#prepare your wallets lol
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ndostairlyrium · 1 year ago
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A little preview of the pic I've done for @daflowerzine 👀
You need to keep an eye on that, because of the care and quality of the writing and the illustrative works inside 💛🌸
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gutsby · 28 days ago
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Heavy Hitter
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Pairing: Little League Coach!Joel x Reader
Summary: A kick in the dick is a strange way to get a man’s attention, but Coach Miller doesn’t mind at all.
Warnings: 18+. Protected p-in-v. Oral (m!&f!receiving). Blunt testicular trauma turned semi-sweet meet cute. Light bondage vis-à-vis coach’s whistle. Soft dom!Joel. Overstimulation. Age gap. Size kink. Some discomfort during sex. Brief mentions of drug use, vomiting, & SA.
Note: Technically not necessary to understanding the plot, but lyrics/references to John Mellencamp’s ‘Hurts So Good’ are featured throughout, so I’d recommend giving it a listen! :-)
Another note: Amy’s was my go-to when I lived in Austin for a summer, but I have no clue if that’s where the locals go lol
Word count: 17.3k
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You woke Sunday morning with heatstroke, a hangover, and one very pissed off nine-year-old pinching your nose.
“GET UP!”
Your half-crusted eyes made as if to open, then failed. Shifting side to side in more of a grimace than a look, you squinted and spied your brother under a heavily lidded gaze and then caught sight of a uniform.
A baseball uniform.
Sam’s widely-loved Little League team, the Fireflies.
With an emblazoned logo of a lightning bug staring you right in the face, you realized at once you were fucked. You heard the shrill of your mother’s voice calling your name downstairs and knew you were double fucked.
You were supposed to be the one driving your brother to his game that day. But, rather than choosing wisely last night, you’d decided to play a two-for-one trainwreck and clusterfuck and drink yourself stupid until well past four o’clock in the morning. Now you were suffering the consequences—and would be feeling them tenfold if you didn’t get your ass out of the house and into the car with your brother before your mom stomped her way upstairs.
Without another word, you snagged your phone, your wallet, your keys, your purse, and your brother’s small arm to drag him behind you out the back door and left.
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The events of last night were still little more than a blur.
Even a half hour later, pulling into the packed parking lot of Wright Field with the full brunt of a Texas summer’s heat beating down on your shoulders, you remembered next to nothing. There were bits and pieces, no doubt—a quick pit stop at Mayor Garcia’s political rally at seven, a few beers at Djarin’s bar around nine, Tipsy Bison at…ten, maybe? You couldn’t be sure. Everything from the time you took a hit of Tess’s dab pen between bars and several more hefty swigs from Marlene’s flask in the street left the happenings of the full night fuzzy at best. A trace of spearmint on your tongue and some upbeat ‘80s tune replaying in fragments were all that remained.
You were in sweatpants you didn’t recognize. A black satin bodysuit you only vaguely remembered putting on and shoes you were half-certain were Tess’s. Glancing down at the strange ensemble while you put your truck in park, you were truly more lost than you’d felt in a long, long time. Your hangxiety was at an all-time high, too.
“Help me get the stuff,” Sam said, sliding out quick.
‘Stuff’ meaning the snacks it’d been his turn to pack for the team: pretzels, granola, muffins, and Goldfish, along with drinks and some over-the-top fresh fruit medley your mom had prepared that morning. Luckily, your brother had packed all the shit himself while you were passed out in your room. For that, you were grateful.
You tousled his hair while you watched him try and lug two full cases of Gatorade out of the bed of your truck. Sam made a face, casting a sidelong glance to the field to make sure none of his teammates could see him, then huffed as he dropped the cases to the ground at his feet.
“Okay, maybe—” He puffed his cheeks out again, reaching for a big YETI cooler that looked to be even heavier, “—maybe I should carry these over on my own.”
You stared at him, incredulous.
“You kiddin’? This is a ton of stuff, Sammy.”
Sam winced, whether from the weight of the cooler he was barely able to fit his arms around or the nickname you’d used, you weren’t sure. The hulking plastic cube pressed heavy on his chest as soon as he tried to slide it off the truck bed, and, swiftly, you secured your hands under the thing to help him lower it down to the ground.
It was heavy as shit. Your mom must’ve thrown in a thousand extra oranges while he wasn’t looking.
“Fuckin’ A,” you hissed.
“Language,” Sam chided.
The cooler hit the tarmac with a resounding thud.
“Sorry. Why, uh…why don’t you want my help, bub?” You were genuinely curious, and a tad hurt, that your brother seemed not to want you there—he always had before.
“‘Cause,” he said, kicking absentmindedly at a small patch of gravel, “Just don’t…need it right now, ‘s’all.”
“That’s a load of crap.”
“Is not!”
You rolled your eyes.
You reached for the big white cooler in spite of your brother and started to lift, when he tried yanking it away—‘I mean it, I can carry it myself!’—and you nudged him off. He nudged you back in more of a push, and you huffed sharply to back off, I got it, we’re gonna be late. He pushed you again, hard enough to cause the cooler to slip out from your fingers, and when the thing dropped again, this time on your toes, you let out a piercing yelp.
“Sammy!”
“Sorry!!”
You probably would’ve pushed back again—and likely started a slap war in the middle of the parking lot, like you and your brother had long been accustomed to doing—were it not for the sound of a voice cutting in, calling out to you both from a row of cars over:
“Y’all need some help?”
Motherfucker.
You didn’t even need to turn your head to know the owner of that voice. You shot Sam a lethal look.
“We’re good, David, thanks,” you called back.
The ‘thanks’ was nothing more than a courtesy for your brother. That creepy old cunt could eat shit and die.
You forced a smile as you watched the assistant coach of Sam’s team approach through two minivans nearby. He had his black athletic shorts pulled high above his belly button, Fireflies tee tucked in as neatly as any one man could hope to have it, and a baseball cap pulled snug atop his sparse, greasy, strawberry blond head of hair.
With just one grin from him in return, you knew he was still convinced he would get to fuck you at some point.
You wanted to vomit but had no food left in you to do it. You tasted spearmint in your mouth again, and that nameless tune you had stuck in your brain kept playing.
And, true to his irksome, meddling nature, Coach David swooped in and had both cases of Gatorade stacked on top of the cooler and the thing hauled up in his arms before you could stop him or speak a word in protest.
“Sam, help your big sis out and grab the waters, would ya?” He said, nodding to the truck bed with authority. Before he turned back around, he shot you a wink.
While Sam went crawling across the tailgate and tried wrangling the case of Aquafina into his arms, you felt a presence at your shoulder. Then a gaze searing shamelessly into your cleavage, which had been rendered far more exposed than normal in your bodysuit. You wiggled your top up a little, fighting back a scowl.
“Fun night?” David chuckled.
“The funnest,” you returned without humor.
Sam shouldered the weight of the water with some effort, letting out a sound that he was struggling.
“Lift with your legs, buddy,” David barked. Then, to you, “If you need help with anything else, just holler, alright?”
Another goddamn wink. What was it with middle-aged men and winking? Fortunately, he had the cooler and the drinks weighing him down, so he couldn’t stay for long. He did, however, make sure to bump your ass with his hip walking past, and afterward, you could’ve sworn you saw a smirk growing on his face with wretched pride. Then he strode off in the opposite direction, toward the field. Just when he was out of earshot from you both, Sam plopped down with the case of water. He frowned.
“That’s why I didn’t want your help,” he muttered.
“Huh?”
But you knew what he meant.
David was far from the first man who’d ever hit on you in front of your brother, and he certainly wouldn’t be the last. Sam despised it; almost as much as he hated every guy who even thought they had a shot, and made you plainly uncomfortable. Just as he was about to continue, —and as if to prove his point—a herd of preteen boys passed by. All of them waved, grins overtaking their smug, dumb, prepubescent faces as they yelled out:
“Hey, Sam!”
Then, of course, one brave soul waved to you and said:
“Hey, Sam’s sister!”
And the whole group snickered amongst themselves and slapped the brave soul’s shoulder in congratulations.
You already knew what Sam’s expression would be before you’d even turned around to face him again.
“Alright. You win. Tote your stuff over there, and I’ll just…wait in the truck,” you said, hands raised in surrender.
“Okay.”
Then Sam was gone, trotting after his teammates with the water bottles still sloshing around in his little arms. You watched him, almost forlorn, and felt a bit too much like your mother, overcome with a memory of some soft- rock song you still couldn’t name and the sense that your baby brother was growing up way too fast for your liking.
The scary thing was that someday he could turn out to be like David. His teammates. Or worse. Maybe grow up, tune into a few misogynistic, braindead alpha male podcasts, and become the same insufferable, woman-hating douche you both detested. The thought made you shudder to even consider, and you were fairly certain it read plain on your face as you slammed the tailgate shut and started back around toward the front of your truck.
Contemplating just how much you wanted to save your brother from that fate, you almost missed something huge through the open back window on your way.
Glistening in the sun a neon green: Sam’s bag.
“Shit,” you muttered to yourself. You reached inside.
You were certain he’d need it for the game, but you also knew if you set foot on that field you’d never hear the end of it from him. Gingerly, you hoisted the thing up, straining under what felt like a hundred pounds of old clothes, cleats, and a dozen other things, then started to pull it over your shoulder—considering your options.
The soles of Tess’s shoes, unfortunately, had little to no grip to do so. Stepping down from the truck’s running board with a bag in tow was tricky, and for a second, you slipped. You didn’t fall, but the bag’s strap did come to slide off your shoulder the second you pitched back, and the half-zipped tote was sent tumbling to the ground.
A dozen old baseballs went flying, bouncing, and rolling every which way across the hot concrete. You groaned.
Then you were on hands and knees in an instant, skittering across the cracked blacktop and fumbling for balls like a fucking idiot. You grabbed two, three, four, and— shit, you dropped half of them. You scrambled and crawled again. Deposited the balls one-by-one into Sam’s bag, knees scraping along pavement all the while, and gradually got to six or seven of them before you realized at least one more was missing from the batch.
You stuck your head under the red Jeep Wrangler beside you and heaved a sigh. You spotted the last baseball.
“C’mere, you little shit.”
You sank waist-deep beneath the car, stretching your arm toward the ball. You got about an inch away, straining desperately, before the back of your head hit something sharp and hard sticking out from the Jeep’s undercarriage, and you cried out loud, ‘O-OW! FUCK!’
Come on, baby, make it HURT— SO— GOOD!
You clawed at the ball with an exaggerated huff, grabbed the thing, and started crawling back, head throbbing.
Sometimes lo-o-o-o-ve don’t feel like it should.
Your brain was so steeped in pain, anger, and just a stabbing, generalized resentment for all ‘80s music and men—they were somehow to blame for this—that the second you spotted an all-too-familiar pair of dorky ass New Balance 608 Cross Trainers planted behind your feet, beside the car, you couldn’t help but groan again.
You knew those calf-high crew socks anywhere. Knew that David was just dying to crouch down any second now, ask you in the world’s most grating, flirtatious tone if you needed his help again. Then probably stare at your ass or tits another minute. You weren’t putting up with it.
So, with all the hostility you had reserved for him, the many men like him, and the headache that was just then taking shape at the base of your skull, you said, sharply:
“Hey, Coach, could you FUCK OFF?”
Sam’s good graces with the coaching staff be damned, you had to let this fucker know how you felt. Fair was fair when the man had literally been hitting on you since your freshman year in college and still hadn’t gotten the hint.
You crawled out from under the Jeep expecting a fight.
An appalled expression, grim look, sour gaze, anything.
What you weren’t expecting to find was a man who looked absolutely nothing like David—and everything like a shocked, scared, and very sexy man in skintight lycra.
“Fuck me,” you said under your breath.
You immediately wished you hadn’t.
Whether from embarrassment or arousal, you should not have said those words under any circumstances. Now the man was staring you down even harder, most likely shocked and embarrassed on your behalf. His brows were raised, eyes blinking in what looked like a haze; if you hadn’t known any better, you might think he was—
“Oh, hi! Hey…you.”
A little awkward and strange.
He was stupidly handsome, there was no denying that. Dazzling, even, with the force of a dozen different strong, prominent features in perfect harmony, dimpled cheeks, tan skin, and a sublime Tom Selleck mustache. But something in the way he was watching you now, like his gaze had never strayed across a woman’s form before in his life, put a pit of unease in your stomach. You found yourself staring back, watching him closely, wondering how in the hell you could feel both violently attracted and questioning, still, if this man might veritably kidnap you.
All a part of girlhood, really.
“Hi,” you replied anyway. Hoping he didn’t have a windowless van parked anywhere close by.
“Hey,” he said again. Again.
Chomping down on his gum and smiling.
Sexy, strange man was beaming at you now. Practically exuberant in the way his lips had been stretched to make a wide, happy grin while he stared and chewed away.
You couldn’t take this for much longer.
“Sorry, I thought you were—” you started.
“David?”
You paused to give him a quick once-over, as if searching for clues before you answered him. You found nothing.
“Yeah…David.”
Then you caught sight of a nametag. Miller.
Somehow, the man’s grin got even bigger—and with it, your raw discomfort. Why was he smirking like that?
Maybe you were paranoid. Maybe you were stupid. Maybe you had spent far too much time watching true crime shows to have any fair sense of impending danger, but this guy’s aura was downright intimidating and odd. When you saw him slip a hand in his far-too-tight gym shorts and fish around for something in his pocket, your heart clenched in your chest, and its rate nearly tripled.
“Funny findin’ these—” he said, pointing with his other hand. Then reaching toward your lower half, like he was ready to hook his fingers in the waistband of your pants.
Oh, hell no.
Your most-of-the-time reliable instincts kicked in, your gut tightened up, and, truly unable to think or stomach another man feeling entitled enough to touch you again, you found yourself lifting your most readily available limb to stave off the stranger’s advances as fast as possible.
Unfortunately for him, that limb was your leg.
Or your kneecap, rather, hitting him squarely in the balls.
You didn’t even bother to wait for a response. You knew damn well what a knee to the testicles would do to any man, so your fight turned to flight just as quick, and you took off sprinting across the parking lot. A strangled groan and a string of expletives were all you could hear at your rear, and frankly, you didn’t give a single fuck whether it hurt him or not—you needed to get away.
You ran as far as your legs would carry you, and then some. You ran past the cars, across the street, down the sidewalk, between two metal bins that nearly toppled as you passed, and all the way through the gate until you reached a tall, familiar building, gasping for air. In your panic, you’d slung Sam’s bag over your shoulder, but because it hadn’t been zipped, you lost about half of its contents while hauling ass toward the sports complex.
You’d beg for Sam’s forgiveness later. For now, you had only to try and steady your breaths and temper your nerves to the point of not appearing like a total fucking lunatic walking through the place right now. You paused in the middle of the breezeway to press a hand to your side—you hadn’t sprinted that fast in years, probably.
Families were still trickling into the stadium by turns, most too rushed or inattentive to give a shit who you were or what you were wearing. Others stared. It was the stern, disapproving looks you earned from several mothers that made you reconsider being there at all.
And then you saw Frank.
He and his husband were part of the ‘too rushed’ group, ushering their son ahead of them in a breakneck haste while they muttered and cursed to themselves that warm-ups started ten minutes ago, Bill, I told you not to stop for coffee! And Bill just grunted in reply, most likely.
You sidled up beside the latter, giving a quick greeting before joining them in their speedwalk to the fields. In all the sixteen years you’d been neighbors, you hadn’t seen a single event that Frank and Bill had arrived to on time.
“H— oh shit.” Bill didn’t bother to disguise his surprise when he ran a quick look up and down your person.
So it wasn’t just the soccer moms. You did look like shit.
“Mornin’, sunshine!” Frank chirped anyway, unfazed.
Their son, Nathan, cocked a brow but said nothing.
“Hey, Nate, would you mind giving this to Sam?” You held the backpack out to him as the four of you rounded a corner, about to part ways before the bleachers.
The kid nodded and took the bag. Then, shortly, he picked up his pace from a brisk walk to a jog the second he saw his team meeting up on the field. He broke off in less than a second, and you, Bill, and Frank were left to find seats in a sea of hot, metal benches. The taller of the pair was nudging your ribs before you’d even sat down.
“Dare I ask?” Frank whispered.
“I think somebody might’ve, like…tried to grope me in the parking lot,” you replied, slowly but at full volume.
That earned a couple more stares from the parents around you. Bill audibly sputtered and coughed.
The three of you had just sat down at a comfortable distance from first base when Frank turned to face you fully. His eyes were wide, all decorum momentarily lost as he leaned in to say, ‘No fuckin’ shit! Are you okay?!’
You nodded.
“No, yeah, I’m fi—”
“Who was it?”
That was Bill. You could already tell from the flare in his nostrils that some brutal, ruthless beating was being concocted in his mind for whoever had crossed you. You placed a hand over his, quickly, and shot reassuring looks between him and Frank before you continued.
“No, no, I mean, he didn’t actually— it was just…”
You had to cut yourself short, unsure of what the stranger had actually been trying to do before—
“I kneed him in the dick,” you finished bluntly.
That didn’t seem to appease either party. At all. If anything, it just caused their blood pressure to spike, as Frank’s hand flew up to his mouth, and Bill’s eyebrows leapt halfway up his face in visible horror and shock.
“Well who the— what man’s got the goddamn nerve to just—” The one with the sky-high brows seemed to struggle with his words, and right as he was about to reclaim them, a new presence nearby stopped him cold.
Or maybe he kept talking. You couldn’t tell. Truthfully, it was probably only you who’d gone deaf to the rest of what was said, because in that moment, you were met with a gruesome new discovery stumbling onto the field.
Walking with a limp from the dugout to the nearest umpire—practically bow-legged with how carefully he was treading to avoid disturbing his balls—was the guy.
Your guy.
Creepy guy.
Brand new coach of the Fireflies guy, by all appearances.
Suddenly, the man looked far less vile and menacing in his short-sleeved neon tee, shorts yanked up to his ribs in the fashion all Little League coaches were apt to do. His shoes—the same ones you’d mistaken for David’s—looked just as lame as before, but now you saw them connected to a poor old forty-something dude who volunteered to coach snot-nosed kids in his spare time.
He looked about as pitiful as could be, hobbling over to one man in a black-and-white striped shirt and shaking his hand. Then shaking the hand of another. Then exchanging some words, and obviously straining to maintain his composure as he spoke. Smiling kindly.
Trying to ignore the fact that his nuts were on fire.
You lifted a hand to cover your mouth.
Frank’s gaze followed yours.
“Is that—”
“Yeah.”
Shit.
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The Fireflies lost 8-0.
The Morales City Catfish weren’t even that good of a team, and still, the boys had suffered a crushing defeat. Naturally, you saw uniform faces of dejection and gloom coming back up to you once the game had been called, and you could tell it would take a shit-ton of ice cream and encouragement to get the team over this funk.
Sam was so down he barely even acknowledged your presence, or the fact that you weren’t supposed to be there in the first place. He just sniffled, hung his head in abject shame, then accepted a quick side hug from you before turning away, crossing his arms, and trying his best to play it cool in front of the rest of his team.
“Uncle Frank, can you take us to Amy’s?” he called over your shoulder, where Frank and Bill were already consoling a similarly miserable Nathan behind you.
“Sure thing, sport,” Frank shot back. He knew just as well as you that two scoops of Rocky Road were likely the only things capable of cheering them up right now.
And, over the course of that long, ugly game, you’d come to learn that Frank also knew Joel Miller. Coach Joel.
Soft-spoken and sweet, salt-of-the-earth Joel Miller who was serving as the Fireflies’ head coach pro tempore while his best friend was taking time off to recover from gallbladder surgery. Frank and Bill most certainly didn’t disbelieve what you’d told them about your encounter with him, but on closer examination, it became clear to you all that there might’ve been a misunderstanding.
In other words, you’d probably jumped the gun on kneeing the poor guy in the dick. You felt like shit.
Particularly when you watched him walk off with David after the game to put equipment away, and you saw he was still struggling to walk without a conspicuous limp. You, Bill, and Frank had decided it would be best at least to talk things out with him, but now that the time was actually here, you were dreading going up to Coach Joel.
Luckily—or maybe unluckily—you didn’t have to.
You felt a light tap on your shoulder as the rest of your group was starting to leave. Sam and Nate were leading the way, and the adults in front of you were too busy talking to notice you’d been stopped. You turned around.
The first thing you saw was a stack of clothes.
You couldn’t bear to look up at the face.
“You dropped these.”
Right. Right. When you’d been flailing like a cat on a hot tin roof to get away from the man. Your cheeks warmed.
You accepted the clothes from Joel and were already starting to shake your head, when your voice clawed out of your throat, far too small and feeble for your liking:
“I am…so…so sorry, Coach.”
At last, you mustered the courage to meet his gaze. It was cool and indifferent as soon as you reached it.
“I thought— see, I-I didn’t know you were—” You sounded downright pathetic, stammering like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar, “I kinda—”
Then a new voice cut in.
“C’mon, we’re leavin’.”
That was Sam.
Gaze hardened to that of an almost-stoic, he stared at Coach Joel and didn’t even bother to mask his grim look.
He probably thought Joel was trying to make a move.
If only he knew how fucking far from the truth that was.
You swallowed and smiled sweetly all the same. Glancing down at the clothes in your hands, then nodding to his bag, you reached over to hand your brother his stuff.
“Coach Joel just wanted to give back some of the junk I, uh…accidentally dropped when I was walkin’ in earlier, Sammy,” you said, trying your best to sound relaxed.
But Sam just turned to the side, wordlessly telling you to put the clothes in the bag for him, and you knew it was because he wanted to keep mean mugging Joel as much as he possibly could while your attention was diverted.
Nine-year-olds were weird like that. Sam might not have had the guts to tell his friends off, or even a familiar ‘authority figure’ like David, but Joel was fair game. He was basically as good as a stranger to him and wouldn’t even be with the team for more than a couple weeks. So he stared him down and continued to frown while you re-zipped his bag, hoping he wouldn’t say anything dumb.
“Why’re ya walkin’ around so weird, Coach?”
“Sam!”
Clearly, you’d hoped a little too soon.
Your cheeks were on fire now, glancing between your brother’s pinched, insolent expression and Joel’s neutral one. It was like the latter hadn’t even registered the jab.
“Sam, you can’t just ask tha—” you started off in a hurried whisper, only to have your speech cut short.
“Old age, buddy,” Joel returned swiftly, words laced with the faintest trace of humor, “Threw my back out this mornin’ chasin’ after somebody, and now it hurts.”
The coach’s eyes didn’t even try to refrain from flitting over to yours when he said ‘somebody.’ You coughed.
Sam smirked, oblivious.
“Yeah? Who?”
“Wish I knew.”
“How come they were runnin’?”
“That’s what I’ve been tryin’ to figure out.”
Offering nothing more than a noncommittal shrug and a scrunch of his nose, Joel re-shouldered his bag and started to lift the other stash of equipment he had tied up in a mesh tote. He blinked a little harder as he did.
Sam looked down at the tote.
“You, uh…need some help with that?” he asked. For the time being, at least, intrigue had supplanted mistrust.
“Nah, ‘s’okay. I got it.”
“Sa-a-am!”
You glanced over your shoulder and saw Nathan with his hands cupped over his mouth, standing by the gate with his parents. Even at a distance, you could see the curious looks on Bill and Frank’s faces. You tried your best to appease both with a nod—‘I’m good, don’t worry.’
Then, before you even realized what you were doing, you found yourself turning back to Sam and smiling. Again.
Sweet and pleading and strained as you’d ever been:
“Go on ahead, I’ll help Coach carry the stuff.”
You weren’t sure why that statement felt so momentous, but it did. You looked back at Joel for half a second to find his eyebrows raised, as if he’d interpreted your message the same, and quickly, you both tried to conceal whatever you were feeling on your faces.
It was hard.
Sam looked between the two of you, suspicions seeming to creep back in for a second. He gave Joel, in particular, a pointed look, and for a moment, you thought he might change his mind and insist on coming along with you.
Then he sucked in a quick breath and remembered ice cream awaited him with Nate and the rest of the guys. His attention span was decent enough for a kid his age, but even that had its limits—and food was too tempting.
‘Whatever’ appeared to be his last, decisive thought.
“Hope your back feels better, Coach,” he said quickly, before he started off across the pavement, “See ya!”
At length, Sam called something over his shoulder about meeting you there, but you could tell he was already too caught up in the prospect of hanging with his boys to really care. You watched him sprint down the breezeway full-speed, and, just as he made it to the gate, he turned:
“Hope ya find that dumb sonovabitch, Coach!”
He was smiling extra big as he said it.
You wanted to yell back and tell him to watch his language, like he would always do to you, but he was gone before you could even start to form the words.
The little shit.
Once he had left, you and Joel exchanged a look that lasted no more than a second, and neither of you smiled.
The coach tossed his mesh bag your way with all the concern he might have had for a sack of potatoes. A heavy set of metal gear clashed and clanged around in your arms, and for a second, you staggered backward.
“Locker room’s that way,” he muttered. Nodding toward the back of the sports facility but saying nothing else.
Joel didn’t wait for you to follow along. He just went.
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Kindness wasn’t so much an expectation as it was a foolish hope—that Coach Joel might be willing to make amends, forgive and forget, maybe even grace you with one of his dimpled grins once all of it was said and done.
So far, he hadn’t even looked your way, much less given you the chance to apologize. He strode ahead, quickly, as soon as you’d started walking behind him, then he pressed his phone to his ear and hadn’t stopped yapping away while you trotted on his heels and tried to keep up. Through the bleachers, the breezeway, and a near-labyrinthine set of twists and turns to get to the locker rooms at the rear of the building, Joel was like a wall.
As handsome and fuckable as a wall could ever be, but one whose face you couldn’t even see to properly read for any emotion, because he refused to meet your gaze.
The closest thing you’d gotten to contact was him nodding toward a supply closet on your way in, cupping his palm over the bottom of his phone and going, ‘There.’
“For the…stuff?” you asked dumbly, lifting your bag.
Coach Joel barely gave a hum of acknowledgment before turning away and resuming his phone call with vigor. Then he pivoted again, put a hand on his hip like he meant business all of a sudden, and pretended to be extraordinarily invested in this other, better conversation.
Or maybe he wasn’t pretending.
You didn’t know the guy.
You stepped inside.
Dropped the bag.
And when you returned, Joel was gone, leaving you to a long, empty, dead-cold corridor with no sign whatsoever of where he went—or where you were meant to follow.
Asshole.
It struck you then that not a single, sane soul would bother to haunt these hallways once the weekend games were over. It was just you and Joel and…Joel and you with nothing between but the stale, fetid air and echoes bouncing back and forth across the concrete walls. More sounds followed as you started down the hall yourself.
The first corner you rounded led to a door—Emergency Exit Only. You turned to your left, spotted another closet. Spun on your heels and tried going the other direction, only to find that the adjoining passage was shrouded pitch black. All but one fluorescent bulb that way was turned off. You stared into the darkness, it stared back, and through the soft, flickering glow of that one lone panel, you finally saw the entrance to the locker room.
It looked ominous as all hell.
Already picturing some axe-wielding psycho in the depths of the shadows, you walked ahead, unfazed. Hoping silently, stupidly, someone would jump out and rock your shit before getting to Joel, you treaded as slow as you possibly could. When you pushed the door open and not one serial killer bothered to stop you, you sighed.
“Coach?” you called.
No answer.
For a second or two, you contemplated whether or not you were even allowed to do this, but you went inside. Slowly. Taking two hesitant steps across wet, white tile, craning your neck to make sure no one else was around. Stealing a look in the mirror and seeing yourself cowered—whether from fear or dread, you couldn’t be certain—and shit did you look extra dumb wearing those big, grey sweats that were about two ass shakes away from falling off your hips. You walked up to the mirror and frowned.
The reflection you saw was unsettling—who the fuck gave you these, anyway? What happened to your skirt?
These questions and at least a dozen more began to percolate between your ears with growing unease, memories rehashed and scrutinized into the tiniest, bite-sized pieces. No matter how hard you stared and tried to remember, full recollection was always out of reach.
Such was the state of your mind that you couldn’t believe your eyes when they first drifted to your left.
It seemed too serendipitous, too crazy and coincidental and plainly on the nose to be something from reality staring you straight in the face. You blinked in disbelief.
Sitting in an unzipped bag on the floor was the skirt.
Your skirt—a flimsy little mid-rise denim number that you’d snagged half off at Kohl’s last summer. In there.
Folded at the top of an old nylon tote labeled, ‘MILLER.’
For the second time that day, you would’ve lost your lunch all over the floor if you’d had the food to do it. Instead, you found yourself dropping to your knees and yanking the skirt toward you, eyes widened with shock. Fingering the blue fabric in your hands like the material might disintegrate between them, staring at the thing and almost wishing it’d dissolve so this wouldn’t be real.
So Joel—Coach Joel, with his big bruised balls and all—wouldn’t have your skirt in his bag and know something about the things you’d done last night that you did not.
With this bizarre turn, and the way your day was going, it should’ve come as no surprise when next you heard:
“What are you doing here?”
But, of course, the voice did catch you off guard.
It was like Coach Joel had a knack for finding you in the worst possible spots, at all times. You rose to your feet.
“Wh— what are these doing here?” you snapped anyway.
Joel didn’t flinch.
“Oh. You found it,” he returned, voice devoid of interest.
Like this was no great discovery. Like this was old news. You took a step closer to him, still holding the skirt out.
“Yeah. What the fuck was it doing in your bag?”
“I meant to give ‘em back earlier.”
“Wh—”
“Figured it wasn’t the most appropriate time for that, with your son standin’ right there between us an’ all.”
Your son?
“My son?”
“The kid.”
“That’s my brother,” you said, exasperation only rising, “Why did you even have this thing in the first place?!”
At that, Joel paused. His brows drew in, and his frown grew deeper. Like he wasn’t sure what to make of you.
“So you lied,” he said, finally.
“Lied?”
“‘Bout how drunk you were.”
