#hanging out with him all evening including all the sex is not being clean. lol | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mypoisonedvine · 2 years ago

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𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝘃𝗲 𝗴𝗼𝘁 𝗺𝗲 | tom (make up) x reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | you and tom have been two peas in a pod for your entire lives: tommy and birdie, partners in crime. you only fell in love with him a few years ago, though. maybe he'll notice sometime before you die of old age... but probably not.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 | 15.8k (oops)

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | smut (18+ only, dry humping, handjob, unprotected sex/loss of virginity, fingering, oral f receiving), alcohol consumption and tobacco use, best friends to lovers, angst, pining, fluff, tom and reader lacking braincells, extreme cornish, protectiveness/jealousy, There Was Only One Bed, I can't stress enough how fucking stupid these two are, truly no braincells detected in this entire fic

(title's after the song by the greeting committee <3 will always be the song that makes me think of tom the most)

YOU DON'T NEED TO SEE THE MOVIE TO READ THIS! plot of the film is totally discarded lmaooo

author's note part 2: there's a moment where the reader mentions that sometimes people think her and tom are siblings, she does not necessarily mean that they look alike! she means that they ACT like siblings and could be related through adoption or marriage-- her appearance isn't described and it's left open-ended for anyone to insert themselves ❤️

before we get started, I'm including a convenient cornish dictionary for you all to use if you're not already familiar with the dialect! other terms might pop up but they'll be explained in the text

teazy - acting grumpy or throwing a tantrum; something you might say to a kid having a fit or an adult who is being childishly negative

tuss - insult referencing male genitals; similar to 'knob' or 'dick' in UK and US english

my 'ansum - common, platonic greeting for men ("my handsome")

my bird - common, platonic greeting for women

rich - lovely, endearing, or beautiful

diddy? - a phrase used to mean 'is that true?' or 'really?'; diddah? and issuh? mean the same thing

wasson? - a greeting; short for "what's going on?"

jumping - very angry

hanging - terrible, gross

scat - (NOT WHAT YOU'RE THINKING lol) to push or fight someone

geek - a quick look; you can 'take a geek' at something

“Leave off, m'fine." Tom crinkled up his nose as he tried to brush your hands away, but you fought to keep dabbing the cuts on his face with the washcloth.

"Fine? You look like you lost a fight," you frowned.

"Well, we won the match, so," he smiled, but winced when you went back to the cut just above his eyebrow. “Fuck off, that hurts!”

“Couldn’t hurt as much as it did when you got it,” you insisted. “C’mon, it’ll scar if you don’t let me clean it up right.”

“So? I thought the lasses liked scars,” he grinned. “Makes me look tough.”

“Makes you look like you got your arse handed to you.”

Tom really wasn’t built for rugby. Though he certainly wasn’t in bad shape, he was the slimmest of all the guys he played with; he was fast, he had that going for him, but the poor kid got pummelled every time he played.

“Wish you wouldn’t go out there,” you mumbled, one of those rare times that you admitted how much you hated seeing him get hurt.

“Wish you wouldn’t worry about me when I can take care’a meself,” he replied.

And that was how it had always been— Tom was just reckless like that, and you had to try to reign him in as best you could. You could remember so many nights spent this way, you trying to scold him enough that he might be a little more careful; but considering you’d been doing this since you were just little kids, you eventually gave up on trying to stop him and just decided to be there when he needed a little comfort.

You might’ve always been Tom’s greatest comfort. So many things in life are uncertain, temporary, fleeting. Not you; you’d always been there, as long as he could remember— even longer, really. And not just because he had a shit memory from all those rugby concussions.

“Aren’t you worried you’ll look beat up in all our holiday photos?” you asked him, speaking quietly since you were so close to his face to treat his injuries.

“Why’d that bother me?” he shrugged. “You think I’m gonna be lookin’ at me own stupid mug in photos?”

“Don’t say that,” you shoved him on the shoulders as he laughed, leaning back into the couch. “You’ve got a nice mug, if you didn’t get it all mucked up.”

“You think m’pretty then?” he cooed sarcastically, putting his hand under his chin and batting his eyelashes; you giggled and shoved him harder, this time knocking you both back until he was laying on the couch and you were on top of him.

“Yeah, pretty daft,” you replied, and he snorted.

“Fuck off,” he rolled his eyes, wrapping his arms around your back.

“Lemme go, need to get a bandage for your face,” you explained as you squirmed.

“Nuh uh,” he denied your request, “not letting you up— sorry, birdie.”

“Tommy!” you whined through a laugh, struggling harder against him, but he just held you tighter and grinned down at you. Giving up, you made a pouty face and rested your chin on his chest. He mimicked your expression, mocking you until you frowned for real and gave up, turning your face again to lay your cheek down on his shirt.

He gave you a kiss on top of your head, and you let your eyes fall shut.

“Maybe just a little rest,” you decided, your voice already slurring— you were more tired than you thought.

“Mhm,” he agreed, brushing his fingers over your hair. “Just a little, huh?”

You nodded groggily.

“Alright— sleep tight, birdie…”

You were only tired because you’d been up way too late, packing for your trip to St. Ives with your and Tom’s families. Joint vacations were nothing new to the two of you— actually, his parents and yours had been taking trips together since before the two of you were born. There were pictures of you and Tommy, chubby little babies in your mums’ arms, riding on the London Eye; you’d watched a home video a few times where you were playing in the sand together at a beach in Valencia. You weren’t sure why they felt the need to fly all the way to Spain for beaches when there were plenty here in Cornwall… but, case in point, this trip was going to be a much more relaxed (and budget-conscious) one: a roadtrip across the county, a couple rooms at a beach-side inn, and some much needed time in the sun for the next week. Tom promised to teach you how to surf, though you weren’t sure you’d be able to figure it out anyways— but you looked forward to trying. Really, you looked forward to Tom’s hands on your waist as he tried to help you find your balance.

Truth be told, despite being secretly in love with him since you were fourteen, you never really expected anything to happen with Tommy. You were like brother and sister— even his parents treated you like a daughter, and vice versa— and you’d always been so close. There’s always that fear of confessing to someone you’re close with and ruining the friendship, but this was even worse than that. If you lost Tom, you’d lose everything.

So, it wasn’t sad— there wasn’t a lot of pining anymore, not many nights spent gushing into your diary about it and then crying yourself to sleep because he got a new girlfriend or something. It was peaceful now, the one-sidedness of it. You loved him, he didn’t notice, everything went on as usual and that was it. You kept dating other guys, though Tom never liked any of them, and he dated other girls that you pretended to get along with until they split after a couple weeks.

In fact, dating was the topic of the hour as you and Tom sat in the back of his dad’s suburban, trying to entertain yourselves on the long drive to the beach resort you’d be staying at.

“That girl Dani,” you remembered, focusing most of your attention on a sudoku from the book you’d brought for the trip. “She was fit— why’d you break up again?”

“Too clingy,” Tommy shrugged, not looking back at you; he was toying with the friendship bracelet around his wrist, the one you’d made for him at summer camp when you were eleven with blue and yellow and black chevrons. Since you gave it to him, you’d never seen him without it, which is why the colours were all faded and dirty now, and why you were glad you made it adjustable all those years ago… he certainly outgrew the original size by now.

“I thought that was Claire,” you recalled.

“Oh, her too,” he nodded.

“This seems to be a problem for you,” you noticed, “clingy girls. What does that even mean?”

“Means they get, like, possessive,” he clarified, holding his hands up almost like a motion of choking someone. “Wanna know what you’re doing all the time, want a text every half hour— it’s too much.”

“That just means they like you, Tommy,” you rolled your eyes. “You shouldn’t dump girls over that.”

“They usually dump me,” he corrected.

“What?!” you squeaked, before you cleared your throat when you noticed what your utter disbelief might imply.

“Guess they just get, I dunno, jealous?” he explained, crinkling his nose as he reached up to scratch the back of his neck.

“Jealous?” you repeated, looking away from the page in front of you for the first time. The way he was looking at you— head tilted to the side, one eyebrow raised and mouth in a small frown— you realised what he meant. “Of me?”

“Well, yeah,” he mumbled, “I mean, we spend so much time together.”

“But we’re just friends,” you noticed.

“That’s what I try to tell them!” he insisted. “I mean, I say that you’re my best mate and all but I don’t even think of you like that— c’mon, I’d never…”

You looked back at the half-solved sudoku, letting out a sigh that you hoped you could pull off as frustration with the number grid before you.

“Guess they don’t believe me,” he concluded, “or they don’t care.”

“They must think it’s bound to happen one day,” you posited. “That we’ll get together, I mean.”

“Yeah— but don’t you think if it was gonna happen, it would’ve happened already?” he pointed out.

You bit your lip. “Yeah,” you agreed curtly.

"Hey— whatever happened to that lad with the crooked teeth you liked so much?" Tommy asked.

"You'll have to be more specific," you huffed, keeping your eyes trained on your puzzle.

"He had specs and a freckle right on the end of his nose," Tommy continued.

"Oh yeah! Frank," you reminded him of the boy's name. "What, did you actually approve of him or something?"

"Course not," Tommy scoffed. "Jus' wondering, 'cause you used to go on about him all the time— 'bout how he was so wonderful and all." Tommy rolled his eyes, just to make sure it was perfectly clear that he didn't approve.

"Erm, well," you stalled, "yeah, haven't talked to him in a while."

Tommy wouldn't buy an excuse like that from you, he knew you far too well. Leaning in, he titled his head to try to get a view of your face. "Did something happen with him?" he pressed, and you swallowed.

"Yeah, I mean— nothing really," you shrugged, "he just got upset that I didn't wanna take things too fast, I guess. Called me a slag and threw my phone— didn't crack, though, got lucky there—"

"Diddy?" Tommy spat, his anger obvious on his face. He sat back up when you nodded, taking in a deep breath through his nose. "Shoulda told me, would've scat 'im down and beat his face in. Can't be talking to my birdie like that."

Your heart skipped a beat. His birdie.

"And throwin' your phone, too? Bleddy tuss," Tommy sneered, shaking his head as he looked out the window, like he was trying to calm himself down.

"Did anyone ever tell you that you get especially Cornish when you're angry?" you giggled.

"Only twice a day, birdie," Tom laughed.

Did anyone ever tell you that it turns me on?

“We’re here!” your mum announced, and you looked up to see that the car was turning in to a roundabout driveway. Tom excitedly leaned against his window, looking up at the hotel. “Wow,” he breathed. “Look!”

He guided you to lean in right up against him, pressing your cheek to the glass so you could see the tall building. It wasn’t a skyscraper or anything— this wasn’t that kind of place— but it was at least ten stories, with white bricks on the outside and seafoam-green shutters on each window.

With the car parked, Tom and the dads were going through the boot while his mom ran to use the loo and you and your mom checked in.

You weren’t really paying attention, honestly, while your mom gave the woman at the front desk a credit card for incidentals and all that. The interaction only piqued your interest when you heard her confirm— “three rooms, then?”

“Yep,” your mum agreed.

“Three?” you repeated, looking up at her.

“Yeah— your dad and I, Gary and Marie, and then another room for you and Tom.”

You cleared your room. “Tom and I get our own room?”

“You think us old geezers wanna be kept up all night by your giggling?” she snorted. “Figured you two could entertain yourselves just fine, give the grown-ups some space.”

Before you could decide how to react to that, the opening of the front doors got everyone’s attention. Tom looked ridiculous trying to carry as many bags as he could— all of yours, plus his and his mom’s— and you snorted as you watched him waddle into the lobby with all of them.

“What floor are we on?” he asked, the strain in his voice apparent and hilarious.

“Ten,” you informed him, and he groaned.

“Kidding! Three,” you chuckled, “and there’s a lift.”

“Aw, Jesus,” Tom grumbled as he walked past you, struggling under the weight of the bags. “You’re tryin’ to kill me, birdie.”

“I didn’t tell you to carry all those,” you rolled your eyes, looking at the concierge again as Tom turned the corner to find the lift.

“Is that your boyfriend?” she asked, continuing before you could answer. “You two are adorable.”

“O-oh, er— no, actually,” you stammered, “just a friend.”

“Oh!” she mumbled. “I see, my apologies.”

You looked down at your phone for just a second, only to hear your mom make a strange noise— a little giggle, and you saw her and the woman at the desk looking at each other. “What?” you asked your mum.

“Nothing, dear,” she dismissed.

“What?!” you hissed, groaning when she hid a cheeky smile but said nothing. “You’re so weird sometimes, mum…”

“Anyhoo,” the concierge mumbled, “you’re all ready to go! Three king bed rooms, third floor, ocean view—”

“Wait, wait,” you interrupted, “all the rooms have a king bed?” She nodded. “Just a king bed?”

“Well… there’s a couch,” she offered.

You deflated slightly. “That might be a little strange.”

“Oh,” she hummed, “well, I could change your room if you’d like. But they won’t be connected anymore…”

“That’s fine,” you shook your head.

“Okay, there’s a room with two twins across the hall,” she explained, reading from her computer screen.

Ugh, a twin was gonna be uncomfortable, but so would just one bed. “That’s fine, thank you.”

She clicked around on her keyboard for a bit, and right as she looked up at you again, Tom appeared from around the corner again. “All done,” she announced, “I’ve changed your room for you!”

“You what?” Tom choked.

“She’s just changed our room for us,” you explained to him.

“Ah god,” he panted, laying his head against the wall while he caught his breath. “Birdie, I just put all the bags away…”

You sighed, and the woman piped up again. “I could still change it back for you, if the bags are too much trouble.”

“Please,” Tom breathed, and she nodded and started up with the keyboard again. Rolling your eyes, you brushed past Tom flippantly.

“I’m gonna change,” you announced.

“Goin’ up to the room?” he asked.

“No, I was going to strip in the hallway and hope nobody walked through,” you replied snarkily.

“I was just gonna give you the key, birdie,” he smirked, pulling the plastic card out of his pocket. You chewed your lip, regretting being so rude.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, taking it from him and moving along to the lift.

You’d only brought one swimsuit, the new one you’d bought just for this. Maybe you’d had this crazy idea somewhere in the back of your mind that if you wore a tight little bikini, you’d finally get Tom’s attention and he’d stop seeing you just as the little girl he’d grown up with. If you’d been a little less emotional and a touch more logical, you would’ve checked the weather first.

Yes, it was a beach, but it was still an English beach… the sky was grey and cloudy, and without sunlight, the ocean breeze was less refreshing and more chilly. Very chilly, in fact, when you had hardly anything on like this. You were trying so hard to act natural, to lay there on that chair on the beach and look as gorgeous as possible for whenever Tom came out, but it was so cold… every few seconds you were tensing up your jaw to try to fight off a shiver.

He came down a couple minutes later, wearing his swim trunks, but since he was apparently smarter than you, he was also wearing a half-zip jumper and a t-shirt underneath. You pretended not to see him coming and laid still, only reacting to his presence with a polite wave when he was too close to ignore.

“Not gonna get much of a tan in this weather,” he noticed with a laugh as he sat next to you.

“I’m not tanning, I’m… relaxing,” you explained.

“Want me jumper, birdie?” he offered. “You look freezing.”

“I-I’m fine,” you insisted, but your teeth chattered. Next thing you knew, he was peeling it off over his head anyways— his shirt stuck to it and started to lift, too, exposing his stomach. He managed to get the jumper off, though, and pulled it down over your face as you laughed and resigned yourself to your fate. “Tommy, stop it,” you whined, batting his arms away so you could put the garment on yourself— he’d been trying to force it on you and accidentally trapped your face in one of the sleeves.

When you finally navigated your limbs through the borrowed sweater, popping your face out and breathing in a deep breath of fresh air after being stuck inside the cotton for a moment, you saw him looking at you… different. Just a little different, but different nonetheless. You wrinkled your eyebrows together at him, and he shook his head with a little laugh, and it was all back to normal again. “Should keep you warm,” he mumbled, turning back to the view of the ocean and bringing his feet up onto the chair.

“Thanks,” you nodded, watching him lift his hands up behind his head and sigh.

For a while, you two laid there in silence, the sound of the ocean waves and seabirds like a quiet, slow song. If you weren't thinking constantly about whether or not Tom was looking at you, you might've been able to relax enough to fall asleep. Apparently Tom wasn't all in his head because he dozed off within a couple minutes, and after that, you decided to get up and explore the beach a bit. There were little shops dotted here and there, a gelato stand, a cosy open-air pub playing music over their speakers.

You stopped to watch some boys playing volleyball on the beach, and one of them seemed to notice you staring— and he smiled at you, just before he served; you had to be careful not to make yourself look stupid by suddenly smiling down at the sand and toying with your hair, but you desperately wanted to. He was cute, and tall and, you know, shirtless. They all were, but he probably looked the best that way of any of them.

He ended the round with a spike right beside the net, and his side of the court cheered while the others groaned and complained to each other. You clapped for them, and the boy looked at you again; he said something to his friends, and with the ball still under his arm, he jogged over toward you.

"Hey," he greeted with a sideways, pearly-white smile.

"Hi," you returned.

"Did you like watching us play?" he asked, glancing back at the net for a second.

"Yeah, you're really good," you nodded. "Are you a real team or somethin'?"

"No, god no," he laughed, "we just play for fun. Not many sandy beaches to play at in London."

"Oh, you're visiting from London? What part?"

"Southeast," he replied.

You nodded. "Oh…"

There wasn't much you could say to that because you didn't know anything about London; he chuckled, apparently realising just that. "I guess you're from around here?"

"Sort of— an hour down the way but, yes, I'm from Cornwall," you agreed.

“You’ve got an interesting accent,” he noticed with a smirk. “It’s cute, actually.”

“Oh, y’think?” you smiled shyly. “Always heard growing up that a Cornish accent made me sound like a dumb farmer or somethin’.”

“It works on you, though,” he decided.

"Oi! Come back and serve!" one of the boys by the net called, and your new friend turned his head around.

"Go on without me," he told them, tossing the ball over. "I'm talking to, er…"

He looked back at you, and you stammered out your name; he repeated it back to you with a smile.

"I'm Devon," he told you.

"Well, hi, Devon," you smiled.

Aaaaand, just in time, you heard Tom’s voice calling after you: “Birdie!” he shouted from down the beach, and you turned and sighed as you waved back.

In a moment, Tom was beside you, slipping his arm around your shoulders.

"Where'd you run off to, my lover?" Tommy asked with a tilted smile, but he didn't give you a chance to answer before he looked over at the other young man and back at you. "Who's the emmet?"

"My name's Devon, not Emmett," the Londoner corrected, and you hoped your polite laugh would break the tension.

"No, Devon, 'emmet' is Cornish," you explained. "It's what we call tourists."

Except, ‘incomer’ is what you call tourists. Emmet is what you call annoying tourists. And you knew Tom was annoyed by him because he was hitting on you.

"This your girl, then?" Devon asked Tom… a little straightforward, but that's just how Londoners are, maybe?

"What's it to you?" Tom wondered.

"Er—" you interjected immediately, "no, actually, Tom's just a friend," you coughed, knowing that even though it was a way to greet a good friend around here, Tom surely intended for it to be misinterpreted.

"Bloody hell. Can't tell what you people are saying," Devon grumbled, and you spoke up before Tom surely asked what 'you people' was supposed to mean.

"Anyways, point is— Tom and I are good friends, known each other since we were kids," you continued.

"Really?" Devon pressed.

“Yep," Tom replied with a beaming smile, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer to him, "she’s been me best mate since we were wee babes,” he beamed.

“A bird’s your best mate?” Devon scoffed. “Sure you’re not bent?”

“I’m bent? You’re the one spendin’ all your time with a bunch of blokes with no shirts on, mate,” Tom defended.

Devon stepped forward and you had to jut yourself in between them to keep it from getting too heated. “Okay, lads, let’s settle down, then—”

“Be careful,” Tom warned Devon, and you jabbed him with your elbow as punishment.

“I said to stop it, alright?” you hissed at Tom. “Doesn’t matter, Tommy.”

“Yeah, Tommy,” Devon snickered, and you literally had to lean all your weight onto Tommy to keep him from trying to dive right over you to pummell the bellend.

"Let's go," you informed Tommy as you scoffed at Devon. Wrapping a hand around Tom's waist, you guided him to walk with you back down the beach, away from the possibility of a fight.

Tommy could find a fight anywhere— even on the beach on holiday. It was a real talent of his.

"You're horrible!" you whined as you punched Tom on his side.

"What did I do now?" he groaned.

"You scared that boy off, he was cute and he was flirting with me."

"Exactly!" Tommy emphasised, and you rolled your eyes. "He turned out to be a wanker, anyhow, you heard him making fun of our accent, didn't you?"

"I think he was just making fun of your accent," you frowned.

"We've got the same one," Tom noticed.

"Well— just stop doing that! You always do that."

"Sorry, birdie,” he shrugged, not seeming especially sorry.

You sighed and decided to let it go, because it wasn’t worth the argument. “What’s next, then? Think I’ve had enough of the beach.”

“Pub?” he suggested, and you laughed.

“Hardly late enough for that, don’t you think?” you snorted.

“Okay, dinner first, then pub,” he offered instead.

“That’s better.”

There were a few pubs along your walk back from dinner, but only one that had the rugby match on; so, of course, that was the one Tom picked. It was almost entirely empty when you came inside, and since the match had gone to commercial break, Tom decided now was the best time to run to the loo.

“Order me something?” he requested. “Whatever you’re getting.”

You nodded and he dashed off down a hallway. Sitting at the bar, currently unattended with no other patrons but yourself, you looked up at the telly on the wall and caught a couple seconds of a car commercial.

“Can I get you anything?”

The voice made you turn your head away from the telly, and you were surprised to find a boy your age on the other side of the bar.

“Oh, erm,” you choked, “just something on tap? M’not picky.”

“There’s a stout we brew right here in the neighbourhood,” he suggested, “you might like it.”

“Sure,” you shrugged, “and one for my friend.”

“Great,” he smiled, bending down below the bar and reappearing with two pint glasses in hand. You watched him as he tilted the glasses and filled them from the tape, admiring his tan skin and longer hair— he had that surfer look about him, in a Cornwall sort of way.

“Aren’t you a little young to be tending bar?” you noticed.

He laughed, revealing some dimples in the process. “And you’re one to talk?” he shot back.

“I’m old enough to be served, aren’t I?” you challenged.

“Well actually, I was gonna ask for your ID,” he admitted, “but, you’re cute, so I decided to let it slide.”

You looked down as he set your drink on the bar for you. “Thanks,” you hummed. You tried it, giving him a nod of approval when the taste hit your tongue— it was pretty mild, and sort of grapefruit-y somehow.

“In town for holiday?” he assumed.

“Yeah,” you nodded, and he clicked his tongue.

“Too bad,” he shook his head. “When are you going back home?”

“Thursday.”

“And where’s home?” he asked. “You sound local.”

“Yeah, I am,” you agreed, “about an hour north.”

“Liskeard?” he guessed, and you shook your head. “Launceston?”

“Closer,” you smiled.

“Bradworthy?”

“Oh, too far…”

“Holsworthy,” he grinned.

“Got it,” you nodded.

“Seems like it’d be easier to just drive up to Westward Ho! wouldn’t it?” he tilted his head.

“I try not to go anywhere that has an exclamation mark in the name,” you explained, and he chuckled a little.

“I guess that’s fair,” he shrugged, “and it’s a good thing you came here anyways.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because now I get to look at you,” he cooed.

You took a sip of the beer to hide your warming face. When you brought the glass back down, he laughed at you softly.

“Got some foam on your nose, my bird,” he warned you, reaching forward to wipe it off with his thumb.

“Oh, th-thanks,” you stammered, watching him put his thumb to his mouth and suck that bit of foam off while he kept looking at you. What a flirt! Do it again.

Tom came back from the washroom and sat on the stool next to yours, thanking you for ordering his beer for him before he took a large drink of it.

"O-oh," the bartender choked, and you knew that look— the ‘shit, you've got a boyfriend’ look.

You sighed. "Hey, um— this is my friend, Tom," you explained.

"Wasson?" Tom greeted him, nodding his head quickly in acknowledgement.

"Not much, mate," he replied, "Cade.”

“Tom,” he answered back as if he didn’t already know that, not going so far as to shake hands since Tom was holding his glass and Cade was holding a rag to wipe down the bar.

“She was just telling me you're only here for a spell,” Cade recalled, “which is a proper shame.”

You smiled shyly. “Oh, yeah, well, I wish our holiday could be longer, too.”

“Always the prettiest maids just here on holiday,” Cade nodded, looking at Tom. “You know how it is, don’t you? You’re from a holiday town, too, I heard.”

Not quite as popular as your current location, but yes, vacationers would occasionally appear in town. You’d never noticed this ‘girls visiting from up-country are prettier’ principle, but your eyes turned to Tom expectantly. “Uh, yeah,” Tommy nodded. “Yeah, I know how it is. And half of them have boyfriends back home.”

It made your heart sink a bit— what you would give to have one of those. Or to have Tommy say no, the prettiest bird’s right here with me now. Or both.

“But that doesn’t stop all of them,” he added with a laugh, and you rolled your eyes.

“You’re awful, Tommy,” you shoved him lightly.

“Yeah,” he agreed, licking his bottom lip.

Cade gestured at Tom’s rugby union shirt— “You play?” he asked.

“Yeah, sometimes,” Tom nodded, “you?”

“I just watch,” he shrugged, pointing at the telly in the corner. “Cooped up in this pub all the time, anyway.”

“That’s no excuse,” Tom chided, “gotta get out there and get roughed up!”

“That’s what surfing’s for,” Cade smirked.

“Okay, now I’m definitely not going,” you shook your head. “I don’t wanna get roughed up by the ocean!”

“I said I would teach her,” Tom informed Cade, “now look what you’ve done.”

“Sorry,” Cade laughed, “you’ll be fine, and you’ve come at just the right time of year for it.”

“That’s what I said!” Tom agreed.

Oh god, were they actually getting on alright? Would Tom give his approval, finally?

You sipped your stout and let them go on about rugby and football teams for a while, letting yourself get your hopes up that Tom would actually like a guy who liked you— and sure, he was a barkeep in your holiday spot, not exactly the foundation for a serious relationship, but it would be nice to have a little fling without worrying that Tom would end up beating him up.

Tom was the one who made fun of you sometimes for being a virgin, anyway. He never meant it— actually, when he occasionally took the time to be serious, he assured you better than anyone else that it was perfectly normal and fine to still be one. But still, you weren’t exactly trying to hang onto it much longer. Tom told you to wait for the right person; but you’d been waiting for him for way too long.

Watching the match together, you and Tom put down a few pints and laughed at some stupid old inside jokes— Cade tended to stick around, chatting with you both, when there weren’t other customers to serve. You caught him glancing at you a few times, and you liked how you felt when he looked at you like that— desirable, maybe even grown up. You and Tom had been friends since you were little, after all, and since he treated you the exact same way he always had, sometimes you still felt little around him. But you weren’t. It was good to remember that.

