#her last name was really the only thing I had to think about her full design romantic status etc. just rushed in

[xetlynn]

Can I ask for claggor x a piltover reader? She was raised in piltover and is very smart but was never ignorant to the condition of zaun and always tried her best to advocate and help the suffering people. I can imagine she would have a strong sense of guilt for loving claggor because she doesn't really understand the struggles he went through but will always try to help. <33 thank youuuu

Of course, I think I made this a little more dramatic than I meant to😭 but I hope this is good!

Arcane Imagines- Claggor

Mysterious

[arcane] [main page]

Prompt: In which reader is from Piltover and makes a friend in Zaun. Feeling guilty for liking him since she doesn't understand his struggles.

My feet achingly moved seemingly before me. My back hurt as I carried a box full of stuff from Piltover to give to a friend in the undercity.

When I was younger I was so fascinated by the people of Zaun. About the difficulties they’ve been through. My mother was always bitter about them. Going on tangents about how the people from the undercity should be more grateful since everything is better now. And whenever she does that I have to remind her of their struggles to get to this wonderful position they’ve been creating for themselves. Supporting them only pisses her off further than before. She asks what about Piltover’s struggles which is never the point of my argument. 

We’re privileged enough to never know what it’s like going without food, running water and a roof being over our heads. Most of Zaun could or still to this day can not say the same. It’s something I’ve written about in school essays, joining groups to learn more about the undercity. 

As a younger teen I snuck into Zaun, wanting to understand them better, know them rather than read about their history. Hear it from the people themselves. I won’t truly ever know their struggles but I still wish to help them. Advocate for their history and their growth as a community. Help them be one with Piltover eventually without there being discourse of if they deserve it. 

Everyone deserves happiness, love, and a life without ridiculous danger. They deserve peace as much as the next person.

I was reckless when going to Zaun. Sneaking out of my house as a teen and somehow to the undercity without being caught will forever blow my mind. The reason I kept doing it though was after I sat down in this bar. It’s called The Last Drop. I just needed a place to rest after walking for miles. 

Talking with the people there. Not really a scene a young teenager should be in but I didn’t care. I just wanted to listen to their stories. And they always enjoyed having me around. Seeing me as a niece of some sort.  Hearing the first one made me want to hear more. Hence why I kept coming back. And more recently there's a new reason.

I met a new friend. His name I still don’t know. He never properly introduced himself to me. Not by his birth given name but by the first letter. He wanted me to guess. 

It’s been 3 months and he has yet to tell me what it is. Or in his words I didn't guess good enough.

I guess his father was the owner, Vander is his name. I’ve met him a few times but I never sat up at the actual bar. Just in a corner keeping to myself before I went to adventure out into Zaun after hearing random stories.

When I met C he had started working more hours at the bar to help out since it was getting busier and busier after some time with people from the Uppercity decided the place was a hit. I guess he worked earlier shifts so that’s why we never crossed paths when I first started going there. 

C and I hit it off slowly in the beginning.  

It was a rough start since we both had different upcomings. I didn’t know what it was like to have to get my hands dirty and work for things I want or need. I’ve always just… had it. 

Talking about C’s childhood and things he went through as I had nothing bad to say except for the fact that my mother is a witch of a woman. It made me realize how weird I am for being so interested in others' lives. It made me realize I don’t have a life of my own. I want to fix people who don’t need to be fixed. They’re perfect the way they are, no matter what they went through. They don’t need me to stick up for them. I also figured out that I’m falling for a friend, who again… I don’t know the name of and we will never share a similar story. He deserves someone who understands the same livelihood he knows. Someone who can appreciate things more than I ever could.

“[Name]!” A voice shouts, shaking me from my thoughts. “C!” I grin, shimmying the box in my hands. “Is this everything?” He takes it from me with furrowed eyebrows, looking it over. “Mhm, every single thing you asked for.” I place my hands on the back of my hips, stretching to crack my back. Letting out a small sigh of relief afterwards. 

“You alright?” He asks with a chuckle, leading me into his apartment that he and his brother share. “Yeah, I definitely got my exercise in for the day.” I half-heartedly joke, shutting the door behind us and he places the box down on the counter. “What is the food for, exactly?”

When he first requested the stuff from me, he told me it was for an experiment. Not really saying much after that. A few foods and then things you can really only get in Topside. 

“To eat.” He grabs an apple and bites into it. My shoulders fall, not expecting that answer. For some reason I thought it was going to be something cooler. “Oh.” I let out a breathy laugh. “I was hungry when I was putting in that request.” He rubs his stomach sadly. 

I shake my head with a smile. “It’s okay. So can I know what this project is now?” I hop up on the barstool in his kitchen. “It’s a secret.” He says briefly, putting the food away in his counters. I frown. “Dang, keeping another thing from me, C?” I tilt my head. 

“Gotta keep you on your toes, by being a mysterious, interesting man. Don’t want you getting sick of me.” He quipped, now giving me his full attention after placing the box on the ground. I glanced down at it then back to him. “I’ll always find you interesting. Maybe even more if you just tell me your name.” I pout.

Have I mentioned that I don’t know his name? No? Yeah, don’t know it. 

“Soon.” He reaches over and messes up my hair. I smack his hand away. Attempting to fix what he did. “I hope so.” I cross my arms. 

“I wish you could guess it. You didn’t even try hard enough.” He exclaims, my jaw drops at his words. “I can’t think of anything else! It has to be some sort of crazy unique name!” I utter, throwing my hands in the air. He lets out a belly laugh, “It’s not super unique.” He shrugs his shoulders. 

“Whatever.” I roll my eyes, jokingly annoyed. “I told you my name.” I murmur. “That’s because you’re not mysterious like me.” He purses out his lips, doing a little peace sign. “I know almost everything else about you. You are not mysterious.” I point a finger at his chest. “Really? What’s my favorite color?” 

“You tell people it’s blue but it’s actually yellow. Like dandelion yellow.” I raise my brows, making a face that expresses that he should try me. “Okay, pssh, lucky guess. Favorite food?” 

“Halibut, but only when it’s fried because you’re weird.” I tease, his eyes seem to widen at my words. “See, not so mysterious, huh?” I cross my arms. “Two things. That’s all you answered.” He walks away over to the living room. Plopping down on the couch. I stand up, rushing over to him. Bouncing on the cushion beside him. My hands holding his shoulder as I shake him. “Then ask more questions. I have the answers~” I sang out, leaning back. 

“Fine, how old am I?” He raises a brow. I put a finger on my chin, pretending like I was thinking. “21.” I simply say. “Okay, I never told you that. How’d you get that?” He scrunches his nose in confusement. I laugh. “Honestly I truly guessed that time. I’m 21 and I always figured we were the same age.” I snicker. 

“Wow, okay. Next question, how many siblings do I have?” I think back to conversations we’ve had or the time I bumped into his brother Mylo. He always talks about a girl named Powder. I want to say there’s one more though. I just can’t remember…

“... three?” I estimate. “Or two.” I perk up my posture. “Hm, it’s three. You really do listen.” He hums out. “Yeah, it’s Mylo, Powder and I’m sorry but I don’t think I ever got the last one’s name.” I press my lips together, trying to rack it in my head. “Violet. She passed away when we were younger.” He sighs, I look at him through my eyelashes not wanting to make full eye contact as my heart drops.. 

“I’m sorry.” I whisper. “It’s alright, [Name]. You didn’t know.” He gives me a smile. It goes silent between the both of us. “Um… can I ask how? If not I totally understand. I don’t want to push that topic.” I shake my hands at the thought of forcing him to say something he wasn’t comfortable with.

“We were doing a stupid thing in Piltover. Sneaking into someone’s house. Just trying to get a few things for our dad. Extra money in his pocket. Something exploded. The impact unfortunately killed Vi.” He seems spaced out as he tells the story. I reach out and grab his hand.

I remember when that incident happened. It was all anyone talked about for a while. An undercity child passes away in an explosion after breaking into a scientist’s home. My mom… was an ass about the situation. 

“Any more questions?” I make an effort to switch the conversation so he doesn’t get upset due to my questioning of his sister's death like the dumb idiot that I am.

He looks down at my hand that was on top of his. “Claggor.” He suddenly says. I scrunch my eyebrows together. “Claggor?” I question, was that something I had to answer? “My name.” He mutters out. 

My mouth goes into the shape of an 'o.' Claggor... An interesting name for an interesting man like him.

“Hm… cute. It fits you.” I squeeze his hand before letting go. I didn’t even notice the dusty rose color across his cheeks. He mutters out a small thanks before we continue the conversation of me knowing certain things about him.

The entire time I think back to his sister, my chest aching. They were only kids trying to help their father. Not knowing that one of them wasn’t going to make it back home. How devastating. 

“You okay, [Name]?” He sits up, turning his body to face me. I fake a smile, waving him off. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Just thinking. Sorry.” How am I supposed to be his friend if I carry guilt that has nothing to do with me? How can I like him and not be able to understand him? It’s idiotic looking. It makes me look selfish, turning other people's problems into my own. “Thinking about?” 

“Your name. How I never guessed it.” I force out a chuckle that sounds like a high pitched animal making me wince in embarrassment afterwards. “Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks me again. 

“I’m fine, Claggor.” His name rolls off my tongue easily. Like it was meant to be said from my lips.

“I remembered I have somewhere I need to be. My mom will kill me if I’m late. See you later?” I ask him, blinking tears away as I abruptly get up. “Um, yeah. Tomorrow?” He gets up with me, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ah, I can’t. Family thing.” I lied. “Oh, maybe the next night? Mylo wants me to go to this party where his crush is djing. I do not want to go.” He laughs, walking me to his front door. My stomach flips, not knowing how to respond. “Maybe, I’ll let you know the day of.” I swallow down the lump in my throat. “Okay, okay. I don’t mean to cling. I just like spending time with you.” He smiles softly. I avoid eye contact. “Me too, Claggor.” I whisper before pulling him into an embrace. 

He lets out a small yelp of surprise before his hands slowly snake around my waist. “You’re a good friend, [Name].” He mumbles into my shoulder. Tears begin to threaten my eyes once again. “You’re a better one.” I pat his back before letting go. “See you.” I curtly wave before leaving. 

Man, I’m an idiot. 

It’s the day of the party, I haven’t left my bed since I came home after leaving Claggor’s house. My head racing with a million thoughts about how selfish and ridiculous I am. Cringing at all the conversations I’ve had with my friends about the Undercity. How incredibly obnoxious it always sounded. 

How strange I look just being this upset about everything. I wonder if Claggor thought the same about me. How strange it was that a girl was so wrapped up into his struggles. I would never want to tell him that either because I’m overthinking. I know I am. 

He’s my friend. He would tell me if I was being over the top.

Right? 

Right.

Stop it brain. 

A knock at my door echoes in my room. “Yes?” I call out, not bothering to get up. The door creaks open. “[Name] there’s someone here to see you.” A house worker tells me. I sit up, tilting my head confused on who would be here. “Um, tell them I’ll be right down.” I say, climbing out of bed. “Yes, ma’am.”

I grab my robe from my vanity, throwing it on over my pajamas. I slip my feet into my house slippers. I look like a mess but I don't care. It’s probably just a school mate to ask about some homework we have. 

I exit my room, heading down the stairs. I see Claggor and my body freezes in place. Staring down at him. Shit. I look like a mess! And that is not a school mate. 

He was looking around my home before his eyes locked with mine. His face erupts into a smile. “Just wake up or something?” He teases and my face flushes in response. “Uh- yeah, slept in.” I awkwardly chuckle, walking towards him. “How’d you know my address?” I asked him. “Also, why are you here?” 

“Well, first I bumped into one of your friends I met before. She told me you lived here. Second ouch, I can just leave if you want me to.” He points to the front door and I roll my eyes. “Sorry, sorry. I was just wondering, I was gonna come to you.” I cross my arms, and when I do his eyes flicker down to what I’m wearing.

Suddenly I’m extremely aware of how I look. My hair a mess, face puffy, and wearing a fancy robe with slippers. Weird combination. 

“I felt like when you left yesterday it was a bit… off? You seemed like you were about to cry so I thought I’d come here and maybe talk to you about that.” He fidgets with his hands, I observe his demeanor. He seemed extremely anxious. “Oh, I told you I was fine. Might’ve had something in my eye.” I shrug lying straight out of my teeth. 

“You know how I said you are not mysterious like me?” He asks. “Vaguely.” I smile but not understanding why he’s saying that. “It’s because you aren’t a mystery at all. Maybe I’m not either since you seem to know quite a bit about me. Anyways, not the point.” He lets out a heavy breath. “You don’t hide your emotions well. You’re an open book just by looking at you.” He chuckles and I tense up, feeling a little offended. He notices and sighs.

“What I mean is, when I first met you I knew you were a very empathetic person. Your emotions are what drives you to be who you are. I really enjoy that about you. I never thought someone could cry over a bug they killed until I met you.” He laughs at the memory of when we were hanging out one day at the bar and a bug was on the floor by my foot. I stomped on it and immediately felt bad. Thinking about the fact that it could’ve had a family. 

“You care so deeply for people you’ve never met. Wanting them to succeed even if it means you are risking your own happiness to do so.” He says softer than all his other words. “I hope you know that you have never upset me by asking your questions.” His eyes find mine and I open my mouth to say something but nothing comes out. He read me like a book. He practically studied me. I don’t even know how to respond. 

“I know that’s why you got upset. My sister passing away. I don’t mind that you asked. It happened as unfortunate as it is. You didn’t know and you wanted to. Because you care.” He places a hand on my shoulder. I look down at his arm then back to his face. “Please don’t feel bad for caring.” 

My eyes begin to water and I pull him into a hug. “I don’t deserve your friendship.” I mumble into his chest. “I think you do.” He disagrees. 

“I like you, Claggor.” I told him. “Like a lot. I care for you more than anyone else I’ve ever met. I’m scared that I can’t be what you need. I want to be. Everything and more.” I confess, pulling away from him. “Did you know that? Was I not hiding that emotion well either?” I try to uplift the mood. 

“I didn’t have a clue actually.” He grins. “I like you as well. Like a lot. You are everything I need and more. I promise you that.” He pulls me back into his arms, looking down at me as I look up at him. 

He closes the distance between us, his lips landing on mine. It was a short, soft kiss but it was something I never felt before. Shivers sent down my spine. I flutter my eyelids open, both of us smiling ear to ear like giddy little kids. Taking in the moment for a few seconds.

“Does that mean you’re going to join me at this party that I’m soooo excited about?” He sarcastically asks and I giggle in response. “I guess so. I definitely need to clean myself up first though.” I motion to my hot mess of a state that I’m in. “I think you look beautiful in this. Don’t even need to worry about changing.” He jokes and I lightly hit his arm. 

“What a liar.” I fold my arms. “Hm, maybe a little. Want me to come back to pick you up?” 

“You could hang out in my room while I get ready. Maybe choose my outfit?” I propose and his eyes light up. “Yeah, let’s go.” He happily responds. 

[xoxolilixx]

❤︎𝙇𝙚𝙩'𝙨 𝙛𝙞𝙭 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩❤︎

𝙃𝙤𝙗𝙞𝙚 𝘽𝙧𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙭 𝙗𝙞𝙢𝙗𝙤 𝙜𝙛!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

✩𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 - Hobie finds out the real reason for you being popular around headquarters, and his honored to fix the problem.

✩𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙨 - SMUT...with plot. A bit of sexism, name calling (whore, tramp), pet names, virginity taking, oral, unprotected sex(WRAP IT UP), crying

✩𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 - this is based on my Hobie brown x bimbo!gf oneshot, but it's not a part two or anything of that nature, but if you want to go back and read that, you can find it here. Anywho, I hope you guys like this story❤️😘

Hobie wasn't a chatter, not even close, but ever since you and him became a thing, he tried to make himself a lot less unapproachable. Instead of sporting a serious, straight-face and expression 24/7, he carried a soft smirk most of the time. The difference sounded small, but honestly it made him seem a lot nicer. More people started conversations with him when they saw him, he was let in on topics that no one bothered to talk to him about before. Topics like you.

Hobie always wondered why it caused such a stir when you and him got together, and it boggled you just as much. If only you knew what people was saying about you. Now, it wasn't a secret to you that people knew you. You were a social person and you talked to a lot of people, but what you didn't know was what people were talking about when you walked away.

Hobie was walking through one of the halls of headquarters, hands in his pocket as he stalked down the hall in his usual attire, the only thing that was different was the bright pink bow that was tied to one of his back belt loops, courtesy of you. "Hey man, you got a little sum back there!" Someone joked as he walked past. He couldn't help but chuckle as he turned to the person who was in the hall. He never cared to learn the names of the people around headquarters, so he definitely didn't know his name, but nonetheless he still interacted with him. "I know, my girl did it," Hobie smirked. "Your girlfriend that real girly one, with the short ass skirt and shit?" The guy smirked, the description of you made him internally twitch with irritation. "Yea, what about it?" Hobie smirked as he tried to keep his cool. "Ya know, almost everybody is plotting on her, right?" He smirked, pushing himself off the wall as he walked closer to Hobie, "she's like…top wanted in all of headquarters." "Really? Why's that?" Hobie's smirk hid his urge to throw him through the wall. "You really don't know? She's the only whore that still has her virginity," the random man laughed, "after that get together last month, everyone been trying to be the first to pop her cherry. It was honestly surprising, giving that she dresses like a complete tramp--" Hobie couldn't help it anymore, one super-powered punch later, and he was laid flat out on the floor. He couldn't help but think this is what he got for trying to be nice to people as he stomped away, his objective now to find you.

You weren't hard to spot, all that glitter and rhinestones made you look like a walking star. You were chatting with Gwen, a sweet smile on your plump, pretty lips as you rambled on about god knows what. It would've made his heart melt if he wasn't so irritated. You barely had time to register his arrival as he came over and scooped you up onto his shoulder like a stack of potatoes, "I gotta borrow her for a second," Hobie uttered to Qwen as he stomped away, a hand holding your skirt down as he carried you away. "Hobs! What's going on?!" You giggled, your legs kicking a little bit as he carried you to a secluded area.

"Love, what happened at the get together?" His rushed tone stirred up worry in your chest, "why?! What happened?" You asked softly, your big doe eyes full of worry as you looked up at him. "Just-- tell me what happened darling. Tell me everything that happened," he sighed softly, realizing that his tone ushered you into a worried state. "Well…nothing really… everyone was chillin', having fun, we started drinking, and we played a few drinking games and after that, gwen took me home cause' i got too drunk," you shrugged. "Then why are people talking about something that happened at the get together and how your a virgin and all this other shit love?" He sighed softly. His hands rested on your hips as a look of embarrassment and realization washed over you. "We were playing put a finger down, and someone said put a finger down if you've had sex, and I was the only one who didn't put a finger down, and everyone made a big ass deal about it," you explained softly as you looked down. He stood there for a second, his expression blank as he processed the information before letting a chuckle out. Was that seriously it? Everyone had the hots for his girl because she admitted to being a virgin?

"Is everyone really still talking about that?" You asked softly, embarrassment evident on your face. He couldn't help but chuckle some more. "Sadly darling, you're a bit of a hot topic~" he said, a sympathetic smile on his face as his thumbs rubbed circles into your hips. You let out a whiny groan as your face fell into your hands, "oh my god~ I was hoping they would forget about that, what's even the big deal?!" You whined as your face fell into his chest, his arms wrapping around your shorter frame as he shook his head at how stupid this whole thing was. People were over sexualizing you because you wasn't sexually active.

Suddenly an idea popped into his head, causing a smirk to spread on his lips. "How about you let me fix it?" He smirked, making you look up at him with a questioning look, but as soon as you see the smirk on his lips you know what he means. Intimacy wasn't hobie's favorite thing, but shit, he willing to do damn there anything for you. "You for real?" You asked softly, your embarrassment melting away into nervousness and excitement. "Of course darling, let me show you how good I can make you feel~" his voice sultry as his big hands gripped your waist "let me fix your problem, love."~

Your head was spinning. You felt hot and everything felt like it was moving too fast and too slow at the same time. Your heart was pounding in your chest and you were a inch away from breaking into a sweat and what made it worse was nothing even happened yet. "Jus' say the word love, and I'll stop, okay?" His tone was lighthearted but his gaze was serious. The nervousness was coming off of you and waves, and he only wanted to make this easier for you. "M'kay hobs~" you uttered with a little nod of your head. You were on your knees atop his bed, looking up at his towering figure. He was trying his absolute best to ignore the mind-numbing throb that was coming from in his dick as he looked down at the sight. He had a perfect view of your cleavage and the way your big pretty doe eyes looked up at him made him wanna shove his dick down your pretty throat.

"Go on and lay back f'me love," he gently ordered, and you mindlessly obligated, sweeping your legs from under your body, swinging them off the edge of the bed as you slowly laid back, giving him a good view of your entire body. Your thick chubby thighs and wide hips paired with the little chubbiness of your tummy and your perky tits sitting prettily in your hot pink bra that peaked out of your white tank top sent him mentally flying. "You ready darling?" He asked, his voice soft and caring.

With a simple nod from you he sprung into action. His hands sliding up your bare thighs, slipping under your sparkly pink skirt as he gently rubbed and gripped them before spreading your knees apart. Your heart thumped out of your chest as you watched him lower himself down to his knees, making his face level with your heat. You propped yourself up onto your elbows as you watch him bunch up your skirt. Hobie's cock twitched in his pants at the sight before him; you were wearing hot pink lacy panties, which matched your hot pink bra, and he could see the outline of your soft pussy lips and swollen clit through the soaked fabric. "Fuckk" he breathed as he paced himself. The sound you let slip past your lips when he gently pressed the pad of his thumb into your clothed clit made it harder for him to control himself. He had to remind himself that this wasn't for him, it was for you.

His thumb circled your clothed clit a few times before gently pushing on your sobbing hole, coaxing a few soft whines out of you before finally hooking his fingers onto the sides of your panties. You eagerly lift your hips as he tugs the flimsy-and damp- fabric down your legs. Hobie was happy to see that your nervousness were slowly melting away, being replaced by eagerness and excitement. Hobie's mind spun wildly as he caught a glimpse of strings of your wetness pulling away with your panties, you were fucking soaked.

You let out a breathy giggle as you watch him pocket your panties, but your giggle quickly turns into a moan when you feel his finger slip in between your folds. He could feel you clenching around nothing, he didn't even have a chance to slip is finger into you. "Relax darling, I got you," he cooed as his other hand reached up to rest on your lower stomach his thumb rubbing soft circles into your skin as he slowly slid his finger in. Fuck you were tight, he could only imagine how your tightness felt wrapped around his cock and he almost came in his pants.

You quickly found out that Hobie was a pussy drunk, his tongue deep in your soaked cunt as his thumb rubbed tight circles into your clit. You couldn't even squirm away from him as he coaxed moans and whines from you, his strong arms were wrapped around your thighs, keeping you right where he wanted you. You thought you were gonna die the first few minutes, but once he found the spot in you that made you moan the loudest, you were a goner. He was a messy eater too, the sound of him suckling hard on your clit only made your walls clench, which only made him suck and lick harder as he groaned deep in your pussy.

By time he finished his meal, you were two orgasms deep and your cunt was filled with slick and spit, the same mess that was on his face. You panted as you watch him get up off of his knees, thankful for the break, but your mind went wild when you heard his belt buckle and his pants zipper. Hobie chuckled at the sight of your eyes widening when you saw how big he was. 8 inches of pure girth. How the hell was that gonna fit in you?! "Hobs, I don't think it's gonna fit~" you whimpered softly as your thighs subconsciously closed. He could see the fear and nervousness written all over your face and he couldn't help but coo at you.

His hand gently grabbed your jaw, forcing you to take your eyes off of his lower region and lock eyes with him before deeply kissing you, his tongue slipping into your mouth. Your eyes rolled back as you tasted yourself on his tongue as it explored your whole mouth, a long string of saliva connecting you both as he pulled away. "Don' worry love, I got you, okay?" He cooed softly, earning a soft nod and a "m'kay" from you. "Remember, jus' say the word, and I'll stop," he reminded you. You were starting to relax again, allowing him to spread your thighs apart with his torso, until he reached down, grabbing his length so he could guide it in you.

His cock was twitching in his hand, leaking precum from the tip. It left you feeling excited and scared. He was just so big, but all your thoughts disappeared out of your mind when you felt his messy, precum slicked tip start to push past your folds, making you clench down as your head lolled back.

You were a complete and utter moaning mess, but Hobie stayed patient with you, pausing whenever you clenched too tightly and constantly comforting you and coaxing you through it. The sight of you under him, face scrunched up with pain and pleasure as strings of moans and whines spilt past your lips as he sunk deeper and deeper into your pussy was enough to make him cum now. "You doin' so good f'me darling, good fucking girl, so wet, so fucking tight," he grunted into your neck, sucking hickeys into your soft skin, his eyes rolling back as you clenched around him at his words. "Hobs! m'cant~ your too big~" you whined as your walls choked his dick. He looked down in between you, you didn't even make it halfway. " shhh i know love, but imma need you to relax for me. It'll fit, jus' stay with me now ," he grunted as you whined out, your cunt milking little bits of cum out of his dick.

By time you got past the halfway mark, you were in tears, clinging onto his arms, which was holding him up on either side of your head. His heart ached slightly as you looked up at him, tears spilling down the sides of your face as you panted, "d-did I do it? Is it in?" You whimpered, making his head spin, it felt disgusting how much it turned him on to see you crying like that. He bit back a groan as he looked down between the two of you again. His whole body momentarily went weak, your small, tight, weeping pussy, stretched wide around his dick. You only had two inches left. "Almost darling, your doing so good f'me, yea? Just a little more, okay? You ready?" He cooed softly, kissing away your tears. "m'kay~" you whimpered.

If he kept dragging this out with you, he was gonna bury before he even got a thrust in. He braced himself before slammed into you, forcing the last two inches into your pussy. Your eyes widened and a silent scream left your parted lips, wincing at the pain as Hobie quickly wrapped a arm around you, holding you close. "Fuckk~ good fucking girl, see love? I got you, its all in now. M'so proud of you darling," he could feel you clenching around him at the praise as you whimpered into his neck, fighting off the urge to scream out.

"Soo fucking big~" you cried softly as you slowly got used to the large intrusion. "Shh I know, I know love, but your doin' so good," he cooed as he waited for the signal to move.

Before you knew it, he was fucking you dumb, jerking your body deeper and deeper into the mattress with each thrust. The mixture of moan, whines, screams, and incoherent babbles left your lips as he held the back of your knees up, giving him the perfect view of your small pussy getting abused by his cock as you left a gorgeous ring of your juices around his base. He watched as your eyes rolled back when he hit that one gummy spot in you, groaning as you clenched down on him tightly. He would sometimes give your cheek a soft tap whenever your watery eyes rolled back, wanting to make sure you were still coherent enough to tell him if you wanted to stop, even if he knew that you wouldn't want to.

It only took a good few more thrusts in the right spot for you to cum all over his dick, clenching so tightly on him that he could move as you screamed out, forcing him to cum too as he groaned into your neck.

You both were a panting mess, your hair messy and hickeys all over your neck, and his arms all scratched up and his mouth and chin still covered in your slick. "m'like when you fix my problems," you panted softly, earning a deep chuckle from him.

[zith-ipeth]

Dog Days Diary: Home and the Holidays. Self and Celebration

Hey everyone

Tomorrow, in America, kinda marks the start of the winter holidays, with thanksgiving, and the beggining of the Christmas season. I figured that for anyone still here I should give an update.

I’ve been very lacking with posting, I used to regularly post everyday, but as the world catches up to you, you sometimes have to slow down, but anyway, here’s some things that’s are happening

Tomorrow, for thanksgiving, my mom suggested we have all my trans friends who don’t have places to go over to ours for thanksgiving and homely vibes. We’re a bunch of queer weirdos and it gives me a reason to wear my ears around my extended family

I still havnt heard back from the place that was gonna do a psych evaluation on me. This is frustrating but not surprising.

My mom has warmed up to my being dog actually quite a bit, she doesn’t really react oddly when I get in my gear before leaving the house, and has been laughing at my brothers corny dog puns.

I had my first shift! It only lasted around ten minutes but I was playing and barking and bowing with my dog for a while, just chasing each other and roughhousing, it was honestly magical.

Im questioning whether im one person. This one needs some explaining and may get its own post, but a fragmented bit of myself has a number of distinct traits, when when im in the fragmented state, i like being called a different name? And I don’t feel like me, entirely, like im a different girl. I’ve mostly been calling her “The Other Girl” when talking to my friends and partner about all this. But she has a name I think she likes. It still feels weird to call her it, just as it feels weird to even suggest I’m plural at all. But whatever it is, me and my therapist are talking about it, and it seems my trauma hurt more than I thought. (If anyone has links or advice hmu I’m so fucking lost still)

I finally picked up the pen again, and finished a proper ref sheet for my fursona Bellsi! I’m really proud of myself for that one, it’s been a big win to start doing art again.