“I never said—”
“No. You said plenty,” Joel spoke over you, stern. Then, eyes narrowing, “If you can’t remember it, I was right.”
You couldn’t tell whether it was the tendency to interrupt or simply the condescending glint in his eye that you despised, but, by turns, you could feel the remorse seep out from your bones and any desire to make amends dissipate right along with it. And then there was that mention of ‘it’—was he insinuating something had happened between you two while you were blacked out? You gripped your skirt tighter and eyed him just as hard.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” you spat.
The face across from yours was tough, but evidently not imperturbable. A shadow of some amorphous hurt passed behind his eyes, if only for half a second.
“You don’t…remember last night at all, do you?”
You didn’t.
You wished you did, but you didn’t, and it was just then beginning to irk the hell out of you that this man did. You couldn’t stand to be at such a disadvantage—or to have been at such a disadvantage if, in fact, he’d taken you home and done things you couldn’t even remember.
So, perhaps more cruel than you should’ve been, but feeling the need to reclaim some leverage, you said:
“Why? Were you, like, my pity fuck of the night and that’s why you’ve got my skirt? And tried groping me earlier?”
Coach Joel’s nostrils visibly flared; he stared even harder.
“No. No, I tried— those are my pants there, I was—” Growing agitated in the face of the accusation you’d just leveled against him and struggling to find the words to defend himself, Joel’s brows pinched tighter. His lips pursed, and he shook his head. You went on, undaunted.
“Yeah? So you normally fuck girls too drunk to even—”
“No.”
Joel’s response was immediate. Insistent. Voice carrying through the near-empty, wide and tiled room with all the force of a sonic boom. He hadn’t yelled at you, though.
And, before he could continue, you heard the very real scream of a door squeaking back on its hinges from the opposite end of the locker room. Heavy wood struck a doorstop no farther than ten or so yards away from you.
Joel coughed.
“Milleeerrrrr, you in here?”
Choked.
The next thing you knew you were being shoved in a shower stall to your left with Joel painfully close in tow. One broad hand appearing beside your hip like magic, yanking a knob, then slamming a hot and clammy palm over your mouth before you could scream at the spray.
A ruthless, ice-cold downpour had you both drenched in seconds. You would’ve leapt back or turned away if there were space at all to budge, but there wasn’t. And Joel had you constricted to his chest like a python anyway.
‘Don’t’ was all he whispered in your ear before turning.
Then shouting back, loud, “What’cha need, Big D?”
David cackled at the nickname. You inwardly cringed. Huge, glacial spates of water continued to shoot down your back, you squeezed your skirt in your hand like a vice, and the man behind you hugged your body to him even tighter as you squirmed and tried wriggling away.
“Just came to see if you needed a ride to Amy’s. The boys are all already over there,” David replied, and in turn, he was treading closer. Walking slowly to the stall.
Joel pinched your face like you were somehow to blame. You jerked a sharp elbow to his ribs, and he let up a little.
“Nah, man, I—” Joel began, ever-so-slowly reaching out toward the shower knob and turning it, “—gotta talk to Ezra, make a couple more calls. I’ll meet y’all over there.”
Outside, David made a low, disappointed huff. Then he plopped his ass on a bench from what you could hear.
“I can wait,” he said.
“There’s really no need—” You could feel the strain in Joel’s voice, picturing him gritting his teeth and wincing beneath the torrents of water. Slowly, the shower heated.
“Believe me, I’m in no rush to get over there,” David chuckled. The bench creaked as he leaned back.
Then, he added:
“Ain’t like Ms. Cum-On-Me-Tits’ll be there anyway.”
I beg your finest pardon?
You wanted to thrash out of Joel’s arms the second you heard the name—knowing damn well who he meant—but the big, wet arms out in front of you were pressing down on your chest like the oxygen in the air was scarce. Your lungs could barely expand far enough to breathe, much less venture to fight him off of you and leave.
“Ms. Who?” Joel said, sounding dumb as a bag of dicks.
“You know who,” David barked out a laugh this time, “The slut you were eyeballin’ the whole fuckin’ game.”
You’d kill both men with your two bare hands if you could—if you had to be subjected to one more second of this asinine ‘locker room talk,’ you just might off yourself, too.
Joel’s arms noticeably tensed around you.
“I don’t—”
“Sam’s sister, man. I don’t blame ya one bit. Pretty little thing like that, I’m starin’ at those tits every chance I—”
You ground your heel hard into Joel’s toes then, and he groaned. Loosened his grip on you just long enough for you to turn around in that tiny, compact shower and look up to pin him with the most vicious stare you could. He didn’t have to be the one saying these things for the words to sting and make you feel every bit as objectified. As far as you were concerned, and on top of everything else going on, his silence made him equally complicit.
Above you, a pair of brown eyes tried to apologize.
Or maybe just commiserate about how badly David sucked. Joel cleared his throat and cut back in.
“She’s…alright,” he said, eyes boring into yours as he spoke—then, pointedly, “Not really my type, though.”
“Bullshi-i-i-it!”
David sang an incredulous cacophony before continuing:
“Tell me, Joel, does your ass get jealous of all the shit that comes outta your mouth? Or is it used to it by now?”
In another sopping wet and raw moment of discomfort, Joel frowned. The water enveloping you both had slowly crept up to a more comfortable temperature, and just as a pinkish hue ascended his neck, you wondered if it was the warmth or something else that ushered in the color.
And the answer to that came much sooner than you expected—one superb cherry atop a monster-sized shit pie—when something stabbed your pelvis a second later.
Your mouth fell open as Joel’s snapped shut. He blinked; you stared; neither one of you possessed the courage to look down, but you knew what was standing there, stiff.
Then, as if to compound every last one of your problems and add the cruelest of insults to injury, David sat up.
Again, he laughed.
“You know I’m right!” he chided when Joel said nothing, “Got yourself laid after you left Tipsy Bison last night, and it still ain’t enough for a horny fuck like you, huh?”
Now you had to be sick. Your head was throbbing.
Glaring lack of food be damned, you felt the urge. Again.
You almost tore the shower curtain aside when Joel caged you back against the wall with his body, torso pinning yours, and you heard a far-off cackle once more—this time, accompanied by the sounds of David’s shoes squeaking as he stood. Boner momentarily forgotten, Joel pressed his body to yours on cool glazed ceramic and made a plea as he stuck his index finger to your lips.
And whatever that wordless message was, you were too mortified to meet his gaze. You just stood in place and stared over his shoulder as David made to leave outside.
Some words were exchanged; they barely registered with you. Joel told David, again, that he could drive to Amy’s without him—David said something about ‘big butts’ and ‘college sluts’ and promises of hearing the ‘whole story’ when Joel got there—and Joel hummed, noncommittal.
As soon as the door slammed shut behind the Fireflies’ asshole assistant coach, your hands went straight to Joel’s chest to shove him off as hard as you could.
“Hey—”
A short, emphatic ‘fuck you’ was obscured just slightly by the sound of the shower curtain being yanked to the left, your feet moving quickly underneath you, then the splashes of puddles as you walked—stomped—away.
You were back outside, exiting through a different door than David had and making it out into the hallway again.
“Hey—”
“Don’t care.”
Those words weren’t muffled at all. You stalked down the hall with your skirt in a fist and your whole body dripping.
You made it halfway before a hand found your waist, but you tried to keep going in spite of the pull. Straining.
And, personally, you would’ve liked to use your sopping wet denim just then as a projectile, launched directly into Coach Joel’s face. It would’ve been easy, smacking a creep upside the head when he clearly couldn’t comprehend a lick of difference between a ‘fuck you’ and a ‘thank you,’ but the weapon in your grip was virtually useless if you didn’t have the strength to lift it.
Or if Joel didn’t stop you then to make you face him, use one broad hand to burn a wet-hot imprint in your side while his other nudged a door open beside you.
Or if you didn’t stumble inside with one nudge.
If there hadn’t been a bone-empty coach’s lounge waiting behind that door, rattling with the sound and sheer force of the thing shutting swiftly behind Joel.
Then, before you could try and curse him out again:
“I’m sorry.”
“Bullshit.” You sounded like David saying it before.
You were already backing up in that tiny office space, wishing you had the willpower to just chuck your skirt and run, but of course, your pride was too great. Your curiosity was too wild, and your anger was unrivaled.
“Nothing happened last night,” Joel said, emphatic.
“Wh—”
“We didn’t fuck. Or do anything. I swear.”
That kind of candor was a first. You weren’t sure just what to make of it. Wordlessly, you dropped your skirt.
“David said—” you started again.
“David heard—from my little brother, if I had to guess—that we left Tipsy Bison together. And we did…but, uh…” Joel trailed off, shifting his attention to something of note over your shoulder, and then stepping, reaching carefully around you, “I just wanted to get you home.”
“To fuck me,” you finished.
“No.”
Joel tensed again as he shook a towel out in front of you, then draped it over your shoulders. You made a face at the coarse texture but stayed quiet as he wrapped you. He paused, pressed your arms lightly, then appeared to decide in the blink of an eye and one awkward cough that now was not the best time to be touching. You couldn’t deny the warmth was a welcome change as you stood soaked head-to-toe, yet nothing could uncurl the ice-cold fist in your stomach at the sight of him now.
Joel stood, still semi-erect in his five-inch inseam shorts.
A puddle was starting to form on the floor around you both. Joel’s breathing was slow; he stood so close you could feel it. Hear it. Smell it. He started to back away.
Before he did, you got a whiff of something light on his breath. Then some dim, misshapen word began to form.
Spearmint.
You stood and you stared. You saw an image flash before your mind—a memory. At some point in time, you had danced with this man. One night. Last night? Maybe.
‘I knew him as John Cougar. That’s how old I am.’
‘And he’s Mellencamp to me. So what?’
‘Means you’re too young for me.’
All the same, the man’s hand had tightened its grip. Splayed out at the base of your spine and drawing you closer, the fingers tapped along to a heartland rock tune playing loud across the way on the Tipsy Bison’s jukebox. Joel smiled and chewed. Chewed and smiled.
And chewed some more—still, to the present moment.
Joel Miller kept a pack of Wrigley’s Sugarfree Spearmint gum in the pocket of every clothing item he owned. He indulged in the stuff so often because it helped ease his nerves some. You knew this because he’d told you, right before his lips had grazed the corner of yours and told you, slowly, there were worse ways to smell than minty. You had proceeded to frown and demand a proper kiss.
But that night, last night, Joel never did.
“We didn’t…do it,” you said, question and statement commingled as you searched his face for an answer.
What you got in return was more akin to a wince.
“You were drunk,” Joel answered simply.
‘Blackout’ was implied by the tone of his voice. Then, when the same old muscles went tensing beneath the smooth, tanned skin of his jaw to keep chomping away—nerves shot to hell no matter how hard he chewed—Joel held your gaze and drank you in, as you did to him.
And the memories came trickling back, one by one.
“I— took that off myself, didn’t I?” Pointing to your skirt.
Joel’s eyes didn’t need to follow your own. He nodded.
“Stripped it off pretty quick when we got in the truck.”
You wanted to die. Now the mere idea of remembering was something more like an anvil hanging overhead, ready to drop any second. You sucked your bottom lip in.
“Kept on sayin’ to me, ‘I’m sober, I swear!’ and took the skirt off to show ya wanted to, y’know—” Joel paused to circle around the desk behind him. He went rummaging, quietly, then, “You threw it over your neighbors’ fence as soon as we got to your place. I had to fish it out later.”
Coach Joel made it through two, three, four drawers before finally setting his sights on the one he needed—the one where they kept old athletic clothes stored, it seemed. You watched him set aside a heather grey shirt of some minor league baseball team you didn’t recognize, followed by a pair of gym shorts.
It certainly wasn’t the most trendy attire, but it was dry.
Joel was still dripping wet when he motioned to the stuff. Before he could offer it up, though, you frowned.
“Wait— we were at my house?”
Joel smiled in that wry, humorless way of his and nodded. Pretended to inspect a smudge on his shoe so he didn’t have to meet your gaze and watch the first inklings of embarrassment morph into pure humiliation.
Your cheeks were on fire. You remembered it now.
How Joel had calmly set you up in the passenger seat of his truck, politely pushed your feet back inside when you whined and insisted you were fine to keep drinking, let’s go back, then artfully dodged a kiss that you’d tried to plant on his lips. You’d got his cheek instead and huffed.
“Joel, I am so, so sober, it’s insane,” you hiccuped, “Pinky promise we can fuck now if you wanna.”
“I don’t,” Joel grunted. He put the car in drive.
You must’ve gone back and forth on that topic for hours—or however long it took to get from the Tipsy Bison’s parking lot to your parent’s house in the dead of night—and Joel had been adamant. Insistent. He wouldn’t lay a hand on you until you’d sobered up and gone to sleep.
He’d somehow managed to wrestle you into a pair of his sweats after you threw your own skirt over the fence. He’d reasoned, pleaded, then outright begged you to follow his lead inside. When you refused, he had no choice but to throw you over his shoulder and—
“—sneak me into my room?” you said, words steeped in disbelief. Your parents would’ve murdered the man in cold blood if they’d seen him toting their half-conscious, fully drunk daughter over his back and into her bedroom.
Coach Joel was brave for that.
Kind-hearted, too.
And you’d kicked the poor soul in his balls the next day.
Suddenly—and conspicuously—your gaze fell to his dick.
“I-I…Joel, I am so…fucking sor—”
“‘S’okay,” Joel cut in, gently. Wincing at the memory and pretending not to see your eyes burn a hole in his shorts.
Your gaze was still fixed firmly on that spot when you saw his hand stir at his side. He reached into his pocket.
To your immediate chagrin, he withdrew a little wrapper.
Just big enough to house a strip of gum, but it didn’t, at least not anymore. Someone had removed the gum and flipped the wrapper inside out to write something down.
Joel’s fingers flattened it out some, and then you saw it: a phone number scribbled on the small silver parchment. The man in front of you held it out for no more than a second before placing it on top of the clothes on the desk and sliding the pile toward you. Clearing his throat.
“Forgot to give you this,” he said, “I was just, uh— tryin’ to pull it outta my pocket. Earlier. In the parking lot.”
So not trying to grope you. Or kidnap you in broad daylight. Or do anything even remotely malevolent.
Just trying to give you his number. Pointing to his pants.
No sooner had Joel set you down on your bed than you were squirming against your comforter, trying to drag his sweatpants down your legs with some effort. Joel immediately seized both of your hands at the waistband and shook his head. He yanked the pants up while you tried, unsuccessfully, to pull them down your body.
“This ain’t happenin’ now, honey,” he’d said softly.
“Why—” You fisted the fabric even tighter and attempted to wriggle out again, to no avail, “—not?!”
“One: you’re drunk…” Joel replied, voice even as ever. Tugging his sweats back up to rest comfortably at your hips, then rotating your body in bed so he could pull the sheets over you, “Two: date comes first, remember?”
You blinked in embarrassment—again—at the memory. Joel bit the inside of his cheek, as if remembering too.
“I promised I’d take ya on a proper date,” he said simply. Flatly, almost, “Y’know, ‘fore we did anything like, uh…”
And from one shared look alone, the two of you knew what would’ve followed after. Or had a rough idea of it, anyway. Perhaps feeling a bit too forward with that wordless admission, or still uncertain whether you even remembered the date he’d promised you in the first place, Joel looked down. He glanced over at the clothes and opened his mouth to speak again, probably to tell you to get changed, now, you’re fixin’ to freeze to death—and maybe you should’ve waited for him to say it.
Maybe.
Maybe you should’ve waited for Coach Joel to tell you that he’d step outside and give you some privacy while you changed, offer to give you a ride to Amy’s if you needed it. Keep things professional. Platonic. Put dates on the back burner for the time being and leave it at that.
But you were already so cold, and your inhibitions low.
Maybe some part of you wanted to make it up to Joel somehow—thank him for being so kind the night before.
So, instead of letting him speak, you hooked your thumbs under the waistband of his sweatpants, just like you’d done the night before, and started to pull down.
“Does the date have to come first?” you said. Soft, slow.
The wet and heavy fabric fell around your ankles with a less-than-sexy thud, but you stepped out of it calmly all the same. Your legs were met with another biting chill, the kind that was bound to seize your limbs when left bare below the waist—save for your bodysuit—and you felt a wave of goosebumps break out across your skin.
Joel stared as you stepped closer. He hadn’t evinced so much as a note of surprise, but you could tell from the glint in his eyes he had to have been thinking something.
‘Christ’ was all he muttered.
You drew nearer, until just the tips of your toes were about to graze his own, and you kicked off Tess’s shoes with a nonchalance you were amazed you were able to feign. Inside, your heart was hammering against your chest, and your stomach doing somersaults as Joel’s gaze drifted back up to your face. His chewing had slowed, but you could feel the faint fragrance of mint on his breath. You wished he would touch you, but he didn’t.
“Figured we could just...cut through the—” you started.
“No.”
It seemed Joel loved to interrupt. Loved telling you no.
You leaned back a little, both eyebrows raised. You were about to take a step away, sensing by the stern look that had crossed over his face that maybe he wasn’t in the mood to touch, or kiss, or do anything with you at all. As much as rejection would’ve felt like a punch in the gut, and likely compounded your embarrassment tenfold, you would never try to cross that line without his permission.
You’d just sucked in one last inhale of spearmint and failure when you felt a hand on the front of your top.
Joel’s index and thumb pinched the fabric.
They tugged you toward his body, gently.
At the first influx of relief, you smiled—thank fuck you hadn’t creeped the poor guy out—and started to reach for Joel just the same, but his other hand stopped you. Again, it was tender, but appreciably firmer this time:
Don’t touch me.
Your face fell. Hand dropped limply beside you and eyes winced with confusion as Joel continued to pull forward.
He brought you to a stop before your bodies made contact. Then he slipped his touch from your belly, up your sides, before eventually settling on your...shoulder?
He applied light pressure. You didn’t understand why.
When he pushed harder and made your legs buckle underneath you, the message rang a little more clearly.
Your knees made the gentlest splat atop wet hardwood, the office floor soaked from your body and Joel’s. You’d barely managed to keep your balance between his feet and had just started to tilt your head up to meet his gaze, hands instinctively reaching out and gripping his thighs for support, when the fabric rustled under your palms.
The soaked, black shorts were being peeled off, slowly.
You blinked up at Joel in disbelief. Did he seriously—
“Think you should say you’re sorry first,” Joel said.
Your heart thudded even harder. You scarcely had another second to process his words before Joel had pulled his shorts down just enough for a strip of skin to show; for the material of his boxers to glide down and leave the tiniest bit of plaid fabric to contain himself.
Coach Joel smoothed his other palm across the back of your head, nudging you closer without pushing you in it.
Amazingly, there was still a palpable undercurrent of concern, even as he had you planted on your knees in front of him. He stroked your scalp with his thumb.
“Nicked my balls pretty good this mornin’—least you could do is give ‘em a kiss to say sorry, right, darlin’?”
You continued to blink, still not quite capable of speech.
“Uhhhm—” you sputtered, only for Joel to intervene.
“‘S’just fine by me if you don’t,” he murmured, “Figured they’d feel a bit better with your pretty lips on ‘em is all.”
From the sweet and encouraging lilt in his voice to the gentle rubs of his finger going back and forth across the crown of your head, you felt a stab of saccharine pride. An urge to preen beneath his touch and soak in the tiniest streaks of affection wrought by the pad of one thumb and a smile taking shape lazily above you then.
Joel didn’t tug the waistband of his boxers any further; you did. The gears in your brain whirring alive with a desire to have him keep smiling at you like that, keep stroking your head and voicing his dulcet appreciation, you reckoned the effect was something akin to a drug.
You weren’t watching his cock when it finally sprang out. Your eyes were just glued to Coach Joel’s, holding his gaze and hoping he liked the sight of you there beside it.
Beside him.
Beside every inch of him, and— oh fuck were there a lot.
Your attention momentarily diverted, you peered up at Joel’s cock as it sat nestled against a small tuft of grey-black hairs at the base of his belly and almost coughed.
He was huge in every aspect. Your mouth fell open.
Seeing your lips so parted, Joel had to fight back a chuckle, it sounded like, and gently nudged your head.
“‘S’okay, baby. Just the balls, remember?”
Your gaze flitted back to his, visibly unnerved. Confused.
“Just…the balls?” you breathed.
At length, the short, shallow exhales from your lungs were fanning across Joel’s family jewels, and you almost couldn’t believe he wanted you to neglect his cock completely in favor of kissing them. You swallowed.
When your mouth reopened, caught somewhere between a look of curiosity and muted surprise, Joel pressed the pads of his fingers into your scalp once more. Prodding you gently toward the source of his desire without applying too much pressure on the spot.
“Right…there.”
Your lips latched onto the smooth, warm skin as he said it. It was strange, landing straight on a plane of flesh that you typically didn’t pay attention to until you’d licked and bobbed your head down his cock a few times. These soft and rounded globes felt almost foreign to you, as you curled your lips into one, gently, and then felt them spring back with a pop. Your mouth was watering.
Joel groaned at the slippery wet friction from that kiss.
While you stared and started in for another soft peck, Coach Joel sucked in a hiss of a breath through his teeth.
“Feels better already, honey,” he grunted.
You kissed the other. You ran your tongue along the underside and guided it back to your mouth so you could suckle some more, and the fingers noticeably tightened.
Another soft, punctured breath. Another rumbling moan.
“Fuck— baby, you look so pretty. Kissin’ ‘em so well.”
Feeling confidence swell in your chest, you locked eyes with Joel and opened your mouth wider. If you hadn’t been otherwise preoccupied, perhaps you would’ve felt a small twinge of embarrassment at the drool that leaked out of both corners of your lips as you did it, but, at any rate, you were busy, and evidently, the sight had only made Joel’s cock harder. Your eyes shifted to the stiff, thick, veiny member standing upright above you, all but pulsing with need, and you lifted your hand to touch it.
Joel brushed it away.
“Nuh-uh,” he tutted.
Without meaning to, you whined. Tongue ushering more of that soft, smooth flesh against your lips and jaw hanging slack as your cheeks stretched to accommodate as much as they verily could, you felt deprived, in a way.
You pressed your fingertips into his thighs, pleading.
And, as if to answer your question, Joel shook his head.
“An apology to me ain’t about what you want, darlin’,” he said, voice gravelly as he spoke, “Keep your hands off it.”
Something in his tone, though not unkind, grated on your ears like some of the worst news you’d ever heard. An aura you hadn’t been able to decipher until just now seemed to sink beneath your skin, made you sick with it—that feeling of dread that you’d disappointed the man. Perhaps it was because he was a coach, because he knew how to assume an authoritative stance and hold you to it, that you felt especially dispirited by his words. That simple, clipped ‘hands off’ hurt more than expected
You tore your gaze from his and resumed the quiet ministrations with your lips and tongue on his balls, bracing yourself tighter against his thighs as you did.
“‘M’sorry— I—” you said, voice muffled between kisses and gentle laps of your tongue, “—didn’t mean to, Joel.”
You felt the muscles in his legs stiffen as you bathed him with attention, spit smeared all over and lips working tirelessly to massage him, give him more pleasure.
“It’s alright, pretty girl,” Joel murmured, voice strained with the force of another moan clawing out of his throat. At length, he gave in—squeezing your head to him a little tighter and letting out a sound so obscene that you felt a new wave of warmth pool into your panties, trickling fast.
And, as if he could hear your arousal seep out, knowing just what his honeyed praises were liable to do to you:
“Good girl, just like that— fuck, your mouth feels nice.”
The sting of his last admonition was beginning to fade. Your lips worked hungrily over him, suckling and kissing and taking more into your mouth, as much as your jaw would allow. You were just about to try and squeeze all of him in, when you felt Joel shift in front of you slightly.
Then stepping back, crouching down to your level.
You probably would’ve fallen flat on your face had he not scooped you up in his arms the second after. Your knees were like jelly, your brain scarcely more functional and feeling a little self-conscious about the spit on your chin. You were just about to wipe it off with the back of your hand when Joel got it for you—using his mouth to do it.
Licking a stripe across the lower half of your face, mixing his own saliva with yours and tickling your cheek with his mustache in an act that seemed almost pornographic.
“You are so fucking sexy,” Joel murmured, teeth nipping at wet skin and lips pressing light kisses here and there.
Before you could respond, he turned you around and shoved you onto the desk. Pressed a hand to the small of your back, flattened you facedown on the table’s surface with your ass hanging over the edge, and then stepped behind you, quietly. Quickly. Working to rid himself of clothes that were still clinging to his body like a second skin, Joel shrugged his shirt off, yanked his shorts and boxers the rest of the way to his feet, then kicked all three articles of clothing aside as he drew closer to you.
You heard four drawers open beside you, underneath you, in quick succession. Joel was rummaging again.
Where excitement normally would’ve taken root at this point—pleasure pooling between your legs as the man hastily procured a condom and tore the wrapper open, worked it onto his dick—you felt uncertainty instead. Sadness, even. You kicked your feet back and forth, toes scraping the oak floor as though the friction might conceivably rouse something lighter inside you. It didn’t.
Joel returned, and you couldn’t see his face. He gave your ass a taut smack, then kneaded the flesh in his palm, and you couldn’t be sure if he was smiling or frowning or simply glowering down at you with a look of indifference. When you felt his touch graze over your hands and tuck them coolly at the small of your back, you wanted to tilt your chin some to face him. You didn’t.
Instead, you stared at the wall across from the desk and hoped that he liked whatever he saw. When you felt something wrap around your wrists, you didn’t protest, only bit your lip and waited for him to tie it extra tight.
Joel leaned in and dropped a quick kiss on your shoulder.
The knot he made was snug but not suffocating.
You really wanted to see him now, for some reason.
“This OK?” Joel said. He tapped your wrists.
Before you could answer beyond just a nod, though, he tugged the knot and made a noise in his throat that sounded like a scoff. He pressed something cool and light against your palm, and a shiver pulsed through you.
“Is that…your, uh…” you breathed out an awkward laugh.
He’d tied your hands behind you with his whistle.
“Uh-huh,” Joel hummed, sounding pleased.
And in the next, you could hear a trace of a smirk:
“Always wanted to tie a slut up just like this, y’know?”
Ouch.
Joel was great with praise, but his degradation hurt a bit. You squeezed the metal whistle and tried to pretend like there wasn’t a strangely painful lump taking shape at the back of your throat—it shouldn’t have felt like that at all.
You shouldn’t care what a total stranger thought of you.
That’s all Coach Joel was after all: a stranger to fuck.
But as you felt him unclasp the fastenings at the bottom of your bodysuit, tug your panties down, and line himself up with your entrance from behind, you kind of wished he wasn’t. Maybe you’d been mistaken in initiating this thing and would’ve been better off accepting the date like he’d offered. Maybe then you wouldn’t feel so weird.
At any rate, he was already gripping your hips in his hands and starting to ease himself inside you. Groaning at the pressure and warmth enveloping his cock and uttering curse after curse with just the head notched in. You could sense the slightest sting of latex at your center; Joel’s girth felt every bit as imposing as it had looked, and now your face was screwed up with a wince trying to take him in. Your clit was untouched, throbbing.
Just as you’d bit down on your lower lip with discomfort, Joel dropped his head back and let out a satisfied groan.
“Fuck me,” he grunted, “You’re so…fuckin’ tight.”
Next, ‘good girl’ was quick to become a strangled refrain on his tongue as he worked a couple inches in and out of your aching hole. It felt okay, as you’d gotten plenty wet on your knees for him before, but it stung with each stab of his hips, and your body had gotten overly tense. Worse yet, Joel was so focused on getting himself in that his fingers still hadn’t found your clit. They massaged your ass instead, evidently in awe of how small you looked taking him inch by inch; the sight mesmerizing to him.
“Joel—” you started to whimper.
“This what ya wanted all along, huh? Gettin’ fucked over my desk like a little slut?” Joel’s words were equal parts indelicate and venomous—even sexy as they crawled off his tongue—but the tone with his thrusts was too much. He was gripping too hard, pushing too far, being unkind in a way that would’ve been alright if you were a doll. But you weren’t. The least you needed was concern. So, gently, you let out a breath and turned your head.
“Joel—”
Before bottoming out completely, Coach Joel slapped your ass once again and groaned through his teeth.
“C’mon an’ tell me how much ya like it, baby, how—”
“JOEL.”
He stopped. From the corner of your eye, you spied a startled, half-blanched face. Joel pulled out immediately.
“Wh— hey, you okay, sweetheart? Hey,” the man said, leaning in and loosening the restraints on your wrists. When you nodded for him to keep untying, please, he tugged the whole thing off and turned you back around,
“Is everything okay?”
His eyes were much wider than you’d expected to find them, hands gripping you by either arm as his gaze scanned your face. Out of some unsettled feeling, it seemed, he drew closer, hastily, until your legs were nearly enmeshed and his hands cupped your cheeks.
“I don’t…like that,” you answered in a small, soft voice.
“You don’t…” Joel trailed off, blinking slow at first, then appearing to process your words and turn to stroking the cusp of your jawline with his thumbs while he did.
When it hit just how much you hadn’t liked that and why, he paled even more. Like he couldn’t get his touch to be apologetic enough, his eyes soft and glossy and sorry.
“Did I—” Joel leaned in, squeezing your face, “I’m sorry—did I hurt you any? You can tell me, honey, honest.”
“Not much.” And you tried to crack a smile, but the man wasn’t having it. He switched positions, hoisting you up.
He carried you over to the sofa. Held you in a semi-awkward cradle once he realized the couch was all but broken in two from decades and decades of use, then resigned himself, gladly, to just holding you in his arms.
Pretending not to see you make a face as if to say, ‘Joel, I’m alright now,’ he nuzzled his own closer to yours and started sponging little kisses near your chin and neck.
“‘M’sorry,” he mumbled again, voice now stifled by skin.
You tried not to get too squeamish, or giggle in his hold, but the fact was that his lips were so light—feather-like, almost—and the places he was kissing were so sensitive, you couldn’t help but let out a couple sounds that were half-laugh, half-strangled gasp. With each one of these, Joel would start smiling in between affectionate pecks.
