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chlorinecake · 7 months ago

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— GYM BROS | 20th birthday special for @wonbinisbabygurl

⚡︎ PAIRINGS : fitness trainer!chaemin x gym rat!sungchan x subby!wonbin x desperate fem!reader

⚡︎ PLOT : in search for a hot body to match your plans for a hot girl summer, you seek out the council of your city’s most famous fitness trainer, Lee Chaemin… however, you never would’ve guessed that his intentions to get you in shape would turn out to be a team effort…

⚡ ︎WARNINGS : BIG DICK AGENDA, foursome, sungchan's kind of a perv in this, wonbin’s on the subby side, and chaemin's somewhat mean!dom coded, kissing, breath play, spanking/marking, dry humping, finger sucking, praise & degrading kink, oral (m. r) & fingering (f. r.), cum eating & breeding kink, ft. aespa’s ningning

⚡︎ WORD COUNT : 5.8k | co-written w/ the lovely @squoxle !

THERE HAD BEEN a time in your life where guys often threw themselves at you, gracing you with compliment after compliment in hopes that you’d spare them a prolonged glance… or perhaps, even a chance at hooking up with you somehow…

But then, your high school graduation happened, and coming up promptly on the adulthood menu, college applications and job searching.

Academia was simply something you weren’t interested in at the moment, so you took the work route, being employed at a 9-5 desk job until you got sick of that and terminated your contract before the summer.

Now, introducing your best friend Ningning Yizhou, someone you’ve known since high school yet only recently reconnected with within that past six months.

Your bond flourished as if time and personal journeys had never even separated you two, which is precisely why you found yourself where you were today:

Enjoying a sunny afternoon while walking arm-in-arm beside her, exploring the side shops of an outdoor strip mall from a distance…

The sunlight casted long shadows of the surrounding trees across the worn asphalt pathways trailing from the boutiques, the air meddling with scents of freshly cut grass, expensive perfumes, and tasty treats from the nearby food stands.

Back to Ningning though, the poor girl just wouldn’t stop raving about this new workout program she found online, excitedly informing you on all the details about this celebrity status fitness trainer who co-owned the company.

A strand of her long black hair danced in the wind as you both continued to stroll the area, her dainty sunglasses framing her round face as she nudged your shoulder slightly.

“Girl, you gotta try this with me,” she protested in between taking a sip of the fruit smoothie she held in her free grasp.

“Oh, come on ____,” Ningning whined this time, “how are we supposed to have a hot girl summer if we’re not looking like hot girls?!… The math is basic, to be honest…”

You let a soft sigh escape your lips as your gaze fell down towards the hoodie you wore, its fabric feeling heavier than usual, acting as a direct testament to your own lacking commitment to fitness.

“I’m just not too comfortable with the idea of wasting my money on some poor excuse for a fitness trainer,” you sulked, the sweet and icy nectar of your berry blast smoothie providing you with an extra layer of comfort beneath the blazing afternoon heat.

It had been far too long since you’d laced up your sneakers to exercise, your body looking a little too soft for your liking especially on top of the sedentary job you worked for months.

“Well, the lady who runs the program says that her trainers are licensed professionals,” Ningning continued passionately, despite the uninterested look on your face.

“Uh huh,” you nodded plainly, “and by that, you mean she hires people who wasted their money getting a license to help people do push ups, right?”

“Look, if we sign up now, we can get our first month free,” she stated, halting the pace of her steps to turn and face you directly this time, “so do you wanna do this with me or not?…”

The pressure was starting to kick in now, and although you had been trying to keep up your stubborn act for as long as you could, all of Ningning’s talk about sculpted abs, toned legs, and the perfect bubble butt was enough to spark even the smallest flicker of appeal within you.

It was a simple fact, really… like most women, you wanted to get in the best shape of your life this summer, possibly granting you a much needed injection of excitement into your otherwise mundane single life.

“Fine, I’ll join the stupid program,” you rolled your eyes sarcastically, a bright smile creeping across Ningning’s lips as she cheered for joy, exposing her cute round teeth.

“Yes! Hot girl summer, here we come!”

You let yourself giggle at your friends enthusiasm, her energetic aura always having a way of radiating onto you anyways…

And yes, you still felt a bit hesitant about venturing back into the gym after such a long hiatus, but with a little push, a little sweat, and a little confidence, you were ready to accept that maybe this whole workout thing was exactly what you both needed…

AFTER AGREEING TO enroll into the program, you decided to do a little research on your own back at home, and from what you could tell, the website looked fairly promising.

“Once I joined, I just couldn’t stop coming,” one review read, another following comment stating that they couldn’t remember the last time their bodies looked 'this great.'

And strangely enough, you found yourself convinced from that alone, jotting in your name, age, and other necessary credentials on the website's "SIGN UP" front page.

Wrapping a hoodie around your waist, you slipped into your fitness shoes, tossing your gym bag over your shoulder and making your way to your first fitness class.

Initially, you were under the impression that your trainer would be another girl by default, so you didn’t put too much effort into your appearance.

To be honest, your outfit was giving more of a “I just fell out of bed on a lazy sunday and decided to go for a jog” look rather than “Oh my God, this is my first workout class and I wanna make a good impression!”

Not like you cared all that stuff anyways, though... you were here to work up a sweat and get your dream body, not win a fashion competition.

Sprinkling a peach flavored electrolyte pack into your 40 ounce water bottle, you gave it a few shakes in your hand, watching closely as the powder dissolved before taking a sip and walking into the daunting building ahead of you—

“Alrighty, it looks like you’re all set, Miss ____. Your personal trainer will be waiting for you in the Private Training Room, code number 210B,” the older lady at the front desk smiled, straightening out the consumer information sheet you had just filled out and sliding it into the file drawer beside her.

“Ok, cool! And I'm sorry, but where do I go from here?”

“Just take that elevator to the second floor, hun. From there, you're gonna need to take a right, and room 10 should be right there!”

“Ok, thanks,” you nodded in a friendly voice before walking off, deciding within yourself that you'd take the stairwell instead of the elevator given the long line of people waiting there.

That's when the sound of humming treadmills, heavy metal clinks, and a mix of strained grunts hit your ears as you navigated around the second floor, taking a right turn just as the receptionist advised.

And there it was... Room 210B in all of its mysterious glory.

Your eyes wandered down to the soft natural light peeking from beneath the door, the handle twisting with a gentle creak as you walked in.

“Hi! You must be ____,” a deep male voice immediately greeted you. “I’ll be your fitness instructor and personal body trainer for the entirety of this program,” the man went on with a smile, extending his hand to shake yours, “My name is Lee Chaemin, but you can just call me Chae or Coach.”

What the actual fuck, you thought to yourself, struggling to properly return the handshake given the way your eyes ogled at him now.

He was criminally attractive, and you doubted wholeheartedly that you'd be able to function efficiently in his presence, let alone under his piercing gaze—

“V-very nice to meet you,” you somehow managed to choke out, making him quirk a brow at your flustered demeanor before going on to outline the criteria of your workout plan.

But your inner thoughts... God, they had gotten so loud that you could hardly even process a single word that escaped his lips, imagining within yourself how nice his hands would feel while wrapped around your neck...

At this point, you had completely missed the part where you were supposed to answer his question.

“Huh? I mean uh- Sorry, what did you say?”

“I asked if you had any particular body goals in mind?” He repeated with a faint chuckle, eyes flattening out into pretty crescents as he tilted his head at you.

Shit, his smile is absolutely perfect—

“Hmm... I mainly just wanna tone up and lose some body fat, y’know?”

“Yea, of course... in that case, we’ll start you out with some basics so I can get an idea of your current strength... then, we can work our way up from there,” he said, just as he made his way over to the wall and grabbed two yoga mats.

“I’ll demonstrate the poses and you can just cop me. Don’t worry if it feels a little awkward at first, I’ll guide you into position if you need,” he smiled again, laying down the mats for you two.

You joined him on the ground now, eyes following the movements of his body as twisted into various different stretches before finally coming to one that nearly knocked you off your feet.

“Oh, hold on! I gotchya,” he huffed, grabbing hold of your waist as you bent over with your legs spread apart. Even though you knew he wasn’t doing anything intentionally, you couldn’t help but internally melt at the feeling of him standing behind you like this...

Eventually though, your stretching period was finished, following up with a few simple pilate-like exercises and a mile run on the treadmill right after.

Fairly easy enough for my first day, you thought to yourself again, noting that if there was anything you learned today, it was that this Chae guy or whatever the hell he wanted you to call him, was sickeningly sexy, or in other words, just the extra vessel of visual motivation you needed to keep going on this journey...

BY THE END of the first week, you had changed up your wardrobe completely, not wanting any extra fabric to get in the way of you copping a feel here and there.

Besides, wearing a tight pair of yoga leggings with a mini crop top was much better suited for your hot girl aesthetic versus your usual hoodie and baggy gym pants.

As expected though, the next few classes became progressively more challenging... similarly to the rock hard bulge resting behind Chaemin's pants.

You were already seeing some promising results, too, despite how it had only been a few weeks since you first started... Ningning was in a more dance-focused class than yours, but her results were just as amazing, making this little hot girl duo between you two really worth the effort.

Unfortunately though, your free trial was coming to an end soon, so with the last few hours you got to spend with Chaemin every week, you hoped there'd be a chance for you to get a little something more out of him.

“See ya after class, babes,” Ningning waved with her typically warm and optimistic energy, making you flash her an equally friendly smile as you waved her off in the same manner, walking off into Private Training Room.

“Today’s gonna be a little different,” your trainer started to speak as soon as you opened the door.

“Different how?” You asked, sliding your gym bag from over your shoulder and placing it on the carrier shelves beside you.

“Well,” he continued in between clearing his throat, “one of my friend’s will be joining us in the room today, if you don't mind... He’s a personal trainer, too.”

Your eyes widened slightly as his words as a neutral pout overcame your features. “Oh, well yea, I don't have a problem with that,” you reassured him, making Chaemin flash you a thankful smile as you got started on laying down the yoga mats, just as Chaemin reached in his gym shorts pocket to pull out his phone.

“Perfect... I'll get started with you in a bit, though... I'm just texting him to verify how much longer it's gonna be before he gets here–”

“Hope I didn't keep you waiting too long,” a new voice called out from beside you as the room door slung open, the sound of layered footsteps hitting your ears as the newcomer invited himself into the space, cutting Chaemin off mid-sentence.

“Oh- Hey, Chan! I was just about to text you,” Chaemin let himself chuckle slightly before dapping up his friend.

“____, this is Sungchan, the trainer I was telling you about earlier...”

“Nice to meet you, ____,” Sungchan nodded with a gentle smile, a feeling of butterflies rushing through your lower stomach aa you found yourself having to look up to meet his face.

That's when the source of the second pair of footsteps became clear to you, just as a slightly shorter but equally as attractive guy joined the space.

“Wonbin,” the third boy introduced himself plainly, voice a bit feathery as he nervously shook your hand.

“Don’t worry. We shouldn’t bother y’all too much. Me and Won are gonna be training over here, but if you need anything just let me know, okay?” Sungchan went on, looking directly into your eyes, practically knocking you off your feet.

“Cool! Me and ____ are gonna get started over here, then,” Chaemin clapped as you started your first round of cardio, which today turned out to be a 10 minute jump roping circuit to help warm you up.

Chaemin kept track of the time as usual in between barking out a few words of encouragement, even though you could definitely tell another set of eyes were on you...

Glancing in one of the mirrors, you caught onto to the way Sungchan shamelessly stared at your body as you jumped up and down, a small smirk staining his features as the sheen of sweat decorated you slightly exposed chest now.

He was supposed to be spotting Wonbin at the bench press, but he just couldn’t take his eyes off of you for the life of him, almost in disbelief at the way you clearly started to put on a little show for him, letting your breath come out in high-pitched pants as you continued jumping.

“Nice work, ____,” Chaemin exclaimed as your timer went off, right before he suggested that you work on a bit of strength training for the next 30 minutes.

“I think I need a little more time to calm down before I hit the weights, Coach,” you huffed out tiredly, explaining to him that it'd be better if you just worked on something a little less strenuous for the time being...

Glutes.

Of course, Chaemin wasn't going to make you overwork yourself, especially since you claimed to be feeling a bit more spent than usual...

By now, you had fully memorized the glute routine he made you do twice every week, including a rep of squat variations, lunges, bridge lifts, and fire hydrants.