I know this has been a long ass slog of a post. But if you read it all

Hi, happy holidays if you celebrate. If youre able to express yourself around your family this holiday season, I’m so happy you found that confidence. If you can’t express yourself, it will come in time, I promise. Stay safe, warm, and full.

And keep your hearts and homes open, wonderful beasts

Run fast, bite hard, bark loud

Peace, love, and gratitude

-Zith Ipeth

[baocean]

enchanted - trevor zegras

summary: your friends dragged you to an nhl game, even though you had no interest in any of it. something caught your interest, quick, a brunette hockey player who kept glancing into the crowd.

warnings: smut, extremely long fic, that’s it 😛

authors note: my first nhl fic omg! i hope you guys liked it, im looking to write more! pls drop ur opinion below!!!!! let me know if you want to be added to my taglist ⭐️ enjoy, muah

“i really have homework i need to do.” you frowned at your friends, they laughed as they brushed you off.

your roommates were pulling you out of the apartment tonight for an anaheim game, despite your many protests.

anika’s dad was the equipment manager, and had gotten front row seats to the game tonight for her and her roommates.

it was saturday night, which meant you didn’t have classes tomorrow, but still had things to do. homework due.

you were grateful for anika’s dad for thinking of you, but you really did have bio homework to worry about.

that didn’t matter, because an hour later you were sat in the arena, the glass only five feet in front of you.

anika to your left, isla and charlotte to your right. you had already grabbed a diet coke, getting comfortable in your seat.

the crowd cheered as the home team skated out onto the ice for warmups. you clapped a few times, anika bumping you in the shoulder.

you watched as the players skated around the ice, gracefully passing a puck between them. some were stretching, some were quietly talking to each other in the corner.

one, in particular, was making laps around his side of the ice. your eyes caught onto him, following along so easily.

his dark hair trickled out the back of his helmet, his chain falling just above his jersey.

he circled back around towards where you and your friends were sitting, so confident he couldn’t see you.

and when his eyes flicked to you for the first time, your heart dropped.

he kept them on you, skating past you. his head turned, in effort to keep staring.

after antagonizing seconds of his stares, he finally turned back towards the ice, flicking a puck in front of him.

“holy shit, bee. i saw that.” isla turned towards you, her face filled with shock.

you wanted to laugh at the nickname she used. your friends picked it up when they first saw the picture of you at four years old dressed as a bumble bee. they’d been calling you ‘bee’ ever since.

you smiled and shook your head, hiding the blush on your face.

“i don’t know what you mean. he was not looking at me.” you looked back at the ice, and sure enough, there he was, looking right at you.

he turned to talk to another player, and you finally got to read his jersey, zegras.

“you’re full of shit.” isla laughed, tapping your leg. you laughed along, leaning into her.

slowly, the players started trickling off the ice, until zegras and one other player were the only ones left.

he did a few more laps, shooting some pucks.

when he passed you, his stick flew up to hit the glass, making you jump.

he turned to look at you, sizing your reaction, giving you a smile when he saw you laugh. then, he disappeared into the tunnel.

“oh my god. trevor zegras totally likes you.” anika grabbed your shoulders.

“trevor.” you let his name rattle around in your head, taste it on your tongue. “are you crazy? he doesn’t even know me.”

“don’t care, he’s in love.” anika shrugged you off, definite on her opinion.

the first period started, the ducks starting out strong. anytime trevor was on the ice, it was like you were in a trance. it didn’t help that he was so good at hockey.

the game flew by much faster than expected, all with trevor’s help.

it was over before you realized. the ducks coming out to the middle of the ice to celebrate.

they tapped their sticks, trevor’s eyes involuntarily falling to you.

as the players filled off the ice for one last time that night, you watched as trevor lifted his hand to wave, just enough for you.

you returned it, wiggling your fingers as you smiled at him. he dipped his head, and disappeared.

sunday morning came much quicker than you would have liked.

the early morning drive across two towns to get to your childhood home was something you would never look forward to.

but, your brother had his first day of hockey camp. both your parents worked. so, you were the only option to pick him up and drop him off at the rink by your house.

he was sitting outside your house when you pulled up. he hauled his gear and sticks into the back of your car, sliding into the front seat.

“morning.” you smiled at miles. he smiled back at you, but didn’t say much the entire drive.

when you got to the rink, you both headed inside. miles left towards the locker room, you headed towards the table where you could sign your little brother in.

the lady at the front table was nice and welcoming, offering a pamphlet to you.

you were looking down at her, watching her as she explained the events that will happen over the next few weeks, each saturday and sunday.

she was cut off by a “carla, do you have a roster sheet for me?”

you looked up, barely registering who had walked over before a swear word fell from his lips.

trevor stood in front of you, skates on and hands gloved, looking utterly stunned.

your face probably had the same look. you blinked, maybe you were dreaming. the cute nhl player was not standing in front of you right now, at your brothers hockey camp, no way.

still, he pulled his glove off, stuffing it in his armpit, reached out to shake your hand. “i’m trevor. nice to…meet you?”

the last bit came as a question, you laughed, told him your name.

his lips tipped up in a smile, secretly soaking in your name, how it sounded.

you let go of his hand, but stayed where you were to memorize him. his hair flipped out under his beanie, his smile lines, the roughness of his hands and how soft his face looked.

"well, i gotta go, y'know. you got a kid playing or something?" he looked almost worried to ask the question.

"brother."

"okay, have fun watching, see you after?" trevor's voice was filled with hope, searching for the same feeling he had in you.

"yea, see you after." you nodded, watching as he walked away towards the rink entrance, knowing he would look back. he did, just before the door closed.

he was euphoric on the ice, so graceful and balanced while doing something, anything. he looked up from where you were in the stands a few times, never waving, just confirming you were still there.

he caught up to you in the lobby almost immediately after the two hour skate was done. his cheeks were red, and he was a little bit sweaty, but looked just as pretty as ever.

"what'd you think about it?" he asked you. though you didn't have much to say, trevor listened like it was the most important thing he was hearing.

you were about to compliment him, take a leap of faith, when- "bee, can we get food on the way home?"

you turned to see you brother glance between you and his new coach. trevor's face scrunched up, "bee?"

you sighed, "it's a nickname. sure, miles, let's get going," you turned back to trevor, "it was nice meeting you."

"you too. you'll be here next week?" he asked, taking a step towards you, like he wasn't ready to let you go yet.

"sure." you gave him one last, sweet smile as you walked out with your brother, ignoring miles' glances.

the next weekend, you were there again, dressed a little bit better, makeup and hair done with slightly more effort.

trevor was waiting by the booth, where carla was sitting, offering you a familiar smile.

once again, miles peeled off towards the locker rooms, trevor meeting you in the middle of the room.

"you look good." he offered, drinking you in like you've known each other for years.

"thanks, trevor." you cocked your head to the side, the shorter pieces of your hair falling in your face.

"was thinking maybe i could get your phone number? invite you and your friends to another one of my games?" calm as ever, trevor grabbed his phone out of his sweatpants pocket, unlocking it and handing it to you.

you didn't say anything, just put your number in and send a simple text to yourself. handing his phone back to trevor, he smiled and typed on the keyboard.

flashing his phone at you, you took in the 'bee' contact name, rolling your eyes within seconds.

"not you too." you groaned, pushing your head into your hands. trevor memorized the light pink color of your nails, the rings on your fingers.

"me too, baby. gotta go, i'll text you." he gave you a tooth rotting smile, rushing off into the locker room.

he hadn't given the nickname a second thought, calling you like he had been his entire life.

watching him skate would never get old. maybe it was how fast he could skate, how visibly strong he was, how when he was focused on a play, his tongue would poke out. the movements of his body and how he'd chew on his gloves when he was off in his own space.

whatever it was, you wanted more of it, alone. you shifted in your seat, watching the clock count down, unbearably slow.

when the zamboni started onto the ice as players shuffled off, you made your way to the lobby, like always.

it was easy for him to spot you out in the crowd of parents and grandparents, having your features engraved into his mind since the night he met you.

a simple conversation, some adventurous glances and hopeful smiles, before your brother came out of the locker room, looking at you like he'd caught you in the act, a tradition.

that night, he'd texted you, you were back in your apartment. sitting on the couch, your computer you were working on dinging. 'unfortunately i cannot stop thinking about you', followed by a 'well, not unfortunate', then 'i may need to see you sooner than thursday night'.

you sat there, almost stunned. he had so casually thrown around words so genuine like that.

'what did you have in mind?' you replied, going back to your work, only to be pulled away a second later.

'i might go to a concert with my friends tomorrow, i can grab you a ticket. you like 21 savage?'

tomorrow you had a major test due, you still said yes, anyway. abandoning your laptop, you rushed to your anika's room, searching for an outfit.

"i can't believe you're going out with trevor zegras. im in shock, i think." anika laid on her bed, an hour later, after successfully picking an outfit that she said 'would have trevor falling to his knees'.

"were not going out, im just going to a concert with him and his friends." you shrugged her off, admiring yourself in the mirror.

"oh my god, bee. what did he say? he couldn't stop thinking about you?" anika sat up, her blonde hair falling around your shoulders. you couldn't help but giggle, shrugging your shoulders.

"that's what i thought. you need to tell me everything tomorrow. im talking second by second, play by play, i need to know."

he had picked you up an hour before the concert started. it was the first time you'd seen him with short sleeves on, your breath staggered when you caught sight of his arm, covered in a sleeve of tattoos. you were fully, completely entranced with trevor, in the worst way possible.

the car ride was filled with trevor and you bickering about songs, his horrible singing, and him sneaking mesmerized glances when you weren't looking.

he and his friends had booked a private room to the left of the stage, fixed with an array of food and a private waitress for drinks.

"bee, this is cole, jack, quinn, and jamie. guys, this is bee." trevor pointed to each boy. you went to correct him, but lacked on reasons to. you liked the way it sounded coming out of trevor's mouth, the way he said it with so much bliss.

it was much later into the night, the music blaring through the arena as trevor's friends stood off on the other side of the balcony connected to the room, singing away.

trevor mouthed some lyrics every once in a while, you knew because you couldn't help but sneak flashes at him, he looked so good in the light.

he leaned forward to take a drink of his beer, and when he leaned back, his hand slid onto your knee.

your poor heart couldn't help but swoon, everything he did, he acted so comfortably, so homely around you. everything he does to you, he acts like its been done a million times. that doesn't stop him from asking, "is that okay?"

you nodded, snaking your hand up and around his neck, your fingers twisting and curling around his hair on the back of his neck.

it was so innocent, so high school, and yet, your mind raced. the thoughts of what could come, from a hand on a knee and fingers in hair, you wanted to laugh at yourself. you were sure the beer from trevor's cup you kept sneaking was not helping.

you'd been like this for what seemed like hours. hands on shoulders, knees, thighs, hips, but nothing more. the simple act of showing the other they were feeling the same way.

the concert was ending, the stream of people below you filing up the stairs towards the exit. you, a little tipsy, and trevor, completely captivated by you and how soft your skin was, followed his friends out the room and into the hallway.

trevor grabbed onto your hand when it got crowded, not needing to look back, he was so aware of you.

it was a long walk to get back to trevor's car, losing his friends along the way, waving goodbye to them, never letting go of trevor's hand.

"you look magical right now." trevor said, his car was in sight, you were so close.

"what?" you laughed, skipping along with him. you had so much energy right now, you were pretty sure you could run a marathon.

"i'm not sure, i just look at you and thats the word i think of." he laughed along with you, the sound of it ringing through your ribcage.

without a second thought, you pulled him towards you, his body swinging around to face you. grabbing onto his arm with one hand, and wrapping another around the back of his neck, you pulled him down to kiss him.

his arms wrapped around your waist, so easily, and leaned into you. he kissed so sweetly, yet so desperately, like he was begging for more.

he gave you three pecks, the last one, his teeth pulling your bottom lip out, letting it pop back against your teeth.

your stomach dropped, not from fear, or anger, from the overwhelming sense that you would let trevor do whatever he wanted, whenever.

"let me get you home, bee." he whispered, pulling you towards his car, opening the door and helping you in.

you spent the car right home, his hand on your leg, your head on his shoulder, as he told you stories about his career over the years.

when he dropped you off, you kissed him once on the lips, he kissed you once on the cheek, said 'goodnight bee', then left you at the entrance of your apartments, enchanted.

your apartment was filled with music and laughter from the four girls living in it. clothes thrown on floors, makeup and hair tools spread across bathroom counters, a bottle of titos and an emptied orange juice bottle abandoned in the kitchen.

isla was deciding on a orange or black jacket, you pointed to the black one, she put on the orange. charlotte was finishing curling her hair, anika and you were sitting on the couch, checking when the uber would arrive.

like he said, trevor had given you four tickets to his home game against the leafs tonight. he wasn't able to text you much these past few hours, but he'd told you he was excited to see you and he'd arrange you guys get down to the locker room after the game.

once your friends were ready and stable, you were in the uber towards the stadium, singing along to the lyrics, taking pictures with isla's digital camera.

the seats were still front row, but not near the tunnel like they were last time. this time, they were right next to the duck's penalty box.

warmups started, the players rushing out of the tunnel. you, obviously, blown away when trevor stepped out onto the ice, immediately clocking where you were sitting, smirking.

like he had done the first time you had met, when he passed, his stick flew up to hit the glass in front of you, scaring you once again. you rolled your eyes, but couldn't help laugh with your friends.

the game was going well, the ducks up one goal with ten minutes left in the third period.

you watched as trevor tussled with another player in the corner, lifting his elbow up, connecting it with the guys jaw, knocking him back.

the whistle blew, and suddenly, trevor was sitting next to you, only a piece of glass separating you two.

you looked at him, knowing he probably wouldn't look back, scared cameras could catch him, people would catch on.

instead, he turned his head towards you, smiling. "hi, baby." he mouthed, tapping the bud of his stick on the glass before turning back, grabbing a water bottle and squirting from it.

you were so intensely infatuated with him, everything he did. the way he wasn't afraid to address you in from of tens of thousands of people, the way his jaw moved as he squirted water into his mouth, the way he squirted water into his mouth.

you weren't able to see him directly after the game, you only received a text, 'go down the hallway under the stairs in entrance a, tell the guy ur name, ur on the list'. bidding your friends goodbyes with hugs and making sure they made it to their uber, you ventured down the hallway.

once you made it past the man, who's name was brian, you found yourself in a parking garage. you spotted trevor leaning against his car, wearing a navy suit, his hair wet from a shower.

you walked towards him, trevor looking up from his phone, a smile lighting his features. "hey, bee. d'ya like the game?"

you nodded, fingers gripping his jaw as you pulled him into a hard kiss. not caring if anyone saw you two, his hand grabbed your neck and hip.

pulling back, you took a struggled breath, so overwhelmed with bliss. "now."

"now?" trevor breathed, the same level of love drunk. he nodded with you, opening the back door for you, following you inside.

he laid on top of you, kissing you with twice as much neediness. hands going everywhere, under your shirt, up your leg, through your hair, lacing with your hand.

unbuttoning his shirt, untucking it from his pants, and tossing it on the floorboards, you sighed. he was an angel, truly.

his hands played with the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head, throwing it on the ground, letting it introduce itself to his.

his hands, much larger than yours, pulled any other fabric, pants and bras and underwear, out of the way, lightly nipping at your nipples, sending shocks through you.

"you are absolutely, without a doubt, the most beautiful girl ive ever seen." trevor whispered. you weren't sure if you were meant to hear it, but it still sent shivers down your spine.

trevor angled himself down in-between your legs, pushing one finger into you, drawing an anticipated moan out of you.

his left hand sprawled out against your stomach as his right hand worked you, whispering affections.

"you're so pretty. like a dream." he hummed words so dear, so easily. it had you squirming from above him.

his thumb came up to rub your clit, you arching your back in response. "can't take it, can't take it, trev."

"you can, baby, you got it. go 'head, bee." his words drove you over the edge, the feeling crashing over you, flattening you.

not for long, because trevor had flipped you, your legs wrapped around his now, chests aligned.

"can i?" he asked, his hands on your hips, ready. you nodded, watching his eyes drop towards where his hand was meeting the two of you.

as he slid into you, he threw his head back, groaning. you mimicked his actions, hands grabbing onto his hard shoulders.

the car was warm, the windows fogged, filled with the sounds of each others breathy moans and his kisses on your neck and cheek.

you started bobbing up and down, draws moans and huffs from the boy under you each time.

his hands stayed on his hips, guiding you, while he let you roam your hands on his chest and shoulders and neck and hair, anywhere you pleased.

"you feel so good. made for me, huh, bee?" trevor gasped out, his head falling back once more.

he was telling the truth, you felt like heaven, like silk and gold. truly, like you were made for him.

"i was made for you, trev." you whispered, inflicting a reaction out of him, his dick twitching.

his hand fell where you were connected, fumbling with your clit again. he watched as your face contorted, as you whined and moaned, and came again.

you watched as he smiled, love drunk, and continued his pace as he leaned his head back.

you grabbed his chin, like you had the plenty times before, so familiar, pulling it up for him to look at you.

"cum for me, trevor, cum in me." you whined, partially impressed you got all that out, feelings of sensitivity and pleasure overwhelming you in every sense.

his head dropped again, this time on your shoulder, as he finished.

you stayed like that for a while, breathing heavily, hands still wrapped around shoulders and held tightly onto hips.

then, trevor was laughing. you perked up, questioning him.

"its just, if you told me the night we met, that the gorgeous girl he saw, he met again and was actually into him, he'd probably cry then and there. i'm lucky, is all."

you weren't sure what to say to that, so you laughed with him, then pulled him in for a kiss.

his eyes fluttered open, pupils blown out in complete and utter bliss. "you wanna sleep over tonight?"

[ochrearia]

ether

I'm normal (lying) and I needed to put this somewhere so bad and it's still not enough but YS I'm sorry. I'm making you suffer even more but you need to understand we're basically the same at this point and you're really the only bitch that I can pretend like feels exactly what I feel. Fuck. RGBFverse prompts aren't just silly fiction anymore

Every damn prompt in the last two or so days has been real. Been me. I feel like that was obvious

BFs in this one-shot: Yourself (YS)

God it was getting rather ridiculous now. Could he even blame it all on the angelic instincts anymore? Sure, they certainly didn’t help, but that wasn’t… it wasn’t quite the same. At least, YS wasn’t really sure if it was or not. The guardian angel thing, that was more of a possessive protectiveness that flared up practically any time he saw or thought about his people he’d attached to. Which, good god, he was understanding why angels didn’t attach to this many people. It was bad enough to have one person taking up all your thoughts on any given day, because you were hard-wired to dedicate yourself to them, but he was at what, fifteen now? Probably more. And he wasn’t stopping his erratic attaching either. He’d probably keep making that number go up. Not like he was known to make good choices.

But this felt a little different. YS was no stranger to working himself up into trances over the sheer amount of sappy, sentimental thoughts he started getting over any given brother. And it wasn’t like those thoughts were specific to one idea. The protectiveness rang true in those trances and made itself known through his half-aware mumbling. And paired with it came thoughts of love, and appreciation, and everything in between he had no idea how to name.

But… were the trances even because of his angelic instincts? Or did he just feel so damn deeply about things in general? Suppose YS couldn’t really recall feeling much of these trances before he started meeting all of his brothers. Maybe he had thoughts pooled together like this about her, and he was sure of that but he probably just never considered it as a “trance”. Because it’s not alien to just love your girlfriend that much that you think every nice thought possible about her, right? And he used to be able to kiss her any time he wanted, show properly his affection and she’d understand it. Maybe feel it too.

So what the fuck was going on here? Every time his brain snagged on a thought about a brother it was like a fucking disaster was set off. YS very much didn’t care in terms of ‘what affection he could express’ compared to what he ‘couldn’t’, because it was all going to slip out at some point eventually. If you asked him, he was technically not allowed to express any type, because he didn’t deserve to, but Beefer would sooner crash straight through his mirror in full dino form and try to like, eat him or something. Because he could tell when YS was being an ass to himself and was sticking very clearly to his ‘job’ of butting in before it kept going.

God his heart. YS was going to die it felt like, because fuck, why did his heart have to ache so bad thinking about his brothers? Tripping himself up over the fact they cared about him, dizzying his own mind over the concept of being loved by anyone, much less this many people. And yeah, okay, sure, they were all technically the same person. And there was probably some merit to his previous idea of reality getting confused when there were two or more of them in the same world. Getting so cuddly for nothing because it felt like they had to become whole again despite not being fractured at all. But this was just… something else.

He loved so hard. Holy fuck, he really did to the point it was debilitating. That’s really what it was. It was debilitating, completely paralyzing him on the spot despite things he needed to be doing. It was so much, almost all the time, it took days sometimes for the ache in his chest to go away for a little, only for it to come back later to torment him again. It was like YS almost couldn’t breathe sometimes, thinking in a spiral of how much love he had for the people in his life now, people loving him back, caring for him, quite literally making him want to wake up to be alive tomorrow so he could keep them in his mind again and maybe even spend time with them. Family like he’d never experienced before, because angels in his world didn’t really care about each other. Couldn’t, when they had others to attach to.

God YS had so much of it to give. That was all he really wanted to do. Give, give it all, drain his heart to empty and still continue giving because he could, and that’s what his brothers deserved and more. Giving the world to the people he loved. For the asshole he believed so much couldn’t want things, he wanted this so badly. Give all of himself away, unhealthy mindset be damned. He would do anything for his people. Because he cared. He cared, so much, and that thought was powerful enough alone to bring slight tears to YS’s eyes. Truth, raw and strong.

But that was the problem. He’d give everything. But he couldn’t give this feeling in his chest, the swirling in his brain, raw emotions that rippled in his body like tsunamis but were confined there. YS had no way to directly broadcast the exact things he felt, and it was like he was dying. Because it was all trapped and it wasn’t fair. Words weren’t enough, actions weren’t enough. None of what he’d been doing so far was enough no matter what he shared. And god, it was so bad, but he’d been describing it all with such negative words when it was literally the opposite.

He’d take being debilitated like this over any other kind of feeling, any day. Wanted this. Wanted.

This was… possessive. Very possessive. His brothers. Every single one of them. His. His to love and hold and appreciate, his to care for and lift up. And not a single damn regret about it. Too possessive? Probably, but this was all so new to him. He’d never done this before, in fact, he doubted that any angel had done this before. Attaching to this many people and feeling just as equally strong about each one. It was so much. And he could never give enough.

So important, all of them. Stuck in YS’s brain and he couldn’t get them out. And it didn’t matter how much he spoke about this to them, telling them point-blank that he loved them, holding them tight and not letting go until told, it was still just… not enough for what he felt in his heart.

YS’s heartbeat was freakishly slow. As were angel’s heartbeats. Probably didn’t help with the whole cold-blooded thing either. But every time he worked himself up into a trance, getting so mind-swirlingly loving, possessive, and almost needy, his heart would speed up. Noticeably speed up, because Beef had pointed it out before. God, he was so disgustingly sweet in his actions and that was mortifying to admit. Biff had a habit of saying it like it was though.

Tear my heart out of my chest, lay bare the ache it holds and feels because I cannot fucking take it anymore. I want you all to know. I wish I could perfectly convey it, I wish you could all feel what I feel, know how powerful my love and care really is, and if it’s too much then I’m so sorry. But it’s exactly what you deserve, and still more. Wonderful to me, kind to me, after all of my mistakes, stains on the world because of my wrong choices. People that aren’t here anymore because I didn’t do enough. But you’re all still here. And I know I have done nothing to deserve any of you.

YS felt like he was dying. But that was okay. If he got to die feeling so positively, then it would be his final victory.

God, I love you all. I promise. For the rest of my time here I will try to convey that as it is. For the rest of my time here I will work to repay and make up for everything I may put you through and you still stay.

For the rest of his time here. However long he’s wanted. And he hoped that would be forever, but that was usually never the case.

So he would love, like it would be over tomorrow.

[thebigqueer]

literally having the worst day ever and i cant ever be happy (has only experienced minor inconveniences today but they keep adding up)

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

Just remembered I have a psychiatrist appointment so early tomorrow. And I obviously dyed my hair so recently because there's green staining on my face. I don't think it's going to look great for the bipolar diagnosis, to disclose that I was feeling impulsive and wanted to get control over something, so I dyed my hair at midnight.

[zevranunderstander]

whenever i read a take on john gaius on here im just like. you don't understand him like i do

[creamecream]

Full Name: Cobweb Charlotte Arachne

Nickname(s): Webs, Webby

Age: 16

Gender: Female (she/her)

Species: Spider

Birthday: September 14th

Side: Royal (”Sounds like fun to climb up and slide down over and over again!”)

Destiny Role: The Itsy Bitsy Spider

Roommate: Unknown

BFFAS: Unknown

Romantic Interest(s): Apple White (girlfriend)

[runawaycarouselhorse]

Once upon a time I found May embarrassing because I was naive and clumsy and suffered a lot from my naivete, so I hated seeing folks online call naivete not a real flaw/just being "too nice"... but I was always very defensive of her figure and hated those who believed she must be much older just because she has an hourglass shape as a preteen. I was the same way and just a year or two older than her when I joined the fandom and AG was airing.

Anyway, I love her and feel proud of her growth in DP.

My favourite Pokemon characters are mostly characters who everyone else hates, though. ^^;;

Oops... I love Jessie and Iris and Trip... I love tomboyish and tough girls as well as foppish and sensitive boys (so, Wishfulshipping and Rocketshipping are everything--throw in a class difference and I love the ship even more!), lonely rich kids whose parents are never around make up a bunch of my favourites too (Marielle, Diana Konderick/Fanny Fox, Lillie...), proud and aristocratic young ladies but who are nonetheless very kind at heart despite eccentricities and treasure their friends (Lillie, Marielle, Victorique de Blois, and Shinku)... so many characters with abandonment and/or mommy issues (Lillie, Soma Yuki, Soma Momiji, Hina-Ichigo, and Jessie to a degree too, although she hides it ^^;).

Characters that struggle to connect with others, or even act ornery or cold, to avoid being hurt--often isolated, ostracized, bullied, or simply house-bound (Iris, Victorique de Blois, Marielle)... or literally just characters that either come off as arrogant due to extreme shyness and avoidance of others, or who genuinely hide behind a projected false image of confidence to hide genuine insecurities (hi, Trip.)

its unreal how all of my favorite characters have exactly the same traits and hobbies and diagnoses as me

[smileysuh]

ghostie

🌙 staring. Johnny x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. As one am rolls around, you start to realize that maybe tonight you won’t get a call. He is a frat boy, and this is Halloween weekend.  You’re disappointed as you get into bed, frowning as you scroll on your phone, hoping that if you wait another five minutes, maybe he’ll catch you. Five minutes turns into ten, turns into fifteen, and you find your eyes beginning to shut. You’re starting to understand how much you truly have come to depend on Ghostie as part of your nightly ritual. It hurts not to get a call from your favourite voice-modulated anonymous frat boy.

tw/cw. yandere/stalker subthemes, unknown caller, weed use, multiple reader orgasms, big dick!Johnny, oral, pussy eating, blowjob, deep throating, spit as lube, fingering, hand riding, dacryphilia, praise, dirty talk, cum/fullness kink, unprotected sex, heavy grinding, dick bulge, creampie, rough groping, slight restraint, size kink, submissive reader, subspace, dumbification, hair pulling, finger sucking, etc… I pet names: (hers) Tiny, good girl, pretty girl. (his) Ghostie.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 15k

🍭 aus. uni/frat au, yandere subthemes, Halloween, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. this might just be the best John fic I've ever written, or maybe I just need therapy

Sunday 

You pause your movie when your phone rings and you look down at the screen. The number is unknown, and you briefly consider not even answering it. However, you’ve had two job interviews in the past week, and you don’t want to miss any opportunities, so with a sigh, you bring your phone to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Tiny, how’s your night going?”

Definitely not a prospective employer. Your sorority gave you the name Tiny during first year, something to do with the ‘tiny’ shots you always want to take, and only those within the Greek system use it on you. On top of the Greek-specific term of endearment, the man on the other end of the line is using a voice modulator of some sort, and it makes it impossible for you to identify him.

Your curiosity is sparked. 

“Who is this?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

You sigh, leaning back against your bed and setting your laptop to the side. “I get that Scream is having a comeback, but this whole ‘calling a girl and being mysterious’ thing won’t get you laid anytime soon.”

“Are you sure about that?” You can hear a hint of laughter in the man’s voice.

“If you’re not going to tell me who you are, I’ll hang up.”