And his dark, dampened curls, though striated with grey, framed his face in a boyish way; he grinned and lost a decade. You were amazed what a difference a glimpse of him could make, and now that he was caressing you, kissing you, your body knew it too, suffused with warmth
When Joel’s lips found yours, you almost forgot it was the first time he’d done that today. Or ever. You kissed each other comfortably, without a shade of pretense or pause, and found that your mouths worked so well together it was a small wonder you hadn’t thought to do that sooner. Joel pulled away, still holding your face.
“We did this backwards,” he said, sounding deflated, “Date first, kiss second, embarrassingly bad sex last.”
You shrugged. Smiling. Silently hoping Joel hadn’t felt your cheeks warm while he cupped your face like that and then tried deflecting that attention away by saying:
‘Two out of three isn’t that bad, Coach.’
And, just as swiftly as he’d brought you over to the sofa, Joel had you flipped and pinned under his body on the old, misshapen cushions and squealing out a laugh.
“I thought ya wanted it rough, honey,” he groaned against your throat. Kissing the skin as you giggled.
“And your idea of rough is—” you started.
“Callin’ ya names, slappin’ your ass, all that kinda sh—”
“—constantly interrupting people while they talk, too?”
Joel suspended his affectionate ministrations just long enough to swap his lips and tongue with teeth, giving your neck a light bite. For all his outward displays of Southern gentility and gentleman-like behavior, he was, after all, still a coach: the kind of guy whose primary sustenance was competition, whose ability to hold a conversation reflected the desire to dominate, always.
Maybe he didn’t like having this fact brought to his attention, stated so plainly as his body blanketed yours and his head burrowed even deeper into your neck. Joel squeezed the sides of your body, about to pull you closer, when you squirmed out from under him and sat upright.
You glanced down and saw that Joel had already chucked the condom. He was starting to lean back into the sofa, length standing semi-erect against the shelf of his belly while his hands fumbled over your thighs and hips. Trying to steer you into his lap, he muttered another string of apologies along with some words like, ‘I know.’
“You’re right, I know I’m bad about that, I—” he began.
“Get another.”
Now you were the one to interrupt, limbs resisting his pull as you nodded to the desk. Telling him to go.
“You wanna—”
“Yeah.”
When Joel blinked a couple times and didn’t move, you stood up yourself. He reached for you; you ignored him. You strode over to the desk where he’d retrieved the condoms the first time and grabbed the box, snagged a square metallic wrapper out of it, and walked back over.
You sat down beside Joel and didn’t wait for him to take the lead. You tore the packet with your teeth and, careful not to chomp down on the latex itself, pulled the rubber out. It wasn’t until you sank down on your knees in front of Coach Joel on the wet, hard floor that he stirred at all.
He grabbed your wrist before you could slide it on.
“C’mere.”
Again, you resisted his efforts to pull you into his lap—‘Joel, I wanna do it now, I swear’—and when it seemed you were going to remain as defiant as you ever had been, on the floor, Joel leaned forward and kissed you.
Somehow, he reached you even deeper than he had before. You were on your knees, chin tilting to his and lips parting, slowly, and Joel cupped both sides of your face to drive his tongue inside. Now he wasn’t just touching but tasting, too, his efforts quick to be accompanied by the gentlest of sounds from his mouth to yours. Thumbing your cheeks even harder when his tongue moved against yours and a grunt crept out of his throat.
“I wanna—” he said in between soft, strained breaths.
You already knew what he was going to say. You shook your head against his before pulling away. Watching him watch you with a hungry look and follow you to the floor.
“I need you to fuck me, Joel,” you cut in. You scooted back and spread your legs, and Joel crawled forward.
He murmured something about eating you out, licking that pretty pussy clean before he gave it to you again, but you just told him no, again, and fisted the damp grey ringlets at the back of his head to pull him closer to you.
Joel was already slotting himself between your legs, dismayed not to be able to taste your cunt but also keen to join you as you came to lie supine on the floor before him. His eyes were alight with curiosity, mouth opening and closing with the threat of a teasing word or two on his tongue until you started to slide the condom down.
You almost couldn’t believe it yourself: how forward you were being—sober this time. With the sting from Joel’s first entry reduced to a mere throb between your legs, the space where he’d been before was pulsing, blood pumping, and with each new second you could feel the need amplify. Your legs curled around his waist and pulled him closer, hips inching forward on hardwood beneath him to get his cock pressed flush with your heat.
“Take it…real slow this time.” Joel was already sliding a hand under your head. Cradling the back of your skull as his tip moved over the wet and sticky warmth that had pooled between your folds. His eyes searched your face.
Just sensing the weight of his gaze, his grip, the restraint from his lower half as it hovered over yours, you already felt safer. Silly, almost, for how much that wordless reassurance and concern from Joel came as a comfort—and had you writhing under him for more, now, please.
“We’ll get there, hon, don’t you worry your pretty little head—” And as he said it, Joel pressed a kiss to your forehead, “—and if it hurts any, ya tell me, alright?”
“I will, Joel, please,” you whimpered.
Smooth and bulbous and just a pinch too snug in that latex, the head of Joel’s cock made a dizzying squelch against the rim of your cunt. The tip was all it took to remind you just how big he was, how tough it was probably going to be to adjust to his size, how—
“Hey,” Joel said, voice grounding you immediately.
You looked up to meet his gaze.
“I’m still takin’ you on a date, by the way,” he mumbled, and you smiled, “If you wanna save this part for later—”
As though your bodies had both said ‘no’ at once, Joel’s cock eased forward slightly, softly, and notched into the slick ring of muscles that had kept your parts separate. The intrusion was barely an inch, and not your very first, but it felt like a novelty—something tender and delicate to steal a breath from your chest and Joel’s—and the stretch, now, was a welcome one. Your legs tightened at Joel’s sides, and his lips pressed over your own, briefly.
“This okay?” he asked.
“Yeah,” you nodded.
“You sure?”
“Mmmh—ohhhh, fuck, yes, Joel.”
The words flew from your mouth without meaning to. Your hands moved up to his chest, his shoulders, squeezing his trap muscles and sinking your nails in the skin while a welt of pleasure blossomed between your legs. Joel kissed the corner of your mouth, smile already starting to tug at both ends of his. Then he kissed it again.
Joel swallowed his awe—and pride—and leaned closer.
“Shoulda been treatin’ her sweeter, baby, I’m sorry,” he hummed against your cheek. Then he sank his length even deeper inside and relished the soft pulse of you.
He was rutting gently with just half his dick, and still, your body and brain were on the fritz, all but overcome with that swollen, coiling bliss. You glanced down and were half enrapt with the heft of his stomach boring into yours. You trailed your fingertips over the soft plane of flesh, pinched it gently while Joel’s steady and shallow thrusts split you even further open, and you smiled, too.
“That’s a first,” he said, chuckle rumbling low.
“What? Fucking on the floor?”
“That�� that too,” Joel tried to make the same amused sound but was interrupted by a groan bubbling up in his throat. You’d clenched, and he drove in even deeper, “You…you touchin’ my, uh…my stomach, I mean.”
You pinched it again, feeling soft grey hairs in your palm.
“Your tummy?”
Joel couldn’t help but grin a little at the word.
“My tummy,” he repeated, as if he didn’t believe it.
Again, you could’ve sworn you saw a flush of pink creep up the side of his throat, but you decided not to mention it. Instead, you just slid your hands back up to his chest and stretched your legs even wider to take more of him in. Joel obliged with the last remaining inch and groaned.
You moaned too, squeezing tighter. He’d just bottomed out, and you were already, somehow, on the brink.
It didn’t matter that you were getting fucked on the frigid wood floor by your little brother’s baseball coach, water pooling around you and between you and commingling with the minuscule beads of sweat that were starting to form on your bodies. Joel was as handsome as he’d ever looked, brow drawn inward and lips taking the shape of an ‘o’ whenever they weren’t sponging kisses over yours. The stretch you felt was approaching euphoric now, walls fluttering with each slow and gentle stroke inside you. Joel was deep, and he was measured—and he was careful in the force of his thrusts, taking pains to watch your expression for any changes or signs of discomfort.
He was praising you, too. Strings of ‘Right there, baby—doin’ so good for me’ and ‘Feels so nice’ and ‘Keep goin’ were like music to your ears, nudging you closer and closer to climax with every tender thrust. When Joel’s hand descended to your hip and the cadence of his own body grew a little more deliberate and fixed, you were certain he would be teasing out your release any minute. You wound your fingers through his hair, preparing to pull tight in anticipation of that heady, blissful feeling.
Evidently, Coach Miller wasn’t as ready. He wrenched himself out of your grip and withdrew the next second.
And, try as you might to contain the sound, a whine tumbled off your lips, followed by a ‘Joel!’ just as quick. A hollow feeling swallowed your lower half; you felt you had no other choice but to prop yourself up on both elbows, cast a despondent look between your legs, and groan:
“I was so clo—”
“Couldn’t wait. ‘M’sorry, honey.”
You might’ve liked to give him a little more hell for that—particularly observing the smug smile that had crawled onto Joel’s face as he said it—but the feeling was short-lived. Just when you opened your mouth to speak, you watched him glide down your front. He was painstakingly slow, then swift as soon as he slipped between your legs. His shoulders bumped your thighs, heedless of the feeling the motion would evoke, and came to rest with his face between them. Happy. Or pleased—even eager.
You couldn’t fault him for that enthusiasm for long, either, because the next thing you knew, Joel’s mouth was lowering further. Slotting his lips and tongue against your glistening folds and nudging you gently, teasingly, as if knowing exactly what you lacked in that moment. Your fingers found his hair again and this time were free to tug as long as they liked; Joel busied himself intently.
He flattened his tongue and licked a stripe up your slit. He lapped at your folds, collecting whatever sweet, tangy parts of you had trickled out over the stretch of that morning, and didn’t flinch when the jolt of pleasure it sent caused your hands to make fists in his hair. In fact, the sting on his scalp only seemed to make his actions that much greedier. He grinned when you whimpered.
“Still close?”
The fucking tease.
“N-N— No shit, Miller.”
You hated the way his mouth made a faltering mess of your own. In spite of the impairment, though, it was clear that this state wouldn’t last for long; a couple more strokes of his tongue and a soft, semi-complaisant suction on your bundle of nerves and you would be gone.
Coach Miller was mean, but he wasn’t so cruel as to deny you the sublime pleasure of getting to cum in his mouth. With one hand, he gave your thigh a comforting squeeze, and with the other, he trailed his touch to your entrance. When his index and middle fingers first slid in, he held your leg again and stroked the skin in small, tight circles.
“You’re good, hey. You’re okay,” he assured you softly, the fingers of his other hand sinking even deeper.
You felt pathetic and squeamish, but the heft of that one push just felt so good. Paired with his tongue on your clit and a vicious little suckling here and there, his mustache dragging back and forth along the cusp of your mound, it came as no surprise to you or Joel when next your body tensed and your lower half flooded with pleasure.
What little remained of your resolve not to cry disintegrated in less than a second—by turns, your thighs clamped down around Joel’s head like a vice, your eyes squeezed shut, and the whine that tore out of your throat was as shrill and piercing and high as you’d ever heard it. Succeeded shortly by a fuck, fuck, FUCK, Joel, fuck and a gush of warmth down his chin, your climax couldn’t have been more pronounced if you’d tried. Fortunately, the fully-drenched man beneath you didn’t mind at all; if anything, he saw it as a personal success.
Climbing back up your body, bracketing his bare, muscly arms about your torso, and gripping the base of his cock, triumph was there, painted clear across his every feature. It softened his face. Made his length even stiffer and more ready than ever to re-enter your warmth before you could press so much as a hand to his chest, sighing gently. Joel snagged your lips between his for a kiss.
“That’s it, pretty girl, keep goin’.”
His words were muffled by your mouth—a tiny gasp.
“Gonna make this last a little while longer, that alright?”
He breached the first two inches of your swollen, shiny, still-pulsing cunt as if to punctuate the question. All raw and tender from the last orgasm he’d coaxed out of it, and being stretched around his tip without fair warning, your muscles spasmed again. You both let out a breath.
“It’s— Joel, it’s—”
Another inch. Almost too good to bear. The man appeared to nod in understanding, before he smoothed a hand over your face and cradled it. He drove in deeper, while your voice broke off in some low, muffled whine.
“A lot. I know,” he finished, softly, as if commiserating with you while splitting you open on his cock, “I know it’s a lot, baby. You just tell me if it gets to be too much.”
His words had all the air of a calm, measured authority, spoken in tones you knew too well. He sank further. No inflection quite as stern or steady could have belonged to anyone else but a coach, you reckoned. Coach Miller, the hard-boiled voice of reason for the baseball team, so-called ‘silent type,’ object of every last housewife’s desire—and also the guy you’d kneed in the dick that morning.
It was only fair he got to return the favor in his own way.
Now he was holding your hip in his free hand, pinning you down to the floor while he started to ease in and out of your cunt at a generous pace. He knew you were spent. He sensed he was already on the brink himself, most likely. He also probably knew he couldn’t leave your limp, boneless body well enough alone before he felt the urge to make you hurt a little too—and enjoy it, of course.
Joel was all shining, hopeful eyes as he stabbed inside and found that spot, watching your own flutter closed.
“Coach.” It came out without much thought on your part. It just seemed like the right thing to call him, no matter how ethically grey or downright weird it was.
Joel liked it.
He squeezed your palm when it reached for his, and he brought it up to his mouth, peppering soft, sloppy kisses across the back of your hand while he fucked you into the floor. Shamelessly, he also used your grip on him to gauge how near you were to your next release. From what he could tell in the sights and sounds and frantic little clinches of your fist, you were close. Still loath to give in to that feeling, or else afraid to accede so quickly after the last, though, your breaths were labored. Timid.
“I-I-I don’t know if I can,” you cried, shaking your head.
Inside you, there was a big, swelling something taking shape at the pit of your gut, and with each new brush of Joel’s cock, it only got larger. The sensation was so keen and acute it might well be construed as pain if he kept at this any longer. You didn’t know if you could cum again.
“Go on an’ try, sweet pea,” Joel cooed and lowered your hand, still grasping his, between your trembling legs, “Won’t take any more’n a second or two, just touch—”
His thumb fumbled with yours and made a hapless little circuit on your clit, which almost shrieked at the feeling.
“—right here, and—”
“Fuck me,” you panted.
Your fingers and his were drenched in your nectar, all but oozing down with each slick, deliberate thrust from Joel.
“That’s what I’m doin’, no? Ya like it?” He couldn’t help it.
Frankly, neither could you. From the near-sated, happy-and-about-to-cum-on-your-dick glint in your eye, you sensed he’d know what you meant when you said, next:
“It hurts.”
“Good?” Joel grinned.
“So good.”
The man delivered a thrust that felt like it might puncture your lungs, and with it, your last resolve.
He drew even closer, until his nose and yours were brushing, smiles faint but there all the same, and his thumb guiding your own across your throbbing clit:
“Give it here, baby. Make me feel it.”
And you did. With one more stroke inside, you let it all flood out, cunt spasming and pulsing and leaking liquid heat down the length of Joel’s cock. He fucked you full, only the condom between you, and as your moans gave way to whimpers and whines, the noises in his own throat took on an even more desperate kind of timbre.
Your stuffed, overstimulated hole felt as greedy as it had ever been, and the man rutting into it was still needier. Using your body, squeezing your hand, panting out hot and frantic breaths that all but begged you to keep letting him fill your cunt—please, baby, feels so damn good, keep goin’. Try as he might to maintain the upper hand whenever he could, it was clear this time around he was fucked, top to bottom and ten ways to next week. He had a look that struck you as pleased, pained, and on the last trembling webs of cum being emptied from his body, Coach Miller held onto your face and kissed you.
While your highs died down, he stayed inside—still kissing, grunting, mumbling how good you felt. You barely had the presence of mind to hear it, but you smiled and let him go on. You’d made a mess of yourself.
Of Joel, too. Apart from the sheen of sweat and still-damp and dripping hair, his body was wrecked. Groaning. Lower stomach painted with your slick, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Now that the fucking was done and the room was mostly consumed by silence and strangled breaths, you had the distinct, albeit less sexual, pleasure of seeing some other things.
Like the way the joints in the coach’s knees made a pop when he tried to sit up. How the soft and weathered face pinched tighter, wrinkled further as he ventured to drag you with him, in what would eventually only be a semi-seated position on the floor, against the coffee table. How you straddled his lap, still impaled, and felt a groan vibrate through his chest when you tilted your hips the tiniest bit. He just might’ve grimaced if he wasn’t so spent and lazily fixated on you, eyes glued to your lips. He traced the seam of it with his thumb, looking amused.
“You really thought I was tryin’ to kidnap ya earlier, huh?”
Your cheeks warmed. You hoped he wouldn’t feel it.
“Well, you…you were reaching for me!”
Menacingly, you wanted to add.
“Grabbed you a couple times after that, too, didn’t I?”
And the smile on Joel’s face said he’d already felt the temperature rise in yours. You tried turning your head, embarrassed, but he held it, letting his palms sink in.
“Yeah, well, I’d say we’re even now, Coach.” Your words came out a bit muffled with his hands squishing your cheeks between them. Adamant as you were, defiance was hard to feign when the man was making you pout. You made as if to get up, but Joel just held on tighter.
“Far from it,” he said. He kissed your puckered lips, and you couldn’t ignore the little flutter in your stomach.
“How come?”
“‘Cause I owe you a date.”
You should’ve known he wasn’t the kind to give up, or forget, that easily. Even when you gave a playful push to his chest, pretended not to revel in the spattering of kisses he’d begun dropping along your collarbone—‘That’s a bad idea and we both know it, Coach’—he just pulled you even further into himself, and you felt your defenses falter, if only for a second. Maybe he was right.
“I can take you now,” Joel added.
“Like hell you will,” you laughed.
Your voice was even, but beneath it, the façade unsure. Joel was lifting you to your feet, then looking around.
“I know a place,” he continued, casual. His eyes scanned the room, and you surmised he was looking for clothes. When they landed on the shirt and shorts he’d left for you on the desk, he walked right over. He handed them to you. While you dressed, he grabbed another set from the desk drawer and began doing the same, going on:
“It’s this spot called ‘Amy’s.’ I hear they’ve got gr—”
“Joel.”
Your eyes met his again, expecting to find a smirk on his face. You saw no such expression. Instead, he watched you earnestly. Drew the drawstrings in on his too-tight shorts and smiled. You had to fight with every fiber of your being not to do the same as he strode back over and stood in front of you. You shook your head at him.
“Not happening,” you said. Your lips twitched once.
Meanwhile, Joel’s were stretching into a full grin.
Before you could stop him, he was pulling you out of the office. Leading you back down the hallway from earlier. Your footsteps echoed all through the concrete corridor.
“Think Sam’ll kick my ass when he sees us?” he mused.
“Probably just knee you straight in the dick.”
Even from where you were being tugged along behind Joel, you could feel him wince. He flashed you a sidelong glance, and you returned it with a half-apologetic smile.
“I kissed it all better, didn’t I?”
“I think you missed a couple spots, I dunno.”
And with that, Joel was smirking. Shooting you a wink.
You groaned at the memory of David doing the same.
“Please never do that again,” you begged him.
You strolled into the locker room together.
“Do what?”
“Wink.”
“Oh.”
Joel was slinging the strap of his bag over his shoulder.
“Is that…” he started.
“Creepy as shit? Correct.”
He nodded back in wordless acknowledgment, but deep down, you sensed he was most definitely going to wink at you again at some point in the day, just to piss you off.
You’d get him back eventually.
Or maybe kiss the few remaining spots left untouched.
You were about to tell him as much—maybe give him a preview of what was to come with some road head on the way over to Amy’s, for fun—when you paused. You and Joel were walking back down the hall and headed to the exit when you felt something vibrate in your pocket.
You pulled your phone out and checked the screen.
From: Sam
Leaving Amy’s now
Don’t need a ride 😁
Why the fuck a nine-year-old even had an iPhone was beyond you. You typed as you walked alongside Joel.
From: You
Where are you going?
You approached the set of exit doors and stepped out.
From: Sam
Movies. Frank’s driving us.
You were headed out to the parking lot, listening to Coach Joel argue his case for taking his truck to Amy’s.
From: You
Who’s us? Are y’all gonna need a ride back?
From: Sam
Sarah ☺️
The little shitbird never elaborated when he was talking about his plans. You followed Joel out to his vehicle and thanked him as he helped you into the passenger seat. You weren’t really listening as you focused on the texts.
From: You
Sarah who?
Joel was starting his truck. Cranking the A/C and the volume on the radio—an ‘80s rock station, of course.
John Mellencamp’s voice flooded the cabin, and you could feel Joel’s grin kick up. Luckily, it wasn’t the song.
Something or other about authority, you heard dimly.
Sam was taking forever to reply. You were on the way.
From: You
Sarah who??
“Everything okay over there?” Joel asked. He reached over and squeezed your leg to punctuate the question.
You blinked. You nodded once.
“Yeah, it’s just my brother. He’s…going on a date, I think.”
Again, Joel’s smile stretched wider, like this was news.
“No shit? He’s only like nine years old,” he chuckled.
“Yeah. Third grade going on thirty, this kid.”
You watched your text conversation as if staring harder might procure another message. It stayed the same.
Meanwhile, Joel was pulling onto the highway, and his palm was moving up your thigh. The music played loud.
Your gaze flitted to his, and in it, you saw a brazen look.
“Where’s he takin’ her?” His fingers crawled further up.
Joel would be pulling off to the side of this roadway if he didn’t ease up. You spread your legs a little wider for him.
“The movies, it sounds like,” you murmured back.
Then you grinned and were about to set your phone aside when it vibrated in your hand. You glanced down.
“Sounds like a fun place to go,” Joel hummed, probably thinking of all the things he’d like to do to you in a theatre
From: Sam
Sarah Miller
You scanned over that message and didn’t think twice. Something registered in your mind—a faint recollection of that name, and then a sweet, cheerful face you’d seen at Sam’s school before—and you had to smile a little bit.
You liked Sarah Miller.
You were glad Sam seemed to like her too.
Nerves easing a little bit now, you texted back. Telling him to have fun and be safe, call me when you need a ride home. You couldn’t contain the smile on your lips.
Apparently seeing this pleased look, Joel slid his hand to the inside of your thigh and squeezed again. He brushed the heel of his palm against your shorts, then inched it backward, so that he was grazing the soft heat between your legs. You squirmed a little bit but didn’t stop him. In fact, your teeth snagged your bottom lip, and you were subsequently forced to stifle a sound. Joel leaned over.
“We’re ten minutes out. Think you can be a good girl and cum on my fingers just once before then?” he whispered.
The truck was humming along. The air was warm. The music was as deafeningly loud as ever, and your skin was quickly growing damp with sweat, but you were game.
Biting down on the smallest fragment of a whimper, you nodded your head. Joel’s fingers dove under your shorts.
“Oh, but…” you trailed off, sucking in a quick breath. Remembering. “We gotta get back to my car right after ice cream. Sam’s probably gonna need a ride home.”
Joel groaned.
Evidently, he’d had other plans post-Amy’s.
“Can’t the girl’s parents drive ‘em home or somethin’?”
“It’s just her dad, I think. Sam and Sarah have been fri—”
“Sarah?”
Suddenly, Joel’s gaze was darting right. Meeting yours. The fingers that were moments away from plunging deep within your heat were drawing back. Halting.
“A friend from school,” you finished slowly. “Sarah Mill—”
Oh.
Oh.
“Miller? Sarah Miller?” Joel interjected again, eyes wide.
You’d never made the connection.
You just remembered the kid with the bright, warm smile and thought nothing else. What are the odds she’d be—
“My daughter?!”
It seemed Joel’s right hand had completely forgotten its former mission, in favor of freaking out about his kid with your brother, in a movie theatre. Alone. Protective dad mode had kicked in instantaneously, and you couldn’t help but smile seeing that development. You sighed at the loss of his fingers but almost wanted to laugh when you saw the truck’s navigation shift from the ice cream shop to the closest movie theatre. Joel’s nostrils flared.
“But our date, Joel,” you whined, tone all faux protest.
Joel shot you a look and glowered at your teasing smirk.
“You’ll get your date, sweetheart,” he answered. Promised. His grip tightened on the wheel and twisted. “Just gotta make sure my player knows how to behave.”
Something told you he wasn’t talking about baseball.
“Whatever you say, Coach. Whatever you say.”
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adoredaqua · 3 months ago
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random things that i personally think are Sevika coded cause im so in love with this woman, someone restrain me
NOTE: this has been sitting in my drafts for a while, so here y'all go :))!
CW: mainly fluff! there's one suggestive one (not explicit), but i put it towards the end! not edited 😔
when you first started dating, she was so nervous around you. she would rehearse the compliments in her head before telling you.
is the type to stare at you (like very intensely). at first, it put you off, but then you realized that's her way of admiring you
doesn't really text you. she prefers to call cause she likes to hear the sound of your voice.
^but if she does texts you, she sends pictures of things that remind her of you!
takes board games very seriously. at first, she would pretend like she doesn't really care, but she's very close to yelling at everyone cause they "don't know the rules"
the "dad" friend
^ you can call her for anything. your sink is broken? she's on her way. need to change your tire? she'll do it for you and teach you (as much as she likes to do things for people. she also believes you need to be prepared for anything)
such a good cook but unfortunately doesn't have the time to, she's too busy :(. but when she does, it's heaven on a plate. she's also mastered your favorite food, every time she makes it, it's perfect
sevika doesn't actually like fighting with you. so as soon as you tell her that she upset you, she is apologizing on her knees with flowers and showering you with kisses
good at taking care of plants. she only has one right now.
^ the plant is named after you but that's a secret of hers
if you ask her to take care of your plants, she's a great caretaker. they'll probably be healthier when she gives them back to you lol
definitely has a picture of you in her wallet!! a cute one she shows off to people and a... one for her eyes only ;)
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sevsevteen · 23 days ago
Note
hi!! love reading your stuff so much!! if its okay, can you do one where 14th member gets her period without realizing during rehearsal and then is just mad and screams at everyone lmao but then when she storms out the guys see the stain on her pants and pamper her? its kinds specific ig lol but just ignore this if you don’t feel comfy writing this kind of stuff!! ❤️❤️❤️
Hello darling! I've never thought about this before. Writing was deffo so interesting and i loved it. Periods are completely normal, but of course there are always people who want to keep them lowkey - which is the readers' case!! enjoy reading~
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-- જ⁀➴°⋆
“Alright! One more run-through before break!” the choreographer called, clapping her hands.
The stage echoed with heavy breaths and squeaky shoes against the wooden floors. Sweat dripped down the members’ backs, but the energy was still high - it always was when they were preparing for a live stage.
You had been fine just ten minutes ago.
Focused, in sync, doing your best as always.
Until a twinge of something unmistakably familiar bloomed low in your stomach - a dull cramp that made you flinch mid-step.
You cursed under your breath.
Moving to the back row during the choreo reset silently, your heart pounded. Your hands trembled slightly as you pretended to adjust your mic pack, quickly tugging your hoodie up from the back to peek at your backside.
Your stomach dropped.
A blotch of dark red had bloomed across the seat of your white trousers. It was faint, but obvious against the pale fabric.
You froze, panic settling in your bones - you tracked your menstruation, you always did. But this one came way earlier than you'd expected.
Nature called, right?
Your face flushed both white and red at the same time, overcome by the embarrassment of having to declare such a personal detail and walk off mid-set.
Just one more song. You told yourself to hold until lunch break, all while your mood turned sharp. You could only stay toward the back, unusually quiet, limbs suddenly hesitant to make any sudden movement that would expose you.
“You were off-beat before, don’t slack just because you’re tired!” Hoshi called out from the front.
You only nodded.
“Don’t ignore us!” Seungkwan teased, practically jumping over to grabbing your wrist, trying to pull you to the front. “C’mon, center! You’re the visual, remember?”
“No, it's fine-” You frantically shook your head, pulling and scratching at Seungkwan's hand to let go as you leaned back, shoes dragging against the wood.
A few others chimed in.
“Stop sulking and get up here.”
“Don’t hide in the back, you look grumpy~”
“Guys, don’t drag her-” Joshua started gently, sensing the shift in your expression.
But it was too late, a surge of frustration boiling over.
“Can you all just stop?!” You snapped, voice coming out sharper than you intended. “I said I didn’t want to be in front!”
The members fell silent, a few staff halting mid-action to peek at your business.
The boys blinked, taken aback - not because you yelled, but because it wasn’t like you.
Anger was replaced with embarrassment when you pulled away, hard. A string of curses leaving your mouth as you bolted off the stage, nearly tripping as you ran.
The area remained frozen for a second. And it was only when Vernon, who was closest to your back when you ran, caught a glimpse of the stain.
His eyes widened. “…Shit.”
That was all it took.
Immediately, everyone went into quiet panic mode.
“Where are the extra sweats?”
“Jihoon, where’s her bag?”
“I’ll get pads - there’s a convenience store downstairs!” Mingyu grabbed his wallet and bolted.
“Chan, check if she’s in the washroom!”
Joshua ran to grab a jacket in case you needed to cover up. “Why didn’t we notice sooner?”
.
You sat curled up on the small couch in the waiting room, hoodie sleeves tugged over your hands, legs tucked beneath you. Fortunately, one of the female dancers had an extra pair of shorts, so you didn't need to waddle around in your stained pants.
The pain had dulled with the heat pack resting on your stomach, but the sting in your chest lingered - not from the cramps, but the guilt.
Plus, your face was still red - more from humiliation than anything.
You replayed the scene in your head over and over. The fierce push. The shocked looks on their faces. The way you ran.
They were just joking. You didn’t have to lash out.
You sighed quietly, burying your face in the crook of your arm.
But then came the soft knock, and the door creaked open.
Seokmin peeked in first. “...We come in peace?”