Chaemin usually stood behind you whenever you did squats, guiding your waist with the lightest touch he could to make sure your form was on point.

This time though, you noticed that he wasn't even within three-feet of your presence, having his backed turned to you as you pushed out your first set of sumo squats, watching him walk even further away in the mirror ahead of you.

“Hey, where're you headed?” You asked through slightly labored breaths, still counting in the back of your mind how many squats you had done so far...

“Oh, I just gotta take care of something really quick... Sungchan'll be here if you need him for anything.”

“Alright then,” you nodded, feeling that familiar burning sensation course through your hips, “take your time!”

“Thanks,” he replied, walking over to where Sungchan stood near Wonbin and exchanging a few words with him that you couldn't make out through all of Wonbin's grunting, leaving to room shortly after.

Twenty-eight... twenty-nine... thirty, you lazily counted out each squat in your head, letting yourself take a few conscious breaths just as Sungchan made his way over to you now.

“Looks like it’s gonna be just you and me then, huh?” he began with a smirk, scanning your body with his eyes.

“Well... not exactly,” you returned quietly, peeking over his shoulder to find Wonbin adjusting a pair of headphones over his head.

“He's not one to bother people, trust me... It’ll be like he’s not even here,” Sungchan reassured you, just as he ran a hand through his shaggy hair and walked closer towards you, “Now... I say we freestyle a bit and try out a few exercises you've probably never done before, yeah?”

The word 'intrigued' didn’t even begin to describe the way you felt right now... the look on his face was so mysterious yet so telling at the same time... you could hardly make any sense of his behavior, but you had a pretty good feeling his mind was on the same thing as your own wandering one:

A quick fuck sometime with no strings-attached.

His heads rested at your shoulders now as he positioned himself behind you. “Let’s start with a stretch first since you just finished a pretty intense cardio set,” he suggested with a slight rasp to his voice, a familiar and alluring feeling washing over you as he spread your legs apart with a strong hand.

“This will help stretch out your hip flexors,” he continued, keeping his touch secured around your inner thighs. “Just get down as low as you can for me, 'kay? You can stop if anything starts to hurt...”

You couldn't help but blush a bit at his choice of words, following his instructions carefully as you squatted down as far as you could, poking your hips out a bit before coming back up to a standing position.

“So,” his still voice sounded from behind you, “you enjoying this little program so far?”

“Yeah, actually... I had low expectations in the beginning, but it's turning out to be a really good thing for me,” you answered while peddling your feet, hands glued to the floor.

“Oh, cool! That's always good to hear... What do you think about Chaemin, though?”

“What about him?” You returned with a bit of confusion to your tone.

“Well... I'm just curious to know if he’s been a little… touchy with you,” Sungchan hummed as you laid on your back, forcing your legs apart gently with his hands as your breath hitched slightly.

“I uh…well... not really,” you exhaled through your nose, feeling the sudden pull in your muscles.

“Oh?... I would’ve expected something different from him,” Sungchan shrugged while pushing his weight into your thighs even more... the position was already a bit erotic in itself, but it really didnt help now that his bulge had grazed up against the growing wetness behind your yoga pants, making your stomach tighten with need.

And it was written all over his adorably mischievous face, too... how much he enjoyed stretching you out passed your limits—

“Ngh!” You winced through furrowed brows, slightly turning your head to the side with your hands framing your head on the yoga mat.

He chuckled softly, letting his eyes wander from the sight of your puffy pussy poking through your leggings before making eye contact with you suddenly. “Sorry about that... Let’s work on a different position...”

You shook the tightness out of your legs before standing to your feet, letting Sungchan guide your body into a downward dog position, leaving your ass high up in the air and your legs spread wide open to the point where almost nothing was left to the imagination now...

You're not sure why, but every single thing this guy said or did in this moment was turning you on... from his voice, his body, and even to his scent, Sungchan had you fully enthralled by him in just a matter of minutes—

“So,” he started again, “how long have you been training with Chae for?”

“Just a few weeks,” you huffed back, voice a bit tight given the stretch you felt in your spine.

“Really? That’s impressive,” Sungchan exclaimed from behind you, eyes obviously falling to the view of your cleavage in the mirror ahead before flickering back up, “your physique already looks so amazing, ____.”

“Please,” you scoffed, a warm feeling erupting in your stomach given how close he was to you, “but I appreciate the compliment, Channie… your friend Chaemin’s a pretty good coach, y'know…”

“Yea, that might be true, but,” Sungchan’s voice trailed off in the same manner that his hands trailed from your thighs, applying pressure to your lower back as he forced you abdomen closer to the ground, “he can be a little mean with his clients, if you ask me…”

In all honesty, you didn't fully understand why Sungchan kept bringing up Chaemin, but you couldn't say you disagreed with his opinions about him...

Chaemin did have his moments where he was a little tough on you, but the horny slut inside you didn't mind his dominance, anyways...

“Agreed,” you sighed, letting your muscles relax into the position, “but if he’s so mean and what not... what does that make you?”

“A well-balanced personal trainer,” Sungchan replied with pride almost instantly, “considering that Chae often forgets to include the ‘personal’ aspect when it comes to fitness… he’s more—”

“Physical... like you said,” you budded in for him, making Sungchan chuckle, “and you’re personal… gotchya…”

“But what’s your preference?” He asked, voice falling a little closer to your ear as he forced his palm into your back even further, the curve of your ass sitting right at his front.

You knew there was more to Sungchan's question than what met the surface…

Briefly reasoning within yourself, you moved from the stretching position, turning to face Sungchan as you leaned towards him.

“I suppose I’m open to both,” you whispered seductively, resting your hand just inches away from the mound between his legs.

His breath got caught in his chest now as your hand started to tread even closer to his center, moving upwards until you suddenly stopped, looking back into his eyes. “Think you can meet both those needs for me… Channie?” You went on in a voice soft as silk yet as seductive as a siren, batting your eyelashes at him as he licked his lips slightly.

“How about this... I’ll offer you a free trial before we make anything official,” Sungchan whispered, trying to keep his lingo as indirectly suggestive as possible, “but it’s only a limited time offer…”

His voice faded away, just as the eye contact he held with you wandered off to the wall bench just a few feet from you both on the stretching mat.

And before you could even turn to meet his face again, he was already standing up, flashing you a knowing expression as he walked to the bench, taking a seat and shamelessly manspreading right before your eyes.

He reached for his water bottle sitting on the ground, raising the liquid to his lips and taking a few gulps, your eyes watching the line of veins trailing up his sculpted neck and shoulders as you simply accepted that fact that you couldn’t hold yourself back anymore…

Not while this horny, of course...

Besides, if there’s anything a hot girl did best it was hot girl shit, annd you’d be a fool to let Sungchan sit there and do nothing about the boner obviously growing behind his gym pants.

Limited time offer, huh? You thought to yourself before standing up from the mat, zipping down your workout top a bit to let your tits breathe.

Well it’s a good day to be impatient…

You climbed onto Sungchan's lap, wrapping your thighs around him as you felt him pressing into your core, a feeling that excited you more than you cared to admit.

"Oh so we're doing this now?" The tall boy asked, smiling as you got comfortable on top of him.

"As if this wasn't the goal since you set your eyes on me," you smirked, leaning in to kiss his plump lips.

Sungchan hummed within the contact, letting his eyes flutter shut before speaking...

"You just look so fucking hot in these yoga pants," he mumbled with your lower lip snug between his teeth before lightly pulling away "can’t wait to get ‘em off you..." he continued raspily, gripping at your hips before kneeding the flesh there in his hands.

In the midst of all this, Wonbin was completely oblivious to what you and Chan were up to, too focused on pushing out his final reps of bench presses, silver headphones secured tightly around his sweat-drenched mane as a certain tune blasted in his ears.

That’s when he caught onto the faint sounds bleeding beyond the audio from his headset, plain curiosity getting the best of him as he hooked the barbell back to its power rack, ending his set to get a peek at his surroundings.

He took off his headphones and sat them neatly on the equipment, giving his damp hair a slight shake before turning his head to the noise behind him, only to find a breathless you situated in Sungchan’s lap.

The eldest flashed Wonbin a look with the most shit-eating grin plastered across his deer-like features as your tongues intertwined sloppily, even though Wonbin’s attention had clearly darted toward your ass by now, both enticed by and shocked at the way you grinded against his friend’s lap so shamelessly.

You soon noticed the way Sungchan’s face wandered from yours slightly, provoking you to turn for yourself to see exactly what had caught his attention.

And there he was, an utterly flabbergasted Wonbin meeting your eyes with his own hesitant ones, an even more evident bulge resting behind his gym shorts now as blood rushed to the tip of his cock, getting harder and harder with every breath he took.

Sungchan returned his lips to your neck now, nibbling at the skin there while still keeping a grip on your tight ass, "Don't think I can wait much longer baby..." he groans against you, almost as if the taste of you alone was making him hungrier for any sort of stimuli.

"What are you waiting for then, big boy?... it's not like anyone here has a problem with us... isn't that right, Binnie?" You pressed, biting your lip while looking the reluctant boy up and down.

But Wonbin remained quiet, only giving you a shyly desperate look as his lips part slightly, making way for his tongue to run over his lips greedily.

He felt like he had never contemplated something so hard in his entire life while in this moment.

"C’mon, don’t be shy… you can join us if you like..." you continued, flashing Wonbin your signature blowjob eyes as Sungchan obviously began to appear a bit thrown off by the boldness of your offer towards his friend, making his plush lips cease from marking you for a moment despite his initial playfulness…

Still, and oddly enough, Wonbin’s nervous demeanor had a way of exciting Sungchan even more, especially with how dirty you and him were getting during what was intended to be your training period.

"Get over here, Won... she doesn't bite as much as I do..." Sungchan mustered encouragingly, even though Wonbin’s feet were already moving towards you two at the wall bench.

He sat down next to you both, watching dumbly as you suddenly stopped grinding against Sungchan’s lap.

"W-...what do I do?" He asked timidly, fidgeting with his fingers in his lap as you simply smiled back at the gorgeous men before you.

"Pull your pants down," you said bluntly, "both of you..."

And with that command, it didn't take long for Wonbin to start working with the waist tie of his shorts, pulling at the strings and sliding the fabric past his hips.

And once you climbed off of Sungchan’s lap, he proceeded to do the same, hooking his thumbs at the hem of his pants before shimmying them down like you asked.

You got on your knees between them, exchanging one more look of consent before taking their sensitive members in your hands, alternating between either stroking them or letting their dicks take turns basking in the warmth of your skilled mouth.

The sounds of their pleased grunts and hums layering over each other was more than enough to get your pussy dripping with need.

You admired the feeling of Wonbin’s long and pretty cock gliding down your throat while also savoring the girth of Sungchan’s throbbing dick as you pumped him in your fist at the same time.

The eldest of the two had his mouth hung open, head thrown back against the wall as his hips lifted into your hand, desperate for more friction than what was already being offered…

And on the other hand, Wonbin tried to keep his lip bitten firmly between his teeth as an attempt to hold in his moans, only to fail miserably once you licked around a certain spot along his shaft... his sweet spot…

"Oh, you like that baby?" You asked rhetorically, watching as his chest began to heave with each stroke of your tongue against his log of nerves, his lustful eyes wandering to the sight behind you as another person invited themselves to witness the filthy scene ahead.

It was none other than Coach Chaemin, who judging from the outside, appeared as though he practically expected this to happen… finding a horny you slutting it out with his close mates in the private training room at the first opportunity you got...

Still, he wasn't gonna let you get away that easily without first inserting himself into the fun... and I mean that quite literally, here.

Chaemin kneeled himself behind you, tugging down your yoga pants and landing a hard smack to the curve of your ass, snickering at the fact that you didn't even have panties on.

And it all happened so fast that you didn't even have a chance to react properly before his thick fingers were lodged inside you, curling against the spongy spot that never failed to make your back arch.

"F-fuckkk," you mewled erotically, turning your head back to find your trainer fucking his digits into your heat, this more openly dirty side of him finally coming out to play...

"Turn back around," he ordered, just as Sungchan already helped himself to guiding your chin back to face him, shoving your lips over his cock and hitting the back of your moist den with his tip.

His veins were even more pronounced now as intense pleasure coursed through every cell in his 6-foot-something body, gently smacking his cock through the side of your cheek to tease you.

