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andersonfilms · 2 months ago

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≛ THE APPLE'S ROTTEN STRAIGHT TO THE CORE!

❝ ABBY!CENTRIC ONE SHOT ❞

♪ ˚. THE BRAT CHALLENGE ♱ ⋆.˚

feat. drummer!abby x fem!reader x footballplayer!ellie

warnings. eighteen+, nsfw content: switch!abby (kinda), jealousy, cheating, abby’s pierced nipples, reader desc. feminine, fingering, munch activities, toxicity ensuing, voyerisum, strap sex.

THE APPLE'S ROTTEN STRAIGHT TO THE CORE, ellie williams, sporting 88’ on the back of her jersey, the world renowned football player from the united states. the overly competitive blood runs through her veins, passed down from her father, just as well as an overpowering ego the size of texas. she has the girl of her dreams, the most important game of her life in sight, but what happens when one drummer threatens to wreck it all?

wc. 10k

It’s easy to feel safe and comfortable with her, slipping into a simple life. Traveling the world with your favorite soccer player, the auburn-haired five-foot-five of pure talent, as soon as her custom cleats step foot on the field.

When the crowd echoes chants of her name, the rumbling of the rowdy fans, aggressive shouts cursing the other team. With crushed beer cans, sunflower seeds are spat on the ground, and they are begging for a goal. The 88’ jersey was littered across the stands. Every fan in the arena went to see her, yet you aren’t here.

It was one of the biggest games of her career, and you would not be seen anywhere, especially after the past week. She doesn’t blame you; Ellie could only blame herself but needs her good luck charm. The events replaying in her mind, haunting her while she tries to get one wink of sleep, but the look of horror in your eyes, the shoulder check you left her with, green eyes pleading to reason with her, but you refused.

Let me know when you want to grow the fuck up and tell me what’s wrong with you.

The words running in her mind, haunting her as she sleeps at night, wondering if today is the day the stone will be unturned or if she’ll actually tell you everything bothering her. But she doesn’t. Never had she seen you like it; rage carries higher than the waves of a tsunami, and all of it, every drop of water, seems to be crashing over her.

Every drop of it suffocates her until there is no oxygen left to breathe.

When she gets home, she scours the apartment for a trace of you, yet half of your belongings are absent. Ellie starts to wonder if she’s pushed you too far this time. Always, she’s betted on you sticking around through thick and thin but maybe you finally had enough.

Has she pushed you too far? Are you too far out of reach? She has no choice but to let you drown with the devil itself, succumbing to your own needs for once, not hers.

The side of the closet holding your belongings was in disarray. Ellie could see that your favorite belongings were absent. All the sweaters, hoodies, hell, even the flannels you would steal from her were meticulously folded and placed in the corner.

Ellie thought you would give her the benefit of the doubt. She thought you would let her explain why she had taken the job offer without consoling you. Now, considering what she seems to be losing, there’s nothing she wishes for more than to take it all back.

Any success is so trivial if she has no one to celebrate it with, not without you.

From the very start, you’ve been right there by her side. From the very beginning, it wasn’t as picture-perfect as she imagined. The fairytale began with what she thought would be a never-ending love story.

Something so pure, it could never turn rotten.

—

Growing up on the outskirts of New York had its perks. The small town was busy, yet the countryside tucked an hour away gave you a sense of solitude. Entirely predictable suburbs, the cul-de-sac tucked in the back of the neighborhood reeks of disturbed suburbia.

Everyone knew everyone, and you knew Ellie.

You were ten the day the two of you became friends, and you’ll never forget it. Clumsily, you had just fallen off your bike, knees skidding by the concrete as the skin had been peeled, the wound viciously open.

“Did you fall—” the girl shakes her head at herself, curses flying into the wind. “Of course you did. God, so stupid.”

She continues talking to herself as you weep slightly in a pathetic manner. Affectionately, the mysterious girl who also happens to be riding her bike past the park in your neighborhood pats you gently on the shoulder.

“I'll be right back. Stay there. I'll be back. Promise.”

She disappears on her blue and red bike, red hair flying in any direction the wind takes, but returns just like she said — a girl of her word.

“Here, let me fix you.” She grabs the first-aid kid from the bucket on her bike. Ellie kneels on the ground. You notice her bright blue Converse with red laces, which match her bicycle perfectly.

“Yeah, okay—” you sniffle, wiping away your tears as the nice girl tends to your knee. “Thanks.”

She grabs the needed tools, “Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing. Well, I used to fix my dad all the time. He's a soccer player and gets hurt a lot.

You stay silent as she rambles on.

“One day, going to be just like him, but better. My old man got too old before he decided to be good. I'm going to be the best player ever.”

“I bet you will be.” your eyes find hers, the sun making them shine like an emerald diamond, just like the one your mom wears on her ring finger.

“My coach says I'm good already but tells me not to get my hopes up.”

You realize Ellie has already cleaned your wound; her small hand applies pressure with the gauze as he wraps it away. She's so concentrated but simultaneously rambles away about her dad, the last soccer game she played in, and jokes to get your mind off the pain.

“How does it feel?” Ellie asks, the corner of her lip upturns, a soft smile gracing her freckled, full cheeks.

“Better,” you thank her, smiling shyly. She observes you as you hop back on your bike, ensuring you aren't in pain. Curiously, her mind drifts to how cute you are, and she wonders why her stomach is in complete knots.

She confuses it for sickness.

“You’re welcome.” Ellie stretches the nape of her neck, and her short hair sticks to her skin from the heat. “I'm Ellie, by the way.”

“I know.” You offer your name as Ellie blushes, her cheeks tinted pink. The love you feel is etched right into her heart, and she feels it from the first moment your name is said.

In a cliche, obvious way, the rest was history.

The two of you were best friends until college, bringing out the best in you—platonic love blossoming into something sweet, a one-in-a-million love you can only hope to find in someone else.

The tricky thing? It works. The two of you fit better than you could have ever dreamed of. The incredible bliss of youth leaves your faith blinded, corrupted by the true love you have for Ellie. Oblivious to flaws, all you see is her. Assuring you follow her around like a lost puppy; anything she wants, she gets. The skeletons in the closet are no match for the two of you, each being dragged out one by one.

But not by either of you.

—

One Week earlier…

“Would you stop so we can talk about this?” Ellie nearly shouts at you, granting her another eye roll, she’s lost count on how many you’ve thrown at her since the two of you left the club. The longing looks, her wandering olive eyes on someone else all night, gawking at the muscles, making you feel envious of someone you couldn’t have.

Your girlfriend’s attention.

But this is all your fault, right?

“Talk about what? How you, Ellie, made a decision to make a life altering decision without me? Yeah, okay, let’s fucking talk.” You have a bite in your voice, one Ellie has rarely heard, the sweetness diluted with her consistent need to keep you in the dark. “Fucking talk, please. I’d love to hear the bullshit excuse you’re gonna give me.”

“Why are you making this a big deal? It’s my career, not yours.” You bite your tongue as the words leave your mouth. Instantly, you feel burned by the person who thought loved you more than anything. Even in the heat of the moment, you figured she would give you the benefit of the doubt, even when you’ve been blind sided by her teammates. All because she was too much of a coward to tell what she’s already done. “Right. Foolish of me to think we’re a team.”

Spitefully, you throw your belongings in your tote, ignoring when she tries to grab your wrist, dodging her quickly. She tries again but stops when you tell her to. The only boundary she leaves untouched it seems.

“We are a team.” Ellie tries to convince you, but you don’t budge. Not an inch of you believes the shit she’s spewing at you.

“Oh! Well, that’s a surprise to me. If we’re such a team, why don’t you tell me why you won’t have sex with me….for eight months?” You raise your eyebrows at her, giving her an opportunity to speak but she stays silent like she always does. “If we’re such a team, why did you accept a job offer on another continent without even giving me the respect to tell me about it before you accepted the offer?”

Ellie stays silent, finding the hardwood beneath her feet more interesting.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

You change into something more comfortable, slamming the bathroom door shut as you do, gathering other toiletries, different necessities you would need for the next few weeks.

You find her sitting on the edge of the bed in tears, as much as you want to hug her and give her the comfort she probably needs, there’s no good will in your heart. As much as you love her, only the boiling anger can be found. Blistering frustration, the one someone has when their girlfriend won’t touch them, kiss them, or even warrant them the truth.

“I love you, okay? I just need to figure some things out.” Ellie pouts, eyebrows furrowed as she says enough to get you to look at her. She sees the tears threatening to spill over, but you won’t let them fall in front of her. Never have you liked crying in front of others. Just as if she was anyone else, you would wait until you were in private to lick your wounds. “I just need some time, I just don’t know what’s happening to me.”

But all sincerity is lost, all you see in front of you is lies and deceit. Someone backed in the corner with no way to manipulate their way out.

“Well…figure your shit out, Els. Right now? It doesn’t seem like you do.” You grab your bags, slipping your shoes on, “I’ve had enough for now. Let me know when you grow the fuck up and let me know what’s wrong with you.”

—

Still, your blood boiled from last week’s exchange, the venomous words crawling up your throat like bile, as if this wasn’t what she wanted, what she started. All of this had been her idea.

Time and time again, dismissive words found their way into your heart, making a home before you had enough time to catch them. Sure, committed and faithful, she says. Then, she does this, makes your decisions without consulting you, and scolds you for getting upset about it. You craved space, so you did what any rational person would.

Swiftly packed your bags and flew to the other side of the country.

The fresh feeling is still swarming through your head, and the lingering words are aimed at your heart with more impact than you could stand. When they were told, Ellie regretted them the second they left her heart-shaped lips. Yet she stands there as she analyzes your tense frame, avoiding her at all costs.

You leave her with a soft murmur: staying at a friend’s. What you neglect to mention is that your friend lives on the other side of the country, tucked away in the safety of New York. Luckily, the nightlife is an easy distraction and does its job.

Intentionally, the first few nights are spent drowning yourself in liquor, letting yourself be grinded on by other drunk girls until they buy you shots, walking up back in your hotel room alone — then the cycle repeats.

The tranquility of a life forgotten, the gift of Don Julio, so like anyone else, you chase it. The drinks are free, the girls flirting with you are prettier than you’d ever seen but maybe that’s just the loneliness eating you up from the inside out. Yet, you find yourself itching to venture beneath, allow yourself to drown in someone else. Was there black lace? Possibly white or navy green boxers underneath? But you couldn’t, and you won’t. The guilt would eat you alive.

You told yourself it was just a fight, but was it? It’s when the second thought seeped in, invading the pessimistic part of your brain and feeding into malicious tendencies. Maybe you do want this? Something new?

Someone who wasn’t Ellie.

The thought alone sends shivers down your spine; an agonizing dread fills you. Never had you ever been provoked to leave, but the longer the silence welcomes you with open arms, the more the affliction lingers.

No text. No calls. No voicemails. Nothing.

Part of you ached for resolution. Even if it meant a means to an end, you could somehow soothe the aching in your chest. On the seventh day, she reached out.

A lazy effort of a text — couldn’t even be bothered to call.

elsbaby: can we talk, baby? please.

Perhaps if it had been the day after, two, three, even four — you would have the compassion to empathize. When she comes crying a week later after she spewed the most severe insults you’ve ever heard come out of her mouth? Any need to reconnect has dissipated at the drop of a hat.

this is what you wanted.

It shouldn’t make you spiral, but it does. You end up at a show; a rock band takes center stage at The Wolfhouse, and upcoming musicians try to make a name for themselves. Sitting at the bar, letting the vibrations of the base and the thumping of the snare drum infiltrate

Solemnly tapping the beat of your healed boot to the beat of the drum, you take in the singer on the stage. Black raven-haired beauty with a prominent nose and beautiful lips. She made the stage her own as she worked every angle known to man.

A firm belief is settled in your heart and everyone in there. She was born to be up there. You were too entranced, enjoying the music too much along with the cocktail in your hand, and you didn’t even notice the blonde making her way up to you.

As soon as you felt someone next to you, the first thought in your mind was how hellbent you were to be left alone. Even if it physically put you in distress, fuck, you couldn’t even remember the last time Ellie and you went on a date. The last time she touched you, kissed you, fucked you within an inch of your life.

It’s a pathetic, good for nothing excuse.

The line of morality blurs whenever your eyes latch onto eyes so gray the blue almost fades into them. Gorgeous freckles scattered across her smooth cheeks like twinkling stars in the galaxy.

Slowly, she takes your figure in, examining you up and down before smirking. She says nothing to you as she orders a neat whiskey. She hands her silver credit card to the bartender, “and whatever she wants for the rest of the night.”

You think for a moment she’ll talk to you, but she winks before settling into a booth with four others who look oddly familiar. The rest of the night, you’re met with tranquility and the steady and skilled bump of the bass guitar. It reminded me of when you were young, ambitions were the only thing on your mind, and you were lost in the never-ending need to be someone. It’s when you still believe something is worth living for, more than beating your drum to someone else’s tune.

You sipped on three Mexican martinis throughout the night and got lost when you walked up to the bar. The beefy, muscular blonde was there to greet you. This time, you got a clear look at her. Her rugged and toned frame shows off her commitment to the gym.

Yet, her deep blue pools are more charming than you would like to admit. A delicate edge to her jawline pulls you in as you admire the septum ring decorating her freckled nose, the bump in her nose making you smile softly.

You’ve always loved a girl with an intense nose for many reasons.

Mouth-watering, luscious, bliss - are all the words coming into mind when you’re looking at her. She’s wearing as little clothing as you would expect someone who leans masculine to wear, but fuck does she know it works for her. Black leather vest worn in, eating you up from the inside out, the musky scent filled with mahogany and a dash of vanilla.

The mysterious blonde's lack of undershirt adorns her body and steals the show. Immediately, she commands attention in every conceivable way. As mesmerizing as the raven-haired beauty appears, you would pay a lot to see her front and center on that stage. The shape of her small breasts is the real show in your mind, and the broad and toned torso gives you much to gawk at.

Nearly, you salivate at the defined four-pack she’s sporting. A pretty enticing deep v disappears delectably into her black leather pants as if she’s a modern-day adonis but with divine feminine written all over her. Without one doubt in the world, she knows she’s the hottest piece of ass in this bar, and for some unknown reason, she’s made you her target for the night. Wined and dined you all night without saying more than a sentence to you, and it seems she’s here to collect.

In the forefront of your mind, you believe it’s to serve some self-serving action to get off from what’s between your thighs, the sweet treat every girl has chased in this long week, but your long-term commitment tying you down like handcuffs to the post of your bed Ellie has kept you in.

Petrifying you to your bones, you aren’t sure what to make of the thrill building up; you can’t deny the longer you look at her, the more your thighs rub together in sync with the other.

“So—” With her tall stature, decisively, she steps forward, lips pressing against your ear with her hot breath seeping under your skin, “Are you wet because you know who I am or because you can’t stop looking at my tits?”

“Who are you?” Your eyebrows quirked up, and you wondered why it was a factor. Was she someone you were supposed to know? Now that she said something, there was something familiar, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. “Why would I have any idea who you are?”

Though your pussy has a heartbeat and seems to have a mind of its own. You forget about everything else when the woman gives you a toothy grin, which is too perfect.

“That’s cute, but see, everyone knows who I am—” Abby takes matters into her own hands and begins to nibble on the side of your neck, harshly biting and sucking lightly, taking in the taste of your skin as if she’s trying to find the perfect vein to puncture with her pointy canines. If it were the case, you’d let her suck the life out of you if you got to keep her to yourself for the night. “Don’t worry pretty girl, you’ll know by the end of the night.”

She’s passionately driven when her skilled lips and velvet tongue continue to make a mark on you as if you are hers to own, hers to please as she sees fit. You don’t even know her name, but the raging storm of lust isolates you within her honey trap. All of it feels too finite, everlasting, even if it’s just solid concrete to stand on for the night.

