he could see more of the body that Pippin had apparently tried to drag to safety. A small, or rather, hobbit-sizedsword lay carelessly discarded on the floor beneath the alcove’s arching entrance where Pippin had dropped it. That would explain the clanging sound Boromir had heard just before being tackled, then. Which would mean that when he called out, Pippin had been guarding this archway with sword in hand.

Pippin’s relentless tugging finally forced Boromir to where he could see the stricken man on the floor.

It was Faramir.

Of course it was Faramir.

A rough, strangled sound echoed through the quiet tombs, and Boromir only realized a moment later that it had come from his own throat. Pippin darted from his side to kneel at his brother’s head, petting his hair and murmuring a soothing word. Faramir did not react in the slightest. He wasn’t dead; Boromir had seen enough dead men in his life to know with unfailing precision the difference between a dead body and a dying one.

No, his brother was not dead. He was only dying.

Boromir dropped to his knees.

In all this time that he had dreaded coming home and hearing that Faramir had fallen in battle, it had never occurred to Boromir that he might watch him die.

“He needs medicine,” Pippin pleaded, his little hand nestled in Faramir’s hair. Boromir now saw that the hobbit was dressed in the garb of the guards of Citadel, mail under a velvet tunic embroidered with the white tree. What had happened in his city? When had this barely-trained halfling become his brother’s last line of defense?

“Go,” Boromir rasped. He touched the hilt of his sword. “I will protect him now. Go to the House of Healing, down one level. Aragorn is there. He will listen to you.”

Without another word, Pippin took off at a sprint. Boromir and Faramir were left alone, together for the first time since Boromir had left for Rivendell.

Boromir wanted to scream.

Instead, he maneuvered himself carefully to sit at his brother’s side. How Pippin had managed to stash Faramir away in this little nook, Boromir had no idea. He could only just find room for himself against the wall without jostling the motionless body beside him. He reached a tentative hand out to lay it on Faramir’s forehead. He paused before he touched skin, momentarily stunned by the radiating heat. When his fingers settled on his brother’s brow, it was like touching metal that had been left in the sun too long. Faramir burned. Boromir gently smoothed his hand over damp hair.

It wasn’t just Faramir’s hair that was damp, actually. It was everything on him. His short beard, the finely embroidered collar of his tunic, the silk of his sleeves. If his fever was so high, it was not so surprising to find him coated in sweat. The choice of clothes, though, was undeniably strange. There was no blood staining the fabric. Had he not been hurt in battle, then? Had he simply been taken by a violent illness? Was there a plague in the city? That might explain the lack of gore but not the presence of finery. Boromir had only ever seen Faramir wear this tunic for ceremonies. He wouldn’t have put it on before battle, and he would certainly have taken it off if he were falling ill.

No, the only reasonable conclusion was that Faramir had not been the one to dress himself. A terrible, unspeakable suspicion wormed its way into his heart.

Boromir almost regretted sending Pippin away without first asking him what had happened to create this bizarre tableau. Almost. His answers could wait until Faramir had been brought safely into the care of physicians. He lifted his hand to stroke Faramir’s hair again, but the slickness that clung to his palm bade him pause.

That wasn’t sweat in his brother’s hair, it was something else, something more viscous. Puzzled beyond words, Boromir brought his hand close to his face to inspect it.

His palm was smeared with oil.

All at once, a dozen disparate fragments of information arranged themselves into nightmarish clarity.

Someone had dressed Faramir for a funeral. Someone had brought him into the place where the bones of their ancestors rested and covered him in oil. Someone had lit a bonfire in the center of the tombs.

Not a bonfire. A pyre.

Someone had tried to burn his little brother alive.

“No,” Boromir whispered, as if he could prevent his next thought from taking shape.

Only one person in Gondor could do any of this without being stopped.

In the tombs, the guard at the gate had said. Both of them, lord and son, with orders from the Steward to be left undisturbed.

Boromir launched himself upright, out of the cramped alcove, and was sick all over the marble floor.

For the second time in a day, Pippin found himself running for someone else’s life. At least he didn’t have so far to go this time. He could not remember ever being so tired. It was also fortunate that he knew already where to find the House of Healing. Gandalf had insisted he memorize the route there as soon as he’d made his oath to Denethor, which was a bit insulting, to be honest, but turned out very useful in the end.

The first time he’d entered the House, just a few days ago, he’d thought it was very full. Most of the rows of clean, simple cots had been occupied by rangers returning from outside the city. As he dashed through the sturdy oaken door now, though, he entered a different world entirely.

The cacophony of sound, smell and movement that surged up to meet him stopped Pippin in his tracks. The House of Healing was so crowded he could not see the far wall. He could barely see the nearest row of cots. Tall ladies rushed about in every direction, shouting orders to one another above a nauseating din of groans and cries. Pippin had been standing guard in a cloud of smoke for hours, and yet the onslaught of ugly and unfamiliar smells that accosted him here made him wish for the scent of smoke again.

His foray into the front lines of a battle had been terrifying. This place might be worse.

Boromir had said that Aragorn was here, though, and Pippin would walk headfirst into an army of orcs right now if it meant that Aragorn would help him. He never wanted to be in charge of anything, ever again, especially not trying to keep great lords and heroes alive. Aragorn was good at that sort of thing, he could take over now. Pippin took a deep breath and began forging a path through the chaos, calling Aragorn’s name as he went.

As he weaved his way through cots, ducking underneath outstretched arms and around long legs, Pippin heard questions following him that he had no desire to answer.

“How old is that boy? Who let a child in the guard?”

"Is that one of those halflings? The wizard’s pet or something?”

“Are you lost, little one?”

Some of these Men had the most terrible manners, clearly. Most of them were bleeding very badly, though, so Pippin could forgive them for their rudeness. He ignored them all and kept moving.

“Aragorn!” he shouted again.

A women that had been rushing by him paused for an instant to glare down at him. “Hush, you,” she scolded, in a voice that spoke of unquestionable authority. She wore a sort of veil with a nice brooch on it, so Pippin supposed she might be in charge here. “Lord Aragorn’s doing very important things right now and I’ll not have you disturbing him.”

Pippin’s heart jumped. “Where is he?” he asked.

The woman tsked and shook her head, making to continue along her original path. She held a bowl in her arms that Pippin was quite sure he did not want to see the inside of. Whatever it was sloshed unpleasantly when Pippin lurched after the women and grabbed a handful of her skirt to prevent her from leaving.

“The Steward has ordered me to fetch Aragorn! Show me where he is!” Pippin declared. He didn’t think it was a lie. Denethor was dead, so that made Boromir the Steward in his place, probably.

The woman gasped in surprise. “Lord Denethor lives?” she asked. “Wondrous news, we thought lord and son dead already.”

Pippin avoided the question about Denethor by standing up as straight as he could. “Lord Faramir needs medicine,” he said imperiously. “He needs Aragorn’s skill. Take me to Aragorn.”

With a quick hand gesture to follow and not another word, the woman took off walking at a brisk stride deeper into the crowded hall. Pippin had to run to keep up with her. After what seemed like a dozen maneuvers around clumps of people and cots, a figure clad all in black finally came into view.

“Strider!” Pippin cried with relief.

Aragon knelt at a young man’s bedside with a wet rag and bowl of water in his hands. He turned his face at once toward the sound of Pippin’s voice, a genuine smile gracing his lips as he did. Some of the panic that had been driving Pippin these last several hours faded away at the sight. If Aragorn was here, then surely things would get better now.

His relief faltered a bit when Pippin noticed that Aragorn was simply covered in blood- both red and black, and sweat, and grime that Pippin could not begin to identity. The Men gathered round him didn’t seem to mind Aragorn’s state, but then, most of them were splattered with blood as well, probably their own. Even Aragorn could not dispel the somber truth hanging in the air, that unimaginably many people had died today.

Faramir would join the dead soon if Pippin didn’t get a move on, so he marched past all those tall, bloodied Men to stand right at Aragorn’s side.

“Faramir’s dying,” he hissed, hoping he was quiet enough for none but Aragorn to hear. He didn’t especially want to deliver more bad news to the people in this room. “Boromir is with him, but he needs medicine, now.”

If Aragorn found this news distressing, he did not show it. He just nodded thoughtfully, and asked, “Can he walk?”

Pippin shook his head. Aragorn hummed an acknowledgment and rose to his feet. He handed the bowl and rag he’d been holding to another woman that Pippin hadn’t noticed before, murmuring something that sounded like instructions. He then spoke to the lady that had led Pippin, the one who seemed to be in charge.

“Ioreth,” he addressed her. “We have need of a stretcher.”

“It will be done,” she said, and turned on her heel to vanish back into the crowded hall.

Aragorn wiped his hands on his trousers to dry them. Pippin suspected he made them dirtier in the process. “Pippin,” Aragorn said. “Will you please lead me to Boromir and Faramir?”

“Yes, this way,” Pippin answered quickly. He was eager to be out of this terrifying place. He found it easier than before to navigate through the throng. He realized after a few moments of uninhibited movement that people were stepping aside to make way as soon as they saw Aragorn following him.

Had Aragorn already gotten around to being crowned while Pippin was busy? These people were certainly treating him like a king.

“Did you already become the King?” Pippin asked without thinking.

Aragorn chuckled dryly. “No, and I don’t think the lady healers would much care if I had. They care only that I know how to draw out the poison that covers many orcish blades, and that I’ve shared what I know.”

“Oh,” said Pippin, feeling queasy.

Finally, the door came into sight, and with a quick burst of speed, Pippin flung himself back into fresh air. Mostly fresh, anyway, permitting for some lingering smoke. The smell of blood and death that lingered in his nostrils seemed even more vile when contrasted against another, cleaner scent, and it made him gag. Aragorn placed a sympathetic hand between his shoulders.

“The battle to save the wounded is the hardest and the bloodiest,” he said gently. “There’s no shame in being shocked by it.”

Pippin couldn’t quite speak yet, so he bobbed his head in a jerky, shaking nod. He allowed himself two deep breaths before turning his attention back to the task at hand. Right. Faramir. Shot full of arrows and nearly burned to death, currently stashed in a mausoleum, actively perishing of fever. He had to bring Aragorn there, and then maybe he could sit down for a moment. He set off again at a jog.

Aragorn, being unfairly long-legged, could follow him with a brisk walk. Pippin was growing weary of these big people, he really was.

Back over the same cold marble stone he went, retracing his steps to the tombs. Two men carrying a stretcher had started following them at some point- Pippin hadn’t noticed exactly where they came from, but the stretcher they carried was already stained with red, so he suspected that they had been going back and forth from the House of Healing for a while already. Aragorn let there be silence between them for several yards, but began asking questions as soon as they crossed under a crumbling archway.

“What happened to Faramir to leave him needing medicine?”

“He was shot at least twice, I’m not sure when. Sometime yesterday.”

"Where has he been?”

“Well, he got shot when he was fighting in Osgiliath, and then the horse dragged him back, and that probably made it worse, actually, but then Denethor put him away someplace for a day or so and then brought him into the tombs and tried to burn him alive.”

Aragorn froze for a moment. “What?”

“Denethor lost his mind just before the battle started, he tried to burn Faramir alive on a pyre. And himself too, I think. He thought the world was ending.”

“Where is Denethor now?”

“He jumped off the wall.”

Aragorn took up walking again, now at a faster stride. “Boromir is with his brother now?”

"Yes,” Pippin confirmed, doing his best to keep up with Aragorn’s pace.

“Does he know what happened?”

That was a good question, actually. Had Pippin explained the situation at all? He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t remember most of today, to be honest- it was all a blur of screams and fire.

He remembered the blinding panic he’d felt when heavy footsteps had entered the tombs. He remembered clutching his sword with sweaty hands and bracing himself to get torn to shreds by uruk-hai, and then abandoning his sword to hurl himself at Boromir once he’d heard the man’s voice. What had Boromir said, though? Anything? Had Pippin said anything?

He remembered Boromir dropping heavily onto his knees. The look on his face had been awful. He looked sad and scared and sick all at once. Pippin had never been sure what the word anguish meant, but he was sure now.

“I don’t think so,” Pippin finally answered.

Aragorn muttered something to himself, a string of elvish words that Pippin had never heard before. It sounded like what Legolas said when he missed a shot, though, so Pippin could wager a guess at what it meant.

At last, they reached the door to the House of Stewards. Pippin darted through, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Aragorn was still following. Through the foyer, around the smoldering remains of the pyre, down the corridor on the right, and there they were. The lords of Gondor. Not quite as Pipping had left them.

Boromir had extracted Faramir from the alcove where Pippin had dragged him to lay his brother out in the open. The fine silk tunic Faramir had worn lay in oil-soaked shreds scattered about the floor, and the mail shirt he’d had on underneath was similarly cast aside, half-obscuring a puddle of vomit near the entry to the alcove. Pippin was sympathetic- being in this place made him want to retch, too.

Faramir lay on his side in his undershirt. The fabric had been white once, Pippin knew, but blood, oil and ash had colored it through. Boromir knelt at his back, holding him steady by the upper arm with one hand and gently tearing the cloth of the ruined shirt with the other. The cloth didn’t move the way it should when Boromir tugged it. It stuck stubbornly to Faramir’s scorched upper back and shoulder, like it had been glued there.

Pippin gasped in horror as the realization hit him. Boromir couldn’t get Faramir’s shirt off because it was stuck to his burnt skin, fused in place by the heat of the fire. Had his skin melted? Could skin melt? The thought alone sickened him.

Boromir must have heard Pippin gasp, because his head snapped up to fix the hobbit with a wild stare.

Pippin didn’t usually think of Boromir as frightening. Fearsome, of course, but not to his friends. Certainly never to Pippin.

He looked frightening now. His eyes were wide, and his pupils were tiny pinpoints. His lips were pulled back into an animalistic expression, somewhere between a grimace and a snarl, showing just a hint of teeth. His shoulders curled forward, hunching slightly over Faramir’s still form, and through his thin, damp shirt Pippin could see he was shaking with pent up energy.

When Pippin was younger, one of Farmer Maggot’s dogs had gone missing. They’d found the creature hiding under a shed, nursing a bleeding paw, growling and snapping at any hobbit that tried to approach. Boromir did not make a sound, but Pippin swore he could hear the same wounded dog’s growling all the same.

Pippin felt rather than heard Aragorn approaching from behind him, and it was a great relief when Boromir’s gaze flicked up off his face to fixate on Aragorn instead. With what seemed to be a tremendous effort, Boromir opened his mouth to speak.

“Where is Denethor?” he rasped, voice shaking.

Aragorn took a cautious step forward, moving in front of Pippin. He held his hands up, fingers splayed open, the way he did when trying to settle a spooked horse. “Boromir, my brother-” he began, voice soft and steady.

Boromir interrupted before he could take another step. “Tell me where my father is, Aragorn,” he croaked. “Tell me so I can find him and gut him.”

“He’s dead,” Pippin blurted. “He set himself on fire and then he went off the edge of the wall and died.”

Aragorn stiffened. Boromir’s jaw went slack. He heard gasps from the men carrying the stretcher behind him.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have spoken. Gandalf was always telling him something to that effect.

Boromir let out long, low groan and slumped in on himself, bowing his head so low his forehead grazed Faramir’s hair. He released the firm grip he’d been maintaining on his brother’s upper arm to grab fistfuls of his own hair instead.

Aragorn moved swiftly to kneel beside Boromir. He wrapped one arm around Boromir’s shoulders and pulled him into a lopsided embrace. Boromir went without protest, deflated and boneless against his king. Aragorn spoke to him, too softly for Pippin to hear, and coaxed him to shuffle backwards just a pace or two to create space at Faramir’s side. The two half-forgotten men with the stretcher between them seized their opportunity and swept in to gather Faramir up. Boromir twitched forward when they lifted his brother, but Aragorn held him back with a hand on his chest. With quick, synchronized steps, Faramir was taken out of the tombs.

Louder now, so Pippin could hear again, Aragorn spoke with real regret in his voice. “I must follow them. I promise I will give all the skill I have to make Lord Faramir well.”

“I’m coming,” Boromir stated.

Aragorn fixed him with a hard stare. “It will be ugly,” he warned. “I’ll have to cut the shirt off his back, and I expect much of his skin to come with it. If he wakes it will be to scream.”

“I know,” said Boromir.

“I would rather not find your blade shoved through my heart while I work.”

Boromir flushed. “I would not.”

Aragorn raised one eyebrow. “All the same, if you wish to follow, leave your sword at the door for my peace of mind.”

Boromir opened his mouth, but seemed to think better of it and simply bowed his head in assent. Aragorn hauled himself to his feet and offered Boromir a hand up, which Boromir accepted without hesitation.

“Can I help?” Pippin asked, surprising himself.

Aragorn eyed him up and down. One corner of his lips twitched upward. “Yes, Pippin, I think you can help us all very much by staying at Boromir’s side and keeping him calm. If you have any more news to deliver, however, perhaps you could share it beforewe enter the House of Healing?”

Pippin recognized the admonishment for what it was and ducked his head, chastened. On the other hand, now that he mentioned it-

“Gandalf’s staff is broken,” he announced.

Aragorn closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I see. Thank you, Pippin. Anything else?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Very well. If you think of something, take Boromir out into the hall and tell him.” Aragorn turned to Boromir and spoke sternly. “Boromir, if Pippin takes you out into the hall, I forbid you to pick up your sword until we have had a chance to speak.”

Boromir huffed out something very close to a laugh. “Wise council, my king.”

#@emilybeemartin #lotr fic #Boromir Lives AU

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sorrowfulrosebud · 1 year ago

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𝕲𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: angst

𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙: in which Katsuki sees you get rid of a scrap book you planned to give him after he broke up with you

The breakup was… rough to say the least. You supposed it could have been described as a perfect mirror image to your relationship to begin with; the crushing pain of Katsuki being Katsuki.

Katsuki cracked his knuckles loudly from outside of the Heights Alliance building as he waited in the cold for you. Everyone was out doing something with the group, and Katsuki could not have been more quietly grateful. Even though he was going to rip your beating heart straight out of your body, he wanted you to maintain the dignity and pride that he had originally fallen in love with.

It wasn’t like Katsuki had woke up that morning and decided that he was going to break up with you; months of inner self-depreciation crept into his thoughts day by day, alongside the crippling realisation of his ex-victim’s strength and progress. The weight of his existence was slowly crashing around him, and he needed all of his attention for his strength.

Unfortunately, that meant cutting away dead weight.

Your happy humming could be heard as you wandered your way to your boyfriend. Your face lightened at the sight of him, before your smile drops at his scowl.

“Hi, Suki! Is everything alright?” You asked him worriedly, head tilted to the side. Katsuki’s scowl deepened, causing you to reach out to him.

“Suki please, you’re starting to worry me,” your voice rang through his ears as his hand locked around your wrist before it could reach his fluffy locks. There was a long pause as you retracted your hand, staring wildly at your boyfriend’s face.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he sneered. If he was going to break your heart, he had to rip it out and shove it in the blender. Your eyebrows furrowed as you took your hand back.

“Katsuki, I-,” you were interrupted by Katsuki.

“Don’t fucking call me that either,” he grunted, shoving his hand in his pocket. Tears threatened to prick at your eyes.

“I’m breaking this thing up. It’s not worth my time at all. I’m training to be the number one hero, so I have no time to waste on other useless shit,” his gaze steeled, no ounce of insincerity to be detected. His words cut deep like a sword, your knees feeling weak as tears cling to your lashes.

“Y-you don’t mean that,” you sniffed. Katsuki let out a gruff laugh.

“Don’t I? Look, I guess it was fun when it started, but my priorities haven’t changed. You were just a distraction, something I could put my mind to. I’m not wasting any more time on you, so just leave me alone. I don’t care what you do, or who you get with. Just don’t fucking talk to me anymore, got it?”

His strength was impressive, you thought. How he could say such horrible things to you without buckling or feeling barbed wire dig into his throat. You could only stare at him with tears in your eyes, before shakily nodding. You turned at your heels and unsteadily walked off, before delving into a run back to the dorms.

Katsuki waited until you left. And he waited. And he waited. Until your sobs could no longer be heard. His body shook, before hushed hiccups and cries left his lips. His exhausted body slumped against the wall, shaky hands knuckling at his wet eyes. Well, his dirty deed was done.

