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theunquenchablethirst · 4 years

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Joyride (Jerome X Reader)

Smut, NSFW, 18+, porn without plot, honestly just hot, nasty filth

Do not read unless you are a deviant!

Reader is walking home down a street she knows just like the back of her hand, but today there's an unfamiliar car parked up. Paying it no mind she continues past it, but soon discovers today is not going to be any regular day when a sinister voice calls to her from the mysterious car behind her.

Vaginal fingering, blowjobs, rough sex, semi-public sex, car sex, bondage, chocking, spanking, dom/sub undertones, dub-con, strong language, murder, kidnap

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

Masterlist

I walked that street nearly every day, to and from Gotham High. I had for years. This would be my last year as I was 18 and about to graduate.

Everything seemed as normal as ever. The pretzel cart, the lady that walked her little dog, the kids playing jump rope. A fairly quiet street. I didn't know it then, but that day would be anything, but normal.

I was approaching the end of the street where I would cross the road. There was a car parked up I hadn't seen before. Big, black with tinted windows. I didn't pay it much attention and wasn't hesitant to carry on my walk past it. I reached the end of the street and stood waiting for the traffic to quiet so I could cross over, then behind me I heard the familiar sound of a car window winding down.

"Hey, princess." A sinister voice called.

I turned to look and peering out of the black car window was him. The most dangerous, most wanted man in Gotham city. Jerome Valeska.

I'd only seen him on the news and in papers before, but even then, he had scared me. He'd brought the city to its knees and left a trail of bodies and madness wherever he went. And now he was right in front of me.

"Can I give you a ride?" He asked with his signature smile plastered on his scarred face, voice dripping with menace.

I froze still. I wanted to run as fast as I could, but his stare glued me to my spot.

"Come on, doll. I'll be nice."

I took a step back, weighing the risk of making a run for it. He sucked his teeth and looked down for something.

"I'd offer you candy, but uh..." He pulled a gun up to the window and pointed it at me.

"... Something tells me I won't need to." His smile somehow grew bigger as he locked his eyes on mine.

My heart was beating so loud I thought the whole city would be able to hear it. I had no choice. Knees weak, I nervously walked around to the passenger side door and opened it. I sat in the seat next to him, but pressed myself as close to the window as I could. I wanted to be as far away from him as possible, even if it was only by a few inches.

"Ah, safety first. Seatbelt." He said dropping his smile and cocking his head.

Not caring weather or not he was joking, I pulled down the belt and buckled myself in. I did not want to make him angry. He grinned eerily and panic rose in my chest as his eyes burned holes in me.

He reached a gloved hand out to my face. I flinched as he brushed a stray lock of hair behind my ear and stroked his knuckles down my jaw line and neck. His hand moved lower still down my arm, only stopping when he got to my shaking hand. I was grasping my bag so tightly my knuckles had turned white. He tugged at it a few times wanting me to let go. I released the bag and he pulled it off my lap and into his.

"Let's see what we got here."

He started to rummage through my possessions pulling each one out, mostly dubbing them boring and dumping them out of the window.

"Pain killers, boring. Pencil case, extra boring. Ooh, Jolly Ranchers! Don't mind if I do!"

He popped a sweet in his mouth, threw the rest over his shoulder into the back seat and got back to snooping.

"Keys, boring. Oh! A diary! I'll save that for later! A can of mace...."

He paused then let out a loud cackle as he held the mace.

"Oh, princess! Bet you wish you'd switched this out for a gun right about now!" He continued to giggle as he dived a hand back in.

"Aha! Phone!" He dropped my bag back in my lap and opened up my flip phone.

"You won't be needing this." He smirked and snapped it, letting the two halves fall and disappear under the driver's seat. Dread began to settle in as it dawned upon me that I now had no way to call for help and my mace was lying in the street. Not that it would've been much use against him anyway.

"Ok! Let's get this party started!" His giggled as he turned the key in the ignition. He turned towards me and revved the engine.

"Vroom, vroom." He mocked.

I sat there clutching my bag, waiting for the car to start moving. He fiddled with the gear stick and then slammed his foot down on the pedal as if there was a deadly bug that needed to be squashed. The tyres screeched like they were taking a layer of tarmac with them and he took off like a boy racer.

I let out a scream as the sudden, fast pace sent a shockwave right through me. I sent my hands searching for something, anything to hold on to. There was a turn coming up, but I noticed it too late and I was flung into the side of the door like a ragdoll. All the time the loudest noise in my ear was maniacal laughter coming from Jerome in driver's seat. He was driving like he stole it, but then again, it was entirely possible he did.

"More?" He looked at me with a mischievously.

I shook my head, breathlessly, praying to any god that was listening that he actually cared about my answer.

"I think more." He sharply turned into an empty car park and spun around and around and around. I was pressed right up against him as I clung to the bottom of my seat. He laughed and banged his hand on the wheel, continuing to spin us around.

"You stupid son of a bitch!" I screamed forgetting myself.

"Oh, I love 'em with fire!" He laughed again.

Then all of a sudden, he stopped. I jolted forwards like a crash dummy so hard I thought I would hit the windshield. He'd been right about the seatbelt. I stared straight ahead and tried to catch my breath, when I heard angry shouting. An employee of the restaurant that owned the car park was making his way over to us with a red face.

Jerome stuck his head out of the window.

"What's that, pal?"

I heard more shouting.

"Ok." Jerome reached for the gun and shot the employee straight in the head. I gasped at the sound and he fell down like a sack of bricks.

"Problem solved." Jerome grinned and pocketed the gun.

I felt my stomach turn. I'd just seen a murder right in front of me. That poor man. Jerome started the car again and left the car park, where he'd left a dead body and certainly tyre tracks.

"Some fun, eh kid?" He smiled at me. I couldn't find any words to reply. He sighed.

"I hate awkward silences." He reached down and turned on the radio. He flicked through a few channels until he found one playing music he seemed to like. An old rock station.

"Now this is better!" He looked at me with a satisfied smile, but dropped it when I still didn't reply.

"How do I get you to talk? Do I gotta drop a quarter in ya?" He turned another corner onto a straight, quiet road.

"I know." He smirked with a menacing look in his eyes.

He pushed the pedal down, once again picking up speed. He was driving like there was money on it, but I'd at least managed to brace myself this time. He slowed a little as he got in place to drive side by side with the only other car on the road. He chuckled darkly to himself and then I realized why. Fear took my senses when I saw in the not too far distance, heading straight at us was a giant truck. The driver in the car next to us began to honk the horn and flash obscene hand gestures as the truck grew closer, but Jerome simply turned the radio up and began singing along with the words.

"Jerome..." I said tugging at his arm.

Nothing. And the truck was now honking at us to move.

"Jerome!"

The truck was too close for comfort. The sense that I was about to be flattened because of the idiot at the wheel filled my body.

"Jerome, move the damn car!" I shook his arm fiercely and slammed my fists in my chair.

He finally burst out cackling maniacally with an outrageous smile.

He slammed down the pedal and pulled forward in front of the car beside us, missing the truck by a hair. He laughed and howled like it was the funniest thing he'd ever experienced, whilst I sighed the biggest sigh of my life and slid low down my seat. He pulled over and parked.

"Nothing like a little near-death experience to get the blood flowing, eh doll?"

I had melted into my seat and wasn't really paying attention.

"So, how'd you like me so far?"

"Is that a serious question?" I replied breathlessly. I didn't know where I got the confidence for it, but the words were coming out.

He just giggled.

"Ok, how about I behave... For a while."

"How about you let me go?"

He lifted a long finger at me.

"Tut tut, doll face. Don't make me wiggle my finger at you."

I shuffled backwards in my seat, propping myself upright again.

"So, you know my name? Are you stalking me?" He put his hand on his chest in mock fear.

"Everyone in Gotham knows your name. You're Jerome Valeska. You've terrorised the city and murdered dozens of people. The Gotham Gazette makes sure we don't miss these things."

"The Gotham Gazette, huh? Note to self, send a gift basket their way." He chuckled to himself then looked at me.

“So, what’s yours?”

I told him my name. I was reluctant, but I was already here in the car with him.

“Hm, cute.” He replied.

I didn’t know why, but him calling me cute made me blush a little. I hoped he didn’t notice.

“You look fun.” He smiled.

“What do you mean?” I asked the question, but I wasn’t sure I really wanted to know the answer.

He pulled my diary out of the door pocket.

“Let’s get to know you, shall we?”

“That’s private.” I said sheepishly. I really didn’t want him reading what was in there, but I knew I couldn’t stop him.

“Not anymore.” Jerome flicked through the pages, skimming them for interesting thoughts and secrets. It didn’t look like he was finding anything juicy, until he stopped at one page and read it in its entirety.

“I got asked out by a guy in my maths class. He’s nice, but really boring. Just like everyone else in my life. Even if I wanted to go out with him, my dad wouldn’t allow it. He says men are the devil and the only one I can trust is him. Yeah right, Mr it’s 5’oclock somewhere. Even if I took that seriously, he doesn’t have anything to worry about. The only guys in my life are complete clichés. So very predictable, so very dull. I’m so bored of this same old-same old. I want something exciting, an adventure. I need some thrills in this beige goddamn existence!”

He repeated back to me the words I had written just a week prior. He turned to me with a predatory look in his eyes. He let the diary fall from his hands carelessly and I knew then that I would be his prey. He took his gloves off and reached a hand towards my knee. He stroked and squeezed my leg and then journeyed up higher, fingers crawling underneath the hem of my skirt.

“Be careful what you wish for, doll face.” He smirked, darkly.

My breath caught in my chest and I felt a warmth in my core.

"I thought you said you were gonna behave." I peeped.

"I did, didn't I? I guess I lied."

He pulled my skirt up and ran a finger along my panty covered slit. He was turning me on. I wanted him. He was everything I had been looking for, but it was wrong. I couldn’t give in to this.

"Please... Stop..." I pleaded pathetically.

"Mmm, I don't think I will."

He softly rubbed my folds through the white cotton. My breath got heavier and I felt the heath build.

"It would be so easy for me to push these little things out of the way and slide my fingers inside you, right now. Wouldn't it?"

"Please... Don't..."

He giggled darkly.

"Oh, princess. You're just too cute."

He smiled as he moved the material to the side exposing my entrance. He slid his fingers up and down my slit, my juices covering the tips. I squirmed at his touch and tried to scooch back in my seat.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, doll, but you wouldn't be this wet if you didn't really want me inside you." He cooed. His words crashed into me like rocks. He could read my body just as well as my diary. I couldn't hide my desire from him and I didn’t want too.

He continued to rub for a few more seconds before plunging a finger deep inside me. I let out a gasp at the sudden intrusion and he smirked, seemingly satisfied with my response. He worked me with his finger, pulling out before sliding it back in and deciding to add another. He slowly pulsed his fingers inside me, palming over my clit as he slid in and out, again and again. The swell of warmth in me grew as I rocked my hips.

He pulled his fingers out entirely, leaving me disappointed and empty. I looked at him as he examined the juices coating him. He smiled at me and raised them to his mouth, sucking them clean.

"Mmm. You're so sweet." He said as he lowered them, his voice now deeper and slightly raspy.

He unbuckled his seatbelt, then did mine. He pushed the bag off my lap down to where my feet were and reached his arm around my waist, pulling me backwards, closer to him. He leaned me against him as one hand travelled up from my waist and wrapped around my throat. His other came down, pulled up my skirt and parted my thighs. He pushed my panties to the side once again and introduced his other hand to my wetness. His two fingers sliding in and out, but this time a little faster and much deeper. I let a yelp escape my mouth and his hand squeezed harder around my throat. His hot breath in the crook of my neck gave me goosebumps and sent chills down my spine.

He explored my walls entirely, hitting all the right spots, hot pleasure pulsing through my muscles as they clenched around his talented digits. He palmed my clit applying a gentle amount of pressure and rubbing in circles. I bit my lip in an attempt muffle my moans.

"Nuh uh. Let me hear you, baby girl." He taunted in my ear.

Two fingers from the hand around my throat pulled my mouth open and played with my tongue.

"You got something to say, princess?" He pushed his fingers deeper into me until his knuckles stopped him from going any further and pumped them, his thumb circling my clit in sweet slow motions. A loud moan escaped my throat and he smiled evilly.

"That's better." He snarled as he put his full hand back around my throat.

My legs started to stiffen and I felt my climax build as I tightened around his fingers.

"You wanna cum, baby?"

He worked his fingers inside my walls and his thumb on my clit, slightly increasing the pressure. His breath came closer to my ear and I felt him take it gently in his teeth. I yelped at the shock of his bite.

"Mm. So cute."

I rocked my hips against his hand. My release was close, it just needed a little push.

"Cum for me, princess. Cum on my fingers."

As if on his command, the dam burst and my climax washed over me. My legs shook and I moaned as I rode it out. He pulled his fingers out of me slid them in my mouth so I could taste my own juices.

“See, gorgeous. I can play nice.” He buried his face in my hair and took in my scent. He hummed to himself and I felt his grip on my throat tighten. He pulled me forwards and pushed me towards the back seat.

“My turn.” He grinned as he sat up.

I climbed into the back, closely followed by Jerome. I sat down and he straddled me, towering over me with his red hair brushing against the car ceiling. I saw the outline of his hard member pushing against the inside of his trousers. It was right in front of my face and my mouth watered for it. I suppose he caught me looking because he started to palm himself and lifted my chin up so I was looking at him.

“Do you have something sweet for me?” He leaned down closer to me, his grip on my face tightening.

I swallowed and felt the lump in my throat. He crashed his lips onto mine. The kiss was hard and forceful, just like he was. His tongue pushed into my mouth and fought for dominance over mine. It was an easy win for him. He tasted sweet, like the Jolly Ranchers. I assumed that wasn’t the first candy he’d eaten that day. He pulled away from me and smiled, studying my face with hooded eyes.

“Yummy.” He whispered.

He rose back up and unbuckled his belt. He pulled it from out of its loops, held it in front of him and snapped it quickly. I flinched at the loud sound of the leather.

“Hands.” He ordered in a serious, intimidating tone that aroused me all the more.

I held my hands up to him and he looped the belt in and around my wrists, tightly bonding them together.

“No hands for this. I wanna see how that pretty little mouth works.” He smirked lifting my chin again, tugging my bottom lip with his thumb.

He palmed himself a little more and then unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers, letting them fall around his knees. I could see through his boxers that he was fully erect already. He slid them down and they joined his trousers. Jerome was big. I was worried I wasn’t going to be able to take it all, especially without the use of my hands. He balled my hair in his hand and gripped hard. I gasped at the sudden pain.

“Come on, princess. You know what to do.” He pulled me forwards and plunged into my open mouth. He let out a hiss of pleasure.

He raked his free hand through my loose hair before clenching it in his fist. He used his grip on my head to move me up and down his shaft, prompting me to start. I swirled my tongue around him and started sucking. He hissed again through gritted teeth and pushed in further. My tongue climbed up and down his shaft, licking the sticky coating of precum from him and teasing the head. I hollowed my cheeks and bobbed up and down, letting my saliva cover him.

“Oh, yeah... Fuck, pretty girl.” He groaned in his throat and bucked his hips forwards with force.

He hit the back of my throat and I gagged. The noise seemed to please him so he did it again and again and again. My lips touched his base as he assaulted my throat, gripping tighter on my hair with each thrust. I looked up at him, tears streaming down my face and eyes begging for breath, but it just pushed him further.

He let out a primal growl and pushed my head right into the back of the seat. He held me steady and started to thrust into my face fast and hard. My throat was aching and my jaw was locking. His breath was shallow and erratic. I could tell he was close. I sucked harder for him and my throat clenched tightly.

“Fuuuuck...” He groaned finally coming to a stop.

I felt him throb and twitch in my mouth as his climax shot straight down my throat for me to swallow. He was still for a few seconds, then he pulled out with a pleasing pop. He looked down at me catching his breath with a smile.

“Don’t have to tell you twice, huh?” He laughed and lowered his head to kiss me.

He didn’t seem to care he’d just cum in my mouth and kissed just as rough as the first time. This time biting my lip as he pulled away. He slid his hand back up into my hair and balled it again.

“As great as that was princess, I’m still harder than Chinese algebra. So...” Jerome climbed off my lap and shoved me down onto my front.

“All fours.” He commanded.

I positioned myself on my knees and elbows, which was difficult considering my wrists were tied. I felt him roll my skirt up and part my legs. I swallowed. After having him go so rough on my mouth, I was nervous about how he was going to be with this.

“I gotta say, this is some view back here. Shame I don’t have a camera.” He said caressing my thighs.

He hooked his fingers under the band of my underwear and slid them down around my knees. I felt so exposed and my face started to heat up and turn red with embarrassment. I couldn’t believe I was allowing myself to be this vulnerable for a criminal lunatic.

He started to rub my entrance with two fingers. Warmth welling in my core, any thoughts of reservation vanished from my mind. I felt a fast, harsh sting as he brought a hand down to spank me. I gasped at the smack and he stroked the spot where it landed, where there was sure to be a red handprint.

“Now I really wish I had a camera.” He giggled darkly.

I squirmed at his touch and tried to close my thighs, desperate for friction, but he kept them spread by sliding his knee between them.

“Oh no, gorgeous. I need you open wide.” He smirked.

I whimpered needily, wanting nothing more than to take him inside me.

“You want something, baby girl? Speak up.” He taunted evilly, sliding his fingers along my slit. He raised his hand back up and then... another spank.

All I could do was whimper. I didn’t want to say what I wanted from him.

“I can’t hear you....” He sing-songed. “What do you want?”

He circled a finger over my clit teasingly. He was purposefully not giving me enough. Just baiting me. He brought his hand down again for another swift spank. I was sure there was a bruise forming.

“I want you...” I whispered.

“What’s that?” He mocked, sliding his fingers in the slickness of my entrance.

“I want you! I want you to fuck me!” I snapped. I couldn’t take the teasing and taunting any longer. I just needed him.

He chuckled menacingly.

“You want me to fuck you? You wanna take me?”

“Yes! Yes! God, yes!”

He laughed at my neediness. I felt pathetic.

“Sure thing, doll.”

He lined himself up so he could enter me and pushed forwards, grasping hard onto my hips. I moaned loudly as he filled me for the first time, making a low, throaty groan. He reached deep into me and set me on fire in places that I didn't even know were there.

He kept a quick rough pace, digging his fingertips into my flesh tighter to keep me still and steady. I knew he was leaving marks, but I couldn’t have cared in the slightest in that moment. His thrusts made me whine and whimper for him, to have more of him. He growled like he was letting out some kind of inner beast.

He let go of one of my hips and slid his hand up my back and into my hair. Once he had a good fistful, he pulled it like a leash, tugging my head up and back. I gasped at the sharp pain, but the sound only seemed to feed more into his sadistic wanting and he pounded harder into me. The feel of how deep he was inside me banished all the pain and replaced it with pure pleasure and I bit down hard on my lip to stifle wanton cries. I felt another rough tug on my hair.

“Don’t you dare, little girl. Let me hear it. I wanna hear everything.” He demanded through short, quick breaths.

He pulled back on my hair again and I released a squeal of half pain and half pure elation. I could feel myself tightening around him. I was getting ready to burst.

“I... I’m...I’m gonna...” I panted.

“Oh, no you fucking don’t.”

He gripped the back of my scalp and pulled me backwards, slamming me down onto my back and climbing on top of me.

“I wanna see it this time.”

He had acted so fast, I barely had time to register what he was doing and he was back inside me almost as soon as he had pulled out.

He buried his head in the crook of my neck, sucking and kissing, his teeth leaving delicious hickeys and bitemarks. When he came back up for breath, he wrapped his hand around my throat and pushed my bonded arms above my head, which I was grateful for as they were getting squashed between us. He crashed his lips onto mine for a rough kiss. His tongue demanded entrance to my mouth, which I gladly allowed.

With his other hand he caressed and stroked his hand down my thigh and under my calf. He then pulled it up and pushed it back so far it almost reached my shoulder. He adjusted himself to straddle my lower thigh and picked up a faster, harder pace. With my leg like this he was able to plunge deeper. He was forceful and powerful and I relished in every thrust. I cried out completely taken by my lust for him, closing my eyes to savour it all. I felt the sting of a slap on my cheek and flashed them back open.

“Right here, princess. Eyes right here.” He said, his voice low and raspy.

His pupils were completely dilated, leaving only the thinnest ring of green around them. He seemed to be an apex predator that was in the midst of ravaging its prey and I was only too willing to be led to the slaughter.

“Exciting enough for ya, sweetheart?” He smirked with a fiendish giggle.

“Uh huh...” I nodded dazedly.

His laugh continued through the onslaught of fierce, deep thrusts pounding intensely into my lower regions. I tensed around his pulsing erection as I felt my climax creep back up on me. I let out loud erotic moans, as he built up more and more of that blissful warmth in my core.

“That’s right. Cum for me.” He grunted through gritted teeth, tightening his grip on my throat.

His pounding got faster and rougher, hitting my sweet spots exactly right. I was right on the edge of what I could tell was going to be a fantastic release. I got louder and louder as I came closer and teetered the brink.

“Yeah.. I... I’m.. Yeah... I’m gonna...”

“Go on, princess. Cum. Cum for me.”

My orgasm shattered through me like a rock through glass. My body convulsed as my moans turned into lustful screams. The ferocity of it was unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. The sheer ecstasy took me higher than I’d ever been before. I was on a cloud and I could have stayed there forever. Jerome followed shortly after, growling like a beast as he exploded inside me. He collapsed breathlessly on top of me as I gently floated down from that little piece of heaven.

“Oh, baby girl. I’m keeping you!” Jerome dropped a kiss on my lips and lifted himself up.

I came to my senses and started to register the severity of what I had done. Or had it happened to me?

“What does that mean?” I asked, nervous of his answer.

He pulled up his underwear and trousers and tidied himself up, even taking time to straighten his tie.

“It means, baby doll, that this is gonna be the start of a beautiful friendship.”

He laughed his signature maniacal cackle and hopped back in the driver's seat.

“Hey! Are you gonna untie me?” I called to him starting to get very worried.

“I don’t know, doll. I kinda like you like that.” He laughed.

He turned the key in the ignition and revved the engine.

“Hold on, doll!” He cackled again, before speeding off again.

What have I gotten myself into?

#Gotham #Jerome Valeska #Jerome X Reader #horrible nasty smut #Gotham smut #Jerome Smut #Valeska smut #quite lemony #jerome x reader smut #jerome valeska smut #jerome valeska x reader #jerome valeska x reader smut #gotham smut

1K notes · View notes

teddy06writes · 4 years

Note

Can I request a Sapnap x Karl x Quakity x Y/N ? I just like polyam ships and your Sapnap x Karl x Y/n just made me want more

Ee hee, thanks for the request

Sapnap x karl x reader x quackity (THE PEOPLE ARE ENABLING MEEEE)

trigger warnings: swearing, panic attack

premise: you and your boyfriends are out shopping/ trying to get kicked out of a target when you run into your asshole ex, when he starts to bother you your boys take care of it

(y/n/n)- your nick name

(also we’re pretending covid isn’t a thing)

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“(y/n)! We are gods!”

You turned at Alex’s call, snorting upon seeing he and Karl T posing while standing in the target cart, Nick balanced on the front, also t posing.

You laughed at your boyfriends, quickly taking a picture before Karl started to wobble and fall, “You guys are ridiculous.”

“Yup!” Karl grinned as Alex helped him out of the cart to avoid falling.

You shook your head, quietly putting the picture onto your twitter with the caption, ‘look at these nerds <3′

“You guys are gonna die from idiocy some day.”

“Not when your there to save us.” Nick countered, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“If anything they’ll get dragged down with us.” Alex scoffed.

“Tragically,” You muttered, “Did we actually come here to do anything but solicit?”

Karl giggled, “Well I thought we were just terrorizing the people of Target.”

“The only thing we actually needed was more notecards.” Nick reminded helpfully.

You smiled, “At least one of you is useful.”

“Hey!” Alex protested, “We’re useful too!”

“Sometimes.” Karl giggled again.

“Betrayal!” He gasped dramatically as Karl threw his arms around his shoulders.

You rolled your eyes, “Well, if your useful too then, help me find notecards.”

Alex sighed dramatically, grabbing one your your hands and intertwining your fingers, “If we must.”

Karl grinned, hopping back to sit in the cart, “Lets go then!”

Nick rolled his eyes, muttering something about being ridiculous, before moving to the push the cart, you and Alex moving along beside them.

A half hour later found many random unnecessary but still necessary items piled into the cart around Karl, and note cards had still not been found.

You were hallway through the seasonal section when you sighed, “Alright this is taking too long, I’m going to actually get the note cards, I think they’re just down there, try not to break anything.”

Karl chuckled, “No promises.”

You smiled and headed out of the isle, towards office supplies.

“Well, well, well, (y/n), fancy seeing you here.”

You froze in the middle of grabbing the biggest package of notecards, trying to keep your hand still as you turned, “John,,, uh hi?”

Now, John wasn’t the worst person, no your relationship wasn’t necessarily bad, but towards the end it definitely took a turn for the worse. When you’d first brought up breaking things off he was, less than thrilled, leaving the last few weeks of your relationship a battle field of screaming matches that consisted of little more than his yells.

“It’s been a while.” He smiled.

“Uhh, yeah, it has been.” You began to fidget with your fingers, eyes darting back up the isle towards where you’d left Nick, Alex and Karl.

“Let me guess, still single?” He laughed, “Yeah it would make sense, I’ve only pulled like one person since you.”

You glanced down, “Uhh, no actually.”

John frowned, letting acid drip into his voice, “Oh, I guess the were right when they said you always moved on fast.”

“It- it- it- it’s been a year and a half?” Your attempts to keep your voce steady began to fail, “And, I’ve only been dating one of them for a few months.”

-It was true, Alex had been the last one to join your relationship a few months ago-

His eyes narrowed, “You’re not telling me you’re still on the stupid polyamory thing are you?”