“We wouldn’t want that, now would we?” There’s a pause then, “Let’s just say, a mutual friend gave me your number. They thought we’d hit it off.”

“Whoever this ungendered mutual friend is, I doubt they expected you to call me with a voice modulator and act out a Ghost Face fantasy. I get that Halloween is a week away, but come on… you can’t be serious about this.” 

“I am serious. Come on Tiny, live a little.” 

“You’re awfully sure of yourself, aren’t you, Mister Ghost Face.” 

“I’ve got good reason to be, trust me on that.”

You let out a deep sigh, going through your roster of men who might think this sort of thing would be funny. “Yunho? Is this you getting high again?” 

“Wrong frat, but good guess. I didn’t know Alpha Tappa Zeta’s star quarterback was a stoner, thanks for the info, Tiny.” 

“Shit,” you mutter to yourself. You hadn’t meant to throw Yunho under the bus like that.

“It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone about his… habits. That would be hypocritical of me.”

You search your mind for the stoners you know. Ones who would have the balls to call you like this. 

“Do you want to take another guess? I’ll give you three chances. You have two more.”

Aside from ATZ, you spend a lot of time with Sigma Veta Tau. Soonyoung is a well-known blunt roller in the fraternity system, but he wouldn’t do a charade like this. He’s very open about hitting on you any time you’re at one of his parties. 

“Jeonghan?” you ask.

“Last guess, Tiny.” 

He doesn’t confirm or deny if you’ve gotten the frat right, but you can’t really see any other SVT members who would fit this mysterious man’s profile. 

Your mind wanders to Nu Chi Theta. They’ve got quite a few weed lovers there, and you’ve been invited into many closed-room smoke sessions with the dirty NCT boys. 

There’s Yuta, and he’d definitely have the gall to entertain a flirtation like this. However, you don’t know of any mutual friends who would ever set you up with him. With another sigh of irritation, you throw out the last name on your shortlist of stoner acquaintances. 

“Hyuck? Please tell me this isn’t you.”

“Close but no cigar.” 

“I don’t like this game.”

“You’re not supposed to like it, but it is entertaining, don’t you think?”

“What’s your angle with all of this?” you question. “If you’re not going to tell me who you are, then what’s the point of calling?”

The line is silent for a few moments. “I guess… I just wanted to talk to you a little, is that so bad?”

Your heart softens, if only momentarily. “Then grow some balls and ask me out like a real man.”

“Where would be the fun in that?” The mystery man lets out a short chuckle, and your irritation only grows. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re really annoying?”

“A few times actually.”

“Well, you’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met and I haven’t even met you.”

“Yes, you have.”

“God, I’m tired of this. Goodnight.” 

You don’t even wait for an answer, you simply hang up.

Despite trying to get back to your movie, you can’t get the mystery man out of your head. When you go to bed you can’t even sleep, your mind completely full of all the possibilities of who your caller could have been. 

You’ll have to do some digging tomorrow. You can’t not figure out who this guy is- and you know just the fratboy to give you all the details you could need.

Monday

Mark Lee is always fifteen minutes early, even when it comes to an 8am class. You feel like shit after tossing and turning all night, so when you slide into the seat next to him in the back of the class, he gives you a once over and his lips part in shock.

“Are you okay?”

“No, Mark, I’m not okay,” you snap, regretting it a moment later- after all, Mark’s not the one doing this to you. “Someone called me from an unknown number last night. A frat guy, I’m not sure who. He was using this voice modulator-”

“That sounds hella sketchy.”

“Super sketchy,” you agree. 

“I know it’s October and everything, but that’s a weird way to hit on a girl.”

“That’s what I said!” Mark always understands you. “He said a mutual friend gave him my number, thought we’d be cute together or something- whoever it was, I need to strangle them.”

“Is this friend a girl or a guy?”

“Mystery man wouldn’t tell me,” you groan.

“So… this dude could be literally anyone.”

“Not Yunho from Alpha Tappa Zeta, Jeonghan from Sigma Veta Tau, and not your roommate Hyuck. The guy gave me three guesses,” you explain, “the hint is that he’s a stoner.”  

“Lots of frat guys are stoners.”

“Exactly,” you sigh, leaning back in your seat. 

“What are you going to do if he calls you again?” Mark asks. “This kind of feels like stalker behavior.”

“It does,” you admit. “But at the same time, he calls me Tiny, and he says we’ve met before- when I asked what he even got out of the phonecall he said he just wanted to ‘talk to me a little,’ which, I don’t know, for some reason I feel like he’s not a stalker.” 

Mark gives you a look that says ‘You’re crazy,’ and after listening to everything that just spewed out of your own mouth, maybe you kind of agree with him.

 “So if he calls you again…” Mark reasks his earlier question, one you’d chosen to ignore.

But you can’t ignore it now, and you let out a deep breath.

“If he calls again… We’ll see what happens.”

“Tiny-”

“Mark,” you counter, knowing he’s about to chastise you. But you don’t want to hear it. If even he doesn’t have any idea of who your mystery caller could be, you simply can’t give up. If you never find out who this ‘Ghost Face’ dude is, you’ll feel unsolved for the rest of your life and you know it.

“Look, I’ll ask around a little,” Mark concedes.

You let out a squeal of delight, throwing your arms around your closet fratboy friend. He lets out a chuckle, gently squeezing you back. 

Mark’s a good guy. 

If only you were into good guys and not sleazy stoners calling you while getting a hard-on for being Ghost Face.

Monday pt 2

It’s nine o'clock and you’re starting to get tired while you study. You’re in need of a distraction, so when your phone rings with an unknown number, your heart practically jumps into your throat.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Tiny.”

“Wow, Mister Ghost Face,” you laugh, twirling in your spinny chair, “two nights in a row. You must really like me, huh?”

The laugh he lets out sounds genuine, even though his voice is obscured still. For some reason, the noise makes you grin, and you can’t believe you’re actually kind of having fun with this.

“I do like you,” the mystery man confirms. “Tell me about your day.”

“Tell you about my day?” You’re in shock.

“Uh huh.”

“No teasing or nothing? No three guesses about your identity?” 

“I’ll tell you what,” he lets out a sigh, “like you said, Halloween is in a week. If you keep letting me call you until then, I’ll reveal myself when you come to the party.”

“The party?” you repeat. “You make it sound like there’s only one frat party on Halloween.”

“Only one worth going to.”

“Is that so?” He’s so cocky- why does that turn you on? 

“Yup. In fact, I know you agree with me on this, because the past two Halloweens, you’ve come to my frat.” 

Your body freezes. He’s just given you a massive hint-

“So you’re an NCT boy?”

“Wouldn’t call myself a boy, and neither would you if you saw what's in my pants.” 

You swallow the lump in your throat, not sure how to even respond to the suggestive comment he’s just made. 

The man on the other end of the line lets out a chuckle. “Sorry, I’m two blunts deep. I should watch what I say to you, that's why I asked about your day.”

“You don’t have to- watch what you say, I mean.”

“Yeah?” You can almost picture him leaning back in a chair, a large half-chub growing in his pants- “Are you getting horny from a mystery man on your phone? Dirty girl.”

“Dirty guy,” you counter, “trying to entice me by saying your dick is big.”

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?”

“I’m intrigued,” you admit, “but not only because of your cock.”

“It’s a nice cock.”

“Okay, I’ll tell you about my day,” you sidestep. “Had an early class with Mark Lee, you must know Mark.”

“Of course.”

“Well, he has no clue who you could be.”

“You talked about me.” 

You can hear him smiling. 

“I bet you couldn’t even sleep last night. Too busy trying to figure out who I am.”

Okay, maybe he is a bit of a stalker. Or maybe he just knows you well… who the fuck is this guy?

“Stop being so cocky,” you insist.

“Tell me I’m wrong.” 

“Mark told me you’re probably a stalker, said I should maybe block your number.”

“I don’t have a number, if I did, that would be too easy for you. I’m an unknown caller… can you even block unknown callers?” 

“I guess we’ll find out when I block you.”

“Won’t happen though. What did you do after your class with Mark?”

“Are you really that interested in my day?” 

“I wouldn’t be asking if I wasn’t interested.”

He’s a cocky softy, who would have imagined. 

You wonder what you ever did to make this guy so sweet on you- you’ve dated men who don’t even care to ask you how your day went, and this guy is out here doing it practically for free.

“Classes were okay, my sorority had a little fundraiser at lunch, we baked cupcakes.”

“They were good cupcakes.” 

“Wait…” your stomach churns a little. “You stopped by?”

“I’m a sucker for cupcakes, and how cute your butt looks in blue jeans.”

You search your memory, counting how many NCT boys came through around lunch. You realize that there were far too many for it to do any good in deciphering which one is the man you’re currently talking to.

“Did we talk?”

“You talked to everyone who bought something. I’m not special.”

Except… he kind of is special, in a way you can’t truly explain… not yet anyways.

“Maybe you are a stalker,” you decide.

“I can promise you I’m not, but I bet you’d be kind of into it if I was.”

This guy makes you feel such conflicting emotions, you’re not sure how to even handle him.

“Look, I was studying when you called-”

“Right, you should get back to that.”

“I should.”

“Sleep tight, Tiny. It’s been nice talking to you.”

Part of you wants to return the sentiment, it feels second nature, but the words stop on your tongue. In all fairness, it hasn’t been particularly nice talking to the mystery Ghost Face guy. 

Instead of saying anything else, you simply hit him with a “Bye,” and you hang up the phone.

However, you don’t get back to studying, you immediately call Mark.

He sounds groggy as he says “Hello?”

“Did I wake you?”

“No.”

“I just got a call from that guy again. He’s definitely one of your frat brothers, and he’s high right now.”

“That doesn’t narrow it down,” Mark sighs. “We sort of uh… all got high at the fire after dinner.”

“Mark Lee!” you screech.

“Sorry, sorry!” Mark groans. “I’ll uh… ask around some more. We’ll figure out who this dude is.”

“And if we don’t… he said he’d tell me who he is at your frat Halloween bash at the end of the week.” 

It’s Monday now, and the party is on Saturday. That means you’ll only have to wait a few days… you can hold out for a few days… can’t you?

Tuesday

You read over the email a third time, but it doesn’t make anything better. The words ‘We regret to inform you that you have not been chosen for the position’ make your eyes begin to well with tears.

Quickly exiting your phone, you grab your things. You refuse to cry in the middle of the library-

The bathroom will have to do the trick, and you hurry to get there, holding back the choked sob that longs to slip out of you.

You’d thought for sure this interview would land you a job on campus. The interview had gone well, or so you’d thought.

You don’t even know why you’re getting so upset about this. 

There’s just something so devastating about rejection. 

You get to the bathroom quickly, shutting yourself into a stall before you allow the tears to fall again. You cradle your face in your hands, allowing the sadness to overwhelm you.

It’s important to have a good cry every now and again, and you definitely need this.

Your cries, however, are interrupted by your phone ringing in your pocket. Wiping at your face, you reach for the device, lifting it to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Are you okay?” 

“I really don’t have time for this right now, Ghost-” you groan, closing your eyes at the familiar voice-modulated sound.

“You do have time,” he insists. “Tell me what happened.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just saw you running through the library. Looked like you were crying.”

“I wasn’t crying!” you nearly yell. 

“Liar. Come on, Tiny, let Ghostie make you feel better.”

The affectionate-sounding nickname prompts you to wipe your eyes. “Are you sure you’re not a stalker?”

“I was in the library, don’t get your panties in a twist.”

“Was?”

“I’m gone now, can’t have you figuring out who I am before Halloween.”

“Would it really be so bad if I did?” you question. “It would make me feel better.”

“Look at you, using your bad experience to try to swindle me,” you hear him laugh, and there are more sounds now, as if he’s walking across campus. “Seriously, Tiny, tell me what’s going on.”

“Do you always walk around campus with a voice modulator?”

“It’s an app on my phone babe, now answer my question.” 

“You didn’t ask a question, you commanded me to tell you what happened, and I’m not taking commands right now.”

He sighs. “Will you please tell me what’s making you cry?”

Your lower lip trembles. “It’s stupid.”

“Nothing that hurts you is stupid.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

“It looked like you needed a friend.”

“You’re not my friend. You’re some guy who got my number and gets hard by pretending to be Ghost Face from Scream.”

“I could be your friend. Could be more than your friend. And I’m not hard right now. Not after seeing you cry.” 

You take a breath. “I applied for a job and I uh… they didn’t hire me.”

“Then they’re stupid.”

“Maybe I’m stupid.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I’m a girl who’s spent three days talking to a guy who keeps his identity a secret, and for some crazy reason, you’re actually making me feel better. That definitely makes me stupid.”

“No, it makes you soft. It’s one of the things I like about you.”

“Yeah?” you sniffle. “What else? And don’t say my ass in blue jeans.”

The man chuckles. “You’re soft, and kind. But you’re a fighter too. You’ve got a spark. Don’t even get me started on how smart you are-”

“And how would you know how smart I am?”

“For starters, you’re in the top-scoring sorority on campus,” he points out. “Whenever you come to trivia night, you wipe the floor with all of us. Mark talks constantly about how much you help him with his classes, which brings me to my next point, you care about charity. That’s a great sign of your character.” 

“You do know a lot about me, don’t you, Ghostie?” His words have stopped your tears, and you cradle your phone close to your ear. 

“Still not a stalker though.”

Now he even has you laughing. “Jury’s still out on that one.”

“You sound better already,” he muses. “Mark has a free block right now, I’m sure if you call him he’d take you for ice cream or something to distract you.”

“That’s a good idea,” you admit.

“I’m full of good ideas.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, Tiny.”

Tuesday pt 2

“This guy sounds like a full-on stalker,” Mark says for the sixth time as you grab ice cream and sit inside while a storm passes, rain splattering the windows.

“I mean, if he knew your schedule, I’m guessing he’s someone close to you.”

“He’s stalking us both, I don’t like it.”

“But he’s nice.”

“He’s stalking you, Tiny!” 

“He’s not!” you insist. “A lot of people were at the library today… honestly, I think… I think Ghostie is kind of sweet.”

“Ghostie?!” Mark stares at you in shock. “You’re calling him Ghostie now?”

“It’s cute, right?”

“It’s crazy is what it is!” Mark leans back in his seat, frowning. “This is giving me the creeps.”

“Well, it’s spooky season.”

“If I’m being honest, I don’t think any of my frat brothers would pull crazy shit like this. They’re mostly pretty chill dudes.”

“So you think he’s lying about being in NCT?” you ask, cocking your head to the side.

“I think he’s definitely lying,” Mark confirms.

“Well, agree to disagree.”

Mark studies you for a moment. “Look, the only guy who’s a freak like this is Yuta and he swore up and down to me yesterday that he’s not calling you with a fucking voice modulator.” 

“I don’t think this is Yuta.”

“Because you’re a Ghostie expert now, huh?” He scoffs loudly.

“Yuta’s not really a stoner,” you point out. “And besides, I can’t explain why I know it’s not him, I just have a feeling.”

“Yeah, is that feeling in your pussy by any chance?” 

“Mark Lee!” you gasp, scandalized by his choice of words. 

“Be real with me!” he insists. “You wouldn’t be entertaining this if it wasn’t… I don’t know, turning you on? Are you turned on by stalkers? Is this why you like Halloween so much?”

“Okay, maybe I am turned on, but that doesn’t make me a bad person.”

“It just makes you crazy,” Mark groans, running a hand through his hair. “I swear to God, when the dude reveals himself at the frat party, it better be one of my frat brothers and not a serial killer. And also, I’m going to fight him.”

“Something tells me he’d beat you,” you giggle.

“Now you’re trying to make me feel bad.”

“Says the guy who just called me crazy.” You grin, knowing that you’ve won.

“This whole thing is crazy.”

He has a point about that.

Wednesday

You’ve been waiting all day for a call from Ghostie, and it comes right before you’re about to head to bed. You practically launch yourself at your phone, putting it on speaker and saying “Hello?” as if you don’t know who’s on the other end of the line.

“Hey you, feeling better today?”

“You tell me, mister stalker.”

“I haven’t actually seen you today, it was a bit of a shame if I’m being honest.”

“Yeah?” God, this man has way too much power over you. “And why’s that, Ghostie?”

“Because I’ve been looking at your Instagram, but you’re cuter in person.”

“Do you follow me?” 

“We’re mutuals.” 

You’re mutuals with pretty much the entire NCT frat, it would have been more helpful if he’d said he’s not a follower, although, now that you think of it, that had always been unlikely. 

“Still trying to figure out who I am, aren’t you, Tiny?”

“Of course.”

“Remember when I was listing your good qualities? Patience wasn’t one of them.” 

“That’s so rude of you,” you say, although, you’re grinning at your phone.

“Here, I’ll make it better. I have an idea for you.”

“Let’s hear it then.” You get comfortable on your bed, wondering what he’s about to say.

“If you want a job, there’s this bar on campus, Skeets. Have you heard of it?”

“Who hasn’t heard of Skeets?” You roll your eyes. 

“They let just about anyone work there. A few of the NCT guys are bartenders, I’m sure they’d put a good word in for you with the hiring manager, he’s also a member of the frat.” 

You haven’t been to Skeets in ages, and you try to remember who you know amongst the staff. “Wait, you’re right- doesn’t Hyuck work there?”

“He does… This is the second time you’ve mentioned him, got something of a crush, Tiny?”

“Would that make you jealous?” you tease.

“I’m not the jealous type,” he states. “But yeah… it would.”

“Don’t get your Ghost Face mask in a knot, I don’t have a crush on Hyuck. In fact, if you turn out to be Hyuck and I find out you lied to me about your identity, I’m going to be really mad.” 

“I’m not Hyuck.”

“Good.” You consider his proposition for a moment. “Do you really think they’d hire me?”

“It doesn’t hurt to try.”

“You know, on Sunday, if someone had told me you’d be helping me find a job not three days later, I would have said they were crazy.”

“Guess I like to keep you on your toes.”

“I think you just have a major soft spot for me. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“I can’t. I promised not to lie to you.” 

God, he makes you so giddy it’s insane. 

“Are you going to come stalk me at Skeets if they give me a job?”

“Goodnight, Tiny.” He’s avoiding the question, and you can hear him grinning through the phone.

“Night, Ghostie.”

It’s the first time he’s the one to hang up on you, and it leaves you wanting more.

Thursday

Ghostie had assured you that Skeets hires just about anyone, but that doesn’t help the anxiety building inside of you as you prepare to take your resume into the bar. 

You even do a Wonderwoman pose outside while waiting for Skeets to open, breathing deeply to psych yourself up while you go over possible interview questions just in case the hiring manager wants a chit-chat today.

“I love working in a team environment,” you say quietly to yourself, closing your eyes and running through responses. “The most important thing is that the guests feel welcome.”

The sound of something dragging across the cement ground has you practically jumping, lids flashing open as your head whips toward the noise.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt your mantra,” the tall fratboy laughs, setting up the wooden sign with the daily drink menu just in front of the door to the bar.

“It’s fine,” you assure him, swallowing thickly. 

The man in front of you is Johnny Suh. He’s two years older than you, and you know him through Mark. When guys join a frat, they’re assigned a ‘Big,’ an elder frat brother to guide them through the process. Johnny is Mark’s big, and he’s always been nice to you whenever you’ve crossed paths.

You would call Johnny an acquaintance, not a friend, but he’s still a friendlier face than you may have expected to see upon your first moments interacting with Skeets staff. 

“You coming inside, Tiny?” Johnny asks.

“Yeah, sorry John, one sec, I just need another deep breath.” You wave your hand at him, turning your back and gulping down air while you hold your bag tight to your front, the resume within practically burning a hole in the leather.

The hot fratboy heads back inside and you finish calming yourself down. 

You can do this. You can get this job.

As you enter the bar that’s just open, you realize there are only a few staff members kicking around so far. Kim Jungwoo is rearranging chairs, and Lee Donghyuck is sitting on a table looking at his phone. Johnny Suh is behind the bar, and you decide you should probably talk to him, so you try to act confident as you walk through the small establishment.

Johnny’s brown eyes raise as you approach, and he offers you a small smile. “Tough day?”

“What?” You blink at him, settling against the bartop.

“You looked kind of off outside, and most people don’t come in to day-drink this early.”

“Oh, uh… I’m not here to day-drink.” You let out a tiny laugh. “Actually, I came to see if you guys were looking to hire new staff members, I brought my resume.”

You reach into your bag to pull out the papers, and you hand them over to Johnny.

His eyes scan the first sheet. “Wow, a cover letter, I’ve actually never seen one of these.”

People don’t apply with cover letters? The idea is kind of shocking to you.

Johnny hardly looks at your resume, setting it down in front of him to address you instead. “What makes you want to work at Skeets?”

“In all honesty, I need a job. I’m dependable, and I’ve got a decent schedule to work in the food service industry. I like working as part of a team, and I’m already friends with a lot of the staff here, so I thought it might be a good fit.”

Johnny nods, assessing you. “Have you bartended before?”

“I’ve got my qualifications to serve alcohol, but I’ve mostly had waitressing jobs,” you admit.

“At Skeets, we all do a bit of everything. Would you be open to learning how to mix drinks?”

“I’d be very open to it,” you nod. 

“Then let’s give it a shot,” Johnny smiles warmly at you. “You’ve got good timing, we actually just had to let go of someone for excessive drinking on the job. I was going to put a wanted ad up today, but looks like that won’t be necessary.”

“Are you…” you swallow thickly, “are you serious? I’m hired?”

“Yeah, why not?” 

You can’t help the squeal of delight that rushes through you, and a massive grin makes its way onto your face. You even jump a little, and Johnny seems to enjoy your excitement, smiling from ear to ear while you celebrate. 

“When can you start?” he asks next.

“I can start tomorrow! I mean, if you need me that soon.”

“Tomorrow is a big night here at Skeets, the Friday before Halloween. We could use the hands, but it will be a busy one, do you think you can handle that?”

You’re quick to nod. “Of course. But I uh… I should let you know, I can’t work Halloween, I promised a friend I’d meet them at your frat for the party.”

“Don’t worry about Saturday,” Johnny assures you. “Sigma Veta Tau has their frat party tonight, so it’s all us NCT guys working, and tomorrow we’ll switch. As much as Seungcheol is a good comanager, I don’t trust him to teach you how to mix drinks on Halloween.”

“So… you’re going to be the main person training me then?” you ask.

“If you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself,” he confirms. 

You can’t help but beam up at the tall frat boy, overjoyed at this turn of events. As cute as Johnny is though, part of you is excited to tell Ghostie about this when he inevitably calls you tonight. 

Your life is definitely a little crazy.

“So, how about you come in tomorrow at seven?” Johnny suggests. “The bar will be open past midnight, but I figure I can show you a few things before it gets busy around ten, and then I can let you go early.”

“I’ll be here at seven.”

“And when it comes to what you’re wearing, we’ll give you a Skeets t-shirt,” he pulls at the black fabric stretched tight across his broad chest. “Other than that, you can wear any color of jeans and some sneakers.”

“Perfect.”

“You’ll be paid for the training shift, I’ll tip you out in cash, and if it goes well, we’ll get your banking details at your next shift after that,” Johnny explains. “I’ve got your number here on your resume, so I’ll be in contact with you on Sunday, how’s that sound?”

“Sounds like a dream.” You literally can’t stop smiling.

“Tiny’s going to learn to mix,” Johnny says fondly, “Mark’s going to love this.”

You already feel close to Mark’s big, and the opportunity to work with him is a good one. Johnny is one of the more well-known nice guys at the frat. Sure, he’s got a little bit of a dangerous edge to him, just based on his massive stature alone, but he’s generally a big softy bear. 

“Thanks again for this, Johnny,” you beam. “I won’t let you down.”

Thursday pt 2

“Hyuck said our favorite Tiny sorority princess got herself a job today.” 

“Hello to you too, Ghostie.”

“I wanted to cut to the chase and congratulate you.”

“I wouldn’t have gotten the job without you,” you admit. “So… thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” your mystery man says, and you can hear that classic grin of his. “I’m sure you got it on your own merit.”

“Apparently no one’s ever brought a cover letter with their resume before.”

“They must have been impressed.” 

“Hired me on the spot.”

“That’s my girl.” 

Your insides flutter. You like the way it sounds when he calls you his girl. “How about your day, Ghostie? Stalk any new girls?”

He laughs. “Only one girl worth stalking, which, I don’t do, by the way.”

“Sure you don’t.”

“My day was long,” he says finally.

“Yeah, it’s nearly midnight, I was thinking about going to sleep but…”

“But you wanted me to call,” Ghostie finishes your sentence for you.

“When you say it like that it sounds kind of depressing.”

“It’s not depressing, Tiny, it’s cute.”

“Cute?” 

“I like that you’re getting used to me.”

“You know… if you decided not to show up to the Halloween party- if you never called again, I think… I’d wonder who you are the rest of my life.” It’s a moment of vulnerability, and your heart races in your chest while you wait for his response. 

“I wouldn’t do that to you, Tiny,” Ghostie promises. “I’ll find you on Saturday, and not in a stalker way.”

“What costume are you going to be wearing?” 

“If I tell you, you’ll just show up and scour the whole place looking for me.”

“You know me too well, don’t you, Ghostie?”

“What are you going to wear, pretty girl?”

You literally kick your feet at the term of endearment, body buzzing. It takes a moment to collect yourself. “Honestly? I’ve got a Ghost Face mask hanging around somewhere.”

“And here I was being told I’m the one who gets hard pretending to be Ghost Face.” 

“Well… even though I don’t know you, not really, I think I got that one pretty accurate, didn’t I?”

“Maybe a little.”

“I thought you said you were big,” you tease.

“Okay, maybe a lot.”

You bite at your lip. After the great day you’ve had, it’s difficult not to feel flirty. “Are you hard right now, big guy?”

He groans, and even under the voice modulator, something tells you the sounds he makes are sexy as fuck. You can feel your panties getting wet. It’s dirty, but in the best possible way.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you grin.

“You’re being bad, Tiny.”

“Says the guy who’s literally hard right now.”

The other end of the line is silent for a moment. “Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask me anything.”

“What if… when we meet, you’re not interested in me?”

Well, this has just taken a turn. How did you go from horny thoughts to insecurity? 

It’s a valid question though, one you should have asked yourself by now, but for some reason you haven’t. You think about it for a few seconds. 

“I feel like… I know it’s been less than a week of talking but, you’re not like any other guy I’ve ever met. And not just because you’re calling with a voice modulator.” You let out a laugh. “You ask how my day is, and you care to hear my answer. You even helped me get a job, which is crazy to think about. For some weird reason, I think when I meet you, the emotional connection is already kind of there, so no matter what you look like, you’ll be more attractive to me.”

“You really think so?” 

“I mean, NCT is known for having hot guys, so I’m not sure who you could be that would turn me off. There are only a few NCT guys I’d say a hard no to at the moment.”

“Yeah? Who?” 

“Well, Doyoung and I have never gotten along, but I know you’re not him because he doesn’t touch weed. I dated Jeno for about a week, and I know enough about him to know I don’t want to do anything with him ever again, and also, that you’re not Jeno because he’d never ask me how my day was going-”

“What an asshole.”

You laugh. “All things considered, Ghostie, I think you’ll do just fine.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“Is this why you’ve been doing the whole voice modulator thing? You’re worried I won’t be interested in you?”

“It’s one of the reasons,” Ghostie admits. “I also worried that if I did hit on you, you might think I was only trying to get you into my bed, which, yeah, it would be nice, but… as perfect as your body is, it’s not the most interesting thing about you.”

What a scrumptious take; A guy calling you up and using anonymity to prove to you that this connection isn’t only about sex. 

Your heart softens.

“Ghostie, you might be one of the sweetest guys I know,” you admit.

“More than your best friend Mark Lee?”

You laugh. “Maybe not, Mark would never do something like this. You’re a bit of a paradox that way, aren’t you?”

“If you say so, Tiny. As much as I’ve liked this talk, I think I should let you sleep. Halloween is two days away and I’m sure we’ve both got a lot to do before then.”

“What if I don’t want you to go just yet?”

“Then I’d remind you that patience is a virtue.”

“You’re such a tease.”

“Good thing we have an emotional connection so you’ll forgive me for it. Night, Tiny.”

“Night, Ghostie.” 

Friday 

Your first shift consists of shadowing Johnny. He’s a fabulous teacher. He’s calm, patient, and very encouraging. The first few hours are a breeze, but the bar gets increasingly packed as the night goes on.

It’s a little overwhelming, but Johnny helps keep you steady. He gives you the easy drink orders, things like beer and simple cocktails. While you’re filling a cup from the beer tap, he’s busy mixing five to ten different things into one glass for items on the Halloween special menu.