Life afterwards was rough for you. After being together for 10 months, your daily routine stung in ways you didn’t know was possible. You found yourself stopping during tasks you had grown unconscious to; you had to stop texting him during the day. Even just the silly thoughts in your head couldn’t be translated in a text to him.

You could only make protein shakes for one now. Laundry loads grew lighter, snack trips became quicker and physical touch with others withdrew exponentially. For the next month, you rotted in your dorm. You ate when Mina would bring you food, her hugging you tightly and angrily grumbling about how much of a dick her friend was.

You managed to stumble to class when you didn’t oversleep the day away. Insomnia plagued you like the Black Death, tossing and turning as you tearfully mourned the relationship you lost. You arrived to class way later than your ex would, avoiding all eye contact even though you were deskmates. (You soon requested a seat change).

Aizawa had had enough when you stumbled late to his lesson for the 5th time, demanding you stay back after class. You gulped and felt your cheeks heat up, embarrassed that your teacher called you out.

The bell for the end of class sounded, bringing you out of your daze.

“(L/N), stay behind please,” came the tired drone of Mr Aizawa. Mina offered you a smile and a rub on the back as she walked off with Kirishima, throwing you a sympathetic look when she left.

Mr Aizawa cleared his throat as he signalled for you to take a seat in front of his desk. He continued marking some papers as his onyx eyes slightly looked at you.

“Your grades are slipping. You’re arriving late to class. You’re avoiding… certain classmates. If you’re struggling, I’d recommend telling me now and continuing the course. If not, pack your bags and take your grievances elsewhere. We’re training heroes, so you need to be exemplary,” he said bluntly, eyes flickering back to his paper.

You sniffled a little, rubbing your eyes.

“I’m sorry, Mr Aizawa. I’ll be better,” you promised dully, wiping your eyes on a tissue. His eyes looked back at you.

“I’m not an idiot. I can tell that you and Bakugou have come to some sort of disagreement. If it can get sorted, I would recommend making up as soon as possible-,” he starts.

“We broke up. He… he dumped me. He said such… horrible things to me. About me,” you whimpered, face screwed up as you clutched your uniform. Aizawa stopped writing before putting down his pen.

“I-I know I’m not exactly as composed as Todoroki, or as fast as Iida or as smart as Yaomomo, but I thought there was something about me that he liked. It just hurts how quickly he discarded me. I’m sorry for disturbing your lessons Mr Aizawa, it won’t happen again,” you quietly cried as you sunk your head in shame.

Only to lift your teary head as Mr Aizawa’s large hand encompassed your scalp. He looked at you with slight concern as you wiped your eyes.

“While it’s true that some of your classmates have advantages that you do not, a real hero doesn’t sell themselves short. Where Todoroki is composed, you’re bubbly and outgoing. Although Iida is fast, he often lacks the ability to let loose and enjoy the small things. And yes, Yaoyorozu is a prodigy student due to private schooling, but you put in the hard work and reap the rewards” his words soothed you as he softly rubbed your head.

“A real hero wouldn’t let someone who had to be chained up at the sports festival make them cry. So don’t sell yourself short. That boy has been in far too many detentions to have the nerve to point out your shortcomings,” he finished, removing his hand and gently pressing his fist into your shoulder.

“Understand me? I’ll let this incident pass if you can prove to me that you can put in the rest of the work and be a hero that everyone can put their faith in.”

The tears returned, but for a completely different reason. You quickly hugged Aizawa, his face immediately shifting into one of discomfort before gingerly patting your back. He let out his signature sly grin.

“Besides, if he tries anything, I can always say to Gang Orca that he needs more classes at the provisional licensing centre.”

You smiled at your home room teacher.

“Thank you Mr Aizawa,” you said, releasing him. He let out a small cough.

“Thank me with your actions. Tell anyone I let you hug me and it’s detention for the next month, understand?” He grilled you.

“I understand sir,” you giggled.

“Now go find Ashido, I can smell her anticipation from here,” he instructed.

“Yes sir.”

After Mr Aizawa’s curt but helpful words, you aimed on self improvement. You focused on bettering a routine, sleeping more and eating healthier. Days you would have spent rotting in bed were forced into activities with your classmates.

The breakup still stung like a knife, but it was easier to manage and slowly dwindled down to a papercut. You hadn’t talked to your ex in 2 months, only sly glances when he wasn’t looking.

Unbeknownst to you, Katsuki was absolutely miserable. Seeing you rot and struggle to cope absolutely murdered him inside knowing that he was the person who ripped your heart out, and that he couldn’t stitch it back together. He managed to keep his own composure, training even harder to avoid seeing you or bumping into you.

He nearly passed out from training, he was overworking so hard. It was his own fault, he knew that. He just couldn’t work past his issues with you there; you didn’t deserve to be at the end of his shitty stick.

The pride he felt when you started cleaning yourself up and interacting more with your classmates made his chest swell. You looked so much more beautiful and radiant; the person he fell in love with.

And dumped.

“Stupid fucking Sparky, gettin’ sick and makin’ me do his chores,” Katsuki grumbled, arms overflowing with bin bags as he stumbled to the large bins. It had been 2 months since your breakup. Or, even worse; your 1 year anniversary.

His heart was absolutely wrecked, but he could now slide quick glances to you without fear of you looking at him. He was so proud that you were able to overcome his asshole behaviour, and hopefully swallow any more feelings that you had about him. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of sniffling.

He peeked his head around the corner, dropping the bin bags as quietly as he could. His eyes widened. You were stood near the incinerator, a thick book wedged in your hands.

Tears slowly trickled down your face as you looked at the book. A small smile appeared as you thumbed the cover.

“I… I thought we would have made it. I don’t know, I thought it was all going so well. I know I’ll never probably understand what was going through your head that day, but… it’s time to let go of the past,” you say quietly, rubbing your teary eyes as you open the incinerator door.

“I loved you, god fucking damnit! More than I think I could have ever loved anyone! I suppose a small part of me always will now, though. I just thought we had a better chance. Happy one year anniversary, Katsuki,” you finish as you let out a sob, throwing the book into the furnace. You ran off before checking that the book was fully inside the furnace, slamming the door and running back inside.

Katsuki waited until your steps made no noise, before running forward and pulling the book from the furnace. It was a scrapbook; the book was ridiculously chunky, with glitter glue and doodles smothering the outside, as well as stickers from your combined favourite TV shows. The furnace had charred a large chunk of the book, the smell permeating his nose.

Then he saw your names scrawled neatly in cursive. His heart started to thud as he thumbed the pages.

Polaroid photos of you on dates were plastered neatly on the pages; some photos he remembered, others he had no recollection of. Movie ticket stubs, post it notes with cute messages detailing your affections, stickers you gifted each other, silly photos from photo booths that you dragged him into.

Each page was a flash of white-hot pain. There were photos of him during a festival winning you a fish from a difficult carnival game, his eyes smoked beautifully with eyeliner as he grinned (and won the fish). He wonders if you still had it.

Another photo of his birthday party. The two of you had snuck off to your favourite spot in the woods, where he found that you had created your own picnic spot with a spread of his favourite foods. Photos of shy hand-holding, of him resting in your lap and vice versa.

Katsuki was struggling to see the paper for the tears he tried so desperately to blink away before reaching the last page. A whole page was filled with your writing, and Katsuki had to knuckle his eyes to read it.

Dearest Katsuki,

Wow, a year already! I’m so happy that we’ve come so far, my love. I’m so indebted to you for everything that you’ve done for me; helped me with training, putting up with me, hell even just being there for me.

I know I’m not exactly the easiest to get along with, I know I’m easily excitable and not exactly quiet. I love and appreciate that you can listen to me and not get bored, just as I do with you.

Training to be a hero is hard work, so I’m so thankful that you’ve chosen to take your journey with me, even though you’re training so hard to become number one.

I love you more than words can ever describe; you’re the reason I wake up everyday. I adore you, and I hope we can have many more years together kicking ass and beating Deku >o<

Lots and lots and lots of love,

Your (N/N)

Katsuki couldn’t stop the tears that trickled down his face. Reading your words of quiet insecurity, thanking him for things that he threw right back into your face like you were nothing made his heart ache so badly.

He clutched the scrapbook to his chest tightly, sending silent but desperate apologies to you as his head sunk to the floor. Guttural cries escaped him as his choices swirled through his head. The scrapbook’s cover buckled due to the force of his grip as he sobbed his heart out.

Months of self deprecation caught up to him as he craved your touch; he wanted you to hear him, to turn around and hold him tightly to your chest and never ever let go ever again. He needed your sweet affirmations as you played with his hair; “my number one hero,” you would croon as you hugged your tired boyfriend.

His stupid pride got in his way once again, and he finally came to the one conclusion he should have met those 2 fateful months ago.

He couldn’t do this without you.

The trip back to Heights Alliance was a painful one, but Mina hugged away your issues as soon as she saw your misty orbs.

“I’m so proud of you for doing this bestie. You deserve so much better. It’s time to let go of the past,” she told you softly, pink hair tickling your face. You smiled at your best friend.

“Thank you for everything Mina, I really mean it,” you sniffle, wiping your nose and taking a deep breath. You let go of your friend as you smiled at her.

“I think I’m gonna go for a nap, training was super rough today,” you told her, squeezing her hand as she squeezes back.

“Okay, let me know if you need anything. Sleep well, and I’ll let you know when dinner’s ready,” Mina promised, giving you one last hug.

You gave her a wan smile as you walked to your dorm room, throwing a pained look at your exes room. You shook your head as you unlocked the door and got changed into some comfy clothes. Tired bones sunk onto your bed as you let out a sigh.

“It’s time to let go of the past,” you murmur as you fell asleep. As soon as you were about to beat Shigaraki to a pulp, a loud knocking on your door pulled you from your dream.

The knocking was quiet at first, then grew louder, more desperate. You thought it was Mina, and that you had skipped dinner.

You let out a tired laugh, getting out of bed and redoing your hair.

“Okay, okay Mina, I’m coming-“ your voice was cut short as you opened the door, seeing a disgruntled ex staring at the floor.

Clutched tightly in his hand was the scrapbook, as you looked on in shock. How did he get it?! He wasn’t there when you- oh fuck.

Katsuki raised his head, volcanic eyes plagued with tears as he wildly searched your face. He gingerly reached for your hand before sinking to his knees, placing your hand on his face.

“P-please take me back. I know I was a dick, but I’m willing to show you all of my vulnerabilities. Please baby,” he raised his head again.

“I can’t live without you.”

#🥀 rambles #bnha x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou #bakugou x reader angst #bakugou angst #open ending bc fuck yall #nah I can’t be arsed to write an ending lol #so don’t get pissy with me #bakugou katsuki x reader angst #katsuki angst #bnha x reader angst #MHA x reader angst #Katsuki x reader

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mothisamess · 1 year ago

Text

Bakusquad x Insecure! Reader

_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—

or alternatively a reader that's just not confident bare faced

(more platonic but could be seen as romantic! more fem centric. sorry for weird formatting I wrote on my phone lol and not proof read I wrote this in less that 10 mins)

_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—

- It was no secret that you were one of the prettiest people in class 1-A.

- You were always put together.

- having your hair clean and always wearing at least some makeup.

- it was a very very rare occurrence that you wouldn't be wearing any. practically no one had ever seen you without it.

- the closest they got was after training or villain attacks.

- one night, you, Mina, Kirishima, Jirou, Sero, Denki, and Bakugo were having a sleepover in Mina's dorm.

- It was around 12am and everyone was winding down for the night. (Bakugo is not very happy about it. but it's the weekend so they managed to convince him)

- mina handed you a makeup wipe so you could sleep barefaced.

- you politely refused.

- mina pryed a bit more, she didn't want her pretty best friend to break out!

- you laughed a bit and made a joke about how you 'look like one of those old diseased hairless cats' without makeup.

Mina - ✩⁠

_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—

- she's shook.

- you're literally her perfect best friend like huh?

- she'll pester you about it for a while

- and if you say that it was caused by others at your old school...

- she loses her MINDDD

- bc youre gorgeous like what?

_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—

- she always hyped you but before but now it's extra!

- will 100% spread rumors about anyone who talks bad about you.

(and they're vileee 💀)

Kirishima - ✩⁠

- he's so surprised

- you look like that and think you look bad??

- aggressive positivity. literally shoving it down your throat.

- hype man!!

- he hypes you up more than Bakugo at this point

- if anyone's trying to be rude to you he will immediately stop them.

- he will not hold back in training and will definitely tell other people that they aren't nice

- and you know it's bad when even Kirishima isn't nice to you. before the person knows it all of class 1-A hates them.

_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—

Jirou - ✩⁠

- she's so surprised!!

- you're like a goddess in her eyes

- she doesn't say much about it that night but over time she subtly hypes you up!

- just small things like 'you're hair looks nice today's or 'where did you get that shirt?'

- she's a little nervous that she'll offend you so she tries her best to not seem as blunt as normal.

- if anyone says anything bad about you (in general but especially about how you look) she goes crazy 💀

- she will not hold back during training.

- (she has gotten scolded by Aizawa for it before)

_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—

Sero - ✩⁠

- he has to take a moment to take in what you said

- like huh?!

- how are you insecure?

- you'll def end up having one of those deep conversations another night where he finds out everything.

- def hypes you up

- practically everytime you walk into the common room he'll tell you you're outfit is nice

- you could be dressed like Adam Sandler and he'd still eat that up

- if anyone is rude to you he'll shoot a small piece of tape onto the ground so they face plant 😭

_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—

Denki - ✩⁠

- he side eyes you immediately and does one of those slow head turns 💀

- he'll pester you for a bit about it but after Bakugo slapps him over the head because he wants to sleep he drops it for the night

- BIGGEST HYPE MANNN

- hypes you up about everything, your handwriting, cooking, baking, drawing, grades, quirk, strength, everything.

- if anyone's every rude he will 100% give the person small shocks.

- especially in quiet rooms.

_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—

Bakugo - ✩⁠

- even though he might be bad at showing it, he didn't want his friend to break out either!

- but he hid it behind him not wanting to hear you complain about your skin

- won't hype you up but once he sees you with out makeup he'd definitely do a really sarcastic fake shock

- like 'gasp oh my god-! you- you- look perfectly fucking fine. say some dumbass shit like that again and I'm beating your ass.'

- will immediately scream insults at whoever talks about about you

- it could literally be a medical professional next to you on your death bed saying that you over estimated yourself in a fight and he'd still do it

_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—

#mha headcanons #bakusquad #bakusquad x reader #denki kaminari x reader #bakugo katuski x reader #sero hanta x reader #kirishima ejiro x reader #jirou kyouka x reader #jirou kyouka #mina ashido x reader #mha fanfiction #mha fanfic #mha x female reader #mha x gender neutral reader

1K notes · View notes

lewisvinga · 9 months ago

Text

star couple | jude bellingham x fem! mclaren f1 driver! reader

summary; the current golden boy of real madrid dating the princess of the paddock has the internet going crazy

fc; jihoon kim

warnings; ? suggestive comment i think maybe cursing i dont rlly know lol

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1

note; requested ! i wish real madrid admins and social media managers were as funny and entertaining as f1 🕊️ but alas, they are a serious institution 🕊️🕊️

masterlist !

liked by judebellingham, landonorris, and others !

yourusername: little date night ft almave , tysm lewishamilton 💫🫶

tagged; almave

username: WHAT ??? night

username: she’s dating someone ? 😀😀😀

username: mother is slaying this winter break

username: the outfit EATSSS

username: wdym ur on a date i wasn’t there ?? 🤣🤣

lewishamilton: glad you enjoyed! let me know if you guys need more 😁

yourusername: oh WE LOVED, he definitely did too and is already demanding more!

username: HE?????

username: why is jude bellingham in my gf’s likes….. he needs to focus on getting that pichichi🙄🙄🙄

username: why did jude bellingham like lol

username: guys what if jude and y/n are dating ..

username: LMFAOO😂😂🤣🤣

landonorris: tell him i say hi

yourusername: no u stink ( he says hi back )

mclaren: y/n slaying as always 😎

yourusername: why thank u admin

judebellingham uploaded to his story !

[caption 1; fuck it, hard launch because i love my girl so matcha] [caption 2; 😍😍]

yourusername replied to your story !

yourusername fuck it i wanna hard launch too

yourusername the girlies ( lando ) are gonna go crazyyy

judebellingham screw soft launches i wanna show u off 🕊️🕊️

judebellingham are u on ur way tho

yourusername mina n i are nearrrrrr w fede jr and fede jr jr

judebellingham love those kids

judebellingham how abt a bellingham jr???

yourusername i love u babe but we’re barley adults ourselves …. we’re barley 20😀

judebellingham who says we can’t be going parents 😒😒😒

yourusername our careers !!

yourusername uploaded to their story !

[caption 1; omw to support my favorite boy🤍] [caption 2; the face of a man who scored a brace today and is todays ucl motm 🤭]

landonorris replied to your story !

landonorris gross

yourusername stfu ur jealous

landonorris don’t u have a game to watch

yourusername don’t u have a race to win 🤓🤓

landonorris YOU DIDNT WIN ALL LAST SEASON EITHER

yourusername red bull and max verstappen dominance 😞 fortunately i do love a team that wins the most championships tho🤭

landonorris can u get me a signed jersey plzzzz

yourusername maybe if u behave liked by landonorris !

judebellingham replied to your story !

judebellingham have you seen twitter yet🤣

yourusername omg no

judebellingham everyone’s shocked 🥸 why are they shocked that i pulled you😞

yourusername: idk babe, maybe bc i’m a cool f1 driver n ur not🤓🤓

judebellingham ok but i play for real madrid ??

yourusername white is such a good color on u btw lando wants a signed jersey

judebellingham on it 🫡🫡

liked by judebellingham, vinijr, and others !

yourusername: little madrid photo dump ft the ucl motm😁😁🤍

tagged; judebellingham

judebellingham: did u see me score for u, my star girl, they were for u☺️☺️😊🌹🌹

yourusername: yes i did see my starboy 🤍🤍

username: starboy n stargirl = star couple 😫

username: he’s fine asf tho icl

username: HE SCORED A BRACE FOR HER😫😫

username: now she gotta win a race for him

username: yeah but max🥸

vinijr: wow and i didn’t make the photo dump?😒

camavinga: it’s like that w them 🙄

rodrygogoes:🙄🙄

yourusername: next time i promise 😞

judebellingham: drama queens, all of you !

aurelientchm: leave him out next photo dump camavinga

username: the players interacting w her is so😭😭

username: the denim lv bag is everything tbh

landonorris: tysm for the signed jersey 😁judebellingham

judebellingham: anything for y/n’s friends 🫡

yourusername: lando is NOT my friend

landonorris: she’s a liar we r bffs😒

mclaren: stargirl and starboy of the paddock and the field !🤩🧡🤍 liked by yourusername and judebellingham !

#football smau #footballer x y/n #football player x reader #footballer x reader #football imagine #football imagines #football scenarios #football one shot #f1 x reader #f1 smau #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham smau

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writingrock · 3 months ago

Text

soft spot

pairing: katsuki bakugou x reader (gender neutral) summary: from the start, Bakugou never liked you. So what would that ever change?

notes: fluff, falling in love, bakugou trying to process emotions, he can't believe he likes you, he's trying so hard to deny it

word count: 3.1k

a/n: I wrote this during my four hour flight with 'soft spot' by keshi on replay.

From the moment Bakugou passed you at the UA entrance exams, he hated you. Not that he had a solid reason. A passing glimpse at your eyes and the snippet of your voice was enough to rub him the wrong way. Something about you grated on his nerves like nails on a chalkboard. It was irrational, and he knew it, but that didn’t matter. He felt a strange sense of satisfaction when he saw you were lagging behind him, though he didn't pay much attention. Why would he? You were just some random extra who’d probably wash out before the practical even started.

But when he saw you sitting in 1-A, any sense of relief vanished. You’d made it? Seriously? Bakugou’s disbelief morphed into simmering irritation as he watched you walk in with a confidence that only fueled his annoyance. He was fuming. You were going to be here for the entirety of his education at UA? His jaw clenched at the mere sight of you. Whatever. You were just another obstacle, one he planned to ignore. He only had to focus on becoming the number one hero. No way some nobody was going to distract him from his goal.