Then, you remember Ellie. The longing text sent to you, not even a call. The love of your life, or so you’d always hoped, couldn’t be bothered to call you this entire week. The fallout of an inconceivable aftermath only now did she try to reach out.

“Tell me why you’re soaking wet, baby girl.”

You try to push her back, but she doesn’t even move; her frame is too strong. Now, your warm, firm hand places itself on her defined abdomen, pressing against the clearly defined muscles.

You can’t deny how flushed you’ve become.

This time you are drooling; her thumb wipes away the liquid before she sucks it back into her mouth. Her grin is even more wicked, knowing she has you right where she wants to be.

It’s when you notice the mirrored scorpions, one on either side, her muscular biceps littered with tattoos, and the front of her neck — practically having fuck me written all over her.

You should leave.

You fucking should.

She has an appetite for something else, pulling you by the waistband of your pants, her finger securely wrapped around the belt buckle. Pelvis to pelvis, grinding against you swiftly to see how much you move, and the smile she’s wearing is satisfying enough.

She’s always liked them needy, messy, and so damn right horny they’re putty in her extensive and capable hands.

“I’m waiting.” Her hunger is evident in her tone. She is ready to relish her sudden craving, at least to you.

“I-I don’t even know your name,” you confess, hoping it will steer her away from you, but it’s a pathetic attempt.

“Abby. What else is your concern, babygirl?” Her knee sneaks between your legs, applying pressure to your cunt.

“I—” Almost with a soft thrust of her knee, Abby pushes against your cunt, damping her leather with a fucking desirable slick she’s dying to taste. Although it’s clear you like the chase, she gives it.

Had you had sex in the past eight months, you might have pushed away the overly cocky specimen, but it has been that long. Only making the patch in your panties grow as she teases your pussy.

Abby’s frame blocks anyone from seeing what she’s doing to you, your skirt riding up so much she can see the rounded cheeks slipping out, the black fabric slightly exposed under the bar's dim light. The more she presses, the faster your hips move against her.

Without a care in the world, you slid so far back, and you’re on her thigh, strong arms wrapped around you, whispering filthy nothings in your ear as you get yourself off on the stranger’s muscular body. If the bartender notices, she doesn’t mind. Pretends like you’re not even there. You’re not sure which is more embarrassing.

“Fuck, move those hips. Just like that, yeah.”

The high, the one you’ve wanted from your girlfriend who doesn’t even want to touch you, is so close. There’s a burn in your throat infused by sheer guilt that someone else will bring you to head. Some stranger you don’t know, one handsome stranger, yet when she pushes your panties to the side and thumbs your clit it’s so challenging to care about anyone but yourself.

You moan her name as she touches you, a skilled touch as she lightly pinches and soothes the sensitive bud. She completely enraptured you with the light touch she had to offer. Terrifyingly so, it shouldn’t affect you the way it does.

The look in her eyes would have sent you reeling. Her musky scent is already doing enough for you. You find yourself tangled in the webs of honeydew, suckling until you’ve had enough of the sweet sensation.

You’re just not sure how long it’ll be until you do.

“God, acting like you haven’t been fucked, baby. Such a dirty slut letting me do….well, whatever I want.”

Abby uses her free, dominant hand to guide your hips at a pace she sees fit. A thrill shoots down her spine as your incessant need grows like a flower at the dawn of spring—a tiny seed that is useless unless it bears root flourishing from where it’s planted.

“So, what’s it going to be?” Abby questions. A glimmer of assurance fills her ocean eyes. She was playfully biting your exposed shoulder blade.

“I can get you off right here, or you can come home with me.” the incredible sensation of her pierced muscling punching your skin with a chill, the stainless-steel ball adds a new sensation you weren’t expecting. She suckles and bites, marking you the more bruises as if she’s decorative for her enjoyment. “Or both. I think someone is close. I bet you’re ready to spill on my thigh. Wanna give me every last drop like the whore you are.”

“Your home?” you manage to spit out, trying to ignore the filth she spits, but it only brings you closer to your much-needed euphoric bliss. Abby’s efforts double over as if she’s fucked you before, bouncing her leg as as you ride her thigh, knowing exactly what you need to cum all over her.

Typically, the thread of your orgasm wouldn’t have been so easy to pull, but it seems she’s the one who placed it there in the first place. Months of not being touched left you in the hands of this Greek god who could make you feel whatever you wished for.

She’s cocky, confident, and the sexiest woman you’ve ever seen. Yet, the answer is still hard to find.

“Yeah, angel, my place.” You nod, unable to make a verbal confirmation.

“Gotta hear you say it.” Just then, the feeling that was bubbling spills over and all over her hand as she cups your cunt, thumb continuing to rub at your puffy clit.

“Yes, Yes, Yes.” you curse, chants of ecstasy fumble from your loose lips. Carelessly, you’re focused on the intense heartbeat between your legs, your body convulsing against her.

“What's that? M’not sure if I can wear you over your weeping cunt.” Repeatedly, Abby slaps your cunt as punishment.

“I-I want to, fuck, shit. Oh god, yes. I want to go home with you.” Your body slumps against her as she holds up your weight, and your high fades. Still, you feel blissful against her touch. Any other worry plaguing your mind dissipates, and all you think is her and strong muscles keeping you upright.

“Good girl,” she whispers before paying off the tab and putting the lace material pack in place. You feel the white liquid stick to you, filthy, resting against you—the once taintless fabric coated with the pleasures of your sin. Dizzy, unsteady, breathless — it’s everything you feel.

She thrives on knowing you need her. Even if it’s for tonight, the purpose will be served. Regardless of what she needs, this will be even more of a thrill, and the only thing she uses is her hand—not even her dominant one.

Abby moves your skirt down so your ass is covered again. “C’mon, pretty girl. let’s see how much of a slut you are." She leads you outside while she makes quick work of her phone, and suddenly, there’s a sleek black car, a Cadillac, you assume, with a driver in tow. The windows are tinted enough for you to wonder if it’s even legal. Silver rims, with a diamond emblem in the center shining so bright under the moonlight that it nearly takes your attention from the woman who has you in her grip.

“Last chance? I can have her drive you home.” She smirks, knowing you won’t take the out that’s being so generously given. Perfect, beautiful, she thinks, eyes still dilated from you getting off on her thing and the continuous swipe of the pad of her thumb.

It’s there. The smidge of penance you feel you’re obligated to ask for. Regardless of how amazing it feels, there’s something about the ending. This will be the end of all fuck ups; maybe, there’s still hope for the two of you if you go home. Call Ellie in the morning before the need to suppress the shame.

But don’t you deserve this one thing for yourself?

Everything under the sun has been for the auburn-haired beauty who has held your heart from the moment she patched up your bleeding knee. The moment a total stranger managed to win your heart, an adolescent love that knew nothing of the lesson of heartbreak or the years you chased after Ellie while she was chasing others.

How she let her feelings hover over the friendship of years with no consequence, especially after her long-term high school girlfriend, the one whose heart she broke into a tiny million pieces. Tragically, there still stood an existing fear for you. She was just a kid, but would she move on as quickly now as she did back then? It was as if they meant nothing to her, moving from the next one as if the time spent together had been insignificant, meaningless, just an ease to pass the misery of time.

You feared you would be the same.

Falling under the same umbrella, but you hope you are different. There were talks of marriage and settling into the countryside once she could retire. A shared dream, you thought. Perhaps it was a foolish sin to keep close to your heart.

Then there was Abby, a heavenly distraction from all the dread waiting for you. Everything you must pick back up eventually if you want to stay tucked into the nightlife of New York is just your dreams hanging up on the shelf, totting away with the relationship. An expiration date was labeled on the two of you, and an impending doom you could only fall through.

Everything was always for her.

Ellie. Ellie. Ellie.

“What’s it going to be, princess?” She pulled you towards as she spun you around with ease, back pulled to her chest, her lips kissing your ear. All you could focus on was how strong she felt. Her strong hold bending you to her will wouldn’t be a challenge. If she wanted to, she could do whatever she liked. You are sure no isn’t a word she’s used to hearing.

But it went further than just how she looks.

It’s in the way she doesn’t even have to lift a finger to have you hooked on her. It entices you, thinking about how long she’d been staring at you all night. The curve of your ass in your tight, little skirt — was she staring at it? Did she think about all the ways she could fuck your perfect little hole if you would let her do everything she’d been thinking of? The way your hardened nipples poked through your mesh top. If she said anything, you could blame it on the draft, not just her sheer presence making them protrude through the fabric.

She did no work whatsoever to make you cum, letting you use her to get yourself off. There was an ease to it. One you hadn’t experienced before.

Here she is, using it against you again.

“Am I coming in the car with you, or will you rub your clit, alone, wishing you’d let me fuck you in all the ways I’ve been dreaming?” Her hands sneak under the lace, pinching your nipples between her thumb and forefinger, enjoying the way your hips buck up, aching to be touched by her again.

“Just give in, baby. I know you want to.” Her dominant hand abandons your nipple, leaving the other to tease it. While she escapes underneath your skirt once again, “So wet for me already, huh?” Harshly, she grips your cunt, a finger sliding up your slit, but she’s intentional about not letting it slip in.

“I-I shouldn’t, shit, oh my g—” You try to think of an excuse, one good enough to convince yourself you should not go through with this. “I really shouldn’t.”

“And?” Abby’s canines dig into the side of your neck as she teasingly bites the flesh, soothing it with a velvet tongue, making more marks on the side she hadn’t touched tonight. “Are you taken?”

“That’s a complicated question.” Abby grins at your response with a sinister smirk.

“Well, if she’s not making you happy, let me do it for her.” Abby tilts your jaw, forcing you to gaze at her.

“Let me guess, no one has touched this perfect pussy in a long time. So, fucking neglected, huh?”

“I didn’t say I had a—”

“It doesn’t matter to me.” Your pussy dripping with shame at her words.

“Yeah, it’s been a while.” You admit. Abby continues to torture you with the split of your slit, the two of you starting to draw attention, but you think it just excites her even more. “I haven’t felt—”

The moment you say the words, Abby spins you around. You whine at her touch leaving your pussy, but she makes up for it slightly when her hands palm your ass. “Tell me. Look me in my eyes, baby, and tell me what you need. I’ll give you whatever the fuck you want.”

Your hands weave themselves into her golden locks. You are intertwined with the waves that disguise themselves as shimmering waterfalls. But you look down as you try to think of some excuse to leave and make yourself leave with dignity.

Big mistake.

The happy trail, the blonde hair travels inside her pants, leaving you in awe underneath the moonlight. Abby’s leather vest pushed off slightly, her tits still covered with black pasties.

“Why don’t you take them off? Wanna see my pretty tits, baby?” You nod with too much eagerness. Abby chuckles.

She watches with a smirk as you take them off. The silver, shining barbell has you moan at the sight of them—the sight of her. Smudged black eyeliner makes her appear even more irresistible, hooded eyes gazing at you; a gentle hand finds your throat, applying pressure with her thumb, constraining your breathing slightly.

“Fuck, they are perfect.” You confess, your eyes gleaming at her pink nipples exposed before meeting with her eyes once again.

“Yeah, they are, but they would look even better with your pretty lips around them.”

She will not give up.

“This is such a bad idea.” Abby knows your mind is made up, and you’ll come home with her. Even if the guilt swarms like a bee to a honey hive, it’s all the same to her. “But, God, you’re so fucking hot.”

Your hands roam her toned, tattooed torso, the scorpions so delicious you want to outline every detail with your tongue. The thought of being strong has worn off—only the woman before you is on your mind.

“Well, to me, it seems you can’t keep your hands to yourself.” Fingertips grazing her tits, her nipple hardening underneath you touch. “I’ll let you do whatever you want after I’m done with you. Well, if you still have the energy.”

A grumbling of frustration leaves your lips — you aren’t sure if it’s a desperate plea, a sigh of relief, or something else entirely.

“Like what?” You can’t stop touching her breasts, continuing to tease her pink nipple, but you meet her eyes. Abby’s positive you’ve never seen a smirk so wide.

“What do you like?” Abby pushes your hair back, fuck me eyes looking up at her. The ones that hadn’t left from the moment you laid eyes on her. She leans down just a little so her lips are pressed against your ear, “Do you wanna fuck my ass? Want me to sit on your gorgeous face while you eat me out? Fuck me in front of the mirror and watch my face when I cum?”

Grabbing your hair, she yanks it. Exposing the expanse of your neck. She’s grown so fond of marking. The slick between her thighs continued to blossom as you let her do whatever the hell she wanted. Like a whimpering bitch in heat, you took everything she had to offer.

Fuck it.

You cradle her face with her palms, smashing her lips to yours. It’s all tongue and teeth. Rough palms squeezing your ass, making you grind into her again. Your force casually lets her stumble into the car but you don’t let up. Whimpering and moaning into her mouth like there’s no tomorrow, as if this moment will slip right through your fingers.

Her breath smells of fresh mint, her tongue casually dominates yours, staking claim to what she already believes to be hers. It’s then you realize your forever doomed because you feel the fluttering in your stomach as she growls in your mouth, animalistic — your pelvis grinding against her much more defined one.

You pull apart for one moment, unable to take one more moment away from her.

If you don’t get it, her tongue, her cunt, those pretty fingers decorated in silver jewelry, hell, you would settle for her pierced nipples rubbing against your clit.

“Abby?” She stops, opening her eyes to see you. You’re even more fucked out than she is. “Yes, baby?” She hums into your mouth, the sweet sensation vibrating your entire body.

“Let’s stop giving everyone a show and give me one.” Abby nods, the first sign of her eagerness as she opens the door for you, unable to keep her hands off you.

“We better go before you soak my car then, hm?” She slaps your ass as she leads you in.

—

As she has you in tow, hand in yours leading you towards the elevator in her building, the most luxurious one you’ve seen, one so high you’re sure it’s the highest in the skyline of New York City.

It isn’t surprising she has her own driver, or she lives in the penthouse of the building, even the plaques decorating the wall — a shrine to her evident success. Everything just…makes sense. Yet there’s a pit in your stomach, crawling and feasting. It's swarming within you, a nagging incessant fly buzzing around warning you to run. You don’t have much time to think about how horrible of an idea this is.

Alone with someone who could easily overpower you, at the mercy of a complete stranger yet when she puts her arms around your waist, all of it seems to melt away. She’s given you no reason not to trust her. You’re just thinking too much.

That’s all it is.

The little voice chants in your head, trying to make excuses for yourself as to not go through with this but they dissipate when her calloused palms find home on your waist. Soothing over your delicate skin, enticing you into her impenetrable web. Everything about her intoxicates you. Making every thought vacant your head, even more so when she starts playing with the hem of your skirt.

“Let me get you a drink.” She kisses your temple before going behind the makeshift bar in the dining room. An assortment of every liquor component known behind her. Part of you thinks she’s doing it for show, the way her biceps flex as she shakes the drink in the silver canister, pointingly making the drink you’d been ordering all night long.

So, she had been watching you all night. You knew if she wasn’t as hot as she is, you’d be creeped out. But it’s hard to be creeped out when she’s still shirtless, the black leather vest doing very little to cover her. Any time she moves you see her pink pierced nipples, nearly making you salivate.

With the Mexican martini in her grip, with her own in the other, you’re stuck. You didn’t think she’d actually want to have a conversation with you. Leading you out to the balcony, almost the entire view of the city before your very eyes, practically causing you to freeze in your footsteps.

“Wow.” Unable to conceal it, you voice your immediate awe. Abby chuckles, the first sign of sincerity you’ve seen all night. Everything else only seemed as a woman trying to get a needed fuck but right now but she hasn’t even tried to even so much as kiss you. Taking small sips of her whiskey, hip touching yours as the moonlight reflects from the water to her blue eyes, nearly as vivid as the moon itself.