"Shhh," he cooed facetiously as your teary eyes met his taunting ones, the mascara you put on earlier bleeding at the corner of your eyes as your grip around Wonbin's cock tightened with your growing urge to gag.

Sungchan went on, almost chuckling now as he slowly pushed your head further down his length, whispering within the mere air separating you two, "You like choking around my dick, huh pretty girl? Like it when I stuff your mouth so full with my cock that you can’t even think straight, don’t you?”

All you could do was dumbly nod around him, eventually gasping out loud once he finally released your head from his hold, giving you a moment to catch your breath.

But at this point, Wonbin was already spilling his load over your freshly manicured fingers, a reddish hue rushing to his cheeks out of embarrassment of how fast he came.

He stuttered out your name in between his hiccupy moans, Chaemin’s narrowed eyes catching sight of the sticky situation, just as he landed a wet smack against your ass again with the same hand he just fingered you with.

"Lick it up, babyface… or else my fingers are all you're getting from here..." Chaemin ordered in a deep and almost threatening tone, making you clench your pussy around nothing as he slid his hand beneath your workout top, smacking your tits as a means to encourage you.

And already being too desperate for the lost feeling of his fingers inside you, you leaned over Wonbin’s lap almost immediately, clinging to his toned thighs as you lapped at the pearly release, making his abs clench at the returned stimulation.

"So fucking hot," Sungchan mumbled, fisting himself at an aggressive pace as you kept catching Wonbin’s cum on your extended tongue, keeping eye contact with him the entire time as he groaned out his high, gently caressing the side of your face.

“You’re unreal, ____,” the long haired boy hummed, almost feeling lovesick at the way you kept licking at him.

Being so distracted in the way Wonbin gazed at you in this strangely intimate moment, you didn’t even realize that Chaemin had already slipped his shorts down, letting a bit of spit dribble from his tongue to help coat his length before sliding it into you.

The stretch genuinely caught you off guard, a shaky whimper slipping past your lips as you covered your mouth, trying to hold in your cries.

“Aww, too big for you, sweetie?” Chaemin taunted, watching the way your pussy practically struggled to take all of him, but he didn’t care, knowing that it’d only be a matter of time before you started begging for more.

“I can be gentle if you want me too… is that what you want?” He went on, landing another smack to your tits as he leaned closer to your ear, nibbling at the flesh there.

You couldn’t even attempt to get a word out once you felt his length slide further into you, amazed in your own mind that the stretch you felt earlier was only from half of his cock.

“Didn’t think so,” Chaemin smirked, his dick twitching at the tightness your hole provided before moving away from your ear, grabbing hold of your hips again as he slowly started to move inside you.

“Move your hand, angel,” Sungchan mumbled again, desperate to hear any more sounds from you to help him reach his high. “Need to come so fucking bad, baby… open your mouth for me,” he groaned, letting you take his tip in your mouth as your sealed your lips around him, only to break away suddenly as Chaemin thrusted roughly into you this time, grunting at the pleasure.

“Fuck, you’re pussy’s perfect… so tight,” he said with a rasp voice, struggling to stop himself from fucking you any faster than your tightness could take, “afraid I might split you open if I keep going, princess…”

All you could do was whine pathetically as Chaemin kept thrusting into you from behind, a burning sensation mixing with the growing pleasure from his length stretching you out.

“F-fuckk- Shit!” Sungchan groaned desperately, jerking his cock to the point where his seed ended up making a much bigger mess than intended, spurts of his cum getting everywhere but in your eyes at this point.

Your hands still rested at Wonbin and Sungchan’s thighs, and although Wonbin seemed a bit relaxed now, he was simply waiting for his next chance to get off, Sungchan slowly relieving his cock from the relentless strokes of his own hand before leaning down to kiss you, moaning at the taste of himself in your mouth mixing with your saliva.

Wonbin watched closely as his friend's tongue ran up against yours in the messy contact, the sight doing nothing but making the poor boy stiff all over again.

“Hey… wanna take a turn?” Chaemin asked Wonbin through a breathless voice, his question almost getting lost between the series of whines spilling from your mouth, Sungchan’s hand holding your face in place as he looked into your eyes, whispering dirty nothings against your lips as you took Chaemin from the back.

“Fuck, please,” you cried out for reasons you didn’t understand, face a mess of streaky makeup as you laved at Sungchan’s thumb in your mouth.

“It’s okay, baby… we’re taking good care of you, see?” Sungchan smiled, just as the feeling of fullness left your core as Chaemin slipped out, moving over for Wonbin to take his place.

“Gonna make you feel so much better,” Wonbin said from behind you, lining up his tip with your gaping entrance before fully sliding in, much easier than Chaemin did.

While Wonbin’s fucking you from the back, Chaemin swaps places with Sungchan on the wall bench, tapping your lips with his slimy cock with a smirk on his face, all before sliding himself in and fucking the daylights out of your throat.

And your eyes were practically popping outta your head at this point given how rough he was being… you couldn't help yourself but to scratch at his thighs like a helpless kitten, making Chaemin wince as you marked his honey-colored skin with thin, red lines.

Meanwhile, Wonbin was still getting busy behind you, his hips grinding against you at a slow pace, clearly contrasting between Chaemin’s more aggressive sexual nature.

And it was only a matter of time before Sungchan joined Wonbin where he was on the ground, discarding himself from his pants completely now as he held his cock in one hand and stroking over the curve of your ass with the other, utterly mesmerized by your feminine figure.

“C’mon, Wonbin, you can fuck her harder than that, huh?” Sungchan huffed sarcastically, jerking his cock once again with his fist at the sight of your hole gushing with arousal, your fluids creating the most heavenly sheen around Wonbin’s length as he took heed to his friend’s words, fucking into you faster and deeper despite how much it overstimulated him.

“Yeah… that’s it… keep fucking her just like that- mmm, fuck yeah,” Sungchan groaned, sliding his hands between your legs and letting his fingers find your heat, slapping a bit at your pussy lips before circling your throbbing clit.

You felt like you were going completely dumb now given all the sensations you were experiencing, Wonbin’s tip working wonders in your cunt as he hit all the best parts inside you, his own eyes becoming watery now as he felt himself approaching his high again, mumbling tiny words of praise from behind you.

But Chaemin… oh God, he was a complete menace in this moment, calling you his good little cum slut as he continued fucking your face full of his shaft, your jaw going slack as you cried dumbly around his veiny cock.

That’s when you felt a burst of warmth enter you from both ends, Chaemin’s seed coating the back of your throat as Wonbin collapsed over your back, stilling his thrusts as he spilled his release all over your walls, heavy grunts coming from both of them now that they’d reached their highs.

“Awww, fuck,” Sungchan moaned this time, feeling himself draw closer and closer to the point of no return as Wonbin backed away from you, knowing that Sungchan had every intention of getting to stuff your pussy with his length just like the others did.

That's when you felt Sungchan grab your waist from behind, right before pushing his dick into you.

You couldn’t help but whine as you felt him stretch you open, gasping at the feeling of his hand wrapping around your throat, still feeling a bit sore from Chae's ministrations earlier.

He shoved his tongue into your mouth, kissing you sloppily as cum and saliva dripped down the sides of your lips, trailing down your neck as he humped into you hard and fast, causing your breasts to bounce freely from the force.

And seeing this only drew Chaemin's attraction to the perky flesh of your best as he found himself sucking on one of your tits, grazing his teeth over your skin.

“Get over here, Wonnie,” Sungchan grunted, watching as his friend sat tiredly by himself... “There’s a pretty tit for you, too,” he chuckled before smacking your ass, making you yelp at the stinging sensations traveling all the way up to your face.

“She’s still not making enough noise for me,” Chaemin huffed before jamming two of his fingers into your mouth, causing your eyes to tear up even more.

“Scream for me, slut,” he grinned while he roughly stimulated your clit with his free hand, Wonbin's tongue never ceasing in sucking at your nipples, moaning at the taste.

At this point, you struggled to keep your balance, feeling your body begin to shake uncontrollably as Sungchan held your body tighter, hips still drilling into you at a relentless pace.

“Feels so fucking good inside you, baby,” Sungchan sucked through his teeth, a bit of saliva filling his mouth as the pattern of his thrusts slowed down, his hips ripping away from your heat as you fell into the two other boy's before you, your body fucked completely dumb now.

There was so much cum inside you at this point that you're sure it'd probably be leaking out of you for weeks after this...

You felt Sungchan’s dick slide out as he rested his chin on your shoulder, kissing the skin there before sighing against your neck and saying, “That was pretty fun, huh, pretty?”

You couldn’t really get a word out in this moment, and he caught onto it, talking for you instead of trying to get any words out of you…

“We should do something like this again, y’know?…I’m sure Wonbin would like it too,” he went on with a chuckle as Wonbin’s cheeks flushed red, running a bashful hand through his bangs down as he worked on fixing his shorts back.

“This’ll only last for another week before your free trial expires,” Chaemin began with a hoarse voice while keeping his eyes trained on you as he pulled up his shorts, too.

“Well, that’s only unless she doesn’t come back for more,” Sungchan pitched in, lifting his weight from your body and helping you guide your yoga pants back over your hips.

Although you are were currently unsure as to whether or not you would proceed with paying for the full program after such an unexpected encounter, you couldn't deny that being tossed around by three hot guys had your head spinning in the best way possible…

And as the four of you stood all sweaty and sticky in a circle, still trying to catch your shaky breaths as the fitness session neared its end, the idea of your average workout sessions with Chaemin seems much less appealing than the full-body workout you experienced today.

⚡︎ AUTHOR'S NOTE | My sister and I definitely got a little carried away with the plot this time, but hopefully someone out there enjoyed reading the hot mess of a story as much as we did when writing it for our dear mutual... And once again, Happy belated Birthday @wonbinisbabygurl !!! Cheers to another year of your beautiful life <3

⚡︎ TAGS | @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @nikisvanillaccola @addictedtohobi @watamotee33 @ot7sevenlvr

⚡︎ Feel free to check out my RIIZE masterlist if you’re interested in more works by me!

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corollaservant · 10 months ago

Text

Retail Therapy // Dabi x f!reader x Shigaraki (18+)

Synopsis: Working as a sales assistant in a high end sneaker shop is boring. But you're about to be taught otherwise.

Warnings: noncon/dubcon (idk about this one), degradation, humiliation, illegal recording, mentions of crimes, ableist remarks (not from reader), harassment, dumbification

A/N: kinda thought of the LoV as streamers (but not like gamers). thx anon in spam blog for encouraging this dumb idea, idk what this says about us:)

Another boring day at work. But honestly, what were you expecting?

You didn’t know anyone who had fun working in retail. Not that this would be your job forever, as you planned on quitting and you know... try something else. Dropping out of college may have not been a smart move but you were confident that you’d find your path, somewhere, sometime. The store was never busy, the pricing and interior design repelling most passers-by and only attracting a couple influencer kids (you often laughed at the term) and their rich parents or a few unknown athletes in an effort to buy designer and make a better name for themselves. High end clients never showed up in person, they had no reason to, no one shopped at boutiques anymore—all the more sneaker ones.

You would often kill time by watching stuff online (who didn’t), looking at the latest socialite news in various media outlets, the world was going downhill, you thought, as you absentmindedly sipped from your water bottle. Articles wrote about villains, social pariahs, as they’d branded them, parading power by killing innocent civilians ‘for the fun of it’.

Two shadows at the door caused you to look up. Customers? No way. Your heart stopped for a second as both walked through the door. Was this some kind of a twisted game of fate? Who didn’t fucking know them, Dabi and his subordinate, the man he had on a leash, even though he was the supposed boss, Shigaraki Tomura. What the fuck where they doing here?

The taller man, which you knew as Dabi, wore a dark blue jacket with the collars ripped while his patched purple skin stood out. Surgically attached staples (or where these piercings?) moved when he smiled. Despite the menacing appearance, you had to admit he looked quite... elegant? His shorter companion didn't fail to catch your eye either, a hood pulled low over his face and wearing a miserably plain outfit. Under other circumstances, you’d throw guys like them out the store—this wasn’t some charity but you quickly reconsidered, once you remembered their recent streaming. Shigaraki filmed Dabi burning up a whole forest just to kill some time as they laughed. Cool, yeah. Problem was they had accidentally murdered some poor people on a picnic, who they’d later find and film, joking about how ‘today was not the day for a picnic, guys’. The two villains would livestream the whole thing on various platforms, other times they’d upload it later on a channel, where perverse comments encouraged and gave them both views. They obviously had a clear immoral viewpoint on heroes (they despised the filth society had created on false pretense) and never failed to shout it even louder.