There’s something sexy about a diligent worker, and his beefy arms are all bulgy and hot in his tight Skeets shirt. You can tell that a lot of girls come up to the bar specifically to order from him. There are two other bartenders, but Johnny’s line is notably the longest.

You’ve had your own share of interested men pop over to say hi. There are very few frat boys here tonight, as there’s a party in full swing in the Greek village, so most of the guys coming up to grab a beer from you are people you don’t know.

Many of them are dressed up in costumes, and it’s interesting to try to guess some of the more obscure clothing choices.

Anytime you see a man in a ghost costume, your mind shifts to your mystery caller. You wonder if he’ll pop by tonight- but other than the men already working with you, no NCT boys walk through the front door. 

No Ghostie.

There’s not one second of reprieve, but staff need breaks, and finally, just before midnight, Johnny pulls you both for a breather. 

“Are you sure the others can keep up while we’re gone?” you ask, looking back at the swamped bartenders.

“They can manage,” he assures you, guiding you through the back staffroom to a door that leads to an alleyway behind the bar. “I know I’ve kept you on longer than I thought, but it’s just been so busy. How are you holding up?”

The cool night air is a drastic difference from the heat and humidity inside, and you take a deep breath, closing your eyes and enjoying it. “I’m doing alright,” you tell him. “You’re the one making the difficult drinks.”

“I’ve been mixing cocktails for years,” he brushes it off, reaching into his back pocket. 

“Well, it shows.” You watch to see him pull out a rolled joint, and next comes a lighter.

“Want some?” he asks, lifting the joint to slot between his perfect lips. 

“Are we allowed to smoke on the job?” 

“Hyuck was prescribed Vyvanse last year, so he’s practically on coke all shift,” Johnny grins, lighting the end of the joint and taking a puff. “Besides,” he lets out a deep breath of smoke, “in the service industry, sometimes you need a little buffer.”

Skeets really is a chill place if the hiring manager smokes weed on breaks with subordinates. 

“I didn’t realize you were a stoner,” you muse.

“Most of us frat boys are,” Johnny admits, pulling the joint from between his lips. It’s placed casually between two fingers, and his other hand ruffles through his pretty hair. “It’s a nice night.”

“It is,” you nod, looking up at the sky. Stars are twinkling in the dark

“I’m glad you joined the team, not sure we would have been doing so well without your extra set of hands.”

“I’m really grateful to have been given a trial shift,” you smile softly.

“Well, just so you know, it’s more than a trial shift. You’re hired.” He nudges your shoulder gently, and your grin only grows.

“Thank you.”

Johnny takes another drag from his joint. “Sure you don’t want a puff?”

“I really shouldn’t-”

“I’m going to let you go home pretty soon after this,” Johnny tells you. “So it won’t affect your performance that much.”

You wonder if this is a test, but… at the same time, you don’t think Johnny’s the type of guy to test you this way. 

You give in, accepting the joint and bringing it to your lips. It’s been a while since you smoked one of these, and your first tiny hit leaves you coughing, passing the joint back to Johnny while you try to catch your breath.

He grins while watching you, and you get the sneaking suspicion that Johnny thinks you’re cute. 

“Thank you,” you say, coughing again.

“You’ve got good manners, don’t ya, Tiny?”

You nod, wiping at the tears that have formed in your eyes from the smoke. 

“Who... who do you usually smoke with?” you ask.

“Why? You a cop?” Johnny jokes.

“No, it’s just uh… God, I could tell you the whole story but you wouldn’t even believe me if I did,” you find yourself laughing. “Just… I didn’t know you smoked, so, I’m wondering if maybe there are a few other guys in your circle who do too.”

Johnny looks you up and down. “Like I said earlier, Tiny, almost all us frat boys partake in mari-ju-ana.”

It’s clear he’s not going to give you any information that could help you figure out who your Ghostie is. You suppose you really will just have to be patient.

In less than twenty-four hours, you’ll be finding out who your mystery caller is, and the suspense is absolutely killing you.

Friday pt 2

It’s twelve thirty when you finally get home, and you’re very tired. But at the same time, you’re awake. You take your time getting ready for bed, ignoring the loud party sounds outside and around the frat village while you wait for a call from Ghostie.

As one am rolls around, you start to realize that maybe tonight you won’t get a call.

He is a frat boy, and this is Halloween weekend. 

You’re disappointed as you get into bed, frowning as you scroll on your phone, hoping that if you wait another five minutes, maybe he’ll catch you. 

Five minutes turn into ten, turn into fifteen, and you find your eyes beginning to shut.

You’re starting to understand how much you truly have come to depend on Ghostie as part of your nightly ritual. It hurts not to get a call from your favourite voice-modulated anonymous frat boy.

You try to self-soothe by assuring yourself you’ll meet him tomorrow, but it doesn’t really help. 

Tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable, you fall into a blissless sleep.

Saturday 

You’re groggy when you open your eyes, but you still go to check your phone. There’s a missed call notification from an unknown number at three am, and suddenly you’re wide awake, bolting up in bed.

“Hey, Tiny, it’s me.”

As if it could be anyone else.

“Sorry I didn’t get a chance to call you last night. I was pretty swamped with Halloween stuff. But if it makes you feel any better, you were definitely on my mind.”

Here you are kicking your feet again.

“Probably won’t get a chance to talk to you until the party, I really do hope you come… in uh… more ways than one.”

God, he makes you wet.

“I get it if you’re a little mad at me for not calling earlier, and I promise to make it up to you when I see you, if you’ll let me.”

He’s so oddly respectful.

“But I get it if you don’t want to do anything at the party. I’ve enjoyed talking with you this week, and if that’s all it’s going to be then I won’t hold it against you. Anyways, goodnight, see you soon.”

Saturday pt 2

You feel cute tonight. You’d taken your Ghost Face mask off almost as soon as entering the frat, but the little black dress you’re wearing is enough to capture a lot of attention. 

Every frat boy that comes up to you makes your heart race, but none of them reveal themselves as your Ghostie. 

You’re actually beginning to get a little frustrated, and after two hours of floating around hoping to find your mystery man, you head with Mark to his room for a break.

Mark’s roommate, Hyuck, is sitting on his bed, bong already out and resting on one thigh while scrolls through his phone. He looks up when you enter, smirking. “Finally, smoking buddies.”

“You texted me like two minutes ago to come up here,” Mark rolls his eyes. “Have some patience.”

“Not in my nature,” Hyuck insists, setting his phone down and reaching for his lighter. “First hit is mine.”

As if you expected anything less. 

You watch him inhale the thick cloud of smoke, holding it for a moment in his lungs before he lets out a deep exhale. “Fucking hell, he groans, that was a good hit.” 

Mark takes the bong and Hyuck falls flat against the bed, closing his eyes and smiling.

“So have you found your stalker yet, Tiny?” Hyuck asks.

Your gaze flashes to Mark. “You told him?”

“He was curious why I was asking for a stoner list,” Mark defends himself. 

“Whoever the dude is, he’s got balls,” Hyuck says wistfully. 

There’s a knock on the door, and Jaehyun pokes his head inside. “Heard we’re smoking?”

“Yeah, come in!” Hyuck waves his hand, still collapsed on his bed.

The door is pushed open wider, and you catch sight of Johnny standing behind Jaehyun. Your new hiring manager flashes you a wink as they enter, and the door is shut firmly behind them. Jaehyun goes to sit with Hyuck, but Johnny approaches you, taking the seat next to you on Mark’s bed. 

“How’s your night going?” Johnny asks.

“She’s waiting for her stalker to come kidnap her and fuck her brains out,” Hyuck says loudly.

“Your stalker?” Johnny laughs.

“Some guy has been calling her all week,” Mark tries to explain.

“It sounds worse than it is,” you insist, feeling the need to defend Ghostie. “He’s only a little perverted.” 

“And you’re into that sort of thing?” Jaehyun questions, cocking his head while Mark takes a puff from the bong and hands it over.

“Not usually,” you admit. “But… this guy is different.”

“You don’t even know what he looks like,” Mark groans, collapsing in his desk chair and running an anxious hand through his hair.

“That doesn’t matter,” you insist. 

“Fucking girls, dude,” Hyuck laughs, sitting up and watching Jaehyun smoke from the bong. “You know what we need?”

“More weed?” Mark suggests.

“Yes, but also, shots.” Hyuck’s eyes shift to Johnny. “Not the shit from downstairs. The good stuff.”

Johnny lets out a chuckle. “You want something from my secret stash?”

“The tequila you brought back from Mexico,” Hyuck nods.

Jaehyun lets out a puff of smoke, holding the bong out for Johnny, who shakes his head. 

“You’re not taking a hit?” Jaehyun asks, staring at Johnny in hazy shock.

“Not tonight,” Johnny responds. Then he turns to you. “If neither of us are taking a crack at the bong, how about you come help me grab the tequila?”

“Careful, John,” Hyuck teases, “She’s not interested in you, she only has eyes for this Ghostie dude.”

Mark shoves Hyuck’s knee and Johnny simply grins. “Come on Tiny, you don’t want to get secondhand high on a night like this.”

He’s right about that, and you stand with him, heading to the door. Johnny’s so tall and broad, and you try not to stare at his shoulders, but it’s extremely difficult not to appreciate his large form. 

“What’s your costume?” you ask. 

“Oh, this?” He pulls casually at his black tshirt. “I’m a serial killer, they look like everyone else.”

“Very original,” you laugh, falling into step with the tall fratboy as you make your way down the crowded hall. 

“My room is on the top floor,” he tells you, heading to the stairwell and holding the door open for you. “I like your dress, by the way.”

“Thanks, it goes with this.” You hold up the Ghost Face mask to show it to him, and his grin widens while you climb the stairs.

“You’re gonna have to let me try that on.”

“I’m uh… I’m actually saving it for Ghostie to try,” you admit, feeling a little silly with how loyal you’re being to your mystery caller.

“He’s a lucky guy,” Johnny muses.

“Here’s to hoping it goes well,” you sigh.

Johnny doesn’t respond to your comment, and as you reach the top floor he guides you three rooms down, using a key to unlock the door before he holds it open for you. “After you, Tiny.”

The space is the same size as Hyuck and Mark’s, but it only has one bed. “I didn’t realize they had single rooms here,” you say, looking around. 

“There’s only a few, and I’ve got seniority,” Johnny explains. He closes the door behind him, walking over to the large closet. 

You take in the decorations. It’s unmistakably a frat boy's room, but much cleaner than you’re used to. There’s a gaming station, and a mini fridge that you’d guess is full of beer. A clothing rack shows off some of Johnny’s more sophisticated tastes. 

You’re curious about what else he has in his stash, so you join him by the closet, peeking inside. “We’re looking for tequila right?”

God, he has a whole shelf full of expensive bottles of booze. 

“Uh huh,” Johnny nods. “Should be in the back here somewhere.”

“Isn’t this tequila?” you ask, pointing to a bottle he’s brushed past.

“Close,” Johnny flashes a grin at you before continuing to rummage, “but no cigar.” 

You freeze. 

It’s been nearly a week since your first interaction with Ghostie, but you remember that interesting turn of phrase like it was yesterday. 

But- it can’t be. 

Johnny can’t be your mystery caller-

Can he?

“Found it,” Johnny announces, pulling an immaculate bottle of tequila out. His gaze lands on you. “You alright, Tiny? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I mean… have I?” 

He cocks his head. “What do you mean?”

“You’re…” You swallow thickly. “Are you my Ghostie?”

Johnny meets your gaze with a steady look. “Does it upset you?”

It’s not a clear confirmation, but it’s a confirmation nonetheless. 

You stare at him in absolute shock for a moment. He looks insanely gorgeous tonight, all broad, with his pretty lips- without even knowing what you’re doing, you find yourself throwing your arms around him and burying your face against his chest.

Johnny freezes, obviously startled by the sudden contact, but then he’s wrapping you in a tight embrace. One of his hands finds the back of your head, and he cradles you close.

Neither of you say anything, you simply hold each other while you come to terms with everything. 

He’s so stupid for ever thinking you wouldn’t want him-

You do want him. You want him so bad-

Pulling away from his chest, you tilt your chip up, reaching for his face. You cup his cheek while you move on your tiptoes to press your lips against his.

He appears just as shocked at this movement as when you’d hugged him, but he eases into it all the same, kissing you back gently.

But you don’t want gentle, you want him.

You’re pent up from a week of teasing, and you shift in his embrace, wrapping both arms around the back of his neck while you glide your tongue against his lip. 

Johnny lets out a groan, his mouth opening for you while his hands slip down to tug your waist closer.

The kiss deepens and now it’s your turn to release a moan, pressing your tits closer to his chest. He feels like heaven against you, and his lips are absolutely magic. His tongue glides gently against your own. You can taste beer, but it’s not unpleasant, in fact, it turns you on even more.

You thread your fingers through his hair, dragging your nails against his scalp-

“Fuck,” Johnny mutters against your mouth.

Then he’s bending down, hands grabbing at your ass and prompting you to jump. You wrap your legs around his hips and he carries you effortlessly, closing the distance to his bed.

Instead of tossing you down, he sits on the mattress and suddenly your knees are digging into his charcoal duvet. You’re on top, fingers in his hair, your tongue licking at his lip, and you’ve never felt so powerful.

It gives you the confidence to wiggle your hips a little, and you’re pleased to find he’s already growing hard in his jeans. God, he feels big- and your pussy throbs at the idea of what you’re going to do to him tonight.

You’re in a dress, and your panty-clad core feels delightful against bulging denim. Johnny’s grabbing at your bare thigh, kneading your flesh, and it makes you moan desperately. Not only is he skilled with his tongue, but his hands seem to know what they’re doing too.

Suddenly he’s grabbing at your hair, tugging you so you arch your head back, giving him access to your throat. His mouth feels amazing as he begins to lick and suck on your neck, finding your sweet spot way too easily-

“Who-” You swallow thickly. “Who gave you my number?”

Johnny laughs against your skin, pulling away to look up at you with dark eyes. “Mark did.”

“Mark?!” You’re in absolute shock now. 

“Gave it to me during finals last year,” Johnny explains. “But… we both had busy summers and…” one of his hands sneaks down to guide your hips, helping you grind against him, “I guess I wasn’t sure how you felt about me.” 

“You’re crazy!” 

“Maybe a little,” he admits. “I’m also Mark’s big, and it’s not like you and I have ever been close.”

“But you’ve liked me for a while, haven’t you, Ghostie?” 

He groans at the nickname, looking up at you with eyes full of wonder. “Longer than you know.”

You wish you could say you’ve felt the same- but in all honesty, you have always seen him as Mark’s big. As an older fratboy dad type-

The way he’s acted with you this week has inklings of that protective daddy personality you know and enjoy, but… he’s not been particularly dad-like. He’s shown you a new side of himself, and you’re so fucking happy he did.

“You know, when Mark finds out you’re my stalker he’s going to flip.”

“I wasn’t stalking you,” Johnny insists, grinning up at you as he applies more pressure to your hips, making you grind against him harder. 

“God, you even hired me for a job-”

He laughs. “It wasn’t favoritism, you had a cover letter, the bar owner was even impressed.”

“You’re so bad- this whole time you’ve been mind fucking me. I would have never guessed my Ghostie worked at Skeets.”

“Well, I do have a minor in psychology,” he admits. “Figured the best place to hide is in plain sight.”

“You even smoked a joint in front of me and I never guessed-”

“Yeah, I was playing with fire with that one,” Johnny laughs. 

“It’s funny. I was so busy thinking about being loyal to Ghostie that I was trying not to check you out last night.” 

“And I’m so lucky to have you. You wouldn’t even let me put on your Ghost Face mask, so busy saving it for Ghostie.”

“Saving myself too,” you note, grinning down at him.

“Yeah?” 

“We’ve talked every night since Sunday- I haven’t cum in over a week.” 

“Fuck, Tiny,” Johnny groans. “I guess I better help you out then.”

“Really? How are you going to do that?”

“I’ll let you stay on top for a while, let you grind against me until you’re begging for me to tear your dress off.” He pulls at the strap on your shoulder. “Then, I’ll flip you over, get on my knees, and eat you out like the good girl you are, stretching you open with my fingers.”

“And then?”

“When you’re shaking and delirious from cumming, I’ll fuck you right. Bet you’ve never really been fucked right before.”

God, you definitely haven’t. At least- you know you’ve never been fucked the way Johnny is about to fuck you.

“What if I already want you to tear my dress off?” you ask, grinding down against his cock.

Johnny lets out a low groan, grinning at you. “Tiny, you’re nowhere near begging yet.”

“I’m not?” You lean forward, pressing a kiss to his throat before your teeth drag against his earlobe. “Please, Ghostie, I’m already so fucking wet, you wouldn’t believe it-”

He laughs, hand finding your hair again. He tugs you away from his neck, pressing his lips to your own and kissing you hard.

He takes your breath away. His tongue is perfect, licking and tasting- making you moan loudly while you work your hips, swiveling on his denim-covered cock.

“Fuck, Ghostie, you’re so fucking big-”

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” he promises, grabbing a fistful of your ass and squeezing so hard it almost hurts. But the pain is wonderful, and you cry out in ecstasy, working yourself harder against him.

If it wasn’t for his enticing cock, you think you could make out with him like this forever. 

You just want to be naked, so you grab at your dress, intent on lifting it off-

Johnny stops you. “I’ve told you patience is a virtue, haven’t I, Tiny?”

You groan in annoyance. “John, please-”

“Ghostie,” he corrects you.

You don’t even care- you simply grab his hand, guiding it between your legs. His fingertips brush over your soaked panties, and you gasp at the feeling of him, immediately grinding down, looking for relief.

“Fuck-” you moan, closing your eyes and throwing your head back.

He begins to circle your clit through your thong and you’re forced to grab at his shoulder to steady yourself, whimpering loudly. 

“Shit, Tiny, you’re so fucking pretty,” he whispers.

“I need you,” you gasp, feeling an orgasm already bubbling in the pit of your stomach. “Please, move my panties to the side-”

Johnny doesn’t question you this time. He pulls your thong away, easily burying two large fingers into your wet, needy core.

Now you’re really gasping. You lean forward, wrapping both arms around his strong shoulders and burying your face against his throat. “Oh my God, Ghostie- don’t stop-”

“You’re going to cum from this, aren’t you, pretty girl?”

You nod desperately, swiveling your hips so your clit can rub against the palm of his hand while his fingers work you open. 

“So good,” you whimper. “So fucking good-”

Johnny groans, curving his fingers and stroking your gspot.

You squeal in his lap, thigh muscles clenching while your pussy begins to throb around the foreign intrusions. You’re so close to the edge you can almost taste it.

“Want you to cum for me. Wanna hear your sounds while you drip down my hand.” 

Fuck, he’s way too sexy, voice all low and seductive. He’s breathing hard, and you can tell you’re turning him on just from riding his fingers-

“Come on, Tiny, who’s my good girl?”

“I am-” you gasp, digging your nails into his shoulders as your orgasm hits you straight on. 

You moan loudly, burying your face against Johnny’s neck. You’re panting against his skin, wiggling your hips while his fingers continue inside of you, driving you absolutely insane. Waves of pleasure are overtaking your form, and your mind is completely blank, overwhelmed by the feeling of ecstasy that Johnny provides for you.

“That’s it,” Johnny encourages you. “So fucking good for me.”

You’re shaking on his lap by the time your high is over, and you press wet kisses to his throat, earning groans from your Ghostie. 

You reach down for your dress, lifting it up and off your body. Johnny pulls back, watching you with dark eyes. He takes his fingers out of your wet pussy, bringing them to his lips to clean. But he’s not done there, as you toss the fabric to the floor, Johnny offers you his digits next. 

You lock eyes with him for a moment before leaning forward and accepting, taking his wet fingers into your mouth and helping suck them clean. You groa at the taste of yourself. Johnny watches the motion, his free hand finding your hip and forcing you to grind down against his cock. 

“You’re so hot, Tiny,” he says, removing his fingers from your lips.

“Wait till you see me naked,” you grin, reaching behind yourself to undo your bra. 

It falls away easily, and Johnny’s large hands cup your breasts almost immediately. His head dips, eyes taking in your newly exposed skin. “Fuck, how does a girl get this perfect?”

“How does a guy get a massive cock like yours?” you counter, rubbing yourself against the front of his jeans. 

“Touche,” he chuckles, leaning down to lick your nipple. 

You thread your fingers through his hair, guiding him to show more affection to your chest, which he’s more than happy to do. His large hand cups your right breast while he worships your other with his mouth, suckling on your nipple. His teeth drag gently against the sensitive bud and you moan loudly, rocking your hips all the while.

“As much as I’d love to keep sucking on your tits,” Johnny sighs, lips moving up your throat again, “I’d rather be between your legs.”

“Ghostie, do whatever you want to me,” you instruct, feeling delightfully submissive.

“You got it, Tiny.” 

In one easy motion, he flips you so your back is on the bed. Johnny pulls away from you, sinking to his knees at the edge of the mattress before grabbing you and tugging you closer. He tears his own shirt off, giving you a great view of muscles that make you even wetter. Then he grabs your panties, sliding them down your legs so you’re completely bare for him now.

Johnny doesn’t say anything, he simply licks his lips and dives into you. His tongue parts your folds, dipping inside to taste your walls while your legs shake around his head. “Fuck, Ghostie-”

You reach down to grab his hair, applying enough pressure to his head to let him know you’re enjoying what he’s doing… if he can’t already tell from your desperately needy moans. 

His lips move to suction on your clit and a squeal escapes you, your back arching slightly at the sensation. 

You’re sensitive from having cum already, sensitive from having not cum all week only to be getting this much attention now. But you’re also probably sensitive because this is Johnny, because there’s been a build-up that’s left you ready to pop, and he seems intent on making you pop multiple times for him.

“Oh my God,” you whimper, eyes closed, abdominal muscles tensing with effort as his skilled tongue works you up again. 

Johnny groans against your pussy and it’s one of the sexiest things that’s ever happened to you. Your grip on his hair tightens, your core throbbing with pleasure already.

When he adds two fingers into your dripping hole, you know you’re not going to last, but you don’t think he wants you to.

In fact, you’d bet that Johnny himself is just about ready to explode. You can’t believe he doesn’t have his cock out yet- can’t believe he’s so intent on making you cum twice before getting any satisfaction for himself.

“Fuck, Ghostie-” You want to tell him how close you are to cumming, but you can hardly get the words out between your moans. “I’m- holy shit-”

Johnny finger fucks you even harder, his mouth focusing on your clit, and you’re pretty sure he’s understood your garbled attempt to warn him, pretty sure he wants you to cum.

You allow yourself to find your release, your back arching again as you tug on Johnny’s hair, keeping his face between your legs. You grind down slightly, your body chasing your orgasm as it surges through you like fire in your veins.

Johnny lets out a low groan again, and your entire body twitches at the extra stimulation. You’re gasping now. Nothing has ever felt this good-

To his credit, Johnny tries to help you through your entire orgasm, but he pulls away before you’re truly finished. You can feel him panting against your pussy, and when you open your eyes to look down at him, you find Johnny staring at you with the horniest expression you’ve ever seen on a man.

“Ghostie-” you whimper, shifting against his duvet. 

“Condoms,” he says, pulling his fingers out of your core and standing up.

“I’m on birth control,” you tell him quickly, making him freeze. “And if we’re both clean-”

Johnny practically moans at the idea, looking down at your body. “Does my Tiny want to be filled up all nice and good?”

Now it’s your turn to groan, and you nod, licking your lips. You sit up next, feeling your skin heat at the words you want to say, “I also… I wanna suck you off first.”

Johnny approaches the bed again, towering over you. It’s hard to focus on his eyes when his abs and strong biceps and veiny forearms are drawing your attention, but when he cups your jaw it makes things easier. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

“You pretty much stalked me for a week,” you tease, grinning.

Your Ghostie lets out a laugh. He doesn’t bother to check you on the word ‘stalking’ this time, even though he’s always been adamant that’s not what he was up to. It’s nice to have this little win, and as a reward for him biting his tongue, you reach out to undo his belt.

As the buckle unclasps and you move to his zipper, there’s a loud banging on the door.

Johnny looks over his shoulder and you can hear Hyuck screaming “Tequila!” 

The frat boy in front of you lifts his finger to his lips, a shushing motion, and then he reaches into his back pocket for his phone. You bet he’s going to text Hyuck some lie about not being in the room, but you’re too horny to slow down.

You get his jeans undone and you bundle your hands up in all the fabric, roughly tugging them down.

Johnny lets out a groan when his large cock slaps up against his abdomen, and he moves his phone to the side to give himself a better view, holding it with one hand while raising a brow at you.

You’re on your knees at the foot of the bed now while Johnny stands there, and you steady yourself, grabbing the base of his cock. With one last wink at Ghostie, you lean forward, kitten licking his length from balls to tip.

The man above you quickly types in the text, then tosses his phone to the side, his large hand coming down to cup your cheek. You take this as a sign to accept him into your mouth, so you do exactly that.

He’s so large and thick- you haven’t sucked cock in a while, and you’ve never sucked a cock as big as his. You know you can take your time, Johnny’s always been patient with you. 

You start by paying attention to the head, swirling your tongue around him and getting used to his size. Your eyes close, mind focused completely on your task. You’re already drooling from this, and you can feel your saliva dripping down his shaft. You smooth your thumb along the new trail of spit, helping lube your hand so you can begin to pump his cock.

“Fuck,” Johnny groans, tightening his grip in your hair.

You try to sink your mouth further onto his cock, but it’s difficult. He’s just so huge-

Your pussy throbs knowing that soon, this monster dick is going to be inside of you-

Without any lube that you’ve seen so far, you want to make him as slicked up as possible, and it helps that you’re drooling from how sexy all of this is.

His cock hits the back of your throat and you gag slightly, powering through the uncomfortable feeling as you glide your tongue along his shaft. You’re not a quitter.

“Holy fuck, Tiny-” Johnny praises you. “You don’t have to try to take more than you can handle-”

But you want to. You want to pleasure him the way he’s pleasured you, and his words only prompt you to suck harder, earning more groans from the man above you.

“You’re so good at this,” he continues his words of encouragement, and they do help you take him deeper. His voice is smooth, sexy, and thankfully not modulated in any way. 

You’ve never realized how nice John’s voice really is. 

You apply more pressure with your hand, pumping him faster-

“Okay, okay-” Johnny tugs gently on your hair, prompting you to pull off of his cock and blink up at him in confusion. “I have to fuck you now. I’m done waiting.” 

You let out a tiny mewl, nodding. 

Johnny kicks off his jeans completely, pressing a knee onto the bed. He leans down to kiss you, and then he’s grabbing your body. In one easy motion, he tosses you a few feet up the mattress, so your head can land against the pillows.

God, he makes you feel truly Tiny- it’s one of the sexiest things ever.

He takes his place between your legs next, lips finding yours. One of his hands cups your cheek, and the kiss deepens, his tongue invading your mouth while your arms wrap around his strong shoulders.

You can feel his cock sliding between your pussy lips, and it’s almost embarrassing how wet you are, how much drool you’ve left on him. 

“Please-” you whimper. You can’t wait another moment either, you have to know what he feels like. You reach your hand between your bodies, grabbing his cock so you can line him up with you properly. “Ghostie, I can’t-”

He kisses you, cutting you off. Something tells you Johnny understands, and the moment you have him properly situated, he begins to push into you.

You gasp against his lips, letting go of his cock so you can grab his shoulders. He’d worked you open with his fingers two times over, but nothing compares to this. You can feel your walls stretching to accommodate his impressive girth, and it leaves you practically brain-dead.

“Let me know if it’s too much,” Johnny tells you, lips moving to your throat so he can suck on your sweet spot while he continues to burry into your hot, wet core.

You wrap your legs tightly around his hips, closing your eyes while the feeling of him overtakes you. You’ve never moaned like this before, never felt anything like Johnny-

He groans loudly against your skin, gently thrusting, coating his cock in your juices to make things easier-

The moment his hips hit flush to yours, his full cock buried inside of you, you both gasp. Johnny grabs at your hands, interlocking your fingers and pinning them to the pillows on either side of your head.

“Fuck, you’re so big, you’re so-” You can’t even think, especially not when he takes another test thrust.

His cock drags against your inner walls and you cry out, body tingling. 

“You take me so well, Tiny,” he praises you, mouth still hot on your throat. “The perfect fit.” 

You can’t speak, not now, but you can squeeze his hands and tilt your head to the side, kissing his cheek. Johnny takes the cue to bring his lips back to yours, and you’re immediately lost in yet another breathtaking makeout session.

He’s moving slow, fucking into you at a gentle pace, allowing your body to get used to his massive size. 

But you’re feeling particularly desperate, and greedy. “More.” 

“More?” He laughs. “You sure about that?”