“Yeah, it’s quite a view, think it’s the only thing keeping me coming back here. I’m on the road so much, it’s nice to have some stability.” Abby smiles softly, the confession tumbling from her lips before she can catch it. ”A pretty penny for me to keep it but it’s worth it.”

“Is this your move then?” You know the martini is doing the talking for you, if not you’d be a mumbling mess unable to form one sentence that even sounds remotely coherent. Abby quirks one of her blonde eyebrows upwards but keeps her mouth shut, waiting for you to continue. “Is this what you do with everyone?”

Abby takes a step closer to you, giving you all her attention. She plays with the chain on your neck, pulling it lightly to bring you closer to her. Carefully eyeing you up and down, smirking as she does, “Do you want the truth or do you want me to lie like I do with everyone else?”

It’s more than you expected her to offer. A careless lie would have suited her more. If there is one thing you know for sure, Abby could get anyone she wants and she wouldn’t have brought you here if she didn’t want you to be here.

“Are you capable of the truth? M’not sure you are.” For once, Abby is a bit silent. Carefully, she contemplates on what to say next. She isn’t sure what she should say. Usually she’s the one laying the honey traps for the swarming bees but right now? Abby feels like the control is slipping from her grip.

She can’t have that.

“Which one is going to make that guilt easier on your conscience?” Abby smirks as the shame fills your eyes. “It’s a girlfriend, isn’t it? It always is.” Anyone else would take two steps back, maybe even see themselves out but you want to prove a point.

“I don’t have a girlfriend.” The immediate rejection of your very real girlfriend fills you with even more shame than you know what to do with. Abby chuckles at the omission, the way your voice shrieks out the statement with a sense of urgency. A desperate action to cover the truth. “Sure you don’t.”

“I’m telling the truth!” Your voice raises as you lean into Abby, her firm hands on your waist as you both face each other. Abby nods, tongue poking through her cheek, pulling at your necklace once again. Admiring the curve in the E, the gold chain shining. It’s a pretty necklace, probably one your girlfriend gave you but Abby makes no comment of it.

“Yeah, okay, and I hate pussy.” Abby giggles. You think it’s so cute, it shouldn’t even be funny, but it is. Just like earlier in the night, you’re so close to her, nothing as slim as a sheet of paper could fit in between the two of you. Without even thinking about it, you rest your hand on her abdomen again, her strength tangible as you feel her up once again. Truly, you’re unable to stop touching her. Every part of you wants this to happen, even if it comes back to bite you in the ass, the curiosity and your fluttering cunt can’t really think of anything else.

“You can still walk out that door. Just say the word and my driver will take you home.” Abby whispers into the busy street beneath you, it’s so faint from the distance but the two of you can hear it. “Or you can let me slide your pretty little skirt up and let me make a slut of you, babygirl.”

Maybe it's the alcohol, maybe it’s your throbbing clit, maybe it’s the lack of contact in months, most of all maybe it’s the fact Ellie took so long to reach out, but you give in. Throwing your arms around her neck, pulling her lips to yours, regardless of the possible consequence looming after you, threatening to tear apart the picture perfect life you thought you’re living.

All of it happens in a blink of an eye. Abby’s tongue staking claim, dominating in ways you didn’t know were possible before she’s pushing your front against the balcony, placing your hand on the railing. With ease, she maneuvers your body in just the way she wants. “Gotta tell me yes pretty girl, that’s the only way this is going to start.”

Facing the view, the buzzing city filled with nightlife and wonder, endless possibilities on your fingertips but you’re thinking about her hands. How much you want them inside you, fucking you full, or the strap in her pants you’d be rubbing against earlier. The thoughts of her slipping her cock inside you, claiming you in a way no one has in awhile. Making you feel wanted, needed, even if it was a fleeting feeling just for the night. You deserve it. Just one, stupid, decision — you were owed at least one.

“Yes, s’what I want. You.” That’s all it takes before Abby pushes your skirt to your waist, sliding off your panties as she allows you to step out of them.

“Are you sure?” Abby questions you. She pushes off from you, you hear her zipper being brought down as you look back at her, her vest being chucked to the lawn chair by the pool.

Fuck.

If she’s even half as good as she’s claiming to be, you are so fucked.

“I’m sure.”

Abby wraps her hands around your waist again, hands dipping under your shirt as she squeezes your breasts, teasing your hard nipples with her fingers. You sigh instantly, loving the stimulation she’s providing. You feel the barrel of her tongue piercing as she lightly sucks behind the sweet spot behind your ear, as if Abby's the one to place it there in the first place.

“Good.” Abby teases your entrance with her cock, your body shuddering as it slides over your folds, using your slick as lubricant. Already, you’re grinding against her, just like before as she guides your hips in the pace she likes. “Do you like getting off on my cock, baby?”

“Mhm, yeah, I do.” It’s all but a whisper. Abby still hears you speak, slapping your ass playfully, blunt fingers digging into the skin. She can’t believe anyone not wanting to touch you, not wanting to make you feel good. You’re the hottest person she’s ever fucking seen. Your ass, your tits, the moans spilling from your mouth, it’s been in her filthiest dreams.

“What about now?” Abby lets her cock slip inside you, stretching out your walls as you take everything she has to offer. It’s been so long since you’ve been filled like this, your cunt greedily taking every inch has she slides in further and further. With a tight grip, you hold onto the railing as she thrust with her strong hips forward, your back arching so deep as she places her hand on your lower back, forcing the bend.

“Oh…” Abby grins at your desperate moans, “You really do know how to be a good girl and take it.” Her name falls from your lips like a stuttering prayer, as if she’s the god you’re praising at the altar. With each thrust, Abby back more of her strength into, packing a powerful punch to your cunt. Pulling at the strings, already making you see stars as you take from the angle.

“Fuck!” With no warning, Abby pulls at your hair, your body conforming to her will. She could do as she pleased and you would let her. You wonder if you even had a chance or if this is what was meant to be. Her speed grows rapidly, your stomach doing flips as she penetrates you, fucking you until you’re irrevocably spent.

“See? You’re just a whore. My whore. Got you cock drunk for me. Don’t I?” Abby thumbs with your clit, making you see stars. Lost in the effortlessness of her actions, calloused fingers playing you like her drums set. With ease, from memory she pulled out a performance, just like she did at every show, aiming to please her audience.

“Do you—” Abby draws circles on your puffy clit, your growl as you attempt to push through your words. “Shit, I’m—”

“Hm?” You hear it, the sound of your cunt being fucked blending into the busy street, her hands pulling you on her cock over and over. “Didn’t think I’d take it easy on you now, did you?”

“I just didn’t think you’d actually feel this good.” With one particular hard thrust, Abby has your eyes rolling into the back of your head. Your body begins to shake at her ministrations.

“We’re just getting started but I wanna see that gorgeous face.” She pulls out of you as she sits on the nearest lawn chair, “Hop back on, babygirl, s’all yours to use.” You remove the rest of your clothes, the E chain the only thing adorning your body.

Messily, Abby spits on her large palm, mixing your slick coating her cock making sure she’d be nice and ready for you to slide right back on. You grip her soft, freckled shoulders as she helps guide you, her blue eyes darkening as she sees the bliss written all over your face. Sinking on her cock is a sight Abby wants to replay in her mind, the high pitched moan that releases from your body is food for her soul.

“Fuck yourself on me, babygirl. Mhm, show me how much you need it.” You lean her forehead against yours, look in her beautiful blues, feeling a strange sense of intimacy as she fucks hours brains out. Abby likes the fact you have no idea who she is but you’re riding her like no tomorrow.

When you start bouncing on her cock, Abby loses all coherent thought. Your not so subtle bounce of your tits, she loves them so much she cranes her neck to suck on your nipples, her tongue piercing adding a new sensation, unable to stop your pussy from gushing around her.

“Does your girlfriend fuck you like this? Mhm, I don’t think so. My sweet babygirl, so frustrated, and all you need is some good fucking cock, huh?”

“All I need is you.” Abby thrusts her hips into you, her heavily ring hand slips her pinky ring off, the shimmering gold is placed on your clit, your body jerking from someone so cold on your throbbing bundle of nerves.

“Since you can’t feel the little ball on my tongue right now, I suppose this will have to do.”

“Is that so, baby? Need me?” Abby glances over your shoulder before looking back at you, before she continuously meets the roll of your hips with her thrusts. “Dirty fucking slut, so horny for your cunt to be fucked properly. It’s why you came out tonight, why you got off on my thigh at the bar, why you couldn’t stop looking at me, s’why your hands have been over me all fucking night.”

“Abby, shit, keep talking like that.”

“Hm, you like when I call you my dirty slut? When I tell you how needy you are for me? Bet you would have let me bend you over the bar and fucked you right there.” You’re groaning, you scream her name so loudly, Abby can’t help but grin with a sinister smirk.

“Yes, would let you do anything.” Abby hums approvingly, the cool sensation of her diamond encrusted ring doing wonders to bring you over the edge, “Please, don’t stop. Don’t ever—”

One particular hard thrust has Abby wrapping an arm around your waist, holding you up as your body nearly becomes deadweight, her head making home on your shoulder. It’s when she steps into the light, met with Abby’s darkness. The night she had perfectly curated to fully benefit her, the strategic planning of a rotten apple, split right down the middle when push came to shove.

—

Three Months Prior…

“You said you would tell her.” The frustration written all over Abby’s face, her voice only raising an octave higher. Abby has never been so disgusted with herself, stopping so low, thinking she would get chosen over the long term girlfriend.

Stupid.

“I know what I said. I’m telling you, I can’t.” Ellie pinches the bridge of her button nose, trying to concentrate as Abby makes no move to do anything else but continue to fuck Ellie’s cunt.

“Oh no?” Abby slips a third finger in her pussy as she shoves her face between her slender thighs. “You don’t wanna tell her why you won’t fuck her anymore? All the light night calls with your manager are flights to come to my penthouse and get your pussy fucked out?”

Her tongue dips into Ellie’s pussy, she flattens her pierced tongue, the cool golden ball adding stimulation to the weeping woman’s clit, her body jerking at the action. “She’s too fucking good for you.” The speed of the bigger girl’s fingers send Ellie into godspeed, flirting with another dimension as she allows Abby to play tricks on her pussy.

The reason she comes back, no one makes her cum like she does, not even you. Abby wants more but Ellie refuses to give it, not willing to leave you even if you know what she’s been doing, all the lies she’s told in order to fuck Abby, you’d never look her way again. “She can't do this though? It’s why you keep coming back, you need my fingers stuffed in your pussy.” Abby’s fingers are reaching so deep, kissing Ellie’s cervix as she grips onto her wrist, bucking her hips up into the rockstar’s fingers.

“Maybe I should give them to her instead. I’m sure she would be more grateful.” Abby spits sloppily on Ellie’s pussy, kitten licking her clit until she sucks it in her mouth, tongue rapidly flicking over her bundle of nerves. Abby tsks, “Selfish slut, cum on daddy’s tongue like you fucking mean it.”

Like the greedy whore she is, Ellie squirts into Abby’s mouth and the blonde doesn’t waste a single moment, she slurps obnoxiously on Ellie’s cunt. “Fucking whore.” Her tongue flattens as he licks from her puckered hole to her clit, every drop dispersing into mouth.

Ellie’s entire body shakes, barely registering when Ellie throws on a robe, leaving it open and she lights up a cigarette on the balcony of her bedroom. Ellie whines for Abby.

“This was the last time.” With a flip of a switch, Abby’s tone changes, her cunt with her blonde pubes making her pussy appear even more irresistible, all she wanted was to get on her knees for Abby, repay the favor but the stoic look on her face tells her she won’t be getting anywhere near her tonight.

She exhales a puff of smoke, her sun kissed skin reflecting off the moonlight, every defined line of muscle making her even more beautiful. “But why? Did you suddenly grow a conscience?”

“No but I’m not interested in being someone’s side piece. I’m the main fucking show.” Abby shrugs her shoulders matter of factly, “Show yourself out, Williams.”

—

The memory flashes before Abby’s eyes, she’s sure it’s crossing Ellie’s mind, her worst nightmare playing in front of her. Her girlfriend, screaming her mistress’s name, as she clings onto Abby like a second life line. The look of horror in her emerald eyes, she would know your body everywhere, it’s you.

“All mine, my pretty pussy baby, m’babygirl gonna cum soon? yeah? can you do that for me?” Every word spoken was salt in the wound, smearing in as Ellie stood frozen still. The text was deliberately sent tonight for her own demise. Using Ellie’s needy nature against her, but it seems someone else was quite needy, but fuck was she prettier.

Ellie is a fucking idiot, Abby thought.

Knowing how much she loved it, Abby brought her finger to her mouth, sucking on the digit, then she teases your puckered hole and you’re begging to convulse. Letting yourself be held by Abby, but your hips don’t stop moving.

No.

You’re fucking yourself even harder on her.

“Mommy, please? Make me cum, fuck, need to cum all over your cock. Gonna dump her for you, please. I’ll do anything you want, just don’t stop, don’t ever stop.” With her finger only slightly slipping into your ass, you see pull on her golden waves, allowing yourself to slip into the hold of rotten intentions. Ellie has seen enough as she slams the door on her way out but you’re too fucked out to even clock it.

“Good girl. Let it go. Mommy’s got you. Mhm, give it all to me, baby.” When she’s don’t fucking you into another dimension, Abby lays back on the chair, feeling quite satisfied with her successful plot of revenge.

Even better, she has you.

You fall on top of her, still stuffed full, when she finds sucking on her nipples. Your tongue toying with the barbell, pushing and pulling as Abby takes a sharp intake of breath.

“Sorry, I've been wanting to do that all night.” You giggle lightly, Abby drawing random patterns on your exposed back. She doesn’t feel an ounce of guilt as she lets you suck on her tits, marking her porcelain skin. You’re already more of a giver than Ellie, she smiles at the thought.

“Don’t have to apologize. Never going to say no to a beautiful girl sucking my tits.”

She’s entirely mesmerized by you, in ways she hasn’t been before. Truthfully, she almost came from seeing you cum. Never in her life has someone brought her so close without having her pussy in their mouth. “Do you want the driver to take you home or do you want to go for round two? I’d like to fuck you on my bed, feel your dripping cunt on mine, make you forget about that pathetic girlfriend of yours.”

You forget she’s still inside you because you sit up fully and you’re moaning, again.

“I’d like that but let me give you another ride, yeah?”

Unbeknownst to you, the rotten apple lays beneath you, the same E chain hidden beneath the countless chains adorning her neck but sometimes they can taste just as divine as the sweet one. Sour or sweet? That’s for you to decide.

Bloody, intentional, reckless — Abby Anderson has brought it all.

Showing Ellie just how sweet something rotten could really be if preserved for someone else.

reblogs and extra thots are appreciated! hope you enjoyed ♡

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a-b-riddle · 6 months ago

Text

Part 9 (unrevised version). Since I've gotten 6 messages and a good bit of asks requesting to view it. Here it is, not in its final form.

You had hoped Monday would have treated you better than the past two days, but walking up to your shop in the pouring rain to already see a body standing outside waiting wasn't a good sign.

Customers who waited outside your shop always made you feel uncomfortable. But when you finally got close enough, you took in the person before you.

"We don't open for another hour." Your voice flat as you fished for your keys.

"I'll wait." Was Kyle's reply.

"Then you'll have to do it outside." You said, the key sliding into the lock. He didn't argue as you shut the door behind you. Didn't even bother knocking when, after thirty minutes, you looked in the window to see that the wind was causing the rain to blow sideways.

You relented. Letting him in thirty minutes earlier. It was a small mercy, even if he was soaked to the bone. You almost felt bad when his chattering teeth were the only thing you could hear.

Almost.