You cleared your throat uncertainly, “um, y- yeah, I have three boyfriends.”

He rolled his eyes, “There's no chance you’d ever fucking pull three people. Hell you barley even managed me.”

Your gaze stayed trained on the tile floor, unspeaking.

“It’s clear you haven’t moved past fucking your way into a relationship.”

You bit your lip, tears welling in your eyes as your breathing quickened, deep down you knew it wasn’t true, as a group you all respected Karl’s asexuality, even once, over some late night conversation of cuddles and lazily traded kisses, going so far as to promise that the relationship would remain entirely romantic if it made him more comfortable, and it had.

Still, there was a nagging in the back of your head, telling you that John was right. There obviously was only one reason they kept you around.

“That really is a shame,” You felt his hand rest on your shoulder, “I know I would stay with you for more than that.”

“Get your fucking hand off of them or I will rip your arm off and beat you to death with it!”

You were simultaneously relieved and flooded with more anxiety upon hearing Nick’s voice.

“Who are you?” John asked skeptically.

“Their boyfriends, who the fuck are you?” Alex spit.

He laughed, dry and harsh, “So you’re the fucking idols who thought you could get away with dating (y/n), not that I care their very-”

“No, you shut the fuck up!” Nick cut him off before he could say anything else advancing up the isle towards him, “Why the fuck are you bothering them?!”

They continued a back and forth exchange, as you slowly slid down to the floor, nails pressing tightly into your palms, breathing far too fast.

“Hey, hey, (y/n/n), (y/n/n) look at me.”

You opened eyes that you didn’t realize had been screwed shut to see Karl kneeling sitting In front of you, looking worried.

“Can I touch you or no darlin?” He asked softly, almost making you forget the yelling happening only a few feet away.

You bit your lip, quickly shaking your head, the tiny seed of doubt John had planted in your mind starting to grow.

“Okay, that’s fine. Can you breath with me? In for seven, hold for 4 out for 8, yeah?”

After a moment of trying to breath in sync with him, you held out a hand, and understanding Karl took it, moving to pull you into his arms, “In for 7, out for 8, just like me alright?”

You all but melted into his touch, doing your best to breath normally again.

“Get the fuck outta here man!” Alex yelled.

“You’re gonna regret this.” John sneered.

“No,” Nick said firmly, “Your gonna regret messing with our partner if you don’t fucking leave.”

After you heard footsteps hurrying away you felt Alex settle on your other side, “You alright baby?”

“Their starting to breath normally again.” Karl reported, running a hand through your hair.

Nick sat down on Karl’s other side, and you all stayed sat on the floor of the offices supply isle, Alex sending death glares to anyone who tried to ask you to move.

Eventually you sat up, sniffing.

“Who was that?” Nick asked softly.

“My ex.” You murmured.

“Why was he bothering you? What did he say?”

“Stupid stuff,” You muttered, rubbing at your eyes, “C’n we go home now?”

“Of course Darlin.” Karl assured, standing up and turning to help you up.

Later, back at the apartment, after everything had been put away, you all ended up in a cuddle plie on the couch, and that seed of doubt was beginning to shrivel with every pass Nick’s hands made through your hair, every small circle Alex absently traced into your palm and every tiny joke Karl made about the movie playing.

“Guys?” You asked softly.

“Yeah?” Alex asked.

“I love you.”

Karl grinned, “We love you too.”

Alex pressed a kiss to your knuckles in understanding and Nick hummed in response.

The tiny seed of doubt was gone.

#mcyt x reader #mcyt imagines #karl jacobs x reader #quackity x reader #quackity imagines #sapnap x reader #sapnap x karl x quackity x reader #sapnap x karl x reader x quackity #karlnapity #karlnapity x reader #poly #teddy06 writes #sapnap x Quackity x Karl x reader

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the-iceni-bitch · 4 years

Text

Sweeter Than This

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!spy!Reader

Words: Mobile again ☹️

Summary: You almost miss your first Valentine’s Day with Bucky, but you have a plan to make it up to him.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex(f receiving), salad tossing, unprotected anal sex, use of butt plug), violence (standard canon stuff), SMUT, 18+ ONLY!!!!

A/N: Happy V-Day y’all! Here’s the next entry in my Holidays With Bucky series (with so Sam sprinkled in) and it’s a fun one! Unfortunately, the power is out at my place right now due to snow and because my city sucks at preparations I’m probably not going to have power until at least Monday, so we’ll see if I’m able to deliver on my other promised Valentine’s treats for you all.

Check out my masterlist and join my taglist if you want!

Bucky hated clubs so much.

The loud music, the overcrowding, the overpriced drinks. He was absolutely miserable.

It didn’t help that Sam was bouncing around like an idiot, enjoying the atmosphere with a stupid grin on his face. Would it kill the man to act like a professional for once?

They’d followed the target to the Cross Club here in Prague after four days of surveillance with nothing to show for it, and now they were watching him talk to some new player in a VIP booth. God he hoped this would be over soon.

“What?” Buck shouted over the music. Sam had said something, but even with his super soldier hearing, he couldn’t make it out over the thumping bass.

“I said, is Y/N pissed you’re missing Valentines Day?” Sam yelled, his hips still moving in time to the music.

Bucky did some quick mental math and cursed under his breath. He hadn’t seen you in almost 3 weeks. You had to head back to the States for some stupid debrief with Sharon and the big bosses while he and Sam kept chasing leads on Zemo here in Europe. He hadn’t even realized it was Valentines Day.

“Shit, he’s moving.” Sam said, tapping Buck on the shoulder as the mark stood up and moved towards the dance floor.

“Fuck, can’t we go around?” Bucky whined, starting to follow after Sam towards the crowd.

“Y’know, when your girlfriend’s not around, you’re such an old man.” Sam teased. “We don’t wanna lose him, so pull the stick out of your ass and try to look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

Buck just rolled his eyes and trailed after him, doing his best to avoid the writhing, sweaty bodies that kept trying to grind against him. Sam was right, it was a lot easier to enjoy these types of ops when you were with him.

He didn’t know how they managed to keep eyes on the target as he moved through the crowd, but they saw him head out one of the exits and were following after him within a few minutes.

“Hey, Wilson? Where the fuck is he?” Buck hissed as he opened the door to an empty alley.

“Shit, hold on, let me pull up Redwing.”

“I still can’t believe you named that fucking thing.” Buck said exasperatedly.

Sam didn’t have a chance to reply before a motorcycle ripped past the two of them.

“Was that him?” Bucky yelled as he whipped his head after it. “Motherfucker!”

“Calm down, I got it.” Sam said, summoning his wings.

“Oh, I guess I’ll just run after him then? I told you we should’ve brought a car!”

“I could carry you.” Sam said teasingly, giving Bucky a stupid grin.

“Oh fuck you.” Buck said, flipping Sam off as he chuckled at him. “Shit!”

The two of them dove out of the way as a Lexus tore into the alley, stopping just short of hitting them.

“Hey assholes! Happy Valentine’s Day!!!” You shouted as you rolled down the window, a massive grin splitting your face.

“Baby!? What’re you doing here?!?” Bucky asked, beaming back at you.

“I had to get the fuck out of D.C. There was no way I’d miss our first Valentine’s Day! Besides, I missed the field! Now get in, I managed to tag his bike but I don’t want him to get out of range.”

“Shotgun!” Sam called with a grin on his face, making you laugh.

“What?!? Fuck you Wilson! You’re gonna make me sit in the back when this is the first time I’ve seen my girl in weeks?” Bucky said in disbelief.

“Sorry Barnes, you should’ve called it!”

“Yeah babe, you really should’ve called it.” You teased as he crawled into the back of the vehicle with a scowl.

“I can’t believe you’re taking his side.” He pouted at you as Sam climbed after him, bringing the back of his seat up to crash against Buck’s knees.

“There’s no sides, honey, it’s shotgun rules.” You said as you peeled out of the alleyway.

“Whatever, could you move your seat up Wilson?”

“Nope.” Sam said grinning over his shoulder before cursing under his breath and bracing one hand against the ceiling as you swerved around a slow moving van. “Jesus, Y/N! Maybe take it a little slower, we’re still in the city.”

You just snorted before taking a sharp turn at an inadvisable speed, barely tapping on the brakes and sending Bucky sliding across the backseat.

“Put your seatbelts on, idiots.” You scolded as the two of them tried to find something to grab onto.

“Honey, pedestrian, pedestrian, Pedestrian!!!” Buck screamed as he buckled himself in, screwing his eyes closed.

“Yeah, I see them.” You said as you took another turn at the last second, barely missing the man who was crossing the street.

“Oh my god! This is how I’m going to die.” Sam said, his knuckles white on the dashboard as you flew up a hill, the car actually suspending in midair for a beat before crashing back to the street with a jolt. “Stuck in a car with a crazy woman and her 100 year old boyfriend.”

“You’re so fucking dramatic.” You said with an eye roll, glancing at him sideways. “It’s like you’ve never been in a high speed chase before.”

“Eyes on the road!” Bucky shouted at you as an unsuspecting couple started to step off the curb directly into your path.

You hopped onto the walkway behind them to avoid the brake lights in front of you and your two passengers started letting out a steady stream of curses as you weaved between pedestrians and carts.

“Just relax you two, we’ve almost got him.” You said exasperatedly, somehow speeding up even more.

You rounded another corner and the bike popped into view, speeding out of the city at a breakneck speed.

“Shit, gun!” Sam screamed as the biker turned around, hefting an AK-47 and pointing it directly at the windshield.

He and Bucky ducked, hands covering their heads. They flinched as they heard a series of pops, then straightened up slowly when they realized the windshield was still intact.

“Yeah, it’s bulletproof.” You said with a grin as you kept the car steady with one hand, reaching under your seat to grab something. You handed a giant pistol to Sam. “There should be a rifle under the backseat, baby.”

“And what exactly do you want us to do with these?” Sam asked warily as Bucky drew out the rifle and nodded appreciatively.

“Shoot at him.” You said, following the bike around a sharp turn that had the boys bracing themselves.

“Fuck that! If you think I’m sticking half my body out of a window while you’re driving like this you’re insane!” Sam said in disbelief. “Besides the car is bulletproof.

“Yeah, well the tires aren’t, and if he hits one of those while I’m driving this fast, we’re all gonna get shredded.”

Bucky shook his head before rolling down his window and pulling his upper body out of the car, bringing the rifle up to return fire.

“You are both fucking crazy!” Sam said, rolling his own window down and shoving his shoulders out, bringing up his pistol.

The biker turned his focus to Bucky while Sam covered him, and you took the opportunity to speed up.

“What’re you doing, babe?” Bucky shouted into the car as you started to get closer to the bike.

“I’m gonna ram him.” You yelled back. “Keep covering me!”

“Umm, isn’t he supposed to lead us to Zemo? Shit!” Sam yelled, a bullet whizzing by his ear.

“I don’t think he’s leading us anywhere Sammy.”

“Well, we could still get information out of him!”

“Yeah, these guys have proven to be pretty impervious to interrogations, Wilson.” Buck said, gripping the roof of the car with his vibranium hand as you followed the bike around another curve.

“I really just need his phone!” You yelled as you closed the distance even further, now only 25 feet from the back tire of the bike. “You might want to get back inside.”

Sam yanked his upper body back into the vehicle with a curse and Buck slid back inside easily as you pressed the gas pedal to the floor. You hit the bike in a few seconds and sent it and the rider rolling over the car with a thud. As soon as it was clear you slammed on the brakes, sending the vehicle spinning out.

“Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod....” Sam was screaming as the car whipped around over and over, his eyes screwed shut and his hand braced against the roof of the vehicle while his foot braced against the dashboard.

Bucky just clenched his jaw and ripped his vibranium fingers through the back door to hold himself in place, shaking his head at Wilson.

The vehicle finally came to a stop about 200 feet away from where the bike had crashed. Sam wrenched his door open and dove out of the car, bending over and vomiting at the side of the road.

“You ok there Sammy?” You asked, rising from the driver’s seat gracefully and looking at your friend with concern as Bucky almost climbed over the front seat with a wince and joined you.

“Oh, what are you wearing?” He groaned as he finally got a good look at you. “Are you trying to kill me?”

It was a skin tight, patent leather pink dress that was pushing your tits together and up in an absolutely delicious way. The skirt barely covered your ass and he was sure there was no way you could bend over in it without flashing whoever was nearby.

“I told you, baby, it’s Valentines Day.” You sad with a grin as you stepped closer to him.

He moved to wrap his arms around you but you stepped away at the last second, moving back towards where the bike crashed with a light laugh as he let out a frustrated huff.

“What is wrong with you two?!” Sam said as he started to follow after you. “Your girlfriend almost kills me and all you want to do is jump her as soon as it’s over.”

“I mean, did you see that dress?” Bucky said teasingly as he joined your friend, walking a little faster to catch up with you.

“Got the phone!!” You said triumphantly as you straightened back up from your inspection of the dead body. “And it’s still in ok shape! I’m gonna call this in real quick and then we can head back.”

“No! I’m not going anywhere if you’re driving!” Sam said, shaking his head vehemently. “Gimme the keys.”

“C’mon Sammy!” You said with an eye roll.

“You do not get to call me Sammy right now, you psycho!” He said, snatching the keys out of your outstretched hand as you laughed at him. “And neither of you gets to sit shotgun! You sit in the back and think about what you’ve done.”

“Jesus, fine dad.” You said as you slid into the back seat, Bucky chuckling as he slid in after you and slammed the door closed.

Sam pulled the car forward a few feet, turning the wheel sharply before throwing it in reverse and spinning it in the opposite direction as he backed up.

“Uh, Sammy?” You said as he repeated the process. “Maybe just crank the wheel all the way and pull a little further forward?”

“Yeah, it’s not called a 13 point turn, Wilson.”

“Both of you shut the fuck up!! I’m not taking driving advice from you!” He shouted over his shoulder as he did the exact same thing and you lost it, laughing hysterically.

“Oh my god, there’s like 15 feet of road that you’re not using!” You said breathlessly as you cracked up Bucky grinning as he watched you fold over in laughter.

“I cannot believe the shit I have to put up with.” He muttered as he finally straightened out the vehicle and drove back towards the city, doing his best to ignore your dying laughter.

Bucky was beaming at you as you settled down, leaning back against the seat as you wiped tears from your eyes. You smiled back at him and gave him a wink.

“Did I tell you how much I love that dress?” He said as he scooted closer to you, his eyes raking over your chest before sinking lower to gaze at your thighs.

“No.” You said teasingly, biting your lip at him and leaning towards him just a little bit.

“Cuz I fucking love that dress.” He growled at you as he wrapped his hands around your waist and drew you closer, nuzzling himself into your neck.

You gave a soft sigh as he ran his teeth over your throat, flinging one leg over his lap as he moved his vibranium hand from your waist to cup your ass. He moved his mouth up to the hinge of your jaw as he pressed you into him.

“Shit, Bucky.” You moaned as he pulled you onto his lap, his hands running over your thighs to tuck under your skirt as he sucked a bruise against your neck. “I swear to god, if you ruin this dress...”

“Oh, what the fuck guys?!” Sam said as he peeked at you through the rear view mirror. “I’m two feet away from you! It’s like you’re a couple of teenagers.”

“Sorry Sammy!” You whined before letting out a gasp as Bucky nuzzled himself between your tits at the same time he bucked his hips up into you, grinding his hardening cock against you.

“Oh, I do not get paid enough for this shit.” Sam groaned as he pulled the car into the parking lot of the hotel and jolted it to a halt. “I cannot believe I have to put up with you horny idiots.”

“Bye Sam!” You called after him as he slammed the door closed, waving a dismissive hand at you as he started to head back to his room. “Mmm, Bucky!”

He drew the straps of your dress down over your arms and wrapped his lips around one of your nipples as you arched your back into his face.

“Jesus Christ, I fucking missed you.” He groaned before moving his mouth up to yours, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth as he laid you down across the backseat.

“Yeah? What’d you miss baby?” You murmured against his lips, wrapping your legs around him and ripping his shirt over his head.

“Missed the way you smell.” He murmured against your neck as he nuzzled into your hair. “Missed these fucking perfect tits and how well they fit in my hands.” He whispered into your ear as he brought his hands up to palm your breasts, making you whine.

“Fuck, baby. You’re making me so wet.” You said breathlessly as a fresh rush of arousal leaked out of you, your fingers moving to work at undoing his fly.

“Good.” He growled against your collarbone as his he dipped one hand under your ass and pressed you into his hard on. “Cuz I missed that pussy the fucking most.”

“Shit.” You hissed as his vibranium hand ripped off your panties in one quick motion before his hands moved to shove your dress up around your waist. “Don’t you dare fucking rip this dress, Barnes!”

“I’m being careful.” He said with a chuckle before lining himself up. He teased his tip against your entrance before slowly sinking into you, grinning as he watched your eyes roll back in your skull as your lids fluttered, a moan escaping from your lips.

He drew himself out halfway, really taking his time as he felt himself drag against every inch of the warm channel between your legs, then slammed his hips forward with enough force that you had to brace your hand against the door to keep your head from cracking against it. You had to bite your lip to keep from screaming as you came immediately, your back arching up off the seat as your pussy spasmed and fluttered around his cock.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you miss me too?” Bucky said with a grin as he kept fucking into you, watching your chest heave as you started to come down from your first orgasm. He hooked one hand under your knee and drew it up to your waist, spreading you apart even further.

“Shit, yes!” You moaned as his dick thrust even deeper into you, hitting a new spot that had you seeing stars. “Missed this cock so fucking much.”

“Yeah? You miss feeling me in this tight little pussy?” He said as he felt you clench around him, your hips meeting his thrusts desperately.

“Fuck, Bucky! My pussy needs you so bad. Need your big cock inside me all the time.” You let out a gasp as he brought his vibranium hand between the two of you to strum at your clit. You wrapped your hand around his wrist to keep him in place as you tossed your head back. “Need to feel you stretch me and split me open, baby.”

“Jesus, keep talking.” He murmured as he collapsed on top of you, burying his face in your neck as he started moving his hips even faster. “Love hearing you use that filthy mouth of yours.”

“Yeah, babe? You wanna hear me talk about how much this pussy needs your big cock?” Your grinned when he let out a groan against your neck. “My pussy would get so fucking wet every time I thought about that dick. Nobody fucks me like you do. Oh god, right there!”

“Damn, honey. You’re squeezing me so good. You gonna cum again?”

You just nodded before a sob ripped through your chest, your knuckles turning white as your grip on his vibranium wrist tightening and a wave a pleasure crashed over you. Your legs squeezed his hips as you thumped your fist against the door, your torso rolling underneath Bucky as your cunt clamped down on him, making him twitch.

You felt his hips stuttering as you writhed underneath him, and with just a few thrusts he was filling you up, panting against your neck as he sank on top of you, pressing his full weight into you as he came down.

“Oh my god, happy fucking Valentine’s Day.” He moaned into your hair.

“Shit, I still need to give you your present, baby!!” You said with a grin as you ran your hands over his shoulders.

“I don’t need a present, sweetheart.” He said lazily before peppering soft kisses over your throat.

“Oh, I really think you’re gonna want to open this one.” You sighed, wriggling a little underneath him.

You grabbed his flesh hand and drew it between your legs slowly, dragging it over your sex until his fingers brushed against the jewel that was nestled between your ass cheeks. He sat up with a jolt when he realized what you were suggesting, making you laugh excitedly as he gave you a massive grin.

“Oh my god, Y/N, I’ve been waiting for this.” He said as he flipped you over, smacking your ass as you giggled at him. He spread your cheeks apart and groaned when he got a look at the pink jewel of the plug you had inserted earlier in the day.

He gripped the plug and drew it out of you slowly, biting his lower lip as he watched you pussy clench at the sensation. His breath came out in a hiss once it was free, your pretty hole gaping and fluttering at the loss as you moaned underneath him, pressing your ass back into his palms.

“Fuck, I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

He didn’t give you a chance to respond before he was yanking your hips back and up, tossing your thighs over his shoulders. You let out a shriek when he ran his tongue over your cunt in a heavy stripe before dragging the flat of the thick muscle over your asshole.

“Fuck, oh my god!” You screamed, trying to find something to brace yourself against as he ran the tip of his tongue around your rim, teasing you and making both of your holes throb with need.

He kept teasing you with his tongue for what felt like hours, alternating between heavy drags that ran over your entire sex and tiny kitten licks that were turning you into a begging, whimpering mess, a steady stream of slick leaking out of your swollen pussy.

“Gotta make sure you’re good and ready for me, gorgeous.” He murmured, giving you a momentary reprieve before he shoved his tongue inside your puckered hole.

The sound you made was otherworldly, halfway between a moan and a cry. He almost came just from the pure wantonness of it, and he felt his cock twitching against your chest as he started to tongue-fuck you. You pressed your cheek to the leather of the seat as he took you apart, mewling like an idiot as he stretched you open, his thick muscle probing you as deep as he could.

“Bucky...” you mumbled before another orgasm shook you, your cunt fluttering around nothing as a wave of bliss traveled up your spine from deep in your core and making you whine as drool leaked from the corner of your mouth.

He pulled his face away from you suddenly and unwrapped his arms from around your thighs. Your muscles were jelly as he lowered your hips, your eyelids drooping as you moaned at the loss of him. Once he finally had you laid back down, he took a second to gaze at you.

He loved how fucked out you got. Your limbs were splayed out at random angles as your back rose and fell with deep breaths, the curves of your breasts just peeking out from where they were pressed against the seat. He brushed your hair away from your face to see you grinning up at him, your cheeks streaked with tears and mascara and your lipstick smeared all over your mouth and chin as you looked at him with lust blown pupils.

“We’re still not done.” He said softly before wrapping his hand around your throat and yanking you up until your back was flush against his chest, making you gasp. He brought his other hand between you to wrap around his cock and dragged it through the slick that had soaked your ruined pussy before teasing his tip against the rim of your tightest hole. “I think you’re ready for me.”

He didn’t wait for you to answer before shoving his hips forward and spearing into you. Your body tried to jolt forward at the intrusion but his palm on your throat kept you in place, holding you still as he bottomed out.

“Jesus Christ, you feel amazing.” He muttered into your hair, his fingers vibrating over your throat as you let out a whine.

He pressed down against your jugular as he started to move his hips, dragging in and out of you at a deliciously slow pace that had you keening. You were losing yourself in the new sensation of having him fill your tightest channel, his thick cock stretching you more than you’d ever been before. Your head dropped back on his shoulder as he started to move faster, the slick leaking from your pussy making it easier for him to slide in and out of you.

“Fuck, I love your body. You treat me so good baby.” He murmured against the shell of your ear. “Wanna fill all your your pretty holes and pump you full of my cum. Wish I could be inside you all the time, pretty girl.”

Your pussy was fluttering around nothing as his soft praises filled your ears, and when he dropped his hand to the apex of your thighs you almost came immediately with a cry.

“You didn’t think I forgot about this pretty pussy, did you baby?” He whispered as his metal fingers spread you apart, teasing over your entrance as his flesh hand increased the pressure on your airway and his hips picked up the pace. “You want me to fuck you with my fingers while my cock’s in your ass, honey?”

“Fuck, Bucky, I want you to spank it.” You moaned as he continued to tease you, your brain starting to shut down as the mixture of sensations overwhelmed you.

He let out a feral growl against the curve of your neck before wrapping his lips around your earlobe. “Shit, you gonna cum if I spank it?” He hissed in your ear as he kept his fingers running over your sex.

“Yeah, I’m gonna fucking cum! Need you to spank my pussy, Bucky, please.”

His teeth nipped at the hollow behind your ear at the same time he smacked your cunt and you let out a shriek as your body vibrated against him. Your thighs quivered with strain as your pussy spasmed uncontrollably, your asshole strangling Bucky’s cock as you shook in your bliss, his hand around your neck the only thing keeping you upright.

“Fuuuuck.” He hissed against your neck as his hips chased his own release. “I wanna fuck all your holes while I cum, sweetheart, get ready.”

You only had a second before he was shoving three fingers into your pussy at the same time he put two fingers in your mouth, choking you as he shoved them down your throat before you were able to relax. He groaned when you started sucking on him, swirling your tongue around his digits while his vibranium fingers curled inside of you against that sweet spot that made your eyes roll back in your skull.

He felt you clench around him everywhere and let out a groan into your hair, his cock twitching inside you as you both neared your ends.

He ground his palm against your clit and you were finished, sobbing around his fingers as you squirted your release all over his hands, his thighs, and the seat in what was the biggest orgasm of your life. Your body tried to lift itself off the seat as you came, your vision whiting out as your muscles stopped working and Bucky let you collapse forward as he finished.

Another few thrusts of his stuttering hips and he let out a wordless roar as he came inside you, filling you completely with his spend until it was leaking out around his cock. He collapsed on top of you as his body rolled on a wave of pleasure, his breath hitching in his chest.

The two of you laid there tangled with each other for what felt like hours. You were so utterly spent that the passage of time no longer held any meaning, and you completely forgot where you were.

“Holy fuck.” Bucky muttered after a while, still unable to move anything except his face, which he nuzzled into your hair.

“Yeah.” You muttered into the seat cushions, your brain finally resetting.

“I mean, holy fuck.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Yeah.” You said again, wiggling your toes look experimentally as your body started to come back down.

“I’ve never cum that hard before in my life.” He muttered as he drew his hands over your arms until they were pressing into your shoulders, moving your hair aside so he could pepper kisses all over your neck.

“Me either.” You whispered, turning your head over your shoulder so you could press your lips to his softly.

He pulled away once he was able, giving you a sloppy grin as he managed to sit up, pulling out of you gingerly and groaning at the sight of his cum leaking out of you. You twisted until you were able to sit up yourself, leaning back against the car door as you beamed back at him.

“Best fucking Valentine’s Day ever.” He muttered, drawing you onto his lap to kiss you deeply, and wondering if it would be too tacky to tell you he loved you after the first time you let him fuck your ass.