You nod, eager to be decimated by him. “Please, ruin me-”

Johnny groans, letting go of one of your hands so he can press his palm flat to the bed, giving himself more leverage. He begins to fuck you faster, and each meeting of his cock to your core has you whimpering like a whore in heat.

“You make the cutest fucking sounds,” Johnny breathes.

Only he - with his cock making you feral - would call your noises of pleasure cute.

He’s so stupidly endearing.

“Fuck, Tiny, you’re dripping- making this too fucking easy for me.” 

It’s absolutely embarrassing how wet you are. He’s gliding into you with no issues now, and each movement is like heaven. The head of his cock hits a spot deep in your stomach- you can’t help but reach down, pressing your palm to your abdomen-

You can feel him rearranging your guts, and you both groan when you apply a bit of pressure.

“Deep, huh?” Johnny lets out a moaned chuckle. 

“So deep-” you agree, words slightly garbled. 

“I’ve just started with you and you can hardly speak,” Johnny muses. “Wonder what’s gonna happen when I make you cum again.”

You cry out desperately, removing your hand from your stomach so you can claw at his hair, bringing his lips back to your own.

You’re tired of thinking- all you want to do is experience this, experience him, at your fullest- and boy, are you fucking full.

Johnny lets go of your other hand, reaching for your thigh. He adjusts it higher on his hip and suddenly he’s driving into you even deeper.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head and you gasp loudly against his lips. Johnny traces his tongue along your teeth, and you can feel him smirking.

You love that he’s enjoying this- enjoying watching you come completely undone for him.

“You know,” he says, “if you keep squeezing me like that, I’m not going to last long.”

You don’t even care. You know this isn’t the only time you’ll be fucking this man- and after cumming twice already, your body is near its limit of pleasure, if that’s even possible. In fact, there’s something very sexy about making a man cum quicker than he’s used to, and your pussy clenches at the thought. 

“Fuck,” Johnny groans again. “Can I flip you over?”

At this point, you’ll agree to any request, and you nod quickly, biting at your lip.

With one last kiss, Johnny pulls away from you. His cock slips out of your core and you whine at  the loss, only for his two large hands to grab your waist and manually turn you onto your stomach. Then he adjusts your hips, pulling you up into doggy position.

“If you need to scream, use the pillows,” Johnny warns you, lining up with your pussy again.

The first thrust has you doing exactly that. You bury your face into the pillow, letting out a loud cry as his cock hits deeper than before. 

This position might just kill you, but you don’t care.

His hands feel so good- so large and warm and steady on your hips as he finds an even rougher pace.

You can hear your ass smacking loudly against his front with each thrust and it only adds to your arousal. 

Bunching your hands up in his duvet, you do your best not to be so loud that the whole frat will hear you. But it’s so difficult not to just melt under him- 

You can feel your eyes welling with pleasure-fueled tears, and it drives you crazy.

“Fuck, you like this position, don’t you, pretty girl?”

“Yes, Ghostie!” you gasp, nodding while his cock continues to make you feel like absolute heaven.

“You look fucking perfect like this,” he tells you. “Face down, ass up. Pretty soon you’ll be begging for me to fill you up even more.”

His words flip a switch inside of you. “God, yes, please-” you cry out. “I want it so bad-”

“Want what?”

“Want your cum,” you whimper. “Wanna be so full-”

Johnny groans, grabbing rough fistfuls of your ass while he fucks you even harder. 

“I need it, Ghostie, I need it-” You’re crying now, and Johnny notices.

He bends over your back, bracing an arm across your chest so he can lift you onto your knees. He cups your jaw, thumb stroking through a tear track. “Holy shit, Tiny,” he moans, mouth hot against your shoulder. 

“Please, Ghostie, please-” you whimper, lower lip trembling-

You’re so close-

Johnny lets go of your jaw, and his hand slips down your front. You jolt when his fingers make contact with your clit, wriggling in his grasp.

“I’m almost there, Tiny,” he admits. “Watching you cum will tip me over the edge- you’ll be good and cum for me, right?”

All you can do is nod. Words are gone. Your mind is blank except for the pleasure that’s coursing through you.

Your noises are getting pitchier, and Johnny works you all the way to your peak. You gasp loudly as you topple over the edge, core clamping down hard on his cock.

Your legs feel like jelly, and Johnny releases you, allowing you to fall to the bed while your orgasm ravages your form. You’re clawing at the sheets, burying your face in his bed to muffle your screams-

His hands are bruising on your hips, and you hear him let out a loud groan. You can feel him filling you up, his motions faltering ever so slightly. His breath is hot against your shoulders and it’s added stimulus that makes you twitch, so completely overwhelmed that it almost feels like you’re about to black out.

But you don’t want to miss a second of this. His groans of pleasure keep you in the moment even as your mind is in a sex daze. 

Johnny rides you through your high, thrusts slowing until he comes to a stop behind you. 

You’re both breathing heavily now, and Johnny stays still for a moment, enjoying the last of your orgasm aftershocks. Then he flattens his chest to your back, hand falling to the bed next to  your own. 

“Holy shit,” he breathes. 

You can’t help but let out a small laugh, and it makes Johnny groan as your core clenches again.

He kisses your shoulder, lips oddly tender in comparison to the way he just blew your back out. 

“Ghostie-” you whimper, wanting to collapse on his bed from exhaustion. 

“Stay still, I’ll get something to clean you up,” he assures you, pressing one last kiss to your skin before straightening from your back. 

You miss his warmth as soon as he’s gone, and you especially miss his cock when it slides out of you. 

You feel him get off the bed, and a moment later, something begins to drip down your inner thighs. He really filled you up, and it makes you twitch. You reach a hand between your legs, cupping your core and rolling onto your back on his bed, trying to breathe properly.

Johnny is back a second later, and you can feel his gaze on you.

“Spread these thighs for me, Tiny,” he says gently, touching your knee. 

You open your eyes, and then you open your legs. 

Johnny moves your hand out of the way, letting out a groan. “You have no idea how fucking hot this is-” he tells you, wiping your core clean of his cum. 

You still don’t have it within yourself to speak, you can only watch him toss the tissue in the garbage before you’re making grabby hands at him.

Johnny laughs. He sits on the bed next to you, leaning against the headboard before scooping you into his lap. He’s so fucking big, and he makes you feel safe cuddled in his arms, your cheek pressed to his chest.

His heart is still racing, and it makes you feel better to know you’re not the only one who’s so affected by this.

Johnny’s fingers begin to thread through your hair, and he simply holds you while you come out of subspace. 

The party is still in full swing outside, and it’s an interesting feeling to have such a private moment with Johnny in the middle of a frat on Halloween. 

“Do you think anyone heard us?” you ask finally.

Johnny laughs. “Don’t worry about it,” he says soothingly. 

You pull away from his chest, looking up at him. His hand moves to cup your face and you press your lips to his. It’s a much gentler kiss than he’d given you mid-fuck, and it eases your racing heart. 

“Ghostie?”

“Yeah, Tiny?” 

“I like you a lot.”

He lets out another chuckle. “I like you too.”

“We’ll do this again sometime, right?”

“Of course, Tiny.” His hand smooths up and down your back. “I’d also like to take you on dates, if you’ll let me.”

“I’d like that,” you nod, relaxing against his chest again. “And… and when you call me, no more voice modulator.”

“No?”

“I like your voice, your real voice.” God, you’re feeling so soft and mushy for him.

“I like your voice too.” For a second, it’s a sweet moment, and then Johnny continues, “Liked listening to your whimpers.”

He’s such a frat boy, but you kind of love him for it. “Did you like my tears too?”

“Only if they’re for a good reason,” Johnny says. “If anyone else ever makes you cry, I’ll have to fuck them up.”

“My protective Ghostie,” you grin, leaning up to kiss the underside of his jaw.

“As much as I’d love to stay cuddling you forever, I should probably bring the boys some tequila,” Johnny sighs.

“The boys,” you echo. “I feel like I’ve just fucked Mark and Hyuck’s dad.”

“Do you have a daddy kink, Tiny?”

“For you, I have any kink you want,” you laugh. 

“I like the sound of that.”

“Just… kiss me again?” you ask. “We can bring tequila after.”

“Are you sure you want to come with? You can stay here and I’ll come back-”

“We should…” you lick your lips, “we should be social.”

“I just fucked your brains out and you want to go be social?” Johnny grins. “Maybe I didn’t work you over well enough.”

“You worked me over perfect,” you laugh, grabbing at his jaw so you can press your lips to his.

Johnny melts into the kiss, and there’s something in it that feels like coming home. You’ve never felt this safe with a guy before, and it’s kind of starting to scare you.

If you were to stay here- you think you might even fall in love with Johnny… that is, if you haven’t already.

You pull away from your Ghostie, letting out a sigh. 

Getting out of his lap isn’t fun, and your legs are wobbly as you stand next to the bed, but Johnny’s hands go to your hips to steady you.

When he stands, he towers over you, and you’re overcome by your thirst for him all over again. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck, bringing him in for another kiss. 

It’s so easy to get lost in making out with Johnny, but you have to tear yourself away, nodding, “Tequila.”

“Tequila,” he echoes. “Can you stand by yourself?”

“I’m okay,” you assure him, but it still hurts when he lets you go. 

Johnny pulls on some sweatpants while you find your dress-

“You’re not putting that back on,” Johnny tells you, moving to his closet. “Let me give you some clothes.”

“Are you trying to announce to Mark and Hyuck that we’ve fucked?” you laugh, accepting the large t-shirt he throws your way.

“Trust me, Tiny, they’ll know.”

“Yeah? How’s that?”

“After this, I won’t be able to keep my hands to myself, and something tells me you won’t be able to either.” Johnny pulls on a hoodie, grabbing the tequila and turning to you. “I know you, remember?” 

You grin, pulling on the pair of black boxer shorts he’d also sent your way. “Maybe a little too well.” 

“Or not well enough,” Johnny suggests, approaching you again.

“You’re such a sweet talker.”

“Only for you,” he smirks, leaning down to kiss you again. “You look cute in my clothes.”

“Do I look like I just got fucked senseless?”

“Definitely.” 

“Mark’s going to hate you,” you laugh.

“He’ll get over it,” Johnny brushes it off, reaching for your hand. “Ready to go?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” 

“You can still stay here if you want.”

“No, let’s face this now.” You need to be firm, need to get out of this love den before you find yourself even more loved up.

The two of you head to his door and Johnny holds it open for you. 

In the time you’ve been fucking, it looks like a lot of people have dispersed from the party, so walking through the hallway isn’t exactly a walk of shame. However, when you get down the stairs to Mark’s floor, you realize you still have to pull up your big girl panties to face him.

“I’m going to run to the bathroom,” you tell Johnny, “I’ll meet you in Mark’s.”

“You don’t want me to come with you?”

“To the bathroom?” you laugh. “I think I’m good.”

With one last kiss, you make your way to the frat bathroom at the end of the hall. It’s important to go pee after sex, for UTI reasons, your sorority big sister has drilled that into you since first year. When you’re done, you head to the sink, daring a look at yourself in the dirty mirror.

You look fucked, but you also look happy. 

In fact, you can’t stop smiling. 

After washing your hands, you dab some water on your throat, hoping it will calm you down. Once you feel good and ready, you exit the bathroom.

Mark’s door is open when you get to his room, and you poke your head inside. 

Jaehyun and Hyuck are on one bed, Mark and Johnny on the other, and they’re all lifting shots to their mouths. As you step inside, Mark’s gaze shifts to you. He takes in your new outfit and his eyes widen, then he spits out his shot, coughing loudly. 

Johnny’s hand finds Mark’s back while he practically coughs up a lung, and then Mark is leaping to his feet. “What-” His eyes dart between you and Johnny, and you can see the realization there. 

“Jesus, Mark, learn how to handle a shot,” Hyuck scoffs.

Mark doesn’t even entertain Hyuck, he simply turns to his big, pointing an accusatory finger at Johnny’s chest. “You’re Ghostie!?”

Johnny stands up. “You’re the one who gave me her number last year.”

“I what?!” Mark’s eyes are practically bulging out of his head now.

Hyuck and Jaehyun exchange a look, and Hyuck reaches for the tequila to pour another shot.

“Mark, it could be worse-” you say, trying to de-escalate the situation while stepping further into the room.

“How could it be worse!?” Mark bellows. “My Big is a stalker!”

“He’s not a stalker,” you defend Johnny, coming to join your tall new lover, your hand reaching for his.

“You’re her new boss!” Mark insists.

“Hyuck fucked our last bar manager,” Johnny points out.

“Guilty,” Hyuck smirks over the rim of his new shot.

Mark’s still not having any of this situation. “This is fucked up.”

“Mark, I’ve told you a million times, it’s spooky season.” You can’t help but giggle. This has been such a turn of events, but you wouldn’t want it any other way.

“You better not hurt her,” Mark says next, trying to meet Johnny’s gaze even while substantially shorter. 

“I won’t,” Johnny promises. 

“This is just-” Mark shakes his head. “Fuck this, I need to sleep.”

“We can move the party to my room,” Jaehyun says, already grabbing the bottle of tequila while Hyuck reaches for his bong.

It’s clear Mark’s done talking, and he collapses onto his bed face first like a tantruming toddler. You’ll discuss this with him another day, but you know now is probably not the time to push him to accept that his Big has a whole different side to him that Mark’s never seen. 

As you leave the room with Hyuck, Johnny and Jaehyun, Hyuck elbows you in the side. “I always knew you’d end up with one of us.”

“Yeah?” you laugh, gaze shifting to Johnny and Jaehyun who walk a few feet ahead of you.

“Once an NCT girl, always an NCT girl,” Hyuck nods. “And between us…” he leans closer, “Johnny is a good one.”

Your Ghostie looks over his shoulder at you, and you meet his gaze with a smile. “He is,” you agree. “Hey, John?”

“Yes, Tiny?” He stops at the door to the stairwell, holding it open and allowing you to catch up.

“I changed my mind, I think I am done with the party tonight.”

“Yeah?” Johnny smirks. “Gonna come back to my room?”

“If you invite me.”

“Tiny, my room has an open-door policy for you now.”

“Is that so?” you wrap your arms around his neck, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips.

“Uh huh,” Johnny grins. “And free cuddles, anytime you want them.”

“I like the sound of that,” you confess. 

“Just get married already!” Hyuck shouts back at the two of you as he climbs the stairs with Jaehyun. 

You and Johnny can only laugh at Hyuck. Your willpower is completely gone, and you allow your Ghostie to take you back to his room. 

He cuddles you close as the party dies down outside, and you find yourself slipping into the best sleep of your life on Halloween night with your Ghostie by your side.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! Halloween is my favourite Holiday, and there's something about Johnny and horror genre that makes me go feral

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🔮 preview. There’s no way he should be this fucking sexy. You’re outside in the cold, parkas on, a Santa hat on his head, a joint between his lips,  both your jeans down to your knees, his hand over your mouth to stifle your moans, and he’s about to fuck you against a wall with his massive cock- you’ve decided that Johnny as a whole is simply illegal.

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, exhibitionism in an alley, weed use, slight temperature play, big dick Johnny, quickie, cum kink/filling panties with cum while at work, praise, dirty talk, size kink, hand over mouth silencing, choking, etc… I pet names: (hers) Tiny, pretty girl, good girl. (his) Ghostie.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.5k I teaser wc. 275

🌙 staring. Johnny x afab!reader

bonus

You’ve been dating Johnny for a month and a half and you still can’t get enough of him. Whenever you pop over to the frat, it’s not long before one of you is dragging the other to his room. There’s never been sexual chemistry like there is for you and your Ghostie.

You’d never thought your biggest hurdle in the workplace would be refraining from jumping your bar manager, but here you are, every shift, practically drooling over him. Each brush of his hands across your body as he moves behind you to grab something makes you want to tear his clothes off, and your patience is at an all-time low. 

With Christmas fast approaching, the bar scene has substantially dwindled, and it’s making you even more needy. When Skeets only has a handful of customers, you fill drink orders while thinking about sucking on Johnny’s cock. 

It doesn’t help that he’s started wearing a Santa hat- why does it make him even sexier?

As Johnny smiles and makes casual conversation with a pair of girls sitting at the bar, you do your best to calm yourself. At the end of the night, you’ll be the one in Johnny’s bed, you just have to get to closing.

You notice in the periphery of your vision that the girls are finishing up with their drinks. Johnny excuses himself to grab the card reader, and as he slips past your ass, you feel his hard cock in his jeans. It’s difficult to stifle a moan, and you do so by biting on your lip. 

He loves teasing you, especially while you’re at work, and it drives you absolutely mental.

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[angel-sweets666]

Bakugos first time getting head

AGED UP!! Katsuki bakugo x fem! Reader

warnings: smut,, jerking off, blowjob. Sort of a extension to hallway crush

AGED UP im talking like last year of UA 18 years old sort of aged up

A/N I realised people don’t really know me, so to make it easier my names angel and I go by she/her, I never really introduced myself, also this banner😍

sorry for disappearing I’m back now and I think the smut is kinda rushed sorry 😭😭😭

Katsuki never thought of loosing his virginity often, it never crossed his mind on a daily basis. He wasn’t like his idiot “friends” Denki, sero and kirishima who all had either lost their virginity or were planning on it, especially Denki when he would yap into katsukis ear about finding the perfect girl to plow into which often lead to bakugo getting up and leaving mid conversation.

but then there was you, you flicked a switch in his brain like no girl did before. Sure he had a huge crush on you like he’s never had a crush on a girl before, but he also had a lust for you. Katsuki would sit in class and stare at you from the corner of his eye while imagining bending you over his bed and stuffing you with his seed or thinking about dragging you to the bathrooms and fucking you in a stall ect, all thoughts lead to him asking aizawa to go to the bathroom because he’s got a massive boner he desperately wants to deal with.

And dealing with it would probably be the most pathetic (prettiest) thing ever. Katsuki would sit in the bathroom with his baggy pants and boxers pulled down and his hard sore cock up against the fabric of his shirt, poor boy would spit into his hand and stroke the length of it with a grumble and after a while he’d get desperate and just start fucking his fist, bucking his hips into his hand all while imagining it was you balls deep on his cock. You would be so pretty bouncing on his dick in the school toilets while he held your hips and buried his face in your tits with a grunt and if your lucky a whine.

but bakugo couldn’t just fuck you, not just randomly. You wouldn’t allow that, you have more pride than that.

So when you two started talking then started talking he was beyond happy, though he wouldn’t show it behind his usually stoic and aggressive personality.

One day you two were sitting together at the back of class, both of you bored out of your minds! Katsukis eyes wonder from the board to you.he admired how pretty you were from head to toe, his eyes lingered around your thighs… your soft pretty thighs… the blonde bit his lip before trying to distract himself.

not now not now not now.

The blonde looked back down at your thighs before looking up at your face, only to see you looking back at him “what are you looking at?” You giggled, teasing him a bit “hah? I can look at you if I wanna look at you” he grumbled and turned his attention back to the board “righttt…nice hard on by the way” you teased him again as you pulled at a lock of his ash blonde hair. Katsuki looked down to find himself beginning to get a boner “shit…” he whispered and raised his hand “oi can I go to the toilet?”

You watched katsuki get up and leave in a hurry, slamming the door shut behind him. You giggled with amusement, you’d never think you’d have that sort of reaction out of him, you two never did anything sexual as of right now, you didn’t think he had a interest in it. But from that moment you realised maybe he did and just didn’t wanna tell you. You gave it a couple minutes before raising your hand too

“Mr. Aizawa, can I go to the toilet? Lady problems,” you said with a grin, knowing full well he suspected what you were really up to. The exhausted man barely glanced up from his desk, his eyes half-lidded with fatigue. “I don’t care…” he muttered, waving you off dismissively.

You walked down the hallway, the silence broken only by the rhythmic clicking of your shoes against the polished floor. As you neared the boys' toilets, you paused and knocked lightly on the wall before calling out, “Katsuki? You in here?” . After a brief silence, you heard a response. “Y-yeah! I’m… ah- I’m okay. Piss off!” Katsuki shouted back, his voice strained, you could hear slight panting. “Am I interrupting something?” You cooed, trying to tease him “hmmph.., yes! Go away!” He again yelled out “oooookayyy…”

you stood by the door as if you knew what was gonna happen

“you still there?” He grumbled out to you “yep” you called back out “you were jerking off huh?” You giggled “shut the fuck up!” “It’s alright it’s normal!” he mumbled in response. After a while in silence you decided to tease him more “so did you cum?” “What the fuck?” You laughed in response, riskily walking into the boys bathroom. “Do you want some help..?” You asked him, the silence was loud.

and that’s how you found yourself on your knees infront of him in the stall while he pushed your head down on his dick “fuck.. that feels good…” he grumbled and pushed you felt the tip of his dick slide deeper down into your throat, you gagged a little due to his huge size. Bakugo felt a bit panicked as it was his first time even getting his first time getting head “shit too far? Am I hurting you?” He asked as he pulled your head off his cock with a loud pop “n-nope” you said as a bit of drool fell down your chin, a dopey grin on your face,

before you knew it katsuki was pushing your head down on his hard cock again “Mmmm.. good girl…” he pet your hair as he pulled at your hair to push you up and down on him. Just as kirishima said he should. The slow pleasure began to build up into frustration, bakugo held your head up as he began to fuck into your face

“A-ah fuck! Don’t get caught don’t get caught… mmmmph…. Such a good girl..”

all while you gagged as tears built up into your eyes, he was much bigger then you thought and you could barely breath with the cock in your mouth. katsuki pushed his whole shaft into your mouth and crossed the line, painting your throat white with his hot cum.

“fuuuuuuuuuuuuckkk”

you pulled his softened dick out your mouth with a pop, swallowing the semen left in your mouth. The blonde stared down at you with short breath, panting softly. “Thank you..I’ve never done that.. before..” “it’s alright baby.. first time for everything”

“shut up….”

HAS EVERYONE SEEN THE MHA ENDING? IM SO SAD. GIVE ME THE PEN IM RE WRITING THAT, I DONT WANT MHA TO END

[calypsocolada]

MISO SOUP AND SWEET POTATOES | g. tomioka

(click here for part two!)

synopsis: you're tasked with convinicing Giyu to join the Hashira Training author's note: hello. this was a days worth of writing. from 11 am to 3 am. i even wrote parts in my notepad at work. i really like how this turned out. i finished the hashira training arc last night and think that final episode might've been the best episode of anime i have actually ever seen. this is a whole ass story cw: slightly suggestive, major spoilers for rengoku and the hashira training arc, character death, gore, ANGST, fluff, happy ending, not proofread, fem reader, use of y/n a lil, lover!giyu, hardheaded!reader wc: 6.3k

click here for my masterlist

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“Would you mind talking to Giyu for me? So that Giyu, who tends to put himself into a negative frame of mind can start looking ahead again. Will you be persistent in your efforts to speak with him?” 

You stared at the letter. You reread it again and again and again. Your body still aches from the previous fight in the swordsmith village and you sort of hoped this was a hallucination. That you were still unconscious. But as your crow beside you squawked and you jumped you knew it was real. The paper crinkled beneath your hands. Kagaya’s handwriting is flawless and script. You followed the trail of his pen again. 

Would you mind speaking to Giyu for me?

You wondered if maybe this letter was accidentally sent to you. Even as your eyes wandered back up to the top of the paper that clearly said ‘Dear Y/n’. Even if it didn’t say your name there were no accidents with Kagaya. 

But… but there had to be. Out of everyone, all the Hashira that were certainly closer to Giyu. But you, the newest Hashira, had been chosen to speak with him? In what world did that make any sense? You barely knew the guy. Granted he had been the reason you joined the corp originally but he’d dodged your very presence the best he could ever since. 

Your village had been attacked about four years ago. Same old story for a lot of people victimized by demons. There was never a happy ending with those monsters involved. Always blood. Always loss. It was no different for you. Half of your family was slaughtered before you could even rouse yourself from sleep. But when you did all you saw was the inkblots of blood on your white walls, the color shining from being hit by the moonlight. You remembered sitting up and feeling numb as you heard someone screaming. The scream that never left you. Something you’d never be able to ingest for as long as you lived. 

When you got to your feet your mother had busted into your room. She looked pale, blood gushing from beneath her white nightgown. She scooped you up and kissed your head as she stuffed you into the closet. She shushed your cry’s and told you not to come out until the sun shone beneath the crack in the door. She gave you one last kiss. You didn’t know then it was the last. You reached for her but she pushed your hands back, silently shook her head then pressed the door closed. 

You’d always been a good kid. You stayed put exactly as you’d been told. Even as you heard more screams. Even as it went quiet. 

Only until that sun shone beneath your door did you move. You busted out of that closet. Your mother’s name is the first thing on your lips but she wasn’t the first person you saw. The scene in your house was horrific to say the least. The sights of the people you loved in multiple torn pieces is something that comes back to you in flashes when you fight demons. 

It spurs you on to do exactly what they did to your family back to them. To tear them to shreds. 

In the middle of it all was a boy. He was sitting so still that you didn’t even notice him amongst the slaughter. Your living room was still dark, dark enough that it kept this monster safe as it rose to its full height. No longer a boy but a creature from your deepest darkest nightmares. It had your family’s blood on its mouth as it smiled a wickedly devilish smile. 

“Hmm. Missed one.” It spoke in a gravelly tone as it swallowed whatever it was chewing on. You could guess what. You stepped back into your mother’s blood… or maybe your father’s? The blood, thick beneath your foot slid out from underneath you and you crashed into their bodies, something sharp sticking into your side as you gasped in sudden pain. Your mother’s hand still gripped a knife that had now lodged itself in your thigh. The demon only laughed. “Clumsy one aren’t you. Mother wasted her time hiding something so useless.” He growled, approaching with a predatory gleam in his dark eyes. 

When he pounced towards you something momentary took hold over you. You, a measly twelve years old, ripped that knife from your own leg and thrusted it into the demon's eye. The creature roared like nothing you’d heard before as it stumbled back away from you. You just blinked as you watched it, numbness contending with your fear. The creature yanked the knife out and tossed it angrily to the side. It growled, fuming as it charged back at you. You raised your hands to defend yourself, screwing your eyes shut. You heard the whoosh of something cutting through the air itself and when you opened your eyes the creature had halted its assault. It locked eyes with you moments before its head toppled right off its shoulder. You stared in abject horror as the creature's body started to burn a blood red color and you saw a figure behind it. You were as still as a statue as the figure behind  it took shape. 

The shape of a boy, he couldn’t have been much older than you. Eyes an indigo blue, dark and almost unfeeling as they met yours. You watched as he gave a quick swipe of his sword to rid it of the demons burning blood as he sheathed it back at his side. 

“Are you hurt?” He asked, his voice young like yours. You weren’t hurt. Somehow. And you couldn’t open your mouth to answer him, not with your body still on top of your parents. You just stared at him, even as your eyesight got cloudy and stinging tears slid down your cheeks. 

The boy walked towards you and remained still, unable to move as he bent down in front of you. He reached and clumsily brushed the tears from your face. It was as if he knew you wouldn’t part your lips to speak because wordlessly he, with immaculate ease, picked you up off the corpses and carried you out of the house. You moved for the first time in minutes as your head tilted to look back towards your family. 

“Eyes on me.” He said and sure enough your eyes snapped to him. To take in his face. Eyes endlessly dark blue as they stared forwards. He had to have been your age, maybe a year older. He had the shape of a young face, with full cheeks and raven black hair to the nape of his neck. You couldn’t look away, it had nothing to do with his looks but everything to do with his command. 

You were a good kid. When someone told you to do something you did it. Years later you would come to thank Giyu for that, for commanding you to look at him instead of glancing back at what remained of your family.

Everything after that was just sort of a blur. You stayed some place warm, a faint fire flickering and that boy with the sword stayed with you until some men in black uniforms found you. You remember not being able to walk, the shock and grief of the night not letting you. You’d held onto your saviors shirt, your fist balled. He let you, in fact he even came along with you and the men in black and when they asked you to let go you blinked at them. You hadn’t even noticed you were still holding on. You let go in an instant. Your hand is sore from how tightly you’d been clenching. The men in black’s hands were on your shoulders guiding you away and when you looked back your voice came to you. 

“What’s your name?” You asked, everything paused for you so you could hear his answer. 

“Giyu.” He answered. You put a name to his face. You parted your lips to thank him but nothing came out again. You couldn’t say thanks. Not when you were the only breathing because you cowardly hid in the closet. You felt you didn’t deserve to be thankful. You met his eyes again and something, somehow, told you he understood. He gave you the softest nod of his head and when he turned to leave you felt your heart drop. Like something had bonded you to this boy. But you turned and let yourself be whisked away. 

A year later you worked for the very same people as Giyu had. You were given a sword and trained thoroughly by a man with red and orange hair. You weren’t ever good with names but the fire in him fueled the fire in you. Which is why you eagerly learned that breathing style and trudged up that mountain to crush the selection test. 