"I take it John told you about our little talk yesterday." You said, going about your business. Engaging in the conversation as if you were talking about the shitty weather that had tried to drown him.

"He did." He gave a sniffle. Running a hand over his beautiful, wet face. Droplets still staking their claim on his skin. "H-he alssso t-t-told us we were on our own in begging for our own f-forgiveness. Ra-ra- rightly s-s-s-so."

You huffed. Guilt beginning to eat at you before you turned, disappearing to the back of the store and coming back with a shirt and a blanket. "You left the shirt here."

He had no shame and wasted no time in taking off his jacket and soaked shirt. His chiseled body exposed to you. It was almost instinct to reach out and touch the soft skin. You luckily possessed some form of self restraint.

"So are you here to promise to make amends as well?" You crossed your arms. You meant it as a sign that you were wanting to create distance, but honestly you didn't trust yourself. It was second nature. Kyle and Johnny were tied when it came to having to always touch you.

Probably why his ghosting sucked so bad.

"I'd like to take you out." You couldn't help the laugh that escaped you. It wasn't until Kyle's face fell that you realized, "Oh, you're actually serious."

He opened his mouth, ready to no doubt give you the same exact promises of doing better that John had given you the day before. Fortunately for Kyle, you didn't have the time to entertain a conversation.

"Fine." You immediately relented. No argument. "That Indian place where I asked you to go four months ago. Seven. If you manage to figure out which place, then I'll be meeting you there. Otherwise you'll be eating alone."

Kyle stood still. Unprepared for the fact that you had... agreed. You actually agreed to let him take you out.

"I can pick you up."

"Not sure what time I'll be getting off today. Might go home first. Might just go straight there." You started opening tasks again. "I have to finish setting up. Seven sharp.

"Seven sharp." He repeated, his smile lighting up the room.

It made you feel sick.

It was 6:45 when your phone started ringing. It was Kyle. Confirming that he was at the restaurant you were supposed to go.

7:00. He had gotten the two of you a table. He'll go ahead and order you a drink. They had mango lassi, but wasn't sure if you wanted to stick to just water.

7:15 He tries calling you. When it goes to voicemail, a follow up text is sent asking if you're okay.

At 7:20, while sitting on the couch you text back. Sorry. Something came up. We'll reschedule, I promise.

If you knew giving them a taste of their own medicine felt so good, you would have done it ages ago. You felt no since of shame in sending it. You hated being petty, but you wanted them to know what it felt like.

John had a lot more of verbal outbursts coming his way and if Johnny was hoping for a chance, he would be lucky if you had sex with him again before marriage.

Ten minutes later, on the dot, there was a knocking on your door. Your food had arrived. Blindly, you opened the door. Only instead of the take out you had delivered, Kyle stood there. Yet again soaked to the bone and this time out of breath.

"How did you know I was here?" Was the first thing that had come into your mind. If anything, he would have went by the shop first, but no. He came here. You weren't the type to deviate from a schedule, but christ. Simon at your date and then the club. John at the shop on your day off. Now this. "I swear to fucking god this fucking stalking-"

"Easy now, Love. No one's stalking you." Bullshit.

Absolute bullshit. They were military. Really important and special connections type of military, but this was bullshit. They were keeping tabs on you somehow.

"I know for a fucking fact that place is only ten minutes away. So you didn't have time to check out my store-- where I should be-- before coming here. So I'm going to ask you again, how did you know I was here?"

"Okay," he shrugged. "Stalking. We're stalking you." Kyle was lying. We he nodded like a bobblehead, you knew whatever was coming out of his mouth was bullshit. The first time you confirmed it was after Johnny had volunteered to make haggis. Kyle told him it was good, no doubt hoping to spare his feelings.

"Kyle." You warned, eyes narrowed and teeth clenched. He paused as if trying to form another lie, but coming up short. Sighing in defeat, he confessed.

"Blocking us didn't stop you from sharing your location." In that moment, you could have strangled him. They had been still using your location. Something you had given them as a way to find you if you ever needed help. Now those assholes were using it for their own benefit.

"Son of a-" you shut your mouth. "I can't do this with you right now, okay?" You didn't confess that your publisher had asked for a last minute zoom call in the middle of your busiest work hour to see how you felt about doing a few meet and greets, all expenses paid.

Good news, but still... overwhelming. You still felt like an imposter. That you didn't deserve the hype you were getting. Your story wasn't that good. Your characters didn't hold much depth.

"Everything okay?" You didn't want to tell him. Didn't want to give him the chance to offer the reassurance you desperately needed for something he had no idea about.

"Why?" You asked, changing the subject. "I just want to know why? With John I get that the job gets stressful and needing someone to take-"

"No," he finished. "That's not an excuse. It's a reason. Not an excuse." His jaw clenched. "There is no excuse for how any of us treated you."

"Then what was your reason?" you asked. "I'm finding it very hard that someone who quite actively avoided me suddenly wants to get back together."

"I slacked off?" He shrugged. "I figured there were four of us and if I wasn't able to be there, it wouldn't make a difference."

"If you're just going to lie, Kyle, there is no point in continuing this conversation." You go to close the door only for his hand to stop you.

He stands there, looking at the ground. Even from the this angle you can see him take his bottom lip between his teeth.

He's nervous.

You step back. Giving him the option of coming in and saying it is whatever it is he needs to stay. He may be an ass like the rest of them, but this isn't exactly a conversation you want to have in the hallway for your nosey neighbors to hear.

He takes the silent invitation. Walking in and not speaking until you click the door shut. "You want the truth?" His voice is soft, but there is something else behind it. Anger?

"No," you say sardonically. "Please. Lie to me." He sighed, but didn't say anything. You were exhausted. The past few days had been a back-to-back rollercoaster of emotions. You were drained. You didn't have it in you for this right now. "Kyle-"

"I thought you only kept asking because you felt bad for me." He said the words so quickly, it took you a moment to process them. He thought.... you felt bad for him? "Like you were still trying to include me even if you didn't want to."

"Why?" Was the only thing you could come up with. You didn't have the energy to try to come up with your own reasoning for his admission.

"Don't think I don't know how I am compared to the them." He scoffed. You always knew the hierarchy of their work, even if you didn't know all the details. John was at the top. Captain and head bitch in charge. Simon was the lieutenant with Johnny and Kyle as Sergeants. Kyle was the youngest of the group by two years, but still. What was there to compare?

"So you're not a Captain or Lieutenant?" you shrug. "Johnny is the same rank as you. And you are the youngest and I'm sure with time you'll get to a position-"

"Black!" He said. "I'm black. I am the only fucking black guy not only in this relationship. I'm the only black guy in the 141, in the unit."

When it came to Kyle, black was the last thing you thought of. You thought of his soft brown eyes or house his hands felt so smooth against your body. How his smile could light up the room and how beautiful, how head-turning gorgeous he was. "I'm just an after thought in everything else regarding the 141, why would you be any different?"

"Ky," you were going to be sick. Was this how he really felt? With you? With the others? With work? "You know I don't feel that way, right?"

"Do you remember that time we went out? That french place?" How could you forget. The maître d' had asked Kyle to put a card on a tab before the two of you were even seated. At first you thought it was preposterous. Why would you make patrons at a fine dining restaurant do that? This wasn't a pub for Christ sakes. Kyle told you not to worry about it and handed over a card.

The two of you never went back.

"Oh my god." It dawned on you. "When they asked for your card..."

"I..." he sucked in a breath. Trying to keep his composure. "It was fucking humiliating. I was a man dressed to the fucking nines with a gorgeous girl on my arm and before I even got the chance to blow my money, I was treated like I couldn't afford it. It wasn't because of what I was wearing or who I was with. It was because of me. Of who I was. Who I am."

"Kyle," words escaped you. Nothing in that moment to reassure him that it never dawned on you. That it stupidly never dawned on you how there were times that people did look at him different. You wanted to tell him that it didn't matter. That you were just as important and lovable and respectable as the others. That you loved him just as much. Words failed you. All you could say say was, "I'm so sorry."

He swallowed, before taking in harsh breath through his nose. "It's not an excuse. I got wrapped up in my own stupid fucking head about how other people looked at me, I forgot it only mattered how you did."

"And you did." You said, aching to reach out. To touch him. Offer some comfort. Hating that he ever felt like he wasn't enough. Knowing the feeling all too well. Even if he was the one to make you feel it. "You did matter to me."

"I know." He said. You were thankful he said it clearly. Not shrugging his shoulders or nodding his head as he spoke. "I'll do anything to matter to you again." He took your hands in his, even though they had ached to hold you closer. But he knew not to test his luck. "If you want to press restart and let's take it back to the very beginning, I'll do that. I will court you and woo you and make you fall in love with me all over again because I will never fall out with you. I can't."

You weren't prepared for this. You had prepared to leave Kyle waiting in a restaurant alone. Now your heart ached in your chest at the idea of letting him ever think he wasn't enough because of the color of his skin.

"It doesn't have to be now or tomorrow or next week or next fucking month." He squeezed your hands the same way had John had. With the exact same intensity and promise. "Just let me try again. I won't let you down this time. I'll put in the work."

"I don't want you to feel like you have to work to make this relationship work, Kyle." You protest, wanting to pull your hands away. Free from the spell his touch had seem to be putting you under.

He smiled. Not enough to show off his teeth, but enough where have of his face lifted up. "It's not the type of work with long hours and a shit commute. Loving you is the same kind of work an artist puts into making a masterpiece. Pouring everything into it and getting something beautiful in return."

Before you could comprehend it, your face was wet. "Kyle." Your lips quivered, a sob threatening to come out. "I never felt like I needed to spend time with you, Ky." You sniffled. "I fucking wanted to. I missed you." You were so close. You needed to reel it in. Get it together.

"I just didn't understand how you could." His confession broke any restraint you had. Your hand flew to your mouth, trying to subdue your cries. When Kyle pulled you to his chest, his arms wrapping around you, you allowed yourself to crumble.

Not even for yourself, but for him.

For the kind heart you now knew broke with every sideways glance from passer-byes. For the hateful and prejudice world you lived in and for how they could overlook such a wonderful man just because of something as basic as the color of his skin.

You weren't sure how long you stood crying. You weren't certain if the knock on the door behind him actually happened or something your mind had conjured to try and pull you from your fit.

Eventually you did pull away from him. Your face covered in snot and tears. Seeing that you still were in need of it, Kyle pulled you back to him, only this time your face wasn't buried into his shirt.

You stood there. His arms wrapped around your back while yours found their home around his waist.

"I used to love when you would come back to my place directly from base as soon as you got back from a deployment." You said, breaking the silence. "I would be waiting like a kid on Christmas waiting to see what trinket made you think of me. You made me feel like even though we were so far away, you still thought about me."

"Always." He said, before his lips pressed against the top of your head. "Not a day I didn't miss being here with you."

The two of you eventually settled down on the couch. Both on opposite ends with a hot cup of tea in your hands and the array of take out containers half empty. You had planned for a night of eating your feelings so there was luckily enough food for two.

"I don't want to say no." You admitted. "But I need time. Before I even think about saying yes to all of this again."

"Not all of this," he reminded. "Just me. I'm doing my part in groveling, let the others figure it out. Or at least that's just what Price told us. Although you would be doing all of us a favor if you talked to Johnny?" Your ears perked up. You hadn't seen or heard from Johnny since Friday.

"What's wrong with Johnny?" You asked.

"Lad didn't cope well with you going on your date." Not that you had fucked him and said it was a mistake.... or maybe he kept that tidbit to himsle.f

"It wasn't a-" you started.

"I know," he said. "Simon happened to be nearby." You shot him a look, letting him know you weren't buying that lie, before he continued. "But he didn't. Fuck you're lucky we were able to drag him out of your apartment before you got back and he made an even bigger fool of himself."

"What are you talking about?" You asked. "What do you mean by drag?"

"Johnny called Simon. Told him you were on a date and to bring your ass back. Although you had made it a point to fuck him and leave-- absolutely no judgement, by the way-- he was going to make it a point to never leave your bed."

"My top sheet..." You had come home to your comforters and pillows on the floor. When making up your bed, the top sheet was missing. You had just assumed you didn't put it on or maybe it was in the wash.

"Refused to put his clothes back on. Me and John couldn't risk carrying a naked, screaming Scot through the streets without making a spectical. So we rolled him up and carried him of like a rug. A very heavy, squirmy rug."

"Oh," your hand flew to your chest. "Johnny." He was the bleeding heart of the group so you weren't exactly surprised. He was also the one who blew up shit, so he was definitely one for dramatics. "So that's how Simon figured out about dinner. But the drinks-"

"Whenever Simon is home, he's your shadow. The only time we don't worry about you is when we know he's with you." That made you roll your eyes.

"You act like he's my guard dog."

"He is."

"Is not." You defended, your conversation from Saturday night coming back to you.

"You're not my body guard, Simon." You snapped.

"Not trying to be," he said. "I was never trying to be."

"He's not." you said again.

"You're right." Kyle relented, shrugging his fucking shoulders.

"You're saying that like you're just not trying to argue with me." He took a sip of your tea. "Kyle!" He sighed before looking at you as if the last thing he wanted to do was continue on the subject.

"He is." He said. "Your guard dog."

"I mean he protects me, but all of you do." He shakes his head, a huff of air going out of his nose, almost amused.

"Not like Simon." He admits it almost as if he were ashamed. "I want to say something." He said it as if he were preparing you for the next words to come out of his mouth would change the course of the night. "I need to say it because it would make me less of a man and even less of a friend if I didn't. But I don't want you to hate me or yourself for it."

Why would you hate yourself for it?

"Fine." you agreed, giving him permission to continue. "I won't hold it against you."

"You were always the one to coordinate things to do. One-on-one dates. Helping John with paperwork when shit got to crazy and you were the only one the uptight asshole would let touch his files." You gave a small smile remembering how John had barked at a recruit to get the fuck out of his office before peppering you with kisses at your arrival. Giving small pecks of appreciation as he explained what he needed you to do and how to do it.

"Helping me after my shoulder injury and staying on my ass about the physical therapy."

"Well someone had to." You countered.

"This past Christmas when Johnny needed to get his sisters gifts so you made a whole day out of it going to see lights and ice skating." Johnny was the proud owner of a freshly bruised tailbone after landing flat on his ass and swearing off skating for the rest of his life. Feckin' ice.

"Okay?" You asked, not really sure where Kyle was headed for this. He had pointed out what a good girlfriend you were, had been. How you had always tried to be helpful and do whatever needed to help your boys out.

He stopped. He looked at you as if he were debating to tell you what he had warned you about. He looked down at the floor before taking his bottom lip in between his teeth.

"Fuck." He muttered.

"Spit it out, Kyle!" You whined, now clueless to what point he was trying to make by all the examples of what a good girlfriend you had been.

He looked at you with the same solemness that a friend looked at another friend before having to call them out on their shit, knowing that the pill they were about to be given would be a hard one to swallow.

"You never did that with Simon."

#simon ghost riley #call of duty #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #angst #john soap mactavish #angst with a happy ending #grovel

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theosbaby · 8 months ago

Text

sundress

theodore nott x fem!reader

masterlist

summary; you wear a new sundress to your date with theo, knowing that he loves them on you, and he cannot resist the temptation.

warnings; google translated italian, dom!theo, sub!reader, SMUT without a plot, public sex, praising, pet names, lots of kissing and groping, choking, neck grabbing, hair pulling, fingering, heavy dirty talk, p in v, unprotected sex, breeding kink... overall, pure filth.

author's note; english isn't my first language, so you might find mistakes. "helping hand" has reached over a 1.000 notes, TYSM! i'm so happy! hope you enjoy this 🤍

you were trying to hold back your playful giggles as theo pushed you inside the three broomsticks bathroom, his large hand covering your mouth to muffle your cute little laugh so that the rest of customers didn't hear you both sneaking into the ladies restroom.