Tags!!!!!

@buckysnumberonegirl @slothspaghettiwrites @captain-asguard @starlightcrystalline @harrysthiccthighss @quxxnxfhxll @bonkywobble @chrisevanscardigan @chubbybuckydumpling @StanAllStarks @blackestpinkworld @fistmebuckyskywalker @wandering-spiritash @khadineberry @muzzyandbusy @slytheriin2002 @isysen @WanderingAlice00 @kaleeelizabeth58 @tlcwrites @angrybirdcr @unsaltedalmonds @amerikakapitanyy @lizette50 @daughterofthenight117 @obsessivereaderchick @drabblewithfrannybarnes @stargazingfangirl18 @jack-skellingtons-stuff @chrissquares @msmarvelwrites

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catwithangerissues · 4 years

Text

Haikyuu Polyship hc’s!

♚ Hey hey hey! Welcome to a little collab that @tetsurocking and I have been working on for a few weeks now! Like two but still. We each chose three different couples and wrote headcanons about a poly relationship with them!

♚ My three!: Suna x Osamu x Reader! Tendo x Ushijima x Reader! And Futakuchi x Shirabu x Reader!

♚ Make sure to check out the three couples J wrote about over on her page! I promise you’ll find some stuff ya like😉 ‘I think about polyships too much for a monogamous bitch’ -J 😂 Anyways, enjoy!

♚ Warnings: Should be none! Although I reference high school in the past, everyone involved is aged up!

Suna x Osamu x Reader Poly!

✧ When you guys were in high school, Rinta would always send you videos of Osamu and him at practice; sometimes they were videos of the twins fighting, some were of them doing little tricks with the ball to get your praise, and some were just of them waving/saying they missed you

✧ They tend to spam your little group chat with memes while you’re at work or school, and sometimes they just spam you for attention <3

✧ They both really like it when you wear their clothing. Sometimes they get pouty if you wear one shirt or the other, but they never genuinely mind. In addition to this, they basically share a wardrobe. Is that Suna’s shirt or Samu’s? They don’t even know 🤷🏻‍♀️

✧ Suna probably sends you two pictures of the ugliest things he sees in a day and and puts a caption like « haha that’s you two. » that’s it. He probably doesn’t even bother to put a period at the end (Thanks for this one, Alma!)

✧ Suna takes tons of pictures with/of the two of you, and he changes his lockscreen background pretty often because of it. His favorite pictures are the ones he takes without you two noticing, hehehe

✧ These two are both really great drivers and they’re very smug about it. Food for thought 😌

✧ When you’re grocery shopping, they probably start eating what’s in the cart before you’re even out of the store.

✧ In addition to grocery shopping, don’t even TRY to tell Osamu one brand of a certain ingredient or food is better than another, he will throw a Miya Twin hissy fit™️ lmao

✧ They both keep extras of anything any of you may need in their cars. Period stuff if you’re someone who has one, hygiene products like deodorant and an extra shirt for Suna after practice, snacks for Osamu cause the poor boy always wants to eat in the car, etc.

✧ They both like to tease, but in reality they’re big softies for you. Want cuddles? Rinta is always flopping down on top of you once you sit on the couch. Need a back or shoulder massage? You don’t even have to ask Osamu at this point, he does it subconsciously.

✧ Suna prefers dates at home, lounging around and cuddled up, movie nights, dinner dates, etc. Osamu prefers lazy errand days. Going grocery shopping, cleaning the house together, dropping something off to Atsumu or grabbing lunch on the way home, he enjoys the domesticity of life with the two of you.

✧ DOING THEIR HAIR. Styling Suna’s hair for him in the morning or helping Osamu touch up his color before he goes back to brown.

✧ Holiday decorating, birthdays, and anniversaries are always fun with these two. To others, they’re relatively reserved, with a few sarcastic comments to spare *cough cough* we all know who I mean- But to you, they’re rambunctious and sweet. Making stupid jokes to see you laugh, babying you, all the like.

✧ Someone picking on you or getting a little too friendly? No need to worry, your two tall ass, intimidating boyfriends have your back. Suna is more of the- glare daggers at them until they get the hint- kinda person, but Osamu is definitely the- throw my arm around my partner and tell the other person to back off- one.

✧ Going to Suna’s games with Osamu to support him! Osamu once pretended to be a fan and asked for his autograph, and when Suna just looked him dead in the face and kisses him everyone around lost their minds.

✧ You and Suna visiting Osamu at work and bringing him lunch so he doesn’t have to make it himself! He has pictures of you three in his office too <3

✧ The boys visiting you at work/school saying it’s to playfully embarrass you, but usually it’s something like; bringing you lunch, coming to pick you up for a spontaneous date/adventure after you clock out, or just coming to sit in your office and bug you for a little while to get your mind off of work.

✧ They are both pretty possessive, but aren’t controlling. They just like to hold you, though Suna is the more reserved one of the boys when it comes to pda.

✧ ^That said, they like to show you off- a lot. Showing pictures of you or the other boy to their coworkers and teammates is a favorite of theirs.

✧ Whatever hobbies you’re into, they like to sit and watch you do. Reading, cooking (with Osamu?😌), baking, art, music, video games, etc. They just love to watch you do your craft! You’re so supportive of them and their dreams, the things they love, they try to repay the favor any chance they get.

✧ Suna is definitely one to just sit his head on your lap or shoulder and listen to you talk all day about something you love <3

Tendo x Ushijima x Reader Poly!

✧ Tendo has a massive collection of hoodies and he loves it when you two wear them. It makes him so happy to see you guys in something that’s his, a physical symbol that you two want people to know you’re with him.

✧ Both very affectionate partners, in their own ways. vv

✧ ^Tendo wasn’t very fond of pda at first, more so he wasn’t comfortable with it because he thought you two would be embarrassed to be seen with him. Once he found out you two weren’t embarrassed of him and wanted to show others your relationship, he was all for it! Usually likes to hold your hands or lean on one of you.

✧ ^Ushijima is more subtle with his affection, not because he’s scared or embarrassed, just that he prefers to do it in private. He knows you two know he loves you, so he doesn’t really see the need to be all over you in public. But in private? That man is always hugging you or nuzzling into your shoulder- he’s like a giant teddy bear.

✧ Ushijima loves to do all the domestic shit with you two. Cooking, cleaning the house, running errands. He’s just a sucker for feeling like a lil family with his two cuties.

✧ Tendo loves to plan the dates! Though if you want to, he’ll gladly let you! He likes to plan little day adventures for the three of you, whenever Toshi doesn’t have practice or training!

✧ Tendo likes to have his nails painted by you, and Ushijima likes to watch you two <3

✧ Matching nails with Tendo??? Mhm😌

✧ Protective boyfies! Let’s be honest here, it’s unlikely you’re gonna have too many problems with these two giants standing next to you. But if there ever is one, they definitely scare off whoever is bugging you quickly.

✧ These two are some of the most comforting people on here. They both had their share of not so great things happen to them growing up, Tendo being bullied and Ushijima basically being treated like a brute. The two of them became really good at comforting people, knowing how it feels to not have someone there to comfort you when you needed it.

✧ They’re big on cuddling to begin with, but if you’re ever sad or stressed? Prepare for Tendo making a pillow fort and Ushijima baking your favorite treats. These two are incredibly supportive and comforting when you need them <3

✧ Ushijima once got so fed up with Tendo being a little brat, he threw him onto his shoulder and walked around the house like that for a good half hour. Tendo thought it was hilarious and so did you

✧ Speaking of, he seems to really enjoy carrying the two of you around at random times. Piggyback rides, bridal style, or just like a koala clinging to him, he loves it.

✧ Tendo can sense a mood change in the two of you like it’s nothin. Seriously, the guy just knows when something is bugging either of you.

✧ The boys definitely ask if they can get a pet when you move in together. Tendo has a long list of crazy animals and Ushijima keeps suggesting a hedgehog for some reason.

✧ Regardless of what you decide on, you know these two are going to treat your pet like their baby. They’re going to spoil tf outta that little fella. 100% Tendo takes a million photos of them everyday. Ushijima doesn’t baby talk, he just talks to them normally about random things like volleyball and it’s pretty comical.

✧ Visiting Tendo at his chocolatier shop! He usually has very long days, and gets extremely happy when you two pop in to see him. Please bring this baby some lunch or dinner, he’s not a big eater and often forgets too. He has pictures of the three of you in his office too <3

✧ Watching Ushijima’s games and practices! This boy can’t get enough of the praise you and Tendo offer him! He loves seeing you sport his jersey with his name on the back, and he says seeing you two in the stands at practice or during a game really helps his focus?

✧ If you’re someone who has a period, these two are so sweet and thoughtful to ya. Tendo always makes the best chocolate, and Ushijima is basically a walking heater, he runs you hot baths too! Both handle mood swings very well and always make sure the pain meds are stocked in the house. 10/10 boyfies

✧ Please let Ushijima have as many house plants as he wants. He loves them and names each of them, he’s let you and Tendo name some before too! Catch this big teddy bear talking to his plants while he repots or waters them and your heart will melt </3

Futakuchi x Shirabu x Reader Poly!

✧ Salty, sarcastic, teasy boyfies- if you’re easily flustered, prepare yourself, they are going to use it against you. Calling you nicknames and saying things they know will make you start to stutter at any chance they get. (Lookin at you, Futakuchi) (please don’t think I’m making fun of people with a stutter, I have one myself.)

✧ Very protective, though they may not show it as often as some others do. Someone messing with you? You bet they’re next to you in an instant- offering several sarcastic remarks and a menacing glare from Shirabu, Futakuchi throwing an arm around you and bending down to the creeps level to further the intimidation.

✧ Both very comforting partners, if you’re feeling anxious or upset they’ll gladly take you into a big cuddle pile. Petting your hair or cheek, and telling you all the sweet things they can think of to see you smile.

✧ ^ Shirabu picks up on your insecurities very easily, especially if they’re similar to his own, and helps you learn to cope with and improve your mental health. Futakuchi has a gift for comforting people, always knowing what to say to make you feel 100x better about yourself or anything that’s bugging you <3

✧ Let’s not even get into what they’d say or do to the person if someone hurt your feelings, let alone made you cry. We’ll leave that to your imagination.

✧ Very competitive with each other. They constantly play fight for your attention, making comments about who’s shirt you wore today or who you ate lunch with- but it’s all in good fun.

✧ Futakuchi is a sly bastard, he really loves to fluster and tease tf outta you and Shirabae. For example: When Jirou gets mad at Kenji, Futakuchi just calls him his pretty boy or compliments how cute he looks when he’s angry and Shirabu becomes a complete flustered, stuttering mess.

✧ Going to visit Shirabu at work and/or bring him lunch! He doesn’t like to admit it, but he really does appreciate when you two come to visit and eat with him, especially during long shifts where he doesn’t get to see or talk to you two very much. He always becomes a blushy mess, waving off his coworkers with a glare when they comment on it- or when Futakuchi points it out

✧ Going to watch Futakuchi’s games! He’s very open with his appreciation for the two of you coming to watch his games! Either of you wear an extra jersey of his and it’s game on. He’s mindful to ask if you’re okay with hugs after, since he’s usually pretty sweaty, though.

✧ Of the two of them, Shirabu is the more perceptive one. He can easily pick up on any of the changes in mood the two of you may have, and it makes it easier to solve any issues you may have, rather quickly.

✧ In your relationship, Shirabu also gets frustrated the easiest. Whether it be with himself or the stresses of work and school, he finds himself getting frustrated and overwhelmed rather easily.

✧ You and Futakuchi are masters at calming him down by now, pulling him into a cuddle with lots of affirmation and he feels better in no time, offering to help with his work and take a bit of the load off cheers him up quite a bit too.

✧ Your boys are both very loving and cuddly when sleepy.

✧ Both getting overwhelming soft when you’re being cute, they just start to overload. Whenever you do anything remotely adorable, they can’t help but dote on you. SOFT BOI HOURS

✧ HEAD PATS! That is all. :)

✧ Futakuchi is the type to kiss you hard during an argument while Shirabu is the type to sulk and then come over to you later that night asking to cuddle.

✧ Random hc, but Futakuchi’s car is a fucking mess, I just know it.

✧ Saw this somewhere else, but it fits him! Futakuchi says yes ma’am/sir with a huge shit eating grin.

✧ You three have a good system when it comes to planning dates, taking turns every week or so, although Shirabu tends to prefer slow days/nights at home, given his busy(er) schedule.

✧ Another random hc, but I think Futakuchi has some sort of energy drink addiction and Shirabu is constantly nagging him about cutting it out of his diet because he aggressively cares for that boy.

✧ “Stop drinking that, idiot. It’s bad for you.” “Aww, Jirou~ are you worried about me?” “Shut up,,”

♚ Hope you enjoyed our little collab! Go check out @tetsurocking ’s part on her page! Believe me- it’s good😭 be warned! It does have nsfw content! Mine was gonna but some of you can’t follow rules😤

Taglist: @sunalma @toworuu @lovie-and-co (for your boys😌)

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lavenderbexlatte · 4 years

Text

holding you like this

stray kids 13.4k words female reader insert Reader x DILF!Hwang Hyunjin EXPLICIT/NSFW

🖤 warnings: original characters (adult f and child f), single father, unhealthy family dynamics, relationship insecurity, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal sex, creampie, breeding/impregnation kink 🖤

🚨🚨 the unhealthy family dynamic warning applies to hyunjin and his parents, NOT hyunjin and his child! there are elements of emotional manipulation and emotional neglect of an adult child by his parents. please don’t read if you would find this content triggering!

connect with me! / masterlist

You prepare yourself for a lot of social what-ifs when you go to the grocery store, but a three-year-old almost taking you out with a headbutt to the knee isn’t usually one of them.

On this particular day, you’re standing in the coffee aisle, scanning the rows of beans, trying to pick between a new roast for your French press, or a new flavor for the automatic drip. You’re not having an easy time of it, either. They all look the same to you. And really, is a French vanilla that different from a caramel swirl? Why are some of these so expensive? They’re all just beans, aren’t they?

The coffee dilemma is taking up all of your conscious focus, so you don’t even hear the tiny footsteps clicking against the industrial tile floor. You don’t see the head of bouncing dark hair, barreling toward you. You don’t notice anything until a tiny body slams right into your leg, and little arms wrap around your knees.

You look down in shock, rocking back to steady yourself so that you don’t topple right over. Your phone nearly slips out of your hand, right onto the head of the very small human peering up at you with big round eyes.

It’s a little girl.

She has glitter extensions and a floor-brushing gown, looking royal and in control right down to the tiny Mary Janes on her feet. She doesn’t look confused or perturbed at all, not even bothered by clinging to a stranger like this. Well, that makes one of you.

“Hello,” the little girl says, her voice high but confident. “What’s your name?”

You tell her, and she nods wisely, in a way that looks incredibly bizarre for someone so young.

“Okay. I’m Minnie,” she says.

“Minnie,” your repeat.

The girl nods, her arms still clamped around your knees. “Like the mouse.”

She points at one of the barrettes clipped into her meticulously styled hair. It’s a flat metal cameo pin of Minnie Mouse, smudged with tiny fingerprints as if she touches it often.

“Cool,” you say awkwardly.

You reach down and gently unwind her arm from around you, freeing yourself, and you kneel down so that you’re at her height. She just looks directly at you, and you can feel the judgmental intelligence behind her gaze. It’s kind of scary.

“I’m three and three-quarters,” she tells you proudly.

“Where’s your grown up?” you ask her.

You don’t really think you’d be much help to this child. You certainly don’t want to have to be responsible for her for too long. Where are her parents, or whoever she came here with?

“My grown up?” she mulls it over, “You mean Daddy. He’s lookin’ at juice.”

“Why aren’t you with him?” you ask.

“Ran away,” she shrugs, “If I run, Daddy chases me.”

“Do you think Daddy likes chasing you?” you ask.

You immediately curse yourself inwardly for asking a preschooler a half-sarcastic question like that. You don’t know this kid from Eden, you can’t just mouth off at her. But Minnie is sharp, and she just smiles at you winningly.

“I dunno. Prob’ly not,” she shrugs again, and you marvel at the big attitude in this small person.

“What if he’s worried about you?”

“Then he should find me,” she answers.

And with that, the kid sits down cross-legged on top of your feet, settling her gown neatly around herself. You’re floored. Apparently, you’ve become the shade tree that this kid is gonna sit under until her poor father finds her. Are all little kids this weird?

You’re not sure what to do. If you move, if you take her and go searching, you could spend all day missing her father at every turn. That means you should probably just stay here and wait for her dad to come to you. At least this way you know the kid’s safe and not running around to meet strangers more dangerous than you.

You get back to your coffee dilemma, as Minnie just sits primly on your feet. It’s not like you could walk away without dislodging her, anyway. And as you pick out a package of coarse-ground beans for your French press, you hear it.

“Minnie!”

An exasperated voice, from the end of the aisle. You turn toward the sound, and the person that you see takes your breath away.

It’s a man, tall and slim, long legs in wide-legged denim. His hair is shoulder-length and blonde, the top half of it held back in a small ponytail at the crown of his head. His face is equal parts angry and relieved, dark thick brows furrowing. The guy is incredibly, distractingly beautiful. You kind of can’t believe it.

“Daddy,” Minnie pipes up, as if confirming it to you.

She leans back against your shins like you’re her personal throne. You look down at her, and then back up at the man as he approaches, dragging a half-full shopping cart behind him.

“I am so sorry,” the man is saying, “She has a mind of her own and sometimes-”

“I made a friend!” Minnie interrupts her father.

The man leans down and scoops his daughter off your feet, plunking her into the basket of his shopping cart.

“You’re in jail, princess,” he tells her curtly.

“I’ll get out,” she replies.

You’re sure that your jaw is actually hanging open several inches as the man turns back to you to continue his rambling apology.

“I really am sorry, um…” he pauses.

“(Y/N),” you fill in for him.

“Right. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you dismiss, “She just wanted to talk. And I wanted to make sure she didn’t get lost. More lost.”

The man grins at you sheepishly. “I’m Hyunjin, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you,” you say.

“I like her,” Minnie calls from her shopping-cart jail cell, “She’s funny.”

“That’s a high honor,” Hyunjin tells you soberly.

“I’m glad to finally hear that someone thinks I’m funny,” you say.

Hyunjin laughs. He has a nice laugh, sharper and shriller than you would have thought, but full and honest. He looks just like Minnie when he smiles. You’re thoroughly charmed.

“Well,” you say, tugging yourself back to reality, “I have some more shopping to do, so…”

“We’re friends now!” Minnie announces.

Hyunjin glances at his daughter. “You two are friends now?”

“Yes!” the girl insists.

Hyunjin returns his gaze to you. “I guess you’re friends now. Any chance you’re up to see us again sometime?”

“See you again?” you repeat, nonplussed.

“Just for coffee, maybe. A playdate?” Hyunjin’s grin is teasing.

“Doesn’t she have other friends?” you ask, “Friends who are more…three years old?”

“Oh, sure. but Min is an equal-opportunity befriender,” Hyunjin says, “She likes everyone.”

You really don’t know what to make of this precocious little girl who’s just declared you her new friend and her very indulgent but admittedly very attractive father. You might consider that he was hitting on you, except that he’s clearly just bending to the will of his very willful child, and that he’s way, way, way out of your league.

“Sure,” you say, finally.

“Cool.”

Hyunjin pulls out his phone and offers it to you with the keypad open. You enter your number and call yourself, and you save each other’s data into your phones. ‘Hyunjin (Minnie’s Dad)’ goes in as your newest contact.

“We’ll text you to make plans!” Hyunjin promises, as he wheels his cart away.

“See you later!” Minnie calls.

She waves furiously at you until the two of them round the corner to the left, toward the checkout counters. You’re left standing there with your package of coffee and butterflies in your stomach.

Just like that, you have a new friend.

---------------

When you do eventually get a text from the number saved as ‘Hyunjin (Minnie’s Dad),’ it’s abundantly clear which of the two is doing the texting.

‘hello!!!!!!’ ‘yo u have to wear’ ‘princess dress!!!!!’

It’s a Thursday afternoon, and you’re at work, sat at your desk overlooking the production floor. Your lunch is just about to end, the boys in assembly below are already getting back to it, and you need to make this quick before your next meeting.

Hyunjin must have helped with the spelling, but that is definitely a message direct from Minnie. You’re debating how exactly to respond to this message, when a call comes in, instead. You answer it.

“Hello?”

“Hi!” The voice on the other end is unmistakable.

“Hi, Minnie,” you say patiently.

“Did you get my text?”

“Of course,” you answer.

“Good. Wear your princess dress,” she says decisively. “Talk to Daddy now.”

The phone clatters loudly like it’s been dropped right on the floor, and you hear a shout in the background. You wince at the noise, but keep the phone pressed to your ear until Hyunjin’s voice replaces his daughter’s.

“Hey, sorry,” he says, “She decided that PJ Masks are more important than this phone call that she DEMANDED I make to invite you for coffee on Saturday.”

“Coffee, huh?” you repeat.

“Yeah, if that’s okay,” Hyunjin says.

You can hear real hesitation in his voice, and you’re quick to reassure him, “No, no, I think it’s cute. It’s okay.”

“She just never takes to strangers this fast,” Hyunjin explains, and you can’t quite fathom why that piece of knowledge makes your stomach swoop. “I wanna encourage her to see the world as kind of…safe and fun, y’know? Is that stupid? Like, she shouldn’t just run around with strangers, but she shouldn’t be afraid of the world, either.”

“That makes sense,” you assure him.

“We had a talk about it, I think she understands the difference.”

He’s kind of rambling at you. You wonder how often Hyunjin gets a chance to talk parenting with someone.

“No, really, I understand,” you say, “I’d love to do coffee.”

“Great,” he says, “You can meet us at this café…I’ll send you the address. It’s called Mama Dining.”

You’ve never heard of it, but you trust Minnie’s taste. Hyunjin, you can’t say for sure. But you trust that little girl with more blind conviction than is probably necessary.

“Okay, see you then,” you say.

“Cool.” You can hear Hyunjin’s smile in his voice. “Bye, (Y/N).”

“Bye!” comes Minnie’s voice, far away but loud, and you know that she must be screaming as loud as she can.

You laugh, and you hang up.

--------------- Mama Dining is a small glass-front piece of realty across from a folk medicine shop and underneath a square brick apartment building, a few metro stops away from the area where you live. It’s so stuffed full of potted plants and flowers in vases that there’s barely any surface area for anything else, but it’s clean and bright inside. The tables are mismatched with their chairs, and the whole place smells like coffee and sharp herbs and fresh bread.

It’s homey, that’s the word for it. Cozy, and homey.

You’d taken your pint-sized new friend’s advice to the letter, busting out one of the nice dresses that you save for special occasions. The last time you wore it was to a coworker’s wedding; it’s light and floaty and floral, a long floor-length skirt over a tighter inner slip. It’s the closest thing you have to a princess dress. But it’ll have to do.

You check your reflection in the glass as you pull the door open, bells tinkling above your head. As soon as you step into the café, a little voice shrieks at you.

“YES!”

Minnie is sitting at a table in the corner, in a different gown, her hair in an elaborate braided style, half-up and half-down. She’s looking at you with the utmost approval, and even though she’s a three-year-old, you still feel proud that you’re passing her test.

“A princess dress,” she says, satisfied.

“I tried my best,” you say.

You give a silly little spin on the spot, so that your skirt stands out for her, and behind you, someone laughs. You freeze, cheeks heating up.

“You look nice.”

It’s Hyunjin, because of course it is. You turn around to see him in casual jeans and a long sleeve tee, an apron tied around his waist. His hair is pulled back again, off his face. He’s gorgeous. But it kind of looks like…

“Do you work here?” you ask.

Hyunjin nods. “Easiest place to meet up is here, while I’m on shift. Hope that’s okay.”

“It’s fine,” you assure him.

“I’ll get you a coffee,” he says, “What do you like?”

You tell him your regular order, and he heads to the espresso machine to start it up.

“Oh,” he calls, over the sound of the grinder, “And if Judy comes in while you’re here, I’m sorry in advance.”

Judy? Your stomach does an awkward flip at the idea of him inviting you here if he has a girlfriend, or a wife. You don’t think you’ve seen a wedding ring on him, but…

Oh, well. Nothing you can do, at this point. You’re here for the kid, anyway, aren’t you?

You go over to the table where Minnie has set up camp, propped in a booster seat to reach the tabletop. She has a coloring book and a pack of glitter crayons in front of her, and you pull up the second chair to join her. Minnie stares at you for second, her cute upturned eyes so much like her father’s, and then she opens up her coloring book, flipping the pages as carefully as she can.

When she finds what she wants, she sets the book down and rips the page out. It’s a picture of a teacup and saucer on a table, with a pitcher of flowers behind it.

“This is yours,” she says, with the utmost seriousness.

“Okay,” you say, matching her tone, “Can I use your crayons? I didn’t bring mine.”

You kind of expect a kid as serious and assertive as her to be careful about her possessions, but Minnie just upends the crayon box onto the table.

“Yep,” she says.

She grabs a lilac color and dives right into her own coloring page: a dressing table covered in cosmetics and trinkets. You select a red crayon from the pile and join her, filling in the delicate pattern on your teacup.

You can’t explain why it doesn’t feel like babysitting, but it doesn’t. It feels more like…coexisting. Like this preschooler really is just happy to have your company.

What a weird kid.

Hyunjin comes over after a moment with your coffee. The café is empty aside from you three, so he sits down at the table with you, placing the cup with your drink down beside the precarious pile of crayons.

“Daddy can’t color,” the kid tells you.

“Really?” you ask, looking up at Hyunjin wryly.

Hyunjin raises his hands as if in defeat, “My talents lie in performing arts, not studio arts. Unlike this renaissance child, who can do it all.”