Yet life had other ideas. You got close to Mina, which meant you were suddenly hanging around his friends. But it was bad enough that he had to acknowledge your existence at all, let alone exchange the occasional curt greeting. The nail in the coffin was one project. When Aizawa paired the two of you up for a project. It felt like the universe was playing a cruel joke on him. Forced to work with you— a dumbass in his eyes— was the last thing he wanted.

And yet, as you both begrudgingly tackled the project, he realised you weren’t just some random annoyance. You were sharp, competent, and had a knack for getting things done without fuss. That revelation grated on him even more. It was only then, against his will, that he began to learn a bit more about you—bits and pieces that chipped away at his initial disdain, no matter how hard he tried to hold onto it.

Bakugou tried giving you a hard time, tossing insults your way whenever the opportunity arose. But you deflected them naturally, either brushing them off or firing back with witty comebacks that only annoyed him more. Somehow, you always managed to steer the conversation back to neutral ground— back to assignments or studies— like his words didn’t even faze you. Okay so maybe, just maybe, you were pretty decent at handling his crap. But who was he kidding? You were still annoying. Did you think you could figure him out that easily? Not a chance. You were just another obstacle in his way, nothing more.

You’re quite nice aren’t you? He’s seen you around the classroom. Always being nice, offering a smile, and somehow getting along with almost everyone in class. Hell, even some students outside of 1-A seemed to like you. The only exception was Mineta, and honestly, Bakugou couldn’t blame you for that. Nobody could be expected to put up with that creep for long. That grape-head can’t quit being a pervert for one second. But what gives? What was the point of all that friendliness? Not that it mattered to him. Those were your problems, not his. You had to deal with those people and not him. And you better not think for a second that it meant you’d get close to him.

For most of the year, he kept his distance, pretending you were just another face in the crowd. A few begrudging greetings, a handful of exchanged insults—that was the extent of your interactions. You were just some random classmate, nothing he needed to waste his thoughts on. And as the school year dragged to a close, Bakugou found relief in the thought of summer break. At least for a little while, he wouldn’t have to see your face at all. Or anyone for that matter.

After the summer break, everyone returned for their second year, and Bakugou couldn’t help but notice that you had bulked up. You’d clearly been working out— your leaner arms and toned physique were proof of that. It seemed like someone finally decided to stop slacking and hit the gym. Good for you, he thought. But in his mind, you still had a long way to go. You were already behind, and you’d need to push yourself even harder if you wanted to keep up.

It started out by chance. You both happened to hit the gym at the same time, and after a while, simply ignoring each other became impractical. Slowly, you started exchanging advice. Small tips here and there. Eventually, the idea of sparring came up, almost as a challenge neither of you wanted to back down from. Before long, sparring became a regular thing, an unspoken arrangement that had developed between you two.

With you constantly hanging around his friends and the realisation that you weren’t as insufferable as he’d first thought, Bakugou had to admit that the two of you were... alright. It wasn’t a friendship exactly, but it wasn’t hostility either. Maybe you exchanged texts sometimes, usually coordinating meet-ups with others, but eventually, those plans shifted to just the two of you. It was never planned; it just happened. And honestly, you were tolerable.

Somewhere along the line, he let you hang out in his room while he worked on something, your quiet presence oddly comforting in the background. Not that it meant anything, of course. You were just decent company, that’s all. Nothing else.

But you were stupid. How could someone forget to eat? You were smart, sure, but you couldn’t even stick to a basic eating schedule? It was ridiculous. Hopeless. So maybe Bakugou started making extra when he cooked, just in case you hadn’t eaten. It didn’t mean anything. He was just making sure you were functioning like a normal human being. Afterall, you train with him. Begrudgingly, he might admit you’re one of his training partners. He needed you in top shape, not passing out— from all things, not eating— in the middle of a sparring match.

Over time, he’d learned more about you than he ever expected. Your favourite things, your hobbies, your weird habits. Hell, he even knew what you were scared of—and of course, he teased you about it every chance he got. You were used to that by now. But it hadn’t really hit him just how close the two of you had gotten until one night.

He was making dinner, he found himself setting out a second plate without even thinking. He automatically measured out your usual portion: a precise amount of rice with a heap of pickled radish on the side, and you always liked having the— wait. Bakugou paused. Ladle still in hand as he stared down at the plate. When had he started paying this much attention? Has he always paid this much attention to you? When had he gotten so used to accommodating your tastes? That night, he pushed your plate aside with a scowl and grumbled at you to make your own damned plate.

Bakugou would never admit that he liked having you around, but in his own way, he appreciated you. You were sweet in that irritatingly attentive way, always knowing how to handle him and when to leave him alone. You’d become a solid study partner, sharp and focused, and you had this annoying habit of anticipating his needs before he could ask. You’d pass him his towel and water bottle between sets because you knew he’d need both; the sweat never stopped, and he always drank after each break. You’d grab protein snacks for the two of you between workouts, keeping energy levels high without saying a word.

And then there were the little things. You’d go grocery shopping alone and always pick up an extra snack for him. Tossing it into his room unless he gave you the nod to come in. You’d share music you thought he’d like. And usually, you were right. Without trying, you’d quietly woven yourself into his routine, and he’d come to rely on it more than he cared to admit. But he’d never say that out loud— not now, not ever.

Just because the two of you had gotten closer and Bakugou tolerated your presence didn’t mean he stopped insulting you. But by now, you were used to it. If anything, you found it fun to fire back with your own jabs, turning every snarky comment into an opportunity for banter.

When you both went off for the hero exchange, he surprised you by texting more often than he usually did. Not that it was a lot by normal standards, but for Bakugou, it was a significant change. You’d update him on what you were up to, and he’d do the same— short, clipped messages, but they were steady, a constant thread throughout the entire exchange. It might not seem like much to anyone else, but coming from him, it was more than you’d ever expected. You never mentioned it, but you enjoyed those texts. And secretly, though he’d never admit it, he looked forward to yours too.

When third year rolled around, there was a quiet comfort in knowing you’d be alongside him for the final stretch. Upon seeing you on the first day back, Bakugou couldn’t help but ruffle your hair with a playful smirk, teasing you before you even had the chance to greet him properly. It was such a natural, casual gesture that it slipped out. That alone was enough for his friends to catch on.

Bakugou hated the way his friends kept teasing him, constantly poking at how different he acted when you were around. Supposedly you make him different or whatever bullshit they were spewing. Didn’t they have anything better to do than pester him about some nonexistent crush? He scoffed and waved off their comments, rolling his eyes at their baseless claims. There was no truth to any of it. They were just talking out of their asses. The two of you? You were just friends. Nothing more, nothing less.

But lately… have you always been this cute? Bakugou had always found you attractive, sure, but suddenly, it was like you were glowing, and he couldn’t seem to look away. It annoyed him, how his gaze kept drifting toward you. Snapping his attention back to his notes, his pen harshly hits the paper. Angrily scribbling with more force than necessary. He did not like you. No way. Why the hell would he? There wasn’t a chance. What was he even saying? You look normal. Normal, basic looking, cute— he said cute again didn’t he?

It was four in the morning, and sleep was nowhere in sight. He lay there, cursing you under his breath. Why were you stuck in his mind, looping around like a bad song he couldn’t turn off? You were just being an irritating stain on his heart— no, his mind. You weren’t in his heart. That would be ridiculous. Just his thoughts, that was all. And that made it better, right? But as he tossed and turned, frustration bubbling up inside him, he realised he was wrong. It wasn’t any better. A low groan escaped him, and all he wanted to do was yell. But it was four in the morning, and all he could think about was you.

Bakugou didn’t want to fall. Falling in love? He didn’t even believe in that crap. Love was just a distraction, something that could derail his path to becoming the number one hero. He didn’t need whatever this was stirring inside him. But no matter how hard he tried to shove it down, you always came back. Like a stubborn ember refusing to die out. And a small part of him— one he didn’t dare acknowledge— wanted to let you in. To see if you could change his heart. What terrified him was the thought that you actually could. That you’d be the one to make him believe in love.

Yeah, he’s grumpy in the morning. Everyone steers clear of him. When you approached, you’d feel that heavy aura, instinctively knowing to leave him be, letting him brood in his silent fury. No one knew why he was in such a foul mood, and no one dared to ask. Not like he’d ever tell anyone anyway.

He tried to keep his distance from you. Forcing himself to act normal, like you were just another person in his orbit. Trying to treat you like you were everyone else. But his efforts were futile at best. Around you, his guard would drop unconsciously. His shoulders would relax, and he’d lean in just a little closer, drawn to your presence without meaning to be. It was maddening how easily he softened around you, how your very presence seemed to melt his defences away. When he caught himself, he’d snap back, stiffening his posture and throwing out some half-hearted insult, trying to reclaim his usual grouchiness. But it never lasted long. Because no matter how much he tried to fight it, he always ended up sinking back into the comfort of being near you. He couldn’t help it.

His gaze lingers on you, often without him realising it. A stolen glance here, a lingering touch there. Anything to feel that brief, electric contact. Normally, Bakugou wasn’t one for physical closeness; he hated being touched. But with you, it was different. He couldn’t resist the urge to brush his fingertips against yours, the lightest touch of your skin sending a jolt through him. A graze of your shoulder, the faintest brush of your arm—he craved it more than he’d ever admit. He felt like a fool and he hated it.

You want him to go to some new outlet with you? He’d follow without much protest, even if he didn’t see the point. You’d offer him a bite of some food he was sure he hated, and somehow, it tasted different when you fed it to him. Better, even. When you wanted to stay up and watch movies, he begrudgingly kept you company. Even though he’d rather be sleeping to adhere to his strict sleep schedule, his eyes are glued to the screen of your laptop. Occasionally flickering his gaze to you, just to make sure you didn’t doze off first. And if you were on the verge of sleeping, he’d hit you. You were the one who wanted to watch this dumb movie and he’d be damned if you were going to fall asleep.

But finally, he’s changed his mind on you. These past few months, he’d finally convinced himself that he didn’t feel anything for you at all. Whatever had been pulling him toward you was gone. He’s sure of it. He didn’t like you—not even a little bit. In fact.

He hates you.

He hated the way you looked at him—the way your eyes lingered, the way your smile seemed to light up the room, the way your laugh echoed in his ears long after it faded. He hated how you fidgeted with your fingers, how you’d absentmindedly tap the table, or purse your lips in concentration while trying to remember where you left your stuff (which was, as always, on the floor between your bed and the bedside table). He hated the way you’d run your fingers through your hair to fluff it up, how you got lost in the pages of whatever book you were reading, or the way you hummed along to the music you were currently hooked on. And then there was your clumsiness—the way you always bumped into things on your left side, so much so that he instinctively started walking on that side, like he could shield you from your own absentmindedness.

He hated the way you spoke to him, the playful grin on your face when you said something witty, the mocking lilt in your voice whenever you got a good comeback. He hated the concern that crept into your tone when you noticed him pushing too hard, insisting that he rest properly. He hated the way you cared for him with a gentleness he didn’t think he deserved. He hated how you’d rise back up every time he knocked you down during sparring, your relentless spirit never wavering. The twinkle in your eyes when you talked about the future, the way you’d smile at him without a hint of hesitation—it all drove him insane. But most of all, he hated how easily he could see himself in that future with you, that creeping thought of being by your side no matter where you went. And he hated that he didn’t hate it at all.

He hated that he couldn’t keep lying to himself.

Maybe he’d always had a soft spot for you. Even if he never wanted to admit it, he couldn’t deny the truth he’d buried for so long: he’d fallen for you. You had him wrapped around your finger and he couldn’t stop himself. It was what you did to him that he hated the most. How you affected him. How you turned him into a lovesick fool. All because you existed beside him. He needed you because you’re everything he isn’t. He doesn't believe in love but no one makes him feel like you do.

In truth, he hated you from the start because you didn’t feel unfamiliar. When you meet new people, it usually takes time. Getting used to their mannerisms, their presence, the way they filled a room. So why were you so familiar? With you, there was no adjustment period. From that very first glance, your eyes were soft and inviting, your atmosphere light and effortless, as if you’d always been a part of his world. Even your scent, subtle and barely noticeable, felt familiar. Why were you so easy to get used to? You were so easy to get used to, and that terrified him. The moment you passed by him at the entrance exam, he’d felt it— a premonition of love he’d tried desperately to ignore. He knew from the start that falling for you was inevitable.

You knew it too didn’t you? That you’d end up falling for him as well. He never needed to confess because you already knew. You understood him well enough to know he’d never openly admit it. It only took one late night and a shared kiss for the two of you to finally embrace the love you both saw from the very beginning.

恋の予感 koi no yokan: (n.) lit. Premonition of love; the sense one can have upon meeting someone for the first time that the two of you are going to fall in love.

“You were never going to make the first move were you?”

“Shut up and kiss me again.”

It refers to the knowledge that future love is inevitable.

a/n: ugh I loved writing this on the plane. But I am very very tired now. For my wife @chocogoldie

border credits: @/enchanthings & @/adornedwithlight

#x reader #x gn reader #bnha #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #mha bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bnha bakugou #bakugou x you #bakugou fluff

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silverynight · 7 months ago

Text

Support class

Izuku is quite happy in support class; when he was a child and found out he was quirkless he thought he wasn't going to be able to enter UA. Now he's in support class and if he's being honest, he absolutely loves it; he's really excited whenever someone comes to him or sends their suits to the lab for Izuku to repair them or improve them.

Although he always manages to convince them to improve them.

Hatsume is one of his friends and she and Izuku are constantly trying to come up with different kinds of gear for the students in the hero courses.

It's true, they have made a couple of things explode and some of their classmates get slightly nervous when they're around, but they have managed to learn a lot from their own mistakes.

Usually, the students from class A and B send their suits, except for Iida, Yaoyorozu and Monoma (although he's certainly a pain in the ass) and the first two are always very nice to Izuku.

Since their work means their clothes are constantly getting ruined or tainted with grease, the professors are more willing to let them wear different kind of clothes.

Izuku prefers to wear thank tops and tight pants for mobility, although his classmates are constantly saying it's distracting; he doesn't know what they mean by that.

The only problem is that his childhood friend, Bakugo Katsuki, goes to that school too (he's in a hero course) and they didn't part on good terms. Katsuki started to be mean to Izuku in front of his other friends, but at the same time got upset when Izuku decided not to speak to him anymore.

However, Bakugo doesn't visit the lab often and when he does, Izuku is conveniently elsewhere. Besides, they say he usually goes there to complain about his suit.

Izuku doesn't touch his suit, although if he's being honest, he'd love to because he has a lot of ideas for it.

One day, Hatsume is not there, and Izuku's classmates forget to tell him about the explosive boy. He stomps his way inside the lab, followed by a very embarrassed Iida.

"Oi, you nerd!"

"His name is Midoriya!" Iida starts moving his arm up and down, scolding his classmate.

"Hah? Midoriya?"

There's no point in hoping he doesn't recognize his last name, because Izuku is tired of hiding. He turns around and pushes his safety goggles up.

"How can I help you?"

The moment their eyes meet the scowl disappears from Bakugo's face; he can't hide the surprise on his face.

"Deku?"

"It's been a while, Kacchan... sorry!" Izuku stammers, blushing to the tip of his ears for his own mistake. "I mean... Bakugo!"

"No!" The blond says immediately, startling Izuku. "I'm sorry... I mean... I don't mind the nickname, you can call me Kacchan if you want."

"Oh," honestly, this Baku–Katsuki is quite different from the child version of him Izuku remembers. He's more kind and Izuku likes it.

"Is it okay... no, that was an awful nickname..." Katsuki turns slightly pink and he starts rubbing the back of his neck nervously. Behind him, Iida is watching everything with his jaw dropped. "Can I call you Izuku?"

For some reason, Izuku thinks it'd be weird to hear Katsuki address him by his last name, so he nods, smiling shyly.

"Izuku is fine."

Katsuki smiles, a soft, very subtle smile that makes Izuku grin from ear to ear in return.

Maybe he can have his childhood friend back after all.

"I wanted to... uhh... talk about my hero suit."

"Great! I have a lot of ideas for it!" Izuku says excitedly, walking back inside. "Follow me! Oh, I'll be with you in a moment, Iida!"

They become friends again; Katsuki goes to the lab almost every single day and although Izuku's classmates don't like it that much, they can't kick him out either.

Then, more students from class A start visiting the lab, too, instead of just sending their suits.

"Midoriya! Who's Midoriya?" A pink girl asks one day, followed by a guy with bright red hair, one with yellow hair and a brown haired girl.

"Mina, stop!" The other girl grabs one of the girl's sleeves to pull her back outside.

"What? Don't tell me you're not curious about the guy who clearly tamed Blasty?"

Turning slightly pink, Izuku walks towards the group that looks back at him in awe.

"I don't think tamed is the right word," he mumbles. "I'm Kacchan's friend."

"Kacchan?" The one with yellow hair chuckles at the word. "Do you always call him by that cute name and he doesn't explode your face?"

"Why would he do that? Kacchan is very kind and gentle."

"WHAT?"

Izuku doesn't understand their shocked reactions, but he's glad they seem to get over it quickly and they introduce themselves.

"Wait here," Uraraka says then, as the others finally begin to ask questions about gear. Izuku is honestly very happy about the change of topic. "I need you to meet someone. I'll be right back!"

Todoroki turns out to be a very shy boy; he introduces himself to Izuku, but after that he doesn't say much.

He just stares at him.

Then, when Izuku is telling everyone he'd be happy to discuss modifications and new designs for their hero suits, Todoroki suddenly blurts out:

"You're cute."

"Oi, all of you, BACK OFF!"

Katsuki storms in the lab, growls at his own classmates and then moves Izuku behind himself. Which is honestly, ridiculous, it's not like they're dangerous or anything; Izuku has no idea what he's so worried about.

"It's okay, Kacchan!" Izuku smiles, putting a hand on the blond's shoulder. "Your friends are really nice! I like them!"

"I like you too, Midoriya."

"SHUT IT, HALF AND HALF!"

Turns out Katsuki can be grumpy and loud like he was when they were kids, although he doesn't actually hurt his classmates; he just has that kind of personality. They're used to it.

Although it seems he's extremely careful and soft with Izuku in particular, according to what Ashido and Uraraka tell him later.

Maybe it's because he still feels guilty about his behavior when they were kids.

Izuku can't find another explanation for it.

***

It seems Katsuki likes to watch him work because he always stays with him at the lab, whenever he has free time. At first it made Izuku really flustered to have Katsuki's staring at him intensely, but he has gotten used to it.

He comes running whenever he finds out there's been an explosion in the lab and always looks for Izuku first.

"Are you alright, Izuku?" He usually pulls the green haired boy into his arms first before making sure he isn't hurt.

"I'm fine, Kacchan! Look!" Izuku pushes a button on his new belt and an invisible shield activates around him. "See?"

Katsuki blinks a couple of times, fascinated. He tries to press his palm against Izuku, but he can't touch his skin.

"Where did you get this?" He asks, still surprised. Although he asks Izuku to deactivate it because Katsuki likes to touch him.

"I made them!" Izuku says happily. "For myself and my classmates!"

Katsuki blushes to the tip of his ears and pulls Izuku into another hug again.

"You're way out of my league, huh?"

"What?"

"It seems you really are a nerd!" Katsuki clears his throat, cheeks still pink. He doesn't repeat those words and Izuku is not sure he actually heard right, so he doesn't ask again. "Let's get lunch together..."

***

When Izuku wins a contest with one of his suit designs, Katsuki is the first one to congratulate him. He buys Izuku flowers and takes him to a cafeteria to celebrate.

They hang out with class A a lot, although Katsuki likes to spend time with Izuku alone.

When they start training together (Izuku uses a special suit he designed for himself) and sees Katsuki shirtless for the first time, Izuku realizes that he doesn't see Katsuki as a friend anymore.

He panics and starts avoiding him as a result; suddenly Izuku needs to focus on his work and needs to be alone, no, he can't hang out with Katsuki because there's no time for it.

However, Katsuki knows him too well and he realizes something's wrong right away; so despite all the negatives, he goes back to the lab and decides to confront Izuku.