'what had brought you two there?' you might be wondering... well, that's actually a really short story.

as every saturday, theo and you were in hogsmeade, having a date. it was may, the weather was warm and the sun was shining in the sky, so you had decided to put on a new sundress that your mother had bought you for your birthday a few weeks ago —knowing that theo loved seeing you in that kind of clothing.

the dress was white, with a flared skirt and a corseted body which ended in a low and flattering neckline. it made your body look stunning and theo had almost gone crazy when he saw you earlier; the soft fabric hugging your curves, bringing out the light tan of your skin... he had been literally drooling over you the entire date, and now, he couldn't hold back anymore: he needed to fuck you.

and he couldn't wait until you both were back at hogwarts.

he kicked the bathroom door shut behind you both while peppering kisses along your slender neck, gently sucking and biting your skin to mark you all over; at the same time, his hands groped your body almost desperately.

"you look so fucking beautiful today," theo whispered in your ear.

he tugged at your earlobe between his lips before turning you around to push you against the sink and you hissed when your body hit the cold hard marble kind of roughly.

you chuckled, tilting your head to the side to kiss his cheek as you tangled your fingers in his light brown curls, his hands grasping at your slim waist.

"just today?" you whispered back teasingly, looking up at him with a smirk on your red painted lips.

he chuckled lowly, pressing himself against you as he slipped his hands underneath the hem of your dress to run his hands over the smooth skin of your legs slowly, pulling the fabric up just enough to expose a sliver of bare thigh.

"always beautiful, but today... fuck," he muttered, nuzzling his nose against yours; the smell of his cologne filled your nostrils, making you feel light-headed, "this bloody dress is driving me fucking crazy, cara mia."

"i knew you'd love it..." you couldn't help but giggle against his lips, giving gim a chaste peck before pulling back slightly. "i put in on just for you," you murmured, kissing his neck softly; your red lipstick left a faint stain on his flesh.

theodore smirked, his hands sliding up your thighs to cup your bare ass through the laced fabric of your panties.

"you're a fucking tease, do you know that?" he groaned before leaning in to claim your crimson lips in a scorching kiss.

your eyes fluttered shut, your body melting into his arms at the intimate contact, which made you gasp against his eager mouth. your lips brushed together in a mind-blowing dance while you ran your fingers through his soft hair absentmindedly.

theo broke the kiss just a moment later only to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking at your sensitive skin as his fingers worked to lift your dress higher up, until it was pooling around your waist, his body still pinning you against the sink.

"i need you," he whispered in your ear, his voice thick with desire, "need to fuck you so badly, principessa."

you gasped once again when he pressed his hardening cock against your pelvis, grinding against you in slow motions. you grasped at the sink countertop, your head falling back as he placed wet kisses all the way down to your cleavage.

theo groaned at the sight of your perfect breasts almost spilling out of the neckline of your dress and his hand cupped one of them through the thin fabric, squeezing it tenderly.

"sei bellisima, amore mio," he muttered in italian, his lips pressing against yours hungrily once again. (you're beautiful, my love)

you whimpered into the kiss, feeling your wetness start to pool around in your panties as his thumb toyed with your perky nipple over your clothes until it hardened; your shuddered in his arms.

"theo, please," you stuttered into his lips, words coming out as broken sobs.

theo broke the kiss, his eyes darkening with lust as he looked down at you while his other hand slipped between your legs. his fingers traced along the damp fabric of your panties, feeling how wet you were for him.

"merlin... you're fucking soaked, principessa," he growled, his fingers teasingly brushing against your clit.

you moaned at his action, but quickly nipped at your plump bottom lip to try and hold back any sound that may escape your mouth, not wanting anyone outside the bathroom to hear you... though the thrill of getting caught was indeed turning you on.

theo withdrew his hand and kneeled in front of you, fingers gripping at the waistband of your panties to slid them down your legs while he peppered wet kisses all over your belly and hip bones, slowly moving down.

"we have to make this quick, bella," he whispered, placing one last kiss at your smooth mound as he looked up at you with those deep set eyes of his. "but i promise i'll eat your pretty little pussy later on, yeah?"

the smirk he gave you while he stood up made you weak on your knees. he pulled you into a kiss, hands groping at your thighs and ass cheeks avidly as he practically devoured your mouth —at that point, your red lipstick was smudged all over your faces. he grabbed your wrist to guide your hand towards his crotch and you palmed him delicately, feeling his hard dick twitch at your touch.

theo groaned against your lips, breath hitching in his throat. his hand released your wrist and slid between your legs once more, this time slipping two digits inside of you, gently stretching your tight hole.

"fuck... so wet for me," he whispered against your mouth, teeth tugging at your already swollen bottom lip. "you're fucking dripping onto my fingers, principessa."

his free hand wrapped around your neck, choking you lightly while he moved his digits in and out of you in scissor motions to prepare you for his cock. you gasped for air, letting out a needy cry as you worked to unfasten his belt with shaky hands.

"need your cock, theo... please," you breathed out, cheeks flushed.

theo's hand released your neck, his fingers withdrawing from your pussy to help you slide his pants and boxers down; his throbbing cock sprung free, standing tall against his flat stomach, and your mouth watered at the sight. after that, he grabbed your hips, turning your around and pushing you forward until you were bent over the countertop.

"keep your eyes on me, amore mio," he commanded, his voice rough.

he grasped your hair, tugging at it to pull your head back until your eyes met his on the mirror. his rough grip made you whine and you writhed when you felt the tip of his cock brushing along your slick folds, teasing you.

"theo, please," you whimpered desperately.

he positioned the head of his cock at your entrance, slowly pushing inside while his free hand found purchase at your hip. he groaned loudly, the feeling of your tight heat welcoming him nearly overwhelming.

"so big, oh merlin," you whined at the stretch, letting out a little cry that echoed through the bathroom.

"oh fuck... I love being inside you," he murmured, his eyes piercing yours through the mirror. "che piccola figa così stretta... all fucking mine," he grunted, starting to pound into you. (such a tight little pussy)

you reached to cover your mouth with one of your hands, your palm muting the moans that inevitably left your lips when he began to fuck you against the sink roughly. your other hand gripped at his thigh, your nails digging into his flesh, and you couldn't help but close your eyes tightly, face contorted in pleasure.

he released your hair and his fingers curled around your throat instead, applying light pressure as he groaned; his digits dug into your skin, leaving bright red fingerprints on it.

"look at me while i fuck you," he ordered, forcing you to open your glazed eyes and look at him through the mirror.

his grip tightened on your throat as he slammed his hips against your ass, his cock buried balls deep inside your cunt and hitting all the right spots within you. the mirror reflected his flushed face, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead and eyes locked onto yours as he took what he wanted from you, making a moaning mess out of you; thankfully, your hand covering your mouth muffled the sounds.

"damn it... so fucking tight," he moaned, picking up the pace of his thrusts, "pussy feels so good around my cock." he leaned down, his lips meeting your ear as he whispered his filth into it.

he left a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses all over your neck while his cock made you see stars, his free hand finding its way between your shaky legs to rub your puffy clit, causing you to squirm.

"you love this, huh?" he taunted, smirking against your flesh, "you love it when i'm rough with you, don't you, principessa?"

his hand slid up from your neck to grab your hand and pull it away from your mouth, pinning it behind your back, so that you could answer him. though you struggled to do it; the way he was rocking his hips caused his cock to rub against your g-spot with every single thrust, making you feel like your insides were being torn apart in the best way possible.

"hmm, yeah," you cried out in response, "love it when you fuck me hard."

his lips captured yours again and your walls clenched around him as you moaned into his lips, the kiss muting the sounds of your pleasure. you felt the coil in your belly tightening and your clit pulsed underneath his fingertips, signaling your impending orgasm. he broke the kiss, his eyes dark and hungry as he looked down at you.

"you close, bella? he panted, slapping your ass hard enough to sting.

you nodded in response, blubbering incoherent words, unable to form any sentence as he ruined your cunt.

"that's it, baby... cum for me," he grunted, pushing deeper and harder, the sink creaking due to his harsh thrusts. "i want to see your pretty eyes roll back into your head when you cum on my cock."

his filthy words triggered your orgasm.

he watched with satisfaction as your eyes indeed rolled back, your back arching and nails digging into your skin as you covered your mouth once again, trying to silence the moans and cries that slipped from your lips.

"such a mess... so fucking beautiful," he praised.

he bit down softly on his lip before letting out a rough, guttural groan, the feeling of your cunt engulfing his cock too much for him too handle.

"i'm gonna cum inside you," he warned, "gonna breed this tight little pussy, amore."

you let out a whiny moan, your breathing coming out in sharp pants as your walls clamped around his cock in response to his dirty words.

"you want that, huh?" he mocked you, his hand grasping and pulling at your hair to push you back onto his chest. "want me to make you pregnant with my fucking child?"

"yeah," you whimpered pathetically, "want to carry your child, theodore nott."

"fuck," he cursed, letting out a long, low moan as he unloaded his cum inside you, the warm sticky liquid filling your pussy. "buona ragazza," he whispered, wrapping his arms around you to keep you from collapsing. (good girl)

your legs were completely shaky, making it hard for you to stand up, so you supported yourself on the countertop as you felt him pulling out slowly, his cum dripping out of your abused cunt.

he placed sweet kisses over your back and shoulders as you recovered from your orgasm, whispering soothing things to you while he grabbed his wand to mutter a cleansing spell and get you both all cleaned up.

after composing yourselves, the both of you walked out of the bathroom quietly to not grab any undesired attention, unluckily, pansy parkinson was waiting out of the bathroom, arms crossed and smug grin tugging at her lips; you blushed.

"finally," she claimed, laughing, "you two had fun in there?"

"shut up, parkinson!" theo shouted, grabbing your hand and hurriedly guiding you outside of the three broomsticks.

'we sure as hell did, pansy', you thought as you both walked away.

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latenightdaydreams · 2 months ago

Note

Thinking about werewolf König. Maybe you're new to town, and he's just like, yep, that one's mine.

WereWolf!König x New!Girl

MDNI🔞

Part 2

Master List✍🏽

>cw:fem/afab, werewolf, forceful, oral, p in v, knotty

1.9k word count

🐺

König has lived in the same town for the last twenty years. He knows everyone by name and smell, blending in seamlessly, he appears as if he is like any other human. Living in such a small town has made it easier to hide away from others. However, today when one his weekly grocery run to the local store; a sweet smell lingers in the air.

He swallows hard and tries to act casual as his eye darts everywhere trying to pinpoint the new smell. As he enters the store, the smell seems to only grow stronger, nearly making a growl slip from his chest. That’s when his pale blue eyes lock on to you; a bright smiling face standing behind the cash register. It takes everything in him to control his primal side that is crying out to just take you now.

König averts his gaze and just continues to shop as he normally would. No matter how hard he may try, he cannot escape your smell that fills his nostrils. You’re already consuming him completely and he doesn’t even know your name. Once his things are gathered, he approaches the register, feeling as if he’s stalking prey.

“König!” The voice of the store owner interrupts his thoughts.

“Hey, Frank.” König tries his best to maintain a calm demeanor with you so close.

“It’s good to see you!” Frank holds his hand out to shake with König. He looks over his shoulder to you at the counter. “The new cashier is my wife’s niece. She’s new so be nice.” He nudges König playfully.”

König smiles and nods while his eyes shift back to you. You’re not paying attention to them as you help the next customer in line. The way you move is hypnotic, making it difficult for him to even remain in this conversation.

“Don’t worry about me, Frank. I’ll be nice.” So nice.

Frank chuckles and nods, “Well, I have to go help unload a truck. It was good to see you.”

König nods and watches Frank walk away before turning his gaze back to you. He stands in line behind a mother and child. The closer he gets the more intoxicating it all is. All he can envision is having you under him as he buries his face into your neck, claiming you as his mate.

“Hello!” You greet him as he walks up in line, placing his items down for you to scan.

“Hallo, I’m König. I’m friends with your uncle.”

“Oh! It’s nice to meet you. I’m y/n.” You smile at him, noticing how intense his blue eyes seem to be.

“Beautiful name. How long are you staying?”

“Oh, I don’t know yet. Maybe until the new year?”

That’s not enough. The holidays are only a few months away, he couldn’t possibly find and lose his mate in only a matter of a few months. Instantly, his mind begins to speed run ideas on how to get you to stay here, stay with him.

“Well, it is a lovely area. Hopefully you fall in love.” König smiles at you, allowing his eyes to drift down to your body in that apron wrapped tightly around your curvy form. “Are you staying with Frank?”

“Yeah, I am. I couldn’t find anything to rent, only buy.”

“Ja, there isn’t much real estate around here.” He chuckles as he watches you bag his items.

König reaches into his pocket and grabs his wallet, getting cash out and handing it to you. Your much smaller cold hands caress his rough warm hands. The way you feel so impossibly soft only tempts him even more. There is no way he can let you go, you’re his.

“It was nice to meet you, y/n. I hope to see you around.”

“Thanks.” You say back in a cheery tone, fidgeting with your hair slightly as you lock eyes with him.

As König turns to walk out of the store he takes one more deep breath, wishing to savor this scent forever. With a sting in his heart, he walks away from you and leaves back to his car. For a moment he lingers, deciding what to do before pulling away and driving home.

The rest of your shift goes on as normal, nothing really eventful happening. It’s your second day on the job and everyone that you’ve met has been extremely kind. Your uncle Frank leaves you to close up by yourself, he knows that you’re responsible enough to handle that. By the time the store closes the sun has set.

You grab your bag from the locker in the back before leaving with the store key in hand. As you leave, you lock the door and turn to walk towards your car. Your eyes are drawn to the clear night sky. The moon is bright and illuminating the sky as the stars shimmer brightly; it’s such a beautiful calm night. Then you hear a twig snap.

You freeze, looking out into the darkness towards the trees. Being a city dweller, the darkness can be incredibly intimidating to you. Uncle Frank promised you that any deadly animal has been hunted out by previous generations, so if anything, it’s probably a raccoon. Right?

Not wanting to stick around to find out, you walk forward quickly with your car key in your hands and ready to get in. The second you turn the corner of the small building your eyes lock onto glowing yellow eyes. You freeze as your mind attempts to make sense of what it’s seeing. A low growl emanates from the creature triggering your fight or flight.

Quick on your feet, you run forward towards your car. That’s when the creature took off too, directing itself right at you. A scream leaves you as adrenaline crashes over your body, unable to remain calm.

König can’t help himself as he charges at you. His claws grab onto the fabric of your purse as you open your door. He throws you off balance, causing you to fall into your passenger seat on your knees. Another low growl leaves him as he wraps his hands around your waist holding you there.

You flail and scream at first until you realize that you aren’t being attacked. Not only that, but the hands are hands not paws. Is this a wolf? Or a sick joke?

“Please don’t hurt me.” You whisper, hoping whatever it is will understand.

König understands, and he isn’t going to. Not intentionally at least. He presses his cold snout into the crook of your neck and takes a deep inhale, letting his tongue slip out and lick your soft flesh. The smell of arousal hits his nose; you’re actually enjoying this.

He pulls back and begins to pull at your pants, not caring that his sharp claws tear and rip the fabric as he does so. There is only one thing on his mind and he needs it. Only surprised and panicked sounds leave you, yet you aren’t doing much to stop him. He wonders if you know that you belong to him, if you can feel it too.

You feel the night's cold air breeze across your bare bottom as he tears your bottoms off completely. Looking over your shoulder you finally get a good look at the creature. The realization makes you feel as if you’re going to faint, this can’t truly be happening. This man…wolf? The word werewolf of course comes to mind but that just seems too ridiculous.