It’s obvious that Hyunjin adores his daughter. You can see it in his eyes as he watches her scrub her crayons across the picture, in the way he talks about her. You’re not around kids a lot, but you can tell that this little girl has a lot of love in her life. That’s probably why she’s so bold; outgoing, kind, and well-adjusted kids are usually well-loved kids.

You smile to yourself as you keep coloring, switching the red for a grey. And after a while, you’re aware of Hyunjin’s watching gaze focused not on his daughter, but on you.

Embarrassed by the attention, you look up and meet his eye. He’s just watching you, with a lopsided smile that shows all of his teeth and crinkly smiling eyes that emphasize the little mole under his bottom eyelid on one side.

“What?” you ask.

He gives himself a little shake.

“Sorry,” he says.

It seems like all he does is apologize to you when he’s done nothing wrong at all.

“I was just thinking, it’s really sweet that you’re here,” he admits.

“Sweet?” you ask.

He tilts his head. “Yeah. How many people do you know who would come across town just to hang out with a little kid?”

You take a sip of the coffee. It’s perfect. Maybe the best you’ve ever had. Is he even real?

“Well, she’s like the coolest person I’ve ever met,” you say, “Regardless of age.”

“Yeah, she is,” Hyunjin says fondly.

“I’m cool,” Minnie agrees.

The doors of the café open softly, and you and Hyunjin turn around simultaneously to see a young couple, maybe college students, seating themselves and talking softly. Hyunjin excuses himself to go help them, and you let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding.

What are you even doing here?

Did you agree to come on this very strange playdate because you were so taken by a strange child that you felt the need to keep a promise you made to her? Or, on some level, did you just want to see Hyunjin again? Neither answer is particularly good. Or sane.

“You and Daddy can be friends, too.”

Your head snaps up when you realize you’d being addressed, and you regard Minnie. “What?”

“You and Daddy can be friends. You’re my friend, but Daddy, too.”

You hum, as if you’re really puzzling it over, when in reality you’re about to collapse from the embarrassment of this child inadvertently setting you up with her dad. Or maybe advertently. You have no idea how smart she actually is.

“How does it look?” you ask instead, holding up your drawing.

Minnie puts down her crayon and scrutinizes your picture as if she’s a museum collections pro scouting for art.

“Do pink flowers,” she says eventually, and she returns to her own drawing with the same intensity.

“Good idea,” you say.

You pick out a rosy pink color and try to will all your nerves about Hyunjin away. He’s just a new friend. The father of you new littlest friend. You can’t make this weird just because he’s good-looking. Hyunjin himself has vanished into the back kitchen, tucked away to prepare something. You can hear a stove going, cutlery clattering.

The café door opens again as you’re idly listening to the sounds of the kitchen. This time, it’s a middle-aged woman with a long black ponytail and a practical, motherly outfit. She greets the young couple cheerfully, and then she sets her eyes on you.

“My Min!” the lady coos, and Minnie looks up from her drawing.

“Hi. I’m coloring.”

“I can see that,” the lady says, coming up closer to lean on the table next to your casually, “And who is this?”

“(Y/N),” Minnie answers.

“I see.”

The woman is smiling, but her eyes are regarding you coolly, as if she’s sizing you up. You just offer her a nervous smile, unsure who this is or why she knows the kid.

Hyunjin emerges from the kitchen then, timing perfect, a plate holding a large grilled sandwich in hand.

“Oh, hey, Judy,” he says, on his way past to give the couple their lunch.

Judy? This is the Judy that he mentioned earlier? Not to be ageist, you think, but she seems too old to be Hyunjin’s partner. But romantic relationship or not, you can understand why he apologized on her behalf; she’s already giving you incredibly intense vibes.

“(Y/N)’s picture goes on the wall with mine, okay, Judy?” Minnie says suddenly.

“Sounds like a plan,” Judy agrees, “Now, is someone going to tell me who this young lady is?”

Moving very quickly and pretending that he’s not, Hyunjin rejoins the three of you over in your corner, setting a comforting hand on Judy’s shoulder. You can’t help but wonder if he’s doing it as a means of subtly holding her back.

“Min made friends with her at the store the other day after one of her famous mad dashes,” Hyunjin says. “And we figured the polite thing to do after that would be to invite her for a cup of coffee.”

“I see,” Judy says.

Her face softens at Hyunjin’s words, even though she’s still looking you over quizzically, like she can’t decide how to feel about you being there.

“Well, welcome,” she says, finally, “I’m Judy. This is my café.”

She extends her hand to shake, and you take it. Her hand is slim and pretty, heavy with a few jeweled rings and slightly roughened on the fingertips from hard work.

“She takes care of us,” Minnie pipes up.

“I try to,” Judy agrees. “They need all the help they can get.”

“I resent that!” Hyunjin says.

“But really, I just use this pretty face to attract customers,” Judy continues, waving a hand at Hyunjin.

He squawks his outrage, and you can’t help the smile that creeps over your face.

“The teens see this face and they come right in. It’s like magic,” Judy says, as if she’s being purposefully oblivious to how much she’s embarrassing him.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you,” you say.

And you mean it, too. Hyunjin obviously has an unconventional support system going on, with this woman who he introduced by her first name and not by her relation to him. It leads you to believe they’re not blood-related or anything. It doesn’t really matter, though. She seems nice, if not a little protective.

“Nice to meet you, too,” Judy says, with such heavy finality that you feel as though you’ve just cleared a hurdle.

And from the way Hyunjin’s whole body perks up at her words, maybe you have. Why do you get the feeling that this was the equivalent of a meeting-the-parents moment?

As quickly as the atmosphere had heightened, it settles back to the lazy calm it was before. Judy pats Minnie’s head fondly and disappears into the back of the café, not to reappear. Hyunjin returns to his work, and you take back up the task of neatly filling in the coloring page, careful not to upstage your tiny host and her not-quite-developed motor skills.

It’s a slow afternoon.

The young couple eats their lunch across the room, adding only a quiet hum of activity to your surroundings. Minnie tells you stories while you work, regaling you with the deep inner workings of preschooler life.

“Their names are Sage and Ginger!” she’s saying happily.

You haven’t been listening closely enough, clearly, because you’re stumped. “Whose names?”

“The babies!”

“What babies?”

“From Blue’s Clues & You,” she huffs.

Oh. You vaguely remember the original Blue’s Clues show, but you can’t say you know exactly what she’s talking about. Is she talking about…the sentient salt and pepper shakers? Do they have babies? Why do they have babies?!

“That’s cool,” you say, with level enthusiasm.

Minnie looks at you flatly, but accepts your words with a nod. “They’re cute. So little!”

It goes on like that, bits of kids’ programming trivia and input on your crayon color choices. The couple leaves, and you can see Hyunjin zeroing back in on you as he lets them out with a wave and a call to come back soon.

“How’s it going?” he asks.

You pick up your drawing, for him to see. You’ve been finished with it for a while now (it’s a children’s coloring book, so it’s not all that intricate) but you don’t want to appear unengaged, so you’ve been going over your lines and blurring out the crayon marks. His eyes crinkle up with joy at the sight of it.

“Done!” Minnie announces.

She brandishes her own drawing, too, and Hyunjin beams at the two of you with equal pride.

“Can I put these up?” he asks.

“Together,” says Minnie.

“You got it.”

He takes both rough-edged pages and whisks them away to the counter. Behind the register, on an expanse of wall, there’s a collection of doodles and coloring pages that you hadn’t noticed when you walked in. They must all be Minnie’s; the bold coloring strokes are all the same, her heavy hand immortalized in wax and marker and glitter pen.

Hyunjin tacks up the pictures side by side on the wall.

It’s the tiniest gesture in the world, really. You can’t even count how many scraps of paper, how many school notebooks and work memos that you’ve scribbled on over the course of your life. You’ve colored kids’ menus at restaurants, done detailed adult coloring books at mixers. Somehow, this one ragged coloring page tacked to the wall of a café seems like a turning point in your life.

You wonder when you got so sentimental. It’s silly, but it’s there; warm happiness in your chest.

When Minnie begins to wilt, saying in not so many words that she’s getting tired, you know that your playdate time is coming to an end. It’s only been an hour and a half, maybe two, but that’s an awful long time to keep such a young kid occupied on one activity. You’re proud of yourself, honestly.

“She’ll go down for a nap soon, before dinner,” Hyunjin tells you softly, “You can head out if you want. I don’t wanna monopolize your day.”

“I think I will,” you agree.

It’s been a nice time, but you’re not one to overstay your welcome.

You say goodbye to Minnie, who insists on giving you another crushing full-body hug, and you make it all the way to the door before you realize Hyunjin is following you.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Walking you out,” he replies.

“I’m just going to my subway stop.”

“Then let me walk you to it,” he says.

You struggle to hold back your smile at his easy grace. “Okay, sure.”

The two of you set out into the afternoon, side by side, for the short walk from this inner part of the neighborhood to the metro stop that will take you back home. The breeze tugs at your skirt and ruffles Hyunjin’s apron, and you can’t help but sneak sidelong peeks at him as you walk.

“I hope Judy didn’t scare you too much,” he says.

“She’s intense. But I can tell that it’s out of love,” you reply.

He laughs at that, and you continue your slow meander down the unlined streets.

“She’s like an adoptive mom to me,” Hyunjin tells you. “I’m lucky to have her.”

“Oh,” you say, curious but knowing that you shouldn’t ask.

The two of you walk a while longer in your quiet bubble, but eventually, Hyunjin sighs.

“I don’t talk to my parents,” he says, “It’s not that crazy. Just how it is.”

“You don’t have to tell me more if you don’t want, I understand.”

“And now I’m oversharing. Sorry,” he winces.

You shake your head, “It’s not a bother, I just won’t pry.”

Hyunjin considers this, and nods. “It’s just me and Min, so Judy’s been a livesaver. Mom and auntie and grandma all in one.”

Just him and Min, which means no wife and no serious girlfriend. That makes you feel a bit better. You’d hate to get in the way of a serious relationship, even indirectly. Minnie is a nice kid, and you like her, but you’re not her nanny or her babysitter or anything. You’d hate to be that kind of person, shoving yourself into a family where you have no business being.

“But…I wanted to know…would you wanna hang out again?” Hyunjin asks.

You laugh gently. “For Min? I’d walk into traffic. Yes, I’ll hang out again.”

“Not with Min,” Hyunjin says, voice soft and hesitant. “With me.”

The word that falls out of your mouth before you can stop it is, “Why?”

Hyunjin snorts, and then breaks out laughing, harder than you’ve ever heard him laugh.

“Because I think you’re cool?” he says eventually. “You’re cute and you like my kid, which is more than I can say about ninety percent of the people I meet.”

This was not part of the plan. Not that you had a plan, but come on. You were here to hang out with a super weird toddler, to entertain a precocious little girl because it’s cute and fun, not to be asked out by her dad. Her gorgeous dad, who’s so out of your league that it makes your head spin.

You spare a thought to wonder if he’s playing a prank on you.

“Unless…” Hyunjin draws away from you (when did he get so close?), “Unless you’re already seeing someone? God, I didn’t even think – I’m sorry, I just-”

“No, you cut in quickly, “No, I’m not-”

“Am I being weird? I’m being weird,” he laughs, and he almost sounds…nervous?

“You’re not being weird,” you assure him, “You just surprised me. I didn’t think…”

“Then you’ll go out with me?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you say, surprising yourself, “Yeah. I will.”

Hyunjin’s smile is the fucking sun coming up. It warms you right down to your toes.

“I’ll call you,” he promises, “I’ll call and we can make plans.”

“Okay,” you agree.

The dimly-glowing sign marking the subway entrance looms ahead, and Hyunjin falls back, as you approach the down escalator.

“I’ll call you!” he says, again.

You wave as you go down the escalator, and once he’s out of sight, you practically melt. You have no idea why life is throwing you this curveball, but you’re not complaining.

---------------

True to form, it’s Minnie who calls you some days later. Not Hyunjin, the adult who presumably has control over the phone and has to dial the call. No, it’s the toddler whose voice filters over the line, the toddler who is undeniably and ultimately in control of her father’s whole world.

“Hi, (Y/N)!”

“Are you supposed to be making calls?” you tease.

“It’s okay, I have a mission,” she tells you.

“A secret mission?”

“Maybe…” Minnie’s voice pulls away from the phone, and you can hear her shout, “Daddy! Is it a secret mission?!”

Hyunjin’s voice calls something in reply, and then Minnie returns.

“Yeah, a secret mission,” she says.

“What’s your mission?”

“We gotta know, do you like Japan food or Italy food better?”

“Hmmm,” you think out loud, “I think I just like food.”

“Me too,” Minnie agrees, “I just like food.”

There’s another shout from Hyunjin that you can’t make out.

“Daddy says it’s gonna be a s’prise, then,” Minnie reports.

“Surprises are fun,” you say.

“It’s okay?” she asks.

“It’s okay,” you confirm.

“Okay! I gotta go. Talk to you later!”

Minnie hangs up, and you burst out laughing so hard that tears pool at the corners of your eyes. She manages to make it sound like she has a high-powered meeting that you’re keeping her from. How does she hide all of that thirty-five-year-old boss energy in her cute little self?

But more important than the absurd circumstance of the call is the outcome. You’re going on a real date. With Hyunjin. You try to pretend that a whole swarm of butterflies haven’t hatched in your gut.

You have a date with Hyunjin.

---------------

The date goes well.

It goes incredibly well, in fact. If you thought Hyunjin was pretty and charming when he was in more domestic setting, with his kid and at his job, that was nothing compared to fully-focused-grownup Hyunjin on a date.

He dresses well, he’s funny and he’s gentle, he nearly cries because the dish you order to share is too spicy for him. He’s got all the puppylike charm of the young man that he is, and this underlying tired seriousness of the doting single father that he is.

You argue with him until he lets you split the bill for the meal, and he gives you a gentle kiss on the lips when he leaves you at your subway stop. It’s like a fairytale.

So you go out again, and again, and again, still. Sometimes it’s barbeque in your neighborhood, at an outdoor restaurant with great side dishes handmade by the older couple who own the place. Sometimes it’s just coffee and a long chat at a 24-hour café. You haven’t been to his home, yet, and he hasn’t been to yours, but it’s refreshing to just take things slowly with him, when the rest of life moves so fast.

Underneath the fun of being with Hyunjin, though, is the doubt.

Everything you see makes you more and more certain that he’s not a real person. He’s a dating sim come to life. He’s so good-looking that teenage girls stop to whisper and giggle about him, and passing aunties give him bold compliments. Dogs like him, service staff like him, little kids like him. And you understand it; you like him tremendously.

You’re not entirely sure why he likes you, though. Compared to him, you’re kind of reserved, kind of plain. It’s not that you don’t like yourself, but you’re a cottage to Hyunjin’s skyscraper, a woodwick candle to his disco ball. Just different realms entirely.

It doesn’t matter, you suppose, because regardless of his motivation or your understanding, you’re spending more and more time with Hyunjin, and Minnie.

You learn that it’s Hyunjin who does her hair every day, creating looks with pins and braids and tiny ponytails. He grew out his own hair to the length it is now to practice on, he tells you one day. You learn that Minnie only likes crunchy vegetables, raw carrots and the stems of lettuce, and that she can inexplicably eat much spicier food that her father can.

You’re comfortable being part of the mundane. But Hyunjin seems to have different aspirations for the two of you, in your casual and fluid relationship, still without titles or formalities.

“I want to take you somewhere nice.”

You glance up from your laptop, blinking to get the fuzziness out of your vision at you look at Hyunjin where he leans over the prep counter. It’s a weekend, but you have a pile of leftover work to get through before Monday, so you’ve set up camp at the café for the afternoon. Hyunjin is on shift, and he’s been slinging you snacks and coffees between customers. It’s been just the two of you, work obligations notwithstanding, and it’s been…domestic.

“This isn’t nice enough?” you quip.

“You know what I mean,” he rolls his eyes, “Like a real date.”

“Oh, so now you’re saying the first half dozen dates weren’t real?”

Hyunjin sticks out his thick lower lip in a pout. “What happened to the shy awkward person I met at the store? Bring her back, please, this (Y/N) is mean to me!”

You laugh. “Where did you want to go?”

“There’s this place I haven’t been to in years. It’s really nice, my aunt used to take us back when family outings were more my thing,” he says.

“Sounds okay,” you decide.

“You’d have to dress up,” he warns, “Like, for real. I’ll have to dig out a suit.”

“That’s fine.”

You turn your attention back to your laptop, trying to hide your flustered face at the idea of Hyunjin cleaning up extra nice for you, Hyunjin in a fitted suit and shined shoes. He might notice it anyway, though, if the smile that lights up his face as he turns back to the kitchen is any hint.

---------------

It’s decided that Hyunjin will pick you up from work and drive the two of you to your first fancy date. So that morning, you hitched a ride with a coworker so as not to strand your car at the office overnight, carrying your change of clothes in a bag. The downside of that was having to explain to your coworker what necessitated the change, and your team quickly found out that you have a date. The teasing hasn’t stopped all day, good-natured ribbing all during your shift, about stoic, shy supervisor (Y/N) going on a hot date with a mystery man.

You stand in front of the full-length mirror in your office’s nice bathroom, the one reserved for visitors who can’t pee with the staff. The one with potpourri on the counters and immaculate tile floors. You’ve gone for a menswear look yourself, wide-legged slacks and a silky blouse, and heels. Hyunjin’s already seen you in a nice dress, you figure, and besides, clinging to the businesswear that you already don at work gives you just a bit more nerve.

Somehow, a date at a nice restaurant that holds some sentimental value for him is more serious than anything you’ve ever done, more intimate than splitting cakes at the café and watching Minnie force the other kids to take turns on the slide at the playground.

You adjust your French tuck just a bit, make sure that your necklace hangs neatly, and deem yourself as good as you’re gonna get. You walk out of the bathroom, bag now holding your work clothes tucked under your arm, only to see a whole group of your production team boys waiting for you.

The company where you work is a decently large tech manufacturing plant, and as a production manager, you oversee a team of techs and assembly workers who tend to be on the younger side, and much more often are young men close to your age. They’re all nice boys who you’re quite close to, but they’ve already been on your case all day. Several of them are right here in the hall, now, ready to make fun of you the way that annoying little brothers are meant to do.

“Jeez, (Y/N), out for blood,” says Taehyun, his silica filter mask hanging off one ear.

“Don’t be gross,” you say, rolling your eyes.

“It’s true, you’re really going all out for this date, huh?” adds Jeongin.

“Quit it before I vom and then report you all to HR,” you say.

“Oh, come on,” says Taehyun, “I’ve worked for you for like two years and I’ve never seen you have fun on purpose before.”

“That can’t be true,” you argue, walking toward the front of the building with your little line of assembly-boy ducklings following behind.

“On your birthday, you asked us to get you a firm handshake and a new set of pages for your planner,” Jeongin deadpans.

“You’re Ron Swanson with tits,” Jaemin says.

“Charming,” you glance at him, and he shrugs.

“It’s true.”

Car headlights shine in the picture windows that span the front of your building, and you can make out a small red car sitting in the visitor’s parking right by the door.

“Please don’t embarrass me,” you implore the boys, as you haul open the heavy glass door to let yourself out.

“We would never do that,” Jeongin says, defensive.

“Maybe we should talk to your date, though,” Jaemin suggests, “Rough him up a little.”

“Yeah, please don’t ever do that,” you say, “I’m leaving now.”

The driver’s side window is rolled down, and you can see Hyunjin leaning out, waving to you. You walk around to the passenger’s side of the car as fast as you can, giving your stupid underlings as little time as possible to ruin things.

You slide into the seat and slam the door behind you right as you hear one of the boys yell, “GET HER HOME SAFE. BY TEN.”

“Oh my God, go, drive away,” you groan.

“Who are they?” Hyunjin asks, amused, as he backs out of the parking spot.

“They work for me,” you say. “They wanna intimidate you, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“They must really like you,” he says.

“No, they just really like being annoying.”

Hyunjin laughs, glancing at you as he maneuvers onto the main road.

“You look really great,” he says, sounding a little bit shy.

“Thanks.”

“The restaurant isn’t far,” Hyunjin says, “But I wanted to look cool and drive you.”

“I already think you’re cool,” you tease.

“Well if you’d told me that before, we could have called a cab,” he says.

“Nah, I wanted to see your car,” you say, turning around in your seat to get a full view of the interior, “Big pink carseat and all.”

“Min’s constantly telling me to just get a pink car to match,” Hyunjin says, “I don’t know if I could pull that off, though.”

“With your good looks and princess hair? I think you could.”

“Good to know. Next car, pink,” he says.

Hyunjin wasn’t lying about the restaurant being close by, because the whole drive is less than fifteen minutes. You’ve barely relaxed when he pulls up to the street parking outside a modest building with a pretty marquee and rough brick siding.

“This is it?” you ask, peeking out at the building.

“Yep.”

You scrutinize the restaurant as two of you get out of the car, and you can tell instantly that it’s an upscale place. Everything from the valet in front to the fabric of the curtains reeks of steaks that cost a paycheck and truffles in every possible dish. You’re kind of excited for it.

The maître-d greets you warmly, and brings you to a table against the window, with a view into a small back garden full of lanterns and lit trellises. The table itself is a delicate wooden thing, with full-course silverware and origami napkins. Candles dance on the tabletop, a single red rose in a vase brightening the whites and silvers of it all.

Hyunjin must know a thing or two about romance, because you’re properly wowed. It’s so stereotypically wonderful, it makes for a great sixth-or-seventh date. You’ve known him long enough that you know he’s not trying to blindly impress you, but just to treat you.

You wonder what kind of family he has, that they would bring him to a place like this as a kid or a teenager.

When the waitress, a pretty young woman in server’s blacks, comes over, the two of you order from the set menu and argue only a little about what dishes to taste and what wine to have.

“They’re barely Brussels sprouts,” you’re saying, “They’re covered in oil and bacon and shit.”

“They’re green vegetables,” he counters.

“They’re gourmet, don’t be a baby.”

Starters come and quickly disappear.

The main course comes, and by this point, you’re a glass or so of wine deep, and Hyunjin is only looking more and more handsome, as your stomach starts to be comfortably filled and the drinks warm you up from the inside.

Hyunjin’s gazing at you between bites of his dinner, expression so soft that you wonder if he’s gonna lean right across the table to kiss you. It’s tender, it’s lovely, and it’s unlike any other date you’ve ever had.

But a woman’s shrill, furious voice shatters the entire atmosphere with a single sharpened word.

“Hyunjin?!”

It’s almost comical, the way Hyunjin freezes with his fork halfway to his mouth, eyes wide and startled. It’s only almost comical, because this emotion seems to be very real fear on his part. He keeps his eyes on his plate, but you look toward the sound.

There’s a woman approaching your table, thin and elegant and beautiful. She’s got only the faintest age lines on her perfectly made-up face, and her clothes are designer, a plum-colored dress that brushes her knees and a handbag worth more than your whole closet. She doesn’t even spare you a glance, zeroing in on Hyunjin as she comes to stand right beside the table, puffed up in self-righteous anger like a provoked bird.

“Hwang Hyunjin!” she barks.

Hyunjin turns his head so slowly that you wonder if he’s even moving at all, until finally he’s looking at her.

“Of all the places – what on EARTH are you doing?!” she asks him, tone stiff and angry.

It’s the kind of tone that you can imagine her using to yell at waitstaff, or berate the hotel bellhop. She’s that kind of wealthy, you can just tell. You’ve been dodging people like this your whole adult life, working your way up in the tech field, littered with its new and old money. You glance at Hyunjin, but the urgency in his face tells you to hold your tongue.

“I’m eating,” he says finally.

“Your aunt told me you were still in the city,” she says, “I can’t IMAGINE what you’ve been up to that you haven’t had time to even call, the nerve-”

“Mother,” Hyunjin says evenly, “You’re interrupting a nice time.

Mother. This is Hyunjin’s mother?

As if she’s just noticed that you’re there, she rounds on you. “And who is this?”

The disgust in her voice makes your stomach twist unpleasantly. It’s been a long while since someone has been so openly dismissive of you. Not since you were a student, you think, but God does it hurt.

“This is my date,” Hyunjin answers.

His words are clipped, like he really doesn’t want to say more.

“Well, obviously,” his mother sniffs, condescending, “What is her NAME?”

“You don’t get to know that,” Hyunjin says.

You know that Hyunjin is distant with his parents. He’s mentioned that they don’t talk anymore, and that they don’t really know his daughter at all. But it speaks volumes that he doesn’t even want his mother to know your name.

“And where did you meet this shining example of gilt wood pretending to be gold?” she asks, “The community center? The food bank?”

“There’s no need to be mean,” Hyunjin says, much more calmly than you would be able to, “We’re trying to have dinner. You should leave.”

“I’ve finished my meal. I’m on my way out,” his mother says haughtily, “But I saw you and I needed to come say something.

“No, don’t let us keep you,” Hyunjin says, gesturing toward the exit with his still-full fork.

“Hyunjin, when are you going to give up this ridiculous act and come back to make things right?” she asks, and though the tone is sincere, there’s no warmth behind it.

“Never,” he replies, “Things are just the way I want them.”

This woman, in her all finery and dignified air, stamps her foot on the ground like a child having a tantrum.

“You’re making a mockery of our family, you know that, yes?” she asks.

“You’re the one yelling at me and embarrassing yourself in a restaurant full of people,” Hyunjin points out.

“You are an aggravating and ungrateful child,” his mother hisses.

“Maybe,” Hyunjin agrees, “But I’m happy.”

Perhaps sensing that she’s starting to make a scene, his mother glances around at the other patrons, who are trying to hide the way they’re listening in with varying levels of success. Your waitress is lingering by the edge of the service floor, eyes glued on the scene.

“You’ll come to your senses,” she promises darkly. “And you’ll come begging for my help. We’ll see if I take pity on you then.”