Hatsume, because she's actually a traitor, leaves them alone.

At first it looks like Katsuki is pissed and is about to yell at him, but the blond just sighs and turns his head up, looking hurt.

"What did I do?"

"What?"

"Please..." Katsuki almost never uses that word, but he looks desperate and in pain. Izuku hates to see him like that: "Tell me what I did wrong... why don't you want to spend time with me anymore?"

Izuku hurt him. And that's the last thing he wanted.

It's time to stop being a coward.

"You did nothing wrong, Kacchan," Izuku assures him, grabbing his own arm in order to give himself courage. "It's... I realized I had a crush on you and I didn't know how to deal with it. I'm sorry. It's alright if you're uncomfortable, I unders–"

Katsuki kisses him on the lips before he can finish. Then, before Izuku can even say anything, he presses their foreheads together and stares into his eyes.

"Crush?" Katsuki chuckles, amused. "I win, nerd. Because I'm in love with you. I have been for a while now."

Izuku's face will stay permanently red at this point. He blinks, part of him thinking that he's dreaming.

"Would you go on a date with me, Izuku?"

Not trusting his own voice, Izuku nods, before kissing Katsuki back. Hatsume comes back in and clears her throat, reminding Izuku they have a lot of work to do.

It's alright, Izuku can kiss his boyfriend later.

***

Patreon

#mha #bnha #my hero academia #bkdk #bakudeku #bakugou katsuki #izuku midoriya

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justwinginglife · 2 months ago

Text

Enjoying The Show

I figure we start Kinktober off with a big bang ;) NSFW ALERT

Kaiju No. 9 had finally been defeated, the Kaiju presence in general had greatly diminished after its downfall, and, in celebration, the JAKDF had thrown the grandest party anyone had ever seen, but still, all anyone could talk about was the way you grinded up against Mina Ashiro in the middle of the dance floor that night.

When the Captain of the Third Division decided to grace the party with her presence, the crowd was already more than riled up (as she almost never made an appearance at crude events such as these- though she made an exception just for tonight), but after you pumped a couple drinks into your friend and coaxed her onto the dance floor with you, insisting that this was your song, and then proceeded to drag your ass across her crotch in time to the music, the officers completely lost it.

Including your boyfriend, her Vice Captain, Soshiro Hoshina.

And when a tipsy laugh tumbled from her lips and she steadied her hands on your hips before matching your rhythm and rocking into you, Soshiro couldn’t help but start scheming.

When the party had died down some and the remaining stragglers had started forming smaller groups around the base, Soshiro steered you both towards a private room so you could “catch your breath.” After some general banter and suggestive language, he managed to convince the two of you to kiss for him.

Mina was shy about it at first. Even tipsy, she still grumbled that she refused to cater to the desires of a man let alone a man she outranked. But women were different and when you ran your fingers up her arm as you inched towards her on your knees, murmuring that it was just “one kiss” and you felt you were “close enough” to warrant a “friendly kiss”, she couldn’t help but oblige.

There was nothing friendly about the kiss.

At first, it started off slow; you didn’t want to push her before she was ready. But after two seconds of your lips mingling, after the heat of your kiss left her dizzy with desire, she let out a moan. Then you were smirking against her lips, and in an instant, your tongues were tangled in a wet, hungry mess. Before either of you knew it, you were in her lap, grinding against her as you devoured her lips. Your hand wrapped around the base of her ponytail, giving it a slight tug so that her neck was exposed, and then you moved to ravage the delicate skin next, leaving delicious bruises in your wake.

You must have kissed and sucked the sensibility right out of her, because when you tugged at the edge of her shirt, she began quickly unbuttoning it for you.

You could tell that Soshiro had been palming his erection through his pants this whole time, groaning into his fist so as to not disrupt your little moment, but when you began kissing and sucking at her breast, dragging your tongue over her peaked nipple, his zipper was down in an instant and he was fucking his hand with his cock.

When his moan wasn’t as muffled as he would’ve liked, Mina finally turned her attention towards him. She almost choked when she laid eyes on the swell of his erection, and she sucked in a breath when his precum started drizzling over his eager fingers. “Oh that’s so… oh god, that’s so lewd…” She flushed.

“Minaaa.” You purred as you took her chin in between two fingers and turned her towards you again. “Don’t look at him. Look at me. I want your attention right…” You dipped your head back down again to flick your tongue across her other nipple, “Here…”

She whimpered as your saliva seared trails down her breasts. When she finally surrendered to the feeling, closing her eyes and arching her head back, you took the opportunity to hike up her skirt. Her eyes fluttered open again at the sudden movement.

You danced your hand near her entrance, massaging at her thighs.

She hesitated. “I’ve never-”

You engulfed her neck with your lips again. “We don’t,” You sucked at the skin, “Have to,” You pressed a kiss to the mark, “If you don’t want to.” You sunk your teeth into her flesh, and then pulled back to admire your handiwork. “But I can tell you're wet just thinking about me and those sounds of yours are irresistible.” As if to prove your point, she moaned when you trailed your hunger down her neck to her shoulder.

“Doesn’t she make the cutest noises, baby?” You called to Soshiro.

He grunted his agreement as he pumped his engorged cock in and out of his hand.

She flushed an even darker shade of red and bit her lip. Then, as if to say she had decided, she slowly spread her legs for you.

“Ahh, there’s a good girl.” You wasted no time in teasing your way in, testing the waters with one finger, and then when she sighed her approval, you slid in a second.

When she clenched the sheets tight and started to pant, you wondered if this slow pace was actually enough to make her come. You felt you could do better than this. Soshiro knew it too.

“Touch her like you touch yourself, baby.” He crooned, still grasping at his throbbing erection, eyes flooded with desire.

You smirked at her. “You heard the man.”

Her eyes widened. “What does he me-”

You suddenly jerked a thumb towards her clit, stroking the nub swollen, and then shoved three fingers deep inside her. She gasped for breath, whining for air, as you pounded your fingers against her clenching walls.

“You’re practically soaked.” You noted as each pump of your fingers sent her juices sloshing out of her entrance.

Soshiro got on his knees to watch. “Fuck, she is.” He reached out to touch her, but you slapped his hand away. “You’re not allowed to touch any girl but me.”

Amused, he shrunk back into his corner, but not before snapping a photo of you fingering her pussy raw. You thought he just took it for his own records, for his own private time, so you continued to pleasure her, paying him no mind.

But then he got up to open the door moments later, and Narumi strode into the room, taking up position beside Hoshina on the couch.

“Can’t believe you kept this a fucking secret. How long has this been going on for and you’re just now telling me? Asshole.” Narumi grumbled, fumbling for his zipper.

Soshiro grinned cheekily, “Long enough for me to come once already.”

“Asshole,” Narumi repeated again, now getting frustrated that his dick was rapidly hardening in his pants but his zipper was stuck in place.

Hoshina broke the zipper, yanking his pants down.

“ -were fucking expensive pants, you dickhead.” Narumi complained but his words held no weight, he was completely mesmerized by the sight of Mina thrusting herself onto your fingers. He jabbed Hoshina in the side. “You already got off once, you owe me the same.”

Hoshina rolled his eyes but then began stroking Narumi’s cock while they watched the two of you.

You paused just to raise an eyebrow at your boyfriend.

He shrugged, cocking a grin. “You said I couldn’t touch other girls.”

You face-palmed. “I’ll have to be more clear on instructions next time. Enjoying the show, Gen?”

He groaned as Hoshina coaxed his precum out in steady streams. “Immensely.” He gasped out.

Mina scoffed. “How many people are going to join in on this little party of ours; who’s going to be next, Okonogi?” She asked sarcastically.

Soshiro put a finger up in thought and both you and Mina instantly shut him down with treacherous glares and a resounding “NO.”

He laughed and went back to his handjob, but the two of you had yet to resume.

“Well don’t stop just cuz he’s an idiot. Just pretend he’s not here… keep going.” Narumi whined.

“Hey, don’t go calling me an idiot, I’m the one who sent you an invite, you should be grateful you’re here at all,” Hoshina grunted as he viciously squeezed more precum out of Narumi’s tip.

Narumi made a strangled noise but still waved for you both to continue.

You turned back to Mina. “Well I guess they want a show, so let’s give them a show.” You slowly slid down your skirt for the boys, making sure to let your hands linger on your curves for their viewing pleasure.

She spread her legs again and eagerly awaited your fingers, but to her surprise, you instead positioned your body over her entrance and started scissoring against her.

“Oh fuck.” Narumi came all over Hoshina’s hand immediately. While he was still mid-orgasm, Hoshina sped up, pumping his dick more vigorously, leaving an overwhelmed and oversensitized Narumi to start erratically spurting out even more cum. “Damn b-bastard, h-how would you like it if I just,” He reached over and started stroking Hoshina’s cock emphatically. Hoshina gasped and gripped the edge of the couch to force his orgasm back down until he was ready.

You fucked Mina harder, enjoying the feeling of her slick coating your cunt. “I can’t tell what’s hotter- Narumi coming all over my boyfriend’s hand, trying to force him to come, or you about to come all over my pussy.”

Mina groaned at your words. “I’m not g-gonna…”

You picked up the pace, filling the room with the sound of you slapping against her as your hips slammed down harder. “You sure about that? Cuz I can feel you twitching underneath me. Why don’t you just come for me already?”

Sweat began to trickle down her forehead as she arched her back to give into the pleasure. She thrust up against you, desperately chasing her release.

Hoshina and Narumi quit their bickering when they realized the Captain was about to come undone underneath you. Lust took heavy hold over them and their erections became engorged to an almost painful degree as they watched you grind your cunt up against Mina’s. But they were resolved not to come again until one of you did.

Mina was the first to come, collapsing against the bed as euphoria engulfed her. Narumi watched her shudder underneath you, whining and moaning her delight, and it sent him over the edge too. He doused Hoshina’s hand again in thick ropes of his cum. But Hoshina- Hoshina was waiting for you.

He knew every scar on your skin, every sensitive spot, every curve, every dip, he knew every inch of the body that he so frequently worshiped and he knew you were almost there so he held out for you. Even as Narumi vigorously pumped his cock out of his hand, even as he picked up the pace, he waited for you.

When you felt Mina’s cum flood through your entrance, mixing with your own wet heat, every nerve in your body was set ablaze and you knew you were close. You moaned “Soshiro” as you came on top of her, thrusting against her until the waves of pleasure subsided. Hoshina heard his name and followed shortly behind you, splattering Narumi’s hand with his own liquid lust.

After you’d all caught your breaths, Narumi finally spoke. “Damn that was cold. Fucking the Captain and then moaning the name of her Vice Captain.”

“He’s my boyfriend,” “He’s her boyfriend,” you and Mina said in unison, like it was the most simple thing in the world.

“Yeah, we’re just friends.” You scoffed.

Mina pulled her clothes back on. “Exactly. Don’t know why you’re such a dumbass, Narumi.”

You and Mina took off down the hallway, arms around each other, laughing with each other as though nothing had changed between the two of you, as though tonight was nothing more than a little healthy experimentation.

Narumi watched your fading figures in stunned silence. Then he turned to Hoshina. “Come on. Help me out here.”

Hoshina shrugged. “They said they’re just friends.”

Narumi held up his cum stained hands. “And what do you call this? What did we just do?”

Hoshina shrugged again. “Closed a business deal?” He smirked and then headed off down the hallway, walking fast to catch up to you. He attempted to wrap an arm around you but you refused to let him touch you until he’d cleaned the “uninvited guest’s cum” off of him. He chased you down the hallway with his hands spread out towards you.

All that was left of your blissful -half drunken- encounter that night was a dumbfounded Narumi standing in a puddle of his own slick, wondering what the FUCK just happened.

#soshiro hoshina #kaiju no. 8 #anime #hoshina #narumi gen #mina ashiro #kinktober

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breakyourrxles · 2 years ago

Text

❥déjà vu (m)

↳ One year after the fulfillment of a particularly raunchy agreement with your best friends husband, the three of you once again find yourselves together over a bottle of pinot noir, an appetizer, and an unforeseen question laid out on the table:

If you could do it all again, would you?

kim doyoung x fem!reader — friends with benefits, gratuitous sexual content, porn with plot [21k wc] cws: open relationship, alcohol consumption, bdsm-heavy!! dominant doyoung, submissive reader, restraints, impact play, slapping, dom-drop+aftercare, unprotected penetrative sex, oral sex (m+f), gratuitous dirty talk/degradation/humiliation, cum play/facials/wet&messy, deep throating, safe word usage, ravishment play, infidelity play, spit play, doyoung has a big dick and fucks like a pornstar.

In the dimly lit ambiance of the swanky restaurant that you and your present company currently reside, and over the dull, pleasant hum of the chatter of the surround patrons, you suppose you can't help but reminisce, just a little bit.

One year.

Not on the dot, a few weeks give or take since the beginning of one such agreement, but nevertheless a time in your life that you've found yourself recalling perhaps a few more times than you'd care to admit. Admit to yourself, and especially to aforementioned present company.

You bring yourself back from the thought just in time to make eye contact with the man across the table from you — a knowing collection of features gracing his face, of course, he doesn't know the ins and outs of whatever it is that happens to take your attention in the moment, but rather, just that there had been something to stir you away from the present. The ringing laughter of your best friend just next to him finally coming into earshot to let you know that the two had been engaged in some other conversation that you must have tuned out slightly, you watch her snake an arm around his as his preoccupied one continues to top off your glass of red wine.

Thankfully, third-wheeling with the couple has become far more comfortable, though, you suppose you know what the reason for that may be.

Mina, with blonde hair tied back into a ponytail and a black sweater on — it must have been the evening for couple outfits, as Doyoung sports just about the same, minus the blonde hair, instead sporting his usual black with seemingly no interest in ever changing his look.

"I'm so annoyed I have to go on this business trip at all," Mina huffs, across the table and next to her husband. "But they did say that I would need to be gone like this occasionally when I took it, so hopefully it can be done and over with as quickly as possible, at least."

"How long was it, again?" You ask, fork gently pressed between your lips to clean it off.

She rolls her eyes as the response begins to leave her. "A month. I don't know what he's going to do without me."

Playful in nature, Mina cozies up with Doyoung next to her as she says it, to which he merely offers a roll of his own eyes before audibly inhaling to response. "Surely I can manage."

"He'll probably just work the whole time, anyways," You add. Your friend nods knowingly. "Aren't you writing a book?"

Lips to his glass, he begins speaking into at the tail end of his sip before placing it back onto the table to carry on with the thought. "It's finished. Loose ends here or there but mostly done. Back to the usual workload, now."

Humming, you carefully shovel another forkful of pasta into your mouth before your vision catches on Mina — a certain gleam in her eye that you know all too well by now to mean that the woman be up to no good, you slow in your motions as you maintain your eyes upon her in wait for what it is that she almost certainly be about to unload on either of you in the middle of this far-too-expensive restaurant.

"Actually," she starts with a jingle to her tone. Eyes now averted from either of you, she still maintains the wicked upturn of the corners of her lips as she hesitates only slightly before finishing the sentence with little more presented to either of you. "I kind of wanted to talk to you about something—"

"Who?"

The word drops from both you and Doyoung simultaneously, and as a result, pulls a resonating chuckle from the woman.

"Well, both of you."

Uh-oh.

Doyoung, once having had his head turned towards his wife, now slowly pulls his vision ahead again, but not without narrow, questioning eyes still remaining to his side as if suspecting her being up to no-good. For good reason, as well, because you maintain the same amount of surveillance on her in wait for what it is that she's about to bestow.

Like a villain sitting in her evil, hands twisting within themselves for all of the devilishness that be about to transpire as a result of her.

"I have an idea."

"Well, that much we can tell, you only get like this when you have one of your ideas," Doyoung can't help but quip back immediately. A man lovingly fed up with all of the nonsense that his wife bring to his life, while no doubt being a large part of the reason that he love her in the first place. "So, what is it, then?"

"No fun, as usual." She sighs before taking a hastened sip from her own glass of wine. Then, her attention turns almost exclusively towards you, as if equally fed up with the way that her husband be behaving in regards to her unknown genius. "Since I'm going to be gone so long, I was thinking — why don't you come stay at the house?"

A shocked, resounding ‘what!?’ coming from both you and the husband in question, once again.

Of course, Mina only laughs at the response from you two with a gentle shake of her head to top it off.

You don't entirely know what to make of the offer, and frankly, you're a little bit too afraid to ask. Instead, you're thankful for Doyoung's bluntness, and perhaps also his familiarity in navigating these particular waters with his wife — because you think you know what she's suggesting, but he most certainly will be the one to ask the question out loud.

"Are you suggesting another arrangement while you're gone?"

"Yeah, why not?" She chimes back as if it be the most normal thing in the world. That it be bizarre for anyone to so much as question it further. "It's a whole month, darling."

"Fairly certain I can keep myself busy enough to not die without having sex for a month."

In ways, this conversation not really involve you currently. Should it play out a specific way, suppose then your input be necessary, but for now: this is between the betrothed.

Mina finally turns in the booth to face him better, but Doyoung insists on maintaining his calculated stature in facing forward and staring out towards the nothingness of the restaurant. He's difficult to read in moments like this; unable to discern if he's upset by the proposition, the potential implications of it, or if he's interested and just unwilling to come of all too eager, and especially in front of you.

After all, the last time sure did end off with a bang, of sorts.

"Are you mad at me?" She asks cutely, as if knowing the answer already. A woman who knows her husbands buttons well, as he turns to give her his full, undivided attention almost the moment that the last syllable drops from her mouth.

"No! I'm not mad, it's just," he pauses, thinking through his word choice carefully as a result of present company, you're sure. "I thought we all agreed that it was a one time thing."

"Then say you're not interested and I'll drop it."

For a split second, Doyoung's eyes catch your own, but he pulls them back and away from you nearly just as swiftly.

You don't think you've ever seen him like this. So...flustered?

Swallowing so hard you watch the lump in his throat bob, Doyoung cocks his head to the side once as if stretching for the marathon of a conversation that his acquiescence to this may just result in. A marathon, indeed, because there would certainly be a whole load more negotiations to take place for a month of who-knows-what-really.

Hesitancy to admit that he's interested in the arrangement. Reluctance to admit it outright without seeming all too eager to re-engage. Tricky waters for the husband in question to navigate, certainly.

Eyes fluttering shut, he sighs. "I'm not against it, just...surprised."

And unfortunately, that means it's your turn now.

Both of their attention now turning to you just as the waiter comes and brings the bill to your table, you feel the heat of embarrassment rush to your face — as if this stranger be privy to the topics ongoing currently — you chuckle nervously as you take the paper in hand, only for Doyoung to just as swiftly tear it away from you before you have so much as a second to consider paying it yourself.

"Well?" Mina questions, chin resting inside of her palm as an elbow settles against the waxed wood of the table top.

For whatever reason, you choose not to acknowledge the man any further as you think through your answer. Assuming him far too busy calculating incredibly simple math especially for someone with a career in finance, all you are capable of is simply thinking him all too enamored in that to be paying any interest or mind to what your response to this question could be. So, with eyes glued to the table in front of you, you muster up all of the courage that you can, while simultaneously biting back the bubbling excitement that you're not too proud of having, before finally giving your best friend your full attention and giving the answer that you think be the one that everyone at the table be looking forward to hearing from you.

"Yeah. I'm down."

Three weeks later, you bring your belongings for your extended stay over to the house that you find already to be comfortable.

There's a certain air about it: a place that you've already spent countless days and nights at, but knowing the circumstances under which you're back inside of their humble abode offering a new set of eyes that you have long since abandoned since a year or so back. Kitchen countertops and upstairs walls that serve as reminders of all sorts of goings on between you and the man of the house — perhaps things you may find yourself revisiting as well as new, unexplored areas with him — there's an excitement within you that now takes the place of any uncertainty or reluctance the first time around.

Because you know Doyoung, and you trust him completely.

Dragging a large suitcase inside, as well as an over-the-shoulder bag and a laptop bag for work, you carefully set your belongings down on the white, marble flooring of the home as you listen for the nearing sounds of footsteps hurrying down the upstairs hallway and towards you. Mina tips over the railing with a bright, cheerful smile — somehow the happiest of the three of you about the way that things are going to carry out for the next thirty days.