You perked up, surprised to Seungkwan holding up what looked like a paper bag with doodles and stickers all over it.
You blinked. “What is that?”
“The solution to all future period emergencies,” Dino announced proudly.
“Painkillers, chocolate, gummy bears, pads in every size and style, heat packs, an extra changes of sweatpants, a random rom-com book I grabbed off the shelves, a comb, a mini mirror–” Hoshi listed off like he was presenting a war strategy.
“And a tiny plushie for emotional support,” Seokmin added, holding up a doa plush.
“You guys…” You whispered, voice small. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell.”
“You thought we’d be mad?” Joshua asked gently, crouching down to your level. “You’re allowed to feel overwhelmed. You don’t have to hide it from us.”
“For our member, whose pain we can’t feel but whose heart we’ll always protect.” Jeonghan stroked your head gently.
Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes - not from pain, but from the rush of relief. Of being seen. Of being loved, even at your most vulnerable.
“You guys are too much,” you wiped your eyes with a sleeve.
“Yeah, well,” Vernon shrugged. “So are your cramps.”
Laughter erupted - gentle and healing. You finally smiled wide, hugging the emergency kit to your chest. The embarrassment melted - not erased, but surrounded by so much love that it didn’t hurt quite as much.
Maybe bleeding through your pants once wasn’t the worst thing to ever happen.
--
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copperbadge · 2 months ago
Note
After watching a random celebrity “What’s in Your Bag?” video, I got curious (or maybe just nosy, lol) and started asking everyone the same question. So, what’s in your bag? Or, if you’re not the type to carry one, what’s in your pockets?
Oh I definitely carry a bag! I'm a sucker for messenger bags. But because of that I have a lot of different bags.
So, I have a basket near my front door that always holds my bag gear. Whenever I go out, the basket is my last checkpoint; when I come home I often empty my bag into the basket.
Here's what I usually carry:
Wallet, containing legal ID, at least two credit cards, and usually about $40 in cash
Case containing my backup battery and at least one charging cord plus a Deejo pocket knife and a comb
Headphones, though I don't know if those count since I usually pop them in my ears before I leave
At least two granola bars -- usually Clif bars -- because I get hypoglycemic easily and a Clif bar is nutritionally balanced to fix hypoglycemia
A travel pack of tissues
A tin of mints
A KN-95 backup mask (I usually carry a fabric mask for regular wear)
A plastic shopping bag or collapsible bag
A pill box with pills for pain, allergy, sleep, and ADHD, plus bandaids
I almost always add some things not from the basket, because they're perishable -- a water bottle on a D-ring that I can clip to the bag strap to keep it upright, and a small Tupperware box of cashews for snacking.
If I'm going somewhere fun I might tuck a few weed gummies into my pillbox. If I'm going somewhere far, a little bag with whatever cross stitch I'm working on.
I might be a little obsessive. But I have a reputation for being prepared and I love that reputation, and every time someone says "of course you have that, you're Sam" I fill with delight.
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binniesbooks · 11 months ago
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• SANDWICH
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TXT 019 .F05 2024
wc 6.8k
pairings Nickjudyz!TXT x fem!reader
warnings reader was described as poor, Yeonjun and Soobin being loaded, growing alone, self relieving, oral sex (Soobin receiving), slight cum eating, squint to see some fingering, unprotected sex, breeding kink if you squint once more, pet names, degradation, boob kink for Soobin if you squint again lol, bigcock!Soobin, bigcock!Yeonjun, virgin!reader, threesome, double vaginal penetration (hit me up if I forgot something)
faye's note took me not only a week to finish this! Omg! Nevertheless, HAPPY 100 FOLLOWERS! Thank you so much guys, I love you all! 😭❤️ Please continue on supporting me and my fics. I promise to hold an event soon if we reach another milestone :> Cheers🥂!
Growing up alone, you've done everything to survive. Even when you were still a child, you worked for yourself. Doing laundry for the neighbors, helping the market vendors, walking pets—doing anything just so that you could earn a small profit.
Now that you're a college student, you've been hired by the school cafeteria due to the dean's empathy. You have a small space in the cafeteria for your small business, selling sandwiches. Every break time, lunch, and when you were vacant, you would quickly make your way to the school cafeteria to sell your products. You've been selling other foods too, like juice drinks and chips, but mainly sandwiches.
You would always wake up early in the morning to prepare everything you needed for your products.
"How much for a sandwich?" A tall, handsome man stood in front of your stall while you were busy cleaning your table.
"2 500 won, each," you smiled at the guy before you.
"I'll get two, please," he said as he pulled out his wallet.
"I'll just wrap it!" You cheerfully answered, not wanting to show how tired you are.
You're basically tired, not just today. But just tired of your whole life. Many times you tried ending it, but you always chickened out. And nothing changed. You struggle with your daily life. You can barely pay rent and your other bills. If it wasn't for the financial assistance given by the school dean and your side hustles, you surely wouldn't have been able to manage.
"Thank you! Enjoy your snack!" You cheerfully thanked the guy as you bowed down.
"Hyung! Come get your snack!" You heard the tall male call for someone over the other side of the cafeteria. Your gaze moved towards the other male. He's a little shorter than the first one. But he has a quite pretty face: pouty lips and captivating eyes. Handsome, yes.
"Yup! They're our seniors. They're also known as the Nickjudyz." You later found out from your friend that they were your seniors; they are a year older than you, and they were both scheduled to run for the presidential position on the student council for the upcoming election. Not that they wanted it, but actually, the campus dean had assigned both of them to different party lists at that. So basically, they didn't have a choice at all.
"Nickjudyz? What does that mean?" you questioned.
"You haven't heard of the animation movie Zootopia? They were the epitome of Nick the Red Fox and Judy the Rabbit," your friend explained. "Yeonjun's features were like those of a fox, and Soobin's a rabbit. Aren't they cute?" she added, giggling.
So the taller one was Soobin, and the one with sharper looks was Yeonjun, you understood now. "Nickjudyz..." you mumbled.
That night, you watched Zootopia, taking notes on the characters. And the next day, your sandwiches were Zootopia-themed. You were really waiting for the two of them to come and buy from you again.
However, luck was not on your side. When you weren't able to see them around, you felt sad. They were the reason you made your sandwiches Zootopia-themed.
You were about to close your stall when the shorter guy, Yeonjun, was running towards you. "Sandwich! Two!" he shouted with a wide grin. "Uhm, do you still have some?" He scratched the back of his head, realizing you were about to close your stall.
"I, uh, kept two pieces, actually. I thought you might come again." You hesitated at first.
"Nice! We just came out of the dean's office, and we hadn't managed to eat anything, you're a lifesaver," Yeonjun sighed in relief, pulling out his wallet from his back pocket.
After those times, you always got to sell your sandwiches to them. You even grew closer to them thanks to the short interaction you get to share with them every day. Sometimes, Soobin would be the only one to come, sometimes, it's just Yeonjun, sometimes they are both standing in front of your stall, buying themselves a sandwich. They became your regular customers.
"How about I recruit you to be my secretary on my party list? I still haven't recruited my secretary yet," Yeonjun suggests when he buys from you again one time.
You didn't know why you answered, though. It's not like you actually wanted to be a part of the student council. Maybe it was because of his pretty eyes and his cute pout. "I-i'll think about it."
He smiled and went away, skipping.
The next day, Soobin also suggested the same. "I already recruited her, Soob." Yeonjun wrapped his arms around the taller guy.
"Hyung, that's unfair!" Soobin pouted, only for Yeonjun to chuckle. "Oh! I have an idea!" he exclaimed.
"And that is?" Yeonjun looked at him, confusion written on his face.
"Why don't we let her choose from the two of us, instead?" Soobin chimed.
You froze from wiping the glass cabinet for your sandwich. "Wait, you're actually letting me choose between your party lists?" you asked, stunned at Soobin's suggestion. The two males just nodded at you.
Yes, you had built some connections with them. You can even consider it friendship, well, that's what they've said to you too. But to choose between the two of them to support, you think it's unfair. Especially since they were both good friends to you.
"Gosh, how can I? It's unfair," you groaned, Yeonjun chuckled.
"You can just think about it, but remember that if you don't choose me, you'll tear my heart apart," he pouted.
"See? That's what I'm saying! I don't want anyone of you to feel bad," you sighed, spraying Yeonjun with water from your bottle sprayer.
Soobin hummed, sipping on the canned soda in his hand. "Maybe you can choose if you got help from the both of us," he suggested.
"Come to think of it. Lately, I've been too busy with my business that I wasn't able to catch up again on some of my activities." You sat down on your chair, removing your apron. "Since you're both my seniors, how about you teach me?" you added.
"Like, tutor you or something?" Soobin said, turning over to you. You quickly nodded. "I might consider your request if you do so," you grinned.
Long story short, Soobin and Yeonjun both agreed on giving you a tutoring session.
It's been almost a week. The session went well. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just them teaching and assisting you.
You always do your sessions at the school's library or the town's public library. Anywhere but your house. You know the three of you won't fit in that small studio. Considering they are tall towers, you often tease them with this, in which they often rebut you that you're just short.
"Should we end it here today? I mean, I still have a part-time job to go for at 6," you glanced at your phone secretly—the screen broke and an old model—you don't want them to see that, at least.
Actually, they were far out of your league, even just as friends. Sometimes, you would even think about not showing up near them anymore, but guilt would always eat you up. They've been so good to you, they like to help you out at your stall sometimes when they are free.
"Say, how many side hustles do you have? I don't mean to offend you, but why do you need so many jobs?" Yeonjun, showing his little curious side, tilts his head a bit. Is he confused? Maybe. Is he mocking you? No, his eyes doesn't tell you that.
You sighed, not wanting to hide your situation anymore, not with how his curious eyes were boring holes in your face. "For weekdays, I go to school, and work at the cafeteria for some time," you paused, looking at Soobin, who was staring at you too for a while now. "At 7, I work at a convenience store down my street, and clock out at 12."
Soobin's eyes were full of concern. "Do you even have time for yourself? Time to study? Time to rest?" he shoots.
You shook your head and continued to speak, "I study for a bit, and I sleep before 2, then wake up at 6 again to prepare for my business, given that our class starts at 8 in the morning."
"Are you trying to kill yourself?" Yeonjun frowns after knowing you could barely rest.
"It does not end there yet," you chuckled. "On Saturdays and Sundays, I work at a cafe from 6–12 in the morning, work at the laundry shop from 1-4 in the afternoon, head straight here for our sessions, and catch a night of restaurant work from 6–11."
You could pick their jaws off the floor. You chuckled at their reaction. "Are you still alive? Tell me if I'm talking to a ghost..." Yeonjun hugs himself dramatically. "Hyung, don't be like that." Soobin slaps his shoulder, emitting a whine from the older man.
"I should get going now, see you on Monday!" You quickly got up to your feet and waved at them as you ran outside.
That Monday, you saw yourself working with the two males at your stall. They were the ones selling your sandwich. And since they've got the face, the reputation, and all, your sales suddenly skyrocketed. You needed to run to the nearest store near your school to buy what you needed to restock.
"Achoo!"
"That's your 99th time sneezing today, little angel," Yeonjun said, without turning to face you, still busy cleaning the glass cabinet.
"I'm okay, don't worry - Achoo!"
The next day, you were nowhere to be found. The sandwich stall was not open and no sneezes could be heard.
"Bin, I just realized... We actually have no way to contact her," Yeonjun was tapping his fingers on the cool steel table of your stall.
"I wonder what happened to her," Soobin sighed, rummaging through your stall, foolishly hoping to find some way to contact you.
"Let's go to the faculty, I have an idea," Yeonjun suggested.
"What? No, we can't disclose any information about students to other students, so no," the school administrator declined his request.
"Pleeeasseee, sir," Yeonjun begs, only to be declined again.
"Uhm, she's... She's my secretary for the election, so I need to have her information, at least," Soobin butts in.
"Your name?" The admin asked Soobin.
"Soobin. Choi Soobin, sir."
The two of them quickly ran out of the faculty as soon as they got what they needed. Quickly excusing themselves from their respective classes, claiming they have some emergency to tend to.
You woke up to the irritating ringing of your doorbell. You were not expecting any visitors today.
"Goodness, who could it be..." You stood up only to fall back down on your bed again because of dizziness. You felt the drilling pain on your head again that you had felt since last night. You shiver, pulling your jacket to yourself, yet you can feel yourself so sticky because of sweat.
"Who is--" Your eyes widened the moment you were met with two tall guys standing in front of your studio. You quickly slammed your door and leaned against it.
'What the hell are they doing here?! How did they find me? Oh my god!' You panicked, screaming inside your head.
"Angel," you heard Yeonjun whisper, "Can we come in?"
"H-how did you find where I live?" you asked. Dumb question. They could just ask around the faculty. "Dummy," you whispered to yourself, facepalming yourself.
You opened the door and peeked at them. "Hi, hehe," you awkwardly smiled at them.
"C-come in..." You opened the door wide, welcoming them to your small studio.
"We're gonna let ourselves in," Soobin mumbled, removing his shoes from the doorstep.
Their eyes were welcomed by a small bed that could barely fit two people in the corner. A small study table is beside it, stacked with books and a broken phone on top, and with a small dresser near the bed.
A single-seater dining table on the other side with some instant foods and a portable stove.
Their eyes roamed a little more. A closed door, they assumed, was the rest room, just sat near the doorstep.
"I... I don't think my place is enough to fit the three of us..." you fidgeted, sitting on your bed as your head spun again, making you shut your eyes tightly.
"You were sick after all," Soobin commented. "I'll just go out, I'll come back quickly," he said as he carefully stepped out of your place.
"So... This is where you live?" Yeonjun sat on the chair at your dining table. You meekly nodded. "All of those side hustles for this place?" he added.
You know he does not mean to offend you once again, yet you felt yourself getting embarrassed. "I barely survive... Even from those multiple part-time jobs. N-not to mention that—cough, excuse me.. I am paying loans too," you explained as you lay down on your bed, feeling your body burn up again.
Your gaze returned to Yeonjun when you heard him talk.
"Buy cough medication as well, Bin. And, oh, a few fruits too if you don't mind."
"Why are you looking for me, by the way?" you asked, pulling the blanket to cover yourself.
"We were worried, of course. How can we not? Plus, we weren't able to eat a sandwich today," he smiled, even though he knows you're not looking at him.
Yeonjun stood up. "Towels," he said.
You looked at him confused. "Huh?"
"Where are your towels?" he asked himself.
You pointed at the dresser, "Lowest part."
"I can't believe my tongue didn't taste any of your sandwiches today, angel. Do you know how much I crave for it every day?" You heard the water running in your restroom for a moment.
Yeonjun gently pats the wet towel on your forehead, wiping your face as well. He even hesitated at first to wipe your neck, shaking his head in the process.
"Don't you have any classes?"
"We do, but we excused ourselves. What can we do? We have an emergency at home," he smiled at you.
"Dummy, this ain't your home, Mr. Pouty Lips," you chuckled.
"Why not? Look, I even have a patient here at home," he says, tucking your straying hair behind your ear. His hand gently grazed your face, and you unconsciously leaned on his cool hand.
"Your hand feels cool..." you mumbled, squirming under the blanket. He then cupped your face, gently rubbing your cheek. Your eyes flutter closed as you feel relaxed beneath his touch.
"Pretty little angel." His voice was faint, even lower than a whisper.
"I'm back." Yeonjun snapped his head towards the door as Soobin closed it behind him. "How is she, hyung?"
"She fell asleep, she's burning hot, though." Yeonjun placed the towel on your forehead. "Hey Bin, you know how to make porridge, right? We should at least make her something warm."
You woke up again, but this time it was because of resounding murmurs filling up the small room.
"Hey angel, you're up?"
"You're still here?" you grunted as you tried your best to get up, receiving a helping hand from Yeonjun.
"You have to eat," Soobin says as he walks towards you with a plate with porridge in a bowl. "It's still warm, you'll feel better," he adds.
Soobin sat on the side of your bed, still holding the plate. Yeonjun stacking your pillows for you to lean on, as he ordered you to scoot back.
"Open your mouth y/n," Soobin scooped a spoonful of porridge.
"I can do it, you know," you chuckled.
"Please let me."
Soobin fed you the porridge he cooked. Yeonjun was at your table, peeling and slicing some fruits. "You should've taken care of yourself more," Yeonjun nags.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Pouty Lips," you said as you flashed a smile at him. "I don't have any choice but to work."
You have been sick many times, but no one has ever been there to take care of you. No one cooked for you but yourself. You buy medicines alone, even when you are burning up. You needed to do your chores even when you got too dizzy to stand up. "I'm grateful to you two, this is the first time I have experienced being cared for."
And that's when they realized they needed to take care of you. That's when it registered in their minds that they needed to stay beside you. You're their precious little angel, whom they needed to take care of. A fragile person who still needs someone to be their companion.
"We're heading home for now, okay? We'll be back tomorrow, please rest a lot." His once captivating eyes were now full of worry, and his pouty lips became more pouty as he talks to you.
"Go now." Your smile wasn't forced at all. It was genuine. Your heart thumps as you recall how they took care of you. You were floating on cloud nine.
Yeonjun walked outside first, and Soobin stopped midway, turning back as he quickly tracked back towards you. "If anything happens, call me... please," he handed you a small note in which you assumed was his number.
Yeonjun came back the next day early in the morning just to see Soobin cooking breakfast while you were sitting on your bed like you'd've been awake for the past few hours.
"Is this why you weren't answering your phone?" he asked.
"Sorry, hyung, y/n called me in the middle of the night. Her temperature went up," the taller man sighed.
Yeonjun sat beside you, placing his hand on your forehead. "Do you feel okay now?" he asked as he cupped your face, his face merely an inch away from yours. You nodded, but you didn't even pull back. Maybe it's because his cool hands were on your cheeks, or maybe you were just feeling too hot. You actually don't know. All you knew was that you were feeling butterflies from his touch.
You watched how his pretty lips parted, how his tongue glossed his lips.
Which is to blame? You, who maybe, have a tiny crush on him that makes you wanna kiss him? Or Yeonjun, that may or may not be, doing this on purpose while his face was way too close to yours?
You tightly shut your eyes. Were you assuming a kiss?
"Angel, food is ready," he announced, standing up from your bed.
You opened your eyes, and you watched him look at Soobin, as they seemed to talk with their eyes.
"I'm glad it's Saturday today. There's nothing else to do." Soobin stretches his feet, plopping down on your bed after eating. "I feel so sleepy," he muttered, his eyes fluttering close.
Yeonjun lay beside him, closing his eyes with a smile plastered on his face. You, on the other hand, just came out of the bathroom.
You placed your hands on both of your waists. "How am I supposed to rest now? You're hogging my bed."
Soobin pretended to snore as he let Yeonjun hide on his back, trying to hold back his snickers.
Maybe you could let them rest. It won't hurt to let them rest after receiving a lot of favors.
"I have a test this coming Thursday, I don't know if I would be able to pass the test," you sighed, poking at the watermelon slices Yeonjun placed in front of you.
It's been more than a week since you were sick. You were now invited over to their place for your tutoring session. It only occurred to you that they're not just friends, they were roommates too.
"You can do it, I know you can, you've been studying a lot," Soobin cheered, stopping for a while from writing in your notebook.
Yeonjun picked up a piece of watermelon barehanded, making it touch your lips. "How about a little gift if you pass the exam, little angel?" he suggested, "Aahh," and asked you to open your mouth at the same time to feed you.
His fingers grazed your lips a little more than expected, and he proceeded to lick his fingers with the left-over juice of the watermelon. "What do you say?" Yeonjun leans forward to you, his hands propped on the table in their living room.
You meekly nodded. No noise, just a simple nod and a lip bite that didn't escape Soobin's and Yeonjun's sight. "W-what gift though?" you asked, trying to straighten your posture.
"Soob, any suggestions?" He peered towards the taller male, only for Soobin to answer with a "Shhh, secret," and a smile.
Yeonjun chuckled, ruffling your hair. "Surprise, little angel, it's a surprise."
You were aware of their subtle advances, actually. Especially how clingy and touchy Yeonjun was. But you were just letting it slide. You don't give it plenty of attention.
But you have already admitted it to yourself. You're swooning over them. They're your good friends, though, and that's why you kept on pushing your lingering feelings back.
The session went well that day too. Not to mention that you're no longer rushing because they already asked you to drop some of your side hustles. You were hesitant at first because how are you going to pay your bills now? But you ended up listening to them and their pouty request. How could you say no? Why would you dare say no, rather?
Thursday came quickly, and taking the biology test first thing in the morning felt like walking on fire and broken glasses barefoot. You could feel the sweat dripping down your forehead and your heart thumping. You even called all the saints, gods, and goddesses you knew to help you answer the test. If looks could kill, flies would be all over your teacher's body.
The following day, your test papers were given back to you. You were too scared to open the folded piece of paper. That's why you kept it like that between the pages of your notebook. You even brought the notebook with you when you went back to your stall to sell your sandwiches.
In the midst of the crowd at lunch, you saw the two tall guys walking towards you once again. As if on cue, they waved at you the moment they met your eyes. You could clearly picture bunny ears and a foxtail over their figures as you chuckled to yourself. "Silly guys," you whispered to yourself.
Soobin was the one who noticed the notebook on the side. He was trying to fan himself with your notebook when your biology test results came flying out from your notebook.
"What's that?" Yeonjun asked as he saw Soobin opening the folded paper.
"Woah! I knew you'd ace the test y/n," he exclaimed, making you snap your head towards them with a confused look.
"Did our surprise gift make you motivated?" Yeonjun taunts, a sly smirk playing on his lips.
"T-that... I..." You were out of words. From what Yeonjun had said and from knowing you actually got a perfect score from your biology class, which you dearly hated from the start.
"It looks like we need to give here our prize, hyung," Soobin smiled. They look at each other knowingly. They know what you deserve. "Shall we head out first?"
Yeonjun and Soobin head home first, ahead of you. They said they wanted to take a stroll at the mall to buy something as your prize, and they just told you to head straight to their place tomorrow afternoon.
You were able to sleep soundly that night. Knowing that you can ace tests only if you focus on your studies. You felt proud of your achievement, given that you don't usually do well in your biology class. You even planned on making the two guys a special-made sandwich to thank them for their work. However, you were actually planning on turning down their request. You couldn't stand choosing between the two of them. You would rather back down than choose.
You were actually expecting something more of a material gift. Maybe a book, a chair, or something you could use inside your small studio. And the gift you were about to receive was the last on your list.
"Fuck princess, why are you so good," Soobin hummed while guiding your head.
"You should be more gentle, Bin. Remember, she still needs to choose who she wants to serve under," Yeonjun chuckled while caressing your dainty finger as he placed your hand on his tenting bulge.
You glanced at your hand on his bulge, and your gaze went up to his eyes. Yeonjun tilted his head, "What is it, pretty angel?"
You swore, and your stomach swirled. Little did they know, whenever they called you these names, you felt a little weaker in your knees.
How did it happen that a visit to their place would end up with you in their bedroom?
You rang the doorbell at their apartment's door, clutching onto the paper bag of the special sandwich with a wide smile on your face. Yeonjun opened the door, rubbing his eyes. He looks like he just woke up from an afternoon nap. Until you realize he's not wearing a shirt. His bare and toned body is displayed in front of you.
"Hi angel, sorry, we were asleep. A friend visited earlier and got us drunk," he apologizes. "Come in."
"Fuck, my head is spinning," he muttered to himself.
"Uhm, should I just come back next week? Do you want to rest for now?" worry and nervousness were visible on your face.
"No, please come in. You don't mind taking care of us too, right?" he smiled, picking up the bottles and cans on the table.
"Where's Soobin?"
"The room over there, do you mind waking him up? I'll just clean this." Some takeout boxes were scattered around the floor, and spilled drinks and sauces were also around.
"Soo-"
"Ahh fuck, y/n... More... You feel so good... Ahh.." You were stunned when you pushed the door open. Soobin was sitting down on the side of his bed, clutching the hem of his t-shirt up to his chest, while he gently stroked his shaft.
"C-come on pretty... I n-need more..." Soobin lolled his head back, letting go of his shirt to use his other arm to support his body as he tightly gripped the bedsheet.
"D-do you need h-help?" You actually don't know why you asked it. You should've just closed the door and pretended that you saw nothing.
Soobin peers over you, "Fuck, didn't know you're already here... Shit sorry, I need you y/n." His lower lip caught between his teeth, sweat forming on his forehead as his fringe sticks.
Like clockwork, you slowly managed to get near him.
"But... But I think you're drunk... I don't think this is right..." you chirped, trying to fight your desires with reality.
"I'm sober. I swear, fuck.. How can I not be when all I can think about was how you," he paused, pressing down on his slit, "Fuck!" He looks up at you once again, "All I can think about was h-how you m-moaned my name when you c-called me that night." He was once again reminded of how you moaned and chanted his name, calling for help, your pants, and heavy breaths when you called the night when your temperature went up.
A pinkish tint washed your face as you thought about how you did your best to call him.
You slowly knelt down between his legs, not breaking eye contact. Your hand slowly wraps around his cock as he draws back his hand.
"You're so p-pretty. I'm sorry I'm m-making you d-do this." You shook your head and flashed him a smile.
"Y-you want this?" Soobin raised your hand to stop you for a while.
"I.. that.. probably..." You weren't able to form any coherent words about how scared you are to admit you have a little crush on them.
"Please. Please tell me you w-want this t-too, If you-"
"I do. I-I do want this. No, I want you, actually... You... And Yeonjun too. Just.."
"Just?"
"It's just that, I can't admit it. You're both good friends of mine. I can't afford to lose our small friendship just because I like the both of you," you bit your lower lip as you retract your hand and place them both on your knees, preparing yourself to receive some hate comments.
"How am I supposed to hold back after knowing you want me? Oh god, you'll be the death of me..."Soobin caressed your cheeks, pulling your face closer to his length.
You look up at him, your eyes full of innocence made him curse all the non-liviing things from hell.
"W-wanna fuck your throat so bad, princess," Soobin muttered, rubbing his shaft on your cheek.
"She's so pretty, I want to ruin her." Your gaze flits toward the voice, it was Yeonjun. He was leaning on the doorframe, watching the two of you exchange a little talk.
"Fucking pretty, hyung. And smart too. She deserves a gift, right?" Yeonjun nodded with a smirk playing on his pretty face.
"She's a good and honest little angel, she deserves a good gift."
Yeonjun marched his way towards the bed. The bed dipped under his weight when he sat beside Soobin.
And this was when you found yourself in that position, between Soobin's legs and reaching for Yeonjun. The sandwich on the paper bag, long forgotten, was splayed on the floor.
You lightly rubbed your hand on Yeonjun's pants, making him hiss under his breath. Your eyes flitted to Soobin, you watched him alternate between biting his lower lip and gaping his mouth.
"I-i'm gonna... y/n, 'm close-- Fuck!" Soobin's hips stutter, stilling for a while inside your mouth. Hot liquid sliding through your tongue.
"C'mere," Soobin quickly pulled you up, crashing his lips on yours.
"Let him taste himself, pretty," Yeonjun taunts.
You lightly open your mouth, letting some of his essence slip through your lips, swallowing the remaining on your tongue. Soobin moaned in your mouth, teeth almost clashing at each other, lips swollen from biting.
Soobin pulled away, his forehead on yours, chasing his breath. "God, it tastes weird," he mumbles.
You felt a hand on your waist, it was Yeonjun's. He was guiding you to sit on his lap.
"Make me cum."
You left a peck at Soobin's lips once more before straddling Yeonjun. Not wanting to be left behind, Soobin tugged at the hem of your shirt. "Can you remove this?" he asked, eyes begging.
You quickly slip out of your shirt. A red hue paints his cheeks as he tries to reach out for the strap of your bra, snapping it open.
Yeonjun then pushed your hips down on him to feel you, making you startled. "Mmhh, feels good, fuck," he sighs. His pouty lips look so delectable as you see him gape his mouth.
Your eyes don't want to leave Soobin, giving him a few glances as he strokes himself languidly while watching you.
"Pretty, never thought you could do something like this, you're not as innocent as you look, yeah?" Yeonjun's eyes were flying towards Soobin, as if asking for some approval, as he continued to guide your hips to grind above him.
"She's dirty, hyung," Soobin chuckles.
"I-i'm not, ahh-" you tried to retaliate, only for Yeonjun to buck his hips up.
"If you're not, then why are your nipples so perky?" Yeonjun smirks, rolling your nipples between his fingers, emitting soft whines from you that made Soobin leak out once again. Of course, he was reminded once more about that night.
"Look at her grinding above you even if when you're not holding her waist, hyung," Only then did you realize that Yeonjun's hands were no longer on you. You're moving on your own accord. No guidance at all.
You felt shy as you stilled your hips, hiding behind Yeonjun's neck. Were you this desperate? Were you this dirty? Just like what they've said?
Yeonjun lifted your skirt, landing a soft spank on your ass, making you yelp at his neck. "Why'd you stop?" He then squeezed your ass as he landed another spank.
Yeonjun raised your body for a bit, only to see how wet his sweats were. It's not from him, of course. You watch the ends of his lips curl up.
"Baby, look at the mess you've made," Yeonjun coos. Soobin reaches for your skirt to unzip it. Your baby pink underwear has now turned dark because of how wet you are.
You bit your lower lip as you look at Soobin, eyes glossy, seeking help, and cheeks beet red. You wanted to cry out of embarrassment.
"Oh, look at my pretty angel, Bin, she's about to cry."
Soobin chuckles, "Don't make her cry, hyung. You're such a menace."
"Continue moving then, save your tears for later," Yeonjun remarked, letting you drop down on his lap once again.
"No, baby, I'm not guiding you. Move on your own," he added as he shook his head when you still didn't move. Oh god, the embarrassment you've been feeling ever since you've stepped inside Soobin's room.
You grab both of his shoulders as you dance above his lap.
"Fuck w-wait, that's --" Yeonjun's hand flew over his mouth to clutch on it, his head lolling back with only a single arm supporting his body.