The match ended— Cornwall won, thank god, or you’d be babying Tom all night after he drowned his sorrows in something stronger than the local stout. He still drank a little too much to celebrate, but less too much.

Enough that he had to go to the loo again, though, at which point Cade was suddenly right by you again. “Your friend’s funny,” he smiled.

“Yeah,” you agreed, “he’s not always that loud, but, yeah, he’s never been very subtle.”

“And he’s just a friend?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes,” you insisted, and you focused your tone on your annoyance and not your disappointment.

“Just checking!” Cade returned defensively. “How long have you known him?”

“My whole life,” you sighed. “Can’t remember a time without him. He’s just… always been there.”

Cade nodded. “That’s nice, wish I had a friend like that. People come and go a lot in a place like this.”

“I bet,” you offered sympathetically. “And your girlfriend? Does she come and go, or stick around?”

“What? I don’t have a girlfriend,” he frowned.

“Just checking,” you winked.

“Why, you think I should get one?” he raised an eyebrow.

You shrugged. “If you can find one…”

His eyes dragged over you, his smile fading slightly; you pretended not to be totally overwhelmed by it all.

“Cade!” a voice shouted from the back, and an older woman poked her head out of the kitchen as Cade turned his head. “Come back here an’ clean up!”

“I will, mum!” he called back, before returning his attention to you. “Listen, I’d better get back to work— but you could come by tomorrow? If you wanted.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I think I’ll find the time.”

“Tom can come too, of course,” he added, leaning closer to you on the bar, “but… I’d rather have some time alone with you, if that’s alright.”

Reaching up to scratch your shoulder, you bit your lip to hide a smile. “Okay, yeah—” you set your hands back down on the bar when you saw the way he was looking at you, “yeah, I’d like that, too. I’m sure Tommy can find some way to entertain himself for an hour.”

Cade’s hand landed on yours suddenly, giving it a quick squeeze while he winked at you. And then he threw the rag over his shoulder and disappeared into the back. You pursed your lips and exhaled through them; it had been a while since you had butterflies like that.

Tom came back around the corner, leaning beside you on the wooden bar, and you giggled when you saw how red his nose had gotten from the booze. “Tommy, you look like you’ve stuck your face in blusher,” you noticed.

“Aw, really?” he scrunched up his nose, wiping it with his hand.

“You can’t wipe it off!” you laughed harder. “Cade’s gone to the back to work— wanna go on a walk, take a geek at the rest of the neighbourhood?”

“Sure,” he agreed, letting you take his hand and pull him along with you out the door and around the pavement. You walked in silence for a few moments, glancing at him once, before you just had to bring it up.

“So, Cade was nice…” you trailed off. You looked at Tom expectantly, wearing a hopeful smile, but you hadn't even said anything yet before he expressed his dissent.

“No, no way,” he shook his head, ignoring your protests, “not good enough for you.”

“What? Tommy, what’s wrong with him?”

“What’s wrong with him?” Tom repeated. “Birdie, what’s right with him?”

“I thought you liked him!” you whined. “He was so nice to you, and you talked rugby for ages!”

“Was looking at you funny,” he shuddered.

“Well, I’d hope so,” you rolled your eyes, “doesn’t that mean he’s interested?”

“That’s what you want, creepy guys drooling all over you?” Tom snorted. “Come on, let’s go— I don’t want you seeing that sod again.”

You groaned, but let him drape his arm over your shoulders and guide you away. “You shouldn’t be so protective, Tom… this is why everyone thinks you’re either my brother or my boyfriend.”

“If it keeps the boys away from you, I don’t care what they think,” he decided. You rolled your eyes as he pulled your head down with his arm, enough that he could plant a kiss on top of your head. “There, now they’ll think I’m your boyfriend, how about that?”

“You kiss me all the time,” you laughed.

“Eh?”

“On the head,” you clarified. “You give me kisses on the head, doesn’t make you my boyfriend.”

“Guess not,” he agreed.

Halfway along your walk, you passed a park which Tom decided would be the perfect place to share a cigarette— actually, he was just going to smoke it himself, but you made him share.

“Remember your sixth birthday party?” he asked, seemingly out of nowhere, after a drag. “You tripped and sprained your ankle running in the backyard that day, but you stopped crying when we gave you your presents.”

You laughed at the memory. “God, I barely remember— but yeah.”

He handed the cigarette to you and you rested it between your lips. “Do you remember what I got you?” he continued.

“A Barbie,” you recalled, “wasn’t it? She was some little princess or something, can’t remember now.”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Well, I want you to know that before I gave her to you, I took her out of the box and took her clothes off.”

“What?!” you snorted, making a cloud of smoke

“I had to know!” he laughed. “I put them back on and put her back in the box and everything first before I gave her to you.”

“Yeah, I think I would remember getting a naked Barbie, Tom,” you scoffed, and he carefully plucked the cigarette from your fingers and took it back.

“Right, well—” he stopped to inhale, and then let it out as he continued— “she had plastic panties on anyway. Wasn’t worth it,” he shook his head.

You dropped your forehead into your palm. “The fuck are you talking about?” you giggled.

“Just that time of night where you feel like confessing things, I guess,” he shrugged.

“Any other secrets you’ve been keeping from me?” you pressed. “Any other childhood toys of mine that you violated?”

“Took a geek up the skirt of a Cabbage Patch Kid or two,” he added, “but that’s about it.”

“Well, we all did that,” you rolled your eyes, and he grinned at you.

“Oh, I knew it,” he purred, “I think you were just as much of a pervert as I was.”

“Yeah? But you’re still a pervert,” you accused.

“Maybe,” he relented, “but at least I’m not a prude.”

You looked away quickly. “M’not a prude, Tommy…”

“I know, I know,” he soothed, handing you the last quarter of the cigarette, “you’re just picky. And you should be.”

He suddenly laid his head down on your lap, making you tense up a little bit and wonder where you were supposed to put your hands.

“Nobody deserves you anyway,” he mumbled, closing his eyes as he adjusted himself to get comfortable on the bench.

“Well, that doesn’t really solve my problem, does it?” you said, speaking a little quieter.

“What’s the problem?” he wondered sleepily.

You sighed, holding the cigarette in your mouth as you reached down and carded your fingers through his hair. He hummed and smiled a little. “Nothing,” you dismissed, and he started to breathe slower and slower.

You finished the cigarette over the course of the next however-long-it-had-been, absent-mindedly touching his head and playing with his hair, and only noticed that Tom had dozed off when you felt a wet patch under his mouth on your legs.

“Eww, Tommy!” you whined, shoving him off of you as he tried to wake up. “When I said I wanted guys to drool over me, this is not what I meant.”

“Sorry, love,” he laughed, wiping the side of his mouth with the back of his hand. “Think that’s our cue to go back to the room and go to bed, eh?”

He didn’t say anything before he got in the shower, so you didn’t know what to expect when he got out: was he going to suddenly realise there was only one bed? Had he already and just didn’t care? Were you supposed to protest, or act like it was no big deal, or what?

When he emerged from the steamy bathroom in his pyjamas— aka, just his fuzzy plaid trousers, the ever-present friendship bracelet, and the chain on his neck— he found you standing in the middle of the room, staring at the singular bed, and gave you a confused look.

“I guess you saw when you brought our bags up,” you mumbled nervously.

“Eh?”

“The bed.” You motioned towards it, and he wrinkled his eyebrows together.

“What about it?” he shrugged.

“There’s only one of it!”

“Oh,” he nodded, “yeah, guess so.”

“So, we’ll have to share,” you helped him reach the obvious conclusion.

“Oh,” he said again, “you think it’ll be weird?”

“I mean, I figure,” you shrugged.

“I’ll take the couch,” he insisted.

“No, Tommy, let me,” you pleaded.

“You jokin’? I’m supposed to let a maid sleep on the couch?”

“Didn’t realise you were such a gentleman,” you frowned, crossing your arms.

“Aren’t I?” he smirked.

You felt bad about it, but he was already putting a spare sheet down on the sofa while you were getting through your nighttime routine. Leaning out of the bathroom, toothbrush sticking out of your mouth, you caught a glimpse of him laying there on the couch with one arm up behind his head and the other holding the book he’d been reading as of late— one of those fantasy novels that were much too violent for you. He looked past the top of it to smile at you, and you popped back in to wrap up.

You were just wearing a baggy old t-shirt that was just long enough on you to cover your red panties, which you felt mostly not-weird about wearing around Tom, though walking past him to get to bed made you shiver a little bit.

“G’night,” he offered.

“You too,” you replied quietly, and he reached up above his head to switch off the lamp.

Sure, it was you who had worried about the whole bed-sharing thing in the first place, but that was only because you were pre-emptively worrying that he would worry about it. It was sort of a lose-lose: if he was against it, then you’d feel dejected, but if he was fine with it, it was another way for him to rub it in that you could hold him but never have him.

Still, now that you were alone in this big old bed, you couldn’t help but think that at least it was nice you could hold him… but he was all the way over there.

You chewed your lip, trying to stay quiet. You made it about thirty seconds. “Tommy?”

“Yeah?”

“Think you’ll fall asleep alright on that?” you wondered.

“Should be asleep in a couple minutes, once you’re quiet,” he replied.

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” you mumbled. You made it a whole minute before you spoke again. “Tommyyyyy,” you whined.

“What!” he snapped.

“I can’t sleep, I feel too bad!” you pouted. “Just get in the bed? We fall asleep together all the time! What’s the difference?”

“Difference is it’s all night,” he explained, “haven’t done that since we were eight— and you kicked me in your sleep!”

“Are you seriously going to sleep on that musty old sofa, and leave me alone here in the king bed, just because you’re still mad at me for kicking you?”

“Not just that,” he mumbled, “you snore, too.”

“Shut up,” you groaned, “just come over, won’t you? I’m cold anyways…”

He paused as he considered it. “There’s room for me?”

“Tons,” you promised.

You heard him throw the blanket off of himself, and you smiled instantly. In a moment, he was diving into the bed, and you laughed as the mattress creaked; he laid next to you on his back, and you reached an arm around his torso while setting your head on his shoulder.

He smelled so good after his shower, clean and woodsy from his deodorant, and his curls held their shape despite being wet still.

“Should’ve known you’d be like a barnacle soon as I got in here,” he chuckled.

“I said I was cold,” you reminded him, hugging his waist tighter.

“Night, birdie,” he whispered after he kissed the top of your head. With him holding you, you were asleep in an instant.

It was one of those dreamless sleeps that went by quickly, like you’d only shut your eyes for a few minutes. You would’ve thought it was still the middle of the night when you woke up, if it weren’t for the sun coming in through the open window.

Specifically, you woke up because of a long sigh right by your ear, making you blink your eyes open quickly and start to stretch your legs out under the sheet and blanket. You were on your side, and Tommy was pressed right up on your back, his arm draped around your torso.

He sighed again, and you felt him shift around against you. Most importantly, you felt something hard and hot on your lower back. Eyes going wide, you jolted as you felt him rock his hips against you again.

"Tommy," you whispered, hoping to wake him up.

"Mm," he hummed, smiling against your neck, and you shuddered.

"Tommy!" you hissed, and he snorted as he woke up suddenly.

He pulled back and all but jumped away from you. “Shit, I—” he mumbled, sitting up as the bed creaked; god, his face was so red, he looked adorably flustered and a bit terrified. “I’m sorry, birdie, I swear I wasn’t trying to—”

“It’s okay, Tommy,” you insisted, sitting up with him, “it’s not a big deal.”

“What’d you say? It’s not big?” he choked.

“No! Tommy, it’s—” you stopped yourself from saying what you wanted to say then. “I know that happens to guys in the mornings…”

“Oh, yeah,” he agreed, reaching up to rub the back of his neck nervously, “happens when we’re in bed with pretty girls, too…”

Before you could wonder if there was something to read into there, he spoke again.

“I’m fucked,” he groaned, running his hand down over his face, “what’s the time?”

“Ten ‘til 9,” you informed him following a glance at the clock on the nightstand.

“We’ve got that breakfast soon, we’re supposed to meet downstairs in five minutes,” he recalled. “And I can’t get dressed ‘til he’s gone away.”

“How do you normally get rid of it?” you wondered, watching him look at you for a second before looking away again.

“Well…” he trailed off, clearing his throat.

“Well?” you pressed.

“Y-y’know,” he stammered, “it’s— er— fuckin’ hell, birdie, can’t say it with you lookin’ at me like that…”

“C’mon, Tommy, I know you wank off,” you rolled your eyes, “you and every other bloke on the planet.”

“But I can’t do it with you here!” he yelped, and a pang of self-consciousness hit your chest. Were you that horrible of a sight that he wouldn’t be able to finish with you nearby?

“I-I’ll leave then, give you some space,” you offered.

“Birdie, I’ll know you’re just outside the door, that’s not gonna help,” he frowned.

“Well shit, Tommy, where’dya want me to go? Fuckin’ Launceston?”

“No, shit, that’s not what I meant,” he groaned, reaching up and covering his face as he rubbed his eyes with his fingertips. “You’ve just got me all messed up— s’not your fault, I mean! I just don’t know what m’gonna do now…”

You bit your lip, glancing over at the flowery wallpaper on the opposite side of the room, then to the window and its view out over the beach. “I mean, maybe… maybe if it would help, I could…”

“Jesus, birdie, don’t say you’re gonna wank me off or somethin’,” he pleaded with a concerned tilt of his head, and you stammered as you tried to remember what you were going to say.

“No, I— I was gonna say you could…” you began again, “er— I mean, before, while you were asleep, you were… it was…”

“What?” he pressed, leaning a little closer to you, and you chickened out.

“Nevermind, sorry,” you shook your head, “you should just get dressed— nobody’ll notice it.”

That was a lie: if it looked as big as it felt, a family of four could go camping under the tent in his shorts at this point. “No, c’mon,” he pleaded, scooting a little closer to you, “won’t make fun of you or nothin’, just wanna know what you were gonna say. You know I can’t run down to breakfast with my willy tryin’ to jump out, yeah? Like, ‘hey mum an’ dads, pass me the eggs, then— don’t mind my fuckin’ blood sausage under the table—’”

You laughed, pushing him on the chest— but he just moved closer, again, looking right at your face. You felt oddly exposed to him, even though he should’ve been the one feeling like that considering the circumstances. “Fine,” you relented, “I was just… thought maybe you could— well, it could help you if you, um… just… pressed up against me, again? Like you were before? And you could, er…”

Dropping your voice to a mumble just above a whisper, you watched your hands clutch the spotted quilt in lieu of meeting his invasive stare.

“You could… grind on me, a bit,” you finally completed, so quiet that you barely heard yourself. But he was a few inches away— he must’ve heard you. Literally, he must have, because you couldn’t say it again.

“Eh?” he grunted, and you rolled your eyes.

“C’mon, Tommy, you’re not deaf, are you?”

“No, m’just… you wan’ me to rub me stiffy on you?” he realised, tilting his chin down and raising an eyebrow. Leave it to Tommy to throw all the subtlety to the wind and just say it outright like that, ignorant to the way it made your cheeks burn and your throat catch.

“I-I mean, I don’t want you to,” you denied quickly, “I just thought it might go away if you did. Means to an end, right?”

“Yeah, means to an end,” he agreed, clearing his throat. “Just feel a little weird about it, birdie, I mean… it’s you. You know I love ya— don’t wanna be rude to you or, er, disrespectful—”

“It’s not,” you promised, “I’m offering— and it’ll be quick, right?”

“Er, yeah,” he coughed, rubbing the back of his neck again, “should be…”

“Okay, then, should we?” you asked, sheepishly raising your eyebrows as you looked at him.

“I mean, fuck, birdie,” he laughed nervously, “I think you know we shouldn’t.”

But you both already knew that you were going to, and the thrill of something so forbidden titillated you further.

“Lay down then, yeah?” he instructed you softly, and you turned back onto your side as you felt him press up to your back. His arm slipped around your front, the one with your bracelet on his wrist, and you could feel him breathing by the back of your neck as he brushed your hair out of the way. “This alright?”

You nodded, and he held you a little tighter; you felt it then, brushing up against your lower back. You were getting sweaty from how warm it was with him pressed up on you under the thick covers, yet you still shivered.

He hummed quietly, his hand moving down your hips so he could hold you steady. And he rocked into you again, more confidently, a shaky breath falling from his lips.

When his forehead rested against the back of your shoulder, you felt your back arch slightly; and then you could feel the ridge under the head of his cock, you could feel it when he moved in one, long stroke and you bit your lip, arching your back deeper.

“Shit,” he grunted quietly, and he started to move a little faster right after he said that.

After just a minute or less of that, you were beyond desperate to have him inside you, you couldn’t stop thinking about what it would feel like— about how he would stretch you open, how he would moan for you as he filled you to the brim. If he wanted to, right now, he could just lift up your shirt a bit and pull your panties down without saying anything, slip inside you in one go; you were soaking wet, he’d slide in so easily…

“Fuck, birdie,” he breathed, “roll over.”

His verbal command was a bit moot, since his hand was already on your shoulder, gently pushing you to lay on your back. He hovered above you for a moment, and you looked up at him with wide eyes.

“Spread your legs,” he whispered; you’d only been waiting years for him to say that to you. You did it unquestioningly, and he slotted himself between them with a low groan. When he pressed his cock up against your aching cunt— through so many frustrating layers of pyjamas— he shut his eyes and tossed his head back for a second. It was so perfect, his face in bliss like that, the morning sun peeking in through the curtains and making his curls shine golden-blonde. He looked fucking beautiful.

A little gasp jumped in your mouth as he started to thrust against you again, each stroke of his hips rubbing right over your clit and making his chain dangle over your face. You almost felt guilty, for a second, with the little engraving of Saint Thomas right there, like he was watching you do this. “Sh-shit, Tommy…” you hissed, catching yourself before you moaned aloud when he rocked his hip harder against you and your whole pussy clenched. If only he could feel that now— if only he could feel around his cock how desperately you needed him.

He descended down upon you, burying his face in your neck. His hair tickled your cheek, and you fisted at the sheets to stop yourself from reaching up and holding onto him— that would be too much, too needy, right? It was just supposed to be a means to an end, after all. “Can I kiss you here?” he asked under his breath.

“Er, why would you do that?” you wondered.

“Just— thought it might make it go faster,” he justified.

“Y-yeah, Tommy, s’fine,” you nodded. Do whatever you want to me.

He latched on right away, a mess of lips and tongue and teeth all over your neck; everything in you fought to keep your moans down, because you didn’t want him to know how much you loved this, how close you were to coming without even doing anything… without even taking your clothes off!

“Are you close?” you asked him softly, feeling him nod.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, and his heavy breathing cooled your skin where it was still wet with his spit. “Just a little longer?”

“You’re not gonna give me a hickey, are you?” you whispered.

“Not if you don’t want me to,” he replied.

“Just— make it quick, Tommy, we’ve gotta be downstairs soon,” you reminded him.

“Right, yeah, m’gonna come,” he promised, sending another chill over your body. One of his hands moved down, holding your thigh as he thrusted faster and faster— fuck, the headboard was about to hit the wall. Just as you looked up to see it slam once, you saw his free hand reach up and grab onto it tightly, blocking the impact with his knuckles.

“Tommy,” you breathed, an involuntary reaction to how deliberately sexy that was.

“Say it again,” he requested quietly.

“Tommy,” you repeated, and he grunted right against your ear— he didn’t stop moving entirely, just slowed down quite a bit as he rutted on you.

“Fuck,” he sighed, panting. You swallowed, feeling wonderfully strange knowing that must be it, that he just came— because of you. His weight sank down onto you, making you let out a little squeal from the air rushing out of your lungs, and he laughed quietly. “Sorry,” he mumbled, lifting himself up and hovering above you again, “didn’t mean to crush you…”

“S’all fine, Tom,” you promised, closing your legs as soon as you had the chance— before he could see that you’d soaked through your panties.

“Oh, ‘Tom’, eh? Gettin’ formal, are we?” he grinned. “Now that you’ve got me to bust in me trousers, we’re not so friendly anymore?”

“Shut up,” you laughed as you pushed him aside, swinging your legs off the bed so you could get up. “Gonna use the loo and then I’ll get dressed.”

“What?!” he croaked. “You kidding? Of course I get to use the loo first!”

“Not if I get there before you,” you challenged, jumping up and trying to race him across the hotel room. He beat you, but only by playing dirty— he ran up behind you and grabbed you, spinning you around as you kicked and laughed and squirmed in his grasp.

two weeks later

Moonshine on the bay had become a tradition on nights like this, when the warmth of summer was creeping around the corner, ever since you were both fifteen and in desperate need of some rebellion. Now, without the illegality and all, it had lost some of that titillating appeal, but you still loved going out so late and meeting him at your secret spot. It had the perfect view of the water at night, not that it was a particularly scenic section of the sea since it was mostly cargo ships and docks and all that, but under the flickering old street lamp and the tall field elms, it was almost romantic.

Tommy was currently still standing while you leaned back on your hands, brandishing the liquor he’d secured for the evening. “For you,” he offered you the opened bottle with a smile, and you took it, but waited for him to take a sip of his first. He did, and you saw his lips curling as he drank.

“How is it?” you asked, and he stopped drinking to cough a bit.

“It’s hangin’!” he grimaced. “But it’ll do the job.”

You took a sip while he sat down next to you, and made a face of your own. “Ah fuck! That’s terrible! Where the fuck’d you get this?”

But you knew what he meant when he said it would do the job— one sip was already warming your chest, and the next, though just as disgusting as the last, made you feel tingly at the tips of your fingers.

With your bottles halfway finished, you two sat up in the grass and watched the lights of ships go by slowly in the night. “Had a date last night,” you blurted out suddenly, just to make conversation.

“Really? With who?”

“You remember Jack Meyer?”

“God, I wish I didn’t,” he sneered, “what a knob.”

“Could you stop insulting all the guys I go out with?” you frowned.

“Stop going out with knobs and I will,” he bargained.

“Anyways, he was nice,” you announced firmly. “Took me to the cinema and bought me a popcorn.”

“What size?” he asked.

“Medium.”

“Cheap bastard,” Tom grumbled.

“Shut up! I’m trying to tell you that it was a nice date!” you yelped, pushing him on the shoulder. “We actually, um… well, maybe I shouldn’t tell you.”

“What?” he wondered.

“I mean, I tell you everything— you tell me everything. You told me when Sharon Caldwell let you feel her tits in eighth grade, and you told me when you lost it to Annie— what was her name again?”

“Annie Shaw,” he finished for you.

“Right… so, point is, I figured I should tell you what happened with me and Jack, right?” you wondered. When you found the courage to look over at Tommy, his expression was… intense. Almost angry, a little terrified.

“Don’t tell me you gave it up to him,” he pleaded, leaning in a little closer.

“God no! I just wanked him a bit.”

"You did what to 'im?!" Tommy yelped.

"W-well, I dunno!" you backpedalled quickly.

“Aw, birdie, you can do so much better than him,” he groaned.

“Okay, maybe so, but he’s the one I wanted to go out with. And he was nice and he made me feel— I dunno, pretty?” you mumbled, afraid to sound too girlish.

“Come on, you can’t go rubbing off any guy who calls you pretty,” Tom scolded.

“This isn’t just any guy!”

“Yeah, it’s Jack Meyer. In fourth year he swallowed a penny and it never came out!”

“Believe it or not, Tommy, it's not fourth year anymore,” you frowned. “Things are different. We’re older. I’m not a little kid— and I’m tired of being treated like one!”

He sighed slowly, taking another swig of the booze. “I guess that’s fair,” he relented. “Still… can’t stand thinking about you doing that to some guy.”

"Why?"

He seemed confused by your question, and gave you a look.

"Why can't you stand thinking about it?" you interrogated.

"I… I don't know…" He coughed a bit, clearly wanting to change the subject, but you kept staring at him as you waited for an answer. “I guess it’s just that,” he began again, “I worry because it’s Jack, you know? He’s a little aggressive with girls— or, he was back when I knew him. He didn’t… pressure you into it, right?”

You thought back to the night before, and how it all happened. “Erm, no,” you decided, “not really.”

“Not really? What’s that mean?”

“Well, he didn’t make me do it,” you explained, “but he was… showing me how, ‘cause I didn’t know.”

“Sh-showing you?” Tom repeated.

“He, erm, he took my hand,” you remembered, feeling your heart start to race as you looked at Tom closely. “And he put it… he put it right here.”

It was the liquor that made you do it; you pressed your hand up to the front of his trousers, feeling him getting firmer under your touch already. He jumped a little but didn’t stop you.

"He told me to take it out for him…" you continued, voice wavering as your whole body was suddenly shivering from nervousness, and started to open his trousers yourself.

“Birdie,” Tom gasped, and you looked up to his face again.

“Do you want me to stop?” you asked him point blank. He didn’t say anything. “Can I keep going?”

His mouth was open slightly, and he was breathing heavily through it; he nodded. You unzipped his fly and reached in, navigating the opening of his boxers to get his cock out.

Of course, you’d felt it before, but you’d never seen it. It was as beautiful as a cock could be, you thought: tanner than the rest of him for some reason, flushed at the tip, still just starting to poke out from his foreskin with a teal vein running up under your palm. Biting your lip, you wrapped your fingers a little tighter around it. “H-he told me to stroke it, like this,” you stammered, moving your hand gently and slowly from the base to the tip and back— then again, and again.

Daring to glance up at Tom’s face again, you saw him watching your hand with a dumbstruck expression. You twisted your hand slightly as you reached the tip and he groaned. "Birdie…" he sighed— his voice wore some impossible mixture of arousal, confusion, scolding, disappointment, and desperation. It made your knees weak. Good thing you were still kneeling on the ground, so it didn’t make much difference. You were so sloshed that standing up would’ve been a bit of an effort, anyway.

“When I was doing it right,” you continued, “he’d tell me I was bein’ good for him… it made me feel weird when he said that, but good. You know?”

“Y-yeah…” he choked, hissing through his teeth.

It went on that way for a little while, just his panting and the crickets chirping; though there was clear fluid leaking from the tip of his cock, you thought it might not be enough, so you pursed your lips and let your spit dribble down onto him so you could spread it out with your hand.

“Christ,” he groaned, “Jack taught you that, too?”

You nodded, and he growled a little— the sound made your chest tighten up (as well as a few other places). His cock was starting to bob against your grip, and his breathing was faster and heavier with each stroke. "You're close?" you noticed, and he nodded, chest heaving as he stared down at what you were doing to him. "You can come, Tom. I want you to."

"Shit," he hissed. "Shit, jus' don't stop then."

And you didn't, in fact you moved your hand even faster, until it was just a blur and he was bucking up into your palm desperately.

"Ah, fuck!" he gasped, and come started to spurt from his pulsing cock, landing on his shirt and your hand. "Fuck…"

You watched his face as it tilted back, his eyebrows knitted together, his mouth parted in a little moan. Your hand was still moving, and his jumped up to grab your wrist and stop you. Then it was still, and silent, except for him breathing like he'd just run a marathon.