"You're here! Doie! She's here!"

Of course, you don't hear from the man, and instead your friend rushes herself down the stairs and into your arms with a wide, tight hug.

"I'm also hungry, I hope there's food in this house," You playfully respond, but before Mina has the chance, Doyoung retorts plainly from the same railing that Mina had been lovingly doting on you only minutes before.

"Suppose I'm expected to keep you fed then, as well."

"Yes, dear," Mina dryly answers with a huff over her shoulder. "Feed and fuck her, that's the agreement."

It being so simply discussed out in the open perhaps something you may never grow completely comfortable with, and with eyes glancing upwards to gauge the mans response as a result of his wife’s words, Doyoung's eyes only roll before sauntering down the stairway just the same as the woman had.

"Are you going to make dinner tonight?" Mina questions as he arrives just behind her. Hands in pockets, he shrugs rather nonchalantly, as if it make no difference to him either way. "I could."

He meets eyes with you, a single eyebrow raising. "Should I?"

"Uh, yeah," you hesitate in response, arms still wrapped around his wife as the conversation carries on. "That'd be really nice."

"I'll go prep then while the two of you say your goodbyes."

And before exiting the scene, Doyoung leans forward and around to kiss Mina — her still very much attached from you, it results in a very full, somewhat-intimate moment that you're all too included in. Unsure if they simply not be aware of your proximity or just as much not care, you swallow and glance away until they're finished — Doyoung's eyes once again catching onto your own before he pulls away from the blonde woman and disappears inside of the kitchen just down the hall.

Shortly there after, Mina separates herself from you, as well. Bags already packed and set aside by the door, you ask her if she need any help in bringing her things out to while she protests, and simply tells you to go and enjoy your stay...

...as well as 'all of the things that the stay has to offer.'

You're not sure if you should feel guilty for the amount of anticipation you've been holding back ever since the initial conversation, but you can't help but wishing for the woman to hurry herself out of the residence, even just a little bit.

You love her, of course, and if her being there instead were an option you would happily choose that ahead of your own interests.

But it's not an option, and frankly, you want to fuck her husband again. No real need to beat around the bush about it, this time.

Two hours after the wife’s departure, the scent of dinner brewing emanates throughout the lower level of the residency that you're now expected to call 'home' for the next month. Surrounded by familiar, white walls and granite countertops, the tall man within be laid with the multitasking of dinner-making while you carry out the finishing touches of table setting. One hand carefully cupped around the tip of the last candle, you hold the lighter against the wick for the fire to catch, and pulling away, you glance over the handy work that you've done in the meantime as you wait for the food to finish cooking. With a heavy sigh coming from Doyoung, you glance over only to find him missing momentarily — popping up from his presumed kneeling position in front of the small, compact wine cooler with a bottle of white in hand.

"Are you going to get changed?"

His expression is somewhat deadpan, which you suppose is to be a bit expected of him, but the question definitely coming from out of left field given your lack of knowledge of even being expected to wear something other than what it is that you had arrived in.

Was this...a date?

Stammering slightly, you do some quick, on your feet thinking about anything that you may have easily accessible in one of your bags that not require a whole lot of putting together in the last minute. "Yeah, give me a second."

Nearly jogging out of the dining room, you hear the man loudly and in your direction. "Make it quick, dinner's in ten."

Pulling a loose, casual dress from your bag and quickly bringing yourself upstairs and into the guest bedroom that you're now to call your own, you can't help but divert your attention down the hall to the shared bedroom of the wedded couple, with one, main rule bestowed upon you by Mina days before your arrival. Her only request of the two of you and your adventures together while she be gone:

Never in their shared room.

No interest in breaking such a rule, instead, you think it charming as you disrobe quickly to change into something more fitting for the evening together. That even in all of the things the couple be willing to share in their marriage, some things still remain off limits, and only for them.

As you re-enter the kitchen area, you catch Doyoung as he pull his apron off from around his neck. Long, thin finger deftly working at the tie around his small waist in a way that reminds you of precisely the way that the mans body look: broad shoulders cinching so snugly at the middle — accentuated by the way fitted trousers and belt hug him and pull at the loose fabric of his button down shirt — he catches you looking well before you find enough awareness to bring your eyes away, and a flush of heat settles at just the tips of your ears as a result of being found out in such a way.

He says nothing, however, instead carrying on with the task of setting the discarded item onto the back of a chair and nodding towards the glass dinner table. "It's ready."

Walking steadily behind him, you realize that the close proximity of the both of you in such a way having long since reignited a sort of burning passion within you for the man — with eyes cascading over his shoulders and back as he bring himself forward, you feel the first, all too evident throb of arousal between your legs that you know, for a fact, you can't possibly place blame on anything else.

When the original agreement had come to a close, you accepted as much happily. A good, positive, growing experience for you in so many ways, but more than that, you were satisfied. Not just sexually, but with your relationships, your life, and your choices. Within the closure came a certain kind of acceptance of yourself in ways that you had never had the opportunity to find before, and now with the re-opening of it, what you really hope to find is more of that.

More acceptance, more trust.

In ways the nature of such agreement never truly able to be just about sex. You can't speak for him, but for you, so much more to be learned and experienced.

Reaching the clear end of the table, majority of the things residing atop it placed further down to accommodate the fact that only two people be sitting there this evening, Doyoung stops so abruptly in his tracks that you nearly collide straight into him — hands coming up to steady yourself and set space between the two of your bodies, it turns into a bit of a whirlwind, however, when you feel the familiar grip of fingers coming around one of your wrists and pulling you forward and in front of the man.

You don't get much more time between then and the few seconds following: expertly placed up and on top of the glass with your legs pried apart to make room for the man between them.

The first kiss comes equally hard and fast, as well.

Nipping into your bottom lip, you don't need much help navigating these particular waters as your hands already make quick work of his belt, followed shortly thereafter by the button and zipper of his black trousers — with such little time passed and a palm pressed against the front of his pants, you find only the beginnings of an erection forming, enough to have you groaning into his mouth with promise of what's to come all of the same, however.

A master of his craft, Doyoung having already pressed the majority of the length of your dress up your hips upon hoisting you onto the table, he dips a single finger down the front of your panties and between your folds, as if to test the waters already. From your position, it's easy to feel the ease in which he glides against you due to the slickness already presented to him — your reward thus far? An absolutely wicked groan of his own through teeth that bite down just a little bit harder into your lip.

"God, how long have you wanted this?" He says with a low tone, words delivered directly into your open mouth as you gasp for air at the feeling of him rubbing gentle circles into your clit just the way he knows you like it. "You're so wet already. You still think about it, huh?"

Less interested in playing games and more willing to be a far more active participant this time around — leaving behind the shyness and apprehension that came along with the completely uncharted waters of the first time — you tilt your head back just slightly and grin, taking in the feeling of him all over again.

"Yeah, I do," you answer with airy confidence. "Don't you?"

"Fuck yes I do."

Words coming through in nearly a growl, Doyoung drags his mouth down along your jaw to suck into the skin all of the way down your neck before settling into the juncture of your shoulder. Pointed sucks and nips into the skin there as if a man truly starved for your touch, you feel him pull you forward and tilt you back just slightly — adjusting the angle of your body so that the fingers teasing you can slip down further — middle finger gliding so easily inside of you, he gives you three pumps of it before adding a second to see how much you need to be prepped for him.

The answer is very little.

Barely any resistance brought to him as he fucks you open with his fingers, you lean back with one palm against the glass behind you to remain stable as the other fishes out his length from behind the confines of the fabric holding it. Long and beautiful, just like you remembered, you run the palm of your hand up the underside of his shaft before delicately wrapping fingers around him and offering him a few lazy strokes; for no other reason than to hear the way his breath hitches just beneath your ear as his mouth carries on its journey back up that way.

As the man carefully creates enough space between your bodies to hook fingers into the sides of your undergarment and pull it down your legs, as he quickly presses his own pants down his thighs just enough to not be a deterrent, you can't help but notice the palpable urgency that this instance carries: a man known for his intensity and ability to maintain stoicism even in the face of erotic desire, this time you find him nearly unrecognizable from any of the times before. No roles between you, no power dynamics at play.

Just two people and raw, sexual desire.

Forearms hooked up and under your legs for leverage, you reach down to him to angle and ease him inside of you with one, smooth drive of his hips — sinking into you with heavy, contented sighs dropping from the both of your mouths at the feeling of each other. Rocking into you shallowly two, three times, it's only then that Doyoung reach his hand up to grasp the side of your neck as if to hold you there, in place, and with all eyes on him, as well.

Pulling the leg still in his grasp up and tightly against the side of his body, he offers you a quick, hard, snap of his hips that finally has you feeling exactly how it is that you want him to make you feel.

Crying out, he settles his forehead against your own, looking you dead in the eyes as he offers another hard drive of his cock into you. The angle is just right for him to graze your g-spot with intense pressure, and already, you feel your thighs quaking around him at the sudden onset of it.

He starts slow, but is quick to find his pace against you, all the while holding you firm in his gasp for just the right amount of leverage that every forceful thrust into you be received with the utmost impact.

You had forgotten how easily he's able to have to falling apart under, and around him.

Electric intensity coursing through every nerve ending, toes curling as your moans quickly dissolve into pathetic whimpers, you feel the prickling of wetness threatening your tear ducts as you bite hard into your bottom lip in an attempt to bring yourself back, even just a little bit.

It's the first time, and relatively vanilla, at that. This man can not have you withering like this already, it's humiliating.

With his jaw tight and teeth gritted as he stairs down towards you, you whine out as the hand around your neck snakes up just ever so slightly and into the hair at the back of your head — fist clenching tight within the strands, and it's only then that Doyoung break his gaze with you and trail hot, dry lips down to the shell of your ear.

"Thought I forgot what you like?" He asks with a drop of venom to his tone. "Don't want to ruin you just yet, we still have dinner to eat."

There's that nasty mouth you had grown to love a year ago.

With impending orgasm on the horizon that no doubt that man inside of you can feel, he trades in shorter, quicker drives into you for fuller, longer ones — offering you the feeling of the entirety of his cock with every snap of his hips, and it's really then that you realize that Doyoung have your likes a little bit too under his thumb for your liking.

But only as far as ego goes. Physically, you already find yourself lamenting the day in which this must once again come to an end.

Walls clenching down around him, Doyoung hisses into your ear as you bite back the full, long moan of an orgasm that's soon to shake you, and dipping down only long enough to nip and suck into the skin below your ear, he brings his mouth back up to it right as you're on the verge of your release.

"How about you make me come, so that I can lick it out of you for dessert."

And that will certainly do the trick.

Yelling out so loudly that you're happy to know that the two of you home alone and on a plot of land large enough that neighbors not be a concern, your orgasm rips through you, so desperate to grip onto something that one hand come up to curl fingers into Doyoung's forearm as he hold you by the hair in place for him to fuck into. Bringing his head up to look at you, as if the unsure about the motion and having to check in on the goings on visually — happy with the scene as your eyes roll back into harshly knitted eyebrows, you hear him groan from the chest — full-bodied and throaty as he comes as well with only a handful more drives into you before burying his cock entirely to empty his load inside of you.

The familiar twitch of him as he comes — mouth delicately hung ajar and looking down at the place where he disappears inside of you — a simple man who enjoy all of the carnal pleasures that sex offer him as much as any other. Prim, proper, put together on the outside but when given the chance, a man willing to say and do the the nastiest, filthiest things to and for a partner...for the both of your enjoyment.

The wetter, the messier — the better it is, for you and him, alike.

And as the two of you sit together for dinner only moments after, discussing the trials and tribulations of adult, workload life — with his cum dripping from your cunt and soaking into your panties, you know one thing is for sure, and that is that whatever is left of it inside of you by the time you two are finished here, he most certainly will be making good on his promise of dessert.

Waking up in the morning feels strange, even under the circumstances of a fake-dating agreement.

On one hand, it makes sense: preferring to sleep in the comfort of ones own bed, but as you lie awake, staring at the while ceiling above and listening to the hum of the dehumidifier that stand tucked away in the furthest corner of the room, you can't help but feel something. Some way about it.

However, it is early into the scenario — only day two, so perhaps it best to allow these feelings of uncertainty lie dormant for just a little while longer — given time to manifest into something if they ever are to, before bringing it to the attention of the man of the house.

Would it be a strange request? All things considered and through all of the other goings on, could something as quaint as the request to be slept next to be one unspoken hard limit for the husband in question?

A single, hard blink has you putting the thought out of your mind in exchange for rolling over to face the window as the delicate blanketing of morning rays wash over your frame. Snagging your phone from off of the nightstand, you check the time only to be be shocked by how early it is — only a bit past six — you come to realize that it explain the sound of rustling from downstairs that you originally thought to be nothing but the typical sounds of a house in the night.

For a moment, you contemplate attempting to go back to sleep, rolling onto your back once again and sprawling across as much of the expanse of the much-too-large furniture as you can possibly manage. Instead, it's the sound of the espresso machine ringing loudly through the residence that has you reconsidering your options.

Footsteps climbing the stairs, you can't help but listen in on the way that the man moves about when not in the company of you or others. Sounding as if he is, however, you hear him on the phone to someone or another — displeased at best, as well, given the strength to his voice despite being unable to make out the words. Shuffling around his office briefly only to disappear back down to the lower level, you decide then that you much too curious about Doyoung in a way that you hadn't quite expected: him as a person, him as an employee, him detached from sexuality almost entirely.

Feet into slippers and a light robe over your shoulders, you quietly tip-toe your way down to the kitchen where it seem that the majority of the early morning happenings be taking place — as you make your way closer, the distinct scent of coffee brewing and and continued sounds of an irritated man, none too thrilled about the conversation taking place, but it's only when you reach the nearest entryway and your presence demands his attention, that you feel as though you may have been walking into more than you had thought to be signing up for.

Black hair styled and slicked back with a gray suit adorning him — it would appear normal, given his occupation, if not for one, glaring, difference to the typical business attire.

No shirt worn underneath the jacket, instead, you find yourself faced with the expanse of smooth skin that you're already well acquainted with, sure.

But not like this?

Your being there appears to fluster him slightly as he turns his back towards you quickly and cusses under his breath despite still being on the phone. Informing the person on the other line that he'll call them back, you watch with a sort of innocent enjoyment as Doyoung pulls the jacket closed before turning to face you again.

"What are you doing awake?" He all but stutters out, a good attempt at maintaining his vocal balance through his embarrassment, you have to give it to him.

With a single eyebrow perked upwards, you offer him nothing more than a gentle grin at first, slipping through the doorway finally and pulling a mug down from one of the higher cupboards to pour yourself a cup of coffee. "I don't sleep so well in new places, it'll take a couple of days to get used to a new bed."

You can't be sure if ignoring the elephant in the room be what he desire right then and there, or if instead it only lending to more awkwardness — so, you make a judgment call then and there as you turn to seat yourself at the kitchen island and hopping into one of the tall stools that reside there.

"So—"

"Don't." He immediately interjects with screwed shut eyes and a palm up towards you.

A small giggle escapes your mouth at his insistence, but beyond that, you choose to let it lie as you quietly scroll through your phone. Doyoung, however, not as easily placated — shuffling around nervously in place, and if you didn't know any better, you might think him to be irritated at your lack of insistence further.

"It's not what it looks like."

Glancing up towards him, you blink once. "I assure you that I have no idea what it looks like."

It's the truth, because after all: what the fuck?

Rolling his eyes and accepting defeat, the man grabs his mug from behind him and seats himself across the way from you with phone in hand as if waiting for a call that he intend on answering the absolute second that it begins coming through.

"So, you know I wrote a book."

You nod.

"Publisher wants me to do some promotional photos for it, now I get word last minute that the photographer isn't coming and they're having a hard time finding someone who can make it all of the way out here in time."

"Is there a reason that they want you to be dressed like a Chippendales dancer for a book about business and finances?"

Groaning and tossing his head back so abruptly you think he might send the entirety of himself barreling backwards and out of his chair, when he comes back upwards, he looks approximately as pained about the whole ordeal as you might expect him to.

"Something about selling more books."

A questioning hum into the rim of your mug, you would be lying if you said that you didn't enjoy having a bit of the high ground over the man for once. Tables turned briefly as he sits across from you nearly nervously sweating the wax out of his perfectly styled hair — when the call begins to come through finally, Doyoung jumps up and out of his chair to answer it — hurried and excited at first, only to find himself sounding just as annoyed and despondent as you had heard him earlier on.

Guess it's not going well.

Turning to you once again as he ends the call and setting his phone onto the granite countertop with a heavy sigh, he tilts his head backwards with eyes closed as if in silent prayer for some sort of answer to this conundrum from some sort of higher power above.

Luckily for him, the answer only need fifteen more minutes to wake up and another cup of coffee, first.

"Did Mina ever tell you I got pretty into photography a few months back?"

"I'm sure she mentioned it."

Slow on the pick-up.

"I brought my stuff with me because you guys live in sort of a good area for landscape photography," you continue on, and thankfully by now the mans eyes start to pick up and raise towards you as you speak. "I don't really do people but it doesn't seem like you're in much of a position to be all that picky."

Quietly taking another sip from your cup, you sit by and wait for the reluctant acceptance: because he's a man out of other options, and you don't really have anything better to be doing this early in the morning, either.

"Fine." Doyoung sighs, tipping his own drink all of the way back to finish it off as if downing a shot of liquor to prepare him for the morning going forward. "Just make sure I look pretty, would you?"

"Of course, darling."

Snapping a few test shots, you pull your camera down from your eye and take a look through the display to check the turn out — given, it's a bit of a rough shoot with no lighting equipment and not much else to help you along your way, but you figure with what you're getting here currently that someone far more talented than yourself be capable of fixing anything decent you get in post.

Looking upwards again and towards your subject: laid out on the white flooring of an otherwise unfurnished room that the happy couple haven't had the time to get around to just yet, Doyoung keeps his attention turned well away from you as you cycle through the photos to determine any better way that you can make this work.

You think, perhaps, that he's still a bit bashful of the circumstances.

Leaning back against his elbows and forearms, you watch him glance towards the ceiling just briefly before finally looking at you.

"Well?"

It's a little bit funny how little he wishes to be doing this right now. Karma, perhaps, for years of subtle torment.

"They look good enough," you admit with a slight nod, sounding almost surprised at the fact. "I think we can get a few good shots pretty quick and have you back in your office writing boring reports, or whatever it is that you do, in no time."

"I'd much rather be doing that." He huffs, turning his attention away again. The movement gives you an excellent shot of the angle of his jaw, however — thus, you bring your camera back up to take a few more pictures before gracing him with a reply.

"I've never met a man so dismayed by being attractive."

"You think I'm attractive?"

You bring the camera down again, a slightly annoyed but playful cock of your head to the side that silently says 'really?', because frankly, it's a stupid question. This is a fact that Doyoung knows, as evidenced by the smirk that takes his lips as a result of your reaction to it.

"It's not the 'being attractive' that's bothersome," he continues on with the thought, offering you an honest response now. "Just don't really need or particularly enjoy this kind of attention on myself. It feels bizarre, especially as someone in my line of work."

It makes sense, and snapping a few more shots, you opt out of a verbal reply and only hum of acknowledgement, instead.

"I'll be happy to have it over with, and now I know, no more books."

Without pulling up from the camera, you carry on with your direction. "Look towards me."

Head turning slowly and eyes settling deeply into your own even through the lens, Doyoung settles into his new pose — a smoldering look to him that really would have you thinking that something like this be his chosen line of profession after all, but shaking it off, you press a few more clicks of the button and check in the view finder once again for how the photos are turning out thus far.

Doyoung's gaze, however, remaining firm on you as you do.

Jacket open again and chest fully on display, you make a good effort of attempting to ignore the flesh before you. Of course, it's far from the first time that you've seen him — and really, you've seen him in far less clothing and far more intimate scenarios, but something about this, you find, doing a little bit extra for your visceral attraction to the man.

Even worse, it's about seven in the morning. Who tries to fuck their best friends husband at seven in the morning?

You do? Maybe?

Mind wandering to the thought of whether or not it's something that is also on his mind, you figure it not too far from the realm of possibility: after all, the relationship between the both of you be almost strictly a sexual one, what else is there for either of you to be fantasizing about whilst in each others company like this?