If there's something Yeonjun considers a weakness, it's when a girl moves in a circular motion on his lap. And you hit the jackpot on your first try.
A few more moves, and he found himself convulsing underneath you. His eyes were blown up when you looked at him. He looked so fucked out. Quickly moving to his side, he also looks down at his lap. You both witnessed how the wetness of his cum stained his sweats. The gray color slowly darkened as the liquid spread out.
You were the one who initiated the kiss this time, giving his pouty lips wet kisses, to which he responded back with a weak hum while he held your face.
Soobin pulled you back over him. "Sorry y/n, can't just stay still and watch you with him." Soobin discarded his shirt on the floor.
"Stop hogging her to yourself, Bin," Yeonjun chuckled at the younger's action and words.
Soobin carefully laid you down on his bed, latching his mouth on your boob, while he gently massaged the other one.
"Move over a bit, baby, need to feel you," Yeonjun lays down on his side beside you, flipping you to turn sideways. Soobin was still sucking on your chest while he moans out his hunger for you.
The pouty guy hugs your waist, littering love bites on your neck. Leaving splotchy red marks all over your nape and shoulder.
You never thought about having an active sexual life, given that you're too busy and focused on making ends meet. Let alone having two guys at the same time.
The tall guy in front of you leaves the same thing around your cleavage while he humps on your thigh. His shaft feels heavy on your skin.
Yeonjun's hand trails down your waist to your clitoral area, rubbing in a circular motion to hear you whimper his name.
"Y-yeonjun," you whimpered under your breath.
"I'm here, focus," your hips jerked when he slowly slid his finger inside your pussy only to pull it out again.
"Bin, wanna stretch her out? I want to feel her already," he grunts. The taller male complied, he scooted up and raised your leg.
"So wet, damn," he dipped his fingers inside you, and just like Yeonjun, he quickly drew it back, giving his fingers a lick to taste you.
"She's sweet, hyung, holy shit. But as much as I want to taste you, I also want to feel you around me, y/n."
The first stretch felt like your body was being torn apart. You quickly lean your head toward Yeonjun, and your hand reaches back. Fingers tangled on his blonde hair as you give it a pull, mouth agape at how big Soobin feels inside.
"So wet 'n tight," Soobin grunts as he keeps on pushing inside you.
"H-hurts! S-soob, it h-hurts!" you cried out as you reached for him, clawing his chest.
"I'm only h-halfway inside, mmpp!" Soobin winces at the pain from your scratches and how your pussy snuggled his thick cock. He holds your face to drown your moans and cries in his mouth as he quickly pushes inside you.
He pulled away as both of you pants as if you had run a hundred miles.
"Y-you're choking me," Soobin moves a little, making you whimper once more.
"B-bin you're t-too big," you pout.
You felt something poking your entrance once, making you peer over to your back. You were met with Yeonjun's fucked-out gaze.
"Need to feel you," Yeonjun shuts his eyes as he pushes slowly.
"W-wait! I can't! Ahh! Hurts!" You thrashed around, making Soobin moan with the pressure.
"S-stay still, y/n!" Soobin hugs you closer to him, "We will all get hurt, stay still, fuck," his abs clenched with how stimulated he was. He signaled Yeonjun to continue pushing in.
Your mouth latches on Soobin's shoulder, biting on his open skin.
"Fuck!" They shouted in unison. Soobin felt the sting of your teeth sinking into his skin, but he tried to endure it. Yeonjun, on the other hand, felt how tight it was inside you.
The two males stilled for a while. Letting you get used to their sizes. Their shafts aren't a joke. Girthy. Long. Thick. Something that would definitely stretch out a tiny pussy like yours.
"'m sorry, angel, sorry..." Yeonjun whispers while he caresses your waist. Soobin planted kisses on the top of your head, your teeth are no longer sunken in his shoulder. But you felt weak between them. Your small and frail body looks like a paper stuck between two big books.
"B-bin, move. S-slowly please," you pleaded as you looked up at him.
His gaze softens as he looks at you. "Why do you have to beg so prettily? I might cum just looking at you," he says, catching his lower lip between his teeth. He then raised your leg once again and started to move slowly. His grunts, your whimpers, and the squelching sound resonate inside his room.
"Angel, who thought that selling a mere sandwich would end up with you being sandwiched between me and Soobin, hm? So fucking good," Yeonjun grunts as he starts to thrust from behind. "You're so tight, baby, fuck."
Soobin tried his very best to stay as quiet as possible, just letting small yet slutty moans, whines, and whimpers. The friction he felt from your wet pussy and Yeonjun's length at the same time was too much for him. He knows he won't last long, but he silently challenged himself not to cum yet.
"You're so greedy, princess. Look at you taking two cocks at the same time. Greedy and dirty."
"My angel is such a whore. A cock slut," Yeonjun snickers, grunting afterwards when he thrusts again.
"Tight virgin pussy."
Their words made you dizzy. Dizzy enough to unconsciously chant their names alternately. Your hands are flying everywhere, clawing and clutching anything within reach as they litter your body with a lot of red marks.
"Please please please wanna cum, please I wanna cum!"
"Oh, you're asking for permission?" Soobin questioned.
"Fuck, are you into begging, pretty?" Yeonjun grunts behind.
"P-please let me cum, I'm gonna-- please!"
You yelped when you end up squirting because of how they simultaneously thrust inside, making you feel stimulated.
"What a dirty girl, for real," Yeonjun sighs, kissing your shoulder.
"Wanna cum inside her, hyung," Soobin was gripping the plush of your thigh as he continuously thrust.
"N-no! Please! I'm not taking a p-pill!"
"Please baby, we'll take care of you, we promise," Yeonjun's hand wrapped around your neck, his thrusts becoming more sloppy.
"Please, wanna fill you. Wanna fill you so bad with my cum," Soobin's nails dug on your skin as he held your thigh tightly.
Yeonjun's grip on your neck made your mind cloudy, and you nodded at whatever they were saying. Not sure about what you were agreeing to.
"H-hold it, Bin, i-i'm close too."
You were a moaning mess. Dizzy, mind hazy, eyes cloudy. Your body was limping as you felt hot liquid spurting inside you, along with guttural moans and deep grunts coming from the two males.
"Sorry," you heard them apologize and slowly pull out before your eyes flutter.
Maybe this gift could be the best thing you ever receive in your entire life.
And a cleanly wrapped small box was sitting on the edge of Soobin's table.
@binniesbooks 2024
taglist: @babymochibeargyu @beomiracles @lizibizi @inkigayocamman @izzyy-stuff (tagging sum of my fave moots and friends 😖💞)
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m00ngirl777 · 5 months ago
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Bad Day
Peter Parker x Reader
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kiss number...1
Peter was having a bad day.
summary: Baby boy drops a glass goes to pick it up and cuts his hand, he was already having a bad day so holding in a couple tears of pain and sheer frustration, babygirl comes running to the rescue, the cuts not so deep, babyboys just tired after patrol, baby girl cleans the cut and heals him with her healing powers. 
A/N: anyways hope you love it, thxx for reading, love u, byeeee. xoxo. -N.
p.s. my requests are open my loves<333
tw: gun mention, my writing lol, wound mention, blood.
wc: 1652
Peter was having a bad day. Your dad had catched him sneaking in to your room one too many times, and ordered him to go to his own place and sleep there. The extra commute from Park avenue all the way to Queen’s, properly wore him out, sum that to the fact that this was probably the first time in weeks he didn’t sleep in your soft king bed, and plush pillows, in the cotton linen blend sheets that didn’t scratch his sensitive skin, as well as the slightly weighted cool cover and velvety blanket you slept with, the room to the perfect temperature, smelling like you, and the background noises you played he used to laugh at you for, and most importantly your warm inviting arms holding him and lulling him into a wonderful sleep, so the next morning when it was time to wake up and his alarm went off, he didn’t wake up, instead he overslept for almost an hour, rushed into the shower and out the place, and had to swing all the way because he remembered he had a quiz he couldn’t miss, a quiz he wonderfully failed, history is not his strong suit.
Wednesday, the day he only shared one class with you, but he couldn’t even catch up because the work partners where assigned and he wasn’t with you. Lunch time came around and of course he forgot his wallet with how in a rush he was, and of course today was the day you had different lunch times and you weren’t there to offer him to buy him lunch, which he usually refuses to anyway, but today he might of have made an exception. Near last period he went to his locker to take out the books he didn’t need to take home, he bent down to take multiple books out of the bag he had left on the floor, as it happens, when he came back up with full force, he hit his head with the edge of the locker door, naturally Flash saw the whole thing and decided to advertise it to the entire hall, making him the subject of everyone's amusement until the bell rung for everyone to scatter to their classes, you saw him from afar but before you could make your way to him he had already slammed the door closed and walked off to his own class. 
Already feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders he decided to clear his head and go for patrol, on his way out of school he found five bucks perfectly crumpled in the pavement, for a moment he thought that finally the day was getting somewhat better, until he went to Delmar’s to get his usual and they added tomato slices to it, he didn’t know if he wanted to sob or gag. He was too hungry and had no choice but to fish them out. He had a long patrol of pretty much nothing, not a crime in sight, the frustration settling in him, once the sun had gone down he decided to give up and fuck did he really want to see you, unconcerned if Mr. Stark found him and threaten to take his suit away if he found Peter sneaking in his daughters room to put his sticky fingers all over her again. His patience was truly starting to be tested when a couple blocks away from finally getting to you there was a some assholes stealing a purse from an older woman, presumably walking home, he couldn’t ignore it even if he wanted to, nothing could’ve prepared him for one of the men to put a gun to the lady’s head threatening to shoot if he didn’t walk away, and as he was thinking his next step to handle this the other guy found a pole and hit him right in the back of the head, knocking him to the ground, the thieves left with the purse, the lady ran away screaming and he had to walk those few blocks with a throb in his head and what felt like a shot wound to his spirit, not feeling like he could swing anymore.
Your day was pretty regular, little lonely with almost no sight of Peter, regardless as the sun set you started to get ready for bed, quick shower, comfy pj’s, and currently working on the quickest dinner possible, putting some organic chicken nuggets and fries in your air fryer, when you heard the elevator ding.
“Is that you dad? Cuz I’m still mad that you kicked Peter out,” You said setting the temperature and timer for the food.
No answer just Peter walking in to the kitchen, slumped, mask in hand, tiered eyes, and a small thigh lip smile.
“Peter, hi,” You walked towards him, no idea what but something definitely was up, you wrapped your arms around him and he immediately melted into you, you swayed him softly in your arms until he felt like pulling away.
“You okay?” You asked cupping his face, he hummed and nodded his face, eyes closed, tiredly nuzzling into one of your palms.
“Are you hungry, baby? Why don’t you have a quick shower and we’ll do a little dinner in bed? Yeah?” You placed a tender kiss on his forehead, he nodded again, mumbled a quiet yeah, and walked himself to your bedroom, hoping this would be the turning point to his horrendous day.
Meanwhile you lined the air fryer with much more food, knowing Peter could build up and appetite, specially after a long day, then cut up some cucumber, and looked for some baby carrots, to at least get a veggie in. You had your plates all lined up, one for nuggets, one for fries, and one for some veggies and dipping sauces, Peter sneaked up behind you, wrapping his arms around your body, squeezing you gently. 
“I’m gonna take these to bed, you think you can pour me a cold glass of something, hot stuff?” You said winking an eye at him and grabbing the plates, finally he let you see a more genuine smile, chuckling at the nickname you gave him, he gave you a nod as you walked away to your room. You set the plates in bed and walked back to the kitchen to get your boy and your little glass of dr pepper. Peter felt lighter being around you, no hesitation to turn around and go to your cupboards to grab you a glass, he grabbed two with one hand and as he turned around they clinked together, slipped, and dropped to the ground, the clatter and shattering sound of glass ringing though the place. 
“Fuck!” Peter hollered out, hands slapping against his face as he groaned into them, exasperatedly defeated. 
“Baby it’s okay, it’s just a glass,” You said, watching the scene play out as you walked into the kitchen. 
“Leave it, I’ll pick it up,” He ignored you and bent down, clearly beyond worked up, face contorted in a frown strange for his features, reaching to pick up the shards. 
“Bab-
“Fuck!” As he was picking up pieces and placing them in his other hand, he grabbed a little too hard and a shard dug right into his palm, making him drop the mess and drip blood all over it, “shitshitshit,” he said grabbing his wrist, feeling the heavy sting, not just in his palm but in his heart. 
That was the final straw, he slumped back into the bottom cabinets of one of the kitchen islands, sobs wracking though him, the sight of him broke your heart, you hurried to his side, careful to not step on the glass, completely confused on how this had made him have such a reaction.
“Hey, baby…Peter,” You were knelt right at his side, and grabbed his hand, holding it carefully to the side and pulling his body into yours, he quietly sobbed into your shoulder, it took him a couple minutes to calm down to quiet sniffles, and eventually to sort of ragged breaths, in the meantime of that you rubbed a hand, up and down, through his back, the other rested his own injured hand on his side and went up to his hair, raking gentle fingers through, shushing him and whispering sweet nothings into his ear.
“Feel better, baby?” You pushed him away, and cupped his face, eyes closed, and a light flush.
“Mhm,” He blinked his teary eyes open.
“What happened?” You asked, lifting his face to look you in the eyes.
“Bad day… horrible honestly,” More than upset, he simply looked tired.  
“Hmm…let me look at that,” Carefully, you lifted his hand, blood had dripped and dried, leaving a nasty sight of crusting darkened blood, “Let me clean it up, yeah?” He nodded softly and followed you to your bathroom, he hissed quietly at the warm water stream that hit his hand. With clean hands, you rubbed delicately around the cut, to soften and rinse off the dried blood around it. You sprayed antiseptic on the cut and on a cotton pad, then weakly wiped the cut. 
“Does it hurt?” You said, lifting his hand to examine the cut. 
“Stings a little,” 
“This is gonna sting a little more, yeah?” He nodded, expecting the familiar touch, slowly you grazed your pointer finger over the cut, and both of you watched as the gash mended, you brought his hand closer and placed a velvety kiss to the middle of his palm, by the time you pulled away, there was no trace left of the cut. You intertwined your fingers with Peter’s and looked back up into his eyes, and leaned in to kiss his lips in the same manner. 
“Better?” You kept your eyes closed and foreheads pressed. He squeezed your hand and chased your lips, he softly licked them and nodded his head. 
“Yeah… yeah,”
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thesoftuglywrites · 4 months ago
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brat (affectionately)
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Here is my submittal for @unintentionalseductress's Valentine's Day Blind Date Event!
Written for the lovely @flaneur001 (I hope you enjoy it and my selection for your blind date)
(This is my first time participating in this kind of event, as well as my first time ever writing for our beloved King of Curses so I hope I did the event and the character justice lol)
Disclaimer: No content warnings that I can truly think of to label them here. Fem!Reader/Modern!Sukuna/human!Sukuna/no curses au/Sukuna being a massive tsundere, is emotionally constipated and doesn't know how to show affection for the people that he loves and cares about... but he tries/he's got the tattoos, but not the facial ones.
WC: 8.6 K
Enjoy!
“I can’t believe that you talked me into this,” you grumbled, pulling your winter coat closer to your body as you closely followed behind Shoko, batting away a puff of cigarette smoke that she had exhaled out and that you had accidentally walked into. “I don’t need to go on a blind date right now, I should be studying for final exams.”
The cold winter air bit at your exposed skin the longer you followed Shoko to the supposed meetup spot that she had preselected for you and your blind date. Why she decided to do this for you, nay, to you, was something that was way beyond your comprehension at the current moment. When she initially had told you that you were going to be going on a blind date tonight, you had laughed in her face, thinking that she was joking; you were sorely mistaken when she didn’t laugh and instead grabbed your jacket and your wallet and threw them at you, clearly indicating to you that she wasn’t joking and was, in fact, serious about this. 
Shoko let out a snort, and shot you a look over her shoulder with a lit cigarette clamped  in between her teeth as the two of you trekked through the labyrinth that were the back alleyways of metropolitan Tokyo. She plucked the cigarette out of her mouth, and swung her body around to face you, but continued to walk backwards so she wouldn’t break her pace. “Girl, the first time I met you, you had your nose in a book and were a month ahead on assignments that your professors had already put out. If anything, you already have the material written on the inside of your eyelids and inscribed into the sulci of your brain. You’ll be fine taking one night off. Besides, you need this.” She twirled back around, facing forward once again. 
You were a third year university student who had been lucky enough to spend your autumn and spring semesters in Japan at the University of Tokyo as an exchange student. You had done everything in your power to prepare yourself for your travels by studying up on the language, both the verbal and written aspects, the culture, etiquette, the inner workings of the university that you would be attending, and among various other things that were at your disposal before you would embark on your travels.
Shoko Ieiri was your dorm mate. She was the first person that you actually, truly got to meet, and really the first person that took you under her wing. The two of you did your best to communicate, given the fact that neither you nor Shoko really was fluent in each other’s languages. With time, however, you eventually found even footing when it came to communication between the two of you. Shoko was the one who had taken you around the city, introducing you to many eateries, bakeries, and cafes that she would visit, along with miniscule spots that she would spend what little precious free time that she had.
She had also been the one to introduce you to her circle of friends, as she had quickly noticed that you had a tendency to stay in your shared dorm. You didn’t join any clubs, you didn’t go to any campus parties or mixers, citing the main reason being that you simply wanted to focus on your studies so you wouldn’t flunk out of the classes in a university that you had fought tooth and nail to get assigned to. To be fair, it wasn’t a total lie.
While you were apprehensive at first, mainly having anxiety about meeting a group of people that you had no idea existed while they already seemed to have a great deal of information about you, you agreed to meet them nonetheless, over dinner and drinks. Those worries were immediately quashed the second that Satoru Gojo threw his arm around your shoulder and pulled you close into his side, as if you were lifelong friends instead of strangers that had just met seconds prior. Suguru Geto, who side-eyed Satoru with how touchy he was being with you, kept the exchange flowing by asking you questions about you, your life, your country, if you were taking a liking to Japan, etc. Kento Nanami, quietly listened to what you had to say, and continuously poured your sake for you throughout the event, granted he was a few years older than you and he constantly shot down your efforts to try and pour his drink for him; even though he didn’t take much of an active participation in the conversations that were happening around you two, the silence between you two wasn’t uncomfortable–it was even welcomed. 
The only person that you truly had an issue with connecting with, was Sukuna Ryomen. 
He didn’t say much of anything to you with the exception of a curt nod in your direction when you first made introductions to each other. He sat at the end of the table, slamming beer after beer after beer, but never once did he partake in the group dialogue. He sat quietly, watching everything unfold around him. 
There were two things that you remembered from that whole meetup. The first being the fact that his eyes never left you. If you weren’t distracted by something or someone else, you became acutely aware of it–so much so, that it almost made you extremely self conscious; the way that he was staring at you made it seem like he was analyzing every move. The second thing, was when you had gone to pay for your dinner and drinks, the server that had been attending to your table had told you that your tab had already been taken care of; when you asked who it had been for further clarification, they responded: “The gentlemen with the pink hair requested that anything you ordered be applied to his bill, ma’am.” 
You couldn’t even thank him or pay him back for it because he had taken off much earlier before everyone else was finished with their food and drinks. When you next saw him again after that, you tried to bring up the topic of paying him back, and he immediately wouldn’t hear the rest of what you had to say. 
“I wanted to pay for your meal,” he said to you. “You don’t need to worry about paying me back.”
Since then, you two really haven’t interacted. He hadn’t made any effort to get to know you better or talk to you one on one whenever there was a group hangout, simply choosing to ignore your existence and engage with the others; and you were perfectly content with that. 
Fast forward to the present moment, you and Shoko rounded the corner around a little dumpling and takoyaki stand that was operated by an elderly couple, bringing you two back out to the main street, and you could make out four figures standing near a streetlight in the distance. The closer the two of you got, you could make them out to be Satoru, Suguru, Kento, and Sukuna.
“This is fuckin’ ridiculous,” you heard Sukuna growl the closer you got to them. “This is a complete waste of time and I don’t need to be doing this!”
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic, Kuna-Tuna!” Satoru chided, pushing his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose. “You’ll have a great time with your date.”
“Okay, how many times have I told you to stop calling me that?” Sukuna straightened up, almost nearly squaring up with white-haired, blue-eyed man that was clearly past the point of annoying him.
Satoru being… well, Satoru, didn’t pay any mind to the hot headed man that was growing increasingly agitated in front of him, and kept up with his nonchalant, playful attitude. “Oh… since the second year of secondary school? Frankly, I don’t know why you keep trying to get me to stop calling you that when it’s pretty clear I’m not going to,” Satoru chortled.
“Hey, lover boy,” Suguru cut in, before Sukuna could respond–or rip Satoru’s head off, either one could work–and flicked his chin towards the direction that you and Shoko were approaching from. “I would think real carefully about your next move. You wouldn’t wanna scare off you dare, now, would ya?” 
Wait.
Wait.
Wait, wait, wait, wait, what?
Sukuna was your date?
Where there was once annoyance and irritation, it was quickly replaced with anxiety and apprehension; you could feel your heartbeat quicken, your mouth went dry, and your palms go clammy the closer and closer you got to the others. It wasn’t like you were afraid of him… but you certainly weren’t close with him to begin with; he was just intimidating. He towered over you, easily standing at six feet and five inches and was built like an ox. He swore like a sailor that had just gotten back into port, and did everything in his power to make himself appear larger than he actually was and take up as much space as he possibly could. Sukuna acted without a care in the world, and he certainly cared less what others thought of him.
For lack of a better word, Sukuna Ryomen was loud, and crude, and brash; everything and everyone around him could either tolerate him for who he was and what he stood for, or they could fuck right on off. In a way, you did have some sort of respect for him, though. To be your own individualistic person in a conservative, collectivist society like Japan certainly couldn’t have been easy. 
“Ah, there you two are!” Satoru called out, greeting both you and Shoko as you approached them. “We were wondering how long it was gonna take you guys to get here.”
You kept your gaze downward as you could feel the heat flush your cheeks, feeling more self conscious than ever before, rivaling the time that you were about to meet your current friend group. From your peripheral vision, you could see Sukuna maintain his gaze on you. 
“Hope you guys weren’t waiting too long.” Shoko plucked the cigarette from in between her teeth, exhaling out another puff of smoke that you accidentally walked into again, causing you to unintentionally breathe in the toxins. You were too anxious to really pay attention to it, too lost in thought as you dreaded the next several hours that were to come.
“No, thankfully not,” Kento responded, reaching up to push his hair back into the neat side part that he always sported. “We would have been here a bit sooner had someone–” Kento threw a menacing glare in Sukuna’s direction, causing Sukuna to scowl back in return – “not put up such a big fight to get him here in the first place.”
Shoko paused, the cogs in her head slowly turning as she realized that Kento, Satoru, and Suguru all had disheveled appearances the more that she inspected them. “Did… did it take the three of you guys to get him here?”
“Yep,” they all simultaneously answered all at once.
“We nearly had to pick him up and carry him to get him here,” Suguru grumbled under his breath as he reached up to rub at the back of his head, his fingers threading through his hair. “Nearly pulled a chunk of my hair out, too…”
Oh. Great, you thought to yourself. 
He clearly didn’t want to be here, just as much as you didn’t want to be here, either. 
You turned to Shoko, keeping your voice low. “Shoko, are you sure this is a good idea? I mean… does it just have to be the two of us?” 
Shoko detected the hesitancy in your voice and pulled you off to the side, a bit further away from the rest of the guys so that you could speak a bit more inconspicuously. “Are you nervous?” she whispered, her eyebrows furrowing as her eyes looked at you with concern.
“A bit. I just, I don’t know, I don’t know Sukuna very well and I don’t think he likes me all that much…” Your voice trailed off as you voiced your worries. 
Shoko fought off a snort. “You don’t know the half of it when it comes to Sukuna, Y/N. You really don’t.”
“Shoko,” you quietly moaned, borderlining on a whine. 
“Listen, if you’re really all that nervous, we honestly don’t have to go through with this. Satoru, Suguru, and I thought it would be good for the two of you to hang out with each other one on one,” she explained. “Plus, Sukuna likes you a little bit more than he lets on. I promise that he does. He’s just… not very good at showing it.”
You let out a dismayed sigh, not wanting the actions of the other boys to go in vain, seeing as how it took some effort on their part to get Sukuna here tonight. “No, I’ll do it. Just–just keep your phone on standby in case things start to go south.”
“Of course.”
Satoru was the first to break the tension. “Welp!” He clapped his hands together once to get everyone’s attention on him. “Sukuna, we leave our beloved Y/N in your care. Take her to a night out on the town, get dinner, drinks, maybe visit that new arcade that just opened up in downtown Harajuku?” he said, slowly backing up as Shoko, Suguru, and Kento followed suit, leaving you and Sukuna by yourselves. “Have fun, you two!” 
They rounded a corner, officially leaving you and Sukuna together.
By yourselves.
Alone.
Sukuna turned to you, his eyes looking you up and down as he took in your appearance. “You look nice,” he complimented, unsure of how to start the conversation between you two. He could, however, sense your unease. “Better than I do, actually.” 
Though he wasn’t in earshot of the conversation that happened between you and Shoko, he had a pretty good idea of what it was about.
“Thank you,” you softly chuckled. You kept your gaze down, looking at his feet rather than his face. “Though, I wish I wasn’t wearing my glasses.”
His head cocked to the side slightly, genuine confusion coloring his features. “What? Why?” 
“I just prefer to wear my contacts, really. I haven’t been to visit the optometrist here and I’ve run out of my yearly supply, unfortunately. I’ll probably have to do that over winter break once exams are over.” 
Sukuna let out a low hum, digesting your words. 
You raised your eyes to meet his, looking at him quizzically. “What is it?” 
“Well, firstly: thank you for finally looking at me.” He chuckled, a soft smile forming on his face. A rarity if you ever saw. “And secondly: I think I prefer you with glasses. You look rather cute, if I do say so myself.” 
A flash of heat burned your cheeks at his comment, before you tried to save yourself a night of needless agony. “You know, Sukuna, you really don’t have to humor me if you don’t want to be here,” you said, not beating around the bush anymore. “We can just go our separate ways and if the others ask about it, we can-”
“Who says that I don’t want to be here?” he interrupted, his eyebrow raised. 
You deadpanned. “Gee, I don’t know, maybe the fact that it took three grown men to get you here in the first place, and also taking into consideration that you put up such a fight, too.”
He threw his head back as a loud, boisterous laugh rang from his diaphragm. “That was before I knew that it was you, brat.” 
“Brat? Seriously?” 
He chuckled, and walked past you, waving a hand over to indicate that he wanted you to follow him. “Affectionately, of course. Now, c’mon. There’s a new ramen spot that just opened up not too far from where we are now and I’ve been dying to try it out.”
You looked as he started to stalk off in the direction where the ramen bar is, watching his back retreat the further and further that he gets away from you. Against your better judgment, and the annoyance that was starting to swirl in your chest at the mention of being called a ‘brat’, you follow him. 
The train to downtown Tokyo is packed full with the evening rush of salarymen and women that are just getting off of work, to the point where it felt like it was a tin of sardines rather than a train car. Sukuna, using the full scale of his body and height to his advantage, blocked you into a section of the car where your back was up against the side of the car, but maintained his distance in order to prevent others from encroaching on your personal space. This was the most up close and personal that you’ve ever been with him, and with careful eyes, you observed all of the details that your date had to offer you. From the hem of his shirt, you could somewhat make out the darkened lines of black ink that resembled tattoos that just barely peaked out, where it wasn’t obscured by his jacket. He had a bit of peach fuzz on his chin, indicating that he maybe had just shaved. His hair, though slightly spiky, was smoothed back into a neat fashion, in some sort of measure–maybe that was Suguru or Satoru’s doing, who knows. Your eyes fell to his ears, noting that he had small black gauges in his earlobes. Were they new or had you just never noticed them before?
“What is it?”
His question brings you out of your train of thought and you realized that his eyes were on your face, looking at you with a curious expression.
“I’m sorry–what?” Your words tumbled out as they left your mouth.
“You’re staring at me. What is it, brat?”
You glanced away, not paying attention to the fact that he called you a brat again. “I–it’s nothing. I swear.” 
His eyebrow cocked at that, not believing what you were saying for a single second. He leaned down to meet your eye level, putting his face closer to yours than what you deemed necessary. “Are you sure about that?”
You could feel the heat flush your cheeks again as you backed further into the plastic and metal side of the train car, trying to create distance. “Y-yes, I’m sure!” 
He smirked at how flustered you were becoming, before silently shrugging his shoulders and closing his eyes, a silent way of saying: “Alright, then.” He straightened back up to his full height, but the smirk on his face remained.
When the train finally reached the desired stop, Sukuna had placed you in front of him, enclosing his jacket around you so that you were quite literally tucked against his chest. Once again, he used his height and size to his advantage, and began to walk the both of you forward through the crowd of passengers. Once out of the train car, he let you out of his jacket and continued to lead the way, but maintained a close enough proximity to you where your hands were nearly touching.
It was a ten minute walk from the train station to the ramen bar that Sukuna was so highly eager about. In the near distance, you could see the red paper lanterns decorate the outside with fairy lights strewn across the top of the entrance, and kanji characters that you most certainly weren’t going to be able to decipher. The hostess greeted you two with a bow and immediately sat both you and Sukuna in a booth that was public enough to put you close to the kitchens where you could see the chefs cook and create the meals that other patrons ordered, but private enough to where you could have your own conversations without the fear of others eavesdropping in on them, and the lighting dim enough to where no one else could truly see you unless they were actually stood at the edge of your table.
“So? What do you think?” Sukuna asked, the smug smirk having really never left his face since the departure from the train car.
“Of the restaurant? It’s nice. It seems fancy, all things considered,” you murmured, as you took out your phone to scan the QR code that pulled up the menu, only to be sorely disappointed to see that there were no English translations available for the food descriptions, and that it was all in katakana. “God dammit,” you muttered under your breath. 