‘’Hello, sweetheart.’’ Dabi greeted you, approaching the register. His loyal dog followed close, hands in his pockets and a sly smile.

‘’Me and my...friend would like to check out a few shoes today, we’re feeling generous.’’ The friend didn't sound very friendly.

You regained composure and whispered a ‘’y-yes, sure!’’ as they looked at you. Dabi's eyes diverted to your work uniform, a blazer with exposed bust and a tight pencil skirt (yeah yeah, you knew this was a high end sneaker store but rules were rules and you had to attract the filthy rich somehow...manager's words, not yours)

‘’W-what would you guys like to see?’’ You stammered, their proximity not helping.

‘’Sweetie got a speech impediment?’’ Shigaraki asked no one in particular before Dabi interrupted.

‘’Don’t listen to this asshole, he isn’t getting any so he’s always pissed off.’’ The first scowled but remained silent.

Dabi seemed... kind? You thought as you looked at him and shyly moved to the display shelves.

‘’S–so, could you guys tell me what you’re looking for exactly?’’ You couldn’t believe these two had to come to your place for fucking shoes—somehow the thought of villains having to buy clothes had never really crossed your mind.

‘’We don’t fucking care, sweetheart.’’ Dabi said looking directly at your chest, eyeing your tits. Such a pervert, thinking you wouldn’t notice.

The whole time Shigaraki was on his phone, which he held in a bizzare way, it was known his quirk involved his hands but you never bothered to care, both these guys were murderous and you possessed no ‘quirk’ whatsoever so it really wouldn’t matter if it came down to physical altercations.

‘’We have t–these ones..’’ You lifted your arm up to show Dabi a new pair you got in last week as his eyes travelled to your bent ass, skirt accentuating the curves even more, as he smirked to himself.

‘’T–they collaborated two brands for this.’’ You murmured, not sure he heard you. His presence made you anxious, you knew what he was capable of and definitely wanted to live another day.

‘’Oh yeah?’’ Dabi said. ‘’How much do these cost? They’re fucking ugly.’’

You opened your mouth to retort but settled with a ‘’T–two grand.’’ It came off unsure and hesitant.

‘’These are dead. Two grand for these abominations? Hey Shiggy, come look!’’ He told the man who had been too consumed with his phone to listen to the conversation.

‘’Look at that shit man, can you believe trash heroes buy that for two grand?’’ He questioned as the latter lifted his gaze.

‘’Yeah I really don’t give a fuck, buy your shit and go, I have content to upload.’’

‘’Please excuse him, baby, he’s just a weirdo who gets off on livestreaming the people he decays, don’t worry we won’t take long.’’

Decaying? Livestreams? And why did he call you baby? These guys had to be joking, they were openly talking about murdering people for fun and you suddenly felt sick, your stomach with its contents turned over.

You had been silent, looking at them in horror, while Dabi broke the silence.

‘’Awwh, c’mon now, I’ll be nice. I think I might like these.’’ He said and pointed to a pair of black plain sneakers, they’d suit him, you thought despite the predicament.

You must’ve not reacted at all so he spoke again.

‘’Are you slow, sweetheart? I said I want to try these on, in 15.’’ The tone made you immediately snap out of your thoughts and take a step back—he felt too close through your peripherals.

‘’L–let me check in the b-back for you guys..’’ You apologized, you couldn’t even turn around but somehow got to the storage room. Fuck, of course he had to be wearing one of the largest freaking sizes, your store never brought these as no one ever bought them, what was he, a fucking giant? You were frantically searching through storage drawers and anything scattered you could find across the room but without success, the pair was sold out (was a basic choice) and the sizing available was 13 and below. Shit, you cursed, as you were about to exit, when you saw two figures at the door startling you.

‘’What’s taking you so long? Lost in the hallway?’’ Dabi mocks, as Shigaraki snorts.

‘’I- I– couldn’t f-find the ones you’re looking for.’’ You avert your eyes and Dabi’s smirk wavers.

‘’What does that mean, baby?’’ He furrows his brows. ‘’You should be grateful I even chose this shitty store in the first place. It’s not enough you charge poor customers two grand for shoes I can find in the dumpster, now you’re telling me you don’t have the one pair I actually liked?’’ He raises his tone as he has you practically pinned against the door. You could’ve sworn the other guy's laughing but the room’s spinning and you try to take a deep breath.

‘’I- i’m sorry, guys, p-please let me try to find s-something else- for you, I–’’

‘’No, I think you can just shut the fuck up now. I don’t want excuses from that pretty mouth of yours.’’ His words hurt as you try blinking your tears away—it used to help but not when they’re flooding your eyes like a stream anyway. You feel like this could actually be your end and matter of fact, anyone would know soon enough, as you’d probably also get livestreamed while they’re at it.

‘’Soo.. let me get this straight, you can’t find a proper excuse, you don’t have my shoes, you make me and Tomura wait while you're blabbering some bullshit and you scam stupid cunts for money. Does your boss know he’s hired the dumbest whore on the planet or do you fuck him to keep your job? And for a shitty job like this? You reaally gotta be desperate.’’ He finishes and now the tears are well formed and fall from your eyes, as you sob—you literally sob, ashamed and hurt, these men didn't even know you and here they were throwing words around because of a pair of fucking shoes, you feel useless and embarrassed, as you choke out some ‘I'm sorry’s.

None of them seem to care about your tears or your stuffed nose, snots falling down your chest and staining the work blazer and Dabi continues in an amused tone.

‘’Stop crying, it's pathetic. Be of use instead, will you?’’ He sighs and looks at Shigaraki, who had been watching his phone intently the whole time.

‘’Tomura, how do you think bitches like her pay when they can’t satisfy my needs?’’ He asks the man, who contemplates for a second, kind of clueless and annoyed, interrupted from the live streaming of the rest of the LoV.

‘’Ugh.. I don't know, kill her? Listen man, we don’t have much time, we have to go meet the rest, so whatever it is, make it quick. I want to show my face in Toga’s stream, she has too many hot bitches watching.’’

This man is out of his mind.

‘’Shiggy, you fucking incel, it’s not like you’re going to fuck any of them, so how about you put your scrambled, decayed brain to good use?’’ Dabi responds, all while you’re looking at the exchange horrified, where is this going?

‘’Well...since apparently I’m the smart one here, I’ll tell you both how this is gonna end up.’’ Dabi exhales, he sounds bored but his eyes gleam, he seems amused. ‘’You can’t offer me my shoes? You offer me your body, it’s not like you have anything else going on for you. I fuck you and your little cunt and you–’’ he turns his attention to Shigaraki, ‘’–you’re going to film the whole fucking thing. Should grant you enough pussy, once I let you participate.’’

You want to scream, you really do. But there’s no words coming out, the phone’s too far away, the storage room's hidden in plain sight and there’s two guys ganging up on you so what’s the only thing you do? Beg.

‘’P-please, Dabi, I can—I can help you find something else, we have-’’ You blabber but he cuts you off.

‘’Wow doll, surprised your dumb brain memorized the name. But I don’t blame you, I would too.’’ He’s inching closer to you, as you back off, each step he takes leads you towards the end of the room. The closet touches your back—you’re pinned under him, the shelves hit against your back.

‘’Got the camera on?’’ He tells Shigaraki, without turning to look at him, while the latter scoffs.

‘’Yeah, all set.’’ You can see him holding his phone and wait impatiently.

‘’Now..’’ Dabi says, ‘’take that nasty shirt off, God, who dresses whores like you up? Tits out and everything for the public to see.’’ He says as your shaking hands start unbuttoning the work blazer; you had no shirt under it, it was a hot day and you hadn’t bothered, it’s not like customers were frequent.

He’s so close that your arms touch his shirt as you slowly unbutton it and the blazer falls down your shoulders, your bare tits in full display not just for him but for Shigaraki’s camera to film as well. His eyes rake you up and down, your cheeks stained with tears, your hair disheveled with strands that stick out in opposite directions as your tits quiver on your chest. It’s swift, but you notice how his turquoise eyes widen—not a lot, since they’re heavy lidded and half patched anyway.

‘’Fuck, these look nice..’’ He comments as he brings up both hands to grope them while you gasp. His hands are not as cold as you expected, they’re large, slender and painted black as he starts circling his wrists while still at a fair distance. You moan and he smirks, Shigaraki switching spots to get a better angle.

Dabi closes the distance as his face is on yours, his breath on your mouth and you close your eyes when he laughs.

‘’Aw, did you think I’d kiss you?’’ He says as you whimper frustrated but he continues ‘’Whores like you don’t deserve kisses.’’ He grabs your skirt with both hands and aggressively lowers it as you stumble trying not to fall down.

His words cut deep and you fight the urge to let another stream of tears down your face; you’d been called names in the past, but the way he talked upset you way more than anyone before. Unbeknownst to him, your felt your panties smeared, his warm hands had turned you on—the thought of you being like this disgusted you. You really were pathetic and he’d soon find out.

His hands cupped your clothed cunt as you moaned ‘’D-dabi, please–’’ to which a voice from the back laughed. You had completely forgotten about Shigaraki, the fact that he was watching (and filming) making you want to vomit.

‘’Baby, please shut the fuck up.’’ Dabi says ‘’Tomura, are you getting this?’’ But at this point Tomura was not only getting it but holding the phone with one hand while the other rubbed a bulge on his pants.

Dabi moves your panties to the side, almost ripping them apart and pushes two fingers without warning in your cunt as you choke on a moan. His fingers feel good, too full in a way and he knows how to move them inside, working his way deeper, while they’re already long.

‘’Man, you’re not gonna believe how wet she is.’’ He tells Tomura, who hums and strokes his clothed cock, phone still in his hand.

You’re being moved up and down the shelves, his fingers penetrate your cunt with force as you feel the pressure in your core build up, you think about fucking yourself on his fingers, grinding up and down—maybe cum and have them gone?, but he brings his other hand to your neck and chokes you with precision, blocking your airway immediately: ‘’Don’t think you get to decide when to cum.’’ He says and he removes his stained hands, your arousal is brought to your face as he turns around and proudly shows the camera.

‘’Look at this retail cockwhore guys, pussy dripping from two men she couldn’t sell shoes to!’’ He brags and you crumble, embarrassed and desperate for an end.

‘’D-dabi, p–please don’t say that!’’ You mewl and he looks down at you with pity.

‘Say what? The fucking truth? Aren’t you a little cumslut, yes or no?’’

‘’I– I–am n-not—’’

‘’I said, are you or aren’t you my little cumslut, yes - or - no?’’ He orders as you notice something small and blue igniting from his fingertips and you freeze.

‘’Say it.’’

‘’I- i am.’’ You brokenly murmur, but he needs all the words.

‘’You’re what?’’

‘’Y–your cumslut..’’

‘’I need the name too, camera's on you know’’. His patience wears thin, you can tell by his tone.

‘’I-i-am--Dabi’s cumslut.’’ You look at the camera and with that he finally snaps, turning you over and grabbing you by the waist, his fingers touch your bare back, as he spanks a heated palm on you and you flinch.

‘’Good, now let’s show everyone how cumsluts like you get fucked.’’ He unzips his pants and brings his cock in between your folds.

The sensation is intoxicating, your heat and his pre in between you while your hands are stretched to touch a shelf you can’t reach. You don't even know what you're up against, fuck, you hadn't even seen—

‘’Make sure you’re getting this.’’ is all Dabi says before abruptly pushing his cock inside you as you let out a sharp cry, he’s too big and you can’t take him at once, a pain shoots up your belly as he starts thrusting at a steady pace.

‘’P-please ‘s too much, s-slow d-down!’’ You yell behind you but he doesn’t seem to care, as he grabs your hips harshly and pushes himself deeper, your cunt stretching to accommodate whatever it can and you thank his fingers for the prior mess they made.

‘’Fuuck, feels too good.’’ He groans as he thrusts into you. You hear a sudden whimper and look around to see Shigaraki with his cock out, moving his fist up and down his length—eyes fixated on the spectacle.

You don’t have time to beg him to stop filming because Dabi’s slender hands are toying with your clit, his cock rips apart your insides as pads of his fingers find the bundle of nerves with ease. He teases it—not harshly, as his cock does that for you, but in light strokes, like he’s trying to tickle you and you feel yourself tremble, your cunt twitches and he feels it too apparently, because he groans ‘’Shit, you’re tight, too? Who would’ve expected it, huh..’’ as Shigaraki is starting his commentary on camera.