"Is it good?"

The wording is a little strange, and that's because you know it to be a question with a hidden agenda behind it. A question he often asks you while buried deep within your body, as your eyes fall to his and your camera falls away from your face just a bit, you can quite easily see the sinister curl of one corner of his lips. Knowing, playful, a man with an agenda, indeed.

"Yeah," you answer cooly, not willing to allow him the satisfaction of knowing about your growing arousal. "They look good."

It's then that one of Doyoung's hands slowly glides up and to the front of his trousers — watching on as he expertly unbuttons and unzips them all the while maintaining perfect eye contact with you — there's a part of you deep down that is pleased with the non-verbal communication between the two of you and how far that it has come, even with so much time between the last time and now.

There's also a part of you that's willing to beg to have him in your mouth right now, but you'd rather not make that one so obvious just yet.

"Why don't you come get your reward then?"

Well, so much for the 'not making it that obvious' plan.

Slowly and gently setting the camera down on the only, lone dresser in the entire room, you just as carefully shrug off the robe you had been wearing — long, loose sleeves tending to be a bit of a detriment for these sorts of activities, best to be nimble and able to do whatever it is that you need to do.

The fact that you don't know what that is yet quite possibly the most enticing part of it.

Spending more time with the man in casual settings, you find it charming as well as that much more sexy to see the way he so easily slips into that dominant role. Not that long ago flustered and shy about you catching him in the kitchen in the same open suit coat that he adorn now.

Closing the distance between you and carefully settling down onto your knees between his legs, you watch as his hand slip down and beneath the fabric that still offer coverage from your sights — palming his growing erection just under, and worse than that — still maintaining that devilish eye contact with you like nothing capable of pulling his vision from yours.

"What do you want?" He asks with a sultry groan to him.

And still maintaining that initial desire to not completely give in to his whims, you instead decide on a bit of turnaround. Biting your lip, you look him straight in the eye to deliver your reply. "What do you want?"

It does give him a bit of pause perhaps — a single eyebrow perking up at the slight bit of defiance you dangle before him, but rather than deter him, he leans into it in full.

And you had not calculated the risk of being told precisely what it is that he wants from you accurately, either.

"I want you to spit on my cock, and then I want to watch you gag on it until I come."

It's a total knockout of a response, just like that. Throat running dry and heart thumping hard in your chest at the promise of exactly that, Doyoung's eyes remain on you as he offers you nothing more than a small shrug at your inability to properly digest the information.

"You asked," He adds with a much too sly smirk.

Hand shifting to be removed from his pants, Doyoung runs his thumb over the tip of his length to gather the bit of precum that's since gathered there, and upon its exit, he whispers a simple "come here" as he extends it towards you and presses the digit between your all too accommodating lips to suck him clean. Wet and wrapping around it, you run your tongue around him and offer a gentle suction before the man hooks into the corner of your mouth with a deeply wanting groan.

"Get what you want, then."

Taking his hand back from your face, you waste little more time before hooking your own fingers into the sides of his trousers and giving them a tug — hips lifting off of the flooring for just a moment to allow for the shift — you bring the fabric down just enough to be out of the way, watching as his cock springs free and the tip of it lie against his exposed abdomen. Perching over Doyoung's hips, you take him into one hand, a few languid strokes to feel just how hard he already is before dipping your head down and taking him into your mouth with the swirl of your tongue.

Breath hitching in his throat at the feeling of you, it's one of your favorite things about sucking him off — always just a little bit on the verge of falling apart beneath you entirely as you do so.

Pulling off of him for a moment, you glance back up the length of his body to make eye contact with him once again before allowing the lewd display of saliva to fall from your puckered lips and messily onto his shaft in hand. Then, it's back to business, taking him deeper and fuller into your mouth with light suction and long, slow bobs of your head around him.

"Yeah, just like that, baby," Doyoung whispers out, head falling back to take in the feeling just briefly before bringing his gaze back up to watch the way you work him — not wanting to miss a moment of the show. "Love my cock, don't you? Can't get enough?"

Moaning around him in affirmation, the words cause you to stroke him just that much faster — enjoying the way he sounds when you have him like this.

"Think you can take it all this time?" He asks, voice slightly broken already. "Bet you practiced while we were apart, didn't you? Sucking other cock just in hopes that you can take mine that much better if you were to get the chance."

Throbbing between your legs far from dull at this point with a man never relenting in the dirty talk, you once again groan around him as you also feel yourself falling apart despite being wholly untouched thus far. You can't see him, but you feel the shift of his weight to free one of his arms for movement, followed by the familiar feeling of his fingers collecting loose strands of hair as he intertwine them into the collection of it at the back of your head.

Leverage.

There's truth to his words, though. Not so much about sucking off ever Tom, Dick and Harry in town just to practice for the inevitable resurrection of your sexual relationship with Doyoung specifically, but you had seen other men since then, and you had sucked some of their dicks.

You're a little proud of the progress made, sure.

Bringing yourself up enough that only the tip of him remain between your lips, you take a deep breath in preparation for what's to come — the gentle, careful press of his hand down against the back of your head to force more of his cock into your mouth...slowly, inch-by-inch and with no rush to have you take the entirety of him in one go, when he reaches the back of your throat you focus on steadying and relaxing yourself for him. Hissing through his teeth at the feeling of burying himself so deeply within your mouth and throat, as he ventures further, you feel the welling of tears in your eyes at the light discomfort of it.

It's not bad, and far from enough to not want to keep going — rather, the excitement of having so much of him far outweighing those things, anyway.

Slipping into your throat delicately, Doyoung instead opts for short, shallow thrusts into you for the rest of the way, and once he feels your nose against his pubic bone, he can't help the breathy moan that escapes from his lips.

It's heavenly, hearing him so desperate beneath you.

Pulling you back up and off of him slowly, the two of you look at one another — you with teary, wet eyes and swollen, red lips — you think that the darkness in his eyes deepens just that much more at the sight of you destroyed on his cock before him.

"Think you can take it again?"

"Yeah."

"Such a good girl. Go ahead then, swallow me down."

Repeating the previous motions, before your nose settles against his skin, Doyoung instead opts for slow drives of himself into your mouth — gently throat fucking you with dizzying, incoherent sounds melting from his lips as you take just about all of him inside of you like this. It takes very little time before you hear and feel the familiar notions of him reaching his peak, a few harder, deeper drives of his cock up and into your mouth through his attempt to maintain his composure that have you gagging around him ever so slightly, and just as promised.

"Fuck, you take it so well now," he all but whines, eyes screwed shut and eyebrows knitted tightly together as he shallowly bucks his hips up into your mouth to chase his release. "Wanted to earn my cum, didn't you?"

You can't grace him with an answer, and he knows it well enough — the dirty talking is for you, really, knowing the way that every word pools between your legs — an unrelenting throb there now and unknowing if you'll be offered the same release that the man under you be about to experience.

In a way, you almost don't even care if you cum.

Suddenly, Doyoung pulls your head up and off of him completely to instead replace it with his hand — quickly stroking himself to completion only to empty his load on the expanse of exposed skin along his abs and sternum with a hot, heavy, whiny vocalization.

Catching your breath for only a second, in one, fluid motion you dip your head down to lick the white-translucent fluid off of his body as his chest heaves just above where you work.

Turning your head to grant you the ability to look up at him, the two of you make eye contact once again as your tongue dips out to collect his cum. Head falling back, he lets out an exasperated moan at the sheer sight of your desire for him.

"Ride my face," he suddenly demands, hands reaching down for your arms and already pulling you up and towards him. "Now. Come on my face."

A dizzying request from him and not one you had factored into the potential possibilities, you don't bother inquiring further as you struggle to your feet and discard your garments as quickly as possible before wobbling over to him and kneeling above his face with creeping uncertainty.

Doyoung wastes no time, however, digging fingers into the flesh of your behind and pulling your soaking cunt flush against his mouth — digging his tongue firmly into your clit and offering you the much needed relief you had been hoping for. Whimpering in his grasp, he goes at you hard and fast straight from the get go in a way that has you reeling with the threat of an orgasm that you knew wouldn't be all that far off from the horizon, anyway.

"Doyoung, fuck—"

Moaning against you, the vibration tickling your sensitive nub just that much more as he quickly circles over it with far more than just expertise, you find yourself thankful for the close proximity of the wall just behind him as you fall forward slightly and find leverage against it. "Fuck, fuck, I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come—"

You sound somewhat surprised by the fact, large in part because you are. Not that you anywhere near able to follow the flow of time, rather, you know that it certainly hasn't been long since having made your way up here, and already Doyoung is having you tumbling over into orgasm.

In the last moments before you cum; grinding down hard against the mans mouth as he groan up into you and fingers digging into you flesh to hold you in place — you look down ever so briefly to find his eyes — narrow, lustful, and with a job to fulfill right before you come with an embarrassingly high pitched shriek, thighs quaking around his head as you bite the tail end of your yell back and indulge in the feeling of him sucking any coherent thought that you could ever possibly have in that moment straight out of you through your pussy.

And as you wind down from the exhaustion of your early morning escapades, you shakily crawl off of him, clumsily falling to the floor next to him and heaving in the afterglow of ecstasy. The two of you enjoy the silence for just a moment before Doyoung turns his head lazily to allow his eyes to fall upon your weary form.

"Breakfast?"

Huffing out an exhausted laugh, you can't help but smile at the nonchalance of it all as you grant him a nod. "Yeah, that'd be great."

"Cool," he says, bringing himself up and to his feet to shrug off the suit jacket entirely and leaving it bunched up on the floor next to you. "You suck my dick like that again and I'll cook you a six course meal every day until Mina gets home."

"Good to know."

With your nose buried in your laptop and comfortably sat in the lavish living room with no company other than yourself, you tab away at your keyboard to answer work emails and respond to other such employment related inquiries. Approximately a week into your stay at the current residence, you find yourself quite easily settled in by now: the two of you working on your own for the majority of the day, occasionally meeting in the kitchen or the hallway as either you or Doyoung come to and from your standard whereabouts, and, if given the free time at a whim — a quickie where ever either of you wish to have the other.

The entire circumstances fundamentally erotic — your entire being there at all deeply erotic in a sense — but with a week down and more rounds under your belt than days spent there already, you can't help but find that the simplicity of domesticity already setting in, in a way.

When Mina had suggested a sort of 'fake-dating' scenario, you hadn't anticipated it being so on the nose.

Because it truly does feel as though you and Doyoung are dating: engaged in a relationship beyond just the sexual, despite being intensely sexually charged and the entire surroundings of it being build off of that. You eat together, you chat together, you shower together occasionally — for all intents and purposes, you are, as Mina had suggested, dating; in some way, shape, or form.

It's not boring, but a sense of excitement and luster has already worn off in a way that you can't help but acknowledge. Of course, you still desire the man viscerally just as you always had the very moment you began your physical relationship with him...but the fact of the matter is just that: it's different now.

Upon sending out your last email at just before four in the afternoon, you shut your laptop in tune to the sound of Doyoung treading down the upstairs hallway and making his way down the stairs. Glancing up towards him, the two of you make eye contact, giving him pause for just a second before he continues his way down to the floor level of the home.

"What do you say about ordering in tonight, I don't feel like cooking again."

Dramatically throwing yourself back along the length of the couch, you swing your arm up and across your face like a damsel in distress at the mere thought of not being personally catered to. "What ever will I do? What's the point of even being here?"

He rolls his eyes at your overacting. "I'm going to order a pizza. I'll order two so that there are leftovers for tomorrow, then I can really punish you if I have to."

"Kinky," you quip back playfully as you bring yourself back up to a sitting position on the black leather. "Then what?"

Bringing his hands to settle on his hips, Doyoung simply stares at you with his head cocked to the side.

"If you think I'm going to be your tough, hard dominant boy-toy your whole stay then sorry to disappoint, but I'm only one man, I need some rest too, you know."

Of course, the banter is part of the fun of it. Something that the two of you have always engaged in, but as of late with the comfort of living together established, a new level of it unlocked. Easier and more fluid. Where once upon a time there be perhaps more truthful venom behind comments or words, instead now rest an adoring familiarity between the new faux-couple.

"Endlessly disappointing, aren't you?" You sigh in response, unable to fully hide your grin.

"So I've been told," he's quick to admit. "But if you're good tonight then there is something you might be pleased to discuss over dinner."

An intriguing promise of what's to come, and entirely unknowing of what it is that he be referring to, you find your curiosity to most definitely be piqued. Eyebrow quirking upward at the sly comment, you're mindful of the mischievous glimmer in his eye that you know to only present itself when the man have something very particular, and particularly raunchy, at that, in mind.

As the both of you settle into the smaller living room area just next to the dining room — fireplace lightly crackling in the not too far off distance and a cheap bottle of white wine opened and set on the tiny coffee table, as the television in front of you sounds off to fill the room with sitcom chatter and laughter, you glance over to the man just next to you: sitting with legs crossed in front of him and his plate balanced onto his lap as he bite into a slice of cheap, cheese pizza. It's a sight that you come to realize in the moment that you're unfamiliar with, all things considered: a particularly raw and true level of domesticity where Doyoung exist as just some guy, in the best way possible. You realize in this moment as well, that it's times like this that are likely cause for Mina's falling in love with him. A good man, after all — and more than that, seemingly perfectly well-rounded in all ways, as well.

Even so, as the flicker of illumination dances across sharp, pretty features — round, framed glasses perched upon his nose and rather unkempt hair in the front from a hand running through it numerous times that day — the conversation mentioned earlier weighs the heaviest on your mind with promise of, well, you don't quite know yet; but you sure would like to find out.

"So," you chime, semi-awkwardly on purpose and for effect. It's enough to garner his attention already, a man not all that wrapped up in the show carrying on before him to begin with. "About that talk."

"Right," he quickly responds with a single nod, setting the food down onto the plate in front of him and bending forward to set it onto the table between the both of you. "About that. I was curious how much of this...arrangement you were looking to explore in our time together."

The inquiry brings pause, finding the wording of it slightly difficult to navigate, because what does he mean by that?

You suppose your hesitancy is telling, however — Doyoung chuckling lightly under his breath before rephrasing the question more clearly.

"I mean...the first time we started sleeping together you were interested in exploring a rather dominant and submissive power play scenario. I'm wondering if you're wanting to explore that further."

'Further,' you think, being the operative word, and yes, yes you do.

Reaching forward for your glass of wine, you take a sip before answering him confidently. "Yeah, I've thought about it. I had done some exploring this past year but—"

Hesitating to think through your words carefully, Doyoung interjects with the thought you had been leaning towards anyway, and in a way, it proves your point just that much more.

"—Haven't established that level of trust with anyone?"

"Yeah, that."

He nods, finally spinning himself in place on the couch to fully face towards you. In a way he appears particularly earnest, as if even now still vying for that level of trust necessary to engage in the even harder, darker sides of BDSM as implied.

"Then," he says a bit more seriously than you would have ever really expected. "Tell me what you want."

You suppose that as far as situations that require a more serious touch, this be at the top of his list.

It's not something that you've spent all that much time thinking about, however. No list of 'things to try' on hand or a bullet pointed note on your laptop of all of the ways in which you wish for him to have you. Rather, they be fleeting, passing moments that you find yourself fantasizing about in private, discarded just as quickly as they find themselves making way into your mind.

But you do know that they still lie embedded in there somewhere, you just have to dig them back up.

As well as relay them to him in plain, simple words. It's not only an admittance of desire, but one of confession: 'this is all of the ways I've wanted you even since then.'

You swallow down the bubbling humiliation though, knowing that if not capable of bestowing upon him precisely what it is that you want of him that he be in no position to grant it to you.

He needs to know everything, because he has to have a plan.

"Restraints," you begin, inhaling deeply after the word leaves your mouth. "Orgasm control, impact play...basically all of the same but turned up a notch."

Doyoung nods, reaching towards his own glass of wine and sipping from the rim. Then, after thinking through your words, he offers another nod of understanding.

"Okay, then here are my rules: first, the same safe wording system will remain in place, we both know it and are familiar with using it so I think that's best. Second, no renegotiation mid-scene, it makes it difficult for me to be able to have an understanding of where you are and also gives me cause to have less trust in your word—"

Pausing again and with his head tilted down towards his lap, he glances up through his eyelashes at you for explicit eye contact in that moment.

"—And if I'm going to hit you, I need to be able to trust your word of when it's just enough, or too much."

"Yeah, of course."

"Cool," he finally sighs, dropping the tough and serious exterior to once again fall back into the Just A Guy role he had previously been enjoying. Doyoung slumps to the side and against the back of the couch with a contented grin as he finishes up his thought. "Tomorrow evening, then? Doesn't have to be then—"

"No!" You nearly shout, already thrilled with the thought of all that's soon to come to you. "No, tomorrow is good, perfect."

Standing to his feet, the man reaches down to take both of your plates into hand with intention of heading towards the kitchen. "I'm going to head to bed then. Long day, tomorrow will be longer now — try to get some good rest tonight."

Needing no verbal response, you sit back comfortably against the large cushions of the couch as he begin to head towards his exit — it's then, that a sudden thought comes to mind in an instant, and before your window for negotiation truly closes, you have to put it out there, now or never.

"Oh! Doie? One more thing about the scene tomorrow?"

He hums in acknowledgment of your words, merely glancing back and over his shoulder at you in wait for what it is that you wish to add.

"When you hit me...leave your wedding band on."

Snorting through his nose with a chuckle, the man playfully shakes his head at the thought and the implications behind it — just as quick on the uptake of one of the joys of kink exploration within the confines of this arrangement.

No one is cheating on anyone, doesn't mean we can't pretend, though.

"Kinky minx," He responds coyly, dumping the dishes into the sink and disappearing into the darkness of the otherwise unlit household.

"Shall we?"

Doyoung's voice is calm and pleasant when he asks the question. There's a hint of knowing within it, a playful nuance in regards to what's to come from here on out that already has anticipation pooling between your legs in a relatively unexpected way. You were excited for tonight, of course, but a physical response as a result of him merely alluding to it not exactly something you had foreseen in your future.

You recall Mina telling you how good of a dom he is a year ago.

The evenings festivities call for a one drink maximum: a rule implemented by the man himself to ensure that the parties involved be well aware of themselves and within the grips of their own feelings and boundaries enough to ensure safe play. One drink offering plenty to take the buzz of nervousness edge off, after all.

Dinner is light. Enough to keep the both of you fed and fulfilled without weighing either of you down, especially when you can't be sure when or if you're to be gagged — and beyond that, on what, you'd rather not take the risk of throwing up all over him — at least, minimize it as much as possible.

None of this is all that new to you, though. You've played before, partaken in kink and gone to parties before. Engaged in such things with people who are not Doyoung in between then and now — but as you quietly follow him downstairs and into the basement below, you find yourself so much calmer with him that with any of your previous play partners before.

It's not a matter of poor vetting and even poorer partner choices: you've had fun, it's been safe, and everyone has left satisfied. However, there just be something special about your play partner now — a level of trust and understanding between the two of you that takes an edge of uncertainty from the back of your mind and discards it entirely.

You don't have to worry about him, not even a little bit. As a result, you don't have to worry about you, either.

"I can't believe you two have a dungeon, how cliche," You sarcastically quip as your foot lands onto the floor at the end of the stairs.

Doyoung glances at you briefly from over his shoulder and shoots you a roll of his eyes. "It's not a dungeon, we just wanted to keep the upstairs bedrooms available for guests. We had no other plans for the basement, so—"

"—So, you turned it into a dungeon," You finish for him.

Walking over to a small, unceremonious table, Doyoung pulls out a tube of hand lotion from one of the old, brown drawers and squeezes a small dab of it into palm. "If calling it that gets you off, then by all means."

As the man settle in and begin preparing for the activities, you take it upon yourself to glance around and take in the sights. Truly, it's nothing like the fancy, mommy-porn movies: no huge rigs or handcuffs hanging from the ceiling. Rather, it's sort of just a regular room — obviously re-done since moving in to serve this purpose specifically, you take notice of the king sized bed off at the furthest end of the rather small underneath of the home — satin, royal blue sheets and a single pair of restraints hanging from one of the golden bedposts there.

"Have you ever played submissive?"