After a moment, he tilted his head down again and came back to reality; he instantly looked mortified. "God, birdie," he choked, "I made a mess on you— m'so sorry, let me get it…"

He tried to wipe the come away with his shirt, frantically cleaning your hand up as best he could. "It's fine, Tommy," you giggled.

"No it isn't, I've got your pretty hand all dirty now…"

Examining his focused expression as he wiped up the smears of come, you bit your lip slightly. You did feel guilty for making up that whole story about a date with Jack Meyer that never did— and never would— happen, but it worked. You’d never lied to Tommy like that before, but you decided to blame it on the liquor and not your desperation.

In the two weeks since your holiday, nothing untoward whatsoever had happened between you and it was driving you crazy. You didn’t even talk about it! You, of course, thought about it every day— well, really every night, when you touched yourself and tried to remember exactly how his voice sounded in your ear. That was what drove you to this, to getting drunk and making shit up for a chance to touch him.

"Kiss me," you said suddenly. He looked up at your face, and you just stared at each other for a second.

His hand dropped yours— it was clean now, or clean enough at least— and moved up to hold your face. You sighed slightly; his thumb stroked your cheek and he smiled at you.

He gently tilted your head down and met you halfway, pressing his lips to your forehead. Your chest deflated and your eyes fell shut. So this is what heartbreak feels like. It's not as bad as I thought.

"That better?" he asked as he pulled back, moving his own face down so he could look up at you with a tender smile. You nodded, willing yourself not to cry in front of him now.

You were throwing yourself at him and he was throwing you away. "We'll always be friends, won't we?" you asked quietly.

"Aw, birdie— of course," he cooed, pulling you into a hug. You clutched at his shoulders, digging your nails into handfuls of his ratty old Nirvana t-shirt.

He rolled back onto the grass and pulled you down with him, making you laugh and try to get away— but he wouldn't let you go.

"We'll always be friends," he promised again, "'cause otherwise who'd keep all those awful boys away from you?"

"Shut up," you rolled your eyes.

"I will," he sighed, relaxing his grip on you slightly. "I'm gonna ease up on you, I think. Let you date somebody if you want— even if he's a tosser. 'Cause you're right, you're not a little kid anymore. And it's not fair to you."

You swallowed, laying your head on his chest. You'd never actually wanted him to let you date someone else… you just wanted him to finally love you back. But maybe this was the best you were going to get.

“Go, Tommy!” you cheered from the side of the pitch, though he surely couldn’t hear you through all that.. rugby-ing. Rugbing?

Whatever— point is, you clapped and hollered anyways as you watched him run all over the place, narrowly dodging being tackled a few times. You winced when he got taken down from the side by one of the biggest guys out there. Tommy had a high pain tolerance, but you’d rather not see him lose a tooth or something. What a waste of a perfect smile that would be.

For all their efforts, Tommy’s team lost by just a few points; it was just a scrimmage, hence why there was basically no one else here but you and the actual team members, so you hoped he wouldn’t be pouty the rest of the day after losing. He didn’t seem to be, from what you could tell this far away— he was shaking hands and bumping fists, sweaty and streaked with dirt and grass as he chugged from his water bottle. It really should not have been as attractive as it was…

Before you got caught ogling, someone caught your attention: “Hey,” one of the players jogged up to you, and you blinked up at him blankly, not sure who he was. You’d definitely seen him before, you remembered his dreads and… overall massiveness. But you weren’t sure what he was talking to you for. “You’re here with Tom, yeah?”

“Oh, yes,” you smiled.

“He said you’re an old mate of his,” the player went on.

“Mhm,” you nodded.

“Sweet of you to come cheer him on,” he laughed, “even though it didn’t seem to do him much good today.”

You shrugged. “He loses a lot, but he always gets back up.”

“I’m Rhys, by the way,” he offered. “I’d shake your hand or somethin’, but I’m pretty filthy at the moment.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you laughed. “Surprised you haven’t gone to the showers already, that’d be the first thing I’d be doing after getting that sweaty.”

“Well, I was gonna,” he explained, “but, well, I was afraid you’d be gone before I got back.”

You raised an eyebrow, wondering what that meant, and he continued on.

“Listen, I asked Tom, but I figured I should ask you… er…” he stalled as he smiled nervously. “Have you got a boyfriend or anythin’?”

“Er, no,” you answered.

“Issuh?” he laughed.

“Yes!” you insisted. “You think I’m lying or something?”

“I think it’s a little too good to be true, that’s all,” he explained. “Girl like you shouldn’t stay single too long.”

You kept waiting for Tommy to come ruin it— to come rescue you. You glanced over, and you saw him look back at you, but he just smiled and kept working on the laces of his cleats.

“So, I guess I should ask for your number before it’s too late, yeah?” Rhys continued. You were pulled out of your thoughts, looking up at him and dropping your mouth open as you hoped for some words to come out.

“Oh! Erm,” you began, “well—”

“It’s okay if not,” he promised, “but, you know… I’d like it. So I can call you sometime or something— maybe I’ll have worked up the nerve to ask you out by then.”

Your cheeks were warm, but so were the backs of your eyes. You never thought you would miss it, Tom running up and putting his arm around you, shooting whatever guy you were talking to a glare that made everyone feel uncomfortable; you glanced over at him again, watching him chat and laugh with some of the other guys. He was just going to let this happen, wasn’t he? And so were you. “Yeah,” you finally blurted out, “sure— got your phone now? I’ll put it in for you.”

“Great,” he smiled, pulling his phone out of his pocket and handing it to you. “Wow, that went surprisingly well.”

“Are you that surprised?” you laughed as you added yourself as a contact.

“These things don’t normally go right for me,” he explained.

“For you?” you glanced up at him incredulously.

“Now, don’t give me an ego,” he chuckled, and you laughed with him.

You quickly held his phone up to take a selfie with your tongue sticking out, adding it as your contact photo. “There you go,” you handed it back to him, and he looked at it with a wide smile on his face.

“Aw, that’s rich,” he said, and you bit your lip. “I really should hit the showers now, but, I’ll call you?”

“Okay,” you smiled, “I’ll answer. Probably.”

He waved at you as he left, looking down at your contact in his phone one more time with a shake of his head, before disappearing into the little tunnel through the stands.

You told Tom you would wait for him until he was all done, but god, he was taking forever getting cleaned up. In fact, everyone else had left when he finally came out in his change of clothes and found you leaning against the cement wall outside the practice facility. “Fuck took you so long?” you groaned as he appeared.

“You know how long it takes to wash off after a match like that?” he laughed. “You wouldn’t have walked home with me in the state I was in.”

“Okay, fair enough,” you sighed, “can we go now?”

“Well, um— actually, I have to get my bag from the locker room…”

“Oh my god,” you whined.

“Don’t get teazy, I just have to pack up all my gear,” he scolded.

“I’m coming with you,” you insisted, “and helping you carry it so we can get fuckin’ home already.”

“Fine, fine,” he laughed, starting back as you followed along with him. “Lucky for you, it’s empty.”

“Aw,” you faked a pout, “no sexy rugby boys to look at?”

“Just me,” he smiled— and fuck, he was joking, but it scared you for a second.

There was a little awkward pause while he guided you around the bend into the locker area, left surprisingly clean after the boys were finished; it was only Tom’s locker open, with his things all strewn about, and you sighed. “Look at the mess you made…” you breathed, starting to help him clean it up and get his things together.

“Rhys finally asked you out, then?” Tommy grinned, elbowing you lightly.

“O-oh, yeah,” you breathed, “erm, well— he just got my number, no date yet or anything.”

“Well, it’s a start. I didn’t want to give him your number for you, but he asked me for it— actually, he’s asked about you a couple times now.”

“You think he’s good enough for me?” you asked.

“I mean, I dunno,” Tommy shrugged, “I don’t know him that well. But he seems nice enough— figure you can decide the rest.”

You sighed, nodding a little.

“If he tries anything, though, you let me know and I’ll set him straight, alright?” he added, and you laughed.

“Alright, I will,” you agreed, kneeling down to get some of his clothes from off the floor and stuff them into the duffel. “Not sure how you’re gonna do that when he’s got a metre on you and maybe twenty pounds of muscle—”

“Shut up,” Tom scoffed. “You know I can take any guy down if it’s got to do with you.”

Your throat caught, and you stood up again. "Tommy, listen, I actually— I wanted to… talk to you."

He cleared his throat, looking nervous as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah? You're all good, right? Everythin's okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," you nodded, leaning back against the lockers, "I just… I was thinking about you."

He stepped up closer to you, close enough that your heart started to race. "Oh… what about me?"

"Well, about us," you clarified, "you and me— I want… erm…"

"Hm?"

"I just— you know how we sometimes…?"

He leaned his head in a little closer, waiting with raised eyebrows for you to get to your point.

"That thing we do, sometimes?" you started again. "I wanna… do it again."

He nodded, like he understood, but then paused and moved his mouth over to the side. "You wanna go to the cinema?"

You laughed, more out of frustration than amusement, and tilted your head forward to rest on his chest. "God, Tommy…"

"What?" he laughed.

"I— I want—"

You couldn't look up at him as you said it. You took a deep breath and tried to compose your bravery.

"I want us to touch each other again," you finally rushed out. You waited for him to say something, or do something, but he didn't. “Like when we were on holiday,” you recalled, toying with the hem of his shirt. “And that night on the bay…”

“God, birdie, I— I dunno if I can do that again,” he breathed, and you felt your eyes start to burn a bit.

“Really, Tommy?” you sighed. “I’m that… repulsive? Or is it Rhys? ‘Cause all he’s done is get my number—”

“N-no,” he groaned, “shit, m’not makin’ any sense. I can’t do that again with you because it’s too hard, okay?”

You looked up at him, knitting your eyebrows together. “What’s too hard?”

“Touchin’ you like that,” he whispered— even now, the way he said made your spine tingle— glancing down from your eyes to your lips and back, “and havin’ to act normal again. Not bein’ your boyfriend.”

Of everything you thought he might say then, you never expected that. You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling, even when you bit your bottom lip. A laugh broke out through your grin, and you had to cover your mouth to try to hide it.

“Jesus, you’re laughin’ at me now!” he lamented. “I finally tell you and you laugh at me! You’re heartless, you know that?”

“No, Tommy, v’got a heart— and it’s all yours,” you promised, standing up on your toes to peck him on the cheek. He gave you a confused look, and you laughed again. “You don’t get it do you, still? I’ve fancied you for ages— proper in love with you, really. Kept askin’ you to do all that stuff ‘cause, well, you’re all I think about anyways. Thought you were just doing me favours.”

After a pause, he finally laughed with you. “Am I a fuckin’ idiot, then? You’ve had it goin’ for me all this time and I didn’t notice?”

“You’re a little stupid,” you mitigated. “I think I was being pretty obvious.”

“Yeah, and what about me?” he noticed. “I’ve been all over you forever— kissin’ and huggin’ you, cuddling all the time— you didn’t notice that I think you’re fit?”

You shrugged. "You've always been like that."

"Yeah!" he emphasised.

"Ohhhh," you nodded, "hm. Okay, we're both a little stupid."

“Birdie,” he smiled, and your heart melted, because he’d never said it quite like that before. He leaned in and gave you a kiss on the cheek.

“You can really kiss me, you know,” you told him, and he pulled away just enough to look at you with an impossible-to-read expression. “I-if you want,” you mitigated suddenly, and he smiled at you, then laughed.

“Aw, fuck, Tommy,” you turned your head to the side, “you’re awful…”

He put his hand on the side of your face, gently turning you to look at him. “Yeah,” he agreed. And then he moved in closer and kissed you— properly, finally. You shut your eyes, your chest emptying with a sigh; his other hand held your face then, too, and you reached up to hold his wrists. Your right hand felt the worn-out old bracelet that he still wore, and you couldn’t help but smile a bit against him. He smiled, too.

“Tommy,” you sighed, reaching out and grabbing him by his belt to pull him closer. He pressed his forehead on yours, looking down at your hands working on the buckle shakily.

“Birdie, c’mon,” he gasped, “not here—”

You pouted a little, and he laughed.

“We waited all this time and you can’t wait until we get home?”

“Yes!” you whined. “I need you…”

“Shit,” he groaned, kissing you again— but just for a few very passionate seconds before he pulled back once more. “We’ll go home and I’ll do this right, I swear.”

“Why can’t we just do it here?” you wondered.

“Because if you told me some guy had taken your virginity in a rugby practice field locker room, I would kill him,” Tom frowned.

You laughed. “Fine, fine… let’s go home.”

Thank god his parents weren’t home. You didn’t want to try to be quiet.

He had you in his bed the second the door was shut, kissing you voraciously as he helped you undress and tore his own shirt and trousers off. For a guy who was just preaching patience, he was pretty hasty all of a sudden.

When all you had on were your panties, he set his arms straight to hover over you and stare down at you, looking a little dumbstruck. You almost felt self-conscious enough to try to cover your chest, but he smiled at you and you felt a little better. “You’re so… fuck, birdie, you’re pretty.”

It was a simple compliment, but it felt incredibly powerful when he said it like that. He was in his boxers, and it wasn’t too much more skin than you’d already seen while swimming with him and such, but it was different with his massive hard-on making a visible imprint in the patterned cotton.

Gently, he spread your legs, and tightened his jaw at the sight of the wet patch on your underwear. “Oh, fuck,” he sighed.

“I always get like that,” you admitted quietly. “Should be easy for you to fuck me, right?”

“Yes, yeah,” he agreed, “but m’not gonna fuck you yet.”

You frowned a little, and he laughed as he kissed you again.

“I told you I’m doing this the right way,” he insisted, “it’s your first time. It’ll hurt if I just go for it.”

He leaned back and sat up, bringing his hands down to the waistband of your panties and gently dragging them down your legs; you felt gooseflesh spread all over your body.

“Oh, darling,” he whispered as he opened your legs again, looking right at you now. You squirmed a little, but his grip on your thighs was tight. “I need you to tell me now if you’ve changed your mind about this… ‘cause I can already tell I’m gonna have a hard time stopping once I start.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you were sure, you were so sure. “I haven’t changed my mind,” you promised.

“I won’t get mad at you or anything,” he assured.

“I know— I’m sure,” you breathed. Wondering if you should return the sentiment, you asked, "You're sure you wanna do this? With me?"

"Birdie, I've wanted to do this with you since I knew what this was," he smiled.

"And you don't mind that I've never…"

"No, birdie, I don't mind," he laughed. "Think it's perfect actually. Couldn't let any other lad be your first. Couldn't let any other lad touch you like this."

You bit your lip. “You were gonna let me go out with Rhys,” you reminded him.

“I let you give him your number. We hadn’t even gotten to you going out with him,” Tom corrected. “And I was acting fine as best I could but I was really jumpin’, birdie, thinking about if something might happen with you two— something like this…”

You whined as you tugged on his shirt, hoping to hide your face in his neck, but he pulled his face back so he could look down at you with a smile. "Tommy, please," you whimpered.

"Please, what?" he encouraged.

"Jus' need you…"

He kissed your neck again, making your back arch and your hands grab onto his shoulders, and pressed his hips down against you. You whined at the feeling of his erection through clothes, but opened your eyes in confusion when he pulled back again just a moment later, hovering over you. "Say my name when I make you come, yeah?" he instructed, and you nodded. "Try it on for size just once, why don'tya," he encouraged with a smile.

"Tommy," you smiled back, and he kissed the tip of your nose.

"That's m'girl," he praised, before crawling back down, kissing a trail over your stomach, moving his hand up your thigh.

He just kept his face right up close to you, watching his finger swipe through your folds, then watching it gently circle your clit. You whimpered, and felt your insides flex on nothing. Apparently, that made him want to give you something to clench on— he gently slipped his pointer finger past your opening, and you let out a long sigh.

“So warm inside,” he observed. He pulled the finger back out a second later, putting it in his mouth and humming happily. He put his mouth on you at the same time that he put the finger back in, along with a second; that was a lot to take in, and your back arched up off the bed instantly. He mouthed at your clit, swirling his tongue around while his lips created this wonderful pressure; you had to grab onto his hair, and thankfully, he didn’t seem to mind.

Eventually, he did have to break away for a second. "Wondered how you'd taste," he admitted with a sigh.

"Well?" you prompted.

"Taste like 'eaven, birdie," he purred. "Sweet little pussy— an' it's all for me?"

"All yours," you nodded, and he growled a little as he dove back in.

The tip of his tongue slid right up from your opening to where your clit was swollen and throbbing— he pushed his tongue flat against it and you whimpered loudly. He started to really fuck you with his fingers then, rather than just letting the natural movement of your hips force you to ride them; they curled inside you, hitting a spot that made your own fingers curl into fists in his hair. You didn’t want to hurt him, but he didn’t mind getting his hair pulled, apparently, and just moaned lowly against you.

The pressure started weighing on your gut after a while, your pussy tensing up on him faster and faster until it was just bearing down on him unendingly. “Fuck, Tommy,” you gasped.

“C’mon, birdie,” he mumbled against you, “wan’ you to come. Go ahead and come for me, yeah?”

You called out his name one more time, and it all spilled over at once; he shut his eyes tight, letting you pull his face right up against you by his curls as your hips bucked and grinded on him. You sobbed weakly, and when it was suddenly too much, he broke away and pinned you down for a messy kiss.

It left you even more breathless than you already were. When he pulled back, his eyes were a little glazed over and his lips and chin were a lot glazed over; he gave you a crooked smile. “Taste how sweet you are?” he purred. You wouldn’t call it sweet, really, but it still turned you on like crazy to hear him say it.

“Please, Tom,” you gasped, grabbing his shoulders, “you’ll fuck me now, right?”

He nodded, and you let out a sigh of relief. “Sure you’re ready?” he asked, laughing when you groaned and punched him on the arm.

“Course I’m fuckin’ ready!” you snapped. “God, Tommy, you always give ‘em all this rigamarole first?”

He shook his head. “Just you, birdie… it was always just you.”

Kissing you again, his breath changed as he reached down to push his boxers out of the way and kick them off to the floor. The way it felt to have his bare skin against yours as he lowered himself down was… euphoric. Warm and soft and smooth, and when he wrapped you in his arms, it felt like he could just absorb you entirely. You wouldn’t mind it if he did.

He'd prepared you so well that there was only one quick sting of pain when he pushed inside you— though just that was still enough to make one tiny tear roll down your temple, which he kissed away softly.

"Are you alright?" he whispered. You nodded. "I need you to tell me, birdie."

"I'm okay," you promised through a sigh. "It hurts a little, b-but please don't stop."

"You're sure?"

"Please!"

He pushed his hips flush with yours and you gritted your teeth, though everything in you relaxed just a moment later; and all that was left was the fullness, the warmth of him, the way his eyes sparkled as he looked down at you. "You're so beautiful," he whispered to you, and you bit your lip.

"I love you, Tommy," you mumbled weakly, and he planted one soft kiss on your mouth.

"I love you too, darling."

He carefully began to move, needing to reach down with one hand to keep your hips steady. Your moans were shaky at first, but got louder and more even with each movement.

"You're… so deep," you breathed. "Tommy, I— I didn't know anything could be so deep in me."

"Well, I am," he grinned. "I'm right… here."

He pressed down on your stomach, right on the spot where the tip of his cock reached— and your eyes rolled back. "Ohh, god," you whined.

"You feel it, love?" he cooed.

"Yes, yes," you groaned. "Fuck, Tommy, why didn't you tell me you had a perfect cock?"

He laughed a little, leaning down to kiss you on the jaw. "Guess it never came up."

"Does it always… is it always like this?" you wondered. "It's so good, does it always feel this good?"

He shook his head, kissing your forehead and then trailing down your nose and cheek. "No, it's not always like this," he answered quietly. "Not for me, anyway. It's never been like this."

His lips met yours again, and you reached up to weave your fingers into the hair at the back of his neck. He groaned a little, moving his hips faster, and you smiled. "Do you wanna fuck me harder?" you asked.

"Fuck," he mumbled, "I— I could. Do you want me to?"

"I can take it," you promised.

Picking up the pace slightly, he held you tighter; and you felt each impact a little harder, the sound of his skin on yours echoing around the room. “Like that?” he asked.

“Yes,” you answered— you meant it more neutral than it came out, it sounded proper pornographic the way you said it, and he smiled. “More, Tommy, please? Jus’ want more…”

He hissed but did as he was told, latching onto your neck with his lips as he let something a little more animalistic take over, making you cry out and hold onto him tighter. “Beautiful,” he grunted, “you’re so beautiful, birdie— you sound beautiful.”

“It’s just ‘cause you’re making me sound like this,” you sighed, clutching at his back, too overwhelmed by pleasure to worry about scratching him up.

“I’m giving you a hickey this time,” he informed you. “You want my mark on you, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you admitted, “always, Tommy— fuck, always wanted it.”

“‘Cause you’re mine, yeah?”

“Always,” you whimpered.

“A-ah, shit— when it’s time, I'll pull out, okay?" he offered.

"No," you whined, wrapping your legs around his hips. "Tommy, please, want it inside…"

"Birdie," he breathed roughly, "if you say things like that, I-I'll come too fast."

“Don’t care,” you whimpered. ��Promise you’re gonna come inside me.”

“F-fuck,” he groaned, “erm— yeah, m’gonna come in ya, okay?”

You choked out the shortest sob of joy. “Please, please— fuck, I’ll come again…”

“Yeah, fuck, c’mon then,” he praised, “just say my name, birdie— I wanna hear my name.”

“Tommy,” you cried, feeling him gasp against your neck as another wave of heat spread over your body; feeling him flex inside you right as you hit your own peak was so perfect. You could’ve never described your emotions in that moment with words, but they found their way out anyways: you started crying, instantly.

“Don’t cry, birdie, shh,” he soothed quietly, wiping your tears away with his thumb. “C’mon, darling, don’t cry—”

“N-no, Tommy,” you sniffled, “I’m just happy— I’m so happy, I swear…”

So he let you cry, and held you close to him; he didn’t leave until you fell asleep, even though he said he was just going to get you a washcloth and a cup of water and come right back. He played with your hair and kissed your face, and just talked about all the normal things you usually talked about— as in, everything. But this time, it was actually everything, no more hidden feelings.

You didn’t remember falling asleep, but after one of those dreamless sleeps that went by quickly— like you’d only shut your eyes for a few minutes— you woke up tangled with him and his sheets. Turning on your side as best you could, you looked at his sleeping face and smiled to yourself. He woke up just a bit later, cutting your staring short, and smiled back at you.

“Top of the morning, my ‘ansum,” you greeted as you pinched his cheek. He laughed and batted your hand away, hiding his face from the sun under his arm.

“You kicked me in your sleep,” he grumbled.

“So it’s all over, then? Final straw, you’re finally getting rid of me?” you joked.

“Mm, I thought about it,” he snorted, making you laugh. He popped his face up again and started to kiss your face all over.

“Tommy, stop,” you whined.

“You can’t make me stop now,” he pointed out, “it’s one thing to get your best friend to stop kissing you, but your boyfriend? Nah, m’not stopping.”

You laughed, his hand on your waist pulling you closer to him only making you feel more ticklish and squirm more. You only stilled when he grabbed your face and gave you a real kiss, and everything seemed to slow down quite a bit. You kissed him back, properly, reaching up to weave your fingers in his hair. “So, you’re my boyfriend, then?” you noticed when you broke away.

“No, I think we’re still just friends,” he nodded, and you laughed and shoved him on the chest.

“Might as well be, everything we did before sayin’ we were only friends,” you admitted.

“I’m whatever you want me to be, birdie,” he promised.

#tom (make up) x reader #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn smut #tom (make up) smut #make up (2019) fic #tom grant x reader #tom grant smut

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jackrrabbit · 4 years ago

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Adversary /// Overhaul x f!Reader (18+)

Summary: You make a deal with the devil to save your life, but it turns out Overhaul’s not interested in your soul.

A/N: Remember when I said I was going to do a fantasy collab and then dipped for like 9 months? Hahaha…anyway…

@pleasantanathema @ present-mel @shadowworks—if it’s not too late, here’s my part for the Pleasant & Strider Fantasy AU Writing Collab from a million years ago. Go check out the masterlist and gorge yourself on these amazing pieces!!

Tags/Warnings: dubcon, demon fuckery & occult things, big heresy/sacrilege/perversion of religion, sex in a church ft. Catholic sex guilt, other than that it’s not that bad lol, inexperienced reader, mild degradation, shameless camp and demon-fucking clichés, Overhaul calls you “little girl” 👉👈

He doesn’t look like a demon.

Not that you really know what demons are supposed to look like. But…red skin, right? Fangs and claws and swirling masses of bad energy. Maybe cloven hooves for feet. Yes, that’s the Disney version—but even if you didn’t expect a cartoon personification of evil, you didn’t expect this.

He looks like a doctor, you think. Lab coat hanging open, surgery mask pushed down under his jaw, stethoscope draped over his shoulders. No, he’s a little young to really look like a doctor…an intern, you amend, shifting back in your hospital bed. He looks like he fits right in here, not a hair out of place. Except for, you know, the polished black horns curling out of the sides of his skull.

Overhaul. It was written in the book. That’s the only thing you have to call him in your head.

He’s standing in the center of the sigil you drew at the foot of your bed before midnight, surveying the room critically without meeting your gaze. He looks annoyed—that’s not a good sign, is it?—but then again, of course he’s annoyed. You’d be annoyed too if you got summoned out of your cozy hell dimension in the middle of the night. According to the book, you’re lucky he even showed up…although ‘lucky’ isn’t really how you’d describe yourself most days.

“So,” Overhaul says after a long moment of silence in which you question every choice you’ve made in your relatively short life. “You’re dying.”

You nod.

“And you don’t want to be.”

You nod again, wondering if you’re supposed to be contributing more to this conversation. It’s a bit difficult when your mouth is so dry it feels like you’ve been eating dirt, but you suppose being in the presence of an unholy servant of Satan will do that to a person.

“Fine.” He sighs, frowns, and then finally lowers his gaze onto yours—and you shiver.

Those eyes. No human has eyes like that.

“Make me an offer,” Overhaul tells you, and through his open mouth you catch a flash of sharp white teeth.

Okay. Okay. The chirping of the heart monitor speeds up (as if it weren’t obvious enough that you’re terrified) and you fold your knees up to your chest and fidget with your ring and think. He’s giving you a chance to establish parameters. You’re supposed to start with his end of the deal, the thing you want from him. That’s what it said to do in the grimoire, aka the 19th century demonology volume your creepy cousin brought back from her pagan anthropology research trip in rural France. The one you keep hidden under your bed because your mother would burn it if she knew you were reading about summoning demons.