‘’Take a look guys, this is probably the biggest cockwhore we’ve seen... look closer! getting her loose cunt all fucked like that.’’ Dabi huffs, skin slapping sounds reverberate across the storage, as he continues his pace, cock disappearing in between your folds.

‘’Man, shut the fuck up.’’ He tells the guy behind him, ‘’her pussy’s tight as shit..or maybe I just have a big cock.’’ You can tell he smirks and you moan, it's like he's harsher now, his cruel words while they shouldn't, are bringing you closer and you can’t deny the pleasure he’s giving you, each time he belittles you or Shigaraki for the matter.

You can't even see him, but you imagine him drinking in your pathetic state: desperate, arched back, lifted skirt and abused flesh—frustrated whines and miserable attempts to sink down his cock, even when you know damn well he’s the one setting the pace.

‘’Hey, Shiggy..’’ Dabi groans, ‘’want me to let the whore fuck herself on my cock? She seems soo eager.’’ He tells Tomura, who at this point is solely focused on your ass sinking on Dabi ahead.

‘’S-sure..’’ He breathes out, too horny to care.

Dabi stops moving, cock hard and still inside you, stretching you out regardless, as you pant frustrated. You’d been so close and he stopped once again. Fuck it, you think, you need to get your release somehow.

You take a deep breath and start tantalizing him, cock throbs in your walls while you move and grind your hips back and forth. Dabi hisses, his hands dig in your ass, a pain from a metal on your hips—you’d definitely have marks tomorrow but it feels too good and he lets you, which surprises you.

‘’D-dabi, is she good?’’ A voice calls from behind but Dabi doesn’t answer, he just lets you do your work as you increase your pace, your legs are about to fail you but you raise yourself up and grip whatever you can find in front of you; you can hardly breathe. You think you might make yourself cum and he must be on the verge too, because he grabs you by the hair and spears his cock so deep, you want to scream—but you can't because there's not enough air in your lungs to function. ‘’Enough.’’ He spits and starts drilling himself back at his own relentless pace.

You feel numb but a known sensation spirals under you, fuck, he feels good and you suddenly wish for his hands on your clit so you beg. Again.

‘’D-dabi, please, agh t–touch me..there.’’

‘’Beggars can’t be choosers, baby.’’ He smirks and picks up the pace, if that's even possible, the motion perfect for your pussy to squeeze him in tighter and while he acts all tough, a hand is back on your clit. He wants you to come undone, wants to be the one bringing you to such despair.

‘’D-dabi!, I-I'm-hmn.. g-gonna–’’

Hairs stick to your sweaty forehead, veins pop out your hands as you cum feeling a faint knot snap, you blabber a bunch of incoherent words and tremble, shutting your eyes in shame.

He’d been waiting for this, holding himself back but he wanted your mess, your pathetic orgasm so he can let himself go with a couple final thrusts. He groans, praising your ‘’good cunt– baby..’’ before shooting his load inside—shit, he came inside, you think, this is so wrong but the sensation is tingling, almost satisfying in a twisted way.

A voice interrupts the moment when both of you turn to look at Shigaraki, cock in between a fist and a frown on his face, he seems upset.

‘’Dabi, you idiot, I wanted her too.’’ He says and Dabi looks at you, fucked out and cum oozing from your hole. His cum.

‘’Well,’’ Dabi looks at you, ‘’would my favorite cumslut help a friend in need?’’ he smirks, ‘’Just some head, we don’t have all the time in the world, alright?’’ He smiles as you lower your gaze—fuck fuck fuck, wasn't one enough? What's the point of arguing though, one look at both of them convinces you otherwise.

‘’C-could I please have some water?’’ You try to stall, throat dry and raspy from the sounds made earlier.

‘’Water?’’ Dabi laughs, ‘’nah...it’s too far away. Here, have this instead.’’ He says as he approaches you and swiftly moves his hands up your cunt, gathering his load and your juices and bringing the mix to your mouth. ‘’Open up.’’ He orders and your eyes widen before you realize he sticks his fingers in your mouth, coating your tongue and continues ‘’now, you can suck the incel off.’’

Your mouth isn't dry anymore—it's disgustingly covered in his salty cum but Shigaraki's too impatient to retort and already has his cock poking at your opening. He’s smaller but has nonetheless notable girth.

‘’Mhm..not gonna last, man.’’ He warns but Dabi seriously doesn't care. Indeed, once you're forced to take Tomura in your mouth under Dabi's glare and bob your head up and down a couple times, he pants and whines, cock jerks in your mouth, as a palm with the pinky lifted rests on your head pushing it down his groin. You gag as he stretches your mouth full, the flushed tip scratches down your throat, but soon enough he comes; you can tell by the way he frantically bucks his hips up, so you remove your mouth in tears, when he loses control, this feels horrible. His cum spurts all over the place, some lands on your hair and some on his shirt.

‘’Fuck!’’ He groans, ‘’My shirt’s stained, you whore.’’ His voice is whiny as red eyes narrow. For the first time, he manages to inflict terror upon you, his hand’s about to touch you when Dabi interrupts.

‘’Enough, she’ll give you another one, I’m sure shitty store sells some lame shirts somewhere.’’

Tomura sighs and removes his shirt. He throws it to your face and hisses.

‘’Gross, you can keep it, cumslut’’. You feel tainted and humiliated, some fresh tears wipe semen off your face, when Dabi speaks up.

‘’Tomura–’’ There's still hope in your eyes, as you turn to him.

‘’She's about to put in on Depop, you know.’’

Dabi and Tomura smirk and you wordlessly get up, something plummets inside (your heart?), as you wipe tears inside your elbow, the only clean body part of yours.

It’s been hours since the shift ended and they left the store, blowing you a kiss but you’re curled up in bed as you anxiously scratch your knees. You feel dirty. Empty. You remember Dabi’s hands on you, Tomura’s shirt and load in your hair, which was later thoroughly washed to the point clumps fell off, when a message appears on your phone.

It’s a message request and it reads:

How’s my favorite cockwhore doing?

You suddenly feel very nauseous, how did they even find you? Your hands are shaking as you pick up your phone to unlock it, only for a new request from a different account to pop up:

1 attachment sent.

You take a deep breath as you try to think rationally. Don’t cry. Crying doesn’t erase it. Don’t cry.

This could be worse, you finally convince yourself. This could’ve been livestreamed.

#mha x reader #dabi x reader #mha fanfiction #shigaraki x reader #todoroki touya x reader #mha smut #dabi smut #bnha x reader #tw noncon #tw dubcon #tw degradation #tw dumbification

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jigeuminunbich · 7 months ago

Text

cherie amour | han dongmin (taesan)

synopsis — in which dongmin finds himself falling head over heels for the regular that comes into his job (at a vintage record shop) every afternoon.

genre — college!au, fem!reader, s2ls (strangers to lovers), and fluff

content — halfway proofread ngl, kinda has a princess & the pauper vibe (reader is quite privileged & goes to an elite college), quite a few awkward pauses and bashful stares, and dongmin can’t flirt for the life of him

word count — 2k

author’s note — first work out of the neo realm, hope you all enjoy!

playing — my cherie amour by stevie wonder, can i call you rose? by thee sacred souls, and all i do is think of you by the jackson 5

A bead of sweat trickled down the side of Dongmin’s face. The rickety fan his boss had found from storage was doing absolutely nothing to shield him from the wrath of the summer heat— and the fact he refused to turn on the air conditioning wasn’t helping him in the slightest either.

Despite feeling like he had been transported to the sixth circle of hell, Dongmin didn’t mind his job, it had actually been a juvenile dream of his to work in a place much like this. Somewhere with artifacts filled with history, antique furniture and decor, a devoted community of customers— and surely, that’s what he got following being hired for this position.

But he definitely wasn’t expecting to be overworked as one of the few underlings for his incompetent boss who had inherited the place and having to endure the smell of what could only be described as vintage.

The continuous buzzing of the fan that whirred beside Dongmin’s propped, beat-up sneakers was muffled for a brief moment as in came one of the meager reasons he decided to put up with his job— only, even.

You.

Following the chime on the door, a wave of heat entered the record shop but you graciously came with it, so Dongmin couldn’t really complain. You greeted him with a smile as he hurriedly straightened in his seat and adjusted his posture stiffly. The smile was returned to the best of his abilities, but he’s sure it came off wonky and jarring.

Silently, you waltzed around the shop. It wasn’t very big, and he’s positive you’ve walked each aisle at least a few dozen times but it still had you coming back every other afternoon.

It was ritualistic for you to stumble into the small-scale record shop nestled between an antique boutique and a genuine crystal shop— Dongmin had become hip to this months ago when he had first began working here. Though, it was obvious to him that you had been doing this a lot longer than his time, judging by the way you interacted with veteran staff and even that dense boss of his.

You were around his age, clear from the cardigan you wore that was proudly embroidered in fancy cursive of what he discovered was your home school— the elite college that rivaled his. It had been an initial thought of his that maybe you were an alum and just liked the comfort that the sweater offered but after miraculously seeing you at a rival game between your two schools’ football teams— he knew for sure that you were close in age.

Unfortunately for him, those were the only details he had found on you. Alleged things about you floated around between his coworkers and to his own ears but he ignored them for solid truth. The truth was, you were clearly a devout music lover from a realm he didn’t know of, a school he could only dream of attending, and a lifestyle he had absolutely no experience in.

“Anything new that you recommend?” At the arriose sound of your voice, Dongmin came to a realization that he had been staring at you for far too long.

Under your curious gaze, he stilled. Nearly forgetting to breathe over the fact you were speaking to him. Another fact he had come to realize, is that you enjoyed your solitude. It wasn’t often that you spoke to him outside of your purchase of a vinyl or the rare CD. But when you did, Dongmin always fell into the same trap as if it was happening for the first time again.

“I—uh— what’s your genre?” He knew this already. You had an affinity for 60s music— he came to conclude from the dozen of vinyls he had previously rung up for you.

You hummed, glancing to the spotty ceiling as you contemplated. “I always go for oldies. Anything recent that you like?” As you asked this, you drew closer to the counter where Dongmin was quickly breaking out into a cold sweat over the fact you were verily nearing closer to him.

Your eyes didn’t waver from him, it was clear that you were genuinely interested in his own opinion.

“Well, I don’t listen to too much recent stuff myself, actually.” He managed to respond, not having the capacity to filter his honesty.

Now opposite of him by the counter, you giggled. Dongmin swore his heart skipped a beat, or two for that matter.

“Well, I guess you’re no help then?” Your voice lilted with humor, your head tilting.

“Heh. No, I guess not…” To Dongmin, he was sure your bout of conversation would end here. You would choose something along the lines of your usual, get rung up with some sort of small talk, and go on about your day while he finished out his shift wallowing about how he wished he could’ve said more to you.

“What’s your genre, then,” you squinted momentarily to double-check his nametag. “Dongmin?”

For a moment, Dongmin had forgotten his name was his own. You watched him blink at you for a few beats before visibly collecting himself.

“Me? Well, I like rock— like Nirvana and My Chemical Romance. But I like easy listening stuff too…”

You nodded, “I assumed just as much.”

Dongmin’s eyebrows shot up into his fringe, eyes wide with surprise. “Really?”

An endeared smile etched onto your lips instantly. “Yeah, every time you’re here they’re always playing over the speakers. But I hear the Carpenters every now and then, too. You have good taste.”

Dongmin fought the flattered expression that attempted to spread across his features, clearing his throat in an effort to swallow his excitement. “Thanks.”

You nodded, a silence floating in the air as you two both seemed to wait for the other to carry on the conversation. With the atmosphere starting to feel cramped, you open your mouth to ease the awkwardness but Dongmin thankfully beats you to it.

“We—uhm— actually just get in some new vinyls that I think you might like…”

You visibly perk up at this. “Did you?”

Dongmin nods, his tone coming off a bit hesitant. “Well, you get a rotation of the same artists, I noticed…”

Your laughter eases the weight on his shoulders, he finds himself smiling fondly as you nod your head in agreement. “No, yeah, I do. I guess I’m quite predictable,”

Dongmin shrugs. “There’s nothing wrong with that. I think your music taste is good too.”