It's a question that's rattled around your brain for a while now, suppose now is as good a time as ever to sate the curiosity. Doyoung comes up from behind you so quietly that it nearly startles you with another pair of wrist binds in his grips, and as you glance back and the two of you make eye contact, he reaches out for your hand — slowly fastening one of them to your wrist before answering the question.

"If you must know, yes," He says, tightening the restraint against your skin just firm enough for a good hold, and without causing pain. "One of those...'you gotta try it once' sort of situations."

"How did that go?" You ask further as he spins you in place to face him, fastening the other half of the tan leather to you. Doyoung offers you a sly grin first, slowly stepping you backwards on your heels and towards the bed, before gently tipping you and causing you to fall flat on your back to the mattress below.

"Didn't take."

While restraints, you find, aren't typically your thing, it's a situation in which you feel comfortable with him. You question momentarily if there be any other person in the world that you would be willing to be in this current scenario with: bound and laid out against the sheets of someone's basement bed, and the answer is a quite easy and resounding 'no.'

"Recite back the safe word system," He demands, tone dropping in a way that you know this be the beginnings of the scene at hand. You watch him as he rolls up the sleeve of his white, button down shirt — more or less still dressed up from the work day just before — sort of the archetype of the CEO dominant man that while typically you don't find yourself creaming yourself for...this time, it's sort of working for you.

"Green is good to keep going, yellow to slow down and lighten up, red is full stop to the scene. If unable to speak: two taps to someone's body is effectively a yellow sign, and three is a red sign."

"Good girl," he chimes, squatting down to the edge of the bed between your legs and hooking fingers into the sweatpants you're wearing. "Scene renegotiation?"

"Only to lessen, never to strengthen."

Pulling the fabric down your legs, panties and all, you feel the rush of cool air against your flesh in a particularly stark way — your body temperature seemingly already flaring up at just the mere discussion of the rules from here on out, you find this to also be an unexpected turn out of tonight's engagements.

"Sit up," He then requests; a near impossible task for you alone given your bind. He knows this, naturally, and reaches for the center of your restraints to pull you upwards and seated just as he desires.

Cold fingers just grazing the flesh of your torso as he grabs at the hem of your shirt and brings it up over your head, it's electric — felt through what you think could be every nerve of your body with barely any physical touch at all.

A worrying trend for your resolve tonight.

With you fully disrobed, Doyoung pushes you to lie back again, dipping down into his previous position and hooking his arms under your legs to pull your bottom to the edge of the bed. It's exciting already: the anticipation of what's to come and what he will do with you — relinquishing all power and ability to be an engaging participant in your activities in a way not yet engaged in since your time arriving in the home.

It's then that he dips a single finger between your folds — the touch is delicate, barely offering you any sort of stimulation at all, and as a result, you're already keening and attempting to melt yourself into his touch. This, of course, gives him great pleasure at the sight of you already so needy and wanting for him — evidenced on his face as he looks up at you from between your legs and gives your clit the lightest feathering of a swirl with the tip of the digit present there.

"In a rush?" He asks teasingly, still circling the collection of nerves between your thighs.

A dizzying offering of almost nothing to your body despite knowing how you crave his touch.

"What do you want?" Doyoung questions as if speaking to no one in particular, finger dipping down towards your opening and shallowing pressing inward as if intending to penetrate you. "I take it you want me to fuck you open with my hand?"

With a small whimper dropping from your mouth, he hums inquisitively. "Feel my tongue on you? Taste you like you have the last cunt on earth?"

"Yes," You finally whine in reply, but the response from you garners nothing from the man in question.

Instead, and in a rather surprising turn of events, Doyoung gives you just that: carefully slipping a single finger into you, slowly fucking into you with ease as a result of the ample arousal already having pooled there. It's shallow, slow, and far from enough to get you anywhere you're wanting so desperately to go, but better than nothing — a moment later, you feel the heated waves of breath across your labia as he brings his mouth mere centimeters from your mound.

Nearly instinctually you attempt to grind yourself down and against his hand and face, but it results in little given your lack of mobility. A light chuckle offered from him as a result of your wanting, you feel him press his lips lightly against your lower ones, but only to speak.

"You think I'm going to let you come?" He questions, offering one, long, stripe of his tongue through your slit finally and giving you the warm, wet, contact that you've been silently begging for. "You still want it even though you know I won't, that's how desperate you are for me, isn't it?"

Whining out a breathy affirmation of the fact, he serves you another press of his tongue against you for what you can only figure is 'good behavior.'

"I can always make you come so quick like this, can't I? Like your pussy was made for me—" He carries on the thought, pausing long enough to drag his tongue over you languidly and pulling from you the most desperate whines each and every time. "Body made for me, isn't it? Your mouth, your throat, your cunt, your ass...all mine for the taking, aren't they?"

The moan that tears from your throat at the words is nothing sort of humiliating.

"Answer."

"Yes, they are," You force yourself to reply through a breathy, broken voice.

"I know, you're so good for me. What a perfect little toy for me to come inside and toss aside until next time, aren't you?"

You don't have a chance to respond before his mouth is attached to you, tongue digging firmly into your clit and the sound of him sucking into you resonating through the otherwise empty basement. Eyes screwing shut, you only have a second of self-awareness to realize that he really might be able to make you come in record time at this rate. Curling his fingers up into you and running his tongue across you in just the way that he knows gets you there, you whine out loudly — back coming up and off the bed as he seemingly tries to get you there already.

"Fuck, fuck—" you breathe out as your body finds itself on the precipice of orgasm, but as a man all too good at what he does; expert hands and mouth bringing you just to the brink before pulling back from you entirely and watching your body tremble at the feeling of the loss. "—Doyoung please, please please."

"And what have you done to earn it, hm?" He asks, leaning forward and over your body to take your bound hands into his grasp and sit you upright at the edge of the bed before him. Still shaking lightly from the feeling of a ruined orgasm, hair strewn about your face and eyes glazed over from the need — Doyoung looks down at you with a gentle cock of his head as if charmed by the sight of you already so fucked out with so little having taken place yet.

Hands reaching down for his belt and subsequently releasing his erection from the confines of his black trousers, you're forced to watch him lightly palm himself just in front of your face.

How familiar a sight it is.

"You know how to earn it, don't you baby?"

You nod, although it's not enough for the man before you. "Answer."

"Yes, I can earn it."

"Good girl," he says, angling the tip of his length down and to your lips, only lightly dragging across before gently tapping you with it as a signal to open your mouth for him. "Though, suppose this is a bit of a reward in and of itself, isn't it? You love my cock, isn't that right?"

With only the tip of him presented between your lips, you're able to still speak around him. A simple "I do, please let me earn it" falling from you before you're able to even register the words and the meaning behind them.

It never gets old the way this man can have you falling apart with ease.

Hand dipping to the back of your head, Doyoung pulls you forward and sheathes as much of himself inside of the warmth of your mouth as he comfortably can at first — just like the last time, there's no aim for discomfort or pushing any particular limits this time — rather, he understands yours and your abilities well enough by now to know precisely the best way to go about having you, and equally as much, allowing you to have him.

Lips firmly wrapped around him, with each pulling back of your head, you look up at him to meet eyes — narrow, dark ones staring down at you to watch the way his cock disappears inside of your body.

"Fuck, that's it baby," he whispers out as he begins to gently drive himself into your face. "Such a pretty face, just made for me to fuck."

But for as much as Doyoung knows you and your body, the same can be said for you and his — you know this sort of engagement to be his weakness, and for all of the chiding he does at your inability to hold out on him, the very same can be said for him in these situations.

Bringing his hand forward and from the back of your head, he instead grasps your jaw, prying it open forcefully so. "Open, swallow it down. Take it all."

Giving you little time to adjust, you feel him press his hips forward and as a result, begin the drive of his cock down into your throat. Gagging around him, he pulls off quickly. "Color?"

"Green."

And with that, he serves you another, direct press of his length down into your throat. Easier this time, but the sound of your heaved breaths and gurgling around him as your nose meets his flesh going straight to that place deep within him that you can tell makes him want to come at a moments notice. As a result, he pulls back and from your mouth entirely — giving you a moment to catch your breath before grabbing at your chin once again and forcing your mouth open for him.

"My little cockslut has gotten so good at that. You sound so pretty when you're gagging around my dick."

Leaning forward, he allows a small dropping of saliva to fall from his mouth and into yours before once again pressing his length between your lips and shallowly fucking your mouth with a few, quick, thrusts.

"You want my come?" He asks firmly, stepping away only enough for the tip of him to rest against your mouth.

"Yes."

And then it comes: one light, open-palmed snap of his wrist against the side of your jaw.

"I don't believe you, make me believe it."

"Yes! Yes, please come in my mouth, please let me taste you, Doie."

Tightly gripping your jaw again, he holds you in place to rub the mess of saliva and precum thoroughly around your face — so wet that it's nearly dripping from you — Doyoung smiles down at you at the sound of the pet name leaving your mouth.

Because that's when he knows you're really fucked up for him.

Another, slightly harder tap of the inside of his fingers to your jaw — it doesn't hurt and it's far from jarring in any way, but the implications of it within the scene driving you absolutely wild in the moment, you're happy you asked for this in particular.

The glimmer of his wedding ring still present on his hand, all the while.

"So nice of my wife to offer me such a compliant play-thing to use as I wish while she's gone," he says, finally dropping his pants to the floor entirely and beginning the unbuttoning of his shirt as if to soon discard it entirely. "Suppose now I get to decide which hole I want to take, don't I?"

You nod, and as a result, Doyoung lands the hardest connection of his hand to your face that he's given you thus far. This time, enough to actually cause your head to move a bit, as well as the slightest sting to the skin.

"How many times do I have to instruct you to answer? Are you already so fuck-dumb that you can't remember one, single rule?"

"No! I know it, I'm sorry!" You quickly amend with a shake of your head. "You can have anything you want from me."

"I know," he plainly responds, as if already grown tired of the discussion at hand. Simultaneously, Doyoung pushes you to the side and back against the bed, only this time pulling you up by the hips and displaying you bent over and lewdly spread open for him at the edge of the bed. "I'll take what I want, that is your purpose here, after all, isn't it?"

"It is," You quickly answer this time as to avoid punishment.

Feeling the tip of his cock pressed against your opening, you hear the man chuckle from behind you at the sight before him. "Your messy little cunt is practically dripping. Begging to be filled with me. Pathetic."

The words garner a whimper, and pathetic is correct as you feel him drag the length of his cock up and down your folds in a simulation of fucking you. Slow, concentrated drives against you, but not into you, that have you keening and attempting to push back and onto him in a way that is far beyond humiliating — a new low for you, even given your previous encounters. You don't think you've ever needed to feel him this badly, and worse than that, you know that he knows it, too.

You're thankful when he readjusts his position, feeling the tip of him pressed at your opening again followed by the smooth, easy glide of his full length into you. A dizzying feeling of being so full of him after what feels like an eternity of being denied him in so many ways, Doyoung sinks into you from behind and sits flush against your ass for only a moment before leaning forward and harshly gripping his fingers into your hair.

Followed with a hard, rough, snaps of his hips into you that has you nearly toppling forward at the momentum of it.

"You thought I was going to fuck you for you?" He breaths out, venom lacing his tone as he delivers another, harsh, thrust into you. "You're nothing but a hole for me to fuck, and come in."

Pressing your face into the mattress, the man then focus entirely on his own pleasure: chasing his release as he fucks you hard, quick, and selfishly. No concern for the proximity of your orgasm as a result of him.

The irony being, of course, that after so much lead up to this moment, you're just about there, anyway.

Stopping briefly and much to your display, Doyoung comes around to the side of you to release you of your restraints, but as he settles in behind you and sinks into you all over again, you feel him lean forward to retrieve both of your wrists and twisting them behind you — new, better leverage for him to use your body with like this.

"God, your cunt feels fucking heavenly," he groans through rough drives into you and over the sound of your pathetic, fucked-out babbling just below. "Useless bitch not good for anything but taking my cock, guess you're good for something, after all."

"Fuck, Doie—" you whine out at the culmination of words and the feeling of him relentlessly pounding you.

"Yeah? Is the little whore gonna come anyway? Even when I just try to use your body to dump my load in, it still gets you off, that's how much you love it, huh?"

He's right. This one might keep you up at night in the future.

"Yes—" you whimper breathlessly, dangling on the edge of your now inevitable release. "Yes, yes, yes, please I'm gonna come—"

"Fine," he hums, similarly close to his own peak. "Come then, want to feel you milk me when I fuck my load into your messy little pussy."

And so you do. Your orgasm ripping through your body hard and quick — shrieking loudly against the mattress as Doyoung continues to pound you through it — shaking and clawing at nothing attainable as it tears through every inch of your body. You're barely aware enough to hear him groan out from behind you as his own takes him: cock deeply buried into your walls as he unloads inside of you — cock so hard and deep that you feel the pulse and twitch with every rope of cum that he delivers to your insides.

Slowly, carefully pulling from you, listening for the way his breaths are heavy and worn from the scene having just played out to perfection, as you fall to your side to lie flat against the bed to catch your own you feel the gentle, careful dip of the mattress from just beside you as he settles in just the same.

Silence blanketing between the two of you, you inhale to speak — only to be cut off by words of his own in an entirely unsurprising and frankly, shocking way.

"I'm sorry."

"What?"

The snap question comes out before you have a second to even really mull over what it is that he could be apologizing for, because frankly, everything went on without a hitch. It was everything you had wanted and maybe even more, and now he's apologizing for it?

Arm slinging up and over his face as if to hide himself from you in a way, Doyoung sighs. "You know I don't mean that stuff right? About this being the only reason you're here? I feel kinda..."

"You're dropping right now," you interject suddenly, reaching over to take his hand into your to offer him some seemingly much needed soft, physical comfort. "What do you say we head up to that big tub you guys have in the upstairs bathroom and take a nice, cozy bath?"

With a delicate squeeze of your hand, you take it as an accepting of terms — not even bothering to dress before escaping the basement and wobbling yourselves up to the next scene on the agenda: aftercare.

"When did you know you wanted to marry Mina?"

Sat up against one end of the tub with Doyoung's back to you, you run soapy fingers through messy, black strands — nails gently grazing the flesh beneath in such a soothing way that you all but feel the man melting into you presence, he hums at the question before sighing to answer it.

"Quite early in our dating, actually," The man replies confidently, head tilting back so that you can lather him up better. "Maybe three, four months in I felt like she was going to be the woman I spent the rest of my life with. Of course, we were kids so we dated for a long time before taking the step, but I knew."

A charming side of him that you typically find yourself unfamiliar with — listening to him muse about the love of his life, your best friend, and the ease in which he does so even in the most intimate company of yourself.

"Cute," you whisper from just behind him, wetting your hands again before setting them back within his tresses. "Who knew you were such a soft romantic?"

"Hey! I have many sides to myself!"

Happy with your cleansing, you take the shower nozzle into hand and instruct him to dip his head back towards you even more to gently rinse the suds from him, and once rid of them entirely, you delicately press his head back upwards to wrap your arms around his shoulders.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better."

Planting a kiss to an exposed shoulder blade, your lips linger there as if to speak directly into his skin. "Have you ever dropped like that before?"

Doyoung chuckles at the question, as if slightly humiliated by the answer as he nods his head in affirmation of it. "Yeah, Mina could tell you plenty a story about coddling me after a particularly rough dom drop."

But rather than shameful, you find it adding a new level of humanity to the man that only allows for you to appreciate him and the role that he take on just that much more.

"You did well," you offer him in solace with a squeeze of your arms that encompass him. "It was amazing. I couldn't imagine playing like that with — well, anyone who isn't you, I suppose."

Reaching to find your hand, he takes it into his and presses the back of it to his lips for a small peck.

"Good, I'm glad. I had fun, too."

After drying off and heading back down to the kitchen for a late night, before bed snack, as the both of you head into your separate directions for sleep, it crosses your mind to ask him to spend it with you.

You find in the next two weeks that the majority of the time is spent much like the first: working from the home and occasionally meeting with your live-in partner for silly activities when the time should meet and the interest strike: the occasional blowjob in the kitchen, or being eaten out against the upstairs railing of the hallway — and if time really permits, bent over the back of the couch where you typically work from. Suppose it can be chalked up to the excitement of a sort of honeymoon phase shared between the two of you, after all, this just be yet another arrangement with an end date, and if the effort is to show, then you both have every intention of getting your proverbial moneys worth.

In the midst of a particularly slow work week for you, and a much heftier one for Doyoung, you find him out and about much less — earlier so offering you the handling of his credit card to order food to the house as you see fit on account of him having little to no free time to do any of his usual cooking — you accept it with a bit of a dropped heart. Sure, there's joy in having free reign of a rather full bank account not belonging to yourself, but more than that; the enjoyment of spending time with him now cut incredibly short and on a whim.

Your relationship together has shifted. It's not necessarily just sex (although that still be a large portion of it), but rather, the two of you melding together in a way that you figure neither of you had really seen coming. Enjoying the company of each other in non-sexual settings — in fact, you come to realize that dinner be one of your favorite times of the day as you wind down from working hours and instead just chat about normal, everyday things. Goings on in the world, work, maybe even some gossip about friends — a bizarre realization, and so far into your time spent here now: you and Doyoung are friends.

Sure, friends that viscerally enjoy the body of the other, but still just friends aside from that.

Waking late one night on account of what in particular — you can't be so sure — you grab your phone from next to you to read the time: a quarter past three in the morning. Having grown accustomed to the bed in which you currently lie, you settle your head back into the pillow to once again meander off to dream land; that is, before you hear the familiar clattering of keyboard typing from down the hall.

It's not that you can't sleep through it, you most definitely can — the sound not carrying far or loud enough to disturb you all that much — rather, it's the thought that Doyoung be up still, this late at night, and to work, at that.

Kim Doyoung is many things. Workaholic high on the list, certainly.

Slipping your robe on over your shoulders like so many times before, you once again carry yourself down the hall quietly — as if meant not to awaken anyone despite being the only two people in the home — as you reach the doorway where his study reside, you listen in for the sound of the keyboard again before entering and disturbing him in full.

But instead, you're met with silence.

You know what you've heard, though, and turning into the door, you suppose you can't be all that surprised by the sight that greets you: a man slumped back in his chair, head tilted back and against the headrest, utterly unconscious as the bright, blue light of the monitor before him illuminates his handsome features.

At the very least you're happy to find him comfortably dressed for late night engagements like this — gray sweatpants and a matching gray pullover sweater with the name of the widely regarded college that he had attended years back — you take it upon yourself to step towards him and with a gentle hand pressed to his shoulder, you slowly shake him back to his senses.

"Doyoung," you whisper, an attempt to pull him back into a conscious state with as little startling as possible. "Doie, wake up."

Thankful for the ease in which he comes to, picking himself back up to sit straight and rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands, Doyoung blinks hard towards the screen before glancing up and towards you. "What are you doing up?"

"I could ask the same of you," You quip back, hands into your hips like a disappointed mother figure. "Let's get you to bed, Mister."

"Mom—" he drawls, playing along with the scene, but saving his work and shutting the machine down all of the same as he stands to his feet. "I don't wanna."

You sling an arm around his waist as his finds your shoulders — realistically the man have no problem walking, of course — but you find the scene charming all of the same. As you turn to your left in an attempt to take him to his bedroom, he fights the movement, instead pushing towards the right and down the hall towards your own bedroom.

"Lemmie put you back to bed, first," Doyoung insists, still motioning that way with his body weight against you. "It's the least I can do for you saving me from the grips of Excel spreadsheets."

A bit of a charmer.

Relenting, the two of you make your way down the darkened path and back into your bedroom. He lags behind you next to your bed, nimble fingers reaching into the neckline of your robe to help remove it from your body as you once again lie yourself in bed and cozy up within the sheets — still warm from your presence just earlier in the night.

Doyoung kneels down next to you, arms crossed against the edge and chin pressed into them as he gazes up at you.

"You're the most boring man I know," you start with a breathy chuckle. "Staying up late to do spreadsheets."

"Yes, I know," He willingly admits with a pleasant cock of his head. "Do you want me carnally?"