König sniffs down your body, leaving chills in his wake as his cold nose presses against different parts of your body. He pushes you forward and he drops his face lower towards your supple ass and wet pussy. Eagerly, he presses his nose between your legs. You let out a loud gasp as he continues to breathe you in deeply. His tongue comes out and laps across your core, tasting you.

Your fingers dig into the cushion of your passenger seat as your legs shake from the feeling of his tongue. His hands grab on to your ass, spreading your cheeks apart to give himself more room. You can feel his tongue slip into your entrance and wiggle around as your eyes close tightly. It feels wrong, but you can’t help but to give into how amazing it is.

When he pulls back there is a small line of spit connecting the tip of his tongue to you still. He goes back in for a few more tastes before mounting you. His hands press on your middle back, forcing you to arch your back more as his massive and erect cock desperately seeks your cunt.

Once König feels himself lineup, he thrust forward into you. A low huff leaves him as he feels his cock bully itself past your tight walls. You wrap around him so perfectly that he can’t control himself. He pulls back and slams into you even harder this time, causing you to wince in pain from his 13 inch cock rams into your cervix wall. While he is aware you can’t take him, he sure as hell is going to try and fit himself in fully.

You cry out of a mixture of pain and ecstasy as his heavy furry balls slap against your puffy pussy. The sensation is almost too much causing your body to tense and tingles shoot in different directions. Pathetic little mewls leave you with every thrust. Not wanting to give into this pleasure, you try to pull yourself up only for him to slam you back against the seat.

“Stay.” König growls in a raspy voice.

Your walls flutter in an attempt to adjust to his size, but it’s impossible when he doesn’t allow you a moment of rest. His sharp claws begin to dig into your skin as he grows more eager to claim you. His build up is approaching as his knot swells.

The heavy weight of his body rests on yours and you can feel his cold nose brush up against your neck. One of his clawed hands pulls your head to the side to allow himself room to bite down on the sensitive flesh. You gasp, not expecting the feeling of his sharp canines sinking into you. König goes deep enough to leave a scar and so that you can’t try to move away from what is going to come next.

König thrust into you a few more times before holding on to your hips harder than before, not letting up the tension from his hips. His cock is shoved fully in you, making you lose your arch from the pain of being filled. You wiggle uncomfortably for a moment before you feel yourself almost tear. One of your legs kicks out as you clench down tightly on the new feeling. König moans, feeling you actually take all of him. His cock begins to throb, spilling all of his seed deep inside of you.

“It- it's too much!” You cry out but your pleas are useless, he can’t pull out. The pain from his teeth in your neck is basically nonexistent at this point. It feels like losing your virginity all over again.

König only hums in response and grinds into your once more. You respond by whimpering, getting your hint to just try to relax and take it. Tears form at the edge of your eyes and fall down. The sex was orgasmic, but this pain is absolutely terrible.

The next morning you wake up in your own bed, confused. The last thing you remember from last time was…well the sex. Was it truly all a dream? How did you even make it home? You pull the blankets off of yourself and move your legs to stand. That's when a shooting pain travels from your crotch traveling down your legs.

Fuck…

Part 2

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misctf · 15 days ago

Text

The Haunted House II

Back with another Halloween themed story to celebrate the month! This is an indirect sequel to The Haunted House. Enjoy!

“You’ll wanna use these for pie and those for eatin’” Cal says with a warm smile. And just like several customers before, she thanks him for his kindness, “Aw shucks, jus’ glad to be here.” Each word rich with his country accent.

Today was the local college’s annual Autumn Festival. Cal’s father would have him man their stand. It was something the young farmer enjoyed each year and the locals always looked forward to seeing him. But once a year was good enough for him. He never went to college, but didn’t feel he was missing out. He loved the countryside and his life on the farm.

“Besides,” He thinks eying a group of college guys, “They’re all a bit backwards ‘round here.”

The group of bros were talking about a Halloween party that night. Their obnoxious laughter filling the air as they discussed ‘future conquests’. Their vocabulary rich with words like “rizz”, “bro”, and “lit.” Cal couldn’t wrap his head around it. Outside of being from the countryside, he figured being 30 years old contributed. To him, they all seemed immature and rude. A stark contrast to the values instilled in him by his god-fearing parents.

“Well, that was the last of it. Guess I should pack up.” After finishing, he looks down at his watch, “Well I’ll be, there’s still time before supper. Might as well explore.” He figures he might find a gift for his parents and girlfriend, Anna.

Cal walks pass various stands and attractions- enjoying the sense of community and the cool autumn breeze. And as he reached the end of the festival, he saw it- a large, wooden, and derelict house.

“That wasn’t here last year.” He mumbles, walking over to the plaque near the entrance, “Scariest experience you’ll ever have.” He reads. He scratches the hairs on his chin and grins, “A haunted house, huh?”

His neighbors would turn their farmhouse into a haunted house. And it was scary. Cal remembered the first time he took Anna. He damn well near pissed himself. If he wasn’t trying to impress her, he actually might’ve.

“Scariest, huh? I’ll be the judge of that.” He chuckles.

Without another thought, he enters. The inside was dark, illuminated by a few candles. The musty smell of mothballs and mildew invaded his nose, but he reassured himself it was nothing compared to the cows on a hot summer day. Eventually, he found himself standing in front of a large mirror.

“I see.” He smiles, “It’s one of them fun mirror houses.”

He feels somewhat relieved. This was nothing compared to his neighbor’s haunted house. He follows a creaky flight of stairs, until arriving at a somewhat familiar looking door.

“Well I’ll be.” He raises an eyebrow.

From what he could tell, it was a replica of the door to his room back home. He opens it slowly, his eyes widening as he enters what appeared to be a total copy of his bedroom.

“There’s no way.” He whispers, only to jump as the door slammed shut behind him.

He looks around finding his neatly made bed, his desk littered with equipment manuals, a pair of his work boots, and pictures of animals and the outdoors. Even his fishing gear sits nicely in the corner of the room. The only difference being the large mirror propped against the wall. Cal took an apprehensive step forward.

“Call me crazy...” He mutters, approaching his desk.

And as he picks up one of the manuals, he feels a shock. He watches closely as the manual starts to shift and change. The cover now showing off a nude man, flexing his muscles. Cal gasps and drops it as the remaining manuals reform into all kinds of lewd magazines. And he watches as a laptop materializes on his desk, immediately opening to gay porn- the sounds echoing loudly.

“What on Earth?” Cal gasps, feeling his cock tenting in his jeans, “Naw, this ain’t...”

He backs away, falling onto his bed. And when he does, images flash through his mind. He can hear his neighbor Billy. He’s moaning, begging for more. And Cal grunts from a sudden warmth around his cock.

“This don’t make sense.” Cal huffs, holding back a moan as he bucks his hips.

Billy was never near his room. Cal’s parents warned him about Billy’s sexual preferences. Yet he could hear Billy’s voice now, clear as day. His moans a symphony in Cal’s head as he absentmindedly massages his tented cock.

“Wasn’t that a good fuck?” A voice said.

“Fuckin’ was.” Cal slurred, recalling Billy’s firm ass.

He shakes his head and leaps from the bed, sweat trickling down his face. He never... not with a guy. Not even with Anna. He was waiting until marriage.

“Huhuh remember Anna’s face when she caught you?”

A new unwanted memory appears. The day Anna walked in on him and Billy. Her look of disgust. How his parents didn’t even know what to say, just going on about how disappointed they were.

“Whatever...” The voice continued, “At least we got bragging rights.” Cal groans as he remembered telling his friends about banging an older woman. But wasn’t he the same age as Anna?

“Nah fam, you’re 21.”

Before Cal could respond, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He couldn’t explain it, but he looked younger. He runs a hand along his smoother skin and watches with amazement as his facial hair falls to the floor. He moans as rush of hormones and energy fill his body.

“No, this isn’t right...” Cal’s eyes widened, “My voice... what...?” His country accent gone- now more akin to the bros from outside earlier.

He retreats from the mirror, awkwardly tripping over his work boots and falling into his closet. He looks up at his flannels and denim hanging neatly. And before his eyes, they morph. His clothes shifting into oversized hoodies, joggers, and tank-tops. He even catches a glimpse of his work boots as they become slides.

“Bruh, that drip ain’t hittin’ right.” The voice said, “Gotta ditch that fit.”

“What are you even...” Cal stops, hating how similar their voices sound.

But he quickly finds out what the voice meant. He yelps as the cool air caresses his now naked form. His rock-hard cock exposed and throbbing from the cool draft.

“But how...?” His eyes inspect his naked form.

He no longer sports a farmer’s tan. Instead, every inch of his skin was sun kissed- a rich bronze. And even his chest and belly hairs fall out. He frowns at the loss of the tokens of his traditional masculinity.

“Fuck this.” He curses, stumbling out of the closet, “Wait, no way.”

The pictures of animals and nature have been replaced by pictures of half-naked men and women. He groans as memories of jerking off to these pics fill his mind, and he shudders as the moans from his laptop seemingly got louder.

“I gotta bust.” He mumbled, thinking back to Billy’s ass, “But... no, fuck...”

His voice drips with smugness- deep and dull now. And nothing he did could prevent him from sounding like a typical douchebro. Taking a step back, he trips over a dumbbell.

“Bruh, where’s my fishing gear!?”

Instead, there’s a full set of dumbbells and a bench press. And his jaw drops when he caught his reflection again. Gone were his lean muscles. He now sports broad bis and tris. His pecs now a pair of meaty muscle tits. He slowly runs his hand along his six-pack abs, an unwanted pride filling him.

“Being jacked's a vibe, bro, no cap.” The voice said as Cal bounces his pecs.

“Facts bruh, a little extra muscle never hurt nobody.” Cal bites his lip, “No, oh fuck... my head...” Memories of guys and girls drooling over his muscles make his dick twitch. He loves the way those sluts would salivate over him, “Please... no...”

He winces as an intricate forearm tattoo engraves into his skin. And he gasps as a few bracelets materialize on his arm. There was no way... he would never buy shit like this. He was saving his money for more important things, right?

“Bruh, when you’re on OnlyFans, the bag’s there, no cap.”

Cal watches as a ring light and video camera materialize on his desk. Memories of his content flooding his weakened mind. The modest part of him blushing as he recalled the lewd content he created. Cumming on camera, teasing his cock, fucking Billy...

“They love watchin’ this dick in action.” He smirks, giving his monster a few tugs.

Yet, part of him was terrified- his values and kind-hearted nature resisting the persona that was taking over. And he quickly released his cock and grabbed his head.

“You gotta let that go, fr.” The voice said.

“Deadass, I’m not lettin’ this slide.” Cal shot back.

And as he turns back to the mirror, he saw himself. His real self. Still naked. But a reflection he was more used to- his farmer’s tan, lean muscle, and body hair. Not sporting a tattoo or fake jewelry. The kindness still in his eyes, albeit fearful.

“It’s me...” He whispers.

But when he looks down, all he sees is his newly bronzed skin, two slabs of chest meat, cobblestone abs, and his 12 inch, throbbing cock.

“No... I don’t want this...”

Desperately, he reachs out to the mirror- to his old self. Wanting nothing more than to go back to being himself. But as his hand touches the mirror, it shatters. Cal cries out and tumbles through the opening, falling to the ground just outside the haunted house.

“Oh fuck...” He curses, pushing himself up.

He looks down at his tanned, meaty hand. His tattoo and arms on full display in his tank-top. His pair of joggers doing little to hide his raging boner. In a dazed panic, he grabs his phone and opens snapchat.

“It’s me, bruh. For real.” He keeps staring at the photo, his eyes dulling, “Damn.. I got that rizz today.” He swipes through a few filters and grins, “Lit.” His selfie now framed by the entrance to the haunted house, “Scariest experience you’ll ever have.” He chuckles, “No cap.” He uploads the selfie for his thirsty followers.

“Bruh, you good?” Cal looks up at the group of guys from earlier.

“Ghost play with your cock, CJ?” One quips, nodding towards the outline of the boner in his pants.

“CJ?” Cal mumbled. Yeah... He likes that... CJ, “Bruh, that house was straight-up bussin’, no cap.” CJ chuckles and readjusts his dick, “Ayo, quit staring unless you're gonna do something about it.” He stands up, “Like, don’t we have a party to hit up?”

Later, CJ stands in his dorm room, flexing after his shower. His dick needed some attention- not like he ever had a problem with that. That’s why he went to fuckin’ college in the first place. His basic ass parents could waste their lives on that farm. Nah fam, CJ had bigger and better things ahead of him- as did whoever guy’s ass he was baggin’ that night. CJ chuckles, already feeling his cock hardening.

#male tf #male transformation #mental change #personality tf #straight to gay #jock tf #dumber tf #unwilling tf #age regression

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nighttimealone · 27 days ago

Note

NEED ghost one!🥺

The house’s out of detergent and neither Simon or you noticed until you both staring at the filled laundry basket this morning.

“Well, I suppose I’m gonna go out and buy a bottle or two now. Or else we’ll need to go all naked tomorrow if we don’t do the laundry today.” You ruffle your hair in slight frustration, you both just woke up minutes ago, planning to dump the clothes into the washing machine then slump back on the bed again for another hour of slumber.

“Not that I mind that.” Simon voice’s still a bit hoarse from sleep too, but he’s in a good mood apparently, almost make you roll your eyes at his shameless comment, but your lips form a grin when you shoot him a side glance.

“You come with me or you stay home being cheeky?”

“You know the answer.”

Simon must admit, he’s still a bit sleepy from waking in early hours on vacation, eyes half-lidded from grogginess at first.

But he’s pushing the shopping trolley behind you as you navigate through the alley in the supermarket, he doubts he has ever been this awaked before.

The cap and disposal mask conceal his gaze directly sticking on your ass. You rummaged through your closet and finally got a pair of shorts to wear before you do the laundry. It’s an old shorts you own for years, been washed for countless times before it retired due to faded color and shrinkage, tucked in the deepest part of the closet until you fished it out today.

The shrunk fabric clings snuggly to your plump cheeks, a bit too small and tightening around your upper thighs, digging into the flesh faintly and allow them to spill around the hems just right.

He can’t tear his eyes away from how your butt jiggles every time with your steps, almost bump the trolley into other customers when he sees you bend down to pick up a bottle of detergent. “Sorry.” He mutters quickly to the poor customer, fixating on how your supple cheeks bounce tantalizingly when you straighten up that he misses the skeptical look from the customer gives him.

“Got the detergent. let’s go.” You saunter back to him, reach down to set the bottles in the trolley.

A Dangerous move without you knowing, because the next moment his palm covers one of your cheeks, gives it a firm knead and makes you yelp out in surprise.

“What the hell, Simon?” your neck snaps up to meet his gaze with wide eyes, and you find his eyes, swirling with lust and wickedness inside.

“ 's your fault for keeping flaunting that perfect arse of your in front of me.” Simon quickly pushes the trolley to the self-checkout counter, unceremoniously tossing the bottles of detergent with another hand practically shoving the cash into the machine.

Having a closer look at that ass perfectly hugged by your shorts finally break his last string of restraint. He ignores your confused questions at his sudden action, swing the shopping bag over his shoulder and take your hand, striding back to the truck with you following him and try to figure out what happened.

“So this is why you’re all worked up, huh?” You’re dragged into the driver seat along with Simon, now straddling his hips, raise an eyebrow at the tent forming at his crotch.

“Hard not to stop my cock from getting hard when your arse kept jumping up and down the entire time I was walking behind you, love.”

“We’re supposed to go home now and launder those dirty clothes, you know?”