Offer nothing to a hell creature without first telling him your price. You know the words by heart, both the winding calligraphy of the original French from the grimoire and the rushed scrawl of the English translation your cousin left for you in sheets of lined paper layered between the pages of the book for you to read. Really, this is her fault. She was the one who slipped you the book, who told you that it worked, who snuck you the ingredients for the summoning. She was the one who left a bookmark at the chapter on this particular demon, one that specializes in ‘Contrat pour Remédier au Déséquilibre des Quatre Humeurs’, which she said meant a contract to cure any illness. Even his ‘name’ is translated in her hand, practically an afterthought in the margins of the page.

‘Le Malin qui Ravage et Rebâtit’— Overhaul?

You looked up the literal meaning of this phrase on your own. It did not reassure you.

“Girl.” His voice is cold, irate. Your eyes snap back up to his and it feels like that burning gaze is laser-beaming into your skull. “Do not test me. My time is limited…as is yours.”

You swallow. “How long do I have left?”

“Less than a single human year,” he tells you without a trace of sympathy. “Seven months, twelve days, three hours. Or so. You’ll be too exhausted to leave this bed in four months, and the pain will become intolerable in six… By the end, you’ll wish—“

“Stop,” you breathe out. The heart monitor is beeping wildly and you squeeze your knees into your chest, trying to calm down your breathing. “Stop, I—I want to live.”

“Of course you do.” Overhaul’s lip curls. “How very predictable.”

Be specific, you remind yourself, doing your best to ignore the stifling disapproval from the man—the demon—in front of you. Something about him (maybe how clean-cut he looks, maybe the indisputable authority in his demeanor) makes you want to impress him. But you didn’t turn your back on your religion—you didn’t draw pagan symbols on the floor in chalk, fill silver cups with various questionable substances (including your own virgin blood), and turn the crucifix your mother hung over your bed upside-down so you could let a demon make you feel guilty for wanting to survive. “I want to be cured. I’m okay with whatever natural death I have instead when I’m older, I just don’t want to die of this illness. I want you to make me healthy.”

“Simple enough. What else?”

‘Simple’? Your heart surges with something you’ve felt very little of since your initial diagnosis—hope. “T-That’s it. Just the cure.”

Overhaul glares at you. “Humans… Every vice in the world available to you, and you limit yourselves to the basest priority of survival.”

“But you can do it? You can cure me?” you persist.

Overhaul steps forward (quiet, so quiet you wonder if he really moved) and holds a hand out to you past the foot of your bed—you hesitate, and a second later you can see the muscles in his hand flex, stretching the latex of his plastic gloves tight over his knuckles.

Just do it. You give him your hand. Carefully. Like you’re scared the contact will burn you. It doesn’t (although his skin feels warmer than yours), but after a moment his grip tightens, sliding down past your hand to circle the fragile bones of your wrist and squeeze.

“Ow?” You wince.

The demon’s eyes flicker closed for a second, lips moving silently like he’s talking to himself—and then he drops your hand unceremoniously back onto your lap. “You could be cured before the sun rises this morning. I doubt your stay in the hospital will extend past the end of the week.”

He sounds bored, voice as flat and passionless as it was earlier, but your heart is soaring. Cured. You’ve lived with this illness for so many years, you can’t remember the last time someone told you you could be cured. And getting out of the hospital that soon? You can just imagine taking down all the decorations from the walls of your room here and setting them up in your old bedroom at home. You could see friends on the weekend and not take an oxygen bag, you could get a job or—or apply to college, you could have a life—

“That is…assuming you have something to offer me in exchange for the cure.”

Your stomach drops. You’d almost forgotten about the other half of the deal.

“Don’t tell me I came all this way for nothing.” Overhaul steps back, and the orange light of the candles you set sends strange shadows over his arrogant face. The fires look brighter now, and you find yourself tracing the lines of those shining black horns. In an odd way, they look natural—so organically framing his temples that you can’t imagine him without them.

“N-No, of course not. I have some money—I mean, my mom has some, and I can get it for you…” Which is half the truth. If you know anything, it’s that your mother’s spent most of her savings on your treatment and care. You probably have more debt than you have money in the bank right now—you’d try to get rid of that, too, if you hadn’t read in the book how important it is to keep your request as simple and straightforward as possible.

…Although it’s apparently not enough. Overhaul’s eyes narrow, molten gold irises carved into slits. “Even if I had a use for human money, do you really believe your life is worth so little?”

“No—no,” you say quickly. “I just thought—in case you were interested—”

The air crackles with energy, the candle flames spark bright blood-red, and the hair on your arms stands straight up. “I am not.”

“Okay! I get it.” You wave your hands back and forth, pulling your IV line from side to side with the motion. The book was very clear about staying calm and rational while you work out the terms of the deal, but that’s easier said than done when you have a real live (live?) hell creature in front of you. You always knew this was going to be the hard part—all the stories say there’s only one thing that a demon would be interested in, and no matter how inviting the prospect of living past this illness is, you know you’d rather die than sell your immortal soul to the devil. “I’ll give you anything except my soul! And—and don’t hurt anyone I care about, or— just don’t hurt anyone, okay? Other than that, if there’s anything I can give you, I will.”

Overhaul’s lip curls, baring a thin strip of those unnaturally sharp canines. “And is your soul really so valuable?”

This throws you for a loop. Isn’t that the standard deal? A soul for a wish? That’s how it’s supposed to work—at least in this twisted version of reality where you can summon a demon to perform unholy miracles for you. But if you think about it, it doesn’t really make sense, does it? Why would your soul be valuable to him? You can’t form an argument, especially since you’re not willing to barter it away in the first place.

Your mouth is pursed open as you search for a response, but Overhaul doesn’t seem willing to wait. A gloved hand wraps its way around the railing at the side of your bed, and he leans in closer. “Little girl…what makes you think you possess anything I desire?”

Little girl. You’re not a little girl, you’re a grown woman—and yet there’s no untruth in the statement. In front of him you feel insignificant, immature, weak. You have nothing real to offer, and something tells you that you’re not going to get rid of the demon you summoned without a sacrifice you’re not willing to make.

You twist your ring around your finger—the nervous habit you haven’t bothered to break because you’ve always had more important things to worry about—and the glint of silver in the candlelight must catch Overhaul’s eye because before you even notice him moving, your delicate hand is trapped in his larger one to give him a better view of the tiny piece of jewelry. “What is this?”

“It’s—um, a ring. A purity ring.” Has he never seen one before? Well…actually, that makes sense.

Overhaul turns your hand over in his without touching the band of silver. He’s looking at it closely, inspecting the lovingly engraved cross in the design and the inscription on the other side. “Matthew 5:8,” he reads out.

“…Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God,” you recite cautiously. It feels wrong to speak the words in front of him, but somehow you can’t help yourself.

Overhaul’s hand doesn’t leave yours. “This ring is important to you.”

“It’s a symbol of a—a promise I made to God. To save myself for my future husband.”

“To ‘save yourself’? To save what?”

You can’t believe you’re explaining this to a literal demon. You close your eyes and inhale slowly and taste smoke. “My…virginity. It’s a promise that I won’t have sex until I enter into a biblical marriage.”

At this, Overhaul is quiet. You give him a moment to answer, half expecting him to question why you think God cares about your sexual status (honestly, you’d be lying if you said you haven’t wondered this yourself), but he stays quiet until you peek up at him to try and gauge the look on his coldly handsome face.

He’s still staring at the ring. He hasn’t touched it—maybe he can’t, because of the cross?—and through the latex, his skin feels hotter than a human’s is supposed to be.

“Is there…” you start, but you trail off when you realize you have nothing to ask. You give a little tug to try and take your hand away and you’re surprised when your wrist actually slides out of his grip to fall back on the nest of sheets in your lap. You didn’t think he’d let you go so easily.

Overhaul turns his head to the side, eyes drilling into you so you feel like you should lower your gaze. The candlelight flickers in strange shadows over his horns. “This will do,” he says quietly.

“What?”

“In exchange for your cure.” The demon taps his own left ring finger, the place where the purity ring sits on your hand, and your heart soars. He actually wants that? It’s just a simple silver band, not worth much, but you’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Maybe it has some special significance because of the religious connotation. Your mother will be angry you’ve lost it, but you’re happy to cope with that if it means living to actually get married!

“Yes!” you blurt out before he has a chance to rethink his offer. Sure, you’ll miss the purity ring—you’ve had it since you were a kid, after all—but there’s no question you’re getting the better end of this deal. At least in your opinion.

Something flashes through his yellow eyes, something you don’t even want to try and identify. “The contract, then.”

You barely have time to notice that his voice has gentled, that it’s practically silken in comparison to before, when the candlelight flickers again and suddenly the contract is everywhere. Everywhere. Writing appears on every surface in the room, covering the walls, stretching over the ceiling, coiling around the sides of the hospital equipment and decorating your bedsheets until you and Overhaul are the only untouched surfaces in sight. The characters are inscribed in red, dark red like—don’t think about that, you tell yourself squeamishly. You can make out some of the letters, even a word here or there—French, you recognize, mixed with what looks like Latin and interspersed with what you can only guess are runes.

“I can’t read this,” you tell him, fidgeting with your ring for what you now realize will be the last time.

“I only need your name,” he purrs, and then you feel a fragile weight in your hand: a feather, pearl-black and glossy and too large to belong to any bird you can think of, its angled tip glistening with wet ink. There’s an empty space in the writing before you, and Overhaul’s gloved hand comes to yours again to guide you into place.

This feels wrong…then again, of course it does. Even if you’re getting off relatively easy and just losing your ring rather than your soul, you’re still making a deal with a demon. You sign your name, forcing yourself to think about the future you have ahead of you rather than a disapproving white-bearded caricature of The Man Upstairs wagging his finger at you for haggling with a literal servant of Satan. People have done worse things to survive, haven’t they? It’s just a ring.

You set the feather down and Overhaul sighs, thick black eyelashes obscuring his intense gaze for a moment—and then the contract is gone, leaving your hospital room as blank and sterile as it’s supposed to be (well, aside from the candles and all the other ritual stuff you threw together to summon a demon in the first place).

“Are you going to cure—heal me now?” you ask.

“…Patience, little girl.” He’s pulling his glove off, peeling it down his fingers to bare the pale skin of his hand. You catch your breath and wonder what this is going to feel like, and then the tips of his fingers meet your cheek and—

you stop breathing.

It doesn’t hurt.

Or if it does, you don’t remember the pain a second later when breath floods back into your lungs. What you do feel is energy. Strength in your muscles, blood pumping through your veins, every inhale and exhale as light as a bird and freer. You feel healthy. You’re surprised you even remember what health feels like but you do: it’s like you’ve only been half alive, and now life is surging into you and through you and around you, bubbling up in your core like a spring overflowing. You blink rapidly, thinking you might cry from the sheer pleasure of it, but when you open your mouth it’s laughter that comes out. You’re healthy. You’re alive. You barely notice the IV line literally falling off of your skin because the hole where it entered your vein is sealed shut and healed perfectly.

No more needles. No more hospitals. Even without all the monitors beeping out your heart rate and measuring your vitals, there’s not a shred of doubt in your mind that you’re cured.

“Thank you!” you laugh, looking up at Overhaul and for the first time, not caring that he’s evil incarnate. “I feel—I’m okay! It worked!”

“Of course it did.” His expression is inscrutable, but he lets you have a few moments to enjoy your newfound health.

You roll your shoulders back, flex each muscle you can isolate one by one to test, make fists with your fingers and then run them over your hair, which is already thicker and shinier than it was a moment ago. Your body thrums with energy—you want to run, to feel the ground against your bare feet and the cold night air on your face, and you think you could do it! Your legs are already swinging over the side of your cot, ready to run barefoot out of the hospital if that’s what it takes, but before you can stand up Overhaul’s pushing you back down onto the bed.

“Have you forgotten your end of the bargain already?”

Honestly you did forget, but only for a second, only because you were so excited to just be outside again. “Oh, yeah. Of course.” Your hand goes to your left ring finger, ready to slip the ring off and hand it over, but Overhaul shakes his head.

“Not here.”

“What—?”

You’re falling. Your hospital room is disappearing, the image of your walls and your window and your bed disintegrating into yawning black, and you’re falling through it into nothing, into emptiness, and Overhaul’s still-bare hand in yours is the only anchor you have so you clutch onto it and squeeze your eyes shut. You want to scream—that’s the sane thing to do when you’re falling through miles and miles of empty space, right?—but when you open your throat the sound is swallowed up just like the light was…

Overhaul’s hand burns into yours, an improbable lifeline that you pull closer more out of terror than conscious thought. The slick, empty air rushes around you and you think I am going to die like this and then, incredibly, as soon as you’ve accepted your imminent demise, you feel your back mold onto a chilled, flat surface, vertebra by vertebra up to the back of your head, as if you’ve been lain down onto it.

Your heart thuds in your ears and you brace for an impact because your body hasn’t quite accepted yet that it’s not falling anymore—but at the same time, you know you’re lying down on something. You pry your fingers away from their vice-grip on Overhaul’s arm and feel around blindly for what’s underneath you, and when it seems reasonably tangible you let yourself open your eyes.

Way above, vaulted dozens of feet over your head, is a ceiling studded with gilt-edged frescoes and stained glass. It’s raining (even though it wasn’t in the hospital, you think) but through the massive panes of colored glass there’s enough oily blue light to make out that you’re in a church.

You’re in a church, with a demon. Isn’t that against the rules?

You sit up stiffly and look over at Overhaul, who’s standing at your side and looking down at you…which is how you realize the soft, cold surface you’ve been deposited onto is the blanket on top of the altar in the sanctuary. “Where...did you take me?”

“You should know this place.”

And you do, when you look around. It’s empty now and you’ve never been here at night, but this is a church your mother would bring you to when you were little, back before the disease got so bad you couldn’t risk traveling to it anymore. This is where you took your purity vow…the ring feels heavy on your hand. “Why—why—“

“I can’t stand human hospitals. Filthy places… How that reek of illness and death doesn’t bother your kind, I’ll never understand.” Overhaul pulls his latex glove back on. He’s dressed differently now, no longer impersonating a doctor—black shirt, black pants, and a…bird mask in red leather and gold. So are you, as a matter of fact. Instead of your hospital gown, you’re in a gauzy white dress that’s already been pushed up to pool around the tops of your thighs.

The slip is too thin for the cold, and you can feel your nipples standing up under the cloth so you fold your arms over your chest and hug yourself. “Why did you take me here?” The sound of your voice echoes off the walls eerily and you wish you hadn’t spoken so loudly. The reflection of your words sounds girlish, nervous.

“I told you. Your side of our contract.” Even in this dark, the angular features of his face are clearly concentrating—on you. “Are you already having second thoughts? Such a fickle little thing…”

“You mean the ring?” You reach for it again, ready to tear it off and throw it at him if that’s what it takes to see your deal through, but Overhaul snatches your hand away, pinning it above you.

“Not the ring,” he says. “The promise.”

The…promise?

A chill makes its way down your spine despite the heat radiating off the demon’s body and onto yours. “I don’t understand.”

“The promise,” Overhaul repeats—and you hear a sound almost like wings flapping and then he’s on the altar with you, knees straddling your hips as a single hand holds both your wrists above your head. “To remain a virgin until marriage. Your promise to God.”

A streak of lightning cracks down on the other side of the stained glass window behind the altar, illuminating the room briefly in spectacular pits of red and orange and yellow…and then it’s dark again, and the only color you can make out is the gold in Overhaul’s eyes.

“I’m going to break it,” he murmurs, lowering his head toward your ear right as the answering thunder rolls through the sanctuary, up through the altar, up into you.

///

Méfiez-vous de son piège, the grimoire said. Beware of the catch.

Of course it wasn’t just a ring.

Overhaul’s fingers are in—inside you, his middle and ring finger pumping through the length of your cunt like they belong there, like you were made to be touched this way. A mixture of your juices and your own spit cling to the latex because he made you suck his fingers before he put them in you and he hasn’t bothered to take his gloves off—not that you asked. You’ve been too busy biting your lip to try and muffle the moans that he keeps forcing out of you. He’s bracing himself on top of you with one hand and fingering you with the other, so your own hands are free to push into your eyes and hide your face…until he yanks your arm back and stops.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes are screwed shut and you shake your head back and forth, the movement shuddering your whole body right down to your pussy wrapped around Overhaul’s fingers. He slows the movement and kneels back, pushing one of your thighs up into your chest as he does it.

“Look at me.”

And you’re not sure whether it’s some unearthly power he has over you or the plain old deterioration of your willpower, but you can’t refuse him. You crack your eyes open and he’s glaring down at you, skin pale as ice in the blue light. Once he’s satisfied that you’re watching, the demon leans back in to fuck your cunt with his fingers, slowly at first and then quicker when he hits something inside of you—a spot, a place on the inner wall of your pussy that makes you feel like you’ve been shocked— heat blooms through you like blood in water and you gasp and he curls his fingers up to pet over that spot again.

“Wait—wait, that’s—it feels—weird!” You’ve never felt like this before. You’re not supposed to feel like this, it’s wrong.

“I understand you’ve never touched yourself, but don’t pretend you don’t like it.” Overhaul says, voice as indifferent and calm as ever even though your cunt is dripping clear sticky liquid over the plastic of his glove.

He pushes back in and grinds his palm over the little button on the top of your pussy—your clit?—and you want to scream. “No, I—I don’t—nnhh...”

Do you like it? The demon’s body is so hot next to yours, like he’s running a fever except you’re the one going out of your mind… You’ve heard metaphors for sexual pleasure before (that it’s like having something to drink when you’re dying of thirst; or that it’s the ultimate act of intimacy, love in physical form) but all of that’s a fucking lie. There’s nothing to compare it to, no reference that makes sense, because it doesn’t make sense—you don’t even want him to keep going, do you? You’re only doing this because you signed your name on a devil’s contract, because you don’t want to die and there’s no alternative…but that doesn’t explain why you feel so warm from the inside out, why you’re squirming and your hips are rocking involuntarily no matter how much you try to keep still. This isn’t right. You feel like you’ve been lied to.

A good girl wouldn’t like this.

Overhaul isn’t going to let you close your eyes, so you don’t—but the sounds coming out of your mouth are so…indecent (and how can you think these things about yourself? the word feels like someone else is saying it when you hear it in your head) that your hand is drifting up to your mouth before you can stop yourself, trying to stifle all of it…

“Let your voice out. I want you to hear yourself moan.”

Long fingers slide their way out of your pussy and then move up to rub quick little circles around your clit and you moan, like a whore, like a girl getting her cunt rubbed by a demon— “Oh, uhhhn—something, it’s—coming—“ There’s something building up in your core—a peak, a climax, something that makes you fist your hands in the nightgown he put you in (so tight you’re surprised the thin fabric hasn’t torn) and tilt your hips up into him, begging without words because you don’t have any to express what your body is asking for…

But he doesn’t give it to you. Overhaul takes his hand away from your pussy and the shock of the cool air after his too-hot touch is almost enough to send you over that edge—almost. Not quite. And without it, you’re left shivering and quaking, thighs twitching as your baser instincts beg you to just put your hand between your legs for once and hump your fingers to completion if the demon won’t do it.

You’re not going to risk that, though. Not when Overhaul’s dragging your body closer, bunching up the blanket on the altar under your spine, so your pelvis is angled to his… He’s already shirtless and you hear him unzipping his pants but you can’t bring yourself to actually look at him, even when you feel something hard and hot nudging up against your inner thigh and then aligning to your sticky wet slit.

“This will hurt a bit, but I want you to look,” he says, and you don’t even understand at first until you make yourself feel it—his cock, pushing up against your tight cunt to finish this, this perversion of what your first time was supposed to be…

And what was it supposed to be? Roses and candles and soft kisses? A nameless, faceless husband unzipping your wedding dress and making love to you with the lights off? The way the demon touches you should be cruel in comparison but it isn’t, it’s lighting fires under your skin and turning your brains to mush, so how is your body supposed to tell the difference?

It’ll hurt, you know that, you’ve heard enough about sex to know that it always hurts the first time for girls…women. It was already a stretch to fit his fingers in your virgin pussy, so of course his cock is going to hurt. You turn your head toward the window at your side and try on look out at the rain drawing rivulets like veins over the glass, something to focus on instead of him.

“I said look,” the demon hisses, and his hips push forward a bit and you bite off a whimper of pain. “Watch me take your virginity…look at your tight little cunt swallowing me up just like it was made to.”

“N-No—“ you whine, even though it’s not like you can ignore it. “Don’t make me, don’t make me look, I can’t—“

“Then look at me.”

It’s what he wants, some kind of wicked satisfaction he gets off on, but you’re lucky enough to even get an option so you choose that one, shifting your gaze up into his face instead of the place where his cock is pressing deeper and deeper inside you. Overhaul’s eyes are half-lidded and it’s hard to tell from behind the mask but the look on his face is…pleasure? No, that would be too human. Restraint, at least. He could just thrust up into your body in one stroke, but he wants you to feel it for some reason.

Maybe because it’s a worse betrayal of your chastity if you want to get fucked.

Lucky for you, though, you can barely feel anything aside from the pain. The heat you felt building earlier is draining out of you even as Overhaul tilts deeper, layering his chest over yours. You’re almost grateful for the modest barrier the dress provides between your torso and the solid muscle of his abdomen. His cock in your pussy feels like it’s too big too deep too much and it’s the first time you’ve felt like your body wasn’t created specifically for this purpose so you hold it tight.

“Does it hurt?”

A second of clarity makes you want to snarl (of course it fucking hurts, I’m losing my virginity to a demon I summoned from hell) and you dig your fingernails into your palms to stop yourself from saying it out loud. Overhaul pulls out a fraction of an inch and then pushes back in and you feel like the breath’s being pushed out of your lungs. “Yes! Yes, it—it hurts—“

“I can make you enjoy it…for a price,” he sighs, settling into a slow rocking motion of his hips pushing into yours.

And you want to, every sore muscle in your cunt is telling you to give in and give up, give him what he wants so you can enjoy it like he says—but you’d rather hate every second of this than make another deal. You shake your head quickly and because you’re still too afraid to look away from him, you don’t miss the look of surprise that flits across his face before he tamps it down. “I don’t—I don’t want to—like it,” you gasp out between thrusts. “It’s better if—if it h-hurts…”

This time it’s obvious—his eyes really do widen, and you feel some petty triumph at having caught him off guard like this. Who’s predictable now? you think—and then he’s lifting one hand off the altar at the side of your head and tugging his glove off with his teeth, and you don’t even have time to be afraid of what he’s going to do to you because it’s too late, his bare fingers are already stroking over your mound and onto your core, massaging into the flesh of your stomach so he can feel his own cock sliding in and out of you—

and it doesn’t hurt anymore?

You only have a second to try and understand—he cured you, he healed the pain from your first time just like he healed your illness?—before he hooks his grip under your thigh and folds your legs into your chest so he can fuck into you harder than before. His cock slaps into your pussy and you can hear it, hear how wet your filthy little cunt is, smeared through with your juices. It’s sick—the sound of skin against skin, and the moaning you can’t hold back, you sound like a woman in a porno and you wish the pain would come back just so you could keep hating what he’s doing to you. “What—what did you do—“

The demon ignores you. “It feels good, doesn’t it.”

“Nn—“ It’s deeper like this…deeper and rougher and you can feel it. Now that the pain’s been reduced to the dull ache of a stretched muscle, you can feel everything—his cock sliding against that same spot in your cunt that makes you want to squeal, the friction of his body moving against your clit, all of it, everything you wanted to block out— he pumps into you and you hear your breath sobbing out a moan a second out of rhythm, the sounds of you bouncing on demon cock echoing over the walls. “Please—ah, ahhh…”

“‘Please?’ Are you begging—me, little girl?” Overhaul pushes your thigh up and drags his cock through you, excruciatingly slow, forcing you to feel the thick head slide over every gummy wall in your slick pussy.

You shake your head, mewl, try to force your hips to stop rocking back into his and grinding your clit against him. But you can’t. You’re a—you were a virgin, for fuck’s sake! Overhaul’s immortal. Probably thousands of years of experience on how to make you feel like you want this, like you’re only alive in the places he touches you… You’re at his mercy, if he has any. You never stood a chance.

“Then are you begging your god?” His body lowers directly onto yours and like you’re being controlled by puppet strings your arms fold around him and rake your fingernails uselessly into the smooth skin of his back. You can feel the vibration of his mirthless laughter through his chest. “It must hurt terribly…to know he isn’t listening.”

“Don’t—stop, please,” you sob. “Don’t say—don’t stop—please!”

“Listen to yourself, girl—“ Overhaul’s breath is faster now, but you don’t have time to question it because you feel your peak coming again, the tension rising up through your cunt and your abdomen, harsher and crueler than when his fingers were in you but you want it just as much. More. “Has he ever answered your prayers? Has he...ahh, fuck—who’s the one giving you what you need?”

“No— please, please just let me let me, please—“ You’re talking nonsense now, begging for the release—at least then it’ll be over, and you need it, you need it so badly you feel your muscles locking up, cramping, your ankles crossing each other behind Overhaul’s back.

“Good girl,” the demon breathes, and then he lifts off you so he’s kneeling upright with the two of you still connected, his thick, heavy cock still speared in your pussy, and his fingers come down again to rub at your clit. Everything’s so wet you can hear the motion of his fingers slicking themselves through your juices, sliding up and down the little button over and over and it feels so good that a tiny part of you almost wants to drag it out, to savor it, but the rest of your body is going to die, is going to go crazy if the demon doesn’t let you cum right now, right now, right now!

And he does. Praise the Lord. The pads of Overhaul’s fingers pass over your clit one last time and your head rolls back, your throat moves but you can’t even make a sound, your legs shake and you cum.

You didn’t know it was like this.

Your cunt squeezes down on his cock, throbbing and pulsing and your toes literally curl (you didn’t think that was a real thing!) and your vision goes black for a moment and—oh fuck oh fuck i want this i want more how is it possible that i’ve never felt like this—you understand, more intimately than ever, why sex is wrong:

because nothing that makes you feel this good could possibly come without a cost, could it?

///

It must take longer than you thought for you to come back to your senses, because when you regain awareness of your body you’re in your hospital bed. You’re clean, too, and you wonder for a second if Overhaul bothered to clean you up? Or no…he probably just snapped his fingers and transported you back to your room. You’re not really sure how it works.

What you are sure of, however, is that you just got fucked by a demon. You’re sore in places that you didn’t know it was possible to be sore, and there are already bruises forming on the flesh of your thighs from how tight he was holding you. You don’t really have time to inspect these, though, because apparently your…ordeal (if you can call it that) isn’t over.

Overhaul’s still here.

He’s facing the hints of sunrise through the east window, dressed again in the immaculate lab coat and surgeon’s mask. “You’re awake,” he says without looking at you.

You nod hesitantly. You’re not really sure what the protocol is in this situation, but at least you’ve finally held up your side of the contract, right? And so has he. Despite having been up all night doing sinful things, you’re still itching to get out of this bed and test the limits of your healthy body. “You’re…going to leave, right?”

“Yes—”

At that, you sigh in relief and settle back into your starched bedsheets.

“But there’s one more thing you owe me.”