And with that, she turns around and stalks toward the exit, not even pausing as she barks at the valet to bring her ride around. You watch until she’s outside and out of sight, and then you focus on Hyunjin.

His hands are shaking so badly that his fork clatters against his plate. You reach out and cover his hand with yours, easing the fork out of his grip and laying it down. You feel horrible, and kind of sick, but you know that between the two of you, Hyunjin is worse, so you have to push that discomfort down, just for a while.

“Let’s finish our dinner, okay?” you say, “And then we can talk about this.”

---------------

The rest of the date isn’t agonizing, but it is uncomfortable. You chat, and joke, albeit without the same easy grace as before. Seeing his mother, and having her speak to both of you that way has really seemed to rattle Hyunjin more than a confrontation usually would.

You settle the tab, splitting it like you always do, and then you find yourselves on a bench outside the restaurant, set away from the main road. It’s dark, and it’s chilly, but it’s comfortable with the gentle atmospheric music from the restaurant marquee and the sounds of traffic.

“Min’s mom wasn’t ready for a baby.”

You glance at Hyunjin at the sound of his voice. He’s fiddling with the cuffs of his blazer, still looking distinctly unsettled.

“Neither of us were,” he amends.

“Was she a hookup?” you ask.

“A girlfriend,” he says, “But not…she was just a girl from a good family. Someone my parents thought would be a good match, so we dated for a long time.”

“A good match,” you repeat, “A good match for you?”

“A good match for the family,” he says bitterly.

“What does that matter?”

“Oh, it matters. Way more than what I want,” he says.

“They’re really rich, aren’t they?” you ask, thinking about his mother’s clothes, and her attitude, and pretty much everything about her, “Your parents, I mean.”

“Disgustingly rich.”

“Oh.”

“She’s a really nice girl, a good person. But she really didn’t want to be with me forever, and she certainly didn’t want a kid,” Hyunjin says.

“So what happened?” you ask.

“She broke things off when she got pregnant, which made both of our families pissed beyond belief. The proper thing to do would have been to get married, right? But instead she ended the relationship, and moved home,” Hyunjin says, “They took care of Min for like a year and a half, her parents and a nanny.”

“Not the mom?”

Hyunjin shakes his head. “She just didn’t want a kid. Which is okay, more than okay. Our parents were the ones who wanted to keep the pregnancy, not her. I just wanted everyone to stop fighting.”

You just nod. Hyunjin is keeping this story so purposefully vague, not dropping names or placing blame or really showing any anger. You wonder how much time he’s spent thinking about this story, or telling it in different ways. He seems almost desensitized to it all.

“When Min was almost two, her mom asked if I would take on full custody so she could sign away her parental rights and be out of the picture for good. And I figured,” Hyunjin laughs bitterly, “I figured, better to have one parent that loves you the most than two while one is half-assing it.”

“No, I can see that,” you say.

“Minnie lived with me at my parents’ house until they realized that my ex was never coming back. They always figured we’d get back together.”

“Why?!” you ask, incredulous.

Hyunjin looks at you. “Because that would be the dutiful thing to do. Get married, stay together for the kid, avoid any embarrassing attention on the families.”

“Even if that meant you were both miserable forever?”

Hyunjin turns his gaze back at the ground, sighing. “My parents said they wouldn’t support me if I couldn’t even do that one thing right and convince my ex to do right by the families and marry me. But I wasn’t gonna force her. She’s a good person. just in over her head, and scared. And I can’t blame her for that. I can’t forgive her. But I understand.”

“So, what, they kicked you out?”

“Kicked me out, cut me off,” Hyunjin nods. “I used to be set for life, with their money to back me up. I could have fucked around forever, lived comfy. They took it all away because I wouldn’t marry a girl who didn’t love me and just wanted to live her own life.”

“You’re a good person,” you say.

“It was an easy choice,” he quips, some of his usual humor returning now that he’s gotten the stress of his story out of his mind, “Either my parents, who only love me conditionally, or my daughter, who loves the biggest and best out of anyone ever.”

You laugh, but you can’t shake the new strange feeling that has settled over you, now that you know all of this about him. Knowing that Hyunjin is the rejected son of a wealthy family, a silver-spoon kid with a heart of gold. It only validates some of those nagging feelings that in some unavoidable way, Hyunjin is far, far too good for you.

He’s given up a life of luxury and security for his daughter, and his freedom. You’re not about to make him compromise on anything else, ever. At all.

“Min doesn’t even miss any of them,” Hyunjin says thoughtfully, “Doesn’t even ask.”

“That’s good, I guess,” you say.

He shrugs. “Means that she’s not too fucked up from bouncing around like that as a baby, which is a fuckin’ blessing.”

“She’s safe and happy with you now, though,” you say.

Hyunjin grins at you. “But you know who’s been a great parent influence on her?”

“Who?”

“You.”

You laugh. “I’m no parent, trust me.”

“I dunno, you’re pretty great with her,” he says airily, “I don’t trust my kid with just anyone.”

“You gotta stop being so nice to me,” you say. “You’re gonna give me ideas.”

“Ideas like what? Afraid I’ll wanna take you out on a date? Introduce you to my kid? Oh wait-”

“Shut up!” you whine, nudging him. “I just…can’t believe you like me, sometimes. Like, that you really like me, like this.”

“Of course, I like you,” Hyunjin says, dumbfounded, “We’ve been going out for weeks.”

“Yeah, and that only started because Min told you that she wanted to be friends with me.”

“Did you really think that I got your number that day because I wanted you to be friends with my three-year-old?” Hyunjin asks.

“Yes!” you answer, totally honest, “Yes, I did. I think that you would do anything in the world for that kid, even something stupid like inviting me out.”

You stand up, suddenly needing some space, some air that isn’t warm from Hyunjin’s presence by your side or scented with his soft cologne. He just watches as you pace a few short steps away from the bench.

“It was maybe twenty percent because she was being so cute with you,” he says desperately, “But the other eighty percent was for me.”

You can’t believe that. Sure, part of you hoped for it, because it’s truly so insane to just let your preschooler make friends with random women in public. It makes sense for him to have an ulterior motive. You’d hoped that it was really him who was interested, even if he just intended to hook up with you and then cut it off.

It’s beyond obvious to you that you’ve fallen hard for Hyunjin, even in just this short time. The idea of him feeling anything like that for you is much harder to fathom.

“I know you care about me, at least a little,” Hyunjin says, standing up to join you, “At least, I hope you do. Something, some chance that you like me as more than a friend, or a casual date…”

“I do,” you say, voice strangled and tiny, “But you…you’re-”

“I’m what? I’m a father already? I have too much baggage for you?”

Your heart breaks a little bit more as he says that, as you imagine other people in the past dumping him with those exact words. The conviction in his voice is all that you need to picture it; a different person, a different night, the same outcome.

“No!” you insist.

“Then what?”

You bite the bullet, and you say it. “Because you’re beautiful, Hyunjin. You’re perfect. You have a wonderful kid and a nice life that you’ve built for her and yourself after all of that shit you went through. You…you’re too good for me.”

Hyunjin recoils like he’s been slapped. “How can you think that?”

“I just look at your life, and I can’t possibly picture you moving things around just to fit me in,” you say.

“How can you think that there’s not already space for you?! Can’t you see that you’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a long, long time?” he asks.

“Because I’m…” you struggle, “I’m boring, Hyunjin, I don’t know! I’m not worth changing for.”

“That’s bullshit,” he scoffs. “You’re letting my mother get to you, which is just what she wants.”

“Then I’m just not right for you,” you say, trying to ignore his comment about his mother and how absolutely right it is. “You have this cute little picturesque life, and I have my normal job and my hobbies and my family and friends and I would just…be in the way.”

“You’re not in the way now,” Hyunjin says.

“We’re not a serious couple now!”

“Why can’t you just let me like you?!”

He’s practically yelling now, keeping his distance and nearly folding in on himself as he looks at you with eyes that are far too shiny. It’s not the yelling that gets to you, but what he’s saying.

“Because it’s scary!” you yell back. “I don’t want to lose you, or your kid, but I know that-”

“I can show you,” he pleads.

He draws in a little closer, like he’s afraid he’s going to spook you. Against your stubborn brain’s protests, you reach out to thread your fingers with his.

You don’t want to lose him.

But as disgusting and cliché and self-deprecating as it is, you just can’t fathom someone like him wanting to be with someone like you.

Hyunjin leans more fully into your gentle grasp, pulls you right up close to him so that the two of you are toe to toe, there on the street outside the restaurant, as cars pass by and streetlights cast their dim yellow light over it all. He’s looking right into your eyes, expression firm and warm and so, so Hyunjin. You can feel your heart fluttering in your chest as you scan his face for nervousness or insincerity, and find none.

He’s looking at you the way he looks at Minnie when she falls asleep on the couch watching Frozen 2 for the millionth time. The way he looks at Judy when her back is turned in the café.

“I’ll show you that I mean it,” he says again, “I’ll be here for you. I’ll support you the way that you’ve supported us. I’ll love-”

He can’t get to the end of that sentence, because you wrench your free arm around his neck and pull him down to kiss you. He startles, lets go of your hand, and you freeze, thinking you’ve miscalculated the situation and gone too far. But he recovers quickly, wrapping both arms around your waist. He adjusts you so that you’re flush against him, and kisses back, harder.

His plush lips are wine-sour and soft, and he molds them against yours like he’s starving for it.

“My place,” he says, pulling back just the slightest bit so he can speak, “My place.”

“But-”

“Min is at Judy’s for the night,” he says, “Please.”

You want to. You want to so badly that your head is spinning, that your heart is beating out a rhythm against your ribcage. He’s here in front of you, wrapped up in you, so handsome and so unattainable…

Well. You think that Hyunjin is making a mistake. But if he’s gonna make it, you’re gonna enjoy every minute of it.

“Okay,” you breathe.

“Okay, or yes?” Hyunjin says, “I need a real yes.”

You hesitate. You decide. You say it.

“Yes.”

Just like that, he’s pulling you down the road to his car and opening the passenger’s side door for you. His place is across the city from here, so you settle in for what’s sure to be the most impatient car ride of your life. Anticipation drags out the minutes, as the energy between you grows so tense that you’re sure one of you is going to snap and start things up before you even get there.

But you’re spilling out onto the sidewalk in front of his building before you know it, Hyunjin’s hand on the small of your back, guiding you.

You’ve been to his place before, to meet him outside for dates, but you’ve never gone inside before. It’s a regular villa building, boxy and painted a demure white, and he leads you up the metal stairs to the third floor.

“I’m not trying to pressure you into anything,” Hyunjin says uncertainly, as he unlocks the door.

“I know,” you say, “I wouldn’t have come up if I didn’t want…well…”

Hyunjin grins his understanding, and you follow him into the apartment, taking his lead as he kicks off his shoes. You peek around when he flips on the lights.

His home looks about the way you’d expect: modest-sized and full of plain, sturdy furniture that looks like it could take a few hits. The décor is understated, intending to be an atmosphere of minimalist modernism, except that a girly, demanding preschooler definitely lives here. Drawings cover the fridge, the corkboard on the wall, the dining table with its one normal chair and one pink booster seat. Toys, hair accessories, and art supplies sit on shelves, in baskets, on end tables.

“It’s cute,” you say.

“Hm?”

Hyunjin pops his head out of the kitchen, now sans blazer, where he’s switching on more lights. He obviously has a just-gotten-home routine, and he’s not about to abandon it just because you’re here.

“This place. It’s cute,” you repeat. “It suits you.”

“It’s small,” he says with a shrug, tossing his blazer onto the back of the couch, “But we each have a bedroom and that’s really all that I can ask for. You ever shared a bedroom with a toddler? Not cool.”

“I’d like to see your room,” you tease, cringing at yourself instantly for making the dumbest of the dumb jokes.

But Hyunjin’s expression is just dangerously joyful, like he’s really taking it to heart.

“I’ll give you the grand tour,” he says.

“Sounds like you’re plotting.”

“I did tell you that I would prove it to you,” he says, drawing in close to you again, “How much I care about you.”

“The only way you know how to do that is with sex?” you ask playfully, “That’s sad. Maybe expand your vocabulary, first.”

He looks down at you, amused and just slightly frustrated. “Why can’t you make this easy for me?”

“Nothing with me is easy,” you say, “You should get used to that.”

“I dunno. You’re kind of easy to love.”

There he goes again, with that word. You can feel your cheeks burning, unable to process such casual affection from someone you like so much.

“Can I kiss you?” you ask.

“As much as you want,” he promises.

You slot yourself comfortably into his arms and lean up to kiss him. He’s got such ridiculous plush lips, soft and sliding against yours, and he holds you like you’re something precious. It’s an overwhelming amount of attention, but you let yourself bask in it.

“C’mon,” he says, “I’ll give you that tour.”

He winks, and then he releases you, walking across the small living space toward the doors on the far wall. Following him is second nature, at this point, and you pad after him.

“This is Min’s room,” he tells you.

He cracks the door on the right, so that you can see a peek of the pink explosion on the other side.

“She picked all her own décor,” he says.

“I’m starting to think that pink is just your favorite color, and you’re using the kid as an excuse,” you say.

“You’ll never get me to admit it,” he grins.

He opens the door on the left, and this room is soft woods and earth tones. Definitely an adult’s room, almost stark in its lack of personal effects. It’s dark except for city lights filtering between the open curtains, casting the room into a seductive kind of shadow. You follow him into the room, grinning to yourself.

“Bed looks comfy,” you say.

Hyunjin sits down on the edge of the bed, strong thighs in dress pants drawing your eye shamefully quickly, and fixes you with a look.

“Come find out,” he offers.

You can’t keep being so self-conscious about this. It’s Hyunjin, it’s only Hyunjin, your friend. One of your dearest friends. With his supermodel face, and his long blonde hair falling out of its ponytail in wisps around his cheekbones, and the outline of his cock against his thigh-

Fuck.

Something in you snaps. You climb into his lap, settling yours knees on either side of his hips, winding your arms around his neck to pull his mouth back against yours. He laughs into the kiss, his hands landing on your hips and pulling you down harder into him.

“See?” he says, voice low, “It’s not so hard to open up to me, is it?”

“I think you’re making a mistake,” you mutter.

“You’re so mean to yourself,” Hyunjin chides.

You cock an eyebrow at him. “I can be mean to you instead.”

He just laughs again, grinding his hips up into you briefly. You can feel him getting hard beneath you, distinct even through the layers of clothes that separate the two of you.

“Can this come off?” he asks, plucking at the collar of your nice silky blouse.

“Yeah.”

His answering smile is dark and satisfied, conniving in a way that makes your pulse jump. Hyunjin is so calm and sweet most of the time, cheerful in a way that suggests naivety. You almost worry about him, sometimes, worry that to other he’ll come across as just pretty and dim. Why are you getting the feeling that you’ve stumbled across a very different part of him, tonight?

“D’you know how long I’ve wanted to do this?” he asks, against your collarbone, as he unbuttons your blouse down your chest, down your stomach.

“How long?”

“Too long. Way too long.

He’s pushing your shirt off your shoulders before you know it, reaching around to unhook your bra. His hands are firm and certain, the stumbling hesitation that he’d shown while asking you out nowhere to be found. Here, apparently, he’s absolutely comfortable.

Your shirt and bra are discarded carelessly, and you’re surprised that you feel no shyness at all when Hyunjin cups your breasts in his hands and thumbs over your nipples.

“Knew you’d be pretty,” he says.

“Shut up,” you mumble.

He gives you another one of those feline grins.

“Watch it,” he warns.

Hyunjin hooks one arm around your back and flips the two of you over so that he’s on top, all but dragging you up to the middle of the bed. You’re sprawled on your back under him now, bouncing gently on the mattress with the force that he’d used to move you.

“You’re even prettier like this,” he smirks, “I like the slacks, by the way, very professional. I didn’t tell you that earlier.”

“Thanks,” you reply, breathing heavy, unsure how to handle this new Hyunjin and his blinding confidence.

“Can those come off, too?”

“What about your clothes?” you whine.

“We’ll get to that,” he promises.

He only needs one hand to unbutton, unzip, and tug your slacks down to your knees in one fluid motion, and he move aside so you can kick them off all the way.

“These are so you,” Hyunjin says.

You’re confused, until you look down yourself to see the panties you’d put on that morning: light blue with a pattern of tiny white running llamas. They’re not all that sexy, but they’re comfy, and it’s not like you’d explicitly planned on anyone seeing them, date or no date.

“I wasn’t expecting to get fucked tonight,” you say bluntly, “Give me a break.”

“Should have at least hoped for it,” he grins.

“I try to keep my expectations realistic.”

“You need to give yourself more credit,” Hyunjin says.

To punctuate it, he leans down over you fully, caging you in, and kisses you breathless again. He trails his mouth and hands down your front lazily, scraping his teeth against your hipbone where it peeks from the waistband of your underwear. He lets one long finger trace over your panties, across your covered pussy, and you can’t help how you twitch.

“Bet you’re fuckin’ delicious, too. Am I gonna get to taste?” he asks.

“Jesus Christ,” you groan.

The mouth on him…you’ve never had someone talk to you like this before, so tender and affectionate but also so obscene. It sends arousal pealing through you, the idea that he can be so into this, into you.

“Use your words,” he says, “Come on, can I taste you?”

“Yes,” you say, “God, Hyunjin…”

“Oh, I like how my name sounds, like that, listen to you,” he purrs.

He hooks his fingers into your waistband and pulls your panties off smoothly. Those are abandoned over the edge of the bed, too, and Hyunjin has his face between your legs seemingly as fast as he can.

“Tell me if anything doesn’t feel good,” he says, warm breath fanning over your inner thighs.

“I will,” you say, “Don’t worry.”

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” he mutters, and he licks into you indulgently.

He’s got one hand bracing himself against your leg, one hand holding your folds open for him so he can dip his tongue into your opening, drag it slow across your clit.

“Fuck,” he says, and you swear you can feel the word against you, “Can’t wait to feel this sweet pussy around my dick.”

You moan. You can’t help it, can’t help the way you’re leaking your arousal against his tongue, the way his words and his gorgeous mouth are working you over. He pulls away from your core much too quickly, and he smiles when you whine.

“Just a taste, I said,” he placates.

He sits back on his heels between your legs to strip off his own clothes, but you haul yourself up to meet him.

“Let me do it,” you say.

“Be my guest.”

So it’s your turn to undo his buttons and give yourself an unencumbered look at his body for the first time. He’s slim, working muscle like a dancer, gorgeous skin under your hands. You kind of want to take your time, leave marks all over him and get to know every inch. But it does seem like he has an agenda tonight, as he impatiently shrugs off his shirt and undoes his own belt.

He rids himself of his pants and underwear quickly, and you really should have expected him to have a cock like THAT. He’s tall, and pretty, and of course, this part of him matches perfectly, long and thick and beautifully flushed.

“I’m clean,” you find yourself saying, “And on birth control, so if you want…we can…”

Hyunjin grins at you. “You just want me to fuck you raw.”

“I do,” you agree, “Fuck, I do.”

“I’m clean, too,” he tells you.

He nudges your legs apart to make room for him as he crawls back up your body, giving you a gentle playful shove so that you lay flat on your back for him again.

“Is that what you want? Want me to fill you up, just like this?”

He’s looming over you, propping himself up with his hands planted on either side of your head. You can feel the tip of his cock nudging between your folds.

“That’s what I want,” you agree desperately. “Please.”

You don’t know why you’re begging him like this. Are you that easy to break?

But you can’t bring yourself to care how ridiculous you sound, because Hyunjin rocks his hips forward to dip the head of his cock into you, and you keen.

“What do you want?” he asks, with a knowing smirk.

“You know exactly what!”

“I can’t give you anything unless you tell me,” he says.

“I want,” you struggle, “I want you to fill me up. Please.”

“That’s a good girl,” he praises gently.

He rewards you with another thrust, a little deeper, sending a fantastic thrill through your body but still nowhere near enough. He works himself into you slowly, just a bit at a time, pulling completely out in between just to be able to sink all the way back in.

After what seems like an eternity, he slides in completely, hips flush against yours. You squirm, needing him to do SOMETHING, after taking his sweet time to get to this point, but Hyunjin seems content to just sit like this for a moment.

“I was right,” he tells you, “Feels fuckin’ heavenly.”

“Move, please,” you beg.

“Be patient. Maybe I just want you to cockwarm me for the rest of the night,” he teases.

“I would go home,” you say.

He laughs. “Okay, okay, you got me, that’s not what I want.”

So slowly that you know he’s doing it on purpose to torture you, Hyunjin draws back and fucks into you, hard and deep. It coaxes a punched-out moan from your throat, already so strung out though you’ve just begun.

He’s stronger than you would have imagined, driving into you with those narrow dancer’s hips and leaning down to press kisses to your cheeks, your mouth, the sides of your throat. His hands roam like he wants to be touching all of you at once: kneading into your breast, smoothing back your hair, bending your legs up farther so he can fuck you deeper, better.

“Look how well you take me,” he says.

You do look. You crane your neck up to look down the narrow space between you, as Hyunjin props up his body above you, and you can just barely see his thick cock working into you, disappearing with an obscene squelch that leaves no question about how much you’re enjoying yourself.

“So messy,” he teases.

“’m not messy,” you mumble, feeling sex-stupid but indignant.

“No?” he grins, “Not dripping wet for me?”

You want to argue, but he’s right; you can feel exactly how wet you are for him. You can’t remember the last time someone had you so desperate, so ready and eager to take what you’re given. Hyunjin falls forward to let your bodies press together, covering you and pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear.

“Sweet girl,” Hyunjin murmurs, voice soft and fond and dangerous, “So good for me. So good with my kid. We could give her a sibling, you know.”

It sounds like something that just slipped out, the way that it’s so honest and the way that Hyunjin nearly gasps at himself. But your mind has gone one hundred percent completely blank. You let out a moan that’s mostly silent, as you let the implication of that wash over you.

You didn’t think you had a thing for, well…this.

But Hyunjin, looking at you like this, talking like this, honest and filthy, right in your ear. You know that it’s just dirty talk, that he doesn’t mean it, not right this instant. You both know that you’re on birth control. But the game of it, the idea of it…

“Yes,” you gasp, “Oh my God-”

“Oh, you REALLY like that,” he purrs, “I can feel you squeezing around me.”

“Hyunjin!” you moan.

“Is that what you want, baby? You just wanna be filled up with my cum, is that it?”

You can’t believe the words coming out of his mouth, and you doubly can’t believe how much you fucking love them, how you’re nodding and clawing your fingernails down his back at the picture he’s painting for you.

“Please,” you gasp, “I want – I want-”

Hyunjin draws up so that he can look into your eyes. “Baby wants me to give her a baby. Hm.”

Never in your life have you been brought right to the point of cumming just from someone’s words, but that’s exactly what’s happening. You can feel that perfect fuzzy electricity in your toes, building up. If you cum untouched, just from this, you’re gonna have some real soul-searching to do.

He seems to be at a similar place, fucking into you at a breakneck pace, still murmuring at you mindlessly.

“Want to fill up this sweet pussy, put a baby in you…Jesus fucking Christ, so good,” Hyunjin moans.

“Inside,” you agree, “Please – I need you, I just-”

As if he couldn’t be more perfect, Hyunjin slips his hand between you, presumably to bring you over the peak with him. The instant his finger presses against your clit, starts to rub a messy circle in the wetness spreading across your folds and your inner thighs, you cum.

You feel like screaming, but your voice is strangled, constricted with arousal, “Oh-”

“Fuck!” Hyunjin moans, like he’s agreeing with you.

One, two, three, four deep strokes, and Hyunjin bottoms out, pressing into you as he cums. Your hips buck into him on their own accord as he paints your walls with his cum, and you can’t help the newly-awakened corner of your mind that thinks about what could happen, if you weren’t on your birth control, if you did this again…

Goddamn. You really have some journaling to do later, or something.

“So perfect,” Hyunjin mutters, letting his head fall, burying his face in your shoulder, “So fucking perfect, how did I get so lucky?”

You’re the lucky one, you think to yourself. Your brain is simultaneously too full and too empty to say anything coherent, so you just lay there, wrap your limbs around Hyunjin as well as you can. He gets the message, you think, because he snuggles more firmly into you and turns his head to press a kiss to your jaw.

He’s warm, and kind of heavy, but you don’t want him to move, or to pull out of you. Just let this minute last a little longer, you think. Just a little longer, before you have to talk about what all of this means.

---------------

You only know you’ve fallen asleep when you wake up.

There’s a weight on your chest, pressing you into the mattress. For a second you think you have sleep paralysis, until you get a face-full of blonde hair and realize that it’s just Hyunjin, fast asleep on top of you.

“Get up,” you say, pushing on him gently, “And, ew, let me clean up.”

You can feel his cum drying on the inside of your thighs, where it trickled out around his softened cock while you slept. It’s kind of nasty, but the memory of all the hazy lust-filled things you said to each other makes you not mind so much.

Hyunjin yawns audibly, right next to your head, and then he peels himself off you.

“Sorry,” he grins. “Are your arms asleep?”

“No. Doesn’t your neck hurt from laying like that?”

He presses a smacking kiss to your forehead. “No. You’re a good pillow.”

Hyunjin pulls out of you and climbs gingerly off the bed. You squint around the room until your eyes find a glowing digital clock on his bedside; it’s only just past midnight.

“Shower and then sleep?” Hyunjin offers.

“Sounds good.”

He helps you to your feet, laughing as your knees threaten to buckle despite the cooldown period you’ve had.

“I hope I didn’t cross any lines,” he says tentatively, “I took a risk with all that baby talk and-”

“I liked it,” you admit, shy.

“Really?”

You nod. “I mean, we shouldn’t do anything stupid. Not right now. But just to play with, in the bedroom…”

Grinning, you fan yourself dramatically with your hand, like you’re a proper lady being overwhelmed with the saucy behavior of your male paramour.

Hyunjin laughs again. “Good to know.”