A few years after that you ran into Giyu. You were sent on a mission to help the Water Hashira. You’d never met any other Hashira besides Rengoku so you were sort of apprehensive. You never liked meeting new people. All those years spent with Rengoku and his fiery personality you wished at least some of it had rubbed off on you but… you were still demure and quiet, quick to anger and prone to disappearing. You liked your alone time. You had all but begged Rengoku to let you go with him in his mission, apparently some demon had infested a train, that sounded far more exhilarating than helping some water Hashira you didn’t know. Rengoku did what he always did when you were disappointed. He gave you a sort of unwanted hug, though secretly you wanted and needed it, and ruffled your hair. 

“We’ll see each other in two weeks. Next mission is yours and mine.” He said and then he was gone and you were boarding a train going the opposite way. 

When you arrived, stepping off the train your eyes met the same indigo blue eyes from so many years ago. When you were both kids. Now both adults. You stopped where you stood, unable to walk any closer as everything fled back. Stuff you had managed to keep down deep for so many years. Memories you wanted to erase. All that time wasted and drudged back up in mere seconds. Giyu may have had those same eyes but he was grown now. His hair longer and tied back, his face had lost that boyish roundness. He looked tall and lean. Well at least taller than you. For a moment he looked just as surprised as you but he smoothed over that emotion into something practiced. 

“It’s you.” He said, his voice deep and soft. You swallowed, your hand resting on your sword. 

“You’re the water Hashira?” You asked and he nodded his head as the train behind you dinged and slowly pulled out of the stop, the wind brushing your hair over your shoulders. 

“You’re Rengoku’s tsuguko?” At that you nodded your head back at him. His eyes trailed to your sword, to your haori, and old one Rengoku had lent you. His eyes lingered on that fiery pattern.  

“I never learned your name.” He said and then his eyes flicked to yours. You swallowed dryly, you weren’t sure why he made you so nervous, why your heart was beating so fast. You wondered if he was a part of a life you wanted to die off. The scared girl in the closet was far from who you were now. Rengoku never got to meet that scared girl. No one had. Except Giyu. You told him your name and he repeated it, as if feeling how it felt on his own lips. Your heart skipped a traitorous beat at the way he spoke your name. It felt different coming from him. You grabbed ahold of yourself.

“Shall we?”

But your mission with Giyu was cut off with the sudden death of Rengoku. You and Giyu hadn’t made it back to the village before both of your crows had delivered the news. You still remembered everything about that moment. Giyu walking beside you, your haori catching a gust of wind, cold wind, as if winter was coming. You could replay your footsteps on the dirt road. The distant flapping of wings growing closer and closer and then stopping as they landed. Your initial glance over at the water Hashira before the delivering of the news. The ripple before the crack in your soul. Giyu had been present for the worst two days of your life. Something about losing someone again that felt like family irrevocably broke something in you all over again. This pain you felt before today you wondered for years if it would last. Rengoku had healed some of it. And begrudgingly and foolishly you let him in. But now you have your answer. This pain would last forever. You couldn’t even cry, you just stared blankly ahead, just as you had in your dark house wrecked with the stench of blood. 

You felt a hand on your shoulder, you didn’t want to look at him.

“Go, I’ll finish the mission.” He said, his voice different, there was a coldness before but now only warmth. You still didn’t look at him as you turned to leave.

“Be careful.” You choked out before taking off in a run back towards the train station. 

You’d seen Giyu a few times after that but only in passing, never long enough to start up a proper conversation though both of you hated talking. You never let anyone else in after that. You took up the position of Fire Hashira and the only thing fiery about you was your utter hatred for demons. The other Hashira were sort of weary of you and that kept them at a distance. You only talked when absolutely needed and was the first to leave after Hashira meetings. You liked that distance. You’d do anything to keep it. There was only so much heartbreak and loss you could take. You were at your limit. You didn’t have room for anyone in your scabbard dying heart. 

That’s why receiving that letter from Kagaya had caught you so off guard. He of all people knew who you were and still he asked you for a favor. Probably a dying wish. He had shown you kindness and since it was the only thing he’d ever asked you for, reluctantly, you found yourself at the front of Giyu’s home. It was cold out as your knuckles rapped against the wooden door. You waited, stepped back and looked off to the side, expecting to see Kagaya’s crow lingering around somewhere to report back to him. A minute had passed as you gave one more series of knocks. Nothing. Maybe he wasn’t home. You sighed and turned to leave just as the wooden door clicked and was pulled open. When you turned back those striking blue eyes met yours. There was skepticism on his face as you swallowed. That feeling that met you every time you saw Giyu never seemed to fade. That persistent speeding of your heart. That faltering of words. All highly inconvenient.

“Y/n?” Giyu spoke first, pulling the door open just a tad more. He was in casual clothing, he looked as though he may have just woken up.

“Giyu. I never knew you lived in this part of town.” You lied. You knew. 

“It’s quiet.”

“I can see.” The lack of noise was slightly unsettling, only the rustling of leaves in the wind could be heard. You swallowed. “May I come in?” Your voice was slightly strained and didn’t at all sound like you wanted to do that but to your detriment Giyu moved to the side. Giyu’s home was a reflection of himself. It was clean, almost sterile, with dark walnut furnishings and dark curtains. He really must’ve been sleeping because he reaches over and flicks on a few lanterns, casting an orange glow to his living room. 

“I wasn’t expecting company,” He says over his shoulder and you almost agree.

“Unwanted?” You ask and when he shakes his head ‘no’ you relax sort of. 

“I’ll make us some food. Did you travel long?” He asks as he leads you towards the kitchen. You take a seat at the kitchen island and watch him get to work. 

“Yeah. Long train ride.” You answer as Giyu nods his head. You know he’s probably dying to know why you’re here but you're sure if you told him things would turn sour. You watched Giyu gather ingredients and supplies, he was very orderly about things, kept things nice and clean as he prepared dinner for you both. You had a lot of experience cooking growing up with Rengoku, that man could eat and eat. Just at the thought you felt a pang and forced your face not to show it.

“Do you need help?” 

“That’s alright, you rest.” Giyu intones, setting a cup in front of you as he fills it with hot black tea. You thank him, wrapping your hands around the warm mug. You stare down into the tea for a moment and realize you had no idea how to go about this little favor Kagaya had asked of you. You barely spoke with anyone, you were well out of practice. How genuine would this ask even be coming from you? 

“How’re you?” You asked, not letting yourself be embarrassed by your lack of social skills. Giyu flicks on the stove.

“Do you really want to know?” He asked over his shoulder and stupidly, because he wasn’t even looking at you, you nodded your head before clearing your throat and speaking.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.” You hoped that didn’t come out as sharp as it sounded.

“I’m… well. Thank you for asking.” Giyu answered, his monotone answer at war with the words he spoke. He sounded anything but well. You remembered the last Hashira meeting. You remembered Giyu’s back turned as he said, “I’m not like the rest of you.” Unlike Sanemi you didn’t feel angry at that. In fact you knew how that felt. To feel unwelcomed and wanting it to stay that way. 

“If you’re well then I’m well.” You said and when Giyu turned, his eyes meeting yours, you felt a flash of how you saw him that first time. You blinked it away as he turned back.

“I didn’t think… you of all the Hashira’s would be the first to visit.” Giyu said, turning back to the stove. You stared at the back of his head. 

“Me neither.” You said with a soft sigh. “But here I am.”

“Here you are.” He says, his voice soft again. It did funny things to you. Funny things that only he could elicit. It was frustrating.

“Giyu…” You trailed off, unsure how to broach the subject. “Did something happen? To make you not want to help out with the Hashira training?” Giyu was quiet for a long moment. You watched him stir some stuff into the pan and for a moment you thought he hadn’t heard you. 

“Can we not… talk about that?” He asks almost kindly. But that’s all you needed to talk about. If you didn’t stay on topic you’d be doing Kagaya a disservice, though could you count that as a hardy first try?

“Of course.” You answered, fiddling with your hands. You’d left your sword back at the inn you were staying at and wished you’d had it just so you could fiddle with something else. “Though, I apologize but, I almost wish I could sit it out too.”

“Why’s that?”

“Training a bunch of snot nosed kids sounds like hell to me.” You spoke truthfully and watched Giyu;s shoulders rise and fall quickly, almost like he was maybe laughing, but he still wasn't facing you so you wouldn’t know.

“Not a fan?”

“I had my fill with the three from the swordsmith village.” Tanjiro, his little demon sister, Nezuko and Sanemi’s little brother Genya. All a handful. But very capable in a fight. 

“How’re your wounds? I… never got to ask.” Giyu says as he reaches for some seasoning, finally turning to the side to face you.

“Scarring up.” You said and Giyu nodded his head, his eyes drifting to the scar on your cheek.

“Two upper ranks. If anyone could handle them I knew it’d be you.” He says with a sort of gleam in his eye. 

“Can’t take the credit. That red head kid killed one of ‘em while MItsuri and I held off its body. Muichiro took one by himself.” You recounted, the fight honestly felt like it would never end.

“You and Kanroji worked together?”

“Surprising, right?”

“Not at all.” Giyu answers. “You two are very alike.”

“In what way?” You almost laughed at that statement. 

“Strong, fierce, never quit.”

“I think we all have that in common.” You say and Giyu gets this look in his eyes as he turns back away. You feel as though you lost some ground. You chew the inside of your lip. Clearly Giyu doesn’t feel as though he had that in common with you. Something ignited in you. A need to say something on your mind. “Giyu… I-- I never thanked you.”

“Thanked me?”

“I’ve… wrestled with it for a long time. How to… go about it. Kyojuro used to tell me to practice with all the people we met. To thank them for stupid things, like holding the door open or bringing me food. Just so the words didn’t feel so foreign. But I never really felt thankful for you saving me. I lived because my whole family died. Because I hid.” You take in a shaky breath. You’d never talked about this stuff out loud, not even with Rengoku. You felt embarrassed suddenly, shaking your head, you forced out a choked laugh. “Nevermind. I don’t know what I’m saying.” You felt his eyes on you but you forced yourself to keep looking down at your warm tea. As long as you stayed like this maybe he’d move the conversation along to something else. You cursed yourself for ruining the mood, if there even was one to begin with.

“You don’t have to stop. I… I would like to know more about you. I… always have.” Your eyes shot to his like a gun hitting its mark. Those dark eyes, you could swim in them. Get lost in them. Those eyes… could make you feel something. That made you shoot to your feet, your tea spilling over. Giyu didn’t startle, he just turned to grab a rag but when he turned back you were halfway to the front door. He dropped the towel on the table. “W-wait, Y/N,” He called to you but when he rounded into the living room the front door slammed closed. 

You fumbled outside, steps clumsy as you started to run and run. You didn’t want to think about it. You had to get away, as far as those legs of yours could take you. You could run to the next town over, retrieve your sword in the morning and never speak to the water hashira again. Never again. Favor be damned. What you felt was dangerous. That kind of thing left you the hollow husk you were today. You preferred this safe loneliness. You couldn’t ever be hurt again. You stopped for a moment, the cold air tough to run in as you huffed and puffed out condensation clouds.

“You’re fast.” You hadn’t even heard his approach. You didn’t turn, just swallowed.

“I- realized I have something to do in the morning. Can’t stay out late.”

“Come back, Y/n. Please.” His voice was doing that soft thing you body liked so much. You clenched your jaw, if you could stab your heart you would.

“Can’t.”

“Why? And… tell me the truth.” You heard him walk a bit closer. Please, you thought, just go back home.

“Maybe you’re right. What you said at the last meeting, that you’re not like us other Hashira. Maybe I just realized it.” You wanted to hurt him, it was a common defense you used quite often. 

“And?”

“And I’m wasting my time speaking with someone who’d rather sit on the sidelines.” You spat over your shoulder. That’ll do it, you thought, that’ll get him to leave. It was quiet, heartbreakingly quiet and you were too much of a coward to see the hurt you caused so you started to walk away towards your inn.

“I… don’t care if you hate me.” You stopped walking instantly and turned, Giyu looked stricken, as if you slapped him. You regretted turning around. “You can hate me all you want. Yell at me, hit me, whatever you want to do. But I need you to know… you might regret me saving you but I have never regretted saving you…”

“Giyu,”

“Please… let me.” He straightened slightly. “I… am amazed by you.” His words hit you like the sharpest sting. Like a knife in the gut that slowly twists. “You’re incredible, nothing ever could rival you. You… lost so many yet you fight with purpose. I could never be like you.” You tense your jaw, eyes sharp. 

“That’s where you’re wrong.” You take a step towards him. “I am hateful. I don’t have a purpose to fight anymore I just do it because it needs to be done. You don’t know me at all.”

“Maybe I don’t. But… I want to.”

“Why?”

“I’m not succinct.” Giyu sighs, as if tired. “I just do.” Want to know you. You stared at him and that traitorous heart of yours, that naive heart did another flip. You shook your head. 

“You don’t. No one does.”

“Rengoku did.” Your eyes lit like fire, some heat filling your soul. You wanted to yell at him for saying his name. For bringing him into this. But you’d done it first. 

“He’s dead. They all are. My whole family. I don’t want to know you. I don’t want you to know me. I want you to go back home and let me be.” 

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Maybe for the same reason your eyes find mine every time we're in the same room.” Giyu took a step closer, you watched him move as though he was going to strike you down. LIke he was going for a killing blow.

“I… I don’t do that.” The lie was so obvious to your ears it almost made you cringe outwardly. 

“I’m not trying to embarrass you because… I look for you in every room. I… I lied to you the second time we saw each other so many years ago I… I knew you were Rengoku’s tsuguko because he’d written to me. He… sensed something and told me he was sending you to me for that mission. I was so… so damn nervous to see you again after so many years. So curious about how you were faring and I couldn’t even get more than fifteen words out. And when Rengoku passed I would write Kagaya, ask him how you were because I was too much of a coward to ask you myself.” That’s why Kagaya wrote to you. Your heart still beat, skipped a beat then beat again. Everything was falling into place. Why Rengoku had sent you away when you had always gone on his missions with him. The scheming man was playing matchmaker. And even Kagaya was playing the same damn game. 

“Don’t say anything else, Giyu. Please.”

“I won’t speak the rest of the night if you come back. You can even leave at first light. Just please… let me feed you and give you a place to sleep.”

“My inn isn’t too far.”

“Please.” The emotion in his voice was staggering. It was a plea. It had sounded like something he needed even more than breathing. You stared at him. If you went with him now that would be the very first crack in your walls. You never gave an inch away since Rengoku died and if you started now everything would crumble.

“No. I’m going back to my inn.”

“I’ll join the hashira training.” He said and your lips parted in silent surprise. “That’s why you came tonight wasn’t it? You’d never do it alone so Kagaya must’ve written to you? Am I right?” Your face must’ve given away the answer because Giyu continued and you realized right here and now this is the most you two have ever talked. An hour together had more dialogue than almost eight years. And this was why you kept your distance all these years. Because if anyone knew you it was Giyu, he’d seen you at your lowest yet here he was… begging you to stay for just a few hours. “Come back and I’ll join. You can consider your favor a success.”

“Why would you do that?”

“I’d do it for you.”

“Be serious.” You growled and Giyu took another step forward. You hadn’t noticed him getting so close but suddenly he was close enough to touch. You stepped back. 

“Come back. Please.”

“You’re annoyingly persistent.”

“I just want you safe. That’s all.”

“You already saved me once. That’s enough.” You condemned with a shake of your head. Giyu looked doubtful for a moment, unsure of how to convince you to come back. But if you made good on Kaguya's favor this could be the end of it. “I’ll come back.” His eyes shot up to yours. “But I’m gone first light.” He nodded his head at that. 

Giyu finished up dinner as you set the table. It was quiet between you two after everything. Giyu had all but confessed the real depth of his feelings but you had an idea and it wasn’t something you’d let yourself dwell on. That idea was something close to hope. Something close to the degree of happiness. That’s not something you wanted. Not something you’d let yourself have. If there was one thing you were truly good at, it was self destruction. 

You took your seat as Giyu placed down the food. Miso soup with sweet potatoes. You stared at it, stricken. Rengoku’s favorite meal. 

“Y/n? Are you alright?” 

“Seriously? That was at least your sixth bowl.” You huffed as Rengoku smirked as he pulled the bowl to his lips, slurping down the rest of its contents. He placed it down and reached for the ladle again. You watched him in amused surprise as he dulled out a seventh bowl. “You’re overgorging yourself.”

“It’s too good. Who taught you to cook, kid?” 

“You did.” You sighed with an eyeroll as Rengoku laughed heartily.

“Ah! That’s right I did.”

You blinked a few times and suddenly your face felt wet. You pressed a hand to your cheek. You hadn’t cried since losing your parents. You thought you were incapable, that you had exhausted your tear ducts at night. You hadn’t cried when you lost Rengoku and you always felt inhuman because of it. You looked across the table and met Giyu’s wide eyed stare, he looked startled at your tears.

“What’s wrong?” He asked and you couldn’t stop the tears now. They fell so fluidly, so overwhelmingly. You tried to apologize but your words just came out in stuttered croaks in your throat. Giyu stood so fast he knocked his chair over as he crossed to the other side of the table. He dropped to his knees beside you and pulled you to him. Rengoku hugged you a lot. You’d say it was unwanted but it was something you needed. Giyu’s arms around you felt different. He hugged you close to his chest, his hand tangled in your hair as you fell prey to your emotions. But startlingly so… it felt nice. Bottling things up for so long had very nearly ended you and you might’ve been able to really shut off your humanity if it hadn't been for that damned letter. If it hadn't been for Rengoku’s unending kindness. If it hadn't been for Giyu’s persistence. You could’ve nearly ended up as black hearted as the demon that flipped your life upside down. That was the most startling revelation of them all.

Giyu hugged you tight as you fell to pieces. He didn’t let go, never even loosened his arms a little bit around you. He just held you and let you cry and cry. It should’ve been embarrassing but as he pulled your hair back out of your face and wiped your wet cheeks there wasn’t an ounce of that annoying sympathy in his eyes. Just utter understanding. And this was the most inopportune time, seeing as your eyes were probably bloodshot, nose probably running like crazy, but without thinking you sucked in a ragged breath and then pressed your mouth to his.

Giyu made a sound low in his throat, you felt his arms around you tighten, drawing you in, deepening the kiss. This wasn’t something you knew of. Your parent’s pecked each other’s lips and cheeks but this… no this was something for behind closed doors. For just you two. That fire that pooled in your stomach upon seeing Giyu had heightened at least tenfold when he pulled you into his lap. Your bodies pressed against one anothers, no room, not even a milimeter’s length of space. He kissed you softly, but you kissed him back hard. That chasm of loneliness in you had reached its peak and you wanted it gone. He gently ran his hand through your hair and you balled your fist in his shirt. He gently lowered you back and kissed you against the hardwood flooring of his kitchen. 

You shoved your chair away from you both and hooked your legs around his hips. He made another sound and you found that you liked it so you tightened your hold and slid your hand in his hair. That awarded you another sound, like a whimper. When he pulled back for air you yanked him by the hair back to your lips. Fuck air. You didn’t need that. You’d rather breathe him in. He whimpered again, his hips mindlessly moving, sending a wave of heat through you and this time it was your turn to groan. He hooked an arm around your back and with strength and swiftness, he hoisted you up off the floor without even breaking the kiss. You gasped in surprise and he walked you through the hallway. Kissing you against the wall and the door and the dresser before he finally made it to his bed. 

You two fell into the softness of his covers, his body trapping you beneath him. He trailed his lips away from yours and whimpered at the loss of contact. But he kissed both your cheeks, your forehead, the tip of your nose and to your jaw. He paid extra attention to your neck before kissing your collar bones. He kissed his way back down your body. Kissing your scars that had once been an eyesore to you. Ever so gently tracing some absentmindedly with his other hand. Whatever growing between you two was something to be earned. Sure you loved Giyu but you needed more time with him. You spent eight years barely speaking. You could tell Giyu felt that too because when his lips met yours again and pulled back you both blinked tiredly at one another. 

Astonishingly you watched the softest of smiles spread across Giyu’s face. You wanted to catalog this moment forever. To remember it till the day you died. Giyu pressed one last kiss to your forehead and then dropped beside you on the bed. He pulled you to him, your back pressed to his front. Your legs tangled as his hand reached across you and intertwined with yours. You blushed but settled against him. The dregs of sleep calling for you. You two didn’t need to speak another word.  

You watched the first light roll in through Giyu’s curtains. It shone like blades across his room. Giyu softly snored beside you, arms still around your body. You’d never kissed a single soul before but you knew what a kiss meant. You knew whenever your dad kissed your mom or the other way around that it was an unspoken way to say I love you. But it was a different kind of love your parents shared. You loved your family. You loved Rengoku. 

But you loved Giyu. 

You loved him as you clamped your fist in his shirt the night he saved you. You loved him when you stepped off that train. You loved him at every hashira meeting and every stolen glance. You loved him as you read Kagaya’s letter and loved him when he opened the door. As he chased you down in the street and begged you to come back to his home. So many problems never go away, some pain felt as though it would last forever and you never thought you could break through. You never thought you could just grow around it, because nothing was more persistent than a plant in the presence of the sun. You never told Rengoku you loved him, never told him how much he meant to you and that his kindness never fell to deaf ears. You had spent eight years loving Giyu and not letting yourself know it.

And all it took was some miso soup and sweet potatoes.

[atlabeth]

plastic hearts

pt 2

pairing: spencer reid x fem!gideon reader

summary: spencer gets a front row seat to some gideon family matters.

a/n: full 100% credit to @hotchfiles for her gideon!reader idea and thank you sm for allowing me to take a stab at her w spence, i love messy women and this was actually so fun for me lmao. i owe you everything for getting me out of this mini writing slump!! this just reinforces the fact that arguments are my fav thing to write bc this came out of nowhere lmao

wc: 1.1k

warning(s): very messy family relationship lol gideon and reader argue the whole time. reader's got daddy issues and a one-sided grudge against spence. drama and tension and not a good time for anyone but me

“Gideon, I was looking over the most recent case file and I—” 

Spencer is just barely able to avoid stumbling over both his words and himself only after he’s walked halfway into Gideon’s office. He’s nowhere to be found, only a pretty girl around his age sitting in the chair across from his desk with taut lips and a frown that you turn on him. 

“You’re not Gideon,” Spencer says dumbly. 

“Very astute,” you say. “They clearly hire the best here.” 

“W— who are you, exactly?” he asks. “And why are you in Gideon’s office? And where is he?” 

“That’s a lot of questions.” You tilt your head to the side. “Not surprised he hasn’t talked about me.” 

And once again, Spencer finds himself just staring at you. He’s pouring over every interaction he’s had with Jason Gideon since he started working here, every knickknack and tchotchke he’s ever seen on his desk, any pictures he might’ve seen from glimpses at his wallet. 

“You’re Reid, right?” Your eyes narrow in, and despite being around you for no more than a minute, he already feels like he’s doing something wrong. “He talks about you a lot. Probably more than me.” 

“Spencer Reid,” he says. “Uh— Doctor Spencer Reid, actually, but—” Spencer blinks and shakes his head, because why are you the one leading the conversation here? “Who are you, exactly? Because Gideon doesn’t really like visitors and he never really has them anyway and I really have to talk to him about something, so if you could just tell me where he is that would be great.” 

“I don’t know, but I’m surprised you don’t. He seems to like you a lot more than he likes me.” You huff a laugh. “I’m supposed to be here. He probably just forgot about it.”

Spencer opens his mouth to ask you again to just please say your name because the last thing he needs on his hands right now is a security hazard with him as the first line of defense, but he’s saved by the bell, because Gideon walks in right at that moment. 

He stops in his tracks as soon as he crosses the threshold, the pile of files and folders in his hands losing his interest—Spencer doesn’t even think he sees him, the way his eyes immediately lock in on you. He says your name, and Spencer doesn’t have to be a profiler to pick up on the annoyance. He swears he gets a hint of guilt, too. 

“I didn’t know you were coming to the office today,” he says. 

“Figures,” you remark. “We only made plans a week in advance and I only emailed you three times and called you today to make sure. How could you possibly remember?”  

“I never got a call.” 

“You never picked up.” 

“I was busy,” he says. “This job—” 

“I know,” you intone dryly. “It’s always the job.” 

“Gideon, I have a question.”

Spencer knows it’s not the best time, but the tension has shot up and the temperature has shot down, and he would really like to get out of here as soon as possible. Gideon frowns as he looks at him, and if Spencer didn’t know who he was working with he would have thought he was noticing him for the first time. 

“How rude of me.” Gideon walks over to his desk, and his voice is oddly restrained as he gestures at you. “Reid, meet my daughter.” 

He doesn’t even get the chance to say that wasn’t his question, because his eyes nearly burst out of his head as Gideon says your name and, more importantly, your title. 

“Your— your daughter?” 

“There it is,” you say wryly. ��It’s heartwarming to know how much you talk about me, Dad.” 

“We don’t need to do this right now,” Gideon says as he sets his files down. He looks more tired than usual. 

“No, I think we do.” You lean forward, resting your elbows on your legs. “Because you finally agreed to fit me into your schedule for once, and instead, I meet boy wonder before I meet you.” 

“You don’t need to bring Reid into this,” he says. 

“I think I do,” you repeat. “Because I know about him and his three PhDs and how he’s the youngest agent here, and he doesn’t even know my name.” You look at Reid, a falsely disarming smile spreading across your lips. “You didn’t know my name, did you? I mean, based on that reaction, I don’t think you knew he had a daughter.” 

Spencer’s mouth opens and nothing comes out. He looks at Gideon for help, and he lets out a deep sigh as he says your name.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “Can we reschedule?” 

“No,” you say. “I have a job of my own too, y’know. This was the only spot I could carve out to come see you—I’m blocked in for the next month.” 

“We just got a case,” he says. “We have to brief everyone and be out within the hour.”

“Of course,” you say bombastically. “You always have a goddamn case, Dad.” 

“I have no control over it,” Gideon says, his voice pained. “You know that.” 

“Maybe not over the case, but you have some pull here,” you say. “And you’re in full control when you decide not to pick up the phone.” 

“I didn’t ignore you,” he says, but you’re already shaking your head. 

“That’s not good enough.” You pick your purse up from the ground and sling it over your shoulder, and your glare shifts to Spencer. “Maybe I should get a job here. Maybe you’d give me the same attention you give to him.” 

Spencer blinks. He doesn’t know if he’s ever been more uncomfortable in this office, which is saying something with their field of work. 

“I— I’m sorry,” he stammers, because what else is he supposed to say?

You huff a mirthless laugh and shake your head. “At least one person is,” you mutter. 

You walk out without another word, and Spencer sees Gideon’s jaw clench for just a second. 

He calls out your name, mostly in annoyance with a hint of desperation, and he starts towards the door. He pauses before he can cross the threshold, and he looks at Spencer. 

“Not a word of this leaves this office.” 

Spencer nods far too many times in confirmation, and then Gideon dashes out. He hears him calling your name yet again in the distance. They have a new case, they’ll probably be on the jet within the hour, he still has these files in his hands and that unanswered question, and yet he’s rooted in place with wide eyes. 

“Gideon has a daughter?” he repeats quietly to himself. 

[sundrop-writes]

BRAINWASHED

Virgin!Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader

Everything’s clean - except for my thoughts. (Thinking about me getting you off.)

Can’t stop thinking you got me B R A I N W A S H E D .

Summary:

Stiles likes you. He really, really, really likes you. It's bordering on obsession, but he likes to believe that he has it under control.

So when you accidentally leave a pair of your panties in his presence, ripe for the taking, and they're in his backpack faster than he can blink - he realizes that he might not have it as under control as he would like to think. But he can't find it to be too much of a problem when he has those panties wrapped around his cock.

Virgin!Stiles Stilinski x Best Friend!Fem!Reader. Pining!Stiles/One Sided Fantasies. Panty Stealing. Smut/PWP.