Sukuna noticed your distress. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m not very good at reading the Japanese alphabet,” you muttered. “And there’s no English translations available on this menu for me to figure out what I want.” 
“Let me help you out, then.” He waved an open palm towards you so he could look at the menu with you. 
You turned your phone to Sukuna, sharing the screen between you and him. His eyes scan the options that are listed. “What kind of ramen do you like? Are you a miso girl? Seafood girl? Cold noodle broth? Or do you like spicy ramen?” His eyes glanced at you as he listed your options. 
“Um… spicy ramen is fine.” 
“You want spicy ramen? You tryin’ to be adventurous today?” 
“What do you mean? I like spicy food,” you protested.
“You like spicy food, but you can’t tolerate it. And besides, this is the kind of ramen spot  where when they say a particular dish is spicy, they actually mean it.”
You sat up a bit higher in your seat, slightly offended by his observation. “How do you know what I can and can’t tolerate?”
Sukuna snorted. “Did you forget that I was there when Satoru dared you to eat the hottest spice level at that Korean fried chicken place we all went to once? You were practically dying while Kento, Shoko, and I practically had to raid that convenience store that was next door to get you milk products and ice cream to help alleviate your pain.”
“Maybe I’m trying to expand my palate and build up on my spice tolerance,” you rebuked, your eyes glancing off to the side as subtle embarrassment made its way to the forefront of your mind as you reminisced on that moment.
He leaned forward, his brown eyes intensely focused on your face. Even if you weren’t directly looking at him, you most certainly could feel it. “You really want to take this night as an opportunity to do that?”
“... I’ll have miso ramen…” 
“Good girl.” 
At the mention of being called ‘good girl’, the heat returned to your cheeks tenfold and the flusterment hit you like a freight train all over again. 
The server approached your table to get your orders input into the kitchen. Sukuna ordered for both you and him, speaking in a fast paced dialect that you couldn’t keep up with. You could make out some words, but the rest of it all jumbled together. The server bowed, and swiftly turned away and returned to the back of the kitchen. 
“I got you water to drink, if that’s alright with you?” he asked, as he leaned back into his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. 
“That’s fine.”
A small silence settled between the two of you before you decided to bite the bullet and start asking your date some questions. 
You started off small. “You have tattoos… right?” 
Another smirk formed and he nodded his head once. “I do, in fact, yes.” 
“May I ask what they are?”
He reached down and pulled up the sleeves of his jacket to reveal two black rings around both of his wrists. “You may or may not have seen these before. I know that I typically wear long sleeves around you whenever we’re out and about doing something with the rest of the group,” he mused. “Can’t fuckin’ stand the shit that this hellscape society thinks that I’m goddamn yakuza just because I have tattoos.” He pulled his sleeves down again and then reached up to pull at the collar of his shirt to reveal two thickened lines that were bilaterally placed on both sides of his shoulders. “And then these two lines start at my pectorals and then go all the way up past my shoulders and down my back.” He released his shirt and let his hands rest on the table, mere inches from yours. “I’ve got more I could show you, but then I would have to undress myself in order to do that,” he chuckled. 
A giggle escaped you. “Do they have any significant meaning or are they just because they look cool?”
He shook his head. “In a way, yeah. I mean, they are supposed to represent the brandings that criminals would receive in pre-Edo Japan, but I like how simplistic they are.”
Your head slightly cocked to the side. “Why did you want to get the brandings of pre-Edo criminals on your body?”
“Why wouldn’t I want to get the brandings of pre-Edo criminals on my body?” He shrugged his shoulders and crossed his arms again. A thoughtful look crossed his face as he decided to change the subject of conversation. “Will you be around during the summer season?”
“I’m not entirely too sure,” you answered, folding your hands together on the table, resting them there. “I’d have to see what my visa would allow for me considering that the school semester would be over and that’s really the only reason why I’m allowed in this country to begin with. Why?”
“The group and I like to visit private onsens up in the mountains during the summer season. Can’t really do the public ones because of the tattoos, ya know? It’s also matsuri season, too. I figured that you might wanna stick around for that and experience it, too.”
A smile formed on your face as you thought of the future prospect of experiencing a summer festival with the group of people that had so graciously accepted you into their circle. “I’d like that.” 
“I figured that you would. I remember you talking to Shoko and Suguru about how you always wanted to attend both the Gion and Sanno matsuri festivals.”
You squint your eyes at him, surprised. “Wait, how did you know that? I said that ages ago…”
“Call it a photographic memory, brat.” 
“Oh, yeah?” A wisenheimer grin formed, as you sized him up, ready to have him put his money where his mouth was. “What else have I said, done, or did that you can remember, you wannabe Savant?”
“Oh, where does one begin with you?” Sukuna sighed, rubbing his chin as he looked up to the ceiling as he racked his brain to carefully answer your question. “Well, for starters: you just told me that you prefer to wear your contact lenses over your glasses–which, to be frank with you, I find to be incredibly ridiculous as I think you’re very cute either way. I also remember you saying that you prefer to dress a bit on the formal masculine side when you go out–very chic, by the way–but really you would rather stay inside and indoors than go out and wear comfortable clothing. Baggy t-shirts and sweatpants, I’m assuming? What else…? Oh! I also remember you saying that you like to sing, but you wouldn’t do it when we all went to karaoke–which, I’m going to assume is because you either don’t feel comfortable singing in Japanese or because you have stage fright and don’t like singing and putting a performance in front of others, either or are plausible–but I have heard you hum before. You hummed the melody to Howl’s Moving Castle, which makes sense considering the fact that you’ve said that you’re a fan of Studio Ghibli films; your favorites being Howl’s Moving Castle and The Wind Rises. I’ve also noticed that you don’t like grand, extravagant gestures–basically anything that Satoru does for you–but you do have a soft spot for much smaller, and intimate ones; ones that are well thought-out and take careful consideration for you and what you want.” His eyes drifted down from the ceiling to meet yours once again. “...How am I doing so far?” 
The grin slowly but surely faded from your face the more and more that Sukuna went on with his answer and it became abundantly clear to you what Shoko was talking about earlier, saying that Sukuna liked you a bit more than he initially let on. He paid attention to you, from the most macroscopic level to the most microscopic detail that you have offered him, whether it be intentionally or unintentionally. This man quite literally just read you like you were an open book, from the first page to the last. What had him so intrigued about you, you had no idea. 
You were stunned.
His smirk deepened the more he looked at you and the more that your silence filled the table. “What? No witty remarks? Cat got your tongue?” 
“No–I mean, yes, I just…”
“At a loss for words at how much I’ve noticed?”
You dry swallowed. “Yeah… I guess that’s it.” 
Your server approached the table, setting the drinks and bowls of ramen in front of you. They promptly bowed, telling both you and Sukuna to enjoy the meal that the chefs prepared for you. Sukuna reached into the circular tin at the edge of the table that stored the chopsticks, grabbing two packages. He ripped the packaging off of yours and effortlessly broke the sticks apart, before handing them over to you. 
You positioned the sticks in your hand, ready to dig in just before you heard a chiding: “Ah, ah, ah.” You glanced up to see Sukuna looking at you with a disapproving look on his face, his palms pressed together at the front of his chest.
“Oh, right. My mistake.” You set your chopsticks down to the side of the bowl and mimicked his position, pressing your hands together at the center of your chest. 
“Itadakimasu!” you both chanted, your voices blending together as you bowed both of your heads together simultaneously. 
“Ladies first.” Sukuna gestured to your bowl, giving you to go ahead to start eating before him, even though you were fairly certain that he was older than you. You didn’t question it.
“What did you order, if you don’t mind me asking?” 
“Sapporo ramen. Felt like it would do me some good on this winter night,” he replied, before swigging down several gulps of the tall pitcher of beer that he ordered as his drink. “Go ahead and eat. Let me know how the miso dish is, yeah?” 
You nodded, using your chopsticks to break the dish and stir the contents around your bowl.
Uncertainty began to churn in Sukuna’s abdomen as he looked at you, noticing that you weren’t really looking at him… or talking to him; like all of the other interactions that you’ve had with him prior. He hated feeling like this–like he needed to be walking on eggshells around you. “I haven’t… made you uncomfortable, have I?”
The question caught you off guard, making you look up at him from your bowl to see his eyebrows furrowed as he gazed upon you with a somewhat concerned expression. “N-no. I promise you haven’t.”
He let out another low hum, his chopsticks twirling around in his fingers like it was a skilled craft that he had learned at the dinner table as a young child and had perfected the motions throughout his years. “Can I ask you a question, then?”
You mutely nodded; the aroma of the ramen bowl reached your nose, nearly causing your mouth to salivate.
“Did you not like me when we first met?” he asked, officially throwing all caution to the wind, fighting through the embarrassment and self-consciousness that began to plague him. “You never really chose to interact with me unless you absolutely had to, always choosing to go with either Shoko, Satoru, Suguru, or Kento.” God, he felt like such a little kid asking this question. He could feel his cheeks heat up, his face beginning to flush red, but he was choosing to attribute that to the alcohol that he had consumed, rather than his own emotional state of being. 
If it was with anyone–legitimately, anyone–else, he wouldn’t have cared if they liked him or not; why were you suddenly the exception to his own ego and self esteem?
“I feel like I should be asking you that.” 
Now it was his turn to be caught off guard. “What?” 
“You kind of did the same thing, too…” you sheepishly replied. “You never really interacted with me, either. Plus, I found you to be quite…” You hesitated to say the next word, afraid that you might insult him.
“Found me to be quite… what?” Sukuna prompted; he honestly wanted to know what you were thinking.
“Okay, don’t be mad at me when I tell you this, but I always found you to be…” if there was ever a time to be honest, now was the time to do it, “...unnerving.” 
“Oh.”
You hated his one word answer; he seemed dejected at the most minute level that you were able to detect and you absolutely despised the possibility that you might be the cause of it. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to upset you.” 
“No, I’m not upset–I just don’t know why I expected anything different, to be honest.” 
You internally cringed at his answer, knowing that, in some way, shape, or form, he was indirectly calling you out for your behavior towards him; you realized that you hadn’t been very fair to him, much like had anything or anyone else was in his life. It unsettled you to know that, in a way, you somewhat contributed to judgment, much like the rest of Japanese society had done to him. 
You knew better than that. 
“I’m really not upset. Honest. Please don’t think that I am,” Sukuna uttered, noticing your internal monologue play out on your face. He set down his chopsticks on the hashioki that was beside his bowl and grabbed your hand, trying to convey his sincerity to you. You looked down and saw that his hand completely enveloped yours, his lightened skin tone contrasting yours. “Listen, I know that I don’t exactly give people a warm, fuzzy appearance when they first meet me. Plus, the reason that the others continue to hang around me is because we’ve known eachother since early childhood–they’ve known me and have dealt with my bullshit for the longest time; I should have known better when it came to meeting you, and I’m sorry that I didn’t make much more of an effort.” He gingerly squeezed your hand, his thumb slowly swiping along the ridges of your knuckles. 
“Maybe we’re just both failures at being sociable,” you dryly chuckled, trying to add some humor to the somber moment. 
Sukuna snorted. “Maybe we are.” 
The entire dinner was dealt with in a comfortable silence that settled between the two of you as you both ate your meals together. The discomfort and anxiousness that you initially felt at the start of your outing was long gone, finding yourself to be a bit more at ease with your dinner companion. It also helped that the meals that you both ordered were absolutely delicious, the broth from your ramen filling you with a warmth that you knew was going to last you throughout the night. When it came time to pay for your meals, you attempted to reach for your wallet, but Sukuna was much quicker with the money than you were, giving you that same disapproving look that he gave you at the start of your meal.
As soon as you both stepped outside of the restaurant, the winter air assaulted you once again, making a shiver rip through your entire trunk, rattling you to your core. 
Sukuna immediately noticed this. “Are you cold?”
“A bit,” you answered, wrapping your arms around yourself in order to preserve what little warmth your body could conserve. 
Without hesitation, Sukuna shrugged off his coat, placing it around your shoulders, making you do a double take at him. “Won’t you be cold?” you asked, concerned. 
“I’ll be fine, don’t worry,” he cooly responded, trying to fight off a laugh that bubbled in his abdomen at how you were practically drowning in his coat. “You drink enough alcohol and eventually it’ll keep you warm. Plus,” he grabbed the collar of his coat, pulling it tighter around you so that it hugged your body a bit more snugly, “if I do get sick, you can always take care of me and nurse me back to peak physical health.” 
You barked out a laugh. “I think you’ll be sorely disappointed at how badly I play nurse.” 
“Please. I’m sure you’re a lot better than you think you are,” he said, wrapping an arm around you, tugging your body into his side, his hand rubbing up and down your arm to try and create friction based warmth for you. “Besides, you can’t be any worse than Satoru is. I got food poisoning once from 7-Eleven sushi that must have gone bad on the shelf, and I asked him to get me some clear broth, something that would be easy for me to digest after being violently sick for god knows how long–the man decided to get me a full scale meal from McDonald’s instead. He’s like a child that has the shortest attention span, I swear.” 
Sukuna began walking you forward, you assumed back to the train station so that he could take you back to your dorm where you knew Shoko would be waiting for you. You passed an alleyway where you could see an entryway to a little night market had been set up when it previously hadn’t been before. 
“Hey, do you wanna see what that’s all about?” you ventured, craning your head to look up at him. You weren’t entirely too sure if you wanted your date to be done and over with just quite yet. 
“Sure, why not.”
He turned the both of you down that alleyway, where you passed a bunch of stalls and minishops that were selling various goods and services in preparation for the upcoming holiday season. You maneuvered your way out of his grip, feeling unbearably hot as Sukuna’s body heat began to seep through both yours and his coats. “I think I’m warm enough now,” you murmured, putting a bit of distance between you two, but still stuck close to him. 
You both approached a little art section where people were paired off, one person sat in a posed position while the other faced them in the other direction and attempted to draw them. 
“Come on. I wanna draw you,” Sukuna declared, pulling you towards the festivities. 
“Like one of your French girls?” 
“Ha.” He robotically laughed, finding the reference in poor taste. “Ha. Ha. Ha.” 
He grabbed your hand and led you to an open seat at the very far end, where there another seat had a selection of paper on an easel and a variety of pencils and markers available. 
“Since when do you draw?” you asked, taking the seat opposite of where Sukuna was sitting. 
“Brat, I’ve been drawing. You just never really bothered to ask in the first place,” he retorted, shooting you a playful smile. “I just recently took an apprenticeship at a tattoo shop that’s not too far from the university campus and I’ve been needing to work on my portrait skills, anyways. Now–” he grabbed the easel, placing it in front of him and selected the desired lead grades for the pencils that he wanted to use after careful consideration, “–turn your chest slightly to the side, but still keep your eyes on me.”
You followed his instructions, and held the position to the best of your ability, watching as Sukuna got to work. You don’t know how long you sat there for, but you observed Sukuna in his element, staring him down as he continuously glanced to you and away from you; though you couldn’t see what he was illustrating, you could see his hand that expertly gripped the pencil in between his fingers, fly across the paper. The cold, winter air continued to bite at your exposed skin, making your body want to shiver in retaliation to the elements, but you did your best to remain as still as possible, wanting to be a good muse for your artist. 
“Have you always wanted to be a tattoo artist?” you wondered, holding steadfast to your stationary position.
He silently nodded, but his gaze was still focused upon his canvas; his eyes were strict with the attention to detail that he was placing upon the paper in front of him. “Wasn’t good enough for university, but I was always pretty good at crafting art and drawing random shit when I was a kid growing up. Figured I could make a career out of it.”
“What would you want to specialize in?” 
He glanced up to you, shading in several more patches in between the lines. “Black and gray realism.”
“Yeah? Why is that?”
“You know, for someone that’s supposed to be a statue right now, you certainly are asking a lot of questions,” Sukuna teased, as he fought off a smile from forming on his face. “But, to answer your question, I like the attention to detail that that style requires. Now, no more questions, or talking in general–I’m almost done.” 
Five minutes later. “Aaaannnnd, done!” he announced, carefully taking the paper off the easel as he set the pencils off to the side. 
“Let me see it!” you said excitedly, jumping off the chair, eagerly making your way over to him so you could see what he drew for you.
“Nope,” he responded, his lips popping on the ‘P’. He held the paper above your head and carefully folded the paper so that he could tuck it away in the back pocket of the jeans that he was wearing. “I’ll give it to you when you get back to your dorm.”
“What? I just sat here for like twenty five, thirty minutes and you’re not even gonna let me see the final product? Rude.”
He chuckled once again, “I’m not saying ‘no’, brat. I’m simply saying ‘not right now’.”
“You’re still calling me that? How would you like it if I called you Kuna-Tuna?”
He reached up and ruffled the top of your hair, threading his fingers into the strands of your dark, brown hair. “Affectionately, of course. Plus, there’s a stark difference with that nickname coming from you versus Satoru and Suguru.” He sighed, ascertaining how late it was and that he needed to get you back to your dorm before the subways would shut down for the night. “I need to get you back to your dorm. It’s already late and I don’t want to pay the inflated rates for a taxi.”
“Oh. Right.” That one simple sentence brought you back down to reality, and you could feel a slight sadness begin to take hold in your chest. You didn’t want this night to end; you actually ended up having a lot more fun than you initially thought that you would, and your relationship with Sukuna was no longer on the rocks. You could actually see yourself becoming a lot closer with him if things continued to progress the way that they were after this. 
“Hey, don’t look so down,” Sukuna spoke softly to you, his voice taking on a tender edge that you’ve never heard from him before. “After exams, you’ve got winter break, yeah? We’ve got plenty of time before that, and then some after. I figured I could take you to the Ghibli museum, if you’re not going back home, that is.” He looked unsure as he said that, hoping that you would prove him wrong and still be in Japan over the break. 
“Like… as another date? Just the two of us?” you questioned, your eyebrow raising slightly.
“If… if you’ll have me, that is.”
You enjoyed seeing him flustered. It was a nice change of pace to the arrogant, smug facade that he always bared to the rest of society. You reached up and playfully, but gently punched him in his left pectoral muscle with a closed fist. “I’ll always have you, Kuna-Tuna.”
You shrugged off his jacket, handing it back to him before you two made the journey back to the train station. Just as you got back to the main street, you were about to walk on the outside, closest to the edge of traffic before Sukuna tugged on your coat sleeve, making you trade places with him so that he would be on the edge of the sidewalk, rather than yourself. When you got to the station, waiting for the car that would take you back to campus, a group of drunk, rowdy salarymen got too close for comfort for both you and Sukuna. Being the guard dog that Sukuna was, he pulled you tighter into his side and shot the men several glares that would have decimated them if looks could kill–strongly implying to them that they should keep their distance if they knew any better. Thankfully, even through their inebriated stupor, they took the hint and ventured to the far side of the station, keeping their distance from both you and Sukuna.
Once on the train, it was just you and several other passengers that were evenly spaced out in the car; a complete contrast to when you first rode the train to the ramen restaurant. You both sat in silence, just enjoying each other’s company for the current time being. From your peripheral vision, you continued to observe him some more. His head was leaned back up against the car window, his eyes were closed–to some, it would indicate that he was asleep, but you knew that he was just resting his eyes. His Adam's apple was prominent from the way that his head extended backwards, and–
“You’re staring at me again, brat.”
“Your eyes aren’t even open, how the hell can you tell?!” you demanded.
“Call it a sixth sense. I’ve gotten really good at detecting when people stare at me.” Sukuna cracked an eye open, looking at you from the corner of it as a half hearted smile began to form. 
“Oh, of course you have,” you muttered, turning to your head to face forward so you were no longer looking at him anymore.
He let out another boisterous laugh at your remark, leaning forward as he did. The other passengers glared at him, finding it rather annoying that Sukuna was disturbing their peace. He could have cared less in that moment, paying them no mind. 
It wasn’t long before the two of you were standing in front of your dormitory building. You took several steps up the staircase that led to the front entrance, before you turned to face him, now standing eye level with him. You placed out an expectant hand, your palm facing upwards. “May I have my drawing now, please?” 
Sukuna reached into his back pocket, placing the folded piece of paper in your hand. “Here you are, like I promised,” he said. He raised his eyes to meet yours. “You know, for what it’s worth, I’m glad that Satoru, Suguru, and Kento dragged me out to meet you tonight.”
You giggled at that. “I’m glad I didn’t put up much of a fight with Shoko… it’s not like I would have won, to begin with.” You glanced down at the piece of paper, before glancing back up to meet his eyes once again. “I had a good time tonight. Thank you.” 
“You’re welcome.” 
“And, for what it’s worth,” you said, reiterating Sukuna’s words back to him, “I’m glad I got to know you a bit better.”
A red tint colored his cheeks for the nth time that night. “Yeah?”
You nodded, a small smile formed. “Yeah.” 
A beat of silence passed between you two before he asked you, “Can I try something?” 
You looked at him, questionably. “What is it?”
Sukuna took a step forward onto the first stair on the staircase, placing him at a higher height than you so you were no longer eye level with him. He reached towards you with a single hand, tenderly placing it on the side of your neck. He paused for several moments, gauging your reaction to see if you had any objection, to which you had none, before pulling you forward so that he could gently place a kiss to the crown of your hairline. Your breath hitched in your throat at the feeling of his lips on your forehead, but you remained still, basking in the physical affection that he wanted to give you. It only lasted for several seconds before he pulled his lips away and took his hand off your neck and stepped backwards off the first stair, so that you were eye level with him again. 
“Have a good night, Y/N-chan. I’ll see you at the next group meetup, yeah?” Sukuna said, taking several steps backwards, but still maintaining eye contact with you. He reached up with one of his hands to rub at the back of his neck.
“Y-yeah. I’ll see you,” you stammered, your eyes locked on his retreating figure.
“Good. Get some sleep, yeah?”
“Y…you, too.”
Sukuna chuckled for the last time that night before he turned away from you, facing the other way so he could begin the venture back to his home. 
You stumbled up the stairs, nearly tripping over your feet as you did, inputting the code into the locked door before it granted you access back into the dorms. 
You unfolded the piece of paper to see the portrait that Sukuna had drawn for you and your breath caught in your throat when you first looked at it. There was such careful detail in what he had sketched out for you. From the way that he had shaded in your skin tone, to the meticulous line work that he had done for your face, specifically around your eyes, nose, and lips. He had drawn your hair to where it gently cascaded down your back, and wisps of stray strands softly wrapped around your face. To you, this sketch had felt like this was something that he had done with his heart and soul, rather than as a heat-of-the-moment thing to do simply because it was there. In this drawing, there was a gentleness and a tenderness that you felt like it couldn’t be replicated if he had tried to do it with someone else. 
He sketched you so beautifully in this; it was as if he had perfected his craft when it came to you. Had he done this in his spare time before? Was this truly how he saw you and interpreted you and your existence?
You turned to look through the window on the door to see Sukuna’s body frame get smaller and smaller the more that he walked away from you and put more distance between himself and the girls dormitories. 
Sukuna Ryomen was a man who was not good with his words; his actions, however, were far louder.
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satellite-evans · 6 months ago
Text
Coffee Shop Sweetheart
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader
Summary: having a coffee date with Charles <3
Word count: 1.1k
Warnings: fluff
A/N:
I am not quite familiar with Charles but I tried my best lol
English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.
Happy reading xxx
I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.
The café buzzed with soft morning energy. The hiss of the espresso machine, the faint clinking of cups, and the soothing jazz drifting through the air. You stepped up to the counter, glancing briefly at the menu even though you already knew what you wanted.
The barista greeted you with a cheery smile, her colorful bandana adding a pop of vibrancy to the cozy atmosphere. “Hi there! Welcome to our coffee shop. What can I get started for you today?”
“Hi,” you replied, smiling back. “I’ll have a caramel latte, medium, please.”
“Anything to eat?”
You looked at the display of pastries before nodding. “A croissant, please. But, uh… could you make sure it’s nice and flaky? No soggy ones today,” you added with a playful grimace.
The barista laughed. “Got it. Flaky croissant, no soggy surprises. Anything else?”
“That’s all,” you said, reaching into your bag for your wallet.
The barista handed you the receipt with a wink. “Coming right up!”
As you moved to wait by the pickup counter, you glanced at your phone. Charles had texted you an hour ago, insisting you meet him here, his favorite café that served the best coffee, in his opinion. Now, as the minutes ticked by, you couldn’t help but wonder where he was.
Just as you were about to text him, a familiar voice sounded from behind.
“Demanding as always, I see.”
You turned, and there he was. Charles stood by the door, leaning casually against the frame with his trademark lopsided grin. His black t-shirt clung to him perfectly, and his messy brown hair looked effortlessly tousled, as though he’d just rolled out of bed.
“Charles,” you said, raising an eyebrow, though your lips twitched into a smile. “You’re late.”
“Late?” he said, stepping closer. “Non, ma chérie, I’m fashionably on time, thank you very much.” He gestured toward you dramatically, his green eyes twinkling with mischief.
“You’re so full of it,” you shot back, folding your arms. “What’s your excuse this time?”
He scratched the back of his neck, feigning guilt. “Fine. I may have gotten… distracted.”
“Distracted by what?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.
He leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “By how good I looked in the mirror this morning. I couldn’t leave until I was absolutely certain I’d perfected this.” He waved a hand down himself with a playful flourish.
You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of you. “You’re full of shit, you know that?”
“And yet,” he said, stepping even closer, “you adore me.”
Before you could respond, the barista chimed in from behind the counter. “Hi! What can I get for you?”
Charles turned his charm to her, his grin widening. “An espresso, please. And I’ll take care of hers too,” he added, nodding toward you.
You started to protest. “Charles, you don’t have to—”
He held up a hand, silencing you with a smug smile. “I insist. Consider it my apology for keeping you waiting.”
The barista handed back his card with a knowing smile. “You two are adorable,” she said as she went to prepare the drinks.
“Merci,” Charles replied smoothly, turning back to you with a wink.
When the drinks and your croissant arrived, Charles was quick to grab your latte, taking a long sip before you could stop him.
“Charles!” you exclaimed, trying to snatch it back.
He grinned, holding it just out of your reach. “I needed to make sure it was safe for you.”
“Safe?”
“Yes,” he said, finally handing it over. “I had to make sure that there was not poison in it.”
You shook your head, laughing despite yourself.
As the two of you settled into a table by the window, Charles slid onto the bench beside you instead of sitting across, his knee brushing against yours.
“Do you mind?” you asked, giving him a pointed look.
“Not at all,” he said breezily, leaning closer. “I want to be near you.”
“Charles, we’re in public,” you murmured, trying to sound exasperated but failing miserably when he reached up to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.
“And?” he replied, his fingers lingering in your hair. “Public or not, I want to remind you how lucky I am to have you.”
You glanced at him, surprised by the tenderness in his expression. “You’re really laying it on thick today, aren’t you?”
He smiled, shrugging as he began absentmindedly playing with the ends of your hair. “Maybe. Or maybe I just can’t help it when you look like this.”
“Like what?” you asked, your voice quieter now.
“Like the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” he said simply, his green eyes locking onto yours.
Your heart fluttered at the sincerity in his tone, and for a moment, you were at a loss for words.
Charles tilted his head slightly, studying you with that mischievous glint in his eye. “Would it be inappropriate if I kissed you right now?”
“Charles,” you hissed, glancing around.
“What? No one’s watching,” he whispered, leaning closer.
“Except the barista, the other customers…”
He smirked, brushing his lips lightly against your temple before moving to whisper in your ear. “Then I’ll just have to be sneaky.”
Before you could protest, he cupped your cheek gently and pressed a featherlight kiss to the corner of your lips. It was quick, but enough to leave your skin tingling.
“Charles!” you whispered, your cheeks burning.
He pulled back, utterly pleased with himself. “That was worth it,” he said softly, his voice low and filled with warmth.
As you settled back into your seat, trying to recover from his antics, Charles leaned closer again. This time, his voice was barely audible over the café noise. “Meet me in the bathroom.”
Your eyes widened, and you shot him a scandalized look. “Have you actually lost your mind?”
He grinned, leaning back nonchalantly. “Can you blame me? You look this good, and I’m supposed to just sit here like nothing’s happening?”
You opened your mouth to retort, but he cut you off, tilting his head playfully. “C’mon, give me another kiss, at least.”
“You need to stop,” you whispered, glancing around.
He leaned in, his expression softening. “Just one. Please? I promise I’ll behave after.”
Despite yourself, you couldn’t resist the puppy-dog look in his eyes. Quickly, you leaned in to brush your lips against his.
The grin that spread across his face was one of pure satisfaction. “Merci, mon amour,” he murmured, pulling you closer to his side.
“You’re a horny teenager, that's what you are,” you said, shaking your head with a smile.
“And you’re perfect,” he replied, his voice full of affection.
For the rest of the morning, Charles remained glued to your side. And though his antics left your cheeks burning more than once, you couldn’t help but love every second of it.
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orchidsarchives · 1 year ago
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I am kinda curious
What would Jason be like if the coffee Cafe owner!reader built in a small library in her Cafe just for him,like she saw he liked reading and went like 'yup. I am building a small library for him'
This is such a fun idea, but omg please forgive me, I went a little overboard. Once I figured out what to write, I couldn’t stop. I apologize for how long it is. But omg also, I was literally kicking my feet and giggling writing the end lol, Anyways enjoy!
Owning a cafe was a difficult job, there was always much to do— customers to attend to, drinks to make, and maintenance to do. You were always busy, but you loved your job.
You had spent a lot of time curating the perfect atmosphere for your beloved customers. The lighting was warm, with fairy lights and lanterns dangling from the ceiling. There was wooden furniture and two old couches that sat by the glass windows. The tiny space smelled of freshly brewed coffee and sweet bread. The cafe was always inviting. 
You had many regulars at the coffee shop, each one with their own story, a different purpose.
For the past six months, twice a week, every Thursday and Saturday morning, a tall man walked in. Jason, you recalled his name from the many times you prepared his drinks. He’d order the same thing every time, a small London fog and a walnut banana bread.