“Goddamnit,” you swear for the very first time in your life. After what you just did, taking the Lord’s name in vain seems like a relatively minor sin.

Overhaul’s mildly irritated expression doesn’t change, but he holds his hand out to you, palm up, the way you imagine someone would if they were helping you out of a car or requesting a dance at an old-fashioned ball. And really, you want all of this to be over—you want to get out of this hospital, you want to taste what the air outside is like, you want to distract yourself from what you just gave up in exchange for a future. At this point you’re just going to have to hope God isn’t as picky about the whole premarital sex thing as you grew up believing.

So you put your hand in Overhaul’s.

Slowly, carefully, like he’s afraid it’ll burn him, he slides your purity ring down your finger and balances it in the palm of his bare hand. It sizzles when he touches it, glowing orange until it eventually burns down into a ash-black circle in the center of his palm. Once he’s satisfied that your pretty little ring has been reduced to nothing more than a scorch mark, he closes his hand around yours and you feel something sharp, painfully hot, etching onto your finger.

It’s over in a second, but you still yelp and yank your hand away from him as soon as he lets you. “Ah—ow, what was that?”

He burned you, he literally burned you! He’s already healed it, but there’s still a thin, pale scar, an intentional one left wrapping around the skin at the base of your left ring finger. Like a wedding ring.

When you look close, you can make out a symbol on the back of your finger where the cross used to sit—and even though your conscious mind doesn’t recognize it, the sight of it rings out something inside your ribcage, deeper and truer than flesh and blood. It’s the devil’s mark, you think. It’s his.

“…A promise,” Overhaul says softly, and even though it’s a chilly morning, you can feel the heat of his hands on yours a long time after he vanishes back into the dark.

#overhaul x reader #chisaki kai x reader #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #mha imagines #tw dubcon #tw sacrilege #tw christianity #overhaul #chisaki kai #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia x reader #boku no hero imagines #my hero academia x reader #my hero imagines #boku no hero fanfic #smut

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todourouki · 4 years ago

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↲ Back to my BNHA Masterlist

i crash, u crash.

SUMMARY: Being with Dabi wasn’t easy and it probably never will be, but he just wants to make sure you’ll stick around. Or in which Dabi tries his best to show you he cares about you.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: based off i crash, u crash by lil peep! lol honestly idk about this one. but welcome back gift for me, from me, to you <3

PAIRING: Boyfriend!Dabi & Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT: 5,476

WARNINGS: Explicit Content, Dabi is toxic, Angst*, NSFW [18+] including spitting, slight daddy kink, squirting, slight overstimulation.

Sex with Dabi was always the same.

Routinely speaking, whenever he was back from a mission was the time you were expected to be on all fours waiting for his attention. It was always rough too, nothing short of angry and aggressive even if it was a form of “love-making.” He could call it what he wanted to though, he knew the universal term for his type of sex was simply fucking.

The positions and their timings were always on schedule. No more than 3 minutes in missionary— all the time in the world doing everything else. You never really got to touch him, and he’s never let you see his face when he came.

The relationship of hot and fiery sex mixed with an unrequited form of codependency grew to an actual romantic one somehow between the days and nights spent together, yet nothing of the dynamic ever changed. The only thing you could recall is that he groggily asked of you to “finally be his girlfriend since you already acted like it.”

Dabi was a complicated person. You never knew if he planned on waking up and deciding he wanted to be single, and honestly the day he decided to do such a thing wouldn’t be a surprise to you. He was an avid participator in the league of breaking hearts and even if you had more than enough knowledge on this, you allowed his sneaky smirk to seduce you into the sheets of his bed and hours of his days.

You eventually found yourself moving in, figuring out that he refused to sleep without the air conditioner on, never wore socks around the house, used way too much salt on his eggs, and never managed to close the curtains after he got out the shower. Above all that though, he never changed the way he fucked you.

Dabi loves you, of course you never had to question it or get reassurance. He showed you in minuscule ways such as stealing bringing you your favorite snacks after a long day without you, doing things such as buying double of what he gets from store runs because you’re in his mind all day, and telling you he’ll be safe for you once he walks out the door. He never says I love you, but he doesn’t need to.

It’s hard to get someone like him to change the way they are, so when you’re sitting on your shared bed flipping through a magazine and see a couples quiz linger across the page, you can’t help but try to feed yourself crumbs of his affection you know you’ll spend a lifetime searching for.

“How long did it take for you to realize you like me?” You broke the silence, squinting at the duo-skin toned man slouched across the wooden headboard.

You heard him chuckle, blinking longly at you with amusement glimmering within his cerulean irises. It wasn’t rare for Dabi to mock you for asking such a thing, but it was a rare moment for you to glare at him deadpanned and genuinely waiting for an answer. It fucking confused him.

“As long as it took you to make me cum the first time.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring his comment enough to make him furrow his eyebrows. It wasn’t like you to not retaliate back, you were always quick to snap back at him. Hearing nothing but his own breathing as you skipped through pages made him furrow his eyebrows. He wanted to ask if you were okay— he really did, but then you’d think he cared.

And Dabi would be a terrible person if he let you know he cared.

The silence was nearly overbearing, nearly deafening in his ears as he tried his hardest to focus on anything but your serious expression haunting him in the back of his mind. Things like this rarely bothered him. It goes to say that Dabi was rarely ever bothered.

Sure, you never asked for much reassurance and never even did as much as ask if he meant it when he asked you out mid-nap, but he really did. Sure, you lived off the whim of thinking it was, but at least the raven haired man knew it was. Right?

The sound of the magazine slamming shut and getting thrown somewhere onto the bed broke Dabi of his thoughts. “I’m gonna’ pee.” You announced, mostly to no one in particular because your soft eyes refused to meet his own. Another rare occurrence.

You lied to Dabi for the first time in your life. Did you really have to pee? Of course not. Did you have to cry in the bathroom for a quick 2 seconds to release the pent up frustration of utter confusion? Of course you did. It was annoying— living with someone and only getting treated as if you were anything in the slightest to him when his dick was inside of you. He only ever fucks you rough and never lets you see his face, and he expects you to believe he wants to be with you?

After cleaning your solemn face from dry tears, your body grudgingly made its way out the bathroom and to the bed. Your presence within the studio was clear, panties strewn across the open drawers mixed with Dabi’s briefs, shoes tucked neatly compared to Dabi’s boots tossed lazily near the door, and perfume bottles layering up against the old brown dresser. You took a quick glance at a picture of you hanging on the wall, a familiar raven-headed man’s arms wrapped around your head as he towered over your frame with his head resting across your head.

It was never worth the confusion.

“Why were you crying?” His dark voice rang out, making you slightly flinch as you dented the soft mattress with your frame.

A quick shake of the head will do, you thought to yourself as you followed your own orders. You knew Dabi wouldn’t push to find out what was wrong, he never does. And he doesn’t, lips shut as he takes a drag from some cigarette he’s smoking and giving you a longing look of aggravation. It’s even less of a surprise for him to do such a thing.

“If you have something to tell me, then I suggest you do it.” If you hadn’t known Dabi for as long as you do, you’d probably assume he was being condescending and outright rude. Because you do know him though, you know that’s exactly how he’s trying to come off to you.

You dreaded it. The eventual confrontation that was inevitable from the moment you accepted to be his girlfriend— it all led to this moment in space and time. You felt exactly how you predicted you’d feel, sick and intimidated. Not necessarily by Dabi because you know he’d never hurt you, but intimidated by the fact that it’s as easy as 1-2-3 for him to up and leave depending on your answer.

“What are we, Dabi?” And there it goes, 1-2-3.

It was like hearing a pin drop. Nobody moved, nobody spoke, nobody did anything for the first three seconds following the ultimatum. He knew he had two options: answer genuinely and reveal information he’d die before releasing, or leave you high and dry yet again for his own benefit when it comes to the mere idea of using words he doesn’t use in bed.

Staring into your eyes never scared him, he cremating people for a living, but knowing that lying behind them were tears falling for your reflection rather than on his shoulder caused a pang to hit his chest. It was unfamiliar and unusual, but looking at your body begin to leave its space in the bed in frustration with his quietness made him snap. You were serious for the first time.

“I’m not going to repeat myself.” Your words were harsh, harsher than usual and you yourself couldn’t even tell where this newfound energy came from.

You were okay. You were okay with whatever this complicated situationship was, and you probably would have still been okay with it if you hadn’t gotten too deep in over your head and let his words get to you. Him saying he realized he liked you coincidentally while you fucked should be above you, yet here you are.

“Jesus doll, relax.” He taunted, hands reaching out to grab your arm in a fit of confusion and annoyance, “just come back to bed Y/N.”

You felt it - the minute he touched your arm and released the tiniest bit of heat coming off his palm - just how tense he was becoming. He knew once you put your mind to something, it was difficult to get you to move away from it. He knew that there was no escaping this conversation.

It was inevitable really, the fact that one day (which was, unfortunately for him, today) you would question the legitimacy of his emotions for you. You were carefree just like him, that’s why he fell for you. But you were also blunt. If you felt a way, you were going to say it and that’s that.

Easily, the scarred hand gripping onto your arm slid over to your clenched jaw. You didn’t mean to give him a hard time for not looking his way—with the way his fingers squeezed deep into your skin and tilted your head towards him, you knew you did. It almost repulsed you with how obedient your body was to his touch, glancing at him with no shame other than the dried tears threatening to spill over.

“I’m gonna tell you the one time and I’ll never repeat myself,” he threatened, voice treading amongst angry waters as his blue eyes bored into yours, “I’m serious.”

You stood your ground, eyes taking away from your scowling expression as they swirled in curiosity. It didn’t take much to make you lower your frame onto the edge of the bed, a sigh escaping your lips as you pulled the t-shirt past your exposed panties.

“I don’t say much when it comes to you, or even to when it’s about you—but you’re all I am.” Your eyebrows furrowed, clear confusion written in your face.

“What does tha—” “I’m talking.” Dabi’s aggravated expression never left, not even with the joint hoisted between his lips in nothing but frustration.

“I got nothing to give you, nothing but collected calls from jail and maybe some jewelry I stole cause I got bored. I don’t have any money, anything to my name, and nothing but a spot on the police and hero department’s most wanted list.” His words made you frown, the clear self-depreciation outweighing the cocky and arrogant attitude you once knew to belong to the man infront of you.

“I can’t look you in the eye, show you my face when you milk my cock clean— can’t do shit like that,” Dabi’s smirk was quick to appear, your eyes rolling as you met his serious gaze yet again, “probably won’t be able to take you out the country either unless we run far, far away from here.”

“But nothing I say or do will ever express the way I feel about you.” And now it’s Dabi’s turn for the 1-2-3 process, because that statement in itself made your brain stop working.

Your brain couldn’t comprehend the fact that Dabi’s free hand was circling your bare thigh, moving closer and closer to where he most felt at home. His words never faltered though, only slightly pausing to smoothly slip his hands onto the soaked folds of pink lace.

His words were thrown against empty ears. You couldn’t focus on the words flowing within the room due to the ever-growing heartbeat pulsing between your thighs. Dabi’s hand sank into your leg, heat splitting between your skin enough to hiss and throw your head back.

“From this perfect pussy,” he applied pressure to the space between your legs, the wet patch inducing a smile from his once blank expesssion. The sudden contact caused a gasp to slip from your panting lips. Almost instinctively, Dabi pressed his thumb against your tongue, “to this smart ass mouth, it’s all I need to wake up in the morning.”

Your mind was now blank. All you could think about was the feelings of Dabi's heated fingertips dancing against the confining cotton of your panties. He always had the ability of doing this to you— dumbifying you with nothing but the pads of his fingertips and making you beg for his tongue.

Watching you pant under him nearly made the expressionless man shudder in pleasure. Dabi wasnt a liar, anything and everything he's ever said being some mangled up verbal example of his brain. He was far from the type to express his feelings, show anything other than smugness and oversuimulation, and dedicate his entire life to another person.

He was far from the type, yet managed to become a perfect example of a significant other who's life slowly but surely becomes solely to live for another person. The other person in this situation, was you.

You felt him begin to leave swollen burn bubbles on the outer layer of your skin, legs shaking in a way that brought the two of you out of your racing minds.

His motions stopped, yet hands showed no intention on moving from its current place. He was staring at you intensely - as intensely as he could - to assert his egotistical dominance but you knew the truth.

And as Dabi lowered your frame into the soft, plush white sheets, he realized he knew the truth as well. Your eyes were dazed, irises looking at all of him at the same time as your body swallowed in his touch and he knew. Dabi knows deep down no matter how much taller, bigger, or dominant he ever tried to be, he would worship the ground you walked on with the blink of an eye.

Your hands found his cold cheeks, tongue still stuck to your bottom lip with Dabi's harsh finger circling the pink muscle. Not a word was said, or per say, not a single word needed to be said. The energy surrounding the one-roomed apartment was enough for the two of them.

Before you, Dabi was known to be something of a martyr. He fooled women, toying with their souls the same way he toyed with their bodies and cried trauma when they threatened to leave. He kept a string on every one he ever fucked, being cautious enough to keep them at the heel of his feet for a fun time when he felt he had enough of you.

Then, he got addicted. He drowned in your drive, finding for the first time in his life some sort of comfort. Your natural warmth, your smile, your understanding— you were someone Dabi would find himself laughing at for thinking they actually existed.

"You're gonna get tired of me one day," he bitterly smiled, eyeing you deep into your skull with nothing but sadness laced in an angry distraction, "you're gonna find some hero and leave me here all on my own."

He wanted to think he wouldn't care. If the time where you decided to go back to the better things in life, leave a lowlife villain who wants to destruct the government, and live a rich healthy lifestyle, he knew you didn't do anything less but deserve it. You were too good for him, better than anyone he's ever known in his life for as long as he'd live.

With a soft whimper, your hands turned his head from his lowered expression over to your soft eyes. He hated how quick you got him to look at you, and he especially hated how quick you made his breath stop.

"Hey," you whispered, soft smile still glowing even though you realized he had intentionally lowered his voice as well as his lips from your sight. The vulnerable expression the raven-haired man was trying his hardest to not get you to see brought a rough pang to your chest.

"You crash, I crash. Always."

Your words hit him, and boy did they hit Dabi hard. The time it took for the word always to softly slip off your tongue was just enough time for Dabi to realize the depth of your words.

They were the same ones that fell between your lips when he thought he was dying, when you thought you were dying, and now. Dabi was complex - that was evident - but he was also the simplest man you knew. All he ever really needed was some reassurance.

It was long before his fingers found their way into your scalp, slipping over the crevices of your neck and gripping onto the back of your head as if his life depended on it. All you could do was gasp.

"Can I touch you?" The words were like a record scratch, repeating through the scarred man's brain all too much to keep anyone sane.

He couldn't tell if it was the slur of your words, or if it was your soft hands running across his thick shoulders as the words whispered into his ears— whatever it was made him take up the obligation of doing anything and everything you said.

It wasn't soon before you found yourself slamming your lips against his, the sensation causing you both to moan. You couldn't tell the difference between his hands and yours, tangled limbs falling deep into the plush comforter covering your shared bed. His weight above you did nothing but encourage you to wrap your bare limbs against his now shirtless one on, hands running through the raven locks above your head.

The minute you felt the heated pads of his fingertips lower themselves down your abdomen, your head shook underneath his and caused him to part his lips from its home on yours.

"Hmph," you groaned, pouting as your hands traveled down to his jeans and began to fiddle with the zipper, "I want to feel you in me now."

Dabi was used to being in control. He was used to ordering your body around, telling you what to do and how to do it. In the bedroom, Dabi made the orders. So when he parted his lips from yours and stood over your body with his scarred hands shoving his pants down his thighs, you couldn't do anything less than moan. Knowing he was taking what you said into consideration brought chills to your skin.

"You sure you're ready for this, sweetheart?" He smirked, legs coming out of the restricting jeans he wore and leaving his tall and lean frame in nothing but gray briefs.

Dabi had a lot to brag about, in the most respectful way possible.

Your hands clawed at his waistband, giggling as you pulled his body all the way back to its original position of resting above you and let the underwear go with a loud smack. Being eye to eye with someone like Dabi was scary, no point in denying that. Her there was something about it that just drove the two of you insane— and he couldn't tell if I was anything short of love.

He silenced himself, attaching his lips to yours and preoccupying a hand into pulling his briefs down just enough. And by just enough, it meant just enough to brush your clothed clit as his painfully hard cock stretched up to his stomach. You couldn’t do anything but flinch, hands reaching out to grip his thick girth and slap it across your clothed pussy.

“Let me do it.” You smiled, eyes boring into Dabi’s own blue ones. Your free hand slipped your panties to the side, his mushroom tip dancing against the rim of your wet hole and causing the two of you to release a soft groan into one another’s face.

If there was one thing Dabi would never get tired of, it would be the feeling of your velvet walls sucking his dick closer into you. Nothing short of sensation hit him the minute your hands shoved the head in, and his almost fell inlove with the view of you watching his large length disappear into your own heaven.

It was hard for you to not cum from his entrance. Even as he bottomed out, your teeth sealing a scream from leaving your throat by pressing into his shoulder, did you realize just how big Dabi was. No matter how skinny, lean, and weightless he seemed, the girth and length on Dabi’s third leg when he was stuffing himself into you never failed to surprise you. Even through the self-inflicted pain of going into this without foreplay, you knew there was nothing that would ever fill you up as amazing as Dabi does.

“Fuuuck,” you dragged out into his earlobe, tongue licking a strip of his patched skin from your bite-mark to the lobe of his pierced ears, “you’re so big.”

He couldn’t help but whimper (another thing on Dabi’s list or shit he doesn’t do but now does because of you), the feeling of your tongue circling his ear as your pussy gripped onto his fleeting cock nearly felt like too much. It didn’t help that you were moaning and whispering in his ear with nothing but pure sex laced in your words.

“You know,” he breathed out, beginning to create a routine with his hips bottoming harshly into your cervix and slowly dragging out in a timely fashion, “this is the best pussy I’ve ever had.”

He thinks it’s a compliment, but really it stirs awake the competitive bone in your body. You ignore it though like you always do, choosing to appreciate the fact that he considers you the best at atleast something.

His hand gripped onto your neck, bringing neon stars and dots of blackness to conceal your view of cerulean eyes. Nothing but the lewd sounds of Dabi pushing his dick into your wet hole filled the room, sprinkles of your whimpers and his groans mixing amongst the darkness of the apartment.

Dabi was trouble. He never felt in control of his feelings, never knew what he would want in life, and never bothered to consider living for someone other than himself. It’s moments like these with you though, that makes him realize the God he wakes up thinking about rests between the gap in the middle of your heavenly thighs. He’d killed people before, but the power you held over him was enough to make him consider killing everyone on earth if you’d ask.

You felt him begin to grow impatient, hips pounding into your frame and causing your body to jolt up and down harshly. Words couldn’t describe how amazing Dabi felt inside of you right now. His tip crushed your cervix within every thrust, and it was Dabi’s fingers that lifted your gaping face from the trance of watching him fuck into you to his own face.

“I-I cant.” You began to slip out, tears growing against your eyes as Dabi’s hot fingers began to flick your swollen clit. You swear it’s only been like ten minutes, or maybe Dabi’s huge dick pushing against your cervix was beginning to fuck you stupid. “You’re gonna’ make me cum— make me cum too fast daddy.” You cried out, fingers dragging against the stapled back as you felt Dabi purposely drag one of the piercings located on his tip across your pulsating velvet walls. It was almost too good to be true, and you couldn’t help yourself from kicking his waist over you and forcing his body underneath you. He didn’t even have the courtesy to wipe the smirk off his sweating face.

“Get to work, doll.”

You knew why he spoke to you with such condensation. You also knew exactly why his hands pressed into your ass cheeks as you found your home on top of his bare lap. His scarred torso leaned against the black bed frame, and you decided right then and there that Dabi deserved to get his brains fucked out. So you did exactly what he told you to do— you got to work.

You were wet enough to take him some more, knees straining as you finally pushed his length deep into your stomach. The silent scream that left your lips didn’t go unnoticed though, your fingers that now gripped his cheeks pressing between his lips to keep his teasing menstruations to himself. Dabi’s eyes couldn’t come off your body, and honestly he wished they never had to.

Keeping a grip on your stomach and your ass cheek, an enflamed slap brought a powerful burn across your ass cheek and caused you to jolt against his penis.

“Jesus Dabi, a-are you trying to kill me?” You weakly pleaded, and it didn’t take long for your fucked our expression to start slurring your words.

The sound of you dropping your frame onto his body filled the room, your hips rolling against your clothed clit and bringing sensation you weren’t sure if you could handle. You were trying to focus, but the feeling of Dabi heating a hand up across your ass and slowly beginning to meet your thrusts caused your brain to jumble into a mess of nothing but him.

“Fuck, baby you look so good when you start to get stupid.” He smirked, lips running against the cleavage of your bouncing breasts and lazily sucking on the moving nipple in front of him.

You wanted to fight back, and you wanted to defend yourself against him thinking you we’re starting to get stupid. You really wanted to— the only issue being that you couldn’t. You couldn’t the minute Dabi found a way to meet your thrusts and roughly tilt your neck back up towards the ceiling.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Was all you could cry out as you began to grow impatient in your lower abdomen. It just felt too good. And as if to add injury to insult, your walls began to clamp up from the feeling you knew was coming soon. Dabi paid the price.

You’d never seen his eyes get this wide, eyebrows furrowed as his mouth gaped open in shock. His eyes found its way down, the sight of your pussy gripping and swallowing his dick back in and out being something he wishes he could see all day and that’s when Dabi realizes that he is inlove with everything about you.

“It’s like your perfect pussy was made for me, baby.” He whimpered out, smirking between hooded eyes as he struggled to regain some of his consciousness. You were way too good at bouncing on his dick, and he couldn’t help but begin to meet your thrusts with more precision as he felt himself near orgasm.

“A-all for you! Always all- always all for you daddy!” You cried out, voice struggling to come out as you threw your hands against Dabi’s chest and began to bounce as if your life depends on it.

You hate doing all the work, honestly you really do dislike it. But this has been the longest Dabi has allowed you to ride him and the feeling of you literally milking his cock at your own disposal was an offer too good to ruin.

“I know it’s all for me, princess.” He whimpered out, a hand gripping the back of your neck and pulling it low enough to slam your chapped lips against his own. “Wanna know something, baby?”

The words vibrating against your own moans got lost in the sound, your headboard forcibly slamming against the wall only louder as every other thrust from you gradually grew rougher with your urge to cum. Your brain couldn’t do anything less than feverishly nod, hands slipping back onto your body and allowing Dabi to drill into you from underneath. Gasps slipped out of your parted lips with a hand gripping his black hair and the other begging to rub your own clit.

“You crash, I crash forever, right baby?” He moaned out, the words entering your ears and making you cry out with tears finally spilling down your eyes from nothing but intense pleasure.

“Fuck yes daddy, forever!” You cried out, body beginning to hunch over as you felt the pressure in your stomach compared to the way Dabi slammed into you become too much.

“Good, doll,” he moaned, pushing you so far into him, the heartbeat in your pussy was sure to be vibrating onto the veins of his dick, “so do me a favor.”

Everything happened much too fast, your dizzy state only increasing as Dabi grabbed your body harshly and tossed you back underneath him. There you were again, tossed carelessly under him with your legs trembling and pussy stuffed with all of Dabi in his glory. His lips found our ear again, licking your lobe and sucking on it right after.

“Cream all over my cock so I can stuff you up with my kids, deal?” He smirked into you, jolting into you as soon as the last word resonated on all ears.

Soon enough, he found it in himself to thrust into you like never before. You could barely breath, gasping for air as you felt your vagina began to vibrate due to stage of pleasure you were in. And just like that, your body began to run from the overstimulation of Dabi’s hot finger rubbing roughly against your clit as he drills your frame into the crevices of your mattress.

“Da-daddy I’m gonna’....” The words just couldn’t come out— he was begging to fuck you dumb.

You couldn’t feel nothing but Dabi’s dick pound into you, and if this was all you felt before you fell into a sex-coma than fuck it. It will forever and always be worth it.

It was like you were starting to see white. The feeling of one of his hands now roughly gripping your drooling expression closer to his face made you scream in pleasure, Dabi’s smirk leaving only to release a trail of saliva from his throat into the back of yours. You swallowed it with no hesitation, some of the residue slipping through your lips in a mix with your own spit as you began to drool at the feeling of his tip hitting that one spot over and over again.

And that’s when you felt it. You felt the build up, the pressure of holding back becoming too much as you belted into a mess of tears and tried to push his body off your own.

“No baby,” he roughly said, milking his cock into you even harder and rubbing pressured circles into your clit until a strong snapped within you and you saw nothing but white.

You weren’t sure if it was a sub-space you had entered, or some fucked up version of heaven people who just for their brains fucked out go, but either option felt like fair-game the minute your pussy began to squirt a mess of cum and other liquids from the space Dabi still found himself intruding. If anything boosted his confidence, it was this right here.

“Fuck yes baby, squirt for daddy,” he smirked, rubbing you harder and harder as your felt your body stiffen at the overstimulation, “fuck, you’re so hot.”

As soon as you, Dabi found himself cumming harder than he ever had, lips only being able to cry out a mantra of your name. He knew sex with you was amazing— but this was a new high he doesn’t think he’d ever went to let go of. He didn’t even have the energy to lift himself out of you, small drips of cum able to slip out of your swollen pussy making you flinch in both overstimulation and pain. The cockwarming brought chills to your arm, body sprawled underneath Dabi’s panting frame in nothing but a fucked our expression.

You felt him lift his head up, eyes glancing over your puffy closed ones and being able to do nothing more than steal a kiss from your tongue-licked lips. He knows the difference between “fucked-out” you and “genuinely-knocked-out” you, and you knew he knew the difference too. But he acted as if he didn’t.

And before Dabi could pass out on top of your sweaty and sticky frame, words he mumbled into your shoulder nearly burned into your skin. At least, just enough to make your pussy and lips twitch in nothing but contentness.

I crash, you crash. Forever and always.

Sex with Dabi was always the same— sure. It was rough, messy, and painfully over-stimulating, but it was Dabi, and it was more than enough for you.

Your mind was now blank. All you could think about was the feelings of Dabi’s heated fingertips dancing against the confining cotton of your panties. He always had the ability of doing this to you— dumbifying you with nothing but the pads of his fingertips and making you beg for his tongue.

Watching you pant under him nearly made the expressionless man shudder in pleasure. Dabi wasnt a liar, anything and everything he’s ever said being some mangled up verbal example of his brain. He was far from the type to express his feelings, show anything other than smugness and oversuimulation, and dedicate his entire life to another person.

He was far from the type, yet managed to become a perfect example of a significant other who’s life slowly but surely becomes solely to live for another person. The other person in this situation, was you.

You felt him begin to leave swollen bubbles on the outer layer of your skin, legs shaking in a way that brought the two of you out of your racing minds.