You find yourself smoothing a hand over your jacket, flattered. “Thank you,”

“No problem.”

You both lock eyes for a beat longer than expected, your own being the ones to flit elsewhere as could feel the flutter of butterflies swarm in the base of your belly. Dongmin’s gaze on you is only interrupted when you clear your throat before speaking again.

“Did you want to show them to me?”

“Oh! Yeah, sorry,” As if he had been split from a trance, Dongmin lurches back into reality to begin leading you towards a dusty corner of the shop.

A giggle leaves you as you follow close behind. “No worries.”

It’s safe to say Dongmin did not fabricate that the new selections would be to your liking. You find yourself rifling through the crate carefully, multiple familiar artists’ cover arts calling your name. Dongmin can’t help but admire you as you work your way through the vinyls with pure amazement in your eyes.

“Anything catch your eye?” He gestures toward the basket that you were leisurely searching through.

Your gaze shifts upwards to where Dongmin is standing, sheepishly remembering that he was there. “A lot. I’m supposed to be on a budget for stuff like this but— Oh my god! I’ve been looking for this,” you excitedly pull out a yellowed Lesley Gore vinyl.

Dongmin’s amused laughter catches your attention and you roll your eyes at him before shaking your head. “Damn, why’d you have to know me so well?”

“Heh. I can get you a discount, if you’re interested?” Dongmin approaches you, delivering his sentence carefully to test your reaction.

You jerk away in surprise, shocked that Dongmin would even offer to do that for you. But you can tell he’s genuine as he watches you intently awaiting your response. “No, no. I just need to practice some self-control…”

“You sure? I can’t promise that old guy won’t buy up all the Marvin Gaye in here…” You follow his hands as they skim the top of the distressed and begrimed vinyls, almost like a hypnosis.

A huff leaves you, the memories of your elder competition that most likely had no idea was your competition coming to mind. “Shit— you’re right. Okay, fine. I’ll indulge myself just this once.”

You decide to humor Dongmin and yourself, picking through the crate again to remove several LPs that caught your attention. Dongmin nods, finding confidence in being able to bond with you. After you make your final decision, you both head back over to the counter to finalize your transaction.

“You didn’t have to do this, y’know. I’m sure this is actually against the rules…”

“Nah. It’s fine my boss does it all the time for customers he likes too—“ Dongmin realizes his slip of tongue a little too late, his expression reminding you of a deer in the headlights.

“Really now?” You muse.

“Uh—yeah,” Dongmin coughs. “That’s your total…”

Your eyebrows jump instinctively at the outcome, gladly digging around in your bag for your card. “Damn. I’m glad you like me because inflation is killing me right now, here,”

Dongmin accepts your payment and you don’t miss the way he avoids your eyes bashfully. When everything is squared away, your hefty bag in hand, he decides he’s capable of addressing you head on.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you around then?” He visibly forces out, internally hoping it comes across as natural (he doesn’t).

You nod automatically but have a sudden train of thought that you decide to take a chance and verbalize. “Actually… do you get off any time soon?”

The boy across from you is clearly stunned at the inquiry, blinking at you a couple times before answering. “Uh— in about an hour, actually…”

“Cool. I’ll be at the café across the street, if you don’t have anything to do that is… I feel like it’s only right that I repay you…” The last of your sentence trails off as you feel you’re rambling on, but Dongmin couldn’t have looked more interested in you.

“No! I mean, I don’t have anything to do— I’m free, yeah.” Dongmin shuffles, setting himself in a pose that he hoped conveyed how nonchalant he wanted to be but was clearly failing to do so.

You find yourself amused with his antics— a bit flattered as well. “Alright then, see you in an hour?” He nods intently while he watches you back away from the till.

“An hour it is.” He affirms, returning the wave you spare him before the shop’s door chimes again. Promptly, your warmth leaves him to the humidity of the shop. But he holds his pose knowing he’ll be engulfed in it once more.

#જ⁀➴ mads’ writes to:#han dongmin x reader #taesan x reader #taesan x you #dongmin x reader #han taesan x reader #boynextdoor x reader #bnd x reader #kpop x reader #boynextdoor imagines #boynextdoor fic #boynextdoor fanfic

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dippedanddripped · 5 months ago

Video

youtube

SFV's Only Boutique Sneaker Shop... & So Much More!!

#youtube #sneaker blogger #Studiiyo23 #sneaker boutiques

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yanmuffins · 1 month ago

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Glad you getting better muffin! I just wanted to ask if you could show the style of clothes that teen!vampire!reader wore and when she become adult after and before the biting thing please?

context &. context.

anon i love you. i hope your crops are watered and your harvest is bountiful. i'm really excited that i get to talk about this!! disclaimer: i know a lot of people aren't too keen on inserts being too characterized or specific, but i hope everyone will enjoy her fashion style! i promise it's relevant and i had a lot of fun with it.

so. where do i even begin with this post?

it all begins, of course, with vampire! reader's coming to the wayne manor as a child and the circumnsances behind it. that was a huge shift in her life. she was very little when it happened, long before damian could even dream of being concieved. media was going insane over this bastard wayne child that appeared out of nowhere, hoping to catch a glimpse of her to stamp on next day's newspaper and magazines. and as guarded as she was from the public eye, public appearances were inevitable, even if they were minimal at the time. so it was very important for her to dress and behave very proper and put-together.

but damage control wasn't the only, or even the biggest reason she was dressed like that. we have already established vampire! reader's fashion sense was greatly influenced by alfred, yes (and it still kind of is) — but also the new (fancy, upper-class) environment she found herself in. alfred mostly dressed her in whatever he thought was fitting for a wayne child, and although his choices might have been a bit outdated, no words of complaint were uttered. little vampire! reader's outfits were the least of bruce's problems at the time.

but all in all, it was alfred wanting to welcome her into the family and make her legitimate, providing the best of the best, donning her in the best fabrics from the best seamstresses and the best boutiques. he would show her old pictures of her grandmother, martha wayne, how she dressed, would show her the jewelry that were her heirlooms, and let her take a look at martha's old clothes that she could use once she was old enough, if she so desired.

now reader's fashion choices walk hand in hand with her upbringing, with the education she recieved. she takes being a "proper wayne lady" very seriously. it was a choice of mine to only have vampire! reader wear darker, more somber colors. it overall fits thr wayne/gotham aesthetic as well as emphasizes her upbriging, her blending in to the point of not being noticed. darker colors are also heavily associated with vampires, so there's that too!

onto the outfits. now, teen! vampire! reader is a bit more laid-back and experimental than her child self. but... not really. she begins to coordinate her own outfits without alfred's help, but his influence is far too ingrained in her brain for her to truly distance herself from it. she has certain luxury brands she will and will not buy from, seamstresses she contacts when she wants a piece custom-made.

the excessive formality of her childhood outfits dwindles, but doesn't completely disappear. it gives place to looser silhouettes, a pop of a brighter, non-muted color here and there, a shorter (gasp!) skirt if she's feeling daring, cashmere cardigans and (gasp!) a pair of sneakers here and there. she will go for more formal outfits here and there, but they have a certain joviality to them. the mary-jane shoes are still there, and so are the ballet flats, but now they're joined by loafers and oxfords. of course we have the fancier, tailored fits, with the tweed jackets and such, but they're mostly reserved for fitting occasions. heavy on the usage of long black/grey skirts, usage of pants or shorter bottoms pretty much non-existent.

this is somehwere around the time she convinces bruce to ditch the homeschooling and let her attend high school.

now, as vampire! reader reaches adulthood, the laid-backness of her outfits take a backseat. she leans onto more mature options, martha wayne and alfred's influence back with more force as she adds plenty of her grandmother's belongings into her own wardrobe. with some adjustments, that iconic black dress martha wayne wore to that charity ball fits bruce wayne's daughter like a glove at yet another charity event at the manor. and so many 50's-inspired outfits. her skirts are long, pleated or circle/swing for a more voluminous look with the help of some peticoats. full of neat gathers. usually plain dark or grey in color, but sometimes there's a plaid or a pied-de-poule to add a bit of fun to the outfit.

and that's when she starts wearing martha wayne's jewelry, too, so vampire! reader is getting fancy old money points not just for wearing expensive designer items like they cost $99 cents, but also because a lot of her wardrobe has extremely valuable, genuine vintage pieces that she inherited from a family member.

(can you tell i'm having fun leaning into the nepo-baby aspect of this? because i am. this reader is emotionally neglected but broke she is not.)

here you don't really have the loose sillhouette anymore. there's a lot of things reminiscent of her teenage phase, but now we have puffy skirts with a snatched waist — but nothing too form-fitting, either! no such thing as pencil skirts in her wardrobe, elegant as they may be. sometimes you might get an off-shoulder moment, but that's about it. we have a lot of fur (from martha's wardrobe), wool, velvet, etc.

(most of these are for fancier occasions!!)

but although she wears a lot of vintage or vintage-inspired outfits, there are fits that very much modern. get this: vampire! reader wears pants. jeans, mostly, and not very often, now that she's gone to college, but still. ironically, the sneakers are pretty much out, with designer slingback heels taking their place. designer heels, in general. lots of bags.

vampire! reader also... kinda flirts with the color red here and there, before being turned into a vampire. just a little pop of red here and there, maybe it's a more daring choice of dress she wore. just eyeing the color red sheepishly one time or another. hehe.

and, of course, her style of dressing is very much related to her upbringing. shaped by it, actually. she does enjoy the way she dresses, but i do think it portrays well the overly-posh, demure and modest image she maintains even uncounciously. always safe and never daring (as in she will stick with the outfits she deems proper/appropriate and will not deviate from them, at least not too much), always aiming to honor the family name.

but! onto the more modern outfits that i put together myself:

these are outfits vampire! reader wears on a daily basis! at this point she goes out a bit more often, to go to class, go shopping, a stop by a nice restaurant for lunch…

now here's some more references that i found on pinterest:

now you must be asking yourself: what about haute couture? does vampire! reader purchase those gorgeous, straight-out-of-a-dream dresses? and the answer is no. not often, at least. again, she keeps a very muted, elegant, somber style with no room for sequins, rhinestones, intricate or unconventional designs, anything too flashy in general. in those occasions she’s invited to fashion weeks she might stare at some of them longingly, desperate to find a plain enough dress she can wear to one of those few public appearances in she’s allowed to make. this is all before vampire! reader... well, being turned into a vampire. but i will say that the changes start some time before her transformation. her gradual changes and ultimate style as a vampire are still a work in progress, i'll admit. but.

dresses get more fitted, at first. the necklines get lower. skirts get a tiny bit shorter. the outfits more playful, more risqué, more assymetrical. there are corsets, deep red and green velvet, delicate laces, sleeveless tops with no white blouse underneath. it's cunty, that's all. and honestly? this is once again vampire! reader being influenced, this time by her sire, as she goes out with them into the night. the confidence isn't really there, lots of outfits she hasn't really picked and isn’t comfortable wearing.

(jason, duke and damian are first to notice it, and it makes a few alarms go off in their heads.)

i have some references and inspo, lots of them from 90's and early 2000's fits. she’ll lean more into haute couture then.

but i’m still deciding on vampire! reader’s style once she gets turned. this is the overall gist of it, though. a femme fatale kinda vibe — sexier, cuntier and absolutely powerful once that confidence kicks in and she starts wearing what she wants.

so that’s it for now I guess?? thank you for the ask anon, this was super fun!! ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡と

#asks.#anonymous.#yandere batfam #yandere batfamily #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfamily x reader #vampire! batsis.#long post.

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daryltwdixon · 1 month ago

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Summary: In the years following the outbreak, survival became routine—mornings started early, days were spent working on the town, and nights ended with quiet meals. But everything changed when a stranger with kind eyes and a knack for seeing past your dad’s gruff exterior slowly weaved himself into your hearts, gaining the family neither of you knew you needed.

After everything fell apart, it all seemed blurred together in a haze of work. Getting the local generators started, setting up a water system, pulling resources from the abandoned town—it all happened so fast, yet somehow, it felt like it had always been this way.

Mornings started early these days. That was just how life was now. You didn’t mind, though. Most days, you liked the rhythm of it—the quiet moments before the sun fully rose, when the world felt still, as if it hadn’t completely gone to hell.

You rolled out of bed, the worn mattress creaking beneath you. The air was crisp, your breath visible in the weak light that filtered through the thin curtains. You tugged on the boots you’d scavenged from the old boutique, their worn leather a little too big but infinitely better than the sneakers you’d outgrown months ago. The laces dangled loose as you shoved them into the tops, not bothering to tie them.