He shows you across the hall to the bathroom, men’s hair and skin and shaving products lined up next to rainbow-packaged kiddie shampoo and a small bin full of bath toys. As the shower is warming up, steam and the sound of rushing water filling the bathroom, he nudges you with his elbow.

“I knew all along that you were just into me because I have a kid,” he says.

You consider it, as you pull back the shower curtain and test the water. It’s warm, so you draw the curtain fully back and step under the spray. Peeking out at him, water starting to run down your back and warm your skin the way that Hyunjin’s presence warms you on the inside, you smile.

“Guess you’re just a DILF.”

💕💕💕💕

#hwang hyunjin #stray kids #hwang hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin fics #stray kids hyunjin #stray kids hyunjin smut #dilf series #kpop #kpop fanfic #tw emotional manipulation #tw emotional neglect #tw unhealthy relationship

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kenjikutie · 4 years

Text

That’s my Wife [Sakusa Kiyoomi]

summary: when you show up for your first day of managing the black jackals, your husband is less than thrilled with the attention you recieve from his team-members word count: 1.4k pairing: sakusa kiyoomi x wife!reader warnings: manga spoilers

with a grin on your face, you pushed open your apartment door, quickly pulling off your shoes and tossing them to the side. your husband would be home from the store in about ten minutes, so you had a little time to reflect on what you had just gotten yourself into. after pumping a dollop of soap onto your hands, you let them run underneath the soothing warm water, your lips still upturned in happiness

you had just agreed to a position as manager to your husband’s volleyball team, the msby black jackals. from what you had heard, they were one of the most talented teams in the circuit right now, rivaled only by the schweiden adlers. however, it wasn’t their rankings that made you want to work for them. the prospect of working with your husband every day was too good to pass up

just thinking about waking up together and getting to hear his morning voice while the two of you were getting dressed made your heart palpitate. even after being married for a little over a year, kiyoomi could still make your cheeks flare red with a single glance

hearing the door open, you quickly turned off the sink and dried off your hands, knowing that your husband would be less than happy if you greeted him with wet hands. you heard him call out for you and you inwardly cheered, rushing out of the kitchen to meet him

kiyoomi’s eyes brightened just a little bit at the mere sight of you, something only someone who knew him as you did would be able to notice. however, there was a look of frustration on his face, something else on you would pick out. you quirked a brow at him, continuing to wrap your arms around his waist and look up at him with soft eyes

he reached behind you to set his hands on your back, “i got a call from coach a few minutes ago.”

“oh, crap.”

kiyoomi pinched your side at your language and sighed, gently tugging himself out of your grasp. he sat down at the dining table, followed closely by you, who took a seat at his side. you carefully reached for his hand, interlacing your fingers together with a small smile

“you know how much my teammates annoy me. why would you want to put yourself through that?”, he grumbled and you could hear the annoyance in his voice at the thought of his team

you laughed, setting a hand on his cheek, feeling how he leaned into your touch almost immediately, ”unlike you, oomi, i actually enjoy talking to people. i’ve met them before, ya know? remember that night we all went out to the bar?”

kiyoomi did remember that night. he remembered having to carry you home after you had gotten yourself incredibly drunk due to atsumu challenging you to a drinking contest. he nearly killed the corn-colored blond the next day

with a huff, kiyoomi pouted, making you poke his cheek a few times with a teasing smile, “oh, come on, oomi! we’ll get to see each other every day and you never have to worry about me walking home alone. isn’t that a good thing?”

you did have a point. kiyoomi had always been adamant about you walking alone at night, or even during the day and made you meet him at his gym every day after practice anyways. maybe this was just a way to cut out the middle-man

“fine. but, you need to buy me a ton of umeboshi to make up for this, got it?”

“yeah, yeah, you big baby.”, kiyoomi stalked into the bedroom and you cackled, calling after him about how you were joking and how he had to come back and love you this instant

----

your first day had gone off without a hitch so far. you had woken up with more energy than normal, your favorite breakfast place had gotten your order out quickly and you had been able to spend time with your husband all morning. despite, the constant deadpan look on his face, you could tell that he was happy to have you close

when the two of you got the practice gym, kiyoomi pecked your temple through his mask and retreated into the locker room while your attention was grabbed by their coach, who began to talk to you about where to put your things and what he would need you to do that day. you paid close attention to everything he was saying, not wanting to make a fool out of yourself on your first day of the job

as you began to fill up the water bottles, the doors to the gym slammed open, screams and shouts filling the large space, making you jump, nearly spilling water all over yourself

“ya are so stupid, bokuto! ya know that? ya ruined my chances with that girl back there!”, a voice heavily licked with an accent you didn’t recognize was the first one you picked up on

you furrowed your eyebrows as you watched the two adults chase one another around the court, followed closely behind a smaller, orange-haired boy, yelling at them to knock it off. with the coach nowhere to be found and kiyoomi still in the locker room, no doubt in the middle of his third shower, you figured it was up to you to calm the three down

the blond tackled the man he was chasing, dragging him down to the floor as the white and black-haired man yelped. you set your hands on your hips and walked up to the pile of fully grown men

“excuse me.”, no one even registered your voice and you rolled your eyes before walking over to the cart of volleyballs and chucking one in their direction

“hey! knock it off!”, the three of them stared at you in surprise, before the smallest one ran up to you, stopping just before he knocked you over

“who are you? i don’t think anyone else is supposed to be in here?”, he put a hand to his chin, as if in deep thought while he circled around you

the blonde chuckled and gave you a smirk, “must be one of ma fans, heh? sorry to break it to you, dollface, but, ya’re not supposed to come into the gym.”

“actually-”, the man cut you off with an arm around your shoulders

“ya are kinda cute, so if ya wanna wait outside then i can-”

suddenly, his arm was nowhere to be found. you glanced upward and saw your husband, looking angrier than you have ever seen him before, holding the man’s arm as if it was the dirtiest thing he had ever touched. kiyoomi looked down at you with a brow raised and you nodded, assuring him that you were fine

“what do you think you’re doing, miya?”, his voice was low and you noticed that the owl-looking player had moved several feet away and the small one was hiding behind his back

“geez, omi-kun, calm down, i was just tryin’ to getta fan outta here.”

kiyoomi dropped his arm and continued his glare before placing a hand on your waist, pulling you closer to his side, lip twitching upward as you rested your head on his chest, looking up at him with doe eyes

“this isn’t a fan, stupid miya. that’s my wife and for this day forward, your new manager, so i’d suggest keeping your hands to yourself and learning a little respect.”, you tapped his chest, attempting to switch his glare off but when that didn’t work, you turned back to the team

“hi! as i tried to tell you, i’m sakusa y/n, your new manager. it’s nice to meet you,”, you glanced at the blond, “not you.”

after being told their names, you assured bokuto and hinata that you weren’t mad at them, despite their begging and whining of apologies, volunteering to help you with any task you needed. you took them up on their offer and brought them into the storage room to get some help with items on taller shelves

atsumu and kiyoomi were left in the gym, beginning to hit some passes to one another, but the tension in the air was still clear

“your wife is hot, good job omi-kun.”, atsumu laughed, trying to break the silence

you swore you heard a shout before the resounding sound of a firmly spiked volleyball. with a giggle, you silently thanked your husband for helping you today and began to feel more and more excited about what your future with this team held

the end

#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu fanfiction #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #msby black jackal #kiyoomi sakusa x reader #kiyoomi x reader #haikyuu sakusa

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polaroid15 · 3 years

Text

Parker Luck

Summary: Two weeks after the Vulture-incident, Tony buys a parenting book. Too bad there isn't a chapter on Parker luck.

Read on Ao3 HERE :)

------

Two weeks after the Vulture fiasco, Tony buys a book called ‘Parenting for Dummies’.

He almost immediately regrets the purchase and hides it in a drawer in the lab, not yet brave enough to face it. Then one day he spends three hours squished against Peter’s side, listening to the boy ramble about everything under the sun while they adjust his web shooters. It hits Tony like a brick wall, and when Peter bounces out of the lab after teaching Tony a complicated handshake he knows he’ll never remember, he swears under his breath.

He shouldn’t be surprised, really. He had known it from that very first moment in the kid’s bedroom in Queens.

For once, denial has gotten him nowhere.

After his eyes ache from staring at the door Peter had disappeared from, Tony stands, stretches out a kink in his lower back, and grabs the book from the drawer before he can lose his nerve. Still standing, he traces his thumb over the word Parenting on the cover.

Retreat, his mind begs. Stop. Before it’s too late.

But deep down, he knows he’s already in too deep.

With a heavy sigh and a pressing warmth in his chest, Tony flips the pages to chapter one.

--------

Peter calls it ‘Parker luck’.

Tony calls it the source of his ever-increasing gray hair.

When Peter stumbles into the Tower covered in blood and delirious from a nasty hit to the head, Tony thinks he’ll pass out from the sudden weight of his worry. It only takes some gentle coaxing and seven stitches to make it better, but the unease sits in Tony’s gut long after Peter falls asleep. When the boy wakes up, he apologizes until Tony snaps at him not too.

“It’s the Parker luck, Mr. Stark,” Peter tells him, his head wrapped like a mummy on halloween. “It gets me everytime.”

Parenting for Dummies Chapter Three: Listen. “A nasty concussion doesn’t exactly sound like luck to me, kid.”

“Oh, well it’s not good luck,” Peter clarifies with a weak smile. “In fact it’s really bad luck. Exceptionally bad.”

“You’re killing me here.”

“Did you know that I slipped on a banana peel once? A banana peel. I was on crutches for three weeks in middle school.”

Tony’s worry melts into a hesitant amusement. He sits back on his stiff medbay chair and makes a distant note to invest in a better one. “That is pretty lousy luck, kiddo.”

“And it just keeps getting worse,” Peter says. “Getting bitten by a radioactive spider, crashing Flash’s car, or the fact that I spent homecoming destroying a plane while fighting my date’s dad.”

“I hope this Parker luck of yours isn’t contagious,” Tony jokes, but something in Peter’s eyes darkens. He leans back against the white sheets, chewing on his bottom lip. Tony thinks again of chapter three, of the subtitle that prompts to push at the right times, and takes the liberty. “What is it, kid?”

Peter closes his eyes and gives a watery smile. “Nothing, Mr. Stark. Sorry.”

And because he’s an idiot, Tony believes him. Something tells him he needs to buy Parenting for Dummies 2.

--------

When Peter saves a school bus full of third graders from a thirteen car pileup at the expense of his collar bone, Tony rereads his book, this time with a highlighter in hand.

He wishes there was a section on Parker luck.

This time, he’s less careful about where he reads. Pepper catches him one night, her eyebrows disappearing behind her bangs in her surprise. Her smile is genuine. “Is that what I think it is?” she asks.

“Maybe.”

“Oh God, please don’t tell me you’re pregnant.”

Tony rolls his eyes and dog ears his page before setting it aside. “I am, actually. And sorry to break it to you, but you’re not the father.”

Pepper laughs and sits on the arm of the couch. She runs her hand through his hair and he can’t help but lean into her touch. “This is about Peter,” she says.

His first instinct is to deny it. He feels vulnerable in a way he isn’t used to. “So what if it is?”

“He’s a good kid.”

“I know.”

“He’s making you soft.”

Tony scoffs, but doesn’t deny it. Not with Parenting for Dummies on his lap. “He’s stressing me out, is what he’s doing.”

“He really cares about you, Tony. I see it every time he’s over here.”

His body betrays him by the gentle swoop in his stomach. His mouth twitches in a smile. “I care about him too.”

“You’re a good example to him. He needs someone like you in his life. Especially after what happened to his parents. And his Uncle.”

And then it clicks. Parker luck. Tony’s mouth goes dry.

“I’m trying,” is all he manages to whisper. The book in his lap seems to increase by ten.

Pepper leans over him, pressing her lips into his hair. “I know.”

---------

It’s his and Peter’s fifth mission together.

Today, they’re going up against “the Detonator”, a crazed woman with an affinity for making bombs and setting them off in busy neighbourhoods. She’s armed with a team of rocket-launcher-wielding henchmen, and it’s taking every effort to keep the city in one piece.

Most of the block has been evacuated, thanks to Peter. Tony remembers chapter seven and shoots the boy some praise over their coms. Steve, who’s joined them for the day’s fight, agrees with clipped enthusiasm.

“Thanks guys!” Peter says in his usual animation. “These rocket launchers are no joke. Have you ever seen the movie-”

But whatever it is, it’s lost in the deafening sound of an explosion. He hears Peter swear over the com and Tony’s blood runs cold. Three blocks down, an orange fireball balloons into the air. Steve is already running, his shield tucked into his chest.

Tony shoots off into the sky.

---------

Peter thought they had everything under control.

Until rocket launcher man number 3 decided to explode the bank off 47th street, that is.

He feels the heat from the explosion before he can process what happened. It rips across his back and throws him off his feet into a hot dog cart across the street. Rubble and ash rain down on parked cars and their alarms begin to sound.

“Crap,” Peter groans, shoving away the dented cart and stumbling to his feet. His ears are ringing.

“Pete?” Tony’s voice cuts through the haze. “We’re on our way. You alright?”

“Yeah,” he responds, breathless. His shoulder aches. “These guys are not in a good mood.”

“You can say that again.”

The man who had fired the shot runs up the steps of the bank, bypassing chunks of concrete. Peter limps after him.

“Sorry man,” Peter says when his opponent’s back is still turned. “It’s after hours.”

Startled, the man spins. Peter fires a web to disarm him and it only takes one swift punch to finish the job. He webs him to the floor and kicks the rocket launcher into the corner.

“Kid?” Tony lands beside him, faceplate lifting and his hands reaching to grab onto him. His grip is tight on Peter’s arms, and Peter is unsure which one of them Tony is trying to comfort. “You still in one piece?”

Peter’s ears are still ringing, a high pitched whine that makes his eye twitch. His ankle throbs and he can feel warmth spreading down his back from a cut on his shoulder. He nods anyway. “Are you?”

“Better now that I see you haven’t been barbecued.”

Steve joins them as Peter laughs off Tony’s worry. He’s breathing heavy, his forehead streaked with ash. “Someone sighted the Detonator. She’s heading east towards the Empire State Building.”

“Of course she is,” Tony sighs. Finally, he lets Peter go. “Ready for a field trip?”

But just as he says it, another violent explosion lights up the street across from them. Peter stumbles against the force. Tony grabs his arm, and Steve his shoulder, and he steadies. Through the black smoke, a child cries.

Chest tight, Peter takes a step forward before he’s yanked back. It’s Tony. His helmet hides his expression, but Peter can tell from his stiff posture that he’s worried. That he doesn’t want to separate.

As if sensing it too, Steve places a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Peter and I will clear the rocket launchers. You go take care of the Detonator.”

“But-”

“She can’t get to it first, Tony. You’ll be the fastest.”

The crying continues, and Peter takes another step. This time, the metal fingers wrapped around his elbow loosen, letting him go. “You better watch him, Rogers.”

“Mr. Stark-”

“Don’t do anything stupid, kid.”

And then Tony is off, blasting off into the sky. Peter shivers against the hot air his exit leaves before turning to run towards the smoke and debris, Steve hot on his heels. Without hesitation, he jumps over the small flames and emerges on the other side, his throat closing up against the smoke.

The first thing Peter sees is the child, snot-nosed and hidden underneath the bed of a truck. His eyes widen when he sees them, a cry stopped short. “Spider-Man!” he yells.

“Get the kid,” Steve says. “I think I see our guy.”

And then he’s gone.

Peter doesn’t dwell on it, vaulting over a smashed mailbox and a stretch of broken glass to reach the kid’s side. He’s trembling, but his hands reach out. Trusting him.

“It’s alright,” Peter says, accepting the kid’s outstretched hands. “We’re okay. Do you know where your family is?”

The boy shakes his head, lip wobbling but obviously trying to be brave. “N-no. I lost them over there,” he says pointing down the street.

“Okay. No problem. Let’s go find them.”

He doesn’t give the boy an option to walk, but instead guides him to rest against his back. Small fingers lock together at the base of Peter’s throat, holding tight.

“What’s your name?” Peter asks as he heads in the direction the boy had pointed. Keep him distracted.

“Benny.”

Peter’s breath catches. “Nice to meet you, Benny. I’m Spider-Man.”

“I- I know.”

“Oh yeah?”

The boy’s head bobs against his back. “I see you on TV. And on the newspapers on the street. You fight bad guys.”

“I try too.”

“You’re awesome,” Benny says, and the shaking quality to his voice recedes.

“I think you’re the awesome one. You’re being so brave.”

“Brave?”

“Yeah, Benny. Even though it’s scary right now you’re still going.”

Benny sniffles. “Are you scared?”

“Nah,” Peter says. “I’ve got you to protect me.”

Against his back, Benny’s chest swells with a breath of a response, but before he can let the words lose a relieved cry erupts from their left. A woman in a pastel headscarf runs towards them, her arms outstretched. “Benny! My little Ben-”

“Mom!”

Peter maneuvers him to the ground and as soon as his small feet hit the ground he’s running. The pair meet in the middle of the street, their arms wrapping tight and their tears mixing. The mother’s eyes meet him from over Benny’s shoulder. “Thank you,” she says, every ounce of her emotion leaking into her words.

“Of course,” is all he can manage.

Once he’s sure they're safe and off the street, he deviates his attention to his coms. “Steve?” he asks over a private channel. “Where are you?”

For a long time, Steve doesn’t respond. Then just as Peter’s worry spikes the man’s voice fills his ears, pinched and strained. “By the river. I’m cornered.”

“Karen-” Peter starts, but Steve’s location pops up on his screen before he can ask further. He changes the trajectory of his swing and just barely avoids clipping his hip on the corner of a building. Then, to Steve, “I’m on my way!”

He finds the Captain in worse shape than he had expected. He’s hunched against an upturned car, it’s tires melted from the sheer heat of the destruction on the street. His shield is raised over his head to protect him from debris raining from the crumbling buildings.

Across the road, three of Detonator's accomplices are shooting the buildings around him, shrieking with glee whenever new glass shatters. Peter glides between the chaos before landing beside Steve. He scrapes his hands on the landing.

“Oh my god,” Peter says, flinching from another loud explosion. “What do we do?”

Steve grimaces, and it’s only now that Peter sees how messed up his leg is. It’s twisted at an unnatural angle, the material of his suit singed and still smoking around it.

“What the hell happened?” Peter gasps, feeling sick.

“It doesn’t matter. We need to get out of here.”

“Not with those crazy rocket guys standing guard. You can’t walk!”

“I can try.”

Adrenaline courses hot through Peter’s bloodstream. He peaks over the car and reassesses their opponents. “I can take them.”

“No. Tony said-”

“Tony isn’t here,” Peter argues. “Besides, I have my Peter tingle. I’ll be fine.”

“Peter tingle?”

“Be right back.”

“Wait!”

But Peter ducks out of cover, knowing that Steve won’t be able to stop him. He runs towards the one closest to him and hopes the element of surprise will be enough to take them down. It is, but barely, and now his cover is blown. The other two turn their weapons towards him and before he can suck in a breath, fire.

Peter swears and jumps high, the rockets whistling as they pass under his feet. They hit the edge of the sidewalk by the river, blowing it open and skipping chunks of debris into the water. Not wanting to wait for them to reload, Peter swings and takes them both out with a single kick. He lands in a messy roll, disoriented by the quickness of the fight.

“We’re clear!” he yells over to Steve, but even as he says it dread sits heavy in his gut. He takes one step towards the car before he hears it- a sharp release of air.

Fire blooms up at the base of the building closest to Steve, the crack of the impact enough to rattle Peter’s teeth and throw him to his knees. It’s the last straw. The building makes a horrible noise of grinding cement, like a scream, and Peter knows enough from experience that it’s close to collapse.

“Steve!”

He sprints to where the man is trying to limp away. His eyes find him, their blue shocking through the dust and smoke. “Peter. You have to get out of here-”

“Not without you.”

Before the man can object, Peter pulls his weight over his shoulder and makes it his burden. He wonders distantly where the fourth rocket launcher is and why they haven’t been blown sky high yet.

But then glass and cement falls down around them like rain, and Peter realizes. Because the building will finish the job for them.

“We’re not going to make it,” Steve says through ground teeth. His hold on Peter’s shoulder is bruising. “Peter, please.”

The building sways again. They have a couple seconds. Nothing more.

Then Peter sees it. A manhole.

“Here,” he gasps, dropping to his knees and tearing off the cover. Every alarm bell in his head is screaming, but it’s the only option. The only way they’ll both have a chance. “Go.”

Steve drops in, disappearing into darkness and landing below with an aborted shout. Peter kicks his legs in just as the building crumbles. Fear stops the breath in his chest and he slides the rest of the way in. He falls and lands hard, head spinning, before finding Steve’s arm in the darkness and pulling him deeper into the sewer.

There’s a couple moments of silence.

And then the world erupts.

Peter will remember later how the force of the impact threw both of them off their feet and how it was impossible to keep his grip on Steve’s arm. He’ll remember the deafening noise of the building smashing onto the street above them, of the great plume of dust that filled the tunnel and blinded him.

He’ll remember falling, his legs jelly, and struggling to his knees.

He’ll remember wishing he had called Tony.

But none of it registers in the moment. There’s only terror.

And then there’s nothing.

----------

“Peter. Come on. Work with me here.”

Awareness brings pain. He strays.

“Nope. No. Peter. Open your eyes.”

The voice belongs to Steve, Peter realizes in a stilted disorientation. Steve, who had been hurt. Steve, who sounds very much alive.

It’s enough for Peter to lift his heavy eyelids. His surroundings are dark, but he can see the Captain’s worried face swimming in front of him, warping in and out of focus as both of them release a breath of relief.

“Thank God,” Steve says.

“Are you okay?” Peter murmurs, surprised for a moment by how unwilling his vocal cords are to cooperate. There’s new blood on Steve’s face and the torso on his suit is torn.

“It’s you I’m more worried about.”

“Mm. Why?”

Steve might respond, but Peter doesn’t hear it, his awareness slipping like the close of a stage curtain. Strong hands shake him and the sting of his injuries are enough for him to struggle back into wakefulness.

“Stay awake, kid. Alright? Tony is on his way. Keep your eyes open.”

Peter didn’t remember closing his eyes, but sure enough, when he tries they open. “Tony?”

“He’ll be here soon.”

There’s a tightness in his chest, and Peter coughs against it. It sparks a sharp pain behind his ribs and he curls his fingers into the ground as Steve braces him by his shoulder. His ribs are definitely broken. His leg throbs and the skin on the right side of his face itches terribly with drying blood. He blinks a couple times to try and alleviate his double vision, but it does nothing.

“What happened?” Peter asks.

“You don’t remember?”

“Not really.”

Steve’s expression pinches like he’s just eaten something sour. “The building above us collapsed, but don’t worry about it too much. Tony will be here in a flash.”

Collapse. Peter sucks in a panicked breath and it makes him cough again. It hurts worse this time, and his vision goes gray. He comes back to himself in Steve’s lap, his whole body shuddering and then man’s hand clamped protectively against his back.

The new perspective shows Peter a growing red stain on the Captain’s side.

“Steve,” he gasps, uncoordinated fingers reaching out to press against the wound.

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not- it’s not nothing-”

Before Steve can retaliate further, their coms crack back to life. Peter winces against it, his fingers reaching up to struggle with the edges of his mask. Steve pushes his hand away. “Leave it. It’s helping filter your air.”

“Peter? Rogers?” Tony’s voice comes through in a mess of static. It reminds Peter of Ben’s favorite radio station that had been broadcasted too far to have a good connection. “I’m here. Oh Christ, I’m here. Are you okay?”

“Steve’s hurt,” Peter mumbles. It’s important Tony knows.

“Rogers?”

“Just hurry, Tony,” Steve says. There’s a pressure in his voice that Peter’s too tired to translate.

“The explosion caused the river to flood. You’re under about three feet of water right now.”

“We’re airtight.”

“For now.”

Peter feels himself dip further into Steve’s lap and the man’s steadying hand is delayed. Weaker. “Peter? What did I tell you about staying awake.”

“What’s wrong with Peter?”

“Queens. I need you to put pressure on this for me. Don’t give up on me now.”

Peter groans. For once, he doesn’t care how young it makes him sound. He struggles up anyways and replaces his hand obediently over Steve’s side. It paints his hands red and he tries desperately not to think of Ben.

“Rogers-”

“I got it, Tony.”

There’s a weighted silence. Peter bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself lucid. The static in his brain reminds him of the time he had gotten stabbed, and wonders if he’s bleeding somewhere too.

“Okay. I found a weak spot. It shouldn’t cause too much damage. Are you ready?”

“Go for it.”

There’s another lurch of shifting rock. Peter can’t help but cry out, his muddled brain struggling to comprehend that this time, it’s to help. Then there’s a loud crash, a weak beam of sunlight, and the rush of water.

Within seconds, the cold spray is up to their waists. Peter grinds his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut against reflexive tears the biting temperature brings. It gives him a boost of adrenaline, and when he opens his eyes again, his vision is more clear.

Tony is with them moments later, hovering above the water. His hands reach for Peter, but Peter shys away. “Steve first,” he pleads. “He’s bleeding-”

“You’re bleeding too-” Tony starts, but even as he says it, Steve lists dangerously to the side. His face is pale, his breathing shallow. Tony catches him by the shoulder. “Don’t move,” he tells Peter, and works to lift Steve up towards the hole.

The water is up to Peter's chest now. It steals the breath from his lungs and he scrambles to stand. Somewhere in the journey the ground above him groans and he loses his footing. He hears Tony yell out for him, feels metal hands push him hard, and then he’s completely underwater. There’s more noise. More pain.

He breaks the surface, stuttering on his breath and his teeth clattering. More sunlight has entered the tunnel, and it’s easy to piece together what had happened.

“Tony!”