Your hands found his cold cheeks, tongue still stuck to your bottom lip with Dabi’s harsh finger circling the pink muscle. Not a word was said, or per say, not a single word needed to be said. The energy surrounding the one-roomed apartment was enough for the two of them.

“You’re gonna get tired of me one day,” he bitterly smiled, eyeing you deep into your skull with nothing but sadness laced in an angry distraction, “you’re gonna find some hero and leave me here all on my own.”

He wanted to think he wouldn’t care. If the time where you decided to go back to the better things in life, leave a lowlife villain who wants to destruct the government, and live a rich healthy lifestyle, he knew you didn’t do anything less but deserve it. You were too good for him, better than anyone he’s ever known in his life for as long as he’d live.

“Hey,” you whispered, soft smile still glowing even though you realized he had intentionally lowered his voice as well as his lips from your sight. The vulnerable expression the raven-haired man was trying his hardest to not get you to see brought a rough pang to your chest.

“You crash, I crash. Always.”

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softjakehoon · 3 years ago

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Remember Me pt. 2

Pairing: y/n and jay

includes: fluff? angst if you think hard enough lol, suggestive behaviour, friends with benefits with jay?? jealousy?

ps: there will be more smut to this story, I just have to build up y/n and jay’s friendship first. stay tuned for the next update!!

Read part 1 here.

You both took your time in fixing your fucked out looks before returning to the living area. Jay immediately grabbed your waist, assisting you to sit on the couch.

"Are you okay, y/n? I shouldn't have given you a drink, I always forget how easily you get drunk every time. I'm sorry, love." Jay gave you an apologetic look. And being the caring best friend he is, he stayed by your side making sure you're comfortable the whole night. Meanwhile, both you and Jake have been exchanging looks and smiles at each other. It’s not like it wasn’t obvious, Jay definitely sensed that something has happened between you two. Although he doesn’t want to go too far as to where both of you had sex already. This is literally your first time hanging out with his friend and he knows you’re not the type of person to sleep around guys you’re not in a relationship with. He knows you like the back of his hand, he thought to himself. His hands caressing your left knee to comfort you through the night.

By 11 pm, most of Jay's visitors had gone home. Heeseung left a couple of minutes ago saying he has somewhere to go. Sunghoon and Jake also said their goodbyes to both you and Jay.

"Y/n, come on. Let's go to bed already, you need to rest." You almost forgot Jay's presence due to the alcohol in your system. You both went to his room, Jay carefully placing you on his bed.

"Let me clean your face, y/n. just lay there, I'll take care of you." He always did this. Every time you slept over to his place, he took care of you as if you guys were a married couple. He carefully wiped your makeup with some makeup wipes, making sure you won't sleep with makeup and dirt on your face. He grabbed one of his t-shirts and placed it beside you.

"Arms up, love. You need to change your clothes into something more comfortable.” You obeyed him like a puppy. He has seen you in your undies before so you didn't mind taking your shirt off in front of him. You suddenly remembered that you weren't wearing anything underneath your dress. You were thankful that your lower body was covered in his blanket so he wouldn't see your core. You realized this is the first time he is seeing you topless, but you were too wasted to care.

Jay looked flustered at the sight in front of him, you thought it was cute since you know he always sees girls naked anyway, why is he acting this way?

"You're blushing." You teased him.

"I'm not. stop it, hurry up already. Aren’t you cold?" You finally put on his shirt. Jay is so much taller than you are so whenever you wear his shirts, you look like you're wearing a dress so your lower area will still be covered, you thought to yourself.

"I'll wash up first, drink some water and take the medicine on the bedside table. You'll thank me tomorrow, love." He kissed your forehead and then proceeded to the bathroom after making sure you're all tucked in and comfortable.

You stared at the ceiling for god knows how long. Your mind wandered to the thought of what happened between you and Jake earlier. The sex was beyond amazing, though you felt uncomfortable sleeping with someone you barely even know. You never understood Jay’s fuckboy image, how does he do this every single time? You didn’t like asking him too much about his flings or girlfriends so you don’t actually know much about them.

“Oh god, was that a one-time thing as well?” Your mind is panicking from the thought. You didn’t get the chance to ask for his contact number or to clarify the status between you two. You clearly told him that you like him, but he didn’t say anything back. You cursed yourself. You've always been like this, so easy to give yourself to someone, to trust them with all your emotions and everything you've got. You grabbed a fistful of your hair out of frustration, unfortunately, Jay clearly saw your annoyance.

"What's wrong, y/n? Does your head hurt? Come here, I'll help you fall asleep.” He laid beside you and let you rest your head on his chest.

Jay is a sensitive person. He knows that you’re putting up a facade. He can see through all the changes in your expression but he’s not gonna ask you to open up if you’re uncomfortable with it. For now, he wants to savor this moment. Ever since you both went to different universities you barely had time to bond with each other. When was the last time you slept over to his place? When was the last time he saw you wearing his shirt while you’re all comfortable in his bed? When was the last time he held you trapped in his arms? You were clingy, he wasn’t. But you were the only person he loves to cuddle with.

You continued to snuggle up to his chest, relaxing to the slow beating of his heart. “I’m sorry for not behaving tonight. Not gonna happen again.” You pouted at him.

“Why? You were pretty behaved in my opinion. Except for exposing me earlier. Unless.. Don’t tell me- did you do something behind my back?” Jay tilts his head, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Wha- noooo. I didn’t do anything. Jake and I just went to the balcony to get some fresh air.” You tried to act innocent. You don’t want to let him know about what happened between you and Jake, not when you don’t know what really just happened.

“I didn’t know you were that close.” Jay tried to sound as normal as he could. Why is he getting nervous all of a sudden?

“He seems like a nice guy. We just talked about you and your sex life, tbh. He said a lot of pretty embarrassing things, you know.” You chuckled, you had no choice but to lie for now. Hopefully, he plays around.

“What? Sex life? What did he say?” He looked at you with wide eyes.

“He told me how much of a slut you are.” You teased him.

“Careful, love. Don’t call me that. You won’t know how I would react.” He suddenly looked at you with a serious expression.

You both shared eye contact with each other, his lips slowly touching yours. You froze from the sudden physical contact, but for some reason, your body didn’t move away from him. Instead, you kissed him back with the same pace. Your mind panicking about what is currently happening.

You pulled away after realization hits you.

“Hey, d-don’t do things like that. Best friends don’t kiss each other. I-” You tried to make an excuse for kissing him back but he cut you off by placing his finger in your lips.

“I know. Just forget about it. Don’t worry, I won’t do anything else especially when you smell so much like my friend.” He turned his back away from you, silence wrapping you both like a blanket. “Good night, y/n.” He softly whispered just enough for you to hear.

“Right. Goodnight, Jay.” You shyly replied. Embracing the awkwardness between you two.

“Oh god, he knew that I fucked his friend in his apartment. This is so embarrassing.” You thought to yourself as you tried your best to sleep.

#enhypen #enhypen jay #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen scenarios #enhypen requests #jay x reader #park jongseong #jake sim #sim jaeyun

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aotwaifu · 4 years ago

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I thought of this so credit to me or maybe subconsciously to someone that thought it and airdropped it into my head lol.

SnK Character x Reader Headcanons — REACTION TO HUNGOVER EDITION.

Levi’s Reaction:

S/O would definitely be getting up in like the early afternoon, bed hair and half lidded eyes.

Levi watches as they exit the bedroom to go to the bathroom in a zombie like stance. Occasionally hits the side of the wall followed with his s/o mumbled cursing.

S/o is for sure half naked or just has a baggy shirt on covering half of their butt. Levi mentally notes it’s because his s/o was so drunk that they “felt so hot” and slept on him half naked.

Also mentally notes to next time brush their hair before bed because he can see leaves idly relaxing in his s/o hair that is beginning to irritate him.

S/o just stands in front of Levi who’s at his desk. Levi looks at them expecting for them to say something.

A disgruntled groan comes out before his s/o goes back into bed without saying anything else.

Meaning: “I know it’s late and I slept in late and I came home late but I love you and I’m sorry for any inconvience I caused you last night”.

Levi understood this.

Probably replies with his tongue clicking.

Levi leaves a cup of tea and water by the bedside.

Pats their head when his s/o is completely knocked out.

Eren’s Reaction:

That man definitely got drunk with his s/o. His and his s/o’s legs are all sprawled out in different directions on the bed they slept on together.

Butt naked from the sloppy naked sex.

Is rolled into his side whilst throwing up into a bucket by the bed.

“You look like crap”

Probably both go to the bathroom at the same time. His s/o is at the toliet trying to pee and Eren’s head halfway out the bathroom window throwing up last night.

His dick’s probably hanging out and about but he’s too hungover to even care.

“Eren your dick’s in my face”

Eren mumbles an apology swinging around shoving his ass cheeks into his s/o’s face whilst still hanging halfway out the window.

“Never taking shots with you again”

“Amen.”

Definitely calls Mikasa over to take care of you both.

Eren tries to grab a body part and his s/o instantly tell him to go take a shower, compliant he does but eventually his s/o joins him.

Half asleep throughout the day.

Armin’s Reaction:

Baby boy thinks his s/o is dead. Panics when they don’t respond quickly to his answers.

“(Y-Y/n) can you hear me?!”

“Yes Armin. Loud and clear. Exactly what I don’t want”

Is relieved instantly when he knows his s/o’s sass is still alive.

Reads up on best remedies for hangovers. Tries cooking the best hangover breakfast/lunch for his s/o.

His s/o finally rolls out of bed and Armin is delighted to serve them food that he made.

Whilst eating, Armin tries to smooth his s/o’s bedhair. He’s so fixated on removing a twig out of their hair he forgets that there’s a literal twig in their hair.

“How did you get.. a twig in your hair ?”

“Look all I remember is the martini and that’s it”

Armin massages and tries to dress his s/o. Probably turning scarlet red the entire time.

S/o smirks, sending a challenging smile.

“Even when I’m hungover I still can get you all flustered”

“Well that’s not what you were moaning last night”

S/o probably is giving him sloppy kisses and saying how lucky they are to have him.

Armin goes scarlet red again.

Mikasa Reaction:

Somehow she has already sobered up before the crack of dawn. Most likely went out for a stroll then came back to her s/o still in bed.

Her s/o definitely is being held whilst throwing up in a toliet bowl.

Mikasa’s patting their back and holding strands of their hair back.

“I’m never drinking again” they would sob.

Mikasa nods understandingly and both proceed to go into the positions before.

S/o doesn’t remember much of last night. They’re sitting at the table eating and S/o blurts out what had happen.

Mikasa bluntly says, “you stripped naked saying you want to make love to me in the early hours of the morning”.

S/o goes all red and clamers up with embarrassment and shame. Before they could muster up an apology Mikasa continues,

“You did make good love to me”.

Sending a soft smile to a now embarrassed s/o who has their head in their hands.

Definitely makes everything a little easier for her s/o . E.g. does most of the house chores, cooks for them and folds the bed covers.

Erwin’s Reaction:

Mans was the one that picked up his s/o from the bar. Half asleep and covered in sparkles.?

Doesn’t question it as all his s/o is slurring is “I love you’s” and “So much muscle, baby likes”.

Tucks them into bed.

His s/o is sleeping in all odd positions throughout the night making it harder for him to fall asleep so he gets up and sleeps on the couch in his study room.

Wakes up to his s/o half hanging off the same couch, nestled in between his big frame of body.

Sighs because he realised he could of slept in the bed just fine.

His s/o is throwing their food up and he’s conflicted with trying to soothe them and trying to set space between them (not because they’re gross but he understands being hungover is never fun).

His s/o would crack jokes about having his babies and saying stuff like, “better hope this is a hangover with all this throwing up. Or else we got bigger problems!”

Erwin sighs but on the inside he’s probably screaming.

Cleans their face and offers to run a bath for them.

Would periodically check though if his s/o hasn’t drowned in the bath from dozing off.

\\\

I’m gonna be real if I included Hanji or Jean, I see them just egging their s/o to drink more throughout the night and then getting their ass beat by them for encouraging “such bad behaviour” in the morning hehe.

I also forgot about Sasha and Connie but let’s be real. Those two would definitely be drunk passed out in a bush somewhere-

///

#levi x reader #aot season 4 #shijima mei #attack on titan mikasa #attack on titan #aot #Eren x reader #Armin x reader #Erwin smith x reader #mikasa x reader #snk x reader

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kaeyasaki · 4 years ago

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— ❝ MISCOMMUNICATE! ❞

— LEORIO PARADINIGHT X GN!READER :; NSFW

❝ skirt off, fuck in the backseat, take that shirt off, baby, put it on me, got me like “yeehaw”, ride it like a horsey, kinda like see-saw up and down on the d ❞

warnings :; unprotected sex, dirty talk, sub!reader, slapping, fingering + degradation -> +4K words

an :; hello hi i don’t know why the fuck i’m actually writing for leorio because i don’t fw him at all, but we checked and the leorio nsfw tag is literally dry and i felt bad for leorio stans so consider this my one time gift for leorio because this will never happen again LOL — NOT PROOFREAD I’LL GAG IF I DO SO

Leorio is a man of tolerance and he’s rather neutral in the sense of liking and disliking things. Of course, he’s open about things that bother him, but he’d rather resolve issues than allow them to stew and worsen over time.

One thing he didn’t like and couldn’t solve however was you.

Leorio couldn't stand you. You were always outdoing him in every test or exam your class took and it was even worse when the professor had insisted upon seating the two of you together in order to ‘keep up’ with one another as the pair of you were far ahead of the rest of the class.

Attending med-school was already stressful enough on its own, but Leorio was certain that being seated next to you only caused that stress to multiply by ten each class he attended. Still, he refused to let you get the better of him after all, your finals were fast approaching and that’s exactly when he’d shut you up for good.

“Leorio!~” He cringed at the sickenly sarcastic tone of your voice from behind him as he walked through the classroom doors. “What?” His tone is sharp as he has no means to entertain you in the slightest, only replying out of common courtesy.

“Why so uptight? Can’t I just say hi to the second best in class?” You hummed, teasing grin tugging at your lips as he scoffs at your comment. “Second best?” He repeats, eyebrows raised and brows twitching. “Second best.” You nodded, a provocative glint in your eyes as you were left satisfied with irritating him before class.

One thing you had learnt about Leorio during the months you’d spent sharing your classes with him, was that once agitated, he had a hard time concentrating. He was easy. Too easy in fact. Every lesson you played the boy like an instrument, pulling all the right strings for all the right reactions out of him.

You weren’t certain as to what it was about him that drew you in to provoke him at every opportunity, but you were certain that every opportunity taken would leave you satisfied. Perhaps it was his desperation that kept you hooked onto him. His constant need to beat you and gloat anytime he could. It was cute almost. But despite his somewhat annoying nature in that sense, you’d be a liar if you were to say you found him unattractive.

You weren’t stupid. Whether he was aware of it or not, Leorio was more than pleasing to look at. His broad shoulders forcing the threats of his crisp white shirt to hang on by thread. His torso was slim but certainly defined as you’d caught yourself eyeing the clearly chiseled muscles which would sometimes be left exposed through the thin white material on particularly hot days. You already loved the summer months, and Leorio’s appearance only becoming more obvious to the eye due to the lack of clothing he’d wear in the warmer weather only added a reason to your list of things to love about summer.

Class was boring to say the least. Your professor's voice drowned out completely as the sun peaked in height and forced waves of heat through the glass windows. You sighed and laid your head down on the desk, eyes catching sight of Leorio scribbling down whatever the professor was droning on about. You’d never paid much attention to the boy other than when it came to annoying him and stealing glances at his handsome form. You knew he worked hard but not to the point where you knew how hard. A small smile had formed on your face as you spent the rest of the class peacefully watching your rival take down all the relevant notes, completely uncaring to the fact you had done nothing productive in class yourself.

“Good work today.” Your voice rang through his ears as the two of you packed up. “Me?” he questioned, puzzled expression wiped across his face as you giggled. “Who else?” He shot you a confused scowl before packing up the rest of his things. While you had attempted to compliment him, he had taken it as mockery. The fact you knew finals were approaching but you still gave no effort to revision in class seemed taunting to him. Were you mocking him for having to try hard? Did the whole course just come naturally to you? Leorio didn’t even want to bother finding out. As far as he was concerned he was in med-school for his own reasons and them alone. He hadn’t the time to fool around with pretty things like you, especially not now. You’d only slow him down whether that was your intent or not. He couldn’t afford to lose sight of what he’d been striving for since the start.

“Whatever.” He huffed refusing to take anymore of your constant bothering. He slung his briefcase off the desk and began to head towards the door where the rest of the students were filtering out before you called out.

“Wait!” He halted his steps, body slowly turning to face you as you stood still behind your seat he’d just left you at. “I… I didn’t get the rest of the notes from today, could I get them off of you later?”

Leorio was a little taken aback, but yet he couldn’t see or sense any signs of mockery from you as your earnest eyes held contact with his. “Fine. You know where I’ll be.” He gave in sighing before turning back around and waving you off before exiting. Previous annoyance distinguishing just slightly. He hadn’t a clue what your intentions were, but he could distinguish between the real and the fake, and nothing about the way you looked at him and almost pleaded seemed ingenuine to him.

Leorio was certain he hated you, yet he couldn’t bring himself to deny you either. Walking back to his apartment, he thought back to times where you’d interacted. Majority of them being times you’d gone out of your way to get a rise out of him, but there was something endearing about the way you did it. Leorio felt almost special that you’d pay him and only him attention. Thinking back to it, you’d never bother anyone else, your sole attention aimed directly towards him and him alone. Leorio wasn’t sure if he was allowed to be special, but as any young man would, he did feel a sense of pride over the fact he’d somehow caught the attention of someone like yourself; someone as pretty as yourself. It didn’t matter to him that it wasn’t the typical type of attention a man of his age would prefer to enjoy, but nonetheless he enjoyed the jealous stares of others as you openly teased him and arguably borderline flirted.

Refusing to give into you completely though, Leorio swore he’d keep these thoughts to himself. Admitting how desirable he found you would be stupid on his end. You’d only make matters worse for him, tease him louder in class and gain a dreadful type of attention from others towards the two of you. He found you attractive, but not to the degree where he’d be willing to make a fool out of himself in front of anyone including yourself. It was best to keep you just at arms length and put up with this childish rivalry until you’d graduate and part ways.

A few hours had passed until you had rung up his apartment to be allowed in. Permitting your entrance, Leorio tapped his foot nervously as you made your way up the complex, notes on the coffee table nearby ready for you to borrow and leave. Opening the door upon your knocking, his face warmed at the sight of you dressed down a little more.

The pretty skirt you were wearing short enough to leave little to the imagination as to what was underneath. The cute top you were wearing clung to your figure and hugged all the right places. The only thing covering your modesty was the oversized jacket you’d left hanging off your shoulders so it technically had no other purpose than a poor attempt at covering yourself.

You smirked as you felt your classmate practically eye-fucking you before even entering his apartment. “Your notes.” you spoke suddenly catching him off guard. He sputtered a few times before straightening his stance and inviting you in, a string of incoherent mumbling leaving his lips as he remained flustered due to you catching him in the act of staring. You could only laugh lightly before sashaying in, the clean apartment scanned by your curious eyes.

“Is this them?” you questioned, fingertips dancing over the paper as Leorio joined you by the coffee table. “Indeed they are. Feel free to copy them I-”

“Is that it?” You cut in, flipping the sheets over to see if he’d written more on the other side of the paper. You could've sworn he’d written more, but supposing from the position you’d been watching him in class in, you'dn't hadn’t been able to tell just how much he was writing.

“It’s more than what you’ve done.” He retorted, nerves already stricken. “True,” You mused as you invited yourself to sit on his couch. “But I would’ve expected more from you.”

“Weren’t you just praising me for my work in class?” He huffed, tips of his ears warming up from agitation. “Yeah, I thought you’d generally worked hard though, I didn’t know you’d done so little though.” Sighing, you read over his pristine notes and decided the information was somewhat useful though. “I’ve done so little? Sorry not all of us are naturally gifted and don’t have to work for our grades!” Leorio snapped, temper teetering nearer the edge with each passing second. “Naturally gifted? I do more than enough work thank you!” You hissed back, sharp edge to your voice as you took slight offence to his claim. “Maybe you’d notice if you weren’t so busy staring at my tits in class all the time!”

Leorio was shocked. You’d noticed that? He thought for sure he was less than obvious but sometimes he’d have to admit he’d lose self control and shamelessly stare. You’d never say anything or react though, so he just assumed you hadn’t noticed. That didn’t matter though, because while he’d hold his hands up in guilt for staring at you, he’d caught you on more than a few occasions staring at his arms and then let your eyes trail down below towards his belt. He never said anything though, certain it’d cause him more of a headache than anything.

“Rich coming from you.” He scoffed as you glared right back at him. “With the way you stare at my belt, you would’ve thought the mark schemes written on there.” Heat rushed to both your face and core as his temper triggered something inside of you.

Leorio’s annoyance was nothing new to you, but this bolder and snappier side to him certainly was. It was hot to be blunt and you’d be damned to give up this chance to get rid of the building tension between the two of you.

Months and months of unspoken desires had been piling up between the two of you despite the fact neither of you had openly voiced them. You unknowing acted upon them though, your hungry staring contest in play for as long as you could remember when it came to classes together. You wanted him and the feeling was certainly mutual, but neither of your prides were weak enough to give in; not yet anyway.

The silence was unbearable, your frustrations growing worse by the second until you giggled. His eyes widened at the sudden sounds of your ringing laugher as you smirked up at him. “Fine then, just admit it, you wanna fuck me as bad as I want you to.”

Leorio’s face twisted in disgust, a mask to wear while he thought of a reply. Of course he did. He couldn't count the amount of times he’d taken care of his own frustrations at night imagining it was your throat around his length rather than his hand. He wouldn’t tell you that though. Not just yet at least.

“You’re disgusting.” Yet he doesn’t move when you press your chest up against his, arms looping around his torso battering your eyelashes up at him. His eyes are heavy with a mix of lust and neediness and sharply fixated on you, awaiting your next move. You almost laugh at his pathetic attempt to deny you, afterall you could easily ridicule Leorio to nothing more than a horny young man which was exactly what he was. He might've been a respectful student and aspiring doctor to the eyes of your classmates, but you knew from the start he’d be down bad for anyone willing to offer just the slightest ounce of attention to. He was just too easy. That’s what you had concluded anyway.

“Why haven’t you kicked me out yet then?” You questioned, index finger trailing up his chest as you cupped his cheek, taunting eyes gazing up at his panicking expression. “You could’ve easily given me your notes and hurried me away, but you didn’t, this is what you wanted isn’t it?”

“N-no.” Leorio choked out, flustered state worsening by the second. You were right, he did want this, but if he was going to do this, there was no way he was letting you take charge. Your presence was already dominating enough in the classroom, but you were in his territory now.

“So I’m wrong?” your finger trailed up to his face to cup his cheek as your taunting eyes flickered up towards him.

Tension and patience finally snapped, Leorio grabs your wrist and pulls it away from his face, his own hands reaching up to hold your neck and pull you in. “Just shut up already.”

He’s kissing you. Just like that. His lips are warm and the kiss is a little messy, but you expected this from the start. Both of you are too desperate to care at this point. You’re sure he’s bruising your lips at this point, he’s kissing you like he can’t take it much longer. All intentions of hiding desperation now forgotten, Leorio forces you to see just how badly he did in fact want this, despite his previous denial.

Your hands reach up towards the back of his neck, fingertips beginning to entangle with the short roots of his har, pulling him impossibly closer. He obliges, grunting in response and slotting his thigh between your legs as he groans again.

Your frustrations spike once more when you feel his free hand hikes up your skirt, long fingers dragging along your thigh. Tracing the outline of your practically useless panties, Leorio lets his finger wander along your wet slit, arousal already soaking the material through and through and you feel him smirk. “And the audacity to play coy with me, you wanted this that badly slut?”

You can hardly register what he’s saying to you as your only focus as of now is having his fingers somewhere a little better than on the surface of your heat. “Take them off.” He demands, voice stern but smile teasing with hints of pride. Not caring to bicker back, you whine but oblige to his wishes not wanting to wait any longer. “So you can follow orders then? Good to know.” He hums in approval, rewarding you with his middle finger dragging over your clit leaving you squirming in his grip. His thigh still firmly between your thighs, you’re denied of clenching them together. He’s staring at you intensely, eyes fixated on your twisted expressions as he teases your cunt a little more before adding his thumb.

With his middle finger tracing up and down your core and thumb drawing small but firm circles on the top of your clit, your mind goes blank. You’d fingered yourself plenty of times, but not as well as your classmate and biggest rival was doing right now. “Do you know how many times I’ve thought about you at night.” He sighs, demeanour completely unreadable as he almost looks as if he’s pitying you as he gazes down at your struggling face. You shake your head vigorously, wriggling in his hold in attempts for at least a little more friction. “Most nights.” He confesses with no shame as you let out a gasp as he adds another finger. He’s cautious, but obsessed with the way your walls clench down in his fingers, your arousal coating his fingers each time he pulls out. “M-me too.” You blurt out as his wrist snaps a little faster. He hums satisfied, his suspicions confirmed. He picks up the pace a little more; a reward for your honesty.

You sigh out shakily and whisper small chants of his name. The way your squirming against him has him painfully hard as he grows a little desperate himself. He begins to scissor his fingers in hopes of speeding up the process just a little more, because while he’d love to spend all night holding you in his grip, edging you to the point where you’re begging and crying, his own personal will wouldn’t hold that long, and he absolutely needed to be inside you sooner rather than later.

Arching your back slightly, you whine as he slows down taking in your pretty face. “Please just fuck me already.” You complain, eyes clenched shut as Leorio’s fingers continue their slow work. Grunting in response, he tugs his trousers down, his length springing free against your torso. “Shit.” You breathe out looking down at it.

Leorio’s dick isn’t the prettiest you’ve seen, but he’s definitely the most desirable in both girth and length. He was big, but you would guess that from the start when taking his frame into consideration. He had a few veins running down his dick too, and while he wasn’t the thickest you’d seen, the proportions matched well and you were even lucky enough to notice the slight curve which confirmed the fact you know he’d make you feel good.

Leaving you no more time to admire, Leorio pulled away from you to which you whined at the sudden loss of contact. Sitting down on the couch, he looked up at you and patted his thigh as you quickly stumbled over to him, desperation at its limit. Stopping you before you could sit down, Leorio had you over his lap as he lined his dick up to your entrance. “Sit.” he demanded as your mouth dropped open. He expected you to just sit? So casually too? He must’ve been mad. “I was already nice enough to prep you so why am I waiting?” He scolded, lustful eyes piercing through yours. “-ts too big.” You mumbled, head hung low in shame as Leorio tutted.