Downstairs, the sharp tang of smoke from the wood stove hit you first, mingling with the faint metallic scent of canned goods. The familiar clatter of pots echoed in the small kitchen, followed by your dad’s low, muttered curses.

You found him hunched over the table, his broad shoulders casting long shadows in the dim light. A knife glinted in his hand as he worked it under the lid of a stubborn can, the muscles in his arm taut with the effort.

“Morning,” you said, hopping onto the chair across from him.

He glanced up briefly, his eyes heavy with the kind of exhaustion you were beginning to recognize as permanent. “You need to tie those boots,” he grunted, jerking his chin toward your feet.

“I’m fine,” you said, swinging your legs a little as you leaned forward to peer at his progress with the can.

“You’ll trip and break your neck one day,” he muttered, turning back to his task.

“Then you’ll just have one less mouth to feed,” you shot back lightly, though the flicker of a smile on your face was met with a glare.

He grunted in reply, still focused on the can. “Not funny–here, breakfast.” He nodded toward the plate he’d already set out for you. Jerky, half a slice of bread, and a cup of water. You grabbed a piece of jerky and bit into it, chewing thoughtfully as you watched him fight the can.

“You know we’ve got an opener, right?” you asked, grinning as he shot you a sharp look.

“It’s dull,” he said shortly, finally cracking the lid open with a triumphant grunt.

“Maybe you should sharpen it.”

“Maybe you should finish your food.”

You smirked and leaned back in the chair, finishing the last of the bread. As rough around the edges as he was, your dad was your favorite person in the world. He didn’t say much, but when he did, you listened. He was the reason you were still alive, and you were determined to keep up with him, no matter how hard he pushed.

“We’re fixing the south fence today,” he said, standing and grabbing his shotgun from the rack by the door.

“It’s always the south fence,” you said, hopping down from the chair.

“Because it’s always loose. C’mon.”

By midmorning, you were crouched by the fence, your gloved hands pulling at the loose wires while your dad stood a few feet away, shotgun resting against his shoulder. He wasn’t watching you, not really. His eyes were on the treeline, scanning for movement, but you knew he was paying attention.

“Pull it tighter,” he said without looking at you.

“I’m pulling it,” you whined, tugging harder at the wire. It bit into your gloves, and you gritted your teeth.

“It’s still slack by the post.”

You sighed loudly and stood, putting your hands on your hips. “You wanna come do it, then?”

He turned, raising an eyebrow. “I already fixed three posts this morning. What’ve you done?”

“I’m doing this one!” you shot back, half annoyed, half laughing.

He shook his head, but there was a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Just tie it right the first time, or you’ll be fixing it again tomorrow.”

You bent back down, muttering under your breath as you tied off the wire. When you finished, you gave it a sharp tug to test it. The post held.

“Good?” you asked, standing back and dusting off your gloves.

He walked over and gave the post a firm shake. It didn’t budge. “Knew you’d get it eventually, kid.” he said, slinging the shotgun back over his shoulder.

You grinned. That was about as high as his praise got, and you’d take it.

The rest of the days, weeks, months–hell, years – passed in a blur of work. Fixing fences, helping him haul supplies from the stores nearby to the house, and checking the inventory while he stood over your shoulder. It wasn’t easy, but you both loved surviving off the land, being self-sufficient in every way you could.

“What’s that put us at?” he’d ask as you scribbled in the notebook in the pantry one day.

“Two cans of beans, three soups, powdered milk, and one jar of—uh, something pickled,” you replied, squinting at the cloudy liquid.

“Better than nothing,” he said gruffly, “I’ll check the traps tonight. Might’ve caught a rabbit or two.”

In the afternoons, you worked on the garden. It was small but stubborn, tucked against the side of the house where it caught the most sunlight. Tomatoes, carrots, a few herbs—you’d been the one to plant it, and you were proud of the scraggly little plants that somehow kept growing.

“Don’t drown the tomatoes,” your dad said from the porch, where he was chewing on a toothpick and watching the treeline.

“I’m not drowning them,” you replied, rolling your eyes as you tilted the watering can.

“Looks drowned to me.”

“Looks like you’re a backseat gardener.”

He snorted. “I’m just saying, if they die, we’re eating canned soup for a month.”

“Maybe I’ll let them die, then.”

He smirked and shook his head, turning back to scan the horizon.

By nightfall, the two of you were seated at the kitchen table, the room dimly lit by the soft glow of a lantern. The only sounds were the clink of forks against plates and the occasional creak of the house settling around you.

Dinner had evolved over time. What started as simple canned soups had become marinated game with sides of roasted vegetables, thanks to the garden you’d nurtured and the skills your dad had honed over the years. The food was warm and filling, a small comfort in an otherwise unpredictable world.

The quiet between you wasn’t awkward—it never was. It was the kind of silence that came from years of shared routines, of knowing what the other would say without having to speak. It felt steady, reliable, and in its own way, almost normal.

You set your fork down, your eyes drifting to the glass of red liquid sitting in front of him. The faint smell of it reached you, bitter and rich.

“Daddy,” you called softly from your side of the table, your voice tentative.

“Yes, hunny?”

“Um… may I… may I taste that?”

He paused, his fork halfway to his mouth, before setting it down next to his plate. His sharp eyes squinted at you, equal parts amused and skeptical. “How old are you now?”

“Dad…” you groaned, rolling your eyes dramatically. “I turned 10, like, two months ago!”

“Hey, you’re the one keepin’ track of years. I’d rather forget how old I was.”

“So…?”

“So, what?” he griped.

“Can I have some?”

He picked up the glass, swirling the wine around like he was thinking it over. His gaze flickered between the glass and you, and for a second you thought he’d say no. But then his lips quirked into a smile beneath his beard. “Alright, come here.”

You practically jumped out of your chair, grinning as you scrambled over to his side of the table.

He held the glass out carefully, his other hand cupping it to make sure it wouldn’t tip. “Just a sip,” he warned, watching you like a hawk.

You took the glass in both hands, the weight of it feeling heavier than you expected. Slowly, you brought it to your lips and tipped it back. The first taste hit your tongue, bitter and sharp, and you immediately recoiled, scrunching up your face.

“Yuck!” you exclaimed, thrusting the glass back toward him as your tongue darted out, trying to scrape the taste away.

Your dad barked a laugh, taking the glass and setting it back on the table. “That’s my girl,” he said, shaking his head fondly.

He leaned over and kissed you on the top of your head before standing, stretching his arms over his head. “Now, wash those dishes before you head to bed, alright?”

You groaned, dragging yourself back to your seat. “Do I have to?”

“Do you want me to start counting?”

You sighed loudly, beginning to gather the plates. “Alright, alright. I’m going.”

“Thank you,” he said, heading down the hall toward the living room to start the fire.

“I’ll be in to read soon,” you called after him, smiling to yourself as you started rinsing the plates.

One day when you had awoken, the morning came earlier than you’d have liked. The sun was still low, and the air in the house was cool, heavy with the earthy smell of the fire that had burned low overnight. You yawned, shoving the blanket off as you sat up. It took a second to notice the difference, but when you did, it was sharp and immediate.

The house was too quiet.

You swung your legs over the side of the bed, listening. No clatter in the kitchen. No grumbling or muttering under your dad’s breath as he banged around. The space felt still. Empty.

“Dad?” you called, slipping your boots on hastily. No answer.

The knot in your stomach tightened. He wouldn’t just leave without saying something—not without leaving a note, at least. You made your way downstairs, scanning the room. His jacket was gone, his boots, too. Your eyes darted to the monitors that had been moved onto the counter over the years, instead of down in the bunker.

Your dad had insisted on setting up cameras around the perimeter years ago, though you’d rarely seen anything but a raccoon or the occasional deer on the grainy feeds. Once in a while, you’d get the stray Infected, but they’d easily be shot down or blown up by tripwire and traps. Still, you moved toward the cameras now, fingers fumbling slightly as you flipped the switch.

The screens blinked to life, flickering with static before settling on the familiar views: the road leading into town, the garden fence, the edge of the woods. Nothing. Nothing.

Then, movement.

You stopped, staring at the screen. It was the ditch by the western fence. Your dad stood there, his shotgun raised, pointing down into the shallow pit.

Someone was there.

The man was half-hidden in the shadows, his arms raised above his head in a clear gesture of surrender. You leaned closer, squinting at the screen. His mouth moved, but the camera didn’t pick up sound. He was saying something, pleading, probably, though your dad didn’t lower the gun.

“Shit,” you muttered, grabbing your jacket.

Your hands shook as you threw it on, not bothering to button it as you shoved your knife into the sheath at your hip. You bolted out the door, the cool morning air biting at your cheeks as you ran toward the western edge of the property.

Your boots thudded against the ground, every sound amplified by the silence around you. Branches scraped at your arms as you cut through the narrow path in the woods. You could hear your pulse in your ears, your breaths coming out too fast, too loud.

“Are you armed?”

Your dad’s voice came sharp and clear from the other side of the fence. Relief and fear swirled in your chest—he was okay, but he was still out here, still in danger.

Finally, you reached the gate, your hands trembling as you shoved it open. You gasped for breath, trying to steady the wild thumping in your chest, but it was no use. Your dad spun toward you at the noise, his brow furrowed with anger.

“Get back to the house!” he ground out, his voice low and sharp like a knife’s edge.

“Are you okay?” you asked, forcing your legs to move closer to the edge of the pit, even though your heart screamed at you to stay still, “Who’s this?”

“I said—”

“Well? Is he armed?” you interrupted, glancing down at the figure in the hole.

“No!” came the man’s voice from the pit, ragged and breathless.

“Why’d you take so long to respond?” your dad snapped, his gun unwavering.

“I don’t know,” the man admitted, voice shaky. “I thought about lying for some reason.”

You stepped closer, finally getting a good look at him. He looked rough: hands raised in surrender, a long-sleeved shirt that was torn and dirty, and hair that was just as wild as his beard. Gray streaks peppered his bangs, and his face was lined in a way that told you he might be around your dad’s age.

You’d seen strangers before—sometimes out the window, other times passing through when your dad wasn’t around. You’d even snuck food out to one or two of them, slipping them bread or scraps before sending them on their way. Your dad had found out once, and the fallout had been monumental. Chores for a week, no leaving the house unless he was right there.

But this man was different. He had kind eyes.

“Look,” the man said, his voice breaking slightly as he shook his head. “I’m just trying to get to Boston.”

“Alone?” you asked with pity, glancing between the man, the woods around you, and your dad, who still hadn’t lowered his gun.

“We started with ten, but yeah. I’m alone now.” He breathed heavily, his hands still raised, palms open and trembling slightly.

“From where?” your dad’s voice cut in, low and quiet.

“Baltimore QZ,” the man said, looking up. His expression tightened. “It’s gone.”

You sucked in a breath. Your chest felt tight, a knot twisting in your stomach. You hadn’t heard anything from outside in so long. You barely remembered there were things like a Quarantine Zone if it wasn’t for the radio your dad kept on in his garage sometimes. The world could’ve crumbled entirely for all you knew.

“Are you hurt?” you asked softly, leaning forward just slightly.

The man’s gaze shifted to you, softening. His hands lowered a fraction as he said, “There’s just a bruise. On my elbow. I’m fine, hunny.”

“Dad… come on.” You turned to him, your voice steady even as your heart pounded. This man needed your help. He seemed nice, after all.

Your dad’s eyes stayed locked on the man for a long moment, his shoulders tense, his finger hovering dangerously near the trigger. Finally, his gaze shifted to you.

“Get the ladder,” he said, his voice clipped.

Relief rushed through you, and without another word, you ran to grab the ladder, dragging it over to the edge of the hole. You set it down carefully, feeling optimism spark as you watched the man climb.

Your dad didn’t lower his gun. Instead, he set the shotgun down and pulled out a smaller pistol, keeping it trained on the man’s chest.

“Get back,” he hissed at you, his tone harsher than usual.

“He’s not gonna do anything!” you snapped, frowning up at him.

His glare made your stomach twist, and you reluctantly obeyed, taking two steps back.

“Stop there,” he barked at the man, who froze mid-step. Stepping forward, your dad pressed a device to the stranger’s neck. You recognized it, a scanner that was used to tell if someone was infected.