“Adding a few more dirty clothes into the basket won’t be a big issue.” His hands find their way back to your cheeks again, palming them in “And I’ve already said, I don’t mind you have to go about the day without clothes tomorrow.”

note: please feel free to request for part 2 (aka smut) if any of you wants it, thanks

#ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #cod x reader #cod x you #simon riley x f!reader #nighttimealone

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toruro · 11 months ago

Text

— ✧ back to december

a part of flower me with love ... an hhu unit x flowers collection !

genre: smut (18+ / mdni), fluff, angst (resolved!), best friends to strangers to lovers

description: it's been four months and twenty-two days since you've last talked to mingyu, however your mother still thinks you two are friends. you don't have the heart to tell her what really happened, and now you think it's time for you to move on. (un?)fortunately for you though, mingyu seems to have other plans.

inspired by back to december by taylor swift!

tags: miscommunication, unrequited love (not fr though), big dick mingyu, sex in a car >_<, riding, fingering, pet names (angel, pretty), creampie :3

w/c: 4.3k

a/n: happy birthday @gyuswhore!!! this fic is for em but if not em and ur reading it i hope u enjoy too. this is like 2/3 plot and 1/3 smut if anyone cares

Normality is bliss.

That’s what you used to tell yourself. That’s what you used to believe.

Normality was bright mornings, crisp air, slow walking down the main street, inhaling the ambrosial scent of freshly roasted coffee beans, and slipping under the fairy lights that hang over the door. It was the warm sound of the overhead bell ringing, permeating laughter in the cafe from all customers, and daisies in a pot by the entrance.

Normality was Mingyu. His bright laugh as you approach the counter, sweet voice as he playfully asks you what drink you’d like, to which you roll your eyes and respond with, “You already know, don’t you?” It was the chuckle he would let out, the wink he flashed at you, murmuring the words, “It’s on the house” (because with Mingyu, it was always on the house), the thanks you give him before stepping back.

Normality was the latte he handed you, rough yet ginger fingers brushing over your palm as he warned you, “Careful, it’s hot,” and the giggle you let out when you stepped back and asked how his morning was going. It was Mingyu telling you nothing special happened yet. It was Mingyu suggesting that you two hang out at the field after he’s done with work. It was you grinning and agreeing in an instant, but only under the condition that he picks you up after your class.

Normality was bliss until four months and twenty-two days ago.

Now, normality hurts like a bitch.

Your mother glances at you from the corner of her vision as you rummage through the fridge. “What’re you looking for?”

“Some bread,” you murmur. “Was really craving a tomato sandwich … Damn, we’re seriously out of white bread?” you ask, giving up with a sigh as you close the door and face her.

She shrugs. “If it’s not in the fridge then I guess so. We’re low on produce too actually … I’d be surprised if you find tomatoes in there too,” she says. You purse your lip, shuffling through the different rows of cabinets to find something to throw together to take for lunch as your mother continues to speak. “You think you could stop by the grocery store after class today and pick up some stuff?”

“Yeah sure,” you reply casually.

“Ah, I wish Mingyu still stopped by with the groceries,” your mother says, and the sudden mention of his name has you halting your movements as you reach for a croissant, before you inhale deeply and go back to doing your own thing.

“Yeah,” you say quietly, clearing your throat after the word comes out horsley.

“You know why he stopped doing that?”

You try not to think about how you still haven’t told your mother that you and Mingyu don’t talk anymore.

“Uhh, I guess uni’s been getting to be a lot of work,” you tell her. “We’re both taking way harder classes so, uh, I guess he doesn’t have the time.”

“Hmm, yeah makes sense. You’re always swamped up in that room of yours ‘cause of work too … haven’t seen you two hang out in a while actually.”

You chew on your lip, staring down at your little bag for lunch and the croissant that sits inside. You wonder if you’ll even have the appetite to eat anything today after this conversation.

“We’re just busy. It’s harder to talk now.” It’s not entirely a lie. Grabbing the bag and picking up your backpack, you turn to face your mother who’s scrolling on her phone. “I’m gonna go now. My first class is starting soon.”

Now, normality is huffing as you get into your car, wishing you had a coffee next to you, but being too full of cowardice to head over to the cafe.

(“Go to a different cafe!” is what common sense would tell you, but common sense doesn’t listen to a love that has been betrayed. No other latte tastes the same, but you know that’s only because no other latte has been made by Mingyu.)

You pick up groceries on the way home.

Now, normality is staring at the daisies that are on display as you walk through the front doors of the store and reminiscing. It’s wondering what once was, and what could have been, if you decided to keep your silly feelings to yourself.

Normality is regretting. Regretting ever opening your mouth and telling Mingyu four months and twenty-two days ago that you loved him, and that you had loved him for not one, not two, not five, but ten damn years, because that was when you two met, and you always loved Kim Mingyu, but you should have known that not once did he love you back. Not how you would’ve wanted anyways.

Normality is wondering. Wondering if Mingyu would still be dropping off groceries if you hadn’t told him that you loved him, if he hadn’t told you he didn’t know what to tell you. Wondering if he thinks of you now. Wondering if he has any regrets. Wondering if he’s okay, but you lost the chance to know the answer to that question four months and twenty-two days ago. Wondering if—

Tomatoes. You need to buy the tomatoes, and the bread, some green beans, spinach, bell pepper, and more cheese, milk, maybe some butter, and—what was it that your mother told you to get? Oh, some strawberries.

You need to get all of these things, but there were no daisies on the list, so how did a bouquet full of them end up in your cart? You tell yourself you picked them up because they’re on sale, but you know the real reason is because you miss Mingyu.

Directing your attention back to the list you were sent on your phone, you hum lowly to yourself as you push your cart through the aisles. Checking items off your notes app, you exist with just yourself, your tomatoes, and fresh daisies as you try and finish these groceries before it gets too late into the evening.

Staring at your screen, you almost don’t notice that the dairy aisle isn’t empty until you bump into someone. “Sorry,” you mutter quickly, “I—” The words get caught in your throat when you see just exactly who you’ve hit.

Averting your gaze quickly, you wonder if Mingyu will respond, but you choose to scurry away quickly instead, because as cowardly as it sounds, you’re not sure if you’re ready to hear his voice again.

You’re not sure why your heart beats so fast when you escape into another aisle. Maybe it’s because you couldn’t read the look on his face for the brief second that your eyes met.

(Ten years of being best friends and you somehow don’t know what he’s thinking. Can four months and twenty-two days really change a person that much? Or did you never know Kim Mingyu in the first place?)

When you get home, your mother asks you where you got the daisies from. You tell her Mingyu gave them to you, because you want to convince her that you two are still best friends, and maybe—just maybe—you’re trying to convince yourself of it too.

You decide to buy a latte five days later. Mingyu never worked the evening shifts, so you’re confident you’ll get one of the other’s as the barista if you walk in past 6pm. Seokmin’s always nice. He doesn’t make the latte’s as sweet as you like—more specifically, as sweet as Mingyu made them—but he’s kind and always cheery.

When you walk in today, the pot by the door is empty. There are no more daisies, and you wonder if this is what has become of normality.

Your eyes glaze over the familiar setting, breathing in the sweet, rusty smell of coffee, and you smile watching all the cafe-goers laugh along with each other in their seats. All is going well, and you’re telling yourself that maybe this new normal isn’t too bad. That you’ve lived with it for four months and twenty-seven days, and so you can live with it longer and—

Your heart plummets when you see who's working the register today.

Maybe you really never knew Kim Mingyu, because you swore he hated the evening shifts, but here he is with a neatly tied apron, smiling while he talks to some girl across the counter. And his toothy grin is so bright and you aren’t sure if you’re seeing things correctly because everything sound has turned to a white rush in your ears and your vision blurs because you are once again awarded the painful reminder that you are in love with Kim Mingyu.

You thought your heart broke right in two back in December, but you hear it crack in this moment and realize that this was the final blow.

There are tears in your eyes, and you don’t know how long you stand there, until you hear your name. Seokmin is calling for you, and when you look up there’s no girl at the counter and it’s just Mingyu and Seokmin staring at you.

And you wonder briefly if you should be glad that Mingyu looks concerned but you don’t have time to dwell on the fact because Seokmin calls for you again—“Hey, are you okay? You—you’re crying”—and fuck, you’ve just humiliated yourself, so with fat tears hitting the dark wood ground you turn on your heel and rush out the door.

You keep thinking and wondering and regretting and you hate it all because regret has become normality, but regret is not a bliss.

You walk down the street, and you keep walking and walking and walking until you realize you forgot where you parked the car but none of that matters because all you’re thinking about is Mingyu’s smile, and how he doesn’t smile at you anymore. And so you walk faster and cry a bit harder until you’re so far down the street you don’t even know where you are anymore but it doesn’t matter because you don’t know who you’ve become.

And there’s footsteps thudding behind you—are you going to get kidnapped now? Fuck, you’ve already had the most horrendous sequence of events that could possibly happen to you in the span of five minutes, and now it’s going to get worse? If this goddamn kidnapper could just target you any other day, then maybe you wouldn’t whip around with tearful eyes, shouting into the dark: “Please don’t kidnap me! I’ll go with you any other day but—Mingyu!?”

His tall figure is hunched over, hands over his thighs as he heaves for breath, craning his neck to look up at you. “Kidnap you? Why in the world would I kidnap you?” he asks through harsh breaths. “Fuck, you walk so fast,” he groans, finally standing up as you furiously wipe your tears away in an attempt to actually make sense of this situation.

“I—” You want to reply, but then it hits you that this is the first time Mingyu has spoken to you in four months and twenty-seven days, and the thought is dizzying. “I don’t know,” you tell him, because you really don’t know. You don’t know a damn thing.

Mingyu looks at you with a look that you, once again, can’t seem to read. “Sorry, I—I wanted to see if you were okay.”

“I’m fine,” you tell him, and anyone would be able to see through the lie but you’re hoping that Mingyu doesn’t pry any further. He doesn’t move, nor does he say anything. “You can, uh, go back now,” you add, rubbing the back of your neck as you stare at the ground. “I’m okay.”

“You—you were crying.”

Opening your mouth to protest, you realize you can’t refute him now. Not when it was so painfully obvious. You choose silence instead, hoping that your apprehension will be enough to drive him away, although it only seems to egg Mingyu on.

You don’t expect the words he blurts out after a few moments of thickness.

“You don’t know how much I wish I could go back to December and change things.”

“Please don’t lie to me Mingyu,” you tell him, and he can just hear from the way you say his name that you are desperately pleading with him. When you finally look up at him with glossy eyes, he wonders how in the world he let things get this far.

“I’m not lying, I—I wouldn’t lie about this.”

“What do you mean by this, Mingyu? What is this?” You cover your face and begin to sob, but not without gasping out words between heavy breaths. “Please don’t do this to me, not again.”

And when you uncover your face and look at him again, he’s got some bewildered look on his face, and you can’t tell what he’s going to say next.

“The girl,” Mingyu starts to say. “That’s my cousin. She was visiting me at work and—”

“It’s not about the girl, Mingyu!” And that’s a bit of a lie because some part of it is about the girl but it’s mainly about you and it’s mainly about Mingyu—mainly about the two of you.

He pinches the bridge of his nose and speaks. “Sorry, I—you’re right.”

Silence once more, before you calm your breaths and shake your head. “You should head back, Mingyu.”

“No I—wait, I just—I’m not lying. I regret everything I did in December.”

“Ming—”

“No, please listen to me. I regret not telling you how I actually felt, but I was so confused,” he tells you, repeating your name. “I was confused and fucking terrified because if things didn’t work out for some reason, then I would’ve lost my best friend but—but I was fucking stupid and lost you anyways. And you know, I wanted to reach out. I wanted to talk to you so bad but then like last week, when I saw you in the grocery store, and—daisies.”

“Daisies?” You furrow your brows.

“Daisies. You had a bouquet of them in your cart,” Mingyu tells you, taking a step forward. “And I know how much you love daisies. Your favorite flowers in the world. I saw them in your cart and thought to myself, fuck, I missed my chance, because I thought you had them for someone else and—”

“They weren’t,” you blurt out. “I-I even told my mom you got me them,” you add bashfully, “because she doesn’t know we stopped … yeah.”

There’s a silence that sits between you two, but you’re starting to realize that silence has become normality and you are no longer content with that.

“Mingyu, do you love me?”

He doesn’t hesitate to respond. “More than you love daisies.”

You laugh through your drying tears. You laugh so hard it makes you cry no longer because of pain but because of happiness, and you shake your head and throw your arms around him. “Kim Mingyu, that is a bold statement.”

“What can I say?” he grins. “I’m a bold man.”

“Where was that bold man for the past four months and twenty-seven days?” you snort.

Mingyu raises a brow. “You’ve been counting?” For a moment your expression falls but then he shakes his head and smiles. “Don’t worry—I’ve been too.”

You two are quick to head back, Mingyu begging Seokmin to hold the first alone for the weekend before taking the wheel of your car and driving you both to your favorite field of daisies.

“Are we going to have sex for the first time in your car?” Mingyu asks with a chuckle, climbing into the backseat from one end while you pile in from the other.

Giggling, you meet his lips for a kiss as soon as the door shuts behind him, arms winding around his thick neck to bring him close. “The way you said that insinuates there we’ll be having more sex after this,” you tell him with a smile before diving back into another tongue twisting kiss.

“Hell yeah,” Mingyu groans against your tongue as you adjust to situate yourself over his lap, hips pressing dangerously close to his. “Gonna fuck you every day if I can. If you can handle that,” he adds.

You roll your eyes, pulling back to help yourself out of the cardigan and shirt you’re wearing. “What makes you think I can’t handle it?”

He only flashes you a toothy grin and quickly glances down at his groin area before winking at you. “You’ll see.”

“Kim Mingyu, you are a little shit,” you conclude despite the way your tummy churns at his insinuation, throwing off your shirt as Mingyu helps you out of a bra.

“I’m not little, that’s for sure … fuck, you’ve got the prettiest tits in the world,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around your torso to pull you closer so he can plant his lips on the soft flesh. His mouth is warm, tongue tracing constellations over our skin before enclosing one of your nipples with his lips.

Slowly, his tongue traces circles around the stiffened nipple, teeth grazing over it ever so gently before biting down with slight force. “Ah!” you moan out, head thrown back as your hands travel up his neck and into his hair, fisting the thick, dark locks. “‘m sensitive, ‘gyu,” you tell him, shaky-breathed as he pulls his mouth off your tits with a slip popping sound.

“Sorry,” he says with a lazy smile. “Your tits are so nice,” Mingyu murmurs, bringing a hand up to squeeze over your other breast, tweaking the nipple in one hand as your hands begin to play with the hem of his tight fit shirt. “Fuck, can’t believe we didn’t fuck earlier. You know how much time we could’ve saved?” he says, pulling away just for a moment to peel the shirt off his body, revealing his firm, thick torso.

“I wonder whose fault that is?” You roll your eyes.

Mingyu frowns in response. “Don’t remind me … angel, take off your pants. Wanna finger you.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice, because in an instant your hands are at the waistband of your pants as heat rises to your cheeks upon hearing his words. Just the thought of Mingyu’s thick, longer fingers inside your aching cunt is enough for it to pulse around nothing as you throw your pants to the side and shove your panties to reveal your core.

“Atta girl,” he murmurs under his breath as you readjust yourself over his lap so that he can have better access between your legs. Slowly, he brings one hand up to your exposed cunt, bringing his middle finger to circle around your gaping hole. “Shit, you’re so wet, angel … so wet for me.”

“Just for you ‘gyu, just for you” you gasp out when he sinks one finger in, rough pads rubbing against your warm, gummy walls.

Now Mingyu occasionally entertains the outrageous idea that he’s well composed, but he’d be a fool to deny that, even though he can turn you to mush in the palm of his hand, you also have him wrapped around your little finger.

You only have to beg him once or twice for a second finger before he’s giving in, wanting nothing more than to spoil you until you can’t even remember what you were asking for in the first place. And naturally, when you finally tell him that you’re ready for more—ready for his cock—he can’t help but grin and comply.