Peter fights against the current to reach his mentor’s side. His suit is pinned under a large slab of concrete by his left leg, the water already sloshing up to his neck. Peter practically collapses beside him and digs his fingers under the weight, but his ribs scream in protest so violently that his vision goes white.

“Easy!” Tony yells, catching him by his arms when he falters. “Kiddo, listen to me. The suit will let me breathe for a while. You need to get out of here.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“You have to. FRIDAY took some damage, but she’s recalibrating my boosters. I’ll be able to get out.”

“No,” Peter chokes, trying again to lift the concrete keeping Tony pinned. “I won’t leave without you.”

“Peter-”

“I’m not losing you too. I can’t- I can’t-”

Tony’s voice is more gentle, his hand reaching to cradle the side of Peter’s face. “Listen to me, bud. I know this is scary. But you have to trust me. You have to go. For me.”

Peter shudders. Feels hot tears pool under the tight confines of his mask. “Told you I have Parker luck,” he says.

Tony finds it within himself to laugh. The water is at their chins. “I know, kiddo. But you don’t have to be afraid anymore. We’ve got each other now.”

“Tony-”

“Go.”

The water rises over his mouth. He wouldn’t be able to answer even if he wanted to. Then Tony’s head is submerged, and icy terror closes around Peter’s heart.

He dives under and reaches once more for the weight on Tony’s leg. He pulls and struggles and feels Tony’s hands on his arms, trying to pry him off and pull him away. The light is gone in the murky water.

Please. Please.

The concrete shifts. It takes everything in Peter not to gasp out at the pain it causes, to waste the precious air he has left.

Please.

It shifts again. Tony has given up on trying to push him off and is instead helping to lift the weight. Just a little bit more.

Peter screams, tiny bubbles escaping and carrying whatever he had left away. His body loses strength just as the concrete is alleviated. He thinks he feels Tony’s hands close around his numb body. But really he can’t be sure.

Tony is safe.

And it’s all that matters.

-------

“Peter. Don’t do this.”

“Breathe, Queens. Oh God-”

“Steve. What do I- I can’t- I can’t-”

“Keep the compressions going, Tony. Keep going okay? Don’t stop.”

“I can’t do it without him. I need him, Steve. I need-”

“Keep it together. He’s going to be fine. Right, Peter? You’re going to be fine. You just have to breathe for us.”

“Kiddo. Baby. Please.”

It’s all water down a drain.

A swirling, murky mess.

And it takes Peter with it.

-------

Parenting for Dummies: Chapter 12.

Love them unconditionally.

Tony hasn’t left his kid’s side for hours. He’s been glued to him, the boy’s limp hand pressed between his own like a lifeline even when the doctor’s had worked to splint his leg. Every breath, every rise and fall of Peter’s chest is a miracle, and Tony stares at the heart monitor until his eyes burn.

May is dozing in a recliner in the corner, her glasses crooked on her face. It’s just nearing three in the morning.

There’s movement behind him, and Tony turns to find Steve. He’s traded his hospital gown for a pair of loose sweats and a white shirt, the skin on his arms wrapped with thick bandages. The Captain turns and sees May. When he speaks, his words are almost a whisper. “How is he?”

Tony shrugs, a sudden lump monopolizing in his throat. “He’ll be okay.”

“Has he woken up yet?”

“No.”

Steve sighs. He limps to Tony’s side, but still manages to keep some distance. “He was brave today.”

“If by brave you mean dumb, then yes.”

“He saved our lives. We both know that you wouldn’t have been able to blast out of there by yourself.”

Dread sits heavy in Tony’s gut, because it’s true. He would’ve said anything to get Peter to safety. His blasters weren’t recharging. Weren’t even close to functioning.

But the kid had been too selfless for his lie. Really, Tony shouldn’t be surprised.

And now every time he closes his eyes he sees Peter. Hurt, small, Peter. Jerking with the last of his energy to free Tony. Of going limp in the water, no more air leaving his lips and remaining totally unresponsive as Tony fought to return the life to him.

“I wish it didn’t have to be him,” Tony says.

“But it is. It was.”

“I know.”

Steve lays a hand on Tony’s shoulder. He’s too tired to flinch away from it. “Let me know when he wakes up.”

And then he leaves.

Tony runs his thumb over Peter’s knuckles. “Wake up,” he says. Pleads.

But with his usual stubbornness, Peter doesn’t show signs of waking for another hour. First his fingers twitch. Then he groans. His eyelids flutter and Tony nearly collapses in his relief. Soft and weary eyes turn to find him, and Peter’s lips turn into a smile.

“You’re okay,” he murmurs.

“You have no idea how angry I am with you right now,” Tony says, but any heat behind his words is lost behind his relief. Peter must see it because his smile only widens.

“You don’ look angry.”

“Furious?”

“Nope.”

“Enraged?”

Peter laughs, then winces. He looks down and notices Tony’s hand clamped on his own. “I’m really glad you’re okay.”

“Well, the feeling’s mutual.”

Peter looks up. Tony tightens his hold.

“Maybe I don’t have Parker luck after all.”

“We’re breaking the cycle,” Tony agrees. He lifts Peter’s hand and presses a firm kiss to the back of his hand. Peter smiles again.

“Pepper told me you bought a parenting book,” he says, eyes drooping.

“That woman is nothing but a liar.”

“Mm. I believe her.”

“Sorry to break it to you kid, but whoever would want to willingly parent a danger seeking, heart attack inducing kid like you would have to be crazy.”

Peter squeezes Tony’s hand. “Sorry to break it to you, but I guess that means you're crazy.”

Tony’s heart compresses with warmth. “Yeah kid,” he says, “I guess I am.”

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

#peter parker #spider-man #tony stark #irondad #irondad fic #hurt peter parker #peter parker whump #protective peter parker #bamf peter parker #protective tony stark #steve rogers #captain america

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titan-fodder · 3 years

Text

Prima Vista Part II

[ previous ]

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 10.2k

Warnings: specific character attributes (not appearance, mentioned favorite color, movie, etc.), oral, rough sex, multiple orgasms, Erwin is kind of annoying, semi-exhibitionism, too much testosterone A/N: And, here we go again. Thank you to everyone who enjoyed the first part and told me about it. This one’s for y’all~

Mike immediately notices when you start to avoid him. You had already been doing it, but now it's to the point of ducking into buildings you have no business being in and walking a little too briskly when you catch sight of him somewhere on campus. You also won't get anywhere near the Pi Kappa Alpha house.

And, he gets it. He fucked up that night. Or, he didn't fuck up, but he opened up. Too much. Showed that he was willing to be vulnerable, and you obviously had not liked that.

The first week of watching you duck and cover from afar isn't so bad. He's a little bummed, yeah, but he figures you'll come around, if not for him then at least for his dick.

But, one week turns to two, and Mike gets irritated, a little angry even. Because it's not like he did anything wrong. It's not like you haven't wanted it every time.

He doesn't know your class schedule exactly, but he does know when you get out of your 11 AM and have to cross the courtyard to your dorm. It's where Mike caught you last time when he was playing frisbee with Nile, and it's where he catches you now.

Your speed walking is no match for his normal stride, and he easily closes the distance between you two and grabs your wrist to tug you toward a more private area by the library.

"What the fu—what are you doing?" You spit, pulling yourself free.

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to get to my fucking room to nap! Is that okay?"

Mike ignores it, glances over his shoulder to make sure no one is watching, then asks, "Why are you avoiding me?"

Scoffing, you mumble an unconvincing, "I haven't been avoiding you."

"Bullshit."

"I've just been busy, okay? Midterms are coming up, and I'm falling behind…" He can tell you're lying by the way you can't meet his eyes. "I need to focus."

"Am I that big of a distraction?"

You don't miss a beat—"Yes," and your eyes widen at your own answer like you're surprised by it.

Mike raises his eyebrows, taken off guard, and you try to cover your tracks. "I mean, like, I don't have time to be fucking frat boys. And, I know you have the pick of the litter, so it's not like you'll go without."

He has to bite his tongue, a confession right on the tip of it—I pick you—but knows that's the last thing you want to hear. It's too early for thoughts like that anyway. You're too closed off, and he's too transparent. It's not like anything serious could work out anyway, and even if it could, he shouldn't tie himself down.

"I mean, yeah, but—"

You hold a hand up, take a deep breath. "Look, I'll be honest with you. You seem like an okay guy, but you should find some other girl to do this with. I don't wanna be another notch on your bedpost—"

"Then, don't be. We can just hang out."

"Yeah, we tried that at the party and still ended up sleeping together."

"We can make it a rule then." He's trying too hard, he knows, but he can't help it. "No fucking. I won't come onto you, and you won't come onto me."

You snort and pick at the hem of your shirt, obviously not buying any of this. "Why do you wanna be friends so bad anyway? Is it the hard-to-get thing? Is it that I'm making it difficult?"

"Maybe but not entirely."

Why does he want to be your friend so badly? You haven't given him any real reason to. You can bond over nerd shit here and there, but other than that, you don't have a lot in common.

You just seem… Cool. Aloof. Like you don't give a shit about anyone or anything, and Mike never thought he'd find that attractive in a girl, but apparently he does.

"Just come over one more time. We can watch something again or—"

"I'm not going into your room again!"

"You don't have to," Mike says, speaking with his hands to emphasize his point. "We can stay in the living room. Totally public. Any of the guys could walk in."

"Has that ever stopped any of you before?"

Not a hundred percent of the time. Mike has definitely seen more of Erwin and Gelgar than he'd like, but he can tell a little white lie.

"Yes."

You stare up at him, a skeptical look on your face, and then, "I'll see if I can pencil you in."

"Fuck yeah, I promise I'll show you a good time without, like, showing you a good time."

"Yeah, whatever."

You're unimpressed, turn to walk away, but Mike is feeling a little too triumphant, a little too bold, and catches you before you can get too far.

He premises, "Just to get it out of my system," then bends down and kisses you. Palms covering your cheeks, fingers curling around the back of your head kisses you. He uses both of his thumbs, just under your mouth, to part your lips so that he can slide his tongue past them, and you push at his chest half-heartedly, no real force to it as you let him lick into your mouth.

The first whimper that escapes you is what makes you break away, your hands stronger against him to shove him back, and Mike smirks when you glare at him.

"You're on thin fucking ice, Zacharias. Thin ice."

"I'll keep it in mind."

With that, you leave the little alcove the two of you were in, grumbling and cursing the whole way. Mike just watches the sway of your hips and licks his lips.

You come over on a Saturday afternoon. Mike can tell you've tried to make yourself look not cute in loose, ripped jeans and a t-shirt, but it doesn't work. Mike still smiles, and you still roll your eyes at him before kicking your shoes off by the door.

"Okay, so what are we doing?" You ask, sitting two cushions away from him on the couch.

"I brought my Switch in here, so we have that…"

"Oh, do you have the SNES games downloaded?"

"Dumb question. Of course I do."

"Rude. Open that shit up."

He does, and you demand to play Donkey Kong, which Mike has no problem with, but, "A please would be nice."

You click your tongue, holding your hand out for the second tiny controller and tell him, "You don't get to hear me beg anymore."

Mike feels his shorts tighten, but all he does is kick a foot over his thigh and warn you, "Best not test my self-control like that."

"Is that a threat?" You laugh, toggling down to 'Two Player' on the screen and clicking it.

"Not a threat." He bobs his head to the theme music. "Just lettin’ you know."

You get as far as Mine Cart Carnage together, but Mike ends up getting tossed from the cart, leaving you to take over as Diddy. He watches the way you move with your character, sitting up straighter, raising the controller to your chest, swaying one way then the next as if your body is tied directly to the game.

Erwin walks in a little while later when you're focused on Stop & Go Station. He sits down in a plush chair, phone in his hand that he ignores in favor of asking, "What are you guys doing out here? Shouldn't you be in Mike's room?"

Mike glances at him, gives him a look and shakes his head, but you're much less subtle when you snap, "Can it, Smith," eyes never leaving the screen.

"Don't count on that," Mike snorts. "I think it’s physically impossible for him to keep his mouth shut for longer than four seconds."

"Wooow," Erwin drawls, thick eyebrows high in offense. "I'm supposed to be able to trust you, and now you're just talking shit right in front of me."

"For some reason, I get the feeling your ego can't get bruised that easily," you muse out loud.

"I'll have you know I can be very sensitive," Erwin informs you matter-of-factly. "I have a heart. I have feelings. And, I've been told on multiple occasions that I'm more considerate than most men, so there."

You laugh, a silly sound that gets stuck in your throat. "Oh, really? And how many of those women—'cause that's what they are, I'm sure—were left behind after they built you up like that, hm?"

Biting both of his lips, Erwin sits back in his chair and crosses his arms. "I plead the fifth on that one."

"Uh huh, that's what I thought."

While you're fixated on the screen, Mike glances over at his friend, sees blue eyes shining as Erwin stares at you, a tell-tale smirk on his face. He's amused by you. Interested, even.

You stay for about an hour longer before going back to the dorms. As soon as the front door shuts, Mike swivels around and points a finger at Erwin, uttering a low, "Don't you dare," that makes the blond chuckle.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

You mostly hang out on weekends and only in small bursts. Alternating between movies and video games, it's a little hard to speak to one another, but Mike is still able to pry some information out of you and share more about himself.

You're majoring in geological and earth sciences while Mike is working toward a degree in environmental science— "Kinda weird we haven't run into each other before."

You played basketball for a year in high school before getting annoyed by the other girls. Mike, on the other hand, made some of his best friends on his old soccer team.

You had a ferret growing up and now you'll "Never get another pet again 'cause when he died, I died a little with him." (It's the first time Mike has ever seen tears in your eyes, but you blink them away at record speed). He tells you about the dogs his family has had and how the one at home with his parents now is actually his. (Her name's Scout, and I would take a bullet for her.")

Hitch is your best friend even though she irritates the shit out of you, and Mike says something similar about Erwin. "He's a good guy. He's just… Passionate about so many things. He gets obsessive. Drives me insane."

"Obsessed with that pussyyy," you joke in a deep, stupid voice.

Mike snorts, "Perv," and keeps watching the movie that's playing.

And, speaking of movies, your favorite Disney film is The Fox and The Hound— "Good taste," while his is Lion King— "Classic." As far as other movies, though, the two of you spend half an hour arguing over which Mel Brooks is the best, end up having to agree to disagree (Young Frankenstein vs. High Anxiety).

Your favorite color is green. Your favorite food is pizza (“What are you, twelve?”). Your favorite animal is the pangolin. They’re all little facts that Mike stores away, and by the end of the semester, he actually feels like he kind of knows you, and somehow, against all odds, you've managed to not hookup through it all.

That's not to say it hasn't been hard (that he hasn't been hard). Sometimes you come over in skin tight jeans or crop tops, outfits that accentuate your body in all the right ways, and Mike is pretty sure that you do it on purpose.

You're both careful not to drink too much at parties, aware of the likely consequences, but you hang around him enough to gain people's attention—jealous girls watching in disappointment, curious guys sizing you up.

Questions inevitably arise. You complain about Hitch pestering you for details that you will not give her, and he tells you how he has to keep brushing off his brothers.

"She doesn't, like, know we've had sex—would never fucking leave me alone if she did. But she and all her other little friends are so annoying about it."

You're on the steps outside of the frat house, jackets zipped up, nursing steaming cups of cocoa you got from the nearby shop.

"So, what do you tell them?" Mike asks.

You shrug your shoulders. "That we're not fucking. Just friends. They don't believe me, but that's my story, and I'm sticking to it, dammit."

Mike laughs through his nose and takes another drink. "I mean, it's not a lie since we're not fucking and we are friends."

You make a high pitched noise, doubtful, challenging. "Friends is a strong word."

"Whatever."

He's used to you doing that now, denying him every chance you get even in a joking way. You've never once admitted to any type of feelings out loud, and he isn't sure why, some kind of avoidance behavior, but he won't complain because he knows you're at least a little fond of him. You wouldn't keep spending time with him if you weren't.

Deciding to change the subject, Mike prompts, "So, Erwin's party over the break," and you glance at him over your cup with interest. "You're coming, right?"

"I don't know. Isn't it at, like, his ranch house in bum fuck nowhere?"

"Kinda. It's only about a two hour drive from here, but it's definitely off the beaten path."

"I'll have to see. Need to spend time with my mom while I can."

Understandable. He's looking forward to seeing his own parents (and Scout, of course).

The last game of the season is played and won, then finals pass after too many all-nighters and too much Red Bull. Mike actually sighs in relief when he slides into his white Wrangler, all packed up and ready to make the drive back to his house.

He sends one text before pulling out onto the main road—Be safe—and hopes he won't have to wait an entire month to see you again.

Staying with your mom is nice but always slightly depressing. The house is empty with just her in it, less lived in than ever before. You can tell exactly which spots she spends most of her time in—her office to work and the couch in front of the TV to wind down.

You sleep in your old bedroom, spend most evenings texting Hitch after your mom goes to bed, but a few conversations with Mike slip in too. He sends you several pictures of Scout—beautiful but always wearing one of those perpetual Boxer frowns—and in return, you send him pictures of the pretty betta your mother has in her office. It's the best you can do.

After a week of being in your hometown, you're ready to leave it again. It's not terrible or in a bad part of town. It's just… lacking. You'd never tell your mother this, but you have a feeling she knows. It's probably why she doesn't put up a fight when you tell her you're gonna run off for a couple days to attend Erwin's party.

"I promise I'll be back. It's just one night and then the drive back."

Her tone is very serious when she tells you to stay out of trouble, but then she walks you out to your car and hugs you, watching and waving as you drive away.

You text Erwin on the way there to ask if it's okay to arrive early—like a few hours early cause I needed to get out of my house—and he replies enthusiastically.

Absolutely! Mike and Levi are already here 😃

You have no idea who this Levi is outside of hearing Erwin mention him a few times, but you very quickly find out when you get to the large but secluded house. You see Erwin's stupid (gorgeous) vintage Mustang parked in the gravel driveway as well as Mike's white Jeep and an unfamiliar, black Prius.

All three of them are on the porch occupying outdoor chairs that probably cost more than your fucking dorm expenses, but Mike and Erwin both stand when you make your way up the sidewalk. Staying seated, or really sprawled out with his hands behind his head, is a fairly small man (boy, maybe) with inky hair and sunglasses covering his eyes. He’s dressed much differently than the other two, ripped jeans, Doc Martens, and a striped long sleeved shirt under a short sleeved band tee.

“What in the e-boy fuck…” You mutter to yourself, nodding at the blonds and letting Mike take your backpack—not that you really have a choice considering your grip on it is no match for his.

“Was the drive okay?” He asks, swinging the bag over his shoulder and making it look incredibly small.

“Yeah. Once I hit the backroads I could start going, like, eighty-five, so that shaved some time off.”

Mike snorts. “You sound like Erwin. Dude’s always speeding.”

“Don’t fucking start with me. I was in the car with you when you almost hit a pedestrian on a crosswalk.”

“We don’t talk about that.”

Everyone follows Erwin inside the house. It’s just as nice as you thought it’d be, sprawling and open with wood floors, plush furniture, and rustic decorations. There are moose antlers mounted in one room and a god damned bear head in another. It makes you roll your eyes, but to say you’re unimpressed would be a flat out lie.

“Not everyone is staying the night, but I know you have to, so just pick an upstairs room,” Erwin tells you after the grand tour. “I can take you around on the golf cart once you settle in.”

You see Mike roll his green eyes and amend, “We can take you around.”

“Yeah,” Erwin nods. “That’s what I meant.”

Levi is making a face up at Erwin, furrowed brow, squinty eyes, and a little grimace. He hasn’t said more than two words to you since you’ve arrived (“I’m Levi.”), but he doesn’t seem like the chatterbox type, a little more standoffish, and you can’t blame him for that.

“Just in case you’re wondering, I’m in the middle room,” Mike tells you with a grin.

“And why, pray tell, would I be wondering that?”

He basically sings in his deep voice, “No reason,” then walks back downstairs with Erwin and Levi, leaving you to make yourself comfortable.

You take the bedroom at the far end of the hallway out of spite more than anything, but you figure the farther away you can be from Mike the better. After setting your things down and organizing deodorant, perfume, and every day jewelry on the dresser, you join the guys downstairs to find them huddling over the kitchen island talking about plans for the night.

“Should we get a keg? It won’t be that many people, but it might be easier to just pour from one,” Erwin thinks out loud.

“Don’t bother getting a keg if it’s gonna be the same shitty beer you guys have at Pike parties,” you chime in, hip checking Mike so that he’ll scoot over and allow you join their little meeting.

Levi lets out a little laugh, the most expressive you’ve seen him so far, while the other two pout at your criticism.

“Why don’t you pick the beer then?” Erwin prompts. “Since you have such refined tastes.”

Eyebrows lifting, you laugh. “Oh, we’ve got a smartass in the house tonight.” The blond smirks and dusts off his shoulders, making Mike groan in either annoyance or embarrassment. You can’t be sure which one.

“Fuck, is this what it’s always like between you three?” Levi asks, looking between all of you. “Just constant bickering?”

“More or less.”

“That seems exhausting.”

“It is,” you confirm. “‘S’why I can only hang out with them in small doses.”

“Ouch.”

“Wounded.”

“Anyway,” you let your head hang so that all they can see is your shoulders shaking as you giggle, and when you look back up, you make sure that the smile is mostly wiped from your face. “I’m not saying I’m some kind of beer expert, but I at least know that the shit you serve at parties is rancid.”

“And yet, you always seem to forget,” Mike teases. “I always end up having to finish yours.”

“You don’t have to. You choose to, you fucking alkie.”

It’s hard to come to any sort of decision with the non-stop push and pull of the conversation, and eventually Levi just walks away to let the three of you work it out. Erwin orders a keg of Rolling Rock, says something about, “Dad won’t mind me splurging a little since I downsized this whole thing for him,” and you scoff at him.

He’s well aware of his privilege, talks about it in an ironic manner that’s both maddening and hilarious— “Father is going to let me take the yacht out this weekend,” and, “Oh, that’s not country club appropriate.” It makes you laugh every fucking time, but it also usually earns him a smack or two.

The next few hours are spent gathering party supplies and getting the house ready (as in moving some furniture around and hiding valuables). Erwin leaves to pick up the keg after assuring the vendor on the phone that he can drive to them and pay extra for the short notice. You don’t know how he manages it, but you assume his confidence has a lot to do with it.

Only about twenty people are supposed to come, “An Erwin Smith exclusive,” Mike jokes with you as you stash a couple of vases in the kitchen cabinets.

“Oh, does that mean I’m special?” You play.

“Absolutely.”

There’s something churning in your gut as you move around downstairs with Mike and Levi, an omniscient feeling, like you know how the night will end, but you’re going to fight it every step of the way. You’ve made it this long without a slip-up, and you’re determined to make it one more night.

Erwin gets back with about three hours to spare. He and Mike disappear to change into what you assume to be their usual douche-y attire, and you and Levi sit alone in the large living room waiting quietly.

You’re surprised when he speaks first, stating, “You don’t seem the sorority type.”

Turning, you try to make sense of it, respond, “Well, I’m not.” You’re almost offended that he’d even consider you were.

“Then what are you doing hanging around with those frat boy fucks?”

“Oh, that.” You sigh. “Uhh, my friend made me go to one of their parties, and I just… Made an impression, I guess.”

“You fucked one of ‘em, didn’t you?” Levi is smirking, so sure of himself that you don’t really see the point in denying it.

“Yeah.”

“Rich boy or the giant?”

You look over at him, defenses rising like they did your first night in the Pi Kappa Alpha house. “The fuck is it to you?”

Holding his hands up, Levi chuckles, “Alright, alright, forget I asked.”

You cross your arms over your chest, stare off as you wonder if it’s actually that hard to tell. You figured it would be obvious that you’re more comfortable with Mike than with Erwin, but you have been getting more used to the other brazen blond over the last few months, just like you’ve been getting a little more used to Nile and all the other brothers. You haven’t sucked any of their dicks, though.

“How’d you meet Erwin?” You try.

You’re not surprised when Levi snarks, “The fuck is it to you?”

You can’t tell if the two of you are going to leave this ranch house as mortal enemies or as friends, but it’ll definitely be one of them.

“‘Cause you don’t seem the type to hang out with them either,” you tell him.

It's definitely odd. He and Erwin have to go back some time to have been able to stick together through their college years and all of their superficial differences.

Levi admires the black polish on his nails then informs you in a bored tone, “We’ve been friends since we were kids, but it’s no big deal. Just can’t get rid of him.”

The corner of his mouth turns upward, so he can’t be too heartbroken over it. You understand that, haven’t quite been able to shake your puppy-dog of a friend since the beginning of the semester, but you’re not as annoyed about it as you pretend to be.

“They certainly do get attached,” you hum.

The two men in question join you once again, looking much more palatable in jeans and v-necks. Erwin has a button-down hanging open and rolled up to his elbows while Mike is wearing a black and white flannel in similar fashion. It’s the most casual they’ve been at a party, and you can’t help but joke, “Wow, look at you two. More human, less lizard people for once.”

Erwin rolls his eyes while Mike mumbles a Doctor Who reference that makes you suck on the inside of your cheek to keep from grinning.

He’s got his charm turned on tonight, the kind that appeals to you, which will definitely pose a problem.

People start arriving at around eight, some you recognize from the college, some you don’t who you assume to be some of Erwin’s older friends. Gelgar taps the keg within minutes of walking in then plays the role of bartender for the next ten minutes as everyone lines up for a drink. There’s liquor and mixers set up on the counter, and you consider just making your usual, but you figure you should have at least a little of the beer since you’re the one who fought for the more expensive brand.

When you get your cup, foam nearly overflowing past the rim, you take one sip only to cough it back up when Mike shows off his usual party trick—appearing out of thin air—and asks, “You gonna finish it this time?”

You splutter as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand then glare up at him. “I’m gonna try, but it’s gonna be pretty fuckin’ difficult if you keep making me spit up like a god damn baby.”