Reaching over your own body to playfully slap his arm, you opt out of answering the asinine question. Largely due to your awareness of it being rhetorical, but also in part to the both of you knowing that yeah, obviously you do. Embarrassing.

"Get some sleep." He finally says with finality to his tone, standing to his feet with intent to leave.

You figure, now is as good a time as any.

"Actually—" you start, the word coming out a bit more meekly than you had hoped when thinking it through in your head. You suppose it's the possibility of rejection that has to reeling with this sort of lack of confidence that is relatively unfamiliar to you. Still, you push forward with the inquiry; a disservice to yourself not to. "Would you sleep with me? Like, spend the night with me?"

The question gives him pause, and as a result, has you second guessing yourself, too.

"You don't have to, I mean, I don't know if you're not allowed or just don't want to, it's just—"

"—I'm allowed to sleep with you," he interjects suddenly to cut off your anxious word-vomiting, a small smile pulling at his lips as he continues the thought. "The only rule is we can't do anything in the shared bedroom, but yeah, I can spend the night with you."

"Oh," you whisper, perhaps the largest part of you not having anticipated this response after all. "Okay."

"Is that what you want?"

"Yeah, kind of." You answer with a tiny nod.

Instead of engaging in the conversation about it any further, Doyoung takes it as an opportunity to accept your terms and disrobe for the evening: you watch him intently, taking in all of the ways that his body move as he pull the shirt up and over his head to toss it aside — toned chest that you've seen so many times before now only visible through the slivers of illumination granted by the moon through your blinds — it feels intimate in a different way this time: like normal lovers. People not involved in an 'arrangement,' people who are simply dating and might even have sex with each other because often times, that's what people who are dating and attracted to each other do. Falling asleep in one another's arms in the afterglow of it, or maybe just falling asleep in one another's arms as the grand finale of the evening together.

His pants go next, and before you have much of a chance to think further on it, you feel the man slip into your bed and under your covers as you scoot across the mattress to the other side to accommodate for his figure.

"I picked out this mattress," he proudly chimes. "Good, right?"

"No wonder I sleep so well here, thing probably costs an arm and a leg."

"Yeah, it kind of did." Doyoung chuckles, turning to his side to face you.

Silence blanketing the room, with such little light shone in you find it difficult to keep track of where he is, or what he's doing whilst beneath the sheets with you. A gentle rustling of the fabric, you can't tell what he's doing until fingertips feather across the skin of your face to brush stray strands of hair from you.

He must have better night vision than you, and with even more of a shift of his body, you're met with the feeling of warm, minty breath on your face as he dips further into you for a kiss.

You meet him eagerly, maybe even too much so with teeth lightly sinking into his bottom lip and eliciting an ever so slight groan from him at the feeling. He's happy to meet your advances, however, mirroring the motion before parting lips and pressing his tongue into yours.

Barely creating space between you, he instead opts to speak directly into your waiting mouth. "This why you asked me here? Doesn't seem like you're trying to sleep."

You had been originally, but plans do change.

Rather than offering him a verbal reply, you slip a hand down and between your bodies to wrap fingers around his length — already attentive to the stimulation in part — and pumping him gently, you revel in the way his sighs into your mouth; choked and broken groans caught in a dry throat at the feeling of you palming him so deliciously like this.

You're thankful for your night vision finally coming to you, and allowing you to take in the sight of half-lidded, wanting eyes staring back at you.

"It's late," Doyoung whispers first, a lazy reasoning as to why you shouldn't be wanting to partake in such lewd activities currently. But rather than engaging in the banter with him, you bypass it entirely with the one thing that you know will make the man putty in your hands.

Firm, long strokes of his cock in your hand, you once again bite into his lip with a breathy moan against him. "Doie—" you all but whimper into his mouth. "—please."

You get little time between the moment the word drops from your lips and when you find yourself pressed back against the mattress with him hovering over you. A grin of victory splashing across your features as you feel him tug your panties down your legs and toss them aside without much of a care, just as quickly coming back up to bring his mouth to your own with a bit more hungry intent behind it than before.

Reaching down between both of your bodies to position himself to enter you, Doyoung drags fervent, hot kisses down your jaw and to your ear that bring the temperature of your body up just that much more. A once dull throb between your legs now impossible to ignore and full of want as he rub his cock up and down your slit to spread your wetness around before attempting to penetrate you.

"You drive me crazy."

As his hips press forward and his cock begin to sink into you — with a lack of foreplay you find a particularly pleasurable burn that come along with the resistance he's met with upon entering a body not quite made to be ready to take him. Jaw hung ajar at the feeling of him prying you open slowly with shallow, timely thrusts, you exhale heavily against his face as he once again meets you eye to eye.

Seated flush between your legs, he pauses for a moment to kiss you deeply — rocking into you with little withdrawal in a way that has his pubic bone continually bumping against your clit — you whine into his mouth as he drinks it down between dips of his tongue into you.

Cock nearly fully buried inside of you at all times like this, you feel impossibly full of him as he grinds against the apex of your thighs. One hand brought down and gripping firming into your waist as if to hold you perfectly in place to take him, he feels suffocating in a whole new way that you find you've never quite experienced before: in the absence of immense dirty talk and power play — sex with Doyoung be just as intense and enveloping, all the same. A man all too in tune to the needs of your body and mind.

"Feel good?" He finally whispers against your face. You think him to be well aware of the answer already, though.

"Feel so good, so good," you whimper in an airy, stifled tone. "You feel so big."

"And you take it all perfectly."

The words send your brain buzzing, the coiling of release beginning in your abdomen as a result of the relentless pace he has set against your clit — thinking of how far, how deep his cock is buried within you a dizzying thought as he continues to rock against you with just the right rhythm that can have you sent over the edge in no time.

"I want to feel you come around me, baby. Can you do that?" Doyoung asks in a whisper against your cheek as he trails pecks of his lips across your hot skin.

Teeth pulling at your bottom lip as you try to bite back the sounds that threaten to rip from your throat as your orgasm looms on the precipice.

Nails digging into the flesh of your waist as he attempts to drag you down harder against him for more friction, it's just enough while his lips and teeth simultaneously suck into the skin of your neck to decorate you with pretty marks to send you barreling over the edge. Doyoung feels it more than anything as a hedonistic groan drops unexpectedly from his mouth at the feeling of your walls gripping down on his cock still buried well within you as you come.

A chanting whisper against the heated skin of your neck, "Fuck, that's it, just like that."

Riding you out properly through your orgasm, it's only then that the man release his grip on you: opting now for long, fluid drives of his cock into you to bring him to his own end. It doesn't take long after the feeling of you all but milking him for everything that he's worth only moments before — once again burying deep inside of you with the twitch of his length to release warm, wet, ropes of cum deep inside of your now dripping heat.

Head coming back up from your neck to gaze into your fucked-out eyes, his vision dances over your features for just a moment — taking in the sight of you before once again greeting you with a deep, adoring kiss.

Wincing from the stimulation of having just come as he drags his softening cock from you, Doyoung flops to the side of you with a heavy exhale — a hand mischievously finding itself between your legs once again to play with the mixture of cum and other such wetness left behind in the aftermath of your unplanned rendezvous.

"So," he sighs out as the tip of his middle finger drags up and against your all too sensitive clit. "Those spreadsheets, huh?"

How cruel the world is — the most exquisite cock being attached to the most insufferable man you could ever know.

As the last day at the residence finally comes around, you spend the days just prior expecting it to be bittersweet, in ways. Naturally, you're thankful for Mina's return as well as yourself reentering a life of normalcy compared to the rollercoaster of a getaway as you've spent the last few weeks — rather, you're none bitter and all sweet for all of those aforementioned reasons.

Of course, your relationship with Doyoung has reasonably shifted. A man that once only served as a mark of unappreciated and relatively unwelcomed contention, now having morphed into one of your most trusted and perhaps even in ways, adored, people in your life.

You contribute it mostly to the little things. The ins and outs of living an everyday life alongside the man — allowing to view him in a new way, and maybe even the way that Mina does — that casts him in a brand new light. Hardworking, thoughtful, and above all else: trustworthy.

Putting your care and well-being: emotionally, mentally, physically — in his hands, and not only coming out on the other end just as well as you had gone into it, but in ways, even better.

But don't tell him that, it'll go to his head.

On the last evening and after that aforementioned six course meal that you had never actually expected to come to fruition, as you find yourself comfortably seated on the loveseat in front of the television and just next to the warmth of a crackling fireplace, you gaze over the back of the cushioning: watching the man with rolled up long sleeves as he pop a last bottle of some expensive wine he got from who-knows-where as a sort of parting gift only shared between the two of you.

Two glasses in hand, Doyoung hands you one and you share a light tapping of rims before taking your first sips as he sits down next to you.

"Excited to get back home?"

Mulling over the question momentarily, you hum into the edge of the glass before taking another, small sip and setting it onto the table just in front of you.

"Yeah, I feel like I've been on vacation too long being here, it feels weird."

Chuckling, he matches your action before leaning his head against the couch to look at you. "You've been working this entire time, hardly a vacation."

"That's true."

"Imagine my surprise finding out that you do have a job that isn't simply being friends with my wife!"

Tossing your head back as if in utter disbelief that he really be bringing this joke back, you whine out your response to him. "Are you really going to do this again?"

"Have to keep things interesting still," he starts with a sly grin, reaching for your arm and lightly taking it into his hand by the wrist. "If I'm too nice to you, you won't want me viscerally anymore."

The physical touch serving as a motion to have to closer to him, you follow his lead — pushing yourself across the furniture and pressed up against him with your side. Playing mad, you choose to ignore the way his fingers feel against your skin, but harder than that: ignoring his breath against your ear as his face dips down and closer to yours.

More than aware of his ability to feel your skin raising beneath his touch, you instead make an attempt to bring attention away from it.

What's the harm in a little hard to get fun on the last night, anyway?

That is, if you can hold out long enough to make it such.

"Am I supposed to still want you after this is all over?" You ask firmly, as if none too affected by the proximity of his body to your own. "Like knowing that your wife’s best friend desires you sexually or something?"

"Sure," he admits without missing a beat. "Doesn't everyone like feeling desired?"

You opt out of responding, but your lack of one does not offer the reprieve you had hoped as he continue on with the thought.

"The taboo nature of the husband and the wife’s best friend—" he whispers into you, hand on your wrist now long since abandoning its position and moving across to your thigh.

Yes, you had worn a skirt on purpose knowing the plans for the evening. Plans to only play hard to get, after all. Not actually make it all that difficult to acquire.

"—Plus, you already admitted you still thought about it long after the first arrangement ended. Am I supposed to believe you just needed a month to get it out of your system and thus you've now grown tired of me?"

"I could go off it just fine," You continue the ruse, tone pointed and unaffected as his fingertips feather up and under the hem of the garment laid across your legs.

As the tip of his middle finger edges just up against the front of your panties, you delicately attempt to squeeze your thighs shut, only for the man to take notice and disallow it immediately.

"Spread your legs."

Of course, you do as you're told. Not yet relinquished from the grip that he has on you.

The problem lie in how electric his touch is — knowing just the right way of engaging with you physically, pressing all of the correct proverbial buttons that time and time again has to coming undone for him as quickly or as slowly as he would like, depending on the circumstances — with his hand curling into your underwear and a single digit pressing against your slit, you can just about feel the way his lips turn upward at your compliance for him even now. Until the very end.

"Is that so?" Doyoung finally says in acknowledgment of your obvious lie. Eyes thin and intent on you as you try your best to not make your want for him so damn obvious. "Well, you're going to have to, after all. I can't help but wonder, though—"

Pausing the thought as he gently penetrates you with a single finger and you subsequently melting in his grasp at the feeling of it — you know you've lost, but suppose even in that there is victory.

"—Who's going to make you come the way I do? Who's going to have you a whimpering, begging mess for them the way that I do? Who will you be able to relinquish all power and control to the way you do with me?"

You know that he's using it as dirty talk in the present moment, but you'd be lying if you said you hadn't been asking yourself the very same questions these last few evenings spent at the marital home.

Who is going to replace Doyoung in your life?

"We'll have to find you someone nice to play with," he begins again, pulling from inside of you and turning his attention to your clit with the very same finger, instead. "Well, not too nice."

'We.'

The idea that Doyoung will be by your side, aiding you in finding and vetting any future play partners because not only is his safety important to him, but your enjoyment, as well. The idea that although it brings him great pleasure to be that sole person in your life capable of bringing you to that level of sexuality, that he knows your arrangement unsustainable long term, and him not wanting you to miss out on it just because of his unavailability.

Guess you really do have to hand it to your bestie, she really landed a keeper.

As the first, small, whimper drops from your lips, the familiar feeling of Doyoung smiling against you returns again as he meets it with praise, as always. "There she is," he says, as if having been working to summon the version of you that lie dormant and waiting to fall apart for him as he see fit.

"Come here," he whispers against your ear, low and up to no good, you're sure. "Why don't you come sit on it?"

So much for playing hard to get, the promise of being full to the brim with him one last time all too enticing to play games with, Doyoung pulls his hand away quickly to shove his pants down his legs and out of the way as you bring yourself to a knelt position atop the cushions. Turning to face him, it's a sight that you think may never get old, and that you'll likely have carried with you forever should you be able to maintain it: Doyoung's slanted lean against the back of the couch in wait for you to straddle him — long, beautiful cock in hand as he lazily strokes himself in preparation to penetrate you, and eyes gazing straight up and into your own — always granting you his full and undivided attention.

Wobbling slightly as you position yourself over his thighs and gently bear down against him, the man angling his length just right for you to impale yourself upon him, as you begin your descent and enjoy the barely-there string of his stretch, Doyoung brings his other hand up to your face to pull you down and close to his own — lips just lightly meeting — as he speaks in hushed, hidden, words.

"Sit on it before my wife gets home, yeah?"

It's something that the two of you had ballparked playing with the entire time: the infidelity that not be taking place, but rather, the illusion of it. Roleplaying.

Vaguely dabbled in at the end of your first arrangement, you suppose it only fitting to close off this one, as well.

Sinking down on him slowly, you whine into his mouth at the words. Kissing you delicately at first — more teeth and tongue added to the mix with every inch of him you bury inside of your heat — as you comfortably settle down and into his lap in full, the both of you let out an exhale that neither had been aware of your holding as your eyes meet once again before resuming any movement.

"Good?"

You nod.

Lips grazing down your chin and jaw as he sucks gently into the skin just below, Doyoung barely presses his hips upwards and against you, only enough to pull a threatened hiss from your mouth at the feeling of him almost too deep inside of you.

"Gonna have to be quiet," he whispers into your skin at the reaction of feeling him. "We don't want the missus to hear, now do we?"

"God, you feel so big right now," you say, unable to help breaking character in the moment at how impossibly full you feel. The commentary pulls a breathy laugh from the man beneath you and a small shake of his head in reaction.

"I'm trying to do something new and you just want to default back to that old shit, huh?" He jokingly chastises, hands snaking around to grasp onto your hips as a silent beckoning to begin moving. "Yeah, I get it, it's big, can we move on!"

With the both of you laughing now, the mood feels a tad bit lost — perhaps the initial one, but not the whole mood entirely. Instead, it feels perfect an ending for such a long, sexually-charged, exploratory month — full of growth and understanding and...maybe even some love there, yeah.

Maybe it's not impossible that there be space in your heart for love for him, given everything. Not romantic, or platonic, or familial — but somewhere in between. All of them and none of them simultaneously.

"Fine, geez, never met a man so upset about hearing how big his dick is," You respond with playful annoyance, finally grinding your hips down and against him to garner just that right amount of friction from inside of you that has you both groaning out in tandem at the feeling.

Bringing one hand up from your lower body and making quick work of your blouse, Doyoung palming the mound of flesh that sit eye level with him as you ride him steadily — leaning forward, he wastes no time circling one of the sensitive buds with his warm, wet tongue before fully clasping around it with his mouth and continuing the motion as you fuck him from what might typically be considered for the majority of your engagements: switched positions.

Groaning into your flesh as you find the perfect rhythm for yourself — fingertips digging into the flesh of your hip as he desperately attempts to fuck up into you and match your movements, as he pulls his mouth away from you and you both make eye contact, you realize that perhaps for once you're not the one at the mercy of the other this time, and rather, it's him.

Whining out with eyes clenched shut and dropping his back down against the sofa again, it's a simple "fuck" that escapes him, and nothing else.

But you're pretty sure you know what that means, and for once, you're not even close.

"Already?" You ask, somewhat curious, but somewhat with intent to be a little bit annoying, as well. It works just as expected, eyes flashing open and at you with the most despondent expression you could have imagined.

"Don't be like that, God."

With his jaw clenched so tight you can nearly hear the sound of his teeth gritting, you bear your weight down onto him harder — taking his cock as deeply as you can before switching to full, lengthy, bounces of your hips atop him. The switch immediately has the man beneath you moaning, and with a little bit too much proverbial pep to your step, you lean down to close to distance between your mouth and his ear just as quickly as the thought comes to you.

It's not a whisper, you don't bother making it such: really, who is going to hear?

"Gonna have to be quiet, don't want the missus to hear, do we?"

"Hear what?"

The sound of a third voice feeling a bit like how time feels the seconds before a car crash happens — the sounds of tires screeching before the crunching and clanging of mangled metal — you can't even help the shriek that resounds from you as your eyes immediately pull up at glance over at the entrance to the kitchen from the doorway hall.

Throwing yourself off of Doyoung in a fit of humiliation of also due in part to feeling as though you've been caught fucking your best friends husband (for good reason, you suppose), the man only flings his arm up and over the back end to grant himself enough leverage to turn himself to look at the sight you've only just laid eyes on.

"Saved by the bell, welcome home, honey."

"You guys are so fucking weird!"

The screech coming from you, obviously. Pulling your clothing back into place hurriedly as Doyoung does the same in a much more lackadaisical fashion, you hiss towards him as if still trying to avoid allowing the missus to hear the both of your goings on. "Did you know she was coming home tonight!?"

"No," he chuckles. "But thank God she did, huh? Things were getting a little out of hand!"

With a light tap of your ass, Doyoung stands to his feet to go greet Mina — bags still in hand as she stand with a wide, adoring grin splashed across her face.

"Have fun while I was away, darling?" She asks knowing all too well the answer. Of course, Doyoung happy to play along. "She's incorrigible, my love. Not a moment spent free from her evil clutches."

"I'm sure," Mina replies, kissing him lovingly as he walks past her and into the kitchen, all the while feigning his dismay.

"Are you going to come say 'hi'?"

"Ideally if I wait here long enough I will simply melt into the couch cushion and cease to exist."

Mina rolls her eyes at the dramatics displayed by you. "You do know I already knew you were here fucking my husband all month, right? Like, it was my idea and everything?"

Sighing, you flop around on the sofa like a child throwing an uncontrollable fit. "I know! But it still feels so weird that you...saw it! Why do I feel weird and you don't?"

"Because standardized monogamy and societal assumptions and traditional versus non-traditional relationship models; I don't think you actually want me to explain to you why but — it's fine. I caught an earlier flight in, I kinda knew there was a chance I might catch you guys. I had texted him but you know how he is with his phone."

Silence. Mina sighs.

"Can you say something? Please don't melt into that loveseat it was almost ten thousand dollars."

That being the thing that has you jumping up and off of the furniture in shock and horror, you finally look up at your best friend from across the room — taking in the sight of her gentle and loving smile and in that moment, you accept this snapshot in time for everything that it is, just the same as all of the previous ones this month.

A reminder to take people at their word. To believe what they tell you if there is love between you. To have the bravery and respect to trust someone when even in the shroud of doubt — they tell you that it's okay.

And so, you run your palms over your blouse and skirt in a rushed attempt to clean yourself up ever so slightly, and with one footstep towards the woman that you've held dearest to you for so many years, you swallow down all of the nasty feelings that no one but you and the heavy weight of unrelated parties expectations cast upon you: because after all — that has nothing to do with the three of you, right here, and right now.

"Welcome home, Mina."

♡ send me your thoughts and feelings in my ask.

—this is part 2. part one [here].

#doyoung smut #doyoung x you #doyoung x reader #doyoung x y/n #doyoung imagines #doyoung scenarios #doyoung fanfic #nct smut #nct x reader #nct x y/n #nct x you #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct fanfic

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