Word Count: 8,000

Teen Wolf Masterlist | AO3 Link

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: the reader uses she/her pronouns and is described as having a vagina; Stiles and the reader have been best friends since childhood and they are in high school now (they are both the same age) (for argument's sake, they are both 18, but the horny parts were motivated by the hotness of a 20-something actor so idc what age you interpret the characters as); the reader's looks are mostly undescribed and left neutral in terms of race, hair texture/colour, height, etc. however the reader is implied to be fat/plus sized; mentions of the reader wearing dresses and tights (things that the other characters on the show would typically wear); mentions of the reader having a cat - I did not give the cat a name so you can imagine it's the same as your cat's name/what you would want your cat to be called if you had one; use of Y/N and L/N (as in Last Name); brief mention that the reader would like wearing bikinis; the reader calls Stiles 'good boy' in non-sexual contexts and it turns him on; mentions of Stiles looking up the reader's skirt when she doesn't know it; some slight dubious consent because Stiles steals the reader's underwear without her consent and uses them in a sexual act (his masturbation); masturbation (Stiles touching himself); this is a one-sided/pining fic - all the sexual acts take place inside Stiles's mind as sexual fantasies while he masturbates; the reader character is described in these sexual acts as they play out in his mind, so that's why she is included heavily in the warnings; Stiles is submissive (even in his own fantasies) and he fantasies about the reader being dominant toward him; Stiles becoming aroused by the idea of the reader not shaving her pussy; technically there is edging - because Stiles edges himself to make his fantasies last longer; panty sniffing (though the panties Stiles took are freshly launder and not used ones); scent kink/sweat kink - Stiles likes the way you smell, including your sweat; kinks and sexual acts mentioned only in Stiles's fantasies (taking place only in his mind in this fic): car sex (in the back of the Jeep (typical, I know)), fingering (reader receiving), degradation kink (Stiles receiving - he likes the idea of the reader insulting him and being mean to him); pussy eating (Stiles fantasizes in depth about this); Reader makes a joke about spanking Stiles and Stiles has a small fantasy about being spanked by her; I think that's finally it.

A/N: Title for the fic comes from the song Brainwashed by Waterparks. Warning - Stiles might be a bit OOC in this because I wrote it before I started re-watching Teen Wolf again (and before I started watching Season 1 for the first time, because previously I had only seen 3B and beyond). In this, I have said that he's flunking classes and he's not really great with studying, while in the show, he's really smart and bookish and really well studied - but it could just be chalked up to the fact that he has a huge crush on the Reader that is distracting him from studying. So, interpret it how you want. I hope that you enjoy it, and please read through to my end notes to find out about a potential sequel to the fic!!

...

Stiles was hopeless. 

That was the only way to describe his current state of being. Completely, utterly hopeless. 

He was a complete and total loser, hopelessly in love with his best friend. And he was getting more stupidly caught up in that crush every single day. And of course, he didn’t even have the courage to admit his feelings for you so that it could be awkwardly out in the open. So that the two of you could get the rejection part over with, at least. 

Basically - his feelings for you were slowly ruining his life. 

Stiles had been in love with you for as long as he could remember. Well, maybe not that long. 

See, you, him, and Scott had all been friends since the beginning of kindergarten, and naturally, Stiles always liked you as a person. He always thought of you as a good friend, even if he gravitated toward Scott more.  

But he distinctly remembered the first moment when he had started to develop a crush on you. It was a very special memory to him - the day when you shifted in his eyes from annoying, slightly nagging friend to a beautiful, fierce woman. 

It was the day when the three of you were out on Halloween night during the third grade - and that was around the time people started whispering about crushes in school, when people would have playground girlfriends and boyfriends that they broke up with every other week. That night, a group of eighth grade bullies began chasing the three of you, trying to take your candy. 

Without hesitation, you picked up the largest rock in sight and threw it at one of them, causing a large cut across his forehead - and you loudly told them to ‘fuck off’ (the first time Stiles had ever heard such a word when it wasn’t coming from his dad). They had run away, somehow terrified of a girl a foot shorter than them. 

That night, you had become his hero. 

And since then, you had been the only object of his affections. 

Of course, over the years, Stiles had plenty of opportunities to tell you about his feelings for you. He just… always felt too cowardly to do so. 

In seventh grade, he had come very close to asking you out to the winter dance - only to have Scott beat him to the punch. When he pulled Scott aside to ask him about it, Scott confessed to him that he also had a crush on you. This resulted in their first ever fistfight. The first ever true rift in their otherwise close, brotherly friendship. 

The boys didn’t speak to each other for days. Which, naturally, annoyed the hell out of you. Especially because, of course, neither of them told you why they were fighting, not wanting you to know that you were the source of the rift in their friendship. And to you, this only made the fight seem more stupid and immature. 

So finally, when you demanded it, they called a truce. They agreed that they didn’t want to lose their friendship or lose you. They didn’t want to make you choose between them when it wouldn’t make any of you happy. 

So Stiles proposed that the three of you should go to the dance as friends, which you loved, and they both got you a corsage, one for each wrist - and the three of you still laughed at the pictures of you holding each of their arms. 

Eventually, Scott grew out of his crush on you and moved onto other girls, and he loved that he got to keep you as a close best friend, someone he could go to for dating advice if needed. Scott kept trying to convince Stiles to simply ‘man up’ and tell you about his feelings, but Stiles kept that same sentiment they had concluded upon years ago. Telling you about his feelings would only ruin the friendship. Not just between you, but between the entire group - it would fuck up the pack. 

Though it felt like the more he tried to ignore his feelings for you, the more they festered like a tumor. While Scott was able to mature past his crush on you, Stiles only grew more intense, and more insane when it came to his ‘crush’ on you. 

Over the years, his crush on you had grown from something sweet and childish into something much more. When puberty truly took over and lust was added into the mix, he now had to deal with the fact that you had grown into a gorgeous woman. He could barely control his arousal when looking at you, hearing your voice, smelling you, talking to you, thinking about you - even simply being in your presence made something in his mind melt. And it was growing much worse with each passing day. There wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t wake up with a raging boner fueled by sexual dreams of you. 

And naturally, he would say that not telling you about his feelings for you was ultimately the best thing for him. He would steadfastly refuse to admit that him being distracted by all these fantasies of you was slowly eroding your friendship from the inside out. Slowly, bit by bit, his worst fears were coming true - your friendship was being ruined by his crush anyway. 

But he tried to ignore that. Even if you were the most gorgeous, perfect being ever put on the planet, he tried his hardest to simply enjoy the platonic version of you. He tried to act like he wasn’t stupidly, head over heels in love with you. 

He tried not to act like it. 

But on nights like this, it was just so hard. 

Tonight, the two of you were studying for an upcoming English mid-term that would be worth a decent portion of your final grade. 

Logically, Stiles knew that he should have locked himself in his room and forced himself to study independently. Or he should have taken up Scott on his offer to study with him and Allison. 

But no, he just had to ask you for your ‘help’. 

And you pitied him and said yes, because he was doing poorly in the class. The only reason for that being because it was one of the classes that he shared with you, and he spent all of his damn time staring at you across the room during it. He had tried to tell himself that he really would study tonight, that he would really take advantage of your intelligence here and now to get his shit together in order to up his grade. 

But no. That was just one of many daily lies that he told himself. Since the moment he had set foot in your bedroom that afternoon (and it was dark out now, well into the evening) - he hadn’t been able to focus on anything but you. 

Sure, sometimes that worked to his benefit. Hearing you recite Shakespeare, the words coming off your sweet lips - it did force him to focus on the material at hand for at least a short period of time. But it wasn’t like he was actually retaining any of it. He was just thinking about how gorgeous your voice sounded and how amazing you would be in an adaptation of Romeo and Juliet. One where he played Romeo, of course - and he would get to use someone else’s well-crafted words to romance you, finally getting to kiss you for the first time. 

Again - he was hopeless. 

Currently, Stiles was laying diagonally on your bed, sitting among a mess of books - the English textbooks, the assigned novels, the published copies of the play, along with binders of your notes and other notebooks, stray papers. He couldn’t pay attention to the notes he was supposed to be writing, not for a moment, not if his life depended on it. Not when you looked this stunningly beautiful while busy writing your own notes. 

With the soft lighting from your bedside lamp brushing across your skin, making that skin look even softer, you were a goddess-like vision sitting on the bed across from him. You were wearing the simple dress that you had worn to school earlier that day, your modest tights since shed off in the name of ‘comfort’ (and so that your cat wouldn’t rip holes in them while crawling across your lap, you had remarked to Stiles). When you had stood at your hamper and peeled them off your legs, Stiles had a hard time not letting the drool spill out across his chin. 

Your thighs were gorgeous. Thick, wide, spread out like a buffet for his eyes to feast on every single time you sat down. From his angle, laying down the way he was, he was up close and personal with the dimpling cellulite and stretchmarks you had there. The hem of your dress had ridden up when you had adjusted your position to get comfortable, and he felt absolutely spoiled by how much more of your thighs were revealed to him. 

A few times throughout the evening, he had to physically clench his fingers, tight, to remind himself not to reach out and touch. To remind himself that he wasn’t allowed to touch. The last thing he wanted to do was to creep you out by randomly reaching out and touching your thigh. But he wanted so badly to touch. 

How many times had he imagined what those thighs would look like bouncing and jiggling while you rode his cock? How many times had he imagined those thighs clamped around his head while he licked your pussy? (Far too many times for the good of his own sanity.) 

Not to mention the concentration spread across your face - you were so fucking hot when you showed off your intelligence. Hell everything about you was hot - your sweetness, your laughter, your sarcasm, even your bitchy side. But your bookish side had to be one of Stiles’s favorites. 

The way you would nibble your own lip when thinking, the way your brows furrowed slightly in thought. Everything about you - from the bra strap sticking out of the neckline of your dress to the chipped edge of your nail polish where you had chewed on it - you were a fucking vision. And Stiles couldn’t take his eyes off you, no matter how hard he tried. 

It was a wonder that you didn’t notice Stiles staring at you - not as often as he did it. 

Stiles felt strangely caught when you put down your pen and looked up from your notebook, then. He quickly scrambled to grab his own pencil and start writing something, to look busy. But of course, he just looked like more of an idiot when the eraser end began scraping across the page in nonsense patterns. 

“Stiles,” You scolded him with a sigh, a way he was used to hearing his name come off your lips. “Have you gotten anything done? I told you to copy down at least half my notes-” 

Of course. You pegged his blank page as simple laziness, rather than his brain slowly melting out through his ears due to his inability to think about anything but you (especially when he was in the same room as you). At least he hadn’t been caught staring at you in that creepy way yet. 

You snatched up his notebook to check his work, and his heart dropped - if you looked too carefully, then he would be caught. In the back of that notebook, there were about three pages of his name and yours in hearts, and a few times he had practiced writing his signature as ‘Mr Stiles L/N’. (He was a feminist, and he liked the idea of starting a new tradition.) There was even a drawing he had made designing your theoretical wedding cake, including a cake topper where he was Superman and you were riding on his back while he was flying. 

“Y/N, uh-” 

He quickly snatched the notebook back, causing a glare from you while he sighed in defeat. 

“Fine.” He shrugged, knowing that he had to admit to a smaller crime in order to cover up the larger one. It was something that he did with his father all too often. “I didn’t get anything done. I was slacking off. You caught me.” 

“Stiles!” You scolded him again, reaching out to gently smack his shoulder. “If you keep this shit up, you’re never gonna graduate!” 

Sadly, you were probably right. His crush on you was absolutely going to ruin him. 

“Well, you could just let me copy off you,” He replied, giving you a wide grin that let you know he was mostly kidding. 

You rolled your eyes in reply, and soon your gaze caught sight of the clock on your nightstand. 

“Well, it seems like you have wasted enough of my time for tonight.” You scoffed sarcastically. 

Stiles knew that you had intended this to be a joke - but he couldn’t help the twinge of pain the words caused in his gut. The idea that he was truly just a waste of time in your life. He pressed his lips tightly together to suppress a frown and didn’t say anything more, and then you continued. 

���It’s almost your curfew anyway.” You pointed out, gesturing toward the clock. You were right. Stiles hadn’t even noticed how late it was getting - too busy enjoying his time with you. “We’ll pack it up for the night - but you should meet me at the library tomorrow morning, early, so we can go over everything again before the exam.” 

Of course, you were still invested in the idea of him getting a good grade, even if that seemed unlikely to happen. 

“You’re gonna make me get up early?” He whined, hating the idea of missing out on even ten extra minutes of sleep. 

“Yes.” You stressed. “I want you there at seven o’clock. Sharp.” 

Your ultra serious voice ordering him around was undeniably a turn-on for him. No matter what sexual fantasies Stiles cooked up about you in his mind, he could never picture himself having full control over you. In fact, most of the time, he found himself covered in cum at the idea of you having complete control over him. And it was likely because this was how most of your friendship went - you told him what to do, and he did it. And that was a huge part of why he fell for you in the first place. 

When he didn’t verbally confirm the time, too caught up in his infatuation yet again, you let out a gentle growl of frustration. 

“Stiles!” You called out his name. “You have to be there at seven. So you can’t get out of bed at seven - you have to set your alarm for like six-thirty, got it? Don’t make me come over there and get your ass out of bed like last time.” 

This thought caused Stiles’s stomach to clench. 

The last time you had come to his house to wake him up for school (because he had agreed to help you with some bakesale project and you were pissed off that he wasn’t there early to help you set up tables and whatnot) - you had charged into his house in a fury. You had your own key, of course, and his dad wasn’t there to busy you with conversation or pleasantries. 

And you charged right up the stairs and nearly caught him with a hand around his cock, jerking off to a picture of you in a bikini from the summer before. And he had rushed to shove the picture in his nightstand and cocoon himself in the comforter to hide his body just as you made it to the top of the stairs, shouting at him for being late. Luckily, he had gotten away with the lie that he had slept in, rather than revealing the truth that he had been distracted because he had woken up with morning wood after having a heated dream about you. 

When Stiles didn’t respond yet again, you grabbed a smaller decorative pillow from behind you and lightly hit him with it for emphasis, causing him to burst into laughter. 

“Promise me you’ll be on time!” You said, smacking him with the pillow again. 

“Yes, yes! I promise!” He finally agreed, his face becoming pink from laughter. 

You dropped the pillow then, and leaned down, causing his eyes to inadvertently go straight to your cleavage while you gave him a gentle, friendly kiss on the forehead. 

“Good boy.” You responded, praising him for agreeing to your terms. Obviously, it was another joke. 

But these praising words combined with your lips even slightly brushing against his skin, along with your tits dangling so close to his face, had his cock swelling to hardness nearly instantly. He grabbed the pillow then, trying to look subtle as he put it over his crotch, desperately trying to hide the very obvious bulge that had popped up at the front of his jeans within seconds. 

He was lucky when you shifted your attention away from him, now busy with cleaning off the bed, gathering your textbooks in a pile and moving to put them on your desk in the corner. You being distracted gave him a few moments to try and mentally will his dick down, which worked slightly. Only slightly. 

“You could help me, you know.” You mocked him lightly - distracting him from his thoughts of baseball, trying to will the blood out of his cock. 

He looked up and saw you standing there with his backpack, putting away his textbooks and notebooks now. He had been so dumbly distracted by his own dick that he hadn’t noticed you taking the kind initiative to clean up his things for him too. 

“Right, sorry.” He jumped into action and did so, taking things from your hands and shoving them into his bag with haste. 

“You don’t have to rush out, I just need the bed cleared off so I can pick out my clothes for tomorrow.” You told him. 

“Wait - you actually pick out your clothes in advance?” He asked, thinking that this was entirely adorable, and explained why you were always so well dressed. 

(And it explained why you were always so punctual in the mornings while Stiles was usually a mess - running around his house still half-asleep, shoving his head into a shirt that he had sniffed to see if it was clean, shoving things frantically into his bag in order to get out the door five minutes late.) 

“Well you know not all of us are okay with just throwing on last week’s mustard stained tee shirt,” You said, playfully pointing to a mustard stain that he had on his shirt from lunch. 

He rolled his eyes in return, trying to ignore the slight twist of embarrassment that wanted to swell up inside of him at the comment. 

There had been a point where he used to make a very pointed effort to impress you. Back when his crush on you had first gotten serious - likely around the beginning of high school. He used to get up early every single morning, spending a lot of time being intensely picky about the clothes he wore. He drowned himself in cologne (until you had complained about it), he wore certain colors just because you mentioned liking them. But none of it seemed to garner any more of your attention than usual. 

And so, he resigned himself to be the loser best friend who would always just float at the corners of your life, drowning in his secret affection for you until some better, hotter guy came along and swept you off your feet one day. 

He was just glad that day hadn’t come yet. 

Stiles was hesitant to leave - he wasn’t done being around you for the day yet, too emotionally attached. But he guessed that he would need to get some decent sleep before waking up at the asscrack of dawn in order to see more of you the next morning. (Even if it would include the horrors of studying at the library.) 

“So - I’ll see you tomorrow morning?” He posed, ready to take his leave as he swung his backpack over his shoulder. 

“Ooh, wait one second.” You said, eagerness twinging through your voice. 

His heart pounded hard in his chest for a moment, wondering if this could be the moment he had been waiting so long for - would you stop him there, grab him by the shoulders and kiss him hard, and then tell him that you had been feeling the exact same way as he had for all these years? 

“Which one?” You asked, spinning around from your closet to face him, holding up two dresses on hangers. 

Oh. You were asking for his opinion about what you should wear to school the next day. 

“The blue one.” Stiles said, motioning towards it. “That shade of blue looks beautiful on you - it compliments your skin tone well, and it makes you shine. But ya know, you look gorgeous in everything. You could wear a paper bag to school and everyone would still be jealous of how amazing you look.” 

He rambled on for a moment too long, and realized that his genuine fondness for you - something straying too far into romantic territory - was slipping out. 

“But - uh, yeah. I’ll see you later.” He quickly added on, now eager to leave before you could make any further comments. 

Then he dashed out of your room and down the stairs, getting out the front door so fast that he practically left a poof of cartoon dust behind him. 

He got into the Jeep and tossed his bag into the passenger’s seat - which, he hadn’t realized was not even zipped up. (A habit you often scolded him for - going around with his bag unzipped.) Papers and books spilled across the seat and underneath it, and he let out a loud growl of frustration. 

“Idiot!” He screamed, scolding himself as he leaned down, trying to clean everything up. “Idiot, idiot, idiot!” 

Partially, he was feeling so idiotic because he had just been so vulnerable with you and you probably thought he was weird for it. Actually, that was mostly why. 

As he was picking up his things, he realized that - yup, he was missing his English textbook. He had forgotten it in your room. He heaved out a sigh and collapsed back against his seat. He could leave without it - but then he would get an earful from you in the morning about how he was ‘forgetful’ and ‘irresponsible’. Ugh. 

He got out of the Jeep again and shuffled his way back into your house - your mom was working late, so there was nobody there to question him running out of the house at top speed and then appearing back so soon. All he got was a curious chirp and a head tilt from your cat, who was sitting on the top of the stairs. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Stiles remarked to the animal, stopping for a moment to pet him. “I’m pathetic. But you can’t rat me out, okay? I know she thinks highly of your opinion and I need you to put in a good word for me. Got it?” 

The cat purred and pushed his face into Stiles’s hand, so he assumed that was a positive affirmation that he would root for Stiles - or at the very least, keep his secret. 

Stiles linger for a moment to scratch the cat’s furry cheek, and then he stepped over the cat and made his way back toward your room. He passed the closed bathroom door and heard the shower running, and he almost cheered. If you were in the shower, then you wouldn’t notice him slipping back in to grab his book, so you couldn’t scold him for being a forgetful idiot. 

He went into your room, and the second he made it through the mouth of your open bedroom, his eyes locked onto your bed like a hot target. Your clothes for the following day were spread out so neatly, and right there, on top of the blue dress he had suggested - there was a pair of lacy purple panties that were something right out of one of his fantasies. 

Stiles had thought about your underwear before - many times. Too many times to count. 

He had even caught small, passing glimpses of your underwear before - when you had worn dresses without tights and bent over in front of him. But he had only seen enough of it to determine the color, not to know if it was lacy or silk or cotton. And even that was enough to send him into a tailspin that had him rushing to the bathroom to relieve his aching cock. 

In the back of his mind - or truly, the forefront of his mind whenever he jerked off to thoughts of you - he always wondered what kind of underwear you wore. What kind of decorative wrapping your pretty pussy would come in if he ever got the other-worldly privilege of getting his hands up your skirt. 

Would they be simple, practical cotton underwear? Would they be cute? Would they be sinfully sexy? Would they be those underwear with the days of the week written across the front? 

But seeing this now - seeing the tangible evidence in front of him that you actually planned to wear purple lacy lingerie to school - it was something that had all sense draining from his mind as blood rushed to his cock once again. He barely had time to think about it - and he didn’t think about it. Because then, they were in his hands, in his pocket, and he was back in the Jeep, hiding his stolen goods in his bag and hastily zipping it up so he could slam his foot on the gas and race home. 

He didn’t even have a chance to think about the fact that he left without the textbook that he had gone back into your room looking for. He didn’t have the attention span to notice that said textbook was in a stack along with your own - almost as if purposefully kept there like an excuse to lure him back into your room, rather than clumsily forgotten by him. 

… 

When Stiles got into his room, he slammed his bedroom door shut behind him, now entirely frantic, and thankful that his father was working a late shift again. He sat down on the edge of his bed, his hands shaking with anticipation as he unzipped his bag and pulled out the thing he had so hastily snagged. 

His mind was warring with so many sensations. Guilt for taking the panties, paranoia that he would get caught, shame that he even had the urge to take them in the first place - but all of that was easily toppled over and forgotten in the name of lust. Overwhelming lust and arousal that he felt for you. Greed and joy at knowing that he had something so private of yours in his hands now - something so secret that he shouldn’t have. A perfect little piece of you. 

His little secret piece of you. 

He still couldn’t believe that this was the kind of underwear you wore on a daily basis. 

Just imagining that this was what you wore to school - thinking about the fact that this was what you were wearing under your clothes during your everyday interactions with him: it drove him wild. 

He easily pictured this pretty lace sticking to your cunt when you were wet, the lavender colored material getting slick and slightly darker, soaked through and visibly sticky when you spread your legs for him to see. He wondered if your pussy would be shaved or not - but you didn’t have a boyfriend, so currently, you didn’t have anybody to shave for. 

He remembered a conversation from a few weeks ago where Scott had wondered if he should shave his pubes for Allison and you had remarked that ‘putting a razor near your junk’ was ‘ill-advised and stupid’ - so you probably didn’t even like shaving your pussy on principle. 

This immediately put a picture in his mind of your pussy being covered in soft hair that matched the shade on your head - maybe a bit darker. It would clump together with your juices and become soaked when you got wet. The little hairs would probably stick out cutely from the sides of the bikini cut underwear, peeking at him. 

Your pussy would be the prettiest thing he had ever seen, he knew that for certain. 

Stiles imagined getting you in the backseat of the Jeep one night after a game. 

He would still be covered in sweat from his efforts, worn out from trying his best. Sure, he wasn’t the best player, but you wanted to ‘reward’ him for his efforts on the winning side, even if he hadn’t directly contributed to the win. 

So as soon as the game was over, before he even had time to change out of his pads or shower, you hauled him to the parking lot and shoved him into the car. His gear was only half-off, ditched hastily by your feet, and you were in his lap - a perfect prize after all the hard work he had done, sitting astride his already sore thigh muscles while you kissed him - hard. Your mouth greedily sucked the oxygen out of his lungs while you shoved your tongue past his lips, painting his tongue with your sweet spit - and fuck, it felt like he was made for this. 

He got sucked so deep into the fantasy - it felt so damn real. 

He imagined having his hands splayed out against your beautiful, plump ass, gripping you tightly, noting wanting you to separate from him for even a section. While you held on tightly to his face, sealing him into the kiss until his lips were sore. And you would only pull back to look into his eyes with glossy desperation and utter out: 

“Please, Stiles. I need you. I need you to touch my pussy.” 

And what else could he do but obey? 

So he would lift up your skirt - a particularly short skirt that you had worn with nothing else but a pair of knee-high socks. Something that you knew he loved to see you cheer for him on the sidelines while wearing. Even though it was a chilly night, you couldn’t feel too cold when you saw him glancing at you every single chance he got. Of course, those distracted stares had gotten him screamed at by Coach more than once. But he loved the way your skirt would flutter up in the nighttime breeze, teasing him. The way the fucking beautiful thick fat of your thighs would jiggle whenever you would jump around in order to cheer him on. 

He was a man of simple, divine tastes. 

So - he would lift up that perfect skirt to find those purple lacy panties underneath; to find the perfection of your wet cunt waiting for him, growing slicker by the second, more needy for him. You were humping yourself against his athletic cup, which his hard cock was practically dying inside of, bursting to get out of the hard shell of plastic to touch you. But he ignored his own needs for a few minutes longer in favor of yours. Reaching forward, sliding his fingers along the wet spot at the front of your panties, absolutely indulging in the beautiful gasp you let out when his touch grazed across your swollen clit through the fabric. 

“Stiles, please.” 

He could almost hear it - it was so fucking clear inside his mind. The way your voice would be so pitched with desperation, so perfectly needy curled around his name. He wanted so badly to hear it in real life. 

And he would push those panties to the side, pushing his fingers inside of your hot, wet cunt-

Back in the real world, Stiles’s cock gave a needy pulse, leaking into his boxers. 

He heaved out a sigh, his cock practically vibrating with blood. He had driven home the whole time trying to ignore that boner, but he simply couldn’t do that anymore. He just had to give in. 

He hesitantly put your panties aside - already feeling a strange sense of attachment to them - and reached to his nightstand, grabbing the bottle of lube that he had in the drawer. Shamefully, it was already half empty, mostly due to the fantasies that he had about you. He undid his pants and had them around his ankles in record time, and whipped off his shirt for good measure, knowing that he was quite a ‘splasher’ and not wanting to get cum on it to pair with that ugly mustard stain. 

He lubed up his cock more than a healthy amount, knowing that it would contribute to the fantasy of you being so wet around him. It was a distant fantasy that he would never actually get to achieve, but hell - a man can dream. Then he began to slowly pump his cock in hand, wanting to milk it and truly enjoy it, and he let his mind get back to work. 

He thought back to your place. A place he was comfortable, spent a lot of time at hanging out with you. 

He imagined that early that night when he had forgotten his book, rather than you being in the shower, he went back to your room and found that you had been getting ready for bed. You were rubbing sweet-smelling lotion on your arms, pulling back the covers, wearing nothing but a pair of cute little socks, a tiny camisole - where he could very visibly see that you weren’t wearing a bra, with the natural teardrop shape of your breasts bared to the eye, your nipples poking through the fabric - and those purple lace panties. 

When he would appear in the doorway, you would gawk at him and ask: 

“Stiles? What are you doing? Did you… forget something?” 

But you would be positioned half leaning over the bed, taking back the covers so it would be comfortable for you to sleep - and your ass would be unintentionally on full display. Your sweet pussy lips peeking at him from behind, the roundness of your ass so fucking inviting, daring him to leave bite marks across the beautifully fat flesh. 

And after a few moments of him staring so brazenly, saying nothing, simply drinking in the gorgeous sight of your body bent over, wearing so little clothing, wearing those perfect little lace panties-

(Stiles sped up his hand on his cock, the lube sounding downright sloppy in the silence of the room.) 

You would stand up to your full height, come to him in the doorway, put your face so close to his and say: 

“If you’re gonna spend so much time staring at me like a gaping idiot, then you should do something about it.” 

Stiles had to stop the swift movements of his hand and clutch his grip tightly around the base of his cock, making his entire dick throb hard as he edged off his own orgasm. 

He still wasn’t sure why the idea of you calling him an ‘idiot’ in such a brazen tone made him want to cum so hard - but he didn’t have time to unpack all that now. 

He grabbed up the panties again with his non-lubed hand. Something in the back of his mind thought that it would be a crime for him to get them dirty. Another part argued that he would absolutely love to get them covered in his cum, not clean them, and then return them to you. That it would be fucking thrilling to have you wear them in that dirtied state. 

Though he knew that would never fucking happen. 

If he returned the panties to you covered in his cum, then you would slap him, call him a pervert, and likely have Scott beat the shit out of him with his newly harnessed werewolf strength. Stiles pushed this thought to the back of his mind, though. 

Out of curiosity, he lifted the fabric to his nose and took a whiff. They smelled like fresh laundry - a nice lemony detergent. Of course they weren’t ones you had previously worn - they were a pair you had been planning on wearing tomorrow. 

He distantly wondered if that meant you would not be wearing underwear tomorrow, because he had taken your intended pair. And that could have led his mind down a whole different filthy track, but instead - he began to wonder what a pair of your dirty underwear might smell like. 

You should take a pair of used ones. A voice in his mind told him. Snatch them right out of the hamper. Come on, you’re over at her place all the time. She won’t even notice them gone. 

Terrible idea. Terrible rabbit hole. 

But what would they smell like? 

He wasn’t deluded enough to think that pussy smelled like roses. He had never been close enough to one - a real pussy - before to actually know. Yes, he was a virgin. He could have said that he was waiting, ‘saving it’ for you - but every other girl, including you, was smart enough to look past him. There were plenty of other guys who were better looking and more charming than him, and probably better in bed than him, that girls had chosen instead of him. 