He’s amused, light eyes dancing mischievously, and you know you’re in for a long night.

Erwin has a playlist filtering through the house’s sound system, a nice balance of several different genres playing at a bearable volume for the first time. Games start up in the kitchen, rage cage around the island, beer pong at the table, and while you’re content to just wallflower in the corner, Mike drags you into it.

“You’re just as bad as Hitch," you complain, but he isn't fazed, just plants you in an open spot at the island and stands right beside you. He's gonna regret doing that; rage cage is one of the only competitive games you're actually good at, but he'll find that out.

It's fast-paced, full of screaming and laughing, jumping and shoving. You get to slam your cup into Mike's on several occasions, drawing curses from him every time.

"Honestly, it's a little embarrassing," you ridicule with a smile.

He downs the small amount of beer in the cup he pulls, adds it to the stack, then challenges, "I'll show you embarrassing. Just wait."

You've had maybe two beers altogether, but it still sends a jolt down your spine.

The two of you play another couple of rounds, and Mike does seem to catch on a little more, but he eventually bows out and pulls you away with him.

More beer. Meandering around the party. It's pretty tame in comparison to all the Pike events you've attended, but the later it gets, the rowdier everyone becomes. Music gets turned up to dance. The keg stops being used for pouring and starts being used for stands. You have the absolute pleasure of watching Erwin hold Levi upside down as the smaller man chugs as much as he can. He beats Nile's record, raises his arms in victory as Erwin shakes him by the shoulders in excitement.

"They're pretty close, yeah?"

Mike looks down at you as you stand on your tip-toes to get closer to his ear as you speak.

He nods. "I don't really understand them, but yeah. They've been friends since, like, elementary school, I think."

"No shit?"

"No shit."

You play beer pong against Gelgar and Nile, end up losing by quite a lot, and by the time you finish the remaining cups and another full drink, you're feeling good. Warm, happy, dangerously giggly.

Mike stands too close as you make your rounds to talk to people, many of them asking how the lacrosse season went. He puffs his chest a little, tries and fails to act modest, but instead of getting irritated like you usually do, you find yourself resting your cheek against his arm as you shake your head. You don't know if the action is to disagree with him or to get closer, but it makes Mike chuckle and shift so that he can wrap that arm around you and pull you to his chest instead.

He smells nice—woodsy with a sweet little bite. It makes your mouth water. You try to call back your determination from before, that readiness to fight and deny, but Mike's body is firm and massive and hot against yours, and he's also drunk and smiling sideways. His eyes are hazy and gorgeous when he peers down at you. His stubble has grown into that perfect length, the kind that feels incredible between your legs, and you can already see your hands tugging at his shaggy hair as he flips it from his face.

"You okay?" He rumbles, tongue darting out to lick his lips.

He knows. You know he knows. And, he knows that you know that—

Fuck. Stop. Just…

"What do you think?" You're aware of what you're saying. The words make perfect sense. You just can't stop them from falling from your mouth is all.

"I don't know," Mike says, a playful lilt to his voice. "Why don't you tell me?"

You're not sure if he's asking for your consent or if he just wants to humiliate you by making you spell it out for him.

"I mean…" Your gaze travels from his face to his neck to his pecs and downward. "The semester is over."

"It is," he agrees, hand moving from your waist to your hip.

"Don't really need to be, uh… What's the word…" You squeeze your eyes shut, splaying your fingers on his stomach. "Studious," you snap. "Don't need to be so studious on vacation."

Mike very slowly starts walking backwards toward the staircase, holding you at arms length by both your hips now.

"No, you really don't."

Voice of reason fading away, you step around him but grab his hand, taking the stairs two by two until you're on the balcony that wraps above the living room. Once you slip into the closer room, yours, you lock the door.

Mike's mouth is familiar in its desperation—tastes like beer and want and him. He pulls his flannel off behind him by the sleeves just in time for you to start pushing his shirt up over his abs, in awe all over again at the muscle group.

It's really not fair.

You pause between kisses to strip, smiling and groaning whenever your lips meet again. You've missed it on some level—the heat, the fucking attraction you just can't shake. All the times you hung out with him, purposely keeping distance, avoiding flirting and touching and staring—you figured it would come to a head. You even guessed there was a good chance that it would be at this party.

But, that doesn't mean you're prepared when he throws you onto the bed, doesn't prepare you for the way he bites your lip and sucks on your neck and pinches your nipples until you moan his name and grind against him, and it certainly doesn't prepare you for the way he spreads your legs, runs his nose up the inside of your thigh, then drags his tongue over your slit.

"Fuck, Mike."

He groans, quick to slide the muscle into your pulsing cunt to taste you. His fingertips are digging into the fat of your thighs, keeping you still save for your trembling which makes the feeling of his mouth even more intense. You want to buck against his face, want to put out the fire raging inside of you by moving somehow, letting some of the energy out, but you can't. All you can do is lay there as Mike licks around your hole and nibbles at your clit and laps up your juices.

"Missed this fuckin' pussy," he breathes, sucking on one of your lips and then the other, pulling blood to the surface and making them puffy and sensitive.

You card fingers through his hair before fisting your hand in it and shoving his face further into your cunt, trying as hard as you fucking can to ride any part of him you can manage—his tongue, his nose, anything that will give you friction.

The sound he makes at your pathetic attempt is bestial, a low, throaty grunt as he rubs his chin up and down your slit, drenching himself in your slick and quickly overstimulating your swollen clit with his stubble.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck—"

"You wanted it," he grits. "You pushed your sloppy little cunt right in my face, so now you've gotta take everything I give you."

You cry as he continues the motion, pussy drooling as the little bud starts to grow raw. "Mike, please, please…"

"Gonna make sure you feel this tomorrow." He stops only to lean back down and suck your clit into his mouth. The tip of his tongue is soft in comparison to the coarse hair, but it still makes your hips twitch, and when he grazes his teeth over it, you squeal and kick.

It's so close to hurting, right on the edge, but it's that helplessness that has you steadily leaking on the bed. It's what makes it easy for Mike to push a finger into your clenching hole, pump a couple times, then slide another one in beside it.

Your climax is coiling in your gut, compressed like a spring and only getting tighter with every thrust of long, thick fingers and every measured flick of his tongue.

Gripping his hair again, you ride it out. Mike loosens his grip just enough to allow you to undulate in time with the waves that wash over you, and you moan loudly as he moves to flatten his tongue over your entrance so that you come on and against it.

He gives you some time to settle down, but you know he isn't done yet, and since you're not quite ready to take his cock in your sensitive pussy, you pull your legs from the sides of his head and crawl to lay with your head off the side of the bed.

Mike gets the picture immediately, and you hear a huff of air leave him all at once before he clambers off the mattress to position himself at the edge. You're a little too low, so he grabs all four pillows to shove under you, and as he does, you lavish his bobbing cock with kitten licks, going as far as sucking on his balls when he leans over you.

"Jesus fucking—"

You can feel the way they tighten, his cockhead dripping pre that lands just below the notch of your sternum. It isn't until he's thoroughly coated in spit that you stop and let him straighten, then open your mouth and relax your shoulders.

Mike is careful as he slides his tip past your lips, letting you adjust to the weight of his cock in your mouth before he pushes in a little further. Your eyes start watering as soon as he passes between your molars, making you stretch your jaw and drool from the corners of your mouth.

He pulls out then, taps his cockhead on your cheek, leaving a mix of precum and spit on your skin before lining himself up again and sliding back in.

He repeats the process a few times as if it'll actually get you used to his size, but it's just not possible. You gag and gurgle, slurp back drool when you're given the chance, and your entire body throbs when Mike tells you, "I'm gonna give you more now, okay? Wanna see your throat bulge with my cock."

You moan around him, try to make the passage of your mouth and esophagus as straight as possible then let your eyes roll back as he slips into the tighter sleeve for a few seconds. Your toes dig into the bedspread, fingers clawing at the material as you fight back the panic that comes with not being able to breathe.

Mike pulls out panting, and you wish you could see his face, the look in his eyes, but you can't. All you can do is lap at his cock until he pushes it into your mouth again.

This time when he slips into your throat, he reaches down to press a hand to your neck, letting out a deep, disbelieving laugh as he feels the way his length moves in it. "Holy shit. I could—" he just barely gives you more, and your responding whine is completely muffled by him, "—Could come like this."

The thought makes you tingle. Or maybe that's the lack of oxygen. You are feeling a little lightheaded. But the idea of him coming down your throat, right into your stomach, fuck, it makes your cunt pulse again.

Mike pulls out, and you suck in deep breaths, a little sob making your chest heave. Tears are streaming from your eyes, getting caught in your hair, and you have to wipe other various fluids from your face.

He helps you sit back up, rubs your shoulders and kisses the back of your neck as your heart rate returns to normal. As soon as he sees you relax, though, he's tugging you from the bed and bending you over it.

The scream that's pushed from you is hoarse as you're split open on his cock. Mike holds you by the hair, pulling your head back as he snaps his hips forward and back relentlessly. He slides in and out of you easily, but that doesn't mean he isn't stretching you to your breaking point.

You shake on the bed, thankful when he lets go of your head so that you can fall back to the mattress, crying and moaning all you want.

"Feel so good, baby," Mike groans. "So good."

He punctuates it with a slap to your ass that causes you to squeeze him, and that only encourages him to repeat the action until both your cheeks are radiating heat and stinging from his hands.

He flips you like a doll, and you're finally able to see his face clearly as he stares down at you with a dropped jaw and heavy lids. You know you're a mess, fucked out and sloppy, but as he abuses your g-spot with the ridge of his cock, all you can do is grin drunkenly and let your eyes roll.

"So pretty when you smile," he praises. Fingers grip your chin, and when you're able to focus your gaze again you find Mike leaning over you, face level with yours. "Open your mouth for me." His tone is soft yet demanding, and you don't hesitate for a second as you do what you're told.

Mike pushes spit through his lips, letting it drip and stretch until it lands on your tongue. It makes you feel cheap and disgusting, but it doesn't stop you from squirting around him.

Devolving into nothing more than grunts and groans, Mike continues to fuck into you but straightens so that he can reach your clit better. He flicks it back and forth until your true orgasm hits you, and then he keeps going.

You cry out, squirm wildly beneath him, but all it results in is two fingers being shoved in your mouth. Stroking over the back of your tongue, more saliva pours from your mouth just like the slick that pours from your pussy while he toys with your clit.

You come again. And again. When Mike finally removes his hand from between your legs, you're nothing more than a puddle, moaning and crying for him.

Every orgasm has made your walls swell around him, his cock feeling longer and thicker than ever as he kisses your cervix with every thrust. That lightheaded sensation is back, white dots dancing around your eyes, and you just barely manage out his name, tapping in his forearm.

"Need… need…"

"What do you need, babe?"

Your arms curl up by your head, fingers moving and spasming as every one of your senses is overwhelmed.

"Need you to—t-to—to come. Need you to c-come."

You've never had to tap out before, but you can't take him anymore. His size. His expression. His lack of fucking mercy.

"Yeah?" He coos, but his cock is still dragging in and out of you. You nod, but Mike draws it out, asking, "Where do you want me to come?"

"Don't… Care…"

"You don't care?" He's still moving, fucking you absolutely stupid as he lists out, "Your face? Your tits?" He gropes your chest, pinching both nipples, and the fact that you don't even whimper must clue him into the fact that he's about to lose you.

Your mind is swimming, fading every time he pulls out only to be brought back online when he pushes back in.

"What about your pussy? Want me to come all over your pussy?"

You moan, the simplest part of your brain apparently finding that appealing, so after a few more thrusts, Mike pulls out entirely and jerks himself off until he covers your folds in hot cum. He gets some on your thighs, some on your pelvis, soaks your peaking clit so that you take in a stuttering breath.

His hand is between your legs again, fingertips spreading the viscous fluid around and dipping into your slit.

Your eyes shoot open for the first time in God knows how long, a panicked, "M-Mike," tumbling from your lips, but he hushes you.

"I'm not pushing it inside or anything. Just having fun."

And, fuck, tonight is the night you learn how filthy he is. Mike spends a few solid minutes rubbing his seed over your puffy lips, fingers the raw tissue around your hole so that you leak for him, then uses it to massage your clit slowly and softly, pulling one last orgasm from you that makes fresh tears spring in your eyes.

You're going to be in a world of pain tomorrow, but you can't regret it—not when your legs continue to shake long after your climax, not when you can already feel that satisfying ache deep inside of you, not when Mike crawls to sit on the bed and lifts you into his arms.

"You okay?" He asks into your hair.

He's rubbing soothing circles on your stomach as you drift in and out. You know you need to shower, but you're so tired and so wrecked, you doubt you'll be able to stand for long enough to clean yourself.

"Did I hurt you?"

"Mm, little bit," you tell him honestly. You can actually feel his heart start to beat harder in his chest, so you reassure him, "Liked it, though."

You think something like twenty minutes pass, but you can't be sure as you keep dozing. It's hard not to with Mike rubbing your stomach, his body rising and falling in rhythm with every breath he takes.

When your eyes open more than halfway, you begin to move, grimacing at the soreness between your legs as well as the mess.

"'m gonna hop in the shower," you announce.

Mike sits up too, stretches his arms and asks through a groan, "Want me to come with?"

"You've done enough coming tonight," you snort. "But nah, I can clean myself on my own."

His eyebrows furrow, but he doesn't say anything, just lets you get up and walk to the bathroom on shaky legs.

The hot water almost puts you back to sleep. You manage to rinse off where you need to, step back into the room fully expecting to see Mike passed out in your bed, but he's nowhere to be found.

As you crawl under the covers, you try to swallow the feeling of disappointment that's stuck in your throat.

Mike is up before almost everyone in the house the next morning, so he spends most of it trying to clean up alongside Levi, though he apparently isn't doing a very good job of it according to the smaller man.

"Jesus, have you ever mopped a floor in your life?"

"Oh, so we're just throwing everything in the same trash bag? No recycling? Your future kids will thank you for that, I'm sure."

"No, there's no way I’m letting you wipe down the counters. Just move."

Levi is lucky Mike is as laid back as he is otherwise he would have thrown the little fuck into the koi pond behind the house a long time ago.

Erwin wakes up around nine and walks down looking a little rough, but Mike has definitely seen him in worse states.

"Thanks for cleaning up," he says, bent over the island and holding his head in his hands. "Pretty sure I would have thrown up if I'd tried. Several times."

He tells the other two that pretty much everyone else started heading out at around three and that he has a list of party-goers he needs to text to make sure they made it home in one piece, "When I can actually fucking see straight."

Naturally, the conversation turns to Mike. Erwin, with his cheek now pressed against the cool, granite countertop, smirks up at him and asks in a sly voice, "So, how was your night?'

Mike bites his lip to hide a smile, leans out of the kitchen to make sure you aren't stumbling down the stairs or traipsing about the house, then looks back to his friend and laughs, "Fucking mind-blowing, dude." He doesn't go into explicit detail—that's never been his style—but he does whisper about you taking him better than any other girl and that he's, "Addicted, dude. I genuinely think I am addicted to her pussy."

"Don't be fucking dramatic, Zacharias," you pop out behind him, slapping his back as you pass him to get to the fridge. He can see the ghost of a smile turning your lips up, but it's hard to feel satisfied at that when his own face is beet red.

Looking at Erwin, Mike throws his hands out by his side, mutters an incredulous, "Dude," that makes the other blond chuckle.

You grab a water bottle from the refrigerator, making Levi grumble, "Are none of you guys concerned about the planet? God damn."

Standing between Mike and Erwin, you take a few gulps, all eyes on you until you swallow and question, "Can I help you?" Now that you're right next to him, Mike can hear a scratchiness to your voice, almost as if you're getting sick, but he knows better, knows exactly where it came from, and fuck if it doesn't make him twitch in his sweats.

"Have a good time at the party?" Erwin pries once again.

You look at him with a deadpan expression, then answer, "Seems like you already got the deets, so sure. I had a grand time."

Mike isn't sure if you're being sarcastic about it just like you are everything else. You had just kind of left him hanging when you'd gone to shower. He hadn't thought too much into it even if he'd been a little bummed, but he thinks he understands. You just need more space than he does.

Or, it could have been that you hadn't enjoyed yourself. Oh god, what if you'd just been faking? What if you'd lied to him when he asked if he hurt you? What if you're in pain right now and just hiding it?

Mike zones out while you talk with Erwin and Levi about plans for the day, works himself into a nice little panic but is still able to hear you tell them you're just gonna head back to your mom's.

"You sure?" Erwin asks. "I know you only planned to stay one night, but you're more than welcome to hang out for longer. We’ll be here for at least another few days."

Levi adds an, "Unfortunately," that earns him a hair ruffle he swats away.

"No, it's cool. I can't leave mom alone for the holiday or she'll start to think I don't like staying at the house."

"You don't, though."

"Yeah, but she doesn't have to know that."

Mike stares after you as you take your water bottle and return upstairs, and it doesn't escape the notice of the other two men.

"You're so fuckin' whipped, man," Erwin teases.

Mike doesn't deny it, just holds up a middle finger.

Erwin isn't entirely wrong, though. Mike has been trying to deny it or play it off as nothing more than lust, but there's more to his feelings at this point. He tries not to be obvious around you, to keep his cards close to his chest because he knows you just want to keep things casual—barely even want that if he's being honest.

So he can hide it. He can pretend it isn't happening. In fact, Mike should be thankful that you only want sex (sometimes) because it leaves him to do whatever he wants. He could fuck other chicks left and right, and you wouldn't even bat an eyelash. That's a good thing, right?

That worry about last night still has him on edge, though, so before you can leave, Mike catches you in your room as you're packing up and closes the door.

He expects you to make some kind of comment about not being able to go again, but all you do is tilt your head to the side in a dangerously cute way.

"Hey, I, uh… I just wanted to make sure you felt okay after last night."

You blink at him, pause in folding your clothes, then show a wide, real grin.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Sore in various places—like, super sore—but I'm fine."

Mike's mouth twists to hide his smirk, and he mumbles a low, "Sorry."

"Don't ever apologize for your monster cock," you tell him, setting your shirt down on the mattress before pacing over to him. "Like, unless there's tearing of some sort, which there really shouldn't be since you're good at preparation, whoever you fuck should be okay. Sore but okay."

His eyes go a little wide when you stop in front of him, looking up with an expression he's really never seen before—or maybe that you've never allowed him to see before—and the longer he stares, the more he realizes that you're god damn glowing.

Taking a chance, he finds your waist with his hands, inches just a little closer, then leans down when you stand on your toes and tug him by the shirt.

You taste like peppermint and already smell like the perfume you wear every day, the scent that has made Mike dizzy for the past few months. He moves a hand to your back to press your body into his, and when you take his bottom lip into your mouth, biting and sucking, he groans and pulls back before he can get too hard.

"What's all this? Why are you so perky this morning?"

"I get giddy after good sex," you say with a shrug. "Sue me."

"That why you run away every time I fuck you?" He questions.

You nod. "Couldn't run away this time, though."

"I'm sure it's really bruising your pride, letting me see you all warm and gooey."

"I am not warm and gooey," you protest. "I was last night, but—"

"Aw, gross, why'd you have to say it like that?"

You giggle—giggle—then remind him, "You're the one who felt the need to fucking fingerpaint."

Mike vividly remembers the way your pussy looked covered in his cum, the way it felt to smear it and play with your swollen entrance and clit, and now… Now he is definitely hard again.

"Better stop before you end up on that bed again."

Your eyes are dancing, tone mischievous when you respond, "Only if you're gentle."

"Christ—"

He's got you naked and spread on the mattress in less than thirty seconds, tongue buried in your cunt as he soothes every part of you he can reach.

It would be cruel to actually fuck you again. He knows you're probably a little more tender than you're letting on, so Mike settles for licking into you and flicking your clit, never using teeth as it swells in his mouth so that you pant and moan, and promise, "I can handle it, Mike, I can…"

"I don't care if you can or can't. Just lemme do this."

And, it's not like he hasn't pulled his cock from his pants, pumping it and coating his length in the pre-cum he drips at the mere sight of you.

He can tell you're getting close when your thighs start to tense. You alternate between shifting your hips and going slack. It's the latter that you leak the most, pussy opening around his tongue only to clench a few seconds later.

"Just one finger, Mike, please, I want—I need something inside me, please, please," you moan.

Mike turns his face to kiss your thigh, sighing but giving in easily when he acquiesces, "Only one."

The noise you make as he slides his middle finger into you is like music, high pitched and drawn out, with an awe one would sing hymns with.

"Yes, yes, yes, thank you, fuck, tha—"

He understands why you wanted it so badly when he pulls it out and sees his finger coated in white, considers fucking you with it to the point of tears, but before he can, the door to the bedroom swings open and fucking Erwin walks in to ask, "Levi and I are going to the store—"

“Jesus fuck, Erwin!" Mike swears. "A little busy here!"

His friend is unfazed, but more importantly, you are too, arching your back, pulling Mike's hair to get him back where you want him, then moaning his name like you never have before as you come.

You tremble and take in stuttering breaths, and Mike does his best to hide your exposed pussy from prying eyes as he looks at Erwin and barks out a furious, "No, I don't need anything from the store. Get out."

The blond shrugs and turns, walking out without shutting the door, and Mike swears he's gonna kill him. He's too bold and too entitled and now he's seen far too much of your body, and Mike doesn't like that.

"Did you come?" You ask in an airy voice. Mike guesses you could feel the rhythm of his hand on his cock, probably pushing his face harder against you with every pass.

"Uh, no. I don't know if you noticed, but Erwin walked in."

"I noticed," you snort, sitting up on your elbows. "Why do you think I moaned your name like that?"

"What?" It had seemed a little odd. Mike knows he's pretty good at oral, but you've never made a sound like that before.

"Fucker wanted to see what we were up to, I decided to show him. Now he knows how good you are."

Mike stands, peers down at you skeptically and says, "You're being too nice to me today. It's freakin' me out a little."

He doesn't think it's necessary to add that Erwin is already aware of his sexual prowess considering they definitely had a threesome with a rather adventurous girl back in freshman year. It's just not pertinent information.

"Soak it up, Zacharias. I'm sure the good mood will be gone by tomorrow."

"Why, cause I won't be at your mom's to fuck you stupid every night?" His voice comes out cocky, but it's stifled by the way you squeal when he slaps a hand over your wet pussy.

"I'm sensitive, you asshole!" You're smiling even as you whine. "And, here I was about to give you head to get you off."

"I mean, you can still do that."

You glare up at him the whole time you slide off the bed to your knees, warn, "Better hope I don't bite."

After you leave (and after making out against Mike’s Wrangler for a little too long), he goes back inside to find Erwin and Levi lounging in the den with a movie playing. He wastes no time in snapping his fingers at Erwin and commanding, "We're gonna talk."

"Oh, are we?" Erwin doesn't even look away until Mike grabs the back of his shirt, and only then does he move from his spot. "Okay, okay, watch the wrinkles, bro."

He follows Mike into the kitchen, out of earshot unless either of them raise their voices which… Could happen.

"What the fuck was that?" Mike hisses.

Erwin looks at him with big blue eyes and plays dumb, "What the fuck was what?"

Taking a deep breath through his nose, Mike makes sure his voice comes out low and steady, "Smith, I swear to God, it's been a long time since I've punched you, but you're fuckin' testing me, dude."

Erwin smiles, face lighting up with what looks like excitement but could also be fury.

"Mike," he starts. "Don't tell me you're getting violent over a girl." His tone is patronizing, his eyebrows are high, and his grin is downright menacing.

"I haven't gotten violent yet," Mike grits.

"Hey, how was I to know what you two were doing up there?"

"It's not about you walking in, dude! It's about you just fucking standing there!"

Erwin chuckles and blows him off, "Mike, I've seen your dick before. You've got nothing to worry about."

"That's not what I'm worried about. You just, like, came in when she was in a vulnerable position, and that's fucked up."

"She didn't seem to mind."

Mike sucks his teeth, takes another grounding breath, then asks again, "Why? Why did you wait to leave?"

"You want me to be honest?" Erwin rolls his neck then his shoulders. Mike has seen him do that many times before lacrosse games to loosen up—to get ready for a fight.

Mike's fist clenches at his side. "Yeah, I do."

"You've been making yourself crazy over this girl since the start of the semester, and I want to know why."

"What do you mean?" Mike doesn't know why he asks, has a pretty good idea of what Erwin is alluding to.

The blond still dodges the question but in about the worst way possible. "It's not like you two are exclusive or anything."

Mike feels the way his lungs fill to the point of burning, how his jaw clenches until his molars begin to ache under the pressure, and before he really knows what's happening, he's bowing up to his best friend.

Erwin matches him, only a couple inches shorter, chin tilted, that maddening light in his eyes.

"Walk away, Mike," he warns. "And, we can forget this little spat even happened."

Mike peers down his nose at him, trying to rein in his emotions because Erwin is right. You two aren't exclusive. You don't want to be. You told him it was because you need to focus on school, but it could be that you want other options.

But fuck, Mike doesn't want Erwin to be one of them. He's stolen more than a few girls right from under Mike's nose with his stupid charm and stupid face and stupid money. He doesn't want you to fall prey to all of it too.

Mike doesn't even register the quiet footsteps padding into the kitchen, but Levi's smartass, "You guys about to kiss or somethin'?" definitely snaps him out of his head.

Stepping back, Mike resists the urge to punch the counter and break his fucking hand, then turns and strides out.

He's supposed to stay at the ranch house for a couple more days, but Mike needs to distance himself before he does something stupid.

When he comes back downstairs with his bag on his shoulder and his keys in his hand, Erwin seems to realize his error on at least some level and stands from his place on the couch.

"Mike, come on, I'm sor—"

"Let me cool off, dude,” Mike snaps.

Erwin shuts his mouth and sits back down, smart enough not to follow Mike outside.

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#mike zacharias x reader #miche zacharias x reader #aot x reader #aot fanfic #mels prima vista #mels frat house

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