“It’s not, you’re not even trying to make it fit anyway.” He scoffed, tensions beginning to build up between the two of you again once more. Nodding your head, you shakily sunk down, eyes flying open as tears begin to form in the corners of your eyes. Crying out, Leorio takes a grain of pity on you as he allows you to recollect yourself. “Last chance before I do it myself,” He warns. “I’ve been generous today, inviting you to my home, letting you borrow my notes and then entertaining your needs, give a little back won’t you?”

Your teeth grit as you prepare yourself to attempt once more, but not before getting in one last snarky response. “Wasn’t it you who was eyefucking me as soon as you opened the door? If I didn’t know any better I’d say you wanted this more than me.” A harsh slap is stricken on your ass as you yelp. “Stop being such a brat, especially after you begged me to fuck you.” He hisses, frustration turning his tone almost angry. “You aren’t fucking me!” You cried out, tears of pent up needs becoming too overwhelming. Your fists are clenching the hem of your skirt and tears are streaming down your face as Leorio looks up at you.

His hands move quickly to his hips as you gasp upon the feeling of your body being pulled down. “You want me to fuck you? Fine, have it your way.” His grip on your hips is firm and you know there will be marks left later, but none of that mattered as of now. The only thing you cared about was having Leorio finally claim you as his in ways you’d imagined while pleasuring yourself most nights. Tears continued to drip down your face as you screamed out Leorio’s name as he plunged his entire length inside of your dripping cunt. It was painful, but slowly, your hips began to move on their own grinding up with his assistance until the two of you built a steady pace turning the pain into pleasure sending your head spinning.

Your tits are fully out and exposed by now, your flimsy top hardly stopping them from spilling out as they bounced at the same pace of your thrusts. Leorio’s eyes stayed focused on them for a while. His pupils gazing up and down at the same rhythm of your chest. He’d experienced the wonders of a female body before, the hunter exam he’d taken over a year ago giving him his first taste of what it really felt like to touch a woman, but this was different. This was a more personal experience, and the fact that he was the one making your body react like this only fuelled his movements as well as his pride.

“Shit- you feel so much better than I thought you - fuck - would!” You moan, your hands gripping his shoulders for support as you feel the coil in your stomach tighten. The praise is sent straight down to his groin as his thrusts are a lot deeper now, hitting against your cervix multiple times over as you start to see stars.

You cry out when he finally hits the right spot, your vision going white as your head tilts back, tongue dropping out your mouth. “There!” You sob. “Right there again!”

Seeing no reason to deny you when you’ve done such a good job of taking him so well, Leorio tightens his grip on your sides as drool begins to pool in your mouth. He leans in close and licks a stripe up your neck before taking a nipple into his mouth resulting in a loud moan to leave your lips. He sucks the sensitive bud as his thrusts show no relent, adamant on hitting the same spot as before.

You’re closing in towards the edge, the knot in your stomach unbearably tight as Leorio continues towards his goal of throwing you over the edge. Pulling away from your chest leaving a prominent bite mark from where he’d had his mouth attached to your nipple, he leans back in to gently lick over the mark. The gentle gesture contrasting the hard thrusts of his hips as he continued to assist in the shifting of your weight up and down his length.

A few more thrusts and you’re crying out his name, a thin line of drool streaming from the corner of your mouth as you come hard all over his cock. You’re so caught up in your own high, you miss the way he smirks at you, but with a gentle twinkle in his eyes. You coming undone is easily the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. The way your lashes cast a faint shadow over your cheeks as your head tilts back and your eyes roll to the back of your head.

While Leorio would love to keep you like this, stay inside you with your expression in place and cum dripping down him, he loses his own self control as just the sight of your fucked out face alone is enough to send him off the edge as he follows suit, loud groan as he fills his load into your dripping hole.

The warmth of his seed spreads through your entire body as your hands drop down from off his shoulders and rest of his chest, the two of you left to catch your breath. The two of you stay like that for just a few more moments. The blissful silence proving all tension, pent up frustrations and emotions had been resolved, the air now perfectly clear.

You flutter your eyes open again, your breathing returning to its regulated pace as you return back to reality. Leorio’s still inside you, his sweaty forehead resting against your shoulders, his breathing returns from ragged to regular.

“Shit.” You breathe out, realisation finally sinking into your head.

“Yeah, shit.” He repeats, tone a lot gentler from before as he lifts his head up to look at you. “And to think you only came by to pick up my notes.”

You laugh a little, his comment stirring not irritation, but genuine happiness through your chest as he offered a gentle smile your way.

“Well,” he spoke, as you gazed back into his now endearing eyes. “I suppose it’s too late for you to walk home.” “If I can even walk at all,” You mused. “You were a lot rougher than anticipated”.

He laughs. thumbs drawings gentle circles on your sides over the harsh marks he’d left on your skin from his tight grip. “What sort of business man would I be if I wasn’t just the slightest bit deceiving?” He hummed. “I thought you wanted to be a doctor.” You humoured back, your hands now finding home around the base of his neck.

“I do, that was a joke,” He said, forehead now resting against your own. “But alongside being a doctor, what I really want,” His voice quiet, barely above a whisper as you nod for him to continue. “Is for you to give us a chance rather than fighting it any longer.”

You smiled and pulled away from him. Head nodding firmly as he gently squeezed your sides. Leorio was right, while the two of you may have had your clases from time to time, there was no denying that there was mutual attraction from the start. Something drawing you into him and that same thing refusing to let him leave.

While the two of you had wasted so much time with petty competitions and arguments, you were certain that now you’d communicated properly, things would be smooth sailing for the two of you from here. Although, you thought to yourself, miscommunication had led you to this very situation. So while you nodded your head agreeing to give the two of you a shot, maybe you’d just have to be a little difficult every so often. Just for the sake of reminiscing and no other reason of course.

#bye no because i’m never writing for him again #i hc him as gen musty and just.. sweaty #i had to imagine someone else while i wrote this sobs #l:eorio stans #this is my pity piece to you i’m sorry your tag is so dry #i’m also sorry i lied #your man doesn’t have the dick i described in the fic #but rather a skinny limp one IM SORRY #i also don’t think he cuts his fingernails even though he’s a doctor #maybe he does idc but they just feel.. yuck to me #ALSO HIS BREATH PROBABLY STINKS IM SORRY #okay.. i’ve got that out my system #followers my beloved.. pls forgive me i’m never writing for him again i promise #i swear on it actually #IT WAS HORRIBLE 😰#BUT I HAD TO SAVE THEIR DYING TAG #leorio smut #leorio x reader smut #hxh smut #hxh x reader smut #🗯pussytalks #hxh #hunter x hunter #hxh x reader #hunter x hunter x reader

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1997devil · 4 years ago

Text

deals with the devil

pairing: mingyu x reader

w.c.: 2.8k

includes: incubus!mingyu, mentions of alcohol, unprotected sex, dirty talk & degradation, daddy kink, oral (fem receiving), fingering, creampie

a/n: this is me being self indulgent because that’s what got me 1k after all 🥵😛 i promise i’ll work on requests after this! i just needed to get this out of my system 🖤 also to clarify some things that may appear dubious, the drink the reader is holding is a potion by mingyu that he uses to lure her towards him! a lil fantastical touch i added to upkeep the demon theme lol

you mutter expletives under your breath when the dj hollers and shuffles to the next song on his shitty playlist of trashy holiday remixes.

you’re only here because your friend had begged you to come along with her, pleading with such vigor she might as well had just dragged you by your wrist. she ditched you the second she set foot in the house, latching her arms around her boyfriend’s neck, the one throwing the party and the one who hired said dj. it really just reaffirmed how your best friend had a shitty taste.

when you entered what appeared to be a bar area someone had shoved a solo cup into your hand, the inside sloshing with a liquid you knew was strong, would blow your mind away from the scent that wafted from it, and would leave you with a killer hangover tomorrow morning. you didn’t dare take a sip from it, though you held onto it so that your hand wouldn’t look so lifeless, hanging by your body.

the shitty music didn’t pound against your still sober mind on whichever floor you were currently on, which you were thankful for. you wander through the house – perhaps the one thing your friend’s boyfriend was good for was the expansive mansion his family lived in – stumbling past locked bedrooms and powder rooms. people who were already trashed, no doubt from the same drink that remained in your cup, lingered about in the hallways. you gingerly stepped beside them, getting further away from where the party was mainly situated, not really having a concrete plan in mind or any sense of direction in what appeared to be a labyrinth standing as a house.

a bedroom you happen to pass by left its door ajar, and something called you from within to look in. it didn’t hurt to take a rest for a bit from the killer heels your friend shoved your feet into. you’d call a cab from there and you’d finally return home, within your safe space underneath your duvet.

there appeared to be no one, and you braced yourself to let yourself in fully. your heels sank into the carpeted floors as you slowly headed towards the bed. it was still clean and neatly made, and you wonder how no one has stepped foot in this bedroom amongst all the other ones you just passed by. you heave a sigh as you gently sat down on the plush bed. you hadn’t had a single bite or drink since night befell and painted the sky pitch black. the cup that’s in your hand still remains untouched, and you take a small sip, the alcohol burning like fire down your throat as you swallow.

something in the corner of your peripheral vision catches your attention, flickering, appearing transparent then returning to opaque in a moment you’d miss if you blink. it appears strange, fascinating, and you sense a stirring sensation throughout your body the more you rest your eyes on it. a voice that begins to resonate in your mind beckons you to come closer.

it feels like you lose all your senses as you face the man standing before you, and your brain eventually feels more muddled when you try to recall just where and you’d seen him before.

“had my eyes on you since you walked in,” the unnamed man hums, stepping closer to you, an arm circling around your waist. it presses you closer against him, letting out a soft gasp. your arms seem to move on their own accord, resting on his chest as he looks down on you. “wanted to taste you so bad,” he mutters, voice dropping to something lower than a whisper like you were the only one meant to hear him.

“w-who are you?” the lump that’s lodged in your throat since you swallowed whatever had been in that cup clears up just enough for you to brokenly rasp out words. you meet the man’s eyes, dark as midnight, glows and keeps your attention on him. you feel as if all your senses are heightened as he runs his warm hands on your body.

“call me mingyu, angel,” he smirks, a wanton intonation lacing his voice, “though you’ll call me many other things later.”

“l-like what?” you whimper when his head drops to your neck, gently sucking on your skin, fierce enough for you to feel but not enough to leave marks yet.

“are you gonna stay to find out?” his lips tickle at your ear, nibbling on your earlobe, placing a kiss to the skin right below it. it hits a spot you didn’t know felt good, a high pitched whine leaving your mouth. you nod frantically, and mingyu lets out a dark chuckle at how desperate he’s already gotten you.

it feels like mingyu controls all your movement, taking over your senses as he leads you around the bedroom and slams you to the door. his hand places itself firmly on your waist, and the other hand goes to circle your neck, almost like a priceless accessory that decorates the clean space of skin, like an empty canvas. it’s tight, hot, and you’d happily die like this, under his hands.

tears line and spring from your eyes, rivulets tracking your cheeks and dripping from your jaw. mingyu laughs, a snarky sound that is lined with fire and hell.

“haven’t touched you at all, pet,” he purrs, leaning closer to you, his tall figure towering over you. it is only fitting that the title of the king and ruler of the underworld is crowned to someone built like him. he commands attention, creates control in any space and room he enters, and right now he was playing with yours. “what’s making you so needy?”

he gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ears, a contrast to just how rough he’d been with you before.

“you,” you whisper in response. the smirk that remains on his lips is taunting. “what about me? i haven’t done anything to you.”

he continues. “what would you like me to do with you, angel? would you like me to make you feel good?”

the affirming nod you give is all the permission he needs as he presses his lips to yours, licks on your bottom lip as you easily grant him access.

–

“you wanna know a secret, angel?’ mingyu teases, slow and relaxed, unlike you who’s the spitting image of desperation and need for him. he’s been teasing you for what feels like hours now, reducing you to putty in his hands, just begging with whatever energy you have left for him to fuck you already.

you nod, masking your sounds as the pillow underneath you swallows your whine. you feel mingyu’s hand return to your body, slowly tracing a path of its own on your thighs, inching closer to your wetness but not quite reaching it yet.

“i’ve known you since before tonight, darling,” he mutters as his legs bracket your legs, fingers carding through your hair. “i’ve seen and watched you, even when you thought no one could see you.”

his gentle touch on your locks turns into a searing grasp as he pulls you up by your hair, making you stand on your knees. your hands try to grasp at something, until it travels to behind you, pressing your back to his chest.

“even when you thought no one could hear you as moaned and whined until you made yourself cum.” he bites out directly against your ear, hot breath fanning on your skin until the hairs on the nape of your neck arose.

“so damn pretty when you got your fingers fucking yourself fast and hard, hm?” he continues, punctuating every few words with a wet kiss to your jawline. “or when you think that dumb little toy you have can make you come. it’s comical, darling, that you think anything can make you feel as good as i do. you’ll come to know it, angel.” his hand comes down to your ass, gentle for a start, though mingyu knows you’ll beg for him to go harder. you let out a little yelp at the contact, and mingyu just feels even more fired up as he sees the red mark deepen on your skin.

he pushes you back down onto the bed. “m-mingyu-ah, d-do it already, pl-please,” you brokenly mutter, and mingyu delights in the way your voice cracks at every other syllable.

“do what, angel?” your hands firmly grasp on the sheets as you feel his lips travel downwards, tracing down your spine and the small of your back. he moves back just a bit so he isn’t sitting atop your legs anymore, then holds you by your hips to pull you up. your knees are barely strong enough to hold you up, and mingyu scoffs at what you’ve become under his touch.

“this?”

he runs a finger on your sopping wetness, and you loudly keen at his touch, finally. you momentarily remember that you’re nowhere near your own bed, yet you continue to release loud noises, not caring if anyone can hear you from outside.

his mouth falls onto your pussy next, accompanying the ministrations of his fingers weaving in and out of you while he sucks and licks until you’re shivering. the anticipation that finally erupted with him pleasuring you produces moans and groans that mingyu absolutely revels in.

“what do you want, angel?”

you keen loudly with your eyes shut, taking deep breaths to not come early even though it seems mingyu wouldn’t even mind.

“w-want you in me, gyu.”

you feel mingyu’s grin deepen as he eats you out. “good girl.”

he lifts his mouth from your wetness, though his fingers don’t pause. he adds another digit, your wetness coating them up to their knuckles, dripping down to your inner thighs as well. you whine, impatient, and mingyu calmly shushes you, his other hand traveling up your body to pinch and play with your nipples.

“need to prepare you first, angel. you need to be able to take all of me, right?” he quickens the pace of his fingers, three of them now fucking you. your response is cut off by a whine. his feels better than when you do it yourself, going in deeper than you ever would’ve reached yourself.

“look at you,” he mutters in disdain, “can barely even take my fingers. d’you think you can take my cock?”

“pl-please, no more teasing, f-fuck me already!” you snap at his teasing, though mingyu seems unbothered, barking a familiar mocking laugh as he slowly pulls his fingers out, sucking on them, letting your sweetness coat his tongue and whole mouth, savoring your taste. he smacks your ass once more for good measure.

“demanding. be fucking grateful i’ll let it slide,” he growls, running the head of his cock on your entrance, as he slowly pushes in. he chokes on his own moan as he can barely push in up to the head of his cock. you’re so tiny underneath him, barely even fitting his dick, yet your pleading drips out of your mouth so easily.

your impatience takes over as you fuck back on him, and mingyu groans at how more of your tight cunt is enveloping his cock, warm and feeling so good. a gasp leaves your lips at how big he is, and mingyu’s hands bracket your waist, seemingly trying to stop you from going further.

“angel, y-you’re too tight,” he choppily huffs, a light sheen of sweat perspiring on his skin.

it appears to be your last straw. “please, please, i need you! n-need your cock,” you gasp once more, “please, d-daddy!”

you don’t even seem to notice the name falling off of your lips, but it reinvigorates the fire within mingyu. all his composure, the control he’d worked so hard to maintain so he doesn’t just fuck and break you, ebbing out of him and traveling far.

“you asked for it.”

he finally fully pushes in, his cock fully inside of you, your ass pressing against his hips. you gently swivel your hips, easing the stretch when it feels like his dick is splitting you.

“sweetheart, you’re driving me insane. what a greedy ‘lil slut, huh?” he grinds up against you once, and your arms feel like they’re about to give out. “getting off on daddy’s cock like this.”

his hands leave your waist, traveling to your nipples, flicking and pinching down on them. your whole body feels like jelly, letting out what you think are the most pornographic moans you’ve ever heard in your life. all your senses have been overtaken by the demon hanging above you, reveling in all the energy he’s feeding off of your pleasure.

mingyu bends over to press his body against yours, then straightens back up, bringing you with him. his hand tangles into your hair, keeping you upright as he finally begins fucking you, building up a pace. the sounds of skin slapping against each other resound in the room that feels larger than life, like no one can bother you.

he feeds dirty praises to you, and every syllable he bites out is almost competing with the noises you make. he tells you he loves how dirty you are, how wet and warm your pussy is, how soft your breasts feel, how you’re such a whore who so easily breaks when daddy fucks her.

his words tether back and forth between praising and mocking you, telling you that you look so gorgeous like this, brokenly sobbing at the pleasure, wetness dripping onto the sheets.

“do you like it, angel?” it is an understatement, and you can only express it through your dirty whimpers. “i l-love it, daddy. love it so mmm-much, ah, daddy, m-mingyu, ah!” you hate how mingyu keeps his composure so well, a sharp contrast to you, ruined and wrecked beyond comprehension.

“fucking you stupid, hm?” mingyu taunts.

then, in a smooth stroke, he pulls out of you, and you gasp at the loss of contact. mingyu leaves no time for regret. he moves back, turning your body around, letting you rest on your back. his fingers wrap around your ankles, pushing your legs up until he’s got you practically bending in half. he enters you again, easily picking up the pace he set beforehand. the new position easily leads him to the spot that makes you see stars.

your jaw falls as he continues to prod at the spot, hitting it perfectly every time. “right there, baby?” you deliriously nod, head lolling to the side.

mingyu’s lips on yours are soft and gently prodding, overwhelming you with the different sensations he’s subjecting your body and mind to.

“f-fuck, break me, daddy!”

mingyu’s lips stretch into a devilish smile.

mingyu slams even harder into you, pushing you to your limits. you see red, hot, and you know you won’t last much longer. you whimper, trying to work your voice up to warn mingyu, though you fail. he reads through you, his pace unforgiving as his hand comes to play with your clit, and you howl at the surge of pleasure that throbs through your body.

mingyu tightly grabs onto your thigh, pressing it down to keep you in position. “where do you want me, angel?”

“mmm, inside. f-fill me up, yeah, feels s-so good,” you’re completely out of it, slurring your words, not registering anything but mingyu’s warm hands running on your body and wetness, completely enveloping you until you’re teetering off the edge, ready to let the winding coil in your stomach burst.

mingyu groans, long and drawn, and makes the tension in your boy snap. you come from him coming, feeling him fill you up with hot spunk and pushed in deeper from how he doesn’t stop thrusting. sparks and sensations overflood you until you’re left with a gaping mouth and dripping pussy, as mingyu finally pulls out.

he coos as he watches you clench around nothing, his come dripping out of you. he bends down, using his tongue to clean up whatever had spilled out of you, then fucking the remnants back in with his finger. the overstimulation makes you keen once more, and mingyu finally takes mercy on you.

his lips gleam in the dark light, coated with the liquids dripping from your wetness. he kisses you again, and you taste the way yours and his come mix together in your mouths. your eyes flutter shut, feeling as if you’re suspended in mid-air as mingyu transforms from the ruthless dominant earlier to something much more gentle, lazily clashing his tongue with yours and pressing his digits down on your thighs to soothe the strained muscles.

it takes a while until he separates from you, and you can barely keep your eyes open as he smirks at you.

–

(you wake up the next morning in your bed, a sated soreness plaguing your entire body so great you feel like such pain would’ve only erected if you had thrown yourself off of a cliff.

a sigil that would’ve been invisible to anyone else but you brandish itself on your right pinky finger.

a feeling sinks into you, one that tells you he’d return soon.)

#seventeen #svt #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen fic #seventeen smut #mingyu #kim mingyu #mingyu scenarios #mingyu imagines #mingyu fic #mingyu smut #t:fic #f:spicy #mine #merry xmas freaks 🖤

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leossmoonn · 4 years ago

Text

Distractions [Eddie Longo]

masterlist

pairing - eddie longo x fem!reader

type - fluff, smut

note / request - so i’ve recently watched “tell me a story” and i love eddie, so naturally, i wrote a fic about him. enjoy!

summary - eddie goes to a bar across town after he robbed the jewellery store and meets you, a friendly bartender who helps take his mind off of things

warnings / includes - language, mention of robbery and murder, alcohol, talk about controlling ex-bf, suggestive, smutty scenes: making out, touching, no sex though. carla doesn't exist in this lol

————

*gif isn’t mine*

“Shit!” Eddie screamed, slamming his fist on the truck.

“Hey! That’s my car, man!” Sam exclaimed, pushing Eddie back.

Eddie glared at Sam, getting ready to push him back, but Mitch stopped his brother.

“You two calm down,” Mitch demanded. “He pushed me!” Eddie exclaimed.

“Grow up, Eddie. We’re not in the third grade anymore,” Sam remarked.

“So? That doesn’t mean you needed to shoot that lady!” Eddie argued.

“It was an accident. Things like that happen, it’s life. Get over it!” Sam stated.

Eddie scoffed, shaking his head. “No. If we get caught, we could go to jail!”

“We're not, Eddie. Sam has done this many times before. It’s okay.” Mitch put a hand on his shoulder, but Eddie shrugged it off.

“It’s not okay. None of this is okay,” Eddie muttered. “Why don’t you just go home then and cry to Mommy,” Sam taunted.

Eddie looked between Sam and Mitch, balling his hands in fists. He knew it wasn’t going to get better if he stayed with them. So he turned around on his heels, trudging over to his car. Mitch sighed and followed him, putting a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“Ed, c’mon,” Mitch started. “I gotta go, Mitch. I can’t stay here,” Eddie muttered, “Not right now, at least.”

Mitch looked at his brother, a frown pulling down his lips as he saw the fear in Eddie’s eyes. He took his hand off of his shoulder, nodding in agreement.

“Yeah… Yeah. I gotta go back home to Shelley, anyways. Call me when you’re back.”

“Thanks,” Eddie muttered. He swung his truck door open, climbing in and shutting it. He turned on the ignition, his car rumbling underneath him as it started up. He turned on the radio as he stepped on the gas. Rock music played on his radio, the static playing louder than the actual music.

He drove for a few hours, not being able to stop replaying the events that happened earlier that day. He was beyond worried. He didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt, and definitely didn’t mean for anyone to die. He just wanted money to get out of his shitty trailer, start over his shitty life, and maybe even get a girlfriend. But he knew that he had no chance for that now- like he had much of a chance before. He was a criminal, an even bigger one than before. He knew he could go to jail for more than just a week for this. He hoped Sam would eventually take the fall for it all, whether it was on his own terms or not.

Eddie got off of the highway, seeing signs pointing to a bar a few miles away. He decided to get a few drinks before crashing in his car for the night. He parked in the front, jumping out and walking into the bar. He looked around. There were only a few people there, all of them drunk old men. Eddie walked up to the bar, taking a seat on one of the stools. While he waited for someone to serve him, you were in the back, arguing with your ex boyfriend on the phone.

“It’s my apartment, Scott,” you griped. “Well, I payed all the bills!” Scott exclaimed into the mic.

“That is bullshit. You and I both know that I worked all the late nights and paid every single damn penny. Not to mention, I was the one who was also doing your laundry and cooking and cleaning!”

Scott sighed over the phone. You smirked, knowing that he had nothing to say back to you now.

“Yeah, well, I would still like my stuff back,” he muttered.

“And you can pick it up by the dumpsters outside my apartment. Bye, Scott,” you hissed, hanging up the call before he could say anything else.

You sighed and put your phone in your back pocket, straightening your clothes out before going back to the front. You walked out, your heels clicking on the floor, getting Eddie’s attention.

“Hi, Welcome to O’Malley’s. Sorry for the wait,” you sighed.

Eddie looked up at you, eyes widening and mouth agape. You were the prettiest girl he'd ever seen.

You noticed his stare, your lips curling up into a smirk. “You gonna order or just stare at me?”

Eddie broke out of his gaze, sitting up straight and averting his eyes from you. “Um, yeah, yeah. I’ll take whiskey. Neat.”

You nodded and got out a cup, pouring the alcohol in the glass before sliding it over to him.

“Hey, Carl, you need another?” You called out to one of the old men who were sitting in the corner.

“Nah, I think I’m gonna head out,” he shook his head, standing up out of his eat. “Alright. See you tomorrow,” you smiled at him.

“See ya, honey!” Carl waved and walked out of the bar.

You got out a rag and started to wipe down the bar as closing time was in fifteen minutes. Eddie lifted his cup up as you swiped the rag closer to him.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, moving away from him to wipe further down the table.

Eddie titled his head to you, downing his drink in seconds. You looked up at him, brows raising as you saw that his glass was already empty.

“Long day?” You asked, walking back to fill his cup. “Something like that,” he grumbled.

He set his cup down and watched as you poured more whiskey. He studied your face, stomach flipping as your eyes met his. You had these pretty, tired, but still lively eyes that stared into his dark, lonely ones. Your lips curled up into a flirtatious, but soft smile the more you stared at him. His face and eyes mirrored back your playful expression. He lifted up his cup, putting it to his lips, not taking his eyes off of you.

Your own eyes roamed his face. When you first looked at him, you had that initial attraction towards him. Now that you were able to look at him longer and closer, your heart began beating against your ribcage, and warmth spread down between your thighs. He was hot. No doubt about that. He looked a little scruffy with his 5′ o clock shadow and dishevelled hair. He had deep, green irises that surrounded his dilated pupils. He never took his eyes off of you for a second, not even to adjust his jacket collar. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was attracted to you, too.

“Well, we close in ten minutes, but if you want to stay and chat, you can,” you offered, walking away and tossing the rag in the sink.

“You don’t mind?” Eddie asked. “Not at all,” you shook your head.

“Thanks,” he said. You turned to him, giving him a closed-mouth smile. “Of course. Let me just get these floozies out of here.”

Eddie nodded and watched you as you walked up to all the old drunks, getting them out of their seats and pushing them to the door gently. Eddie smiled as he saw how gentle you were with them, even if some of them refused to leave. You waved and said one last goodbye to all of them before locking the door and turning off the ‘open’ sign. You walked back to the bar, getting out a bottle of beer for yourself.

“So, what’s your name, handsome?” You asked.

“Eddie, what about you?” Eddie asked. “Y/n,” you answered.

“Pretty name for a pretty girl,” he remarked. You smiled at him through your lashes, giggling and hanging your head down low all school girl-like. “And here, I thought you were a shy one.” “Well, I got a little bit of liquid courage.” He held up the glass of whiskey, moving it side-to-side.

“Got enough to tell me your last name?” You prompted. “Why would you need to know that?” Eddie asked, now tensing up.