He wondered if your pussy smelled like that perfect bit of sweat that you gathered at the end of a long day. Sometimes when he went to hug you before the two of you parted ways, he would catch a whiff of the tiniest undertone of musk, a good amount of sweat paired with the berry scented body spray you had put on that morning, and orange tic-tacs you had popped after lunch. It was a delectable combination. 

He imagined that your cunt would smell like that bit of sweat, combined with the blueberry body wash you used - the one he knew about and loved because of the time you had insisted he use your shower while stinking up a study session because he had skipped the showers after lacrosse practice when he was late to be with you. 

He imagined getting hints of that blueberry body wash smell coming off your thighs when his head was buried between them. What would your cunt taste like? That was a mystery he wanted to solve live. 

He could always imagine the other aspects so well. 

He could imagine the feeling of the heat under his tongue, the perfect feeling of your wetness mixing with his spit. He imagined getting to bounce your swollen clit against his tongue and while feeling your moans and cries of his name vibrate through your body as he pleasured you so well - the feeling of your pubes brushing against his cheeks as his entire face became soaked with your wetness. 

But the taste - that was something he could never conjure up in his mind, no matter how hard he tried. 

He knew that eating your pussy would be perfect. Not just because he would be giving you pleasure, serving you. But he so often dreamed of having his head smothered by your thighs, having you grab his head and shove him tighter into your cunt, you purposeful and demanding. You having that beautiful control over him while he drowned in your wetness. 

He knew that he would likely cum in his pants from eating you out if he ever got the privilege of doing so, and even if you laughed at him - stupidly, he would find that hot too. 

Stiles picked up the pace again, pumping his cock in hand evenly and firmly - even reaching down with the other hand to cradle his balls, gently rolling the flesh in his hand as he got lost in another fantasy of you. 

He imagined the two of you in his bed - textbooks forgotten and pushed off onto the floor, your dress hiked up around your hips, and again, those fucking purple lace panties. He was on top of you, hovering on his knees so that his hard cock wouldn’t brush against you (even through his jeans) while the two of you sloppily made-out. 

It wasn’t long before you pulled away from his kiss-swollen lips. 

“Stiles,” You purred into his ear, kissing along his neck. “You know, you’re so pathetic.” 

These words had his cock jumping, spurting out precum - in his fantasy, it made his underwear messy as you undid his fly. 

In the real world, it made his hand messy as he continued to rhythmically jerk his cock. 

“I’m not gonna let you fuck me.” You told him, contrasting these words with your intentions as you put your hands inside his waistband and shoved his pants and underwear down over his hips - down to his knees until his hard, throbbing cock was exposed. “Not until you prove yourself.” 

Before Stiles could ask the question, the beautiful, fantastic you that he had made up inside his mind gave him the perfect answer. 

“Get yourself off by rubbing your pathetic dick against my panties. And then - I might let you fuck me.” 

In the real world, Stiles let out a throttled moan - a choked sound that surely would have had his father knocking on the door to ask if he was okay if he was at home. And then he rushed to grab the panties again, and without even thinking, he used his sticky lubed up hand to position the fabric around his dick. It was a coarse roughness compared to the slick smoothness he had previously been feeling, but it did wonders to complete his fantasy as he delved back to the you inside of his mind. 

He started rubbing the slightly lube-sticky rough fabric up and down his dick at a very slow pace as he imagined it: 

Being perched between your thighs, with the fabric of the panties stuck to your wet cunt, his cock hard and leaking as he tucked himself right up against you and began to rub his dick against you in order to get off. Just like you wanted, just like you had ordered him to do. 

“Please.” Stiles chanted, the words leaking out of his lips, chanted into his empty bedroom as he pleaded to the imaginary you that would always have a hold over him - just as tight of a hold as the real you had. “Please, please - oh fuck.” 

He moved the fabric over his cock faster as he moved his hips faster in the fantasy, imagining how hot your pussy would feel against him, imagining your nails digging into his hips as you looked up at him with mocking and adoration in your eyes. He imagined you forcing his hips faster, trapping him in place with your knees bracketed around his thighs, showing him absolutely no mercy. 

“Please, please, please.” He chanted, knowing with a distant part of his mind that he must have sounded utterly delirious. “Please, Y/N, lemme cum-” 

“Cum for me, Stiles.” 

Confirmed by that fantasy version of you and truly unable to hold it any longer, Stiles arched up off the bed, cumming all over his own fist. Just as he had predicted, it was an utter, uncontrollable mess. He shot cum all over his stomach, and absolutely soaked the fabric of the panties - making a horrible mess of them. Which, the lube had definitely already done. He laid there for a single moment catching his breath before it truly hit him. 

Fuck. He had fucked up. 

You would definitely notice the underwear missing after a while and he certainly couldn’t return them to you in this condition. 

… 

Stiles spent the next hour in the bathroom, absolutely panicking over how to get them clean. Luckily, he wasn’t a total idiot and he looked up the washing instructions online - and after hand-washing them in warm water with a ‘gentle’ detergent (handsoap was the best that he could do), they came out perfectly clean. 

The only problem? 

Hang to dry. 

He set his alarm for early, earlier than you suggested, and prayed that he wouldn’t sleep through it. In fact, he set three more alarms just to make sure. He couldn’t have you or his father barging into his room to wake him up when he had a pair of your stolen panties pinned to his corkboard in order to properly dry them so that he could sneak them back to you in good condition. 

… 

The next day, he departed for school by 6:45 with the stolen goods hidden away in his bag, ready to sneak them back into your room later that afternoon. He made it to the library ten whole minutes before seven, and you seemed shocked that he was not only on time - but early. 

“Wow.” You said, having just gotten there yourself, spreading out your items at a table - including a tray with some coffees. “You know, Stiles, I am impressed.” 

“You don’t have to act so - so shocked.” He replied, partially interrupted by a yawn. 

You leaned over to get a pen from your bag, and Stiles’s eyes immediately went to your ass, unconsciously trying to spot panty lines through your dress and tights - wondering if you were even wearing underwear because he had stolen the ones you had intended for today. 

Focus, Stiles. Focus. 

“Well, if you weren’t here by seven sharp like I told you, I was gonna pour this in the garbage.” You told him, taking his coffee out of the paper tray and sliding it toward him. 

“You don’t have to be so mean.” He chuckled, airy and light - very secretly annoyed with the way your ‘mean’ streak affected him sometimes. Why did he have to be turned on by you scolding him and punishing him? Why? 

“Hey, if I’m not mean then you never get anything done.” You told him truthfully. “And you know how it works by now. Good boys get rewards and bad boys get spanked.” You told him, letting out a bright laugh - indicating that it was clearly meant to be a joke. 

But instantly, it shook his mind with imagery of you bending him over the table, ripping his pants down and spanking him until he came untouched and cried for mercy, forcing him to agree that he would behave and listen to you. He became downright dizzy at the thought. 

You meant it as a joke - he had to sharply remind himself. But the way you so casually called him a ‘good boy’, said that he was deserving of a ‘reward’ - it sent chills down his spine and already had his cock waking up. Too early. Bad rabbit hole. 

If he was any sort of brave, he would have pushed it more and asked you what kind of ‘reward’ you had in mind. But he wasn’t, and he was too tired to analyze the potential consequences. 

“Oh!” You said, as though suddenly remembering something. You moved to grab your bag again and Stiles closed his eyes to forcefully keep himself from staring at your ass. “You left this at my place last night.” You told him, sliding his English textbook across the table toward him. 

He was too busy trying to calm his own lust that he missed the smirk on your face - the mischief lingering in your eyes, the intention in your tone. He was too caught up, drowning in his own affections for you that he never would have pieced together that you had taken in and hidden it on purpose as a ploy to get him to come back. That you had put out some other bait for him to find. 

“Thanks.” He said quietly. “So - what do we need to go over before the test?”

“Everything.” 

Stiles groaned.

...

Edit to my notes as of Oct. 9th, 2024:

It is now my biggest regret announcing that there is a sequel to this fic in my drafts, but there is one that is fully written and just needs to be edited (but that is something that takes time and effort - neither of which I am going to put into the fic right now). However, it will not be posted anytime soon, and it is delayed infinitely. It will be posted when it is posted (and currently I don't know when that will be), and I would appreciate people not chasing me down and not asking about it.

Originally, my point of having a comment and reblog goal on this fic was so that a certain percentage of the people who read and liked the preview for this fic would have to reblog it, but the ratio on this fic is still absolutely horrendous, and it's clear to me that once people saw that goal was met, they didn't care to reblog this fic or comment on it if they enjoyed it - they only care to nag me and chase me down for the sequel while this fic sits at over 600 likes and less than 100 reblogs and comments (including my replies to people's comments).

If you are reading this fic after the edit, I hope you enjoyed it. I hope you do stick around on my blog while I work on and post other things. But the sequel to this fic will not be coming out anytime soon because I am a person with shifting interests, not a robot. Those shifting interests (and me chasing them organically) is the reason that I can produce 200k of fanfiction in a year and post all of it for free for people to enjoy.

And as always - if you enjoyed this fic, please comment about the body of work that has been written. And perhaps, consider reblogging it to show your appreciation. Please do not comment about the sequel.

If you want to be tagged in the next part, you can ask to be put on my Teen Wolf taglist by interacting with this post, but please know that if you don't follow my taglist rules, you will be removed from the taglist promptly. If that happens, you are still welcome to read and enjoy future fics, you just won't be included in my taglists ever again.

Happy reading, and I hope you enjoyed the fic!!

[froggiewrites]

Jealousy, Jealousy

Pairing: Sanji x Reader

SFW

Summary: You spend the night crying into your drinks about how much you want Sanji, and how much it hurts he's in love with someone else. Sanji spends the night crying about much the same. Your friends get sick of it, and decide to help the idiots realize what everyone else already knows. Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Misunderstandings, Sanji and Reader both being idiots Word Count: 4.1k

You are going to get drunk tonight. Plastered, even.

Another day, another victory, another adventure spent staring longingly at Sanji when you were sure he wasn’t looking. You could usually handle the embarrassment of acting like a lovesick puppy for a man you knew didn’t feel the same, but something about today really set you off. Maybe it was the way he so sweetly called Nami’s name when you all reunited, or the way he so carefully prepared Robin her favorite drinks, or some other transgression you can’t quite remember. You don’t know exactly what it was, but you know you’re irritated and hurt and a little heartbroken, and there’s about a half a dozen drinks with your name on them behind the bar.

The tavern is lively and loud, and the rest of the crew is clearly having a good time. Your eyes briefly linger on Sanji at the bar, but you try to force your eyes away. No point in lingering here, yearning for something you can’t have. You instead make your way to the back of the room, wedging yourself between Zoro and Robin, who seem to be drinking in silence together.

You had intended on sharing in the peaceful silence, broken only by some quiet comments and gentle chuckles, but three drinks in you can see them side-eyeing you, brows furrowed.

“What?” Your voice comes out harsher than you meant it to, but you’re a bit too drunk to care.

“Just surprised you’re drinking so much, is all. You normally pace yourself more than this.” Robin’s voice is quiet and controlled, as though she’s just making a passive observation, but you know your friends and you know she is deeply worried about you.

“I had a bad day.”

“Really? You seemed fine earlier.” Zoro sounds genuinely surprised. Robin shoots him a look you can’t read, and he quickly shuts his mouth.

“Does this have anything to do with a certain someone?” Her voice is kind, so kind, but it makes you clench your jaw anyway.

“No.”

Silence.

“Maybe.”

Zoro mutters, “Oh, god damnit,” before taking another stiff pull of his drink.

“What happened, exactly? You both seemed perfectly friendly this morning.”

“I don’t…know. Everything was fine until it wasn’t, and now I’m all twisted into knots and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Well maybe you can start by telling us how you feel, and we can try to help you unravel all of this.”

“We?”

You both ignore Zoro’s confusion and indignation. “Maybe…if you think it will help.” You close your eyes, grounding yourself, and focusing wholly inward. “I just think I’m…tired of wanting things I can’t have. It’s really hard to be on a ship full of people living their dreams, fighting for everything they desire, and I’m here, feeling like I have to constantly hold so tight I feel like my fingers will break or else it’ll all slip through my fingers.”

“And do you feel like you’re holding onto Sanji?”

“Not just him, I guess. To everything. To all of you. But I’m trying to let myself believe that all of this is what I want, and that it’s going to be forever, and then I see him smile at someone else and the illusion just…shatters. I’m not happy. And I know damn well it won’t last forever. I feel like I’m stuck waiting for an inevitable ending that I’ll never be satisfied with. Right now, I’m in limbo, and I can keep pretending that it doesn’t hurt, but every time I think about how hopeless I feel with him it kind of reminds me of how hopeless it all is.”

You put your head in your hands for a moment, taking a deep breath. “And it’s not only about him, right? It’s just kind of a general dissatisfaction with where I am compared to you guys. But I would be lying if I said it wasn’t more about Sanji than it isn’t. He’s both, like, a symbol of it and the source of it. He’s the thing I want most, and he’s the thing I know I’m never going to have.”

“Why do you think you’ll never have him?”

“Because he’s in love with Nami.” You say it like it’s obvious.

Zoro is glaring at his drink, still wondering how he got roped into this conversation and praying you stop, while Robin gives you a gentle look resembling sympathy. There's something behind her eyes though, something you can't read, that makes you feel a bit uneasy.

"It's one thing, to have your love unrequited. For the man you're in love with to be hopelessly smitten with someone else. But god, it's another for him to be right."

"Right?" Robin's voice doesn't betray anything as she keeps her tone to a careful academic neutrality.

"It's just...she is that wonderful. I can't be upset about it because I can't blame either of them. She's beautiful and kind and capable and he's...well. He's everything. It just makes sense. It's somehow harder not to be bitter because I really don't have anything to be bitter about, if that makes sense."

"It would make sense if anything you said was true." Zoro's voice is gruff,  and you look to him in surprise, only to find his expression mirroring your own, as though he can't believe he opened his mouth. "He sucks, and she's great and all but she's no angel. And they aren't in love anyway so I don't understand what the problem even is." You think he's trying to help. Sweet, if ineffective.

"He's in love with her. He has been since the day they met. You know that, you were there."

"That isn't love. He's just a horny idiot."

"He's not an idiot." You hate how defensive your tone gets, how pathetic it makes you feel. You hate even more that Zoro and Robin both look at you with undisguised pity.

"I think what Zoro is trying to say is that you seem to think his feelings for Nami go a lot deeper than they do. They're just friends. He just speaks to all women like that."

"Not me."

You all hate the silence that follows.

"He hits on you too." Zoro's voice is a little weaker than before, knowing his argument isn't exactly rock solid. He's kind to you, complimentary, but he's never rushed into battle alone to save you. He's never ridden in on a blazing white steed for you, not like he has Robin or Nami. And sure, you've never been kidnapped like them, but it's hard not to feel the difference when Mr Prince himself has never played his part with you. He's kind to you, so very kind, but he's kind to everyone. That's just who he is.

“You know it isn’t the same, Zoro. It’s always Nami first. It always has been. He talks to me the same way he would any woman. Less than that, even.” You start tearing up despite yourself, and you hope your friends will blame your fragility on your drink and not your tender heart. “He just…he doesn’t look at me like that. He doesn’t fall at my feet, and it’s not like I want him to but…” You break into a quiet sob, and Robin’s hand comes to your shoulder, rubbing calming circles there.

Zoro leans in a bit, clearly a little uncomfortable but worried and kind nonetheless. “That stupid cook cares about you a lot more than any stranger on the street, and I think you know that. He’s just an idiot.” You look up at him, confused, and Zoro tries not to let out an annoyed sigh at your obliviousness. It isn’t entirely your fault. Who could blame you for thinking what you did? It’s not like Sanji helped with that. He didn’t give you the dramatic love confessions he did Nami or Robin. Nami had asked him once why he sang your praises differently than he did theirs, and he had insisted that he would give you only the grandest speeches, once he had prepared words worthy of you. The rest of the crew quickly figured out what he really meant: he was too nervous to say such a thing when he really meant it.  He would instead tuck his love into the food and drinks he served you, into the jacket he placed over your shoulders when you were cold, into the gentle smiles he gave you when you weren’t looking. Everyone had agreed not to push him before he was ready, to let you both find your way to each other naturally, but it was becoming apparent this was the wrong move.

You keep crying into your glass, and Zoro sighs. You’re both ridiculous. What a pair.

Across the bar, Usopp lets out his fiftieth sigh of the night. He has no idea how he got roped into this. Sanji is somewhere between sorrow and rage, buried in a pile of empty glasses that reek of beer. He's been going on for at least fifteen minutes now, and if Usopp had even slightly less of a conscience he'd leave him here to wallow, considering his problem is entirely self-inflicted. But unfortunately, Usopp is a great friend, so instead he bravely sits on this barstool, a listening ear to make sure Sanji's drowning his troubles doesn't end in Sanji himself drowning after he stumbles his way home alone.

"It's not right." Sanji's voice is shaky with emotion, even with his words slurred.

Usopp sighs, pretending he hasn't heard this exact line of conversation three times tonight. "What's not right, buddy?"

"He doesn't...he doesn't deserve her. He isn't good enough for her. That stupid swordsman...what does she see in him?" He takes another swig of his drink, letting out a deep sigh and dropping his shoulders. "He's just...he's not even nice to her. Not like he should be."

"He's being nice to her right now." Usopp motions over to where you're having your own pity party, one Zoro seems to have become an unwilling guest of. Robin is patting your shoulder in sympathy, while Zoro leans closer to say something to you, care and concern obvious on his face to those who knew him.

"But he should worship her. Everyone should. She's...she's..." Sanji drunkenly trails off.

"An angel?"

"A goddess." Despite the glaze over his eyes, his conviction shines though, granting him a focus he hasn't had all night as he gazes at her. "Someone to be cherished, protected, adored. He doesn't adore her. He should be on his knees right now begging for her attention, and he's just...talking to her. Like he would anybody."

"Probably because they're friends."

"But look at her. She clearly wants more than that. She should get whatever she wants. On a silver platter." Sanji really emphasizes that last part, lips pouting and brow tightening. Usopp looks over again to see you about to cry into your drink, leaning further into Robin. You aren't even looking at Zoro right now, but Sanji is still burning with envy. Usopp would love to set him straight, tell him that anyone with eyes could see who's attention you really wanted, but he knows you'd kill him, and he quite likes being alive. Sanji's so filled with malice and self loathing right now that he probably wouldn't even believe him, anyway. For a man so delusional about love, he somehow can’t see it when it’s right in front of him.

“I think you’re a little lost here, Sanji. She’s not in love with Zoro. She’s just drunk and sad. Reminds me of someone else I know.” He keeps that last part under his breath, and Sanji is drunk enough not to have heard it. Instead he frowns, taking another swig of his drink before trying to stand and falling directly into the counter. Your head pops up across the room, eyes wide and concerned, ready to leap to Sanji’s rescue. It’s amazing how blind that man must be to not see how obsessed with him you are. Usopp waves you off before hooking his hands under Sanji’s armpits and hauling him up. “Time to go, loverboy. You’ve had enough.”

“But she needs me!” Sanji struggles, but he’s so drunk he can’t properly utilize his strength. Lucky, or he’d already be halfway across the room to make an ass of himself. Usopp notices a small trickle of blood on his forehead from where he made contact with the bar.

“She’s fine, I promise. But you need to take a trip to see Chopper.”

“I need to help her! I can’t leave a lady in distress!”

“The lady will be in a lot more distress if she sees you’re hurt, Sanji! So get moving!” Usopp starts dragging him unceremoniously from the tavern, praying Franky will still be awake when he gets back to the ship to help him maneuver Sanji into his cot. Sanji passes out about halfway back to the Sunny, mercifully. Usopp hopes Robin and Zoro are having a better time with their other drunken crewmate.

You wake up with a pounding headache and the worst case of dry-mouth you’ve ever experienced. Your eyes just barely crack open, letting in a blinding ray of light, and you let out a small groan of pain. There’s a large glass of water by your bedside and some pills, as well as a small note from Chopper telling you to meet him in the infirmary once you feel up to walking. You chug the water and take your medicine gladly, touched by the sweet gesture. Your crew takes such good care of you.

It takes a while for the medicine to kick in enough for the light to stop hurting, but eventually you’re able to stand. You can’t remember the latter half of last night, your last memory being Sanji slamming his head into the counter while Robin and Zoro held you back from running to him. Zoro had supplied you with another drink then, and Robin had asked you more probing questions, but you could not for the life of you remember any other specifics. You make your way to Chopper’s infirmary so lost in thought you didn’t notice the mischievous looks in the eyes of your crewmates, the way their gazes subtly followed you as you walked.

“Chopper?” Your voice is still a little hoarse from having cried your heart out last night. You slip through the door, expecting to find your dear doctor ready to fuss over you and scold you for overdoing it last night. Instead you find Sanji face first in a bed, a small bandage wrapped around his head. Before you can ask if he’s alright, or if he knows where Chopper is, you hear it.

Click.

Your eyes widen. Your hand reaches for the doorknob, ready to turn it, and you find it doesn’t budge.

“What the fuck?”

Sanji groans again, slowly and carefully sitting up, before looking over at you. “What are you doing here, darling?” He looks at your hand, up at your expression, then back down to the doorknob. “Why…why is the doorknob backwards?”

Instead of the lock being where it should be, you find the keyhole on the inside of the door. There’s slight scratches around the nails holding it and place, and you realize someone has turned it around. There’s a quiet murmur of voices on the other side of the door, which turns to a yelp when you punch the wood. “What the hell is this?”

“We’re helping!” Nami’s voice rings out confidently from the other side, and you hear a few noises of agreement.

“With what, exactly?” You have a horrible sinking feeling you know exactly what they’re going to say, but you try to push it out of your mind, channeling the relentless optimism of your captain.

“We’re tired of you two being idiots!” Zoro’s voice is annoyed and unfriendly, but after a moment it slightly softens. “Just…talk to each other. Like people. For once in your lives.”

You don’t know why, but something about that makes Sanji’s brow twitch in annoyance. “Let us out, mosshead! I knew you were awful but I can’t believe you’d trap a lady!”

“It wasn’t my goddamn idea! Blame Nami!”

Sanji pauses in his yelling at that, but shockingly enough, he still seems upset instead of instantly kowtowing. He frowns, forehead wrinkling, but doesn’t say anything else.

“We aren’t letting you out until you’ve talked. We’re gonna go so you have privacy, but if you break out we’re putting you right back in, so don’t even think about just kicking down the door!” Nami’s voice is firm and commanding, and you find your shoulders slumping, knowing there’s no real point in fighting her. You’re both hungover, exhausted, and not in any state to continue the conflict. You sigh, making your way to a cot next to Sanji’s. You throw yourself down, the slight bounce you make on landing making you far more nauseous than it had any right to.

“Do you know what they want us to talk about?” Sanji sounds almost nervous, which surprises you. Does he know?

“I…have an idea. Do you?”

“I might.”

You both shift awkwardly in the silence that follows. You fidget with your hands, curling in tighter, anxiety eating at you. This is it. This is the rejection you’ve been waiting for. The final blow to shatter your fragile hopes, to crush your remaining optimism and the wonderful future you’ve allowed yourself to keep dreaming of.

“What do you see in him?” Sanji’s voice is quiet and seeping with vulnerability. His eyes are closed, as though he’s scared to even look at you and get your answer.

“What do I see in who?”

“In that stupid swordsman. Why do you care about him?”

“What?” You blink owlishly.

He finally looks up at you. He blinks back. “What do you mean, what?”

“Why are you talking to me like I’m dating Zoro?”

“Are you…not? Trying to do that?”

“No! God no! I’m–” You barely hold yourself back from saying trying to date you. “I’m not into Zoro like that. Did you think I was?”

“I–um. No?” His dour look turns sheepish, a small bit of red painting his cheeks. Adorable.

“God, Sanji. Zoro is not my type.” You both sit for a moment, before you realize something. “Were you upset because you thought I was into him?”

“He isn’t good enough for you.” He says it so matter-of-fact, like it’s an obvious truth. “No one is, but especially not him. You deserve the best, and nothing less.”

Your heart flutters a little, that little thing with feathers worming its way back into you, but you suddenly see Nami’s face in your mind and you crush it. To dream and watch it die is far worse than never dreaming at all. “That’s sweet, Sanji. But you shouldn’t say things like that. You might give someone the wrong idea.”

His head cocks to the side. “What do you mean, wrong idea? You do deserve the best. No one in the world deserves it more than you.”

“What about Nami?”

“What about Nami?”

“Does she not deserve the best? More than I do? More than anyone? Your sweet Nami-swan?” You fail to keep the bitterness out of your tone in that. Not bitterness towards her, of course, or even towards Sanji, really, just a sour taste in your mouth you can’t quite shake.

His brow furrows, lips downturned. “Well she deserves the best too, of course, but why would she deserve it more? Why wouldn’t you deserve everything you want?”

You let out a frustrated growl. “That’s what I want to know! Why not me?” You slam your hand over your mouth. God, he knows, and now he’s going to reject you, so sweetly and kindly, like he does everything, and it’s going to shatter you into a million pieces. You squeeze your eyes shut like blocking out the sight of him will undo what you’ve just done.

You don’t hear him reject you. You don’t even hear him move. You only feel warm hands on your cheeks, and you open your eyes to see Sanji right in front of you, nose to nose, and you can see reflected in his eyes something you might dare to call hope.

“Do you want it to be you?” You hear a longing in his words, see it in his eyes. You have never known Sanji as a man to want, to desire more than what he’s freely given, but in this moment it truly almost seems like he wants you.

You slowly take your hand off of your mouth. Your voice is meek, mouselike, but you force it out anyway. “Would that be okay? If I did?”

“Oh angel, it would be more than okay.” He slides impossibly closer, thighs on either side of yours, torsos pressed together, surrounding you wholly. “It is you. It has always been you. It will always be you. Is that okay?”

You want to answer him in words, something articulate that would move his heart, but instead you let out a soft squeak of surprise before grabbing his cheeks and pulling his lips to yours. They’re chapped, the dehydration from the hangover still plaguing him. He has morning breath. His movements are uncoordinated, unsteady. His goatee scratches your chin. When he opens his mouth, welcoming you further, he tastes like cigarettes and a hint of shitty beer. 

It’s the best kiss you’ve ever had.

You end up on your back, Sanji’s weight holding you down, comforting and all-consuming. His hands rest on your hips as yours tangle in his hair. You only pull back when the demand for air is too much, and even then you consider ignoring the scream of your lungs. You both pull back, chests heaving, and Sanji buries his face in your neck.

“I never thought I’d actually get to do this.” He buries his nose further into your neck, his arms sliding underneath you to pull you into a tight embrace.

“Neither did I. I kept telling myself to stop dreaming about things I couldn’t have.”

“You’ve had me from the moment I laid eyes on you.”

“You’ve had me for just as long.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything?”

You take a strained breath. “I was…I don’t deserve you. And I thought you knew that. And that you were in love with Nami. That didn’t help.”

He pulls back to look you in the eyes, his gaze boring into you. “You thought you didn’t deserve me?” He sounds absolutely baffled at the idea.

“You’re kind, talented, strong, handsome…you’re everything, Sanji. You deserve everything you want. And I didn’t think you wanted me.”

He blinks at you for a moment, before a small chuckle forces its way out of him. “That’s…that’s so ridiculous I genuinely don’t even know where to start.”

He kisses your forehead. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, and everything I’m ever going to want.”

He kisses your cheeks. “I have wanted you from the moment we met, and I will want you until the day I die.”

He kisses the tip of your nose. “I have never met anyone more deserving of the world than you. And I’m not going to let anyone say otherwise. Even you. So there.”

You lean up to kiss his forehead in turn. “Well there’s nothing in this world I want more than you. Can I really have you?”

He takes one of your hands and places it over his rapidly beating heart. “You feel that? It’s all yours.” He lifts your other hand and kisses it in a deeply princely gesture that fits him perfectly.

Before you can reciprocate, the door slams open, and you hear Zoro’s disgruntled voice call out. “They’re making out! Can we be done with this now?”

Sanji whips around with even more vitriol than he usually reserves for the swordsman. “Piss off, mosshead. Can’t you see we’re busy?” The quick movement makes him sway slightly, and you’re forced to remember how horribly you’re both doing physically. If he picks a fight with Zoro right now he might end up puking all over his shoes.

“Ignore him, Sanji. We need to get some rest anyway.” You pull his face into your chest, which he gladly collapses fully into. When you run your fingers through his hair, he’s practically purring.

“Anything you say, my love.” His content smile grows wider when he hears your heart quicken at the words. Neither of you say anything else as your friends crowd the room, with their finallys and about times. Nothing in the world matters more than this right now: the feeling of each other’s warmth, the softness of each other’s skin, and the feeling of relief in both of your chests that your hopes were finally allowed to thrive.