The device beeped, and the light flashed green. You exhaled, the knot in your stomach loosening. Not infected.

“How’d you get that?” the man asked, stepping out of the hole.

“Boston is that way,” your dad interrupted, pointing the gun toward the woods behind the man. “You can make it by nightfall.”

“Daddy…” you whined, tugging gently on his sleeve, but he didn’t even look at you.

“I’m really hungry,” the man pleaded, his hands half-raised again. “I haven’t eaten in two days… Doesn’t sound long when you say it out loud, does it? But it feels long.” He cracked a weak smile, his lips trembling slightly. “Feels real long.”

“I’m letting you go,” your dad raised his voice, both hands steady on the pistol. “So go!”

“Alright, look,” the man said, raising his voice. “My name’s Frank—”

“Oh yeah?” your dad cut him off, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Here’s the thing, Frank . If I feed you, then every bum you talk to about it is gonna show up here lookin’ for a free lunch. And this is not an Arby’s. I got a kid , goddammit.”

“Arby’s didn’t have free lunch,” Frank said, shaking his head. “It was a restaurant.”

You giggled, and Frank caught the sound, his eyes flicking to yours. He smiled briefly before letting his face fall back into something more serious.

When your dad didn’t reply, Frank pressed on. “I won’t talk about it to any bums, hobos, or vagabonds. I promise.” He dropped his hands to his sides. “You already know I’m bad at lying.”

You stepped forward, your small hand resting lightly on your dad’s arm. His muscles twitched under your touch, but he didn’t pull away. Slowly, his eyes flicked down to meet yours.

“Daddy, please.” you pleaded.

And finally, he set his gun down.

The first meal you had with Frank, you thought your dad was going to have an aneurism.

It started before Frank had even come back from his shower. Your dad had you set the table perfectly, barking instructions with more force than usual: forks on the left, knives and spoons on the right, everything lined up just so. It wasn’t like this was the first time you’d set the table, but tonight, he watched you like a hawk, correcting you when the napkins weren’t folded evenly or the plates weren’t centered.

You raised an eyebrow. “Since when do we even use napkins?”

“Since now,” he replied firmly, giving you that look that meant don’t ask questions.

When you asked if you should chop vegetables like usual, he shook his head. “Not tonight,” he said, his voice brisk. “I’ll handle it.”

He was on edge, more than you’d ever seen him, and it left you feeling restless too. Why did he care so much about what this guy thought? He hadn’t even wanted to let him stay, but now he was… what? Trying to impress him?

You sat on the edge of the couch, swinging your legs and fidgeting with your hands as the smell of roasted rabbit filled the air. Your stomach growled, but you didn’t dare ask when dinner would be ready. You just watched your dad work, his shoulders tense as he moved between the stove and the counter.

Eventually, he brought the plates to the table, setting yours in its usual spot to the right of his. Frank came back from the shower not long after, hair damp and sticking to his forehead. He had new clothes on that were given to him, and he looked…normal. Nice, even.

For a moment, everything was quiet as you all settled in. Then, Frank took a bite.

“What the fuck?” he said suddenly, freezing with his fork hanging in midair.

You froze, eyes widening, your fork halfway to your mouth. You looked at Frank, then up at your dad, waiting for him to react. Frank was staring at his plate like he’d just discovered gold, and your dad just shrugged, popping the cork on the wine bottle.

“Everything tastes good when you’re starving,” he said.

“Yeah, but not like this!” Frank pointed to his plate, already digging in again. “My god.” His voice dropped on the last part, like he was talking to himself.

You blinked, glancing at your dad, who was moving to Frank’s side of the table to pour wine into his glass. This wasn’t normal. This wasn’t him . Your dad barely tolerated conversation with you at the table most nights, and now he was pouring wine for a stranger like it was no big deal?

“A man who knows to pair rabbit with a Beaujolais,” Frank said, sounding genuinely impressed.

“I know I don’t seem like the type,” your dad said, setting the bottle down.

“No, you do,” Frank replied, his voice soft and gentle.

You blinked, watching them. Something about the way Frank spoke—it was like he saw through your dad’s gruff exterior, right to the heart of him. You weren’t sure what to make of it. For years, your dad had been your rock: tough, protective, and a little hard to please. But this was the first time someone else seemed to see him as something more than just that.

Frank glanced over at you suddenly, a warm smile tugging at his lips. “What about you, kiddo? How old are you?”

“Ten,” you said quickly, straightening up. “My birthday was a couple months ago.”

“Double digits!” he said, grinning. “That’s a big deal.”

You nodded, glancing up at your dad. He didn’t say anything, just kept eating, but you caught the twitch of a smile under his beard.

“Do you help your dad with all this?” Frank asked, gesturing at the table.

“Yes, sir,” you replied eagerly. “I help in the garden and with the fence, and sometimes I cook. Not tonight, though.”

“She’s in charge of the garden,” your dad cut in, his voice softer than usual. “Knows more about it than me.”

Frank’s eyebrows raised. “Is that right?”

You grinned, pride swelling in your chest. “Yeah. I planted tomatoes and carrots, and we have basil and rosemary, too.”

“Basil?” Frank repeated, impressed. “I love gardening, I had all kinds of things growing in mine when I lived just North of here. But at 10? You’re way ahead of me. I was lucky if I could make toast at your age,”

You giggled, feeling your cheeks warm under the attention. Frank had this way of making you feel important, like what you said actually mattered. It was nice.

When dinner wrapped up, Frank leaned back in his chair with a deep sigh. “That was… unbelievable,” he said, patting his stomach. “I guess I better get going now.”

You frowned, glancing at your dad, who didn’t seem to react at all. He just looked awkward and expectant, sitting rigidly in his seat, like he wasn’t sure what to do next.

“But first!” Frank said suddenly, standing up with renewed energy. He practically bounced out of his seat, and before either of you could process it, he was striding out of the room with purpose, leaving you and your dad to exchange confused looks.

You both stood, following him into the next room. He stopped in front of the piano, his fingers brushing lightly over the top.

“I’ve been staring at this the whole time,” Frank said, his voice full of curiosity. “Is it antique?”

“1948,” your dad said flatly. “It was my mother’s.”

Frank's eyes lit up. “You know how much these are worth?!”

“Uh, currently nothing,” your dad replied dryly, clearly not in the mood for a piano appraisal.

Unbothered by your dad’s sarcasm, Frank made his way toward the bench, pulling open a drawer and rifling through sheets of music. “Man, this stuff is all kinds of—” He stopped suddenly, pulling out one particular book with a soft gasp. “Ah, but this is you.”

He sat at the bench, flipping through the pages. “Oh my god, this is my favorite!” he said with a gleam in his eye, like he’d found some hidden treasure.

Then, without warning, Frank began playing. It wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t great either. You couldn’t help it—you started to giggle, stifling the sound with your hand. The song wasn’t exactly cheerful, but the way Frank played it made it sound a little… jauntier than it was meant to be.

Your dad didn’t share the same sentiment. He rushed forward, shaking his head. “No, no, no—no thank you, sorry.”

He closed the music book with a snap, and Frank, undeterred, stood up from the bench. “Clearly, I’m not a professional.”

“Well, neither am I,” your dad said, his tone still slightly annoyed but with a hint of amusement. At that, Frank pointed toward the piano, inviting him to sit.

You watched, begrudgingly, as your dad hesitated for only a moment before sitting down at the bench. Your heart swelled unexpectedly. It had been so long since you’d heard him play.

"Then I’ll leave," Frank said, holding up his hands in mock surrender, sensing your dad’s reluctance.

The first notes from your dad’s hands were soft, almost hesitant, but they settled into something familiar, something gentle. It wasn’t fast or loud, but it was beautiful. You hadn’t realized how much you missed hearing him play until now, and the way the song lingered in the air made your chest feel tight. There was something in the music, a quiet weight to it, something you weren’t quite sure you understood but felt in your bones.

You glanced over at Frank. His face had softened as he watched your dad, his usual sharp expression gone, replaced by something tender. You caught the way he was looking at him—a mix of admiration and quiet understanding. You almost felt like you were intruding on something private between the two of them.

Frank cleared his throat softly, breaking the silence. “So who’s the girl?” He tilted his head, his gaze still locked on your dad.

Your dad paused, just barely turning his head toward you. His eyes flicked to you for a fraction of a second, then quickly back to the piano. “Hunny—go finish your reading.”

“But, Daddy, I wanna hear—” you began, your voice small with curiosity.

“Now,” he said, his tone still gentle but firm. “Please.”

You hesitated for a moment, torn between staying and doing what he’d asked. You looked between him and Frank, and finally, with a heavy sigh, you obeyed.

You stepped away, but the room felt too quiet. As you reached the door, you heard your dad’s soft voice behind you. “There is no girl.”

You turned, your curiosity pulling you back just a step, only to see Frank with his hand on your dad’s shoulder. It wasn’t forceful. It wasn’t quick. It was slow, tender, a touch that said everything without words.

“I know,” Frank replied softly, his voice laced with understanding.

And then they kissed.

The bow wasn’t your idea. You were supposed to be learning the rifle, but it wasn’t going well.

“Relax your shoulders,” your dad said for what felt like the hundredth time. His voice wasn’t harsh, but there was an edge of impatience that made your stomach twist. “You’re too tense. Line it up.”

You tried to do what he said, shifting your grip and squaring your stance like he showed you. But the rifle felt awkward in your hands, heavier than it looked, and the butt of it dug into your shoulder no matter how much you adjusted. You squinted down the barrel at the tin can on the log, trying to steady your shaking arms.

The shot rang out, loud and sharp, and the rifle kicked against you hard enough to make your teeth rattle. When you lowered it, the tin can hadn’t even budged.

You winced, glancing at your dad. He let out a sigh, taking the rifle from you. He didn’t look angry—he never did—but the pinch in his brow and the tightness in his mouth made your chest ache. All you wanted was to impress him, to show him you were capable.

“I told you—” he started, but Frank’s voice cut in from where he leaned lazily against the garden fence.

“Bill.” His tone was light but firm. “Take it easy.”

Your dad turned, his jaw tightening. “She’s gotta learn, Frank.”

Frank pushed off the fence, walking toward you with an easy stride. “She will,” he said, crouching beside you. His eyes flicked to the rifle, then back to you. “But she’s not you, Bill.”

You blinked, staring at Frank as he tapped the rifle with one finger. “And that thing’s heavy as hell. Why not try something that actually fits her?”

Your dad huffed, his grip tightening on the rifle. “It’s fine,” he muttered under his breath, but Frank just smiled like he’d already won.

The next day, your dad called you outside. He was holding something you hadn’t seen before—a bow, simple and handmade, with mismatched limbs and a rough string.

“What’s this?” you asked, tilting your head.

“Yours,” he said, holding it out to you.

You hesitated, glancing between him and Frank, who stood a few feet away with his arms crossed, watching with a small, knowing smile. You stared at it, your fingers hovering just over the wood.

“Why not the rifle?” you asked carefully.

“Because you don’t need it,” your dad said, his voice gruff. “This is better for you. Safer. Quieter. And if you break an arrow, you can make another one.” He paused, clearing his throat. “Bullets run out.”

You looked down at the bow, running your fingers over the smooth wood. It felt lighter than the rifle, less intimidating.

“You’re gonna have to practice,” your dad added, crossing his arms. “A lot. But it’s reliable.”

“It’s pretty,” you said softly, lifting it to feel the weight.

Frank laughed from behind you. “See? Told you she’d like it.”

Your dad shot him a look but didn’t argue.

The first time you’d shot the thing, it felt awkward, but not as much as the rifle. Your dad stood behind you, adjusting your stance with quick, deliberate movements. Frank offered commentary from the side—helpful, though it earned him a glare or two.

“Relax your shoulders,” your dad said, echoing his earlier advice.

You drew the string back, your fingers trembling slightly.

“Breathe in,” he said. “Breathe out. And let go.”

The arrow flew, embedding itself in the dirt a few feet from the target.

You groaned, but Frank clapped anyway. “Not bad for a first shot!”

Your dad shook his head, taking the bow from you. “You’ll get better,” he said simply, his tone steady. “Practice every day. You’ll get good.”

And you did. Over time, the bow became an extension of yourself, its simplicity and reliability something you could count on. Frank teased you sometimes, calling you “Robin Hood” whenever you hit a particularly difficult target, but your dad just watched quietly.

If you didn't know better, you'd say you could see a flicker of pride in his eyes.

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