He’d sit at the table nearest to the entrance, his back never towards the door.
Every morning, he’d come in with a new book. You had seen him read Franz Kafka, Oscar Wilde and Jane Austen; he’d read a lot of Austen.
He was a mystery and you wanted to know more. 
You found Jason quite handsome. His skin was scattered with scars and you often found yourself staring at the permanent wound near his lips. You wanted to run your fingers along it, to trace it, to kiss it. 
His eyes were always kind, a deep shade of green, forest-like you’d think to yourself. 
He spoke with kindness. His voice velvety and rich, much like the espresso you’d brew everyday, except his voice was never bitter, almost always doused with honey. 
Sometimes you’d catch him looking over at the counter, at you, you’d hoped. 
Your coworkers were afraid of him, telling you to stay away, but you couldn’t help yourself. He was like an enticing book, waiting to be read. They’d warn you, “do not engage in too much conversation with the strange man.” But it was as if they were talking to a small child, their words would go in one ear and out the other.
“Strange,” you would never use that word to describe him.
From the small talk you had with him, to his choice in books, to even his taste in tea, you’d never describe him as strange.
Gentle was the word you’d choose.
He was huge, all height and muscle, terrifying to most, however to you, he was everything but that. You saw an angel and you didn’t even know him… yet, you’d tell yourself.
There were days, where you almost gained the courage to ask for his number, maybe ask for small detail, perhaps get a glimpse of his life. But each attempt was futile. Why was it so hard to speak to him for more than five minutes, you’d curse your inability to speak to attractive men.
-
You were beginning to give up on your dreams of getting to know the beautiful stranger, when he walked in through door.
The conversation began as per usual.
“Morning Jason, what can I grab you today,” you asked politely. He smiled softly in return and you stare at the scar by his lip as he begins to speak.
“Uhh surprise me,” you look at him confused, he’s never done that before and he finds himself smiling harder. “Just kidding, I’ll just the take the usual please,” he says as he places his copy of Jane Eyre on the counter to take out his wallet.
“Brontë, why am I not surprised,” you reply, gazing at the book. You take the cash from his hands and your heart drops. Shades of purple and crimson coat his skin. They’re bruised, again.
“What can I say, I’m a man of taste,” he smirks. You roll your eyes and giggle.
“Now who told you that,” and he shrugs. Then there’s a lull, you don’t know what to say now. It isn’t awkward, but you find yourself starting feeling a little uneasy. God, if you only you could come up with something else to say. You shake your head slightly and begin to warm up his banana bread.
You turn around and wait for him to leave, but he doesn’t walk away to his usual table this time, instead he takes a seat next to the counter. Odd, you thought.
Jason’s gaze doesn’t leave you for a second, he watches you in admiration, you don’t quite catch on.
If you thought Jason was handsome, then he thought you belonged in a museum. You were a work of art in his eyes. The kind of beauty they wrote poetry about. Absolutely stunning.
He wanted to get to know you, speak to you, but he was afraid. If you didn’t reciprocate his feelings, then he may never be able to see you again. The trips to the cafe would no longer be necessary and he wouldn’t know what to do with himself.
However today, Jason pushes his fears aside, he feels bold. He finds his confidence and he speaks.
“Do you read much,” he asks suddenly. You place his cup of tea and bread in front of him, and nod your head.
“I do, but not what you read,” you reply and he stares into your eyes, curious. “I mostly read magazines, you know Vogue and stuff,” his smile drops a little, he’s trying really hard to not look judgemental. Cute, you think. “Kidding, I read fantasy mostly,” and his face lights up again.
“So like J.K. Rowling,” he questions.
“No, Harry Potter’s good, but I’m not really a fan of her, you know as a person. I’ve been reading a lot Neil Gaiman recently though,” you say.
“Oh fuck, yeah, she’s said some pretty crazy stuff huh,” and you nod again. “Gaiman though, I don’t think I’ve ever read his stuff before, he any good,” he asks and your eyes go wide, you’re excited.
You spend the next hour of his visit speaking to him about books, about the things that you both like.
You only part from the conversation when there was a customer.
You’ve never felt this way before, all the assumptions you made about him were true. He was an angel, a kind and gentle one.
-
A month goes by and you notice your relationship with Jason change. Now, instead of sitting by the entrance of the cafe, he sits near you, back against the door. A sign of trust, you assumed. He smiled more, he showed his teeth and he laughed, hard. You loved the sound of his laugh. His eyes looked brighter, greener, emerald-like. He still walked in with a new book, but when the conversation began, it was long forgotten.
You watched his bruises heal and you watched new ones appear, you were always curious, but never had the courage to ask. He’d tell you when he was ready.
As time went by, you found yourself wanting to do something for him, you wanted him to know that you cared. You thought that if your words were going to fail you, then maybe your actions would prove otherwise.
-
Working a closing shift at the cafe on a gloomy Tuesday evening, you find yourself thinking of different gestures you could do.
Ideas came and left, nothing felt good enough. He deserved the best. Trying to busy your mind elsewhere, you begin to sweep the floors and that’s when inspiration hits you.
There, in the coffee shop, lies an empty corner. An odd spot, not necessarily small, but also not large enough either.
A perfect fit for a decently sized bookshelf. A library, for the community, but most importantly for Jason. You smile to yourself, proud at the thought. He’d love this, you knew he would.
The next morning you find yourself drilling holes into the pale walls of the cafe, trying attach the large shelf you lugged down to the shop.
Once everything was fixed into its rightful place, you begin adding the books, by genre and then by the authors’ last names. You add many of Jason’s favourites, multiple copies of Austen. You add children’s books, comics and something for yourself.
The shelf fits right into the ambiance of the cafe, elevating it honestly. The corner looked cosy and you found yourself wanting to sit by one of the couches with a book and a cup of hot chocolate.
You stare at the shelf once more, proud. Now, you just had to wait.
-
Jason walks into the cafe the next day, he’s late. He arrives near closing time. It’s just you and him in the cafe, most of your staff left for the day and not many people stayed this late. It’s quiet, the only sound coming from the machines on your side of the counter. He’s holding another book in his hand, but he has no intention of reading tonight.
His hair is slicked back, and there’s a small cut on his forehead. He’s dressed in a white dress shirt and black pants. He looks like he’s coming back from a big event or maybe he’s going to one later. Either way, he looks pretty like this, his arms look more defined and you can make out the muscles on his back when he walks around the room, waiting for his drink.
His eyes wander around the cafe before settling on the bookshelf nestled in the odd corner. His eyes soften, he’s never noticed that before, it must be new, he thinks.
“When’d you get this,” he asks, his fingers running along the spines of the books. He’s smiling, there’s so many books.
“Yesterday, it’s for you,” you say, holding your breath. This is it, the moment you’ve been preparing for.
“For me,” he looks over at you as you settle his tea on the counter. You begin walking over to his side, slowly, riddled with nerves.
“Yes, since you’re always here, I thought you’d like having a book shelf here. It’s like a library, you take a book and then you-“ he cuts you off suddenly.
“You made a library for me in your cafe, are you serious,” he’s trying to hold back a smile, you can tell. His scar gets more prominent when he does that. “Why,” he as asks, his voice is soft, it feels like warm milk with honey, comforting.
“You’re gonna make me say it,” you can’t see your face, but it feels hot, you can tell you’re blushing.
“Yeah, say it. Why is there a library in your cafe for me,” he says, enunciating the words “your” and “for me.” He’s smirking now. He knows the answer, he just wants to hear it from you.
The point of the library was to not have to say anything, for your actions to speak for you, but here you are. Ears burning and palms clammy.
“I…,” you trail off, you look around the room, anywhere but his face. He notices and walks closer, his hands gently make their way around your waist.
“Say it,” he exclaims, it’s not forceful, he’s smiling and shades of pink dust his cheeks.
You close your eyes shut, fuck, you’re going to have to say it.
“I really like you jas-,” and with that, his lips find their way to your own. You move in harmony, much like matcha and oat milk. His lips are sweet, he tastes like the banana bread, he decided to eat while pacing around the cafe. Your hands find their way to his shoulders, you pull back and smile. You peck his lips. Once where the scar is and once more on the centre. He grins.
“You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear that from you,” he mumbles against your lips, waiting for you to kiss him again.
And you do, you kiss him again and again.
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bunnyinvanilla · 6 months ago
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sugar daddy!john price x booklover (bookworm) sugar baby fem!reader series
🍧| warnings: fluuuuff!!! laaarge age gap, price is in his 40s and reader is 21, sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship (they’re in love lol), silly ppl, im basically reader lol
you’re standing in front of john’s desk, in your pink converse and with glossed, shiny lips “daddy?” your shy, timid voice draws his attention away from the secret file he was working on.
“what is it, angel?” his eyes are on you, but his mind is quiet elsewhere, and you don’t blame him, he’s been so busy lately, all kind of missions to prepare and work on, paperwork to do, order storage for the bar. you didn’t wanna bother him :(
“uhm, there’s this..this trend going on,” you start, words lingering into thin air as you hesitate and trail off, his brows narrowing at the word trend. was this going to be one of those young people things he didn’t understand?
“where couples go to the bookstore together, the guy gives his girl five minutes to look around for any books she wants, and then gets her however many books she can hold and carry within that set time…”
he’s never heard of it, he doesn’t have social media, and has no idea what a trend it — your old, grumpy man :,(
john’s frown dissolves, and he leans his broad shoulders back against his chair, quickly digging his hand into the pocket of his trousers, then jacket.
he pulls out a leather wallet, opens it, and picks up a credit card — you blink, towards the card and then at him, a sweet confused expression on your face.
“here, doll” he hands it over to you, eyes distractingly reading something he’d written on the file, his mind and focus drifting back to his work.
“what is that?” you ask, ditzy in your own cloudy mind, “I don’t want your credit card,”
he looks up at you again, a puzzled expression now replacing the previous concentration. “what do you mean sweetheart? why not?”
“Im not asking for your money, im asking you to come with me, pretty please?” you hold your hands together, a sparkling, puppy dog pleading look in your eyes. “wanna get more books”
“oh love, daddy can’t go right now, he’s got too many things to do, princess, do you want me to ask one of the boys to go with you?”
“no, i wanna go with you” you pout softly, sitting on the edge of his desk and looking at him over your shoulder “can we go when you’re done sir? that’s the whole point of the trend, couples going together”
“you could go with my card and buy the entire bookstore, doll?”
“but then I wouldn’t be spending time with you..” you let your legs swing over the edge, looking down at all the files and scattered papers.
he lifts his arm up, tugging at the sleeve of his buttoned down shirt and looking at his watch. “can you wait an hour? let daddy read this bad mean criminal’s file case?”
you smile, leaning over the desk, and press your glossed lips against his, giving him a quick, sweet kiss. “of course daddy, thank you, love you, you’ll help me pick books from my wishlist”
you jump off the desk, send him a flying kiss and go to your — shared — room. He licks the strawberry gloss off his mustache, smiling at the door. You’re probably the only sugar baby in the world who asks for his attention and love instead of his credit card.
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delopsia · 3 months ago
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Soft! Rhett thoughts:
Rhett has seen you around town a few times and thinks you’re beautiful, he bumps into you at the local diner and stutters his way through an introduction. Rhett feels so out of his element all the sudden ,he doesn’t know why he’s done things a lot scarier and stupider than asking a stranger out on a date but with sweaty palms and shaky hands he manages to ask you out (if mentioned later he’ll deny how he anxious he was). Since he doesn’t have much money it’s a picnic but since he burns anything he cooks he just prepares fruit, chips and sandwiches lol. You watch the sunset together and once night falls you ask him to name the stars and constellations for you, (at this point he’s pretty sure he’d do anything you ask). The two of you are laying in the bed of his truck with several blankets to lay on and to cover with, you fall asleep with your head on his chest as he quietly points out the stars whilst rubbing his hand against your back. (In the morning you’re both woken up by the sun and royal chews into rhett for being an hour late to work but rhett can’t seem to find it in himself to care)
Btw I am by no means a writer but I hope this thought made you feel better 🩷
Rhett being absolutely smitten and losing all of his usual confidence is so precious to me 😭 Why is hopping onto the back of a bull a million times easier than asking to get a coffee with you? Big dummy is so stressed about the question itself that he entirely forgets one crucial detail. The only place in town that serves coffee is closed due to a recent fire. Worse, you two are standing directly across the street from it, and the fire damage is ✨painfully obvious✨
"I! Uhm, sorry I forgot about...lunch? No—!" Because the coffee shop is also the only restaurant in town. Twenty something years in this town and he's blubbering like a damn tourist, ears red as can be, and heavily considering if he should just flee the country at this point. But then you suggest a late lunch in the park, and just like that, you've got him hook, line, and sinker. He's nodding his head without a second thought, like an obedient little puppy, entirely forgetting how far his wallet is stretched right now.
Rhett can make a decent sandwich, but he's fortunate enough that his amused mom hangs around in the kitchen to supervise and give him pointers, lest he drown that poor turkey sandwich in mayonnaise again. Perry makes like a vulture and lingers around for the inevitable mess-ups and extra fruits that are left over, and he's the only reason why Rhett doesn't walk out and forget the damn sandwiches on the counter 😭
Sitting on a blanket in the grass is cute for a little while, but the bugs arrive before the sandwich bags open. And somehow, you two find yourselves sitting on opposite sides of his truck bed, legs tangled and laughing about how Rhett nearly spilled the blueberries when a crane fly tried to land on him. Rhett's trying to save face, but it's hard to feel embarrassed when your laughter sounds like a melody sent straight from the heavens.
There's a selfish part of him that is absolutely thrilled when he realizes it's a chillier night than what he initially expected. You're scooting closer to him, muttering about the cold, and he's wrapping an arm around you, and you're cuddling into him like a cute little bug and, and
he's going to die.
The only thing that slows his racing heart is you asking about the constellations, and well, he can't help but tell you everything he knows. His deep voice is so soothing that at some point, he puts you to sleep, and :( he just melts. There's no way that he's comfortable in this truck bed, but somehow he falls asleep with his cheek resting against your forehead. You haven't the slightest clue about it, but come morning, you've got a cowboy wrapped around your finger 💕
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honeybeedrabble · 2 years ago
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can i get a shikamaru x reader, where they are on a mission together to the sand village and perhaps only one bed 😈😈 (also include gaara if u can i love sand emos) - also only one tent and pillow wall
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MDNI 18+
OMG. THIS !!!! mission sex? probably the hottest sex. at least for shinobi. something about shikamaru improperly using shadow paralysis while the Kazekage feels you up in his office 😳😳
CW: AFAB reader x shikamaru x gaara, somnophilia, mission sex, only one tent, only one sleeping bag, handjob, cum eating (?), eiffel tower, MFM threesome, improper use of shadow possession, pet names, unprotected piv (don’t be stupid), cream pie (don’t be stupid), oral (m receiving) lmk what else lol
September 22. It was September 22, Shikamaru’s 19th birthday and yet he was summoned by the Hokage for a mission. Sure, he could’ve just declined, everyone told him to anyways, but Shikamaru knew some things had to be done. And yeah, he complained the whole time that it was ‘a drag to work on his birthday’ but with his wallet running slimmer by the day, a low risk mission to the hidden sand didn’t seem like the worst idea for a couple ryō. He figured he’d throw a bigger belated birthday party after he got paid so to him it was whatever.
When he was summoned to the Hokages quarters and saw that he wouldn’t be alone, but instead paired up with you? Oh baby… it was a win-win for Shikamaru all around. The mission itself was easy, travel to the hidden sand, deliver a few scrolls and plant a few medicinal herbs native to konoha. Since the war has been passed for a few years, the allied nations don’t seem to have any animosity towards each other and the path ahead should be clear.
It didn’t take long for you two to head out, traveling west to the village. You hadn’t exactly come prepared, telling Shikamaru that you had already been assigned for this mission before he had so you had only packed one tent and one sleeping bag. Luckily you had enough hindsight to see you might have some food or water shortages, especially in the desert heat, and rations weren’t an issue.
When traveling, Shikamaru told you to lead the way so he could keep a better eye on you. But to be honest, he was just staring at your ass the whole time, watching your hips sway side to side after each step you took. It caught him off gaurd when you turned you head to speak to him.
“Hey, isn’t it your birthday?” you asked, ignoring the feeling you thought you caught him staring at your ass (you did).
“Yeah, why’d you ask?”
“I dunno, I guess never took you for the type to not celebrate your birthday.” You replied with a shrug. Shikamaru raised a brow.
“ What d’you mean?”
“Well I mean… going on a three day mission to the hidden sand and back doesn’t quite strike me as a celebration,” you said with a laugh. Shikamaru chuckled.
“I guess you’re right. It is a real drag having to do this but I need the money anyways. Besides, if I didn’t come you’d be out here all by yourself, who’d protect you then?” He smirked. You blushed, shrugging off your flustered reaction with an eye roll.
“Pft, maybe someone who brought their own sleeping bag,” you teased.
“Touché. But you have to admit, the company’s nice.”
“It is... Happy birthday, Shikamaru.”
“Thanks.”
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You two had somehow traveled a little ways past the halfway point, and you could tell by how late it was partnered with how tired you felt. After a long dinner of canned soup, protein bars, jerky and dried fruit you had pulled out the tent. Snapping each piece together with a small click each time. You threw the cover on and tucked in the corners, zipping the tents zippers in place before unzipping and crawling in. Once you were in you rolled out your sleeping bag.
“Do you want to share?” You asked, unzipping the zipper and opening up the bag. Shikamaru was slightly taken aback and shook his head.
“No it’s fine, s’my fault I didn’t pack a bag, I don’t want to inconvenience you.” He said, laying down on the grass. You cocked an eyebrow at him.
“It’s big enough for the both of us, trust me I’ve had to do this on a few missions before. Nothing I’m not used to.” You reassured, laying down inside. You motioned with your hands for him to come inside and he let out a small huff.
“Fine, but only cause you wore me down.” He said, trying to hide his excitement.
He crawled into the tent, immediately he could tell how much warmer it was with you. Shikamaru got in next to you and zipped the bag up behind him. He nestled closer to you and you flipped on your side facing away from him, and he settled in against your back in the snug sleeping bag.
“I’m sorry about your birthday,” you said, still facing away. His head sunk lower near yours.
“Don’t worry. It’s going a lot better than I thought it was,” he said low and sleepy.
You had fallen asleep pretty fast, he could tell because of the soft, steady breaths you took besides him. While you were happily sleeping, you didn’t anticipate occasionally grinding into him. The push of your ass was enough to keep Shikamaru awake, and he couldn’t help himself from sleepily grinding into you. When you stirred for a moment Shikamaru stilled immediately, his heart pounding out of his chest. When he heard your sleepy sighs and breaths he went back to his prior movements.
He continued to press himself against you, moving when you did. The curve of your ass hugging the outline of his dick euphorically. However, the pleasure was subsided by his need for sleep and his hips stopped meeting yours in an attempt to save energy. He realized most of the grinding was on his part and not yours, when he stopped you had. Slowly he drifted off, fighting the urge to not jerk himself off under your shared sleeping bag while you dreamt.
_______________________________________________
The second day you two had decided to take things easier and walk half of the time rather than run. While you were leading, Shikamarus gaze felt hungrier. Everytime you looked back, his eyes lingered on your ass far too long to be a coincidence. You had a feeling yesterday, but today had confirmed your suspicions.
“So, what are you planning on doing when you get home?” You asked him, turning your head to look at him. His eyes lingered on your ass for a few seconds shamelessly before snapping up and meeting yours.
“I’m going straight home, I’ve got something in mind,” he said, his lips curling into a small smirk. You were confused.
“What do you mean? Are you gonna have the party at your house?” You asked. Shikamaru let out a small laugh, his hand reaching down to adjust his crotch, his semi hard on making itself present.
“Sure, I guess I can call it a party. But it’s gonna be a party of just myself, unless you wanted to join me?” His eyes had gotten darker and filled with lust as they returned to your ass. You felt your face heat and you felt naked under Shikamarus gaze.
“Um… sure. We can have a small party before everyone gets there. You said you wanted it at your house?” You asked, trying desperately to get his attention. He looked up at your again, his hand adjusting his pants again.
“More specifically my bedroom,” he whispered coming up behind you. He brushed the back of his hand against your ass before passing you and taking the lead himself with you to follow.
____________________________________________________________
That night when sleeping with Shikamaru in the tent under your sleeping bag, Shikamaru was a mess. He spent 24 hours sexually frustrated, all while he was alone with you. He was a wreck and couldn't help himself to the cruve of your ass for a second night. He was sure you were alseep, but he didn't care if you werent.
He wrapped his arms around you, mercilessly grinding himself into your hips while you stirred underneath him. You couldn't fall back asleep with his movements and you were so turned on it was almost painful. You could feel yourself drenched with arousal as he abused your ass cheeks with his hard cock. You didn't know if you should pretend to be asleep or rock your hips into him and risk him stopping.
Shikamaru was animalistic, growling and whimpering into your ear as his arms flexed around your core, and you couldn't pretend for any longer. You smashed yourself into his groin, grinding pleasantly against his dick. An arm came out from its grip on your waist and gripped your wrist tightly. He unbuckled his pants with the other and brought your hand down to his boxers, where he palmed himself with your hand.
You couldn't help but gasp lightly, feeling how large he swelled under your touch. He hissed as your fingers traced the outline, then shoved his boxers aside for his dick to spring out. He guided your hand to his dick, where you reached out for his tip. He let out a shaky exhale as you smeared his precum around his angry tip, dragging the liquid arousal down his shaft and back up. He groaned in your ear, fucking your fist from behind as you lay at your side.
"Shit- you've got some soft hands." He let out between breaths, slowing his pace to feel every crease of your palm wrapped around his cock.
He picked up his pace, suddenly feeling too crazed with lust to savor your touch. He reached under you, pulling your other arm behind you to add to his pleasure. You whined, rubbing your thighs together sleepily for any friction you could get, the stitch of your pants working just enough to have you craving more. You closed your eyes, imagining how his cock looked soaking wet with his own precum as you jerked him off, his heavy, euphoric breaths mixing with the squelch of your grip on his shaft.
You pumped upwards, your thumb circling his drooly tip and he whined bucking himself into your finger.
"Ah- fuckkk. Do that again. Get as much as you can and slather it over my cock." he instructed, his voice straining. You did, dragging his precum and coating his shaft with the liquid. His breath hitched for a second, grapsing your hands from behind you and cupping them together in front of his tip.
"Fuck-Fuck-Fuck," He moaned heavily, grasping his dick and angrilly pumping it with his own hands. "Ngh- fuck. ahhh..." He spilled his thick ropes into your hands, the ribbons full and heavy. As soon as he finished cumming he dragged his dick into the cupped seed, fucking your hands one last time before putting himself away.
"Eat up," he smirked, whispering in your ear lazily. He fell asleep soon after and you wiped your hands off on your pants with your inner thigh. You licked a finger, tasting his cum and felt hornier than ever. You had to go to sleep that night without touching yourself, not wanting to get his leftover cum inside of you.
__________________________________________________________
The next morning morning neither of you spoke about the previous night. Shikamaru was internally cursing himself for being so unprofessional and letting his perversions get to him. You however, were craving more. You didn’t get to see him that night, how his eyebrows knotted and his eyes pinched shut as his mouth fell open letting out pleasurable moans while cumming several roles into your palms. You thought about it a lot and by the time you two reached the hidden sand you were soaking.
These scrolls were important and by no means was anyone allowed to open or read the contents inside. In order to prevent any curious eyes, you and Shikamaru were ordered to deliver them to the Kazekage himself. When you entered the building the Kazekag was sat at his desk, the room empty as he awaited your arrival.
“Ah, the hidden leaf shinobi. I take it that the journey was easy?” He asked.
“Yeah, the way over wasn’t too bad, Lord Gaara.” Shikamaru said, stepping in with you to follow, closing the door behind you.
“Thats a relief, I’m aware that your birthday was two days ago so I apologize for the abrupt mission. And please Shikamaru, no reason to be so formal with such an old friend.” Gaara said with a small smile. Shikamaru nodded. “And hello to you too,” Gaara said, switching the conversation towards you. You smile.
“Hello, Lord Gaara! It’s nice seeing you again. I wish it was under different circumstances though, with the journey back we’ll have to get on our way soon.” You sigh sadly.
“Now now, no need to rush. I haven’t seen you in a while, why don’t you sit down? I missed you.” Gaaras voice was lower, his eyes gently looking into yours. You felt hot suddenly, and definitely didn’t want to act weird around the Kazekage. You needed some air.
“Um, sure. Sorry, I’ll be back I just need some air.” You said, fanning yourself. You spun around and headed for the door when suddenly your body froze in place. You grunted trying to move your legs when you watched thick, black stripes make their way up your legs. Your eyes widened, turning you head behind you.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Shikamaru asked demandingly, his eyes narrowed looking at yours. Shadow paralysis. He walked up to you and turned you around, still stuck in his jutsu.
“What are you doing, Captain?” you whined, looking back at the men in front of you. Shikamaru wandered behind you, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your neck.
“Fuck- I’ve been thinking about this all mission. That handy you gave me last night isn’t nearly enough, I need you.” he breathed heavy into your skin. You felt your body shake, a vibration sent down your spine as Shikamaru nibbled gently on your delicate skin. You watched through half lidded eyes as Gaara approached you, his hands sliding between your shirt and vest and he slid the vest off- it hit the floor with a light thud.
“I haven’t seen you in months,” He whispered, grabbing your waist and rubbing small circles with his thumbs. “I almost forgot how you felt,” He added. Gaara grabbed the end of your shirt, pulling it over your head slowly and watching as your skin started to reveal itself under the lifted fabric. As he tossed the garment to the floor, Shikamaru was quick to undo your bra clasps, pushing the straps off your shoulders as the underwear landed on your shirt and vest on the ground.
“So beautiful,” Gaaras eyes were blown and dark, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you into him. His head dipped down to your tits, popping a hardened nipple into his mouth and rolling it between his tongue. You couldn’t help but let out a soft breath, still unable to move the paralysis placed on you. You tried struggling with the jutsu, yet ultimately unable to undo yourself from Shikamarus power.
He grabbed your head and pulled it to the side, then pulled himself into your lips, crashing into you with a messy kiss. You moaned into his mouth, your cunt already wet with arousal as Gaara fondled your other fit in his hand. Shikamaru was able to silence your moans with his tongue as it lazily lapped at yours slowly and softly. He opened his mouth and a trail of spit connected you two together.
“Goddamn, you make me crazy. I ought to bend you over that desk and take you for myself.” Shikamaru said, grabbing a fistful of your ass. You whined, the feeling of his shadow around you tightening.
“Don’t be selfish. You can have her all you want back at the leaf, I don’t have that luxury,” Gaara said, popping your tit out of his mouth with a pop. “Ngh- I want to touch you… be inside you… taste you… I have to have you, beautiful. Right on my desk.” Gaara picked you up, Shikamarus shadow possession allowing you to wrap your legs around him.
He brought you to his desk, Shikamaru standing in front of it with you and Gaara behind. You felt the jutsu gently leave, allowing you to move better. You bent of the desk, Gaaras chest pressed against your back as his hands trailed down your stomach down to your core. He unbuttoned you pants from the back, grabbing the zipper and slowly pulling it down. He then lifted off of you and pulled your pants and panties off together. He whimpered softly as he watched your slick covered underwear fall down your thighs. You stepped out of your pants, naked and splayed out on the desk, shaking gently in arousal.
“I knew it, you were wet,” Gaara groaned, palming his erection through his pants. Shikamaru smirked, undoing his pants and sliding them half way down his thighs. You reached for his boxers, grabbing his waistband and freeing his hard cock. You whined in excitement, pleased by the sight of his hard dick already wet with precum.
Gaara thrusted his clothed dick into your wet cunt, you breathed deeply, tossing your head back to look back at him. He backed off just to undo his own pants, freeing his own sizable dick. You watched as he rubbed the head of his cock against your wet entrance and you both moan in need. He pushed slightly in, you moaned heavily as you felt him part you in half, his thick cock already nudging a spongy spot inside of you. He pushed the rest of his length in and bottomed out inside of you with a raspy groan.
Shikamaru was getting impatient, gliding his hand up and down his girthy length. He positioned his head at your opened mouth and you accepted his angry red tip with gratitude. He hisses in delight, his fingers digging into your hair as your slid him down your throat until he hit the back. You gagged around his length, then slowly released him, grabbing his dick and licking his tip to taste his salty precum, remembering what little you tasted last night.
“You look so beautiful with dick in your mouth. Ngh- feel so warm… so wet… Ahh, I can’t help myself.” Gaara huffed out, slowly sliding out of you before roughly thrusting himself into you again. You moaned around Shikamarus cock, slick running down your thighs as the momentum pushed you further down Shikamarus shaft. Shikamaru winced, his grip on your hair loosening.
“Sucking dick like a natural, I don’t even think I need to put in any work,” He smirked, resting his hand on the back of your head as Gaara stuffed you full of his rock-hard cock. He stuffed you roughly with a tight grip on your hips, you chocking on Shikamarus cock as he gasped in delight.
“Good girl,” Shikamaru praised, running a hand through your hair. You eyes watered as you looked up at him through your lashes, grabbing onto his thighs.
“So tight.. Oh fuuck you’re running down my thighs. Ahhh, beautiful girl, I’m going to miss this pussy,”Gaara grunted, pistoning you full with each snap of his hips. You drooled down Shikamarus cock, your jaw sore from his jolting thrusts inside you mouth. You tan your tongue up and down, tracing a vein that ran along his shaft as his precum continued to fill your mouth.
“Good girl, sucking me like a perfect cock whore. Shit… I’m almost there baby.” Shikamaru stifled, his hips gently thrusting into the back of your throat. You whined around his length, wishing that the pleasure would never end, regardless of your own high quickly approaching.