He tried to keep calm, but the thought of you being an undercover police officer and spying on him ran through his mind on repeat.

“I just want to know who I’ll be spending the night with, is all. Why? Are you on the run or something, and afraid I’ll report you?” You joked.

Eddie averted eye contact and you raised your brows, not realising that there was such a high percent chance of you being right.

“I didn’t kill anybody,” Eddie disclaimed. “Oh,” you nodded, “That’s… reassuring.” Eddie sighed and looked away from you. He cursed at himself in his head. He was beginning to think that had a chance with you, but now he had just gone and fucked it up. He downed his whiskey, getting out his wallet and setting down a ten dollar bill.

“Thanks for serving,” he muttered before getting up and walking to the door.

Your eyes widened and you hurried out from behind the bar. You ran up to him, grabbing his wrist and pulling him back. Your heart jumped as you felt the electric surge through your veins that came with touching him. Eddie stopped immediately, his muscles tensing, but then relaxing at your touch. He turned to you, confusion and a little hint of fear written on his face.

“Don’t go,” you pleaded. You hated the way you sound. You normally weren't like this; begging for a man. But you had never seen Eddie before in all your life, and you had never met anyone so polite, yet so charming before. Sure, he looked rough and he definitely had secrets that would probably frighten you, but he had already proven himself to be a hell of a lot better than Scott. Why not give him a chance before really judging?

“Why not? You looked pretty scared back there,” Eddie said.

“I know,” you nodded. “But… I’m having a really shitty night, too, and I think it’d just be nice if we both have a friend for the night.”

Eddie looked down at your hand that was still wrapped around his wrist. You noticed his gaze and pulled your hand back, putting your arm behind your back. You looked back up to his face, begging him with your eyes. Eddie sighed, deciding to give in.

He knew that if he left, he’d be worse off than he had been before he walked into the bar. Even just in the short time that he had been there, you had made him forget all about the robbery and accidental murder. With you, he felt like he could relax and have fun and be happy. That’s all he ever wanted, anyways.

“Yeah, it’d be nice to have a friend.”

You immediately perked up at his words, taking your hand back out and grabbing him by the wrist again. You led him back to the bar, filling his glass back up.

“So, why're you having a shitty night?” Eddie asked. “My ex-boyfriend keeps calling me every hour, yelling and cursing at me, trying to get me back. He’s a controlling little asshole. I knew he was bad news, but I still went with him. Why? I honestly couldn’t tell you. I set the record straight, thought, and he’s out of my life. I just wish he’d stop calling though,” you explained.

“Well, if he calls while I’m here, let me talk to him. No girl should be treated like that,” Eddie stated.

You softened up at his words. “I like you even more now.”

Eddie smiled with you, “Good to hear.” “Are you really on the run?” You asked.

“Not really,” he shook his head. “Soon, though, I’ll probably be.”

You held up your beer bottle in front of him. “Here’s to one of your last nights as a free man.”

Eddie chuckled and clinked his glass with yours. You two took big sips of your drinks. You set your bottle down, wiping your mouth roughly with the back of your hand. You looked at Eddie with flirtatious eyes, making butterflies flutter in his stomach. You leaned on the counter, your tank top dipping down to show off your cleavage. Eddie’s eyes looked down shamelessly for a few seconds, going back up to your face, to see a big smirk resting on your lips.

“So, Eddie, what did you do that’s so bad?” You asked.

“Um,” he hummed, “I don’t think you want to know.”

You hummed, leaning closer to him. You leaned close enough to where your noses touched. Eddie started to breath heavily, not being able to control all the thoughts that were running through his head of you and him. You could feel his breath on your lips and you couldn’t help but giggle quietly as the tips of his ears turned pink. You kept looking him in the eyes, slightly intimidating him, but also turning him on.

“I think I do want to know,” you contradicted him. “Why? Aren’t you scared?” Eddie challenged.

Your heart skipped at his growing confidence. You decided to push him more by dipping your head down, brushing your lips against his ever-so-slightly. The action made your own mind go fuzzy, and it made Eddie gasp. He could feel his jeans tighten in response. You moved back a little, looking at him in the eyes.

“I won’t be scared. I like a little danger,” you purred. You let your eyes wander down to his pants, checking him out before staring back up to his eyes. You cocked your brow up, making your words seem even more suggestive.

Eddie looked into your eyes, a smirk of his own spreading across his lips. The next few things that happened were like scenes out of a movie. You jumped up on top of the bar counter, grabbing Eddie’s hand as you slid off and landed on your feet. You led him to the back room, pushing him up against the wall and crashing your lips onto his. Your hands made their way up from his arms to his shoulders. You took his jacket collar in your hands, pulling it down. Without breaking away from the kiss, he took his jacket off, placing his hands back onto your waist, where he gripped your sides, surely hard enough to create bruises.

“You make out... with all the guys in… the... bar like this?” Eddie asked in-between kisses.

You smirked into the kiss, pulling away. “Nope, only with you.”

Eddie grinned, “I’m the lucky one, huh?” “You sure are,” you nodded.

You then took the back of his head and crashed his lips back onto yours. You two shared a wet and fervent, opened-mouth kiss. Kissing him was hot and filled with passion You had honestly never been kissed like this before. Sure, kisses with your ex-boyfriends were hot, and definitely wet and messy, but they were never filled with passion. No one kissed you like Eddie did. Not only did your lips fit perfectly together, but the way he slipped his tongue into your mouth so smoothly and didn't try to stick it down your throat like a 16 year old boy, only made you want him more.

You entangled your hands in his hair, weaving your fingers through it and messing it up even more. Eddie trailed his lips down to your neck and you involuntarily bucked your hips up against his, grinding your core against his. Eddie groaned in your ear, his hands reaching down to your thighs and and lifting you up. He then spun you around and pressed you against the wall. You wrapped your legs around his waist, throwing your head back so he had better access to your neck.

“Eddie,” you breathed out as his lips found your sweet spot. You arched your back at his teeth nipped at your skin. You pulled on the hair at the nape of his neck, egging him on further. Him hearing you moan his name had a whole stampead swarming in his stomach. His left arm went under your bottom, holding you up with ease. His right hand untucked your tank top from your jeans, sliding his hand up your body. Goosebumps arose on your skin as his fingers danced up your body and to your bra. His fingertips skimmed over your bra, feeling your hardened nipples through the fabric.

You let out a high-pitched whine, followed by a broken pronunciation of his name. “A-Auiggh. Ed-Eddie.” You started to grind your lower half against his, feeling the need for more friction.

Eddie groaned against your skin, his kisses getting more sloppy and wet with each buck of your hips. His hand went around to the back of your bra, going to the hooks and unclipping them quickly. You let out impressed gasp as the bra loosened around your breasts. The straps started to fall and you took your hands out of his hair, sliding your bra out of your shirt. As you tossed it onto the floor, your phone started to ring in your back pocket.

“Dammit,” you muttered.

Eddie pulled away, setting you down gently on your feet.

“I’m sorry,” you apologised, pulling your phone out of your back pocket. You looked at the caller ID, groaning in annoyance and disgust.

“Let me guess, Scott?” Eddie guessed. “Yep. I’ll be right back,” you sighed, beginning to walk away, but Eddie stopped you.

He pulled you back gently by your arm, taking your phone from your hand. “Here, let me.”

You watched him with curious and confused eyes as he answered the phone, putting Scott on speaker.

“Hi, Scott,” Eddie greeted, saying Scott’s name in an aggressive tone.

“Um, who is this? I need to speak with Y/n,” Scott said.

“No, you don’t,” Eddie stated matter-of-factly. “Yes, I do. That little bitch needs to learn her lesson for smashing my Xbox,” Scott hissed.

Eddie raised his brows at you, but you shrugged shamelessly. Eddie grinned at you and turned his attention back to Scott.

“Why don’t I teach you a little lesson, okay, Scott? You’re gonna leave Y/n alone. From what she’s told me, you’re a scumbag who is a controlling piece of shit, who treats women like garbage. If you ask me, I think Y/n had a right to smash your Xbox.”

You gasped quietly. No one had ever stood up to Scott on your half before. You had tried multiple times yourself, but he always managed to find a way to belittle you even more and make you lose your confidence. What Eddie was doing now was just making you fall for him more. And honestly, it was turning you on a bit, too.

“What? Who the hell are you? If you don’t let me talk to Y/n, I’m going to-” Scott started, but Eddie was quick to cut him off. “Going to what, Scott? ‘Cause I know a few people that, if Y/n gave me your address, would kill you before you could even get another word out. So stop calling her, threatening her, and don’t even think about trying to visit her to quote-on-quote “teach her a lesson”. Otherwise, you’ll have more things smashed than just your Xbox.” Eddie threatened before hanging up the phone.

You looked at him with your eyes wide and full of amazement.

“That should do it. Guys like him only accept threats from other men. It’s bullshit, but it’s just how some people are,” Eddie said, handing you back your phone.

“Thank you so much. No one, and I mean no one, has ever done that for me. I’ve always had to take care of myself, but it’s never been enough,” you chuckled.

Eddie smiled, “You’re by far the strongest woman I’ve ever met, and I’ve met a lot of women. Scott just still has the mental age of a toddler. I bet if you went to wherever he lived and socked him, he’d leave you alone for good.”

You chuckled and nodded. “Yeah, he probably would. I don’t want to see him ever again, though. Who knows what he would do to me.”

“And that’s why you’re also the smartest woman I’ve ever met. You know what’s good for you.”

You set your phone down on a nearby chair, sauntering over to Eddie. You put your hands on his chest, sliding them up to his shoulders and tracing patterns.

“If I know what’s good for me, then why am I hanging out out with you?” You asked, looking up at him through your lashes.

“You’re right. Maybe you’re not so smart,” Eddie teased, snaking his arm around your waist.

“Oh, Eddie, you’re so rude,” you scoffed, feigning offense.

“Then why don’t you kick me out? Oh, right, you like me too much,” he stated. He put his hand on the small of your back, pulling you flush against him.

You let out a small gasp as your chest met his. Your hands made their way to his hair once again, twirling the short strands between your fingers. “Yeah.” You bit your lip, your eyes flickering from his eyes to his lips. “I like you too much.”

————

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punkassrichie · 3 years ago

Text

Just Tonight pt 1

A/N: i’ve only written like,, one fic on this blog lol but i really love It so i decided to start up again. also just wanted to say i’m aware that beverie isnt an ideal ship, but i just love it sm 😪😪 it’s got all the angst i need and want >.< but anyway feel free to send me requests? i will do any and every ship bc that’s just how much i love everyone and everything. feedback would be much appreciated! <3 also this is a college au but i wanted the first part to be kind of like a back story, like what went on during their high school years. this fic was inspired by the song Just Tonight by The Pretty Reckless. feel free to give it a listen as well to get a feel of the theme for the fic lol

Warnings: angst, mentions of underage drinking and substance abuse, mentions of underage sex, mentions of SA and abuse, abusive and toxic relationships, cheating, mentions of suicide me projecting just a lil and Bev x Richie. college au. if i missed any lmk. oh aaaaand all of the character are bi LMAO k byeeee

Summary: Beverly and Richie were the cliche best friends. Going to the same high school, joining the same clubs, hanging out at the Aladdin and arcades, applying to the same colleges, telling each other their deepest darkest secrets. Being each other’s firsts. Falling in love. And neither of them knowing about it.

It was the last day of summer, barely going into high school the first time it happened. They were getting drunk and high together, just the two of them. At the time, Bev was with Bill, and Richie was pining after Eddie. Both of them sad because Bev loved Bill with all of her being, but she never felt right with him and Richie loved Eddie, who never made it clear whether he loved him back or not. Eddie was messing with his head a little bit. Not intentionally, he just didn’t have the confidence Richie did. And he wasn’t sure what he wanted.

Richie understood. He wasn’t going to force Eddie to do anything he didn’t wanna do. And if that included Eddie not wanting to be with him then so be it.

But man, did it fucking hurt.

So they both drank themselves sick, neither of them understanding why they were the way they were. They’d talked all hours of the night, drunk laughing and crying, and making dumb jokes until they started talking about things they’d never really touched on before. He’d ask her about her abusive father and she’d ask about his neglectful parents, both of them answering any questions they had.

They started talking about how Richie was still a virgin, and how he really wanted to have sex but not with just anyone. He drunkenly confessed to saving himself for Eddie, but knowing that wouldn’t happen because he knew Eddie wasn’t ready for any kind of relationship with him. It’s like Eddie wanted nothing to do with him.

Bev saw a tear stream down his eye, and she shouldn’t have, she knew she shouldn’t have but she leaned in to kiss him, she told herself it was just to comfort him but one thing led to another and before they knew it, their clothes were off and Richie was tossing her on his bed. With Richie, it felt so wrong but more right than Bill. In Bev’s head, it made sense.

The morning after, Bev had woke up crying. She wasn’t weeping.. it was more like soft sobs. Richie woke up and asked her what was wrong. She didn’t know.

“Is it because of Bill?” Richie asked, his face full of concern.

“No, and that’s the worst part.” She managed to squeak out between sobs. Richie just held her.

Bill was the last thing on her mind, and while she felt bad, she didn’t linger on the thought too much. She knew they wouldn’t last.

No, she just felt wrong. She always felt wrong. She liked it so much that she wanted to do it again and again and it filled her with shame. Guilt. She told herself she’d never be into it, not after her father ruined it for her. But still, she was. And she was disgusted with herself.

She finally told Richie after she couldn’t take her thoughts anymore. Richie assured her that she wasn’t wrong for feeling the way she did. That it was okay, and he had a great time. He was glad she did too.

She looked up at him, not understanding why he was so sweet to her. She didn’t deserve it, she thought.

This time it was Richie that leaned in to kiss her. She was shocked because he wasn’t drunk, and neither was she. She almost forgot that people don’t need to be drunk to have sex. She also forgot that it’s not really recommended. Eventually she melted into it. He was getting handsy and pulled back to let Bev know she can say stop at any moment and he would.

But she didn’t.

And that morning, Richie had went down on someone for the first time in his teen years, and Bev had her first real orgasm.

That’s when she became addicted to it.

Few years into high school, and Bev and Richie were still the best of friends. Not making things weird or “official.” Just two best friends that kiss sometimes (and sometimes that do more than kiss) and then act like it didn’t happen the next day. Almost all the time.

Before school started, Bev broke up with Bill. She knew what she wanted now and she wasn’t going to use Bill to get it. She always knew he was a sweetheart, and that he deserved better. She didn’t tell him what happened with Richie, and she made Richie promise he wouldn’t say anything either. Of course he did, but only if she did the same. She also didn’t tell Bill that she was gonna go around, chasing the high that she’d get from Richie, but with other people. He was heartbroken enough, she wanted to spare him at least some of the heartache.

Most of the time she’d just sleep with Richie. At first it was just convenient, and she trusted him, and him only. But then she realized it was because she didn’t feel comfortable with anyone else. She hadn’t realized it but she was falling for the boy. The thought would creep up in her head but she’d make it go away as fast as it appeared.

But all of that changed when Richie and Eddie started officially dating.

She wasn’t jealous, she couldn’t be. She loved him so much and was happy when he finally got to have the boy he pinned over all throughout his childhood. She knew he’d be happy.

She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t feeling a little lonely though, seeing as Eddie would take up all of Richies time. Of course she had the other losers, but it wasn’t the same. They didn’t understand her like he did.

And of course she lied, she was a little jealous that someone took her best friend away. But she had to suppress it because she knew her and Richie would never work.

Richie loved Bev too, but not like he loved Eddie. She knew that. She understood. She also knew she was incapable of loving someone. Or having anyone love her for that matter. She knew he loved Eddie and Eddie only.

She only started to question it when she started to sneak into his house through his bedroom window, sophomore year of course, after yet another rough night with her father. He knew. He understood. He was there. In more ways than one. Some nights he’d just hold her. When she was shaking, when she couldn’t stop crying, and especially when she couldn’t muster the words to tell him what had happened. Other nights she would be beneath him, asking begging him to make her forget. And he would. Because he loved her and wanted to show her. But the thought of love was questionable now because if he could do that to Eddie, what would he do to her? He and Eddie had only been together a few months then.

Eventually she realized what he would do to her.

One night she had biked over to his house, covered in bruises and blood. That night it had been really bad. She went over and climbed up his window, knowing the path up the tree all too well. His window was unlocked, his bed was made and the light was on. Except Richie wasn’t there. She looked over to the bed where there were fresh, clean clothes and a towel underneath them. She knew what it meant.

It was a silent “I can’t do this anymore, but i’m still here for you.” She knew that’s what it meant because for them, words never had to be exchanged. They could speak through gestures and they would just know.

She ended up leaving and finding a quick fuck on tinder. He ended up bruising her up even more. At least he got her a room and stayed with her until they both had to go their separate ways.

Sophomore year had ended and summer began. Bev and Richie were more distant than ever. She knew it was bound to happen but she never prepared herself for it. But that didn’t mean she was going to steal him away from the person he loved most.

So she took matters into her own hands. Once she realized she could be in control of her body, she started to get a little out of hand. She started talking to more people at school, trying to figure out if they were into her or not. She debated going on tinder again but there were so many missing person flyers all over town and she didn’t wanna end up on one of them. Not like that anyway.

She felt more comfortable with people she kinda knew. That was until she got involved with one too many football players. When school started up again, they began their “locker room talk” and once a lot of the boys figured out they had sex with the same girl, they’d tell everyone and label her a slut. Bev ended up being one of those girls. It got around school and even back to the cheerleaders which some of them had experimented with Bev that same summer too. Of course, they’d never say anything about it, mostly because they weren’t sure about their sexualities, but that didn’t stop them from bullying her either. Including Greta.

Greta Keene was the main one that ended up torturing Bev. Which was sad really, considering all the nights they had together. It was almost like Bev had found her replacement. She just forgot how cruel people can be.

She was forgetting a lot of things. Once the rumors were spread, some true, most of them not true- she forgot that she had friends she could trust and talk to and tell them what had happened. But she was scared mostly. She knew the losers didn’t believe the rumors anyway but she also knew that a part of them wondered.

So she distanced herself. First time with Richie, second time with the whole club. It wasn’t intentional, but she knew that if she kept up her actions, they’d be concerned. Or they would leave. And you can’t be left unless you leave first, right?

Bev felt like her life was in the gutter. That nothing mattered and nothing was real. She didn’t care anymore. She didn’t care about anything. Not about the rumors at school, not about the people taunting her and calling her a slut every 5 minutes, and not Richie. Definitely not Richie.

She still did what she thought was best for her, and if that meant drugs too, then drugs it was.

She wasn’t into anything hardcore, but she loved downers. She loved the fact that she could take a pill and it would make her numb and forget the events of that day, or the one before, or even after.

She changed. And everyone noticed.

The losers grew concerned. They’d see her walking down the halls, hair looking shaggy with baggy clothes (because anything she wore that was her size would get her called a ‘slut’ much more than it does when she wears clothes that isn’t), big shoes and sometimes when she would things her size, they could see the bruises on her arms, the cuts and scrapes on her knees and elbows, the hand shaped marks on her throat. She’d stretch and while her shirt rode up a little on her waist, you could marks on her hips too.

They were scared for her, and they knew something was up. They loved and care for Beverly so they weren’t going to let her go that easy.

One day, Bev skips out on school and all the losers noticed. It was weird, no matter how much she got bullied or beat (by Greta and her bitch clique and sometimes the Bowers gang), she’d never miss a day.

That’s when they all decided at lunch to skip their last three periods to spend it looking for her. They checked her house first, her dad telling them to fuck off and leave her alone, and if she went out and got herself killed then that was her own damn business. It made their blood boil, it made Richie wanna sock him right there and then. But Bill being Bill, just said thank you and walked off. Made Richie wanna sock him too.

They went to the barrens, quarry, clubhouse, everywhere and she was nowhere to be found. They headed back to school, heads hanging low in defeat, worried about her. They didn’t know what else to do but wait until her dad decided to file a missing person report.

The last bell rang and they all headed home, Bill told the rest of the losers that he would try to come up a plan to see what more they could do to try and find her. He didn’t wanna give up, although the rest of the losers already had.

Richie was walking Eddie home when he cried to him and told him that he shouldn’t have pushed her away the way he did, and that it was all his fault. Eddie just held him, not understanding the relationship the two had. He told him that everything would be okay anyway and that they would find her. Richie just nodded and continued to walk him home.

Eddie offered him to spend the night with him, like he had been doing all year but this time Richie politely declined. He doesn’t know why but something was telling him to go home. Go home and check.

He doesn’t tell Eddie, just tells him he might be coming down with something and that’s enough to make the hypochondriac stay away. For that night at least.

Richie kisses him goodbye and heads on home. And sure enough, there she was. Sitting in his steps, fumbling with something in her hands and mumbling to herself.

He throws his bike to the side and rushes over to her, asking her if she was okay or hurt. She just laughed.

She reeked of alcohol and had a small brown pill bottle in her hands. It was empty.

He kept asking her questions and grew more concerned when he see that her eye had been swollen shut. She was crying, but laughing at any question Richie had.

She was fucked up, it wasn’t hard to tell. Richie didn’t ask anymore questions and just helped her up. She refused but he still managed to get her up. While he helped her up the stairs and into his room, he asked her what she was on. She didn’t respond. He was growing frustrated but settled for asking her when she was sober. He helped her get cleaned up, and saw to her eye when she got out of the shower. He didn’t know much about first aid, but he knew what Eddie taught him.

She stopped crying and she was just silent, her eyes fluttering like she couldn’t keep them open anymore. When he was done, Richie set her down on his bed and held her while she slept. “Love you, Richie.” was the last thing she murmured before falling into a deep sleep.

Of course it hurt him, and of course he blamed himself. She needed him and he dropped her like she meant nothing to him. But it wasn’t like that. Now he wishes they could’ve just talked. If he hasn’t been so caught up with Eddie, maybe they could have.

It was 7pm the next day when she woke up. She seemed very confused, and was surprised when Richie was beside her, talking to Eddie on the phone. He wrapped up the call once he saw that she was awake, he had questions and he was going to get them. He was determined. He hung up and just sighed when he saw the state she was in.

“Bev, you’ve gotta tell me what’s been going on with you.” He says with a soft tone as he sits on his bed, facing her. She can barely look at him, feeling anxious and embarrassed. But she knows she can trust him.

“I-I havent been doing very well lately.” Is all she can manage to say. Then she starts to cry again. And just like he would before, he held her. He calmed her down and waited until she was ready to talk.

And when she was, she confided in him. She told him everything, how she’s been sleeping around to get by, how she found a specific drug that helped her sleep through the nights her dad wouldn’t let her, how some of the rumors at school were true, and how much she missed him and the rest of the losers. She told him that she didn’t wanna leave them the way she did, but she didn’t want them to leave first when they found out about her.

When she was done pouring her heart out, he just looked at her and hugged her. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.” He whispered as he wrapped his arms around her. She was still for a second, but then wrapped her own arms around him.

And they remained in their position for a while. They didn’t talk about their little ‘situation’ they had gotten themselves into, nor did they want to. They hardly ever did. They just sat in silence for comfort.

After that months flew by once again, and things felt normal again. Bev got used to the bullying and harassment from her classmates but she didn’t have to deal with it alone anymore. The losers club made them back off actually, defending Bev until it got them suspended.

They didn’t care though, they wanted to show Bev they actually care about her and that she’s not alone. She learned to appreciate them more than she already did.

They started having more sleepovers than usual so that Bev wouldn’t have to stay at her dad’s so much, and they started calling her and checking up on her.

Richie was always making sure she was okay and telling her to text him whenever she got home or if she was going anywhere and back. Just to keep tabs, making sure she’s alright.

They didn’t sleep together anymore, and neither of them minded. At least that’s what they told themselves. Bev had a few fuck buddies since Richie, one of them being Greta.

“Why the fuck would you still be fucking her?” Richie exclaimed after Bev confessed that she was still fooling around with her despite being harassed by her and her clique.

She just shrugged. She couldn’t tell him it was because she couldn’t fuck him anymore, she didn’t want to pin anything on him. And she couldn’t tell him that she kind of liked the abuse.

Bev had all sorts of kinks that she wasn’t ready to talk about with just anyone, and she knows she could trust Richie, but she still feels a bit embarrassed and ashamed.

Before they knew it was summer again, and that was the first time they were all together again in a long time. Her friends changed and she didn’t even realize it. But so did she. She found comfort in knowing that they would accept her no matter what. And that she would too.

Senior year was the best year for the losers, but as well as the worst. They called it their Slack Off year. They had done so much work the years before just to be able to call it that. They’d have 3 classes the whole day and the rest were free periods. Their work really paid off. And it was so much better knowing they were all going to be at the same college. It would be an understatement to say they were excited for next fall. It was until someone new had come into the picture and changed everything.

Her name was Criss. She was new to Derry High. To the town in general.

Beverly swore she loved her. And she swore Criss loved her back. And how they came to be were the losers’ guess but they were happy for her nonetheless. Things with them were great at first. Bev finally seemed happy to have someone by her side at all times, happy to be lovey dovey with, and just happy in general. Beverly was in love to say the least.

The rest of the losers were obviously happy for her, but if anyone had asked Richie what he thought about Criss, he wouldn’t say what he was really thinking. He avoided the question if he could.

But then they started to notice the red flags in Criss, and they weren’t so sure about her. They’d notice when she’d lie about little things, the way she’d grip Bev’s arm when she was mad, the insults she’d scream at Bev whenever they were in a fight, the scenes she’d make when things just wouldn’t go her way. One time Bev showed up at the quarry with a freshly split lip, and they knew it wasn’t her father because she wouldn’t stay at her house anymore. They hated it, and they knew Bev hated it too.

Except Bev didn’t hate it- that much, because Criss wasn’t that bad. She’d ignore the losers when they expressed their concerns for her because she knew who she was deep down. Most importantly she was loved. That feeling alone was enough to make her fly high into the sky. She couldn’t imagine being with anyone else. She only hated the fact that she fell for a person who ended up not being what they said they were. But she convinced herself it was okay, and that she would be able to handle her. She loved her, and if that meant putting up with mild bruises and screaming matches, then so be it. She was just happy that someone loved her.

It wasn’t until Beverly caught her with Greta in her bed, that she knew it was too good to be true. That was the first time she felt her heart shatter. She didn’t go to the losers when she first saw them together, she went on a walk all by herself and not because she felt stupid, (oh but she definitely did) but because if she didn’t, she was convinced she might’ve offed herself. Sometimes she wishes she did. And all the shame, guilt, and embarrassment had returned. She didn’t believe in anything at all anymore.

dont be a stranger and lmk what u think <333 part two will be out soon!

#it 2017 #it 2021 #the losers club #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #beverly marsh #beverly marsh fanfic #beverly marsh angst #beverie #reddie #angsty reddie #stanley uris #mike hanlon #ben hanscom #bill denbrough #bowers gang #bi bev #everyone’s bisexual LOL

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