“Go ahead, love. Cum on this dick. I want to see you choke on his dick as you choke my cock,” Gaara lewdly growled, thirsting into you faster. Shikamaru groaned deeply as you moaned, the vibrations of your throat stimulating him in a new way as he came several ropes into your mouth. You tried swallowing each mouthful as you clenched around Gaaras cock, pulsing around him as warm, salty cum was poured down your throat.
“Fuuuck! Ahh- oh god… Your mouth is so good, you did so good.” Shikamaru praises, bending down to your level and holding your face in his hands as Gaara continues to sloppily fuck you. Shikamaru kissed you, sliding his tongue back into your mouth and tasting himself on your lips. You moan in his mouth still cumming around Gaara as his grip on your hips tighten.
“Ohhh… Yes! Almost, almost- I’m almost there. You’re s-so good,” Gaara breathed. “Cum with me,” Gaara said, hitting your spots just right. Your core aches as you came undone on his Kazekage desk, Shikamaru kissing you all over as Gaara pummeled you and then stilled, cumming deep inside of your pulsating cunt.
“Fuck! T-Thank you, Lord Gaara!” You cried into Shikamarus mouth, your legs shaking as the man behind you overstimulated you into a moaning puddle. Shikamaru planted one last kiss on your lips before he stood up and tucked himself away into his pants. Gaara lay ontop of you, occasionally pushing himself into you as he slowly softened until he pulled out, his cum spilling onto your naked thighs. He kissed the nape of you neck deeply, then stood up and pulled back up his boxers and pants.
You lie there fucked out and stupid, Shikamaru and Gaara exchanged scrolls while Shikamaru went digging through your bag for medicinal herbs that you brought with you.
“Excuse me, Shikamaru?” Gaara asked, completely ignoring the fact you were still naked and shuddering on his desk. Shikamaru raised an eyebrow.
“Yes?” He asked.
“I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday one last time,” Gaara smiled. Shikamaru stifled a laugh.
“Thanks, I think this might’ve been my best birthday so far.” He smirks, his gaze landing on you. You whimpered in embarrassment, still naked as the men in front of you softly embraced you in their stares.
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justmeinadaze · 11 months ago
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Secret Underneath Part 8 (Steddie X Plus Size You)
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Warnings: Older (Mid thirties) Sugar Daddies Steve and Eddie/ Young (Early to mid 20s) Baby Fem Plus Size Reader, SMUT, dirty talk, dp, skinny dipping, FLUFF, they love each other. They get to hang out with the readers best friend so she's protective <3
ANGST, not much (I know, weird! Lol), Boys hang out with reader and her bestie so she does quiz them a lot. Eddie talks about missing Wayne and gives reader more insight into his parents, Steve does that same.
Word Count: 4862
Series here/ Donate to Me <3
“Look, I’ve been her best friend since middle school so I’m not going to be as easy to suck up to as her parents.”, Mya announced making you smile beside her as you four continued to eat. 
“Pfft, that was easy?”, Steve asked playfully as he stuck a fry into his mouth. 
It had been a few days since the guys had shown up and in a couple more you would have to get ready to fly back home to get prepared for the new semester. The new year flew by with little to no fanfare and both men doubled down on your post by taking pictures with you and posting them on their socials. 
Their lawyers weren’t exactly thrilled stating they thought both men should lay low but they didn’t care. They wanted the whole world to know how much they loved you as a person and not because of what their ex was saying. Beside that one post you made, you still stayed away from your phone for fear of what you may read. You weren’t ready to handle any of that at a constant basis nor did you have any idea how you would handle it when you went to work but you decided you’d cross that bridge when you got there. 
Since he was the most recognizable, Eddie had his hair up and behind a cap as he ate but a few tendrils fell around his face almost dipping into the sauce of his plate before you reached over and moved it behind his ear. 
“Thank you, babe.”, he garbled with a full mouth making his friend roll his eyes as you giggled. 
“So what’s the plan for today?”
“Mya and I were thinking we could go to the little carnival down the way here. It’s an annual thing that we used to go to all the time growing up.”, you beam as your best friend leans on your shoulder. 
“That sounds like fun.”, the mogul smiles as he digs into his wallet and places his credit card next to the bill that the waiter hastily comes to pick up. 
“I can pay for my meals, Steven.”
“I know, Mya. Think of it as a Christmas gift since I wasn’t able to bring you anything.” Quirking his eyebrow towards her, she smirks in amusement before giving in and nodding her head. 
“Excuse me, Mr. Munson.”, a little voice shyly asks as a small boy appears at the rockstar’s side. “May I have your sign?”, he continues, holding up his hand in a waving motion to signal he wants an autograph. 
“Yeah, buddy, uh…”, Eddie’s eyes scan around the table, thanking you when you reach into your bag to grab a pen. “What’s your name?”
“Wayne.”
Eddie blinks and you see his smile falter for a moment before it widens again as he signs the paper the little boy handed him. 
“You know, that’s my uncle’s name. He taught me to play guitar when I was a bit older than you. Can you play guitar to?” The child shakes his head and the man laughs. “You have to learn, little dude. Maybe one day you’ll be on stage with me when I’m old and gray.”
The boy laughs as he thanks him and runs off towards his parents who silently thank him with a wave. 
“That was cute…Did you hire him?”
“Yup. You caught me, Mya. That’s actually my illegitimate son and those people posing as his parents are from my entourage.”, he replies with snark without missing a beat. 
Your best friend glances your way as you beam up at her with a “told you so” grin on your face that makes her own smile widen.
“Point one goes to you gentlemen. Let’s go have some fun.”
***
You giggle as Eddie tries to “root” for his friend as Steve and Mya go head-to-head shooting basketballs into the basket in front of them. 
“Come on, man. You were MVP in high school. She’s kicking your ass.”
“You’re not helping, asshole.”, the mogul breathily laughs.
The buzzer beeps loudly and his head falls as your best friend claps, raising her hands high in the air in victory. 
“I’m ashamed of you.”, the rockstar sighs jokingly before laughing when Steve pushes his arm. 
After extending his palm as an olive branch, Mya shakes it with big smile on her face. 
“I feel like together we could be stronger, My. What say we kick their ass in bumper cars?”
“Sounds like a plan, Steven.”
Throughout the evening, your best friend had not only been listening to the guys but watching how they treated you, taking in every little thing they did. When you went to lunch not only did they pull out your chair but hers. While walking up to the carnival area, they made sure to be on the side nearer the street for you both and always ran ahead to open any door that needed to be opened. Their physical mannerisms seemed to display a radiance of protective energy. When they weren’t attentively listening to the stories you both were telling, their eyes were scanning the area to make sure everything was alright. 
Even now, she watched as Eddie held your hand to help you into the bumper and then once you were seated he helped buckle you in before making you laugh as he pretended to speed off as the car remained still. 
“Munson is going to be ruthless I hope you know.”, Steve chuckles as he climbs in beside Mya.
“I can buckle my own seatbelt, Steven.”
“I would hope so.”, he grins after clicking the strap and leaning back as he waits for the ride to start. 
“So can she.”
The mogul’s face straightened as he turned to meet her eyes that were scanning his features. He understood what she meant and you had explained the other night that Mya knew what you were into in your private life. You trusted her with something so personal and he appreciated that. That’s how he felt about Eddie as a friend when it came to things they did. He wouldn’t have entered a shared relationship with him if he didn’t. 
“We know she can. It’s one of the reasons we love her…because she can handle herself. We love her strength and her sassy ass which after meeting you and her parents makes a lot of sense.” Steve smiles when your best friend laughs. 
“After everything happened, I looked you guys up. I tried to tell her things but she insisted she’d rather hear it from you. Obviously she knows about Gina but does she know about your dad? Does she know about the expose he did on you after giving you his company?”
“If she read that she’s never said. Y/N isn’t much of a business person and that was almost 10 years ago.”
“He doesn’t seem to have any real empathy towards you or your mother.”
“What’s your point, Mya?”, he snapped before realizing his tone and sighing. “I’m sorry. I just—”
“No, no. I get it. Trust me, I get it. That’s why I’m so protective over her. Y/N’s family has been there for me through everything and I see her as my sister. Holden took her away from us and everything she knew before breaking her heart. She looks at you two differently than she ever looked at him. She feels safe with you…so if you ever pull that bullshit again I will come after you.”, she warns as she raises her eyebrows and Steve tries to hide his smile. 
“Noted. I promise if that ever happens, which it won’t, we’ll fly down here personally for you to kill us.”
Eddie’s hand reaches for yours as he leans back and waits for the ride to start. 
“She’s definitely grilling him right now.”, the rockstar grins as he gestures with his head towards your friends. 
“Oh, 100%. I’m sorry if she comes off as rough. She’s been through a lot and has a hard exterior but her heart is soft…kind of like you.”, you grin up at him as he chuckles. “I wanted to ask you, um, are you ok after talking to that little boy? You seemed kind of sad after.”
“Yeah, I’m ok. I just miss my uncle sometimes. He’s very much like my father figure, you know, and being in Indiana…I don’t get to see him as much as I want. He, uh, he adores you.”
“Me? Edward Munson have you been talkin’ about me?”, you tease.
“Maybe.”, he grins as he kisses your forehead. “Maybe we could bring you home one weekend or even during the summer so you could meet him and some of our friends. I mean…if you want to…you don’t…have to.”
Your lips tenderly kiss his as you rest your chin on his shoulder. 
“I’d love to.”
The car underneath you suddenly comes to life gradually moving you and everyone around you forward.
“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s kick their ass.”
***
“Were you nice?”, you ask Mya as you walk her to her front door.
“I was nice enough.”
“So no then?”, you laugh as she smiles. 
“They do seem to care a lot about you and they are genuine which I appreciate. Holden only met with me that one time and I never heard from him again. You think I would have with how long you two were together.” 
“I’m sorry for that…for leaving you…”
“No reason to be sorry, honey. As long as you’re happy, I’m happy. I’m always going to be here for you.”
“Everything alright?”, Steve asks after you return to the car. 
“Yeah, I just really missed her.”
You giggle as Eddie crawled over the middle console making his friend playfully huff as he tumbled into the backseat to sit beside you. 
“Maybe sometime soon we can invite her up so she can hang out and see New York.”
You grin as you lean towards him to place a tender kiss on his lips. 
“Can I show you guys something?”
########################
Both men’s eyebrows furrowed when you directed them to a college nearby but even more so when you guided them to a building that was locked. 
“Ok, Eddie, baby. Can you lift me to that window please?”
“No.”, he answered sternly yet with a hint of teasing underneath. 
“Oh, come on, Daddy. I would never do anything to get you in trouble.”, you joke with a smile before Steve finally steps forward and helps lift you into the building. After a couple of minutes, they heard the lock on the other end clink open and were met with your beaming face when you opened the front door, ushing them inside. 
“This is the college I graduated from. We kind of had this club of cool kids who were able to come here and hangout. If the window is unlocked that means no one is here. I locked it after climbing through so it’ll just be us. Apparently students have been doing this for decades.”
“Where are we exactly?”, the rockstar asked as you three continued to walked down the hallway. After entering another room, the smell of chlorine hit them immediately.
They hear what sounds like a button being pressed and suddenly lights within a large pool illuminate the area. 
“Oh, wow.”
Both men watch with fascination and amusement as you remove all your clothes before diving in the water. 
“Are you coming?”
After removing their own garments as well, Steve gradually slid in whereas Eddie followed your lead and jumped in making you giggle as water splashed around you.
“We used to come in here after hours and just swim…talk about the future…maybe have a beer or two.” When you laugh, they laugh with you. “This was such a highly guarded secret and hard to make it into the club to hang out here. I always felt safe here with Mya and my other friends.”
“I’ve never brought anyone here before.”
Their heads turn as their gaze shift towards you, understanding the implications behind those words. Again, you were trusting them with something special to you and opening your heart. They needed to do the same. 
“We didn’t have anything cool like this at my college. I mean obviously we had a pool but…I went to a swanky business school which was my dad’s alma mater and I fucking hated it.”, Steve chuckles. “Ed kept me entertained through those four years, taking me to concerts and movie premieres when he got more popular.”
“Pfft, yeah it took a while. I think our first song started finding steam right when he was about to graduate.”
“When did your dad give you the company?”, you ask.
“It took about a year or so to pry it from him and even then he, uh, he struggled. He did an exposé on me a month after…the journalist asked him if he had faith in my ability. He said and I quote ‘If I had another Harrington to give it to I would but he’ll do fine I’m sure.’”
“Jesus. What an asshole. You showed him though with how far that company has gone.” Swiveling your head towards Eddie, your eyes meet his soft ones. “You didn’t go to college right?”
“Lord, no ma’am. My uncle wanted me to but it all sounded expensive and useless.”, he laughed as he swam closer to wall where you two were floating around. “Believe or not my dad went to college and he still ended up in jail. I just wanted to play my guitar.”
“I love the way you play. Even before I met you.”, you smile his way. “What was your mom like?”
“She, uh, she was kind and loved music. She was unbelievably funny, always making jokes that made me laugh.”, he grinned back at you. “To this day I still don’t understand why she fell for my dad. Probably why I’m terrified of becoming him.”
“You don’t have it in you…neither do you, Steve. With all the stories you’ve told me, you’re nothing like them. I think that’s why you both fell for Gina…because you think you’re capable of it. You attract what you fear sometimes… And just like with her and your fathers, I will kick your ass if you continue to think so negatively about yourselves!”
They chuckle as Steve grabs you and pulls you till your legs are around his waist. You sigh pleasantly as he kisses your forehead before you rest it against his own. 
“She asked to meet with me, your ex.”
His eyes shifted into that protective mode as the mogul blinked and cupped your face in his hands. 
“Stay away from her, Y/N, ok? Unless one of us is with you.”
“I’m not afraid of her—”
“This isn’t about fear, honey. She can do a lot more that physically harm you.”
“So, you can confront my ex but I can’t with yours?”
“You were with us!”, he growled before Eddie patted his forearm, signaling for him to let you go. 
“Do you want to meet with her?”, the rockstar inquired calmly.
As you tilt back against the mogul’s grasp, you shook your head. 
“I know she won’t tell me the truth. I just thought you two should know that she reached out to me personally. I haven’t looked at my phone since that thing I posted so I don’t know if she’s tried again.”
“Ok. Ok, sweetheart. If you change your mind, just let us know. We would prefer to be with you if that’s alright. We wouldn’t need to be in the same room just within the vicinity at least.”
Oh, vicinity.”, you tease trying to lighten the mood again. “Officer Munson kind of has a ring to it.”
“Pfft. Yeah it does. The way I would utilize those handcuffs.”, he groans as he grabs your waist and maneuvers you till your back is against the wall with your arms circled around his neck. 
“Like you don’t have some already.”, you grin. “I’ve, um, never made love in a pool before.”
Eddie blinks as his head playfully ticks to the side. 
“Didn’t we fuck you in a jacuzzi?”
“Oh my god, that does not count. It’s not a pool!”
“It’s an area filled with water.”
“Oh, oh, ok Steve. I’d like to see you swim laps in a jacuzzi!” As you giggle almost uncontrollably, you pull the rockstar into your embrace and hug him tightly to you. When your laughter subsides, your fingers thread through his hair as you feel his nose graze your neck. “I love you, Eddie.”, you whisper, softly smiling when he tilts back to pet your head. 
“I love you to, sweetheart. Fuck, I’m never going to get tired of hearing you say that.”, he exhales almost breathlessly before his lips kiss yours. As you reach between your bodies, his eyes close as his head dips back as you gradually run your palm along his cock. 
“You wanna see something?”, Steve murmurs, kissing your cheek when you nod your head. Tugging you lightly away from the wall, the mogul adjusts you so you’re floating on your back with his hand cradling the back of your neck. “I got you, honey. Daddy’s right here.”
Water lightly moves beneath you before you suddenly feel your legs resting on Eddie’s shoulders with his cheeks graze your thighs. His warm breath is an interesting contrast to the slightly cold water you three are floating in and you can’t help but moan as your pussy clenches around nothing. Steve’s mouth attaches to your neck as the rockstar’s tongue flicks against your clit making your eyes roll shut. 
“F-Fuck, that feels so good.”
“I think this is the closest I’ve gotten to you riding my face, princess. That was one of the—God, you smell amazing—first things we talked about, remember?”, Eddie asked in a husky voice as his nose continued to prod at your little bundle of nerves. 
“Yes, Daddy. I remember.” The mogul’s large palm reached over to massage your breast as the tips of his fingers ran along your nipple. “Please… I want to cum.”
“And we just want to play with you, baby.”, Steve smiles as your mouth falls open and Eddie begins devouring your cunt, his hands digging into your hips to hold you against him. “Maybe when we get back home, we can utilize those restraints and just keep you in our bed all day. Can you imagine that? Just…tune out the outside world for 24hrs…and keep you with us for one day to play with.”
As he spoke, his lips trailed kisses down your skin till his tongue found the erect bud on your tit causing a loud moan to leave your mouth as he lightly pulled it with his teeth before swirling his tongue along the sensitive area.
“To play with you whenever we wanted and really get to know your body.”
“I-If…you don’t know…my body by now…I’m worried.”, you breathily laugh, feeling them both smile against your flesh. 
Eddie’s tongue rapidly licked in and out of your core as your fingers roughly clung to Steve’s hair and your back arched. 
“Oh, we know your body, honey, but we want to learn and discover more of you in ways no one else ever has. Things you didn’t even know about yourself.”
Your legs around the rockstars neck trembled as you came. 
Pushing your limbs down and around his waist, Eddie pulled you up till your arms were around his neck and floated with you back towards the edge of the pool. 
“Can I have you both?”
“Yeah, yeah, baby. Let me just…” Keeping a strong hand on your back, he swims with you to stairs nearby and sits high enough so the top of his chest is visible above water. “Your knees aren’t scrapping the asphalt of the steps or anything right?”
“No, Daddy.”, you pant as you kiss his lips and lower yourself onto his length. 
Subtly rocking your hips, you allow your body to get comfortable as you wait for the palm that places itself on your shoulder. 
“Ready, honey?”
“Yes, Daddy. I love you, Steve.”
With a soft smile, his fingers lightly grip your chin to tilt your head and deliver you a tender kiss.
“I love you to, Y/N.” His gorgeous eyes remained locked on yours as he carefully began guiding himself into your ass. “Mmph—no, no, no, baby. Keep those beautiful eyes open for Daddy.”
It was so hard to follow his command as they both slowly started thrusting into you but desperately did everything you could to follow through. You loved watching their faces every time they took care of you. In a sexual realm, their faces would scrunch differently in ways you found utterly fascinating. Steve’s perfect head of hair would fall along his forehead or frame his face as his eyes would roam your body. It was almost calculated which would make sense with the business minded man he was. He would physically take in any little movement, jiggle, or moan and store it in his memory to utilize whatever he did to please you again in the future. As he got closer to his release his jaw would tighten and his eyes would close as he fully succumbed to the feeling of you with grunts and an eagerness that drove you crazy. 
Eddie was all feeling and passion in more ways than one. His hands and lips always wanted to be on you especially when he was inside you. He wanted his senses to be absorbed in everything in the moment. He wanted to see you fall apart, hear you scream his name or title, touch your sweat tripping skin, taste your lips, and feel you shudder around him as you came undone. Sometimes he wanted those things so bad that his brain would almost shut off and he would lose all self-control as he pounded into you not caring if the bed banging against the wall was too loud or both your moans mixed together could wake people in their building. 
When they were taking care of you out in the world, it was more or less the same. Steve would take note of the surroundings to make sure you three were safe anywhere you went. His eyes would follow you when they took you shopping and made mental notes of every item you mentioned or even touched as you absently grazed it with your fingers. You figured out pretty quickly that he learned all your tells for when you were hiding things especially to make them feel more comfortable. 
 “You don’t like this, do you?”, Steve asked while you three were watching tv one Saturday. 
“No! I like this show a lot.”, you defended making him smile at your incessance. 
“Uh huh. You’re doing that thing you do with your hair when you’re zoning out.”
Narrowing your eyes his way, you can’t help but giggle as you sigh. 
“I like the show…I just don’t like the host. He comes off like a huge asshole being mean to these contestants who probably worked really hard to be here.”
“Why didn’t you just say that, baby. We can watch something else and he IS an asshole by the way.”, he jokes.
“You watch stuff you don’t like to make me happy.”, you pout. 
“Says who? Everything you’ve shown us we love.”
“Like RuPaul’s Drag Race.”, Eddie added making you laugh as he started singing the theme. 
Eddie wanted to experience everything with you and did everything he could to keep a smile painted on your lips. Whether it was something small like a joke or a grand gesture like taking you to a concert where he danced and jumped around with you by his side, he savored it. With every hug, kiss, cuddle, or a gentle pet to your head, he felt like he was in heaven and would do anything to make you happy. 
“Hey, um, I’m working on this song and I was wondering if you could tell me what you think.”
“Ok.”, you beam as you take a seat in front of him on the floor near his windows. 
As he softly strummed his fingers along the guitar and his voice filled your ears, you realized the song he was playing was about you. When his eyes met your teary ones, he chuckled as he reached out to caress your cheek. 
“It’s beautiful, Eddie. I don’t know what to say.”
“It’s not finished but—”
“But it’s perfect already. Thank you so much.”, you coo as you tackle him and he laughs harder, falling onto his back with you in his arms. 
Eddie’s open mouth kisses against your chest had you mewling as you leaned your cheek on top of his head and your hands clung to the bottom of his neck. Little waves around you seemed to sway you forward and back into them as the pumped their hips a bit faster against you. 
Reaching around, you pressed your palm to the back of Steve’s head, holding him to your shoulder as he warmed your skin with his grunts of pleasure. Trembling between them, you whimpered their title as you came, loosely holding on to them as they chased their highs.
“Jesus fuck—“, Eddie whined with a strain in his voice before wrapping his arms tightly around you as he filled you up. Steve followed shortly after suffocating his moans into your neck as his fingers dug into your biceps. 
No one moved and you were fine with that as you held them to you. Tender kisses and soft murmurs of love gave you a comfort you never wanted to lose again as you silently prayed they would continue to keep their promise to you that what happened before would never happen again. 
“Do they have showers? Definitely not a good idea for you to go out in the cold with cold, damp hair.”
“Aw, thank you, mom.”, you tease causing Steve to playfully bite you as you laugh. “Yeah, they’re in the side there.”
###############
Your mom smiles at you from across the table as you sip your coffee and stare past her into your memories of the day before with a little smirk on your lips. 
“I know that look.”, she murmurs getting your attention. “When your father took me out on our first date, I couldn’t stop smiling when I got home. Your grandma noticed and said ‘Yup. That’s the boy she’s gonna marry!’” You both laugh till it tapers off and she meets your eyes with a softness you know all too well. “You can’t marry them, honey. You know that right?”
You slowly nod.
“But you would if you could? Reputation be damned.”
After thinking for only a moment, you nod again. 
“Things with that bitch Gina Frost are probably about to make things harder. Add in their fans, her fans, and the world who ALWAYS has to have an opinion.”, she rolls her eyes. “Are you ready for all that.”
Biting your lip to stop the small quiver as your eyes become watery, you honestly shake your head causing your mother to nod. 
“But to you their worth it and you trust them to be there for you every step of the way.”, she responds matter of factly as if she already knows the answer. 
You firmly nod your head. 
“I already warned them that I won’t do…this…again but I trust them when they say they’ll never put me in that position again. I love them, mom.”
“Yeah… It’s disgusting isn’t it? Love.” 
“Oh, absolutely. Just fucking gross.”, you giggle as she laughs with you and grabs your hand. 
“What’s gross?”, your father asks as he comes in from smoking and takes a seat by your mother. 
“You are, dear.”
“Mhmm. I love you to.”, he beams as he leans forward to kiss her lips. “Now where are those pretty boys of yours. Breakfast is getting cold. EDWARD AND STEVEN! I DON’T KNOW HOW THEY DO IT IN YOUR MANSION IN NEW YORK BUT HERE WE EAT BREAKFAST AT 8:30AM!”
“I was trying to let them sleep in, dad.”
“Mhmm, no special treatment here. They want to be a part of the family then this is how we do things.”, he scoffed making you smile at his gruffness.
He liked them. 
Eddie appeared first with Steve gently pushing his back to guide him into the room and into a chair. The mogul leaned over and tenderly kissed your cheek before taking a seat on your other side, immediately placing his arm around the back so his fingers could casually run through your slightly messy, bed head hair. 
As you threw one of your legs over the rockstar’s, his eyes cracked open meeting your glowing ones as you tried to hide your laughter in your coffee cup. Lightly pinching your cheeks, he pulled your lips to his before leaving his palm on your knee where he would occasionally rub your skin through throughout breakfast as he slowly woke up. 
###########
@aol19 @paradisepoisons  @paleidiot @dashingdeb16
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luigilore · 4 months ago
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Hello! Sorry if you’ve already answered a few asks about this but. Can you elaborate more about Luigi being a supportive husband during pregnancy and labor sorry I can’t stop thinking about it with him talking about the Lorax and his future kids
hi!! noo omg ur totally good i literally love talking abt this stuff <3
he would be overall super pragmatic like does so much research, is a lot of this drive by nerves yes but it's productive sooo, he would be at every single appointment and would take handwritten notes and come with written down questions he or you have had since your last visit, he keeps a list ARGHH.... also he would very much advocate for you in any medical environment from the regular prenatal appointments to when you're actually in labor
like it’s nice to have a luigi by ur side tbh; ofc carries ultrasound pics in his wallet now, would be very sweet and thoroughly tender with you when you have morning sickness, would take parenting/birthing classes with you, would be a bit :0 thrown by hormone changes and mood swings (and self projection here but perhaps heightened anxiety) but he's extremely empathic and understanding like truly sincerely does such an amazing job of biting his tongue and letting stuff go lol
i fear luigi might get insanely overprotective bordering on overbearing like you eventually snap at him that you don't need help going down the stairs (even if maybe you kind of do?) if u had to be on bedrest towards the end, you'd hate it sooo much and he'd be so fucking strict omggg... running it like the navy 😫 but it's all out of love and an extreme amount of duty but still... the navy
he'd do a lot of research i think that at times luigi could get random bouts of feeling extremely overwhelmed; its daunting and he's so excited... but it's a bit daunting too and researching is what makes him feel more prepared; research on literally every aspect of pregnancy and babies in general, is always sending you articles and books are being delivered daily. would have a really official systematic process for deciding on a name. seems like a lot of lists would be crafted.... maybe even some spreadsheets
omg when ur in labor he def would be a bit nervous, a bit on edge, and very emotional... his anxiety might rub off on u at one point and you banish him to lap around the hospital floor and go get you ice chips bc him just staring at the monitors and vitals was freaking u out... but ultimately would be soooo sweet, would feel bad complaining/really doing anything but focusing on you and you have to force him to nap for a bit.... would be a bit in shock in the best way when ur baby is born like def crying, keeps repeating how surreal it is, and also SOO proud of u and ur baby :')
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aayakashii · 8 months ago
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Wait, since we were robbed of having an episode about Samhain and seeing them in a festival, let's indulge in headcanonery (?) rn
Inspired by @rottenzombrainz 's slice of life headcanons, I'm giving a huge kiss to your brain rn
What each house would prepare for a school festival – headcanons
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Frostheim
Hhhmm, maybe they'd be responsible for the play! Frostheimers are the ones that are super cultured and fancy since they're all rich lol I think they'd have all the resources needed to buy beautiful costumes and props. Maybe they'd do some Shakespeare play like Hamlet, but I wouldn't put it past them to do a musical too, like The Phantom of the Opera, complete with a huge chandelier falling down :0
Vagastrom
They would be the ones responsible for the games!! All of those festival games like card flipping (menko), shooting, throwing, ball scooping, fishing yoyo, garapon (lottery machine) and other puzzles. I think Vagastrom students would have a lot of fun challenging festival-goers even if it's not a physical challenge lol. The whole place would be filled with the sounds of people having fun! Btw, Sho would probably open a little booth with snacks ofc hehe
Jabberwock
A safari exhibition, obviously. What better moment to sell tickets for a tour around the dorm than during a festival? I'm pretty sure they would go all out, though. Maybe the tour could be done at night (if the anomalies agree lol) and everything could be lit by fairylights. The caves would have ambient music, there would be wind chimes everywhere, and bubbles would be flying around to reflect the lights (courtesy of Towa). It'd be like a true fantasy experience for anyone who decided to participate!
Sinostra
They would run a cafe for sure. Romeo would NOT pass up on the opportunity to make some money. Also, it's not like Sinostra would care that much about the festival, so it'd be best to participate by doing something they're already used to. Since a lot of people would flock to Darkwick due to the festival, including kids, they wouldn't be able to sell booze nor anything of the sort, but they'd have great food, including a little bit of Italian cuisine – pizza, carbonara, lasagne, candied fruits, gelato, torrone, espresso... people would leave with the belly full and wallets empty.
Hotarubi
They would do plenty of presentations!! Odori, taiko, koto, shamisen – everything that's related to japanese traditional culture, they'd give a huuuuge show. A lot of people would flock to Hotarubi to watch Subaru give a little snippet of his abilities as a kabuki actor too, and it'd probably be one of the most visited dorms in the whole campus! I think they'd also give a few mini workshops of tea ceremony, ikebana, puppet theatre, and origami.
Obscuary
A huge, beautiful and extremely creepy haunted mansion/labyrinth!! Obscuary is literally the perfect place for a haunted attraction. The Victorian-esque visuals of the dorm would attract a lot of people who want to test their courage, especially with all the rumors about a real werewolf and a real vampire living in that place. The mansion would be eerily silent, just the sound of creaking wood and the whoosh of "ghosts" flying around to have people on their toes, so the jumpscares would be even more efficient.
Mortkranken
They would 1000000% do an interactive medical exhibition. The students could guide the visitors throughout a day in the life of a scientist/doctor! Showing them which instruments they use for surgery (even teaching how to suture wounds); which meds are useful for certain diseases; how to measure blood pressure and auscultate heart and lung sounds and so on and so forth... a little LARPing as a doctor for an afternoon hehe
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