“You think you’re ready?” he asks, slipping his fingers out and shoving them into your mouth so you can taste yourself.

“You think I’m not?” you mumble around his fingers. You pout a little and Mingyu chuckles, leaning in to give you a wet and sloppy kiss before lifting his hips a little.

“You’ll see angel … help me take this all off,” he tells you, and you’re quick to grab at his waistband and yank his pants and boxers down at the same time.

“What are you talking ab—oh.” The words dry on your tongue when you see his cock spring out, from underneath his boxers, the thickness slapping against Mingyu’s abdomen.

It’s fat and long and veiny in all the right places, heavy balls resting at the base of it, the reddish-pink tip smeared all over with his shiny, translucent white precum.

“Yeah,” Mingyu says with yet another chuckle, watching your face as you gaze down at his cock in awe.

“I-is it gonna fit?” you ask incredulously, eyes glancing back and forth between the smirk on Mingyu’s lips and the long length of his cock. Mingyu just shrugs and smooths his hands over your hips, your stomach, and then your neck, pulling you into a deep kiss.

Your stomach flutters, cunt growing more and more needy and wet as the seconds tick by, and the way Mingyu’s tongue flicks against yours only heightens the feeling. When he pulls away, he settles his hands over your waist and directs you right over his cock, and something in you swells with pure arousal with the next words he says.

“Don’t worry angel, I’ll make it fit. You trust me?”

“Yeah,” you breath out, steadying your position as Mingyu uses one hand to guide his heavy length so that the tip points upwards and presses right against you.

“Fuck yeah,” he hisses, and you moan as you feel him sliding against your folds in a slippery, sticky mess. “old onto me, yeah angel? If you want to stop just—”

“Say the word,” you finish for him, placing your hands on Mingyu’s bare shoulders as an attempt to steady yourself, breath hitching as his length pushes into your entrance. “Oh shit, ‘gyu!" you cry out as you begin to sink down on him.

Tears pricking at the corners of your eyes—you can’t even fathom how, even after all his prep, Mingyu still feels like he’s nearly splitting you in half.

“Fuck, pretty—you’re so fucking tight,” Mingyu grunts, helping you nearly impale yourself on his cock. “Fucking fitting inside you so well,” he praises as he bottoms out inside of you, letting your forehead fall to his shoulder as you take deep breath.

Mingyu knows he’s big—knows it’s hard to fit him inside of you—and he’s feels so fucking lucky that he has you—so willing to take all that he’s giving—sucking him in and whining for more. He waits a few moments, only listening to the way your heavy breaths start to grow lighter, until you’re whimpering a soft, “‘gyu.”

He wastes no time in jerking his hips upward, shifting inside of you and battering the inside of your soft walls. You bite down on his shoulder as you push your hips down to meet his thrusts, choking back soft sobs as you feel his cock kiss your cervix with each movement.

“Holy shit,” Mingyu grunts as you begin to bounce on his lap, his length slipping out of you halfway before being plunged right back in with a sopping mess growing on his thighs.

You whine loudly at the overwhelming pleasure that takes over your body, lifting your head up so you could look at Mingyu with your mouth agape and hair stuck all over your burning face, a sheer layer of sweat starting to envelope both your bodies.

Soon, both of your movements begin to grow erratic and sloppy, hips jamming into each other so hard you’d be surprised if you even have the ability to walk tomorrow. You now know why Mingyu was concerned about fucking every day.

“You g’na cum soon pretty? Cum all over my cock? I can feel it angel, can feel your pretty cunt squeezing me.”

“Fuck, Mingyu,” you manage to gasp out, “Yeah, ’m gonna cum—feels so good, so full, so—fuck!”

Mingyu’s cock pulses inside of you and that’s when every detail seems to be heightened to a thousand—as your orgasm racks through you, you seem to feel every curve, every vein, dragging in and out of you to such detail that it has your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you scream out his name.

Mingyu watches you fall apart, surrendering to bliss, and the way your hips are sporadically swiveling over his, your pussy’s wetness coating and creaming his cock has him going into a frenzy. Frantically, he begins to snap his hips faster up into you, your soft moans of overstimulation pushing him to his end faster than he can ever imagine. Watching the way he slides in and out of you is enough to have him cumming, shooting his hot, sticky load inside your warm cunt.

Riding out the last of his orgasm with soft rolls of his hips, Mingyu sighs contently at the feeling of you milking him dry, the both of you looking down at the wet, dirty mess you’ve made where the two of you connect, his cock still throbbing inside of you.

Both of you finally look up at the same time, grinning at each other, and you flop forward resting your head on his chest as he slowly combs his fingers through your hair, other hand running up and down your back.

“Why’d you start working the evening shifts?” you ask Mingyu after your breath has finally leveled. “I thought you hated those.”

“I did, but you stopped coming in the mornings, and I figured it was because of me. I hoped that maybe you would start coming in the evenings so I asked my boss to change my regular shifts just in case.”

“Oh wow, you really do love me.”

“I already told you I do! Even more than you love daisies, remember?”

#svt smut #seventeen imagines #seventeen smut #mingyu x reader #mingyu smut #mingyu fluff #mingyu angst #svt fluff #svt angst #kim mingyu x reader #kim mingyu smut #kim mingyu fluff #kim mingyu angst #📝 writing

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honeekyuu · 4 months ago

Text

mine. [suna rintarou x f!reader]

>>You catch Miya Atsumu's attention, and Suna struggles to deal with that.

Everyone always makes assumptions about your relationship with Suna Rintarou, and he has no problem proving them right.<<

______________________________

tags: chubby!reader, smut, fluff, angst, childhood best friends to lovers, penetrative sex, fingering, rough sex, tattoo shop owner suna rintarou, miya atsumu is a bit of a menace, jealousy, unprotected sex, creampie, hand job

a/n: suna rintarou x chubby!reader is my favorite flavor of cake

[feel free to buy me a cup of coffee!]

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

“What are you doing here?” Suna stands over the wheely chair at the receptionist’s desk, glaring down at the top of Miya Atsumu’s head. The twin only turns to look up at him, smiling brightly.

“I got bored.”

“Go be bored somewhere else.”

“Aw, come on, Suna-” Suna grabs the back of chair and drags it to the side, effectively shoving Atsumu out of his way so he can look through his appointments on the computer. He’s got a regular coming in at 3, so – he glances at the clock hanging over the window in the waiting area – he’s free for the next couple hours.

“-out here today. Just today?”

“You’re still talking?” Suna pokes around in the calendar, seeing that he’s fully booked for the weekend. Thank God his secretary had asked for today off and not tomorrow.

“Your secretary’s not even here today! I can play the part!” “If I needed someone to play the part, I wouldn’t have given her the day off.” He mumbles it under his breath, feeling Atsumu’s gaze burning into the side of his head. He knows the man won’t leave. Never once in the time they’ve known each other has he listened to anyone but himself.

He turns and leans against the desk, sighing as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“In case you hadn’t noticed-“ He waves a hand out toward the empty shop. “-there’s no one here. My entire staff is at the beach, which means that if I didn’t need them -“ He tries to reach for Atsumu so he can push the man out of that stupid chair he’s currently spinning circles in. The blond just wheels out of reach. “-then I don’t need you-Can you just go ?!”

The bell above the door jingles, interrupting Rintarou’s temptation to swing a fist into his friend’s face. He turns to find a young man nervously perusing the art on the walls. He stands to full height and combs a hand through his hair, remembering that he’s still a business owner.

“Hey, how’s it-”

“Welcome in, welcome in!” Suna’s shoved out of the way by a pair of excited hands, Atsumu decidedly his obnoxious secretary for the day. “This your first time?”

The man jumps, turning and offering an anxious smile. “Y-Yeah. I was wondering if you take walk-ins…?”

Suna nods, reaching into the desk for an intake packet. “For sure. I’m free until 3, if you don’t mind just filling out this-” He sighs in annoyance, because Atsumu’s ripping the papers from his hand and presenting them to the man with a flourish.

“If you could just fill out this quick form, kind sir-”

The man takes the packet, a bit startled, and moves toward the waiting area for a seat. He pauses briefly, peering at Atsumu’s face.

“Hey, aren’t you that famous volleyball player…?”

Atsumu beams at the man, but Suna’s pressing an irritated hand to his shoulder and gripping tight. The twin barely winces.

“Yes, he is . Which is why he’s leaving . Because he already has a job .” Every emphasis comes with a harsh squeeze of Suna’s fingers into Atsumu’s shoulder bones.

“How could I leave you without a receptionist, Suna? In your time of need? Never!” Atsumu brushes him off and takes a seat, plopping down into the chair with a satisfied smile. Suna just stares at him, wondering if it’s too much to just call the cops and pretend they don’t know each other.

Instead, he just sighs, meeting the customer’s eyes and gesturing back to one of the many curtained-off sections of the shop.

“I’m gonna go set up - you can just come find me when you’re ready.”

The man nods meekly as Suna moves to set up at his station. He’s joined a few minutes later, and within the hour, this shy man officially has his first tattoo. It’s some simple line art on his wrist, but he’s staring at it in wonder as if it were Suna’s life work.

“Dude… Thank you so much.”

Suna just chuckles.

“You’re good, man. Come back when you’re ready for a sleeve, yeah?” He flexes his own decorated arm at the man to emphasize the quip, and the guy just laughs, still peering down at his tiny tattoo.

The bell above the door jingles again, and he checks his watch with a subdued sigh. He’d been looking forward to a quiet afternoon.

“ Well, hello, Miss! Welcome in! Is this your first time? ”

Suna rolls his eyes as he starts wrapping up his customer’s wrist, because he can recognize that sleazy tone in Atsumu’s voice from a mile away. He’d had it since high school.

The last thing he needs is that idiot driving away potential customers with his gross attitude.

“ O-Oh, no, it’s not- ” Suna freezes, tape clinging to his thumb instead of to the wrapping. “ -I just came to see Rin-er-Suna. Suna. ”

God, this cannot be happening.

The silence that follows is full of curiosity on Atsumu’s end. Suna rushes to finish up, desperate to cut their interaction short.

“ Oh, you know Suna personally? Where from?”

“We grew up together!”

“What?! Since when? ”

Why is it so god-damn hard to wrap a tattoo today? He’s been doing this shit for years.

The quiet laughter that rings out in his shop is enough to make him flinch. Oh, he bets Atsumu loves that laugh.

“We were neighbors until high school! Roommates now, actually-” “Roommates?!”

“Alright, you’re good. You can see my secretary up front for the bill.” Suna stands with unnecessary force, his head poking up from behind the curtain.

When he turns to the front, he has to force himself not to sigh.

You’re standing in the waiting area, dangling a lunch box from one hand as you laugh brightly at Atsumu’s reaction.

The summer dress you’re wearing is one of his favorites – the way it hugs your curves has made his mind wander more often than he’d care to admit. And when you spot him looking at you, the twinkle that fills your eye is one he doesn’t want to share with anyone.

Especially not Miya Atsumu .

“Rin!” You thrust the lunch box out in his direction, shaking it playfully at him.

He leads his client up to the front, not bothering to respond aside from a nod of acknowledgement.

“Atsumu-” He claps him hard on the shoulder, but the blond is just staring up at him, scandalized. “-will ring you up.” He smiles down menacingly. “Won’t you?”

Atsumu just nods dumbly and meets the customer’s eyes, still processing the information he’s just received.

“Yeah, sure.”

Suna uses the break in his attention to glance at you, catching your interested gaze. He nods over his shoulder, leading you to the back room. You skip to catch up with him, your dress swaying around your hips. Suna pretends not to see it, choosing instead to shoulder the door open with a sigh.

“Don’t you work today?”

“Yeah, I’m on my break!” You smile up at him, dangling the lunch box in his face again. He takes it without a word, flopping down onto the leather couch and setting it on the coffee table. You sit beside him, kicking your sandals off and curling your knees into your chest as you lean against him. “You said you had a light day today, though.”

“I do. That was a walk-in.” He gestures out to the front in explanation, leaning forward to set his elbows on his knees as he unpacks the lunch. A trio of onigiri in one container and some cutely decorated hot dog bites in the other.

He bites into an onigiri and hums.

“Spicy crab.”

You lean forward, eyes sparkly. “Does it taste okay? I tried something new today! Can you guess what it is?”

Suna just hums and takes another bite, knowing you’ll tell him anyway. You’d always had that hyperactive personality, that sweet girl persona. Growing up, he’d only ever needed to sit quietly in your presence. His friends had always been your friends, because he could never be bothered enough to make his own and you always had so many. He’d liked it better that way – he’d never needed anyone but you.

“Why didn’t you tell Miya that you work at his brother’s shop?”

“It’s spicy flakes! Can you taste them?” Only when he hums again, noncommittal to a fault, do you answer him. “Well, why haven’t you or Osamu told him yet?”

Because we know how he is.

Suna just shrugs, reaching for the second one. It’s filled with tuna.

You watch his reaction to the taste closely – the flavor isn’t anything abnormal, but you watch him as if tuna were suddenly a bold choice. You’d always liked watching him eat your cooking. It warms you to see him eat well.

Finally, you answer his question like an afterthought.

“I figured that if he didn’t already know from you two, then there was no reason to know. And he comes into the shop all the time, anyway, but he’s always ranting about volleyball so he never notices me in the kitchen.”

Suna snorts. Of course Atsumu hadn’t noticed you until it was convenient for him.

He reaches for a hot dog – it’s cut to resemble an octopus. He feels like he’s in high school, eating a bento made by a girlfriend.

He shoves that thought to the back of his head, popping the thing in his mouth and chewing with interest. It’s good, just like everything you make.

“Why didn’t you tell him you knew who he was?” He takes another. Did you cook them in something sweet? This is new. “He is famous.”

“You always complained in high school that he had a big head.” You smile when he smirks at your simple reasoning. “You like the honey soy glaze?”

So that’s what it is.

“‘s good.”

You beam at him, always excited for literally any response other than his grunt of general acknowledgement. Taking him in, you have to hide your grin behind a hand, because this 6’2”, heavily pierced and tattooed gloom of a man is eating a bento that looks like it was decorated by a teenage girl.

The moment is thoroughly interrupted when the door to the room is thrown open.

“So this is where you two wandered off to!”

Suna only realizes he’s sighed in irritation when you nudge him, a gentle reprimand. He glances back at you, finding that sweet expression you always put on around people you don’t know well.

Part of him hates that you’d bless Miya Atsumu with even your fakest smile.

Atsumu barges in, taking a seat on the stool by the counter. He smiles smoothly at you, his eyes lingering on where your exposed thighs press into Suna’s side. He can think of at least a dozen girls from high school who would have killed for that kind of proximity to Suna Rintarou.

And looking at you? He has no clue how a girl like you – so innocent-looking and cute, just his type – could end up this close with such a dry, deadpan man.

“So, Rin-” Atsumu’s eyes linger shamelessly on any amount of plush skin he can manage a glimpse of. You pretend not to notice, if only for Rintarou’s sake. He’s got his eyes locked on the bento, determined to ignore his friend, and you don’t want him to get any more upset than he already is.

“Why have you never mentioned this lovely lady to me? I’ve only known you - what, ten years ?” The blond counts the years on his fingers just to be sure, meeting your eyes flirtily when you laugh generously at his obvious attempt to be funny.

Suna’s not sure why he’s suddenly wondering how good it would feel to kick Atsumu’s fat head right off his shoulders.

“Because she’s none of your business.”

He takes another bite of hot dog, as if he hadn’t just set up an implied boundary about whose business you really are. He’s staring down at the lunch, practically stabbing it with his chopsticks, so he doesn’t see the way Atsumu’s eyebrows lift surprise, the way you just smile knowingly like this moment is familiar.

The blond glances at your face, but you’re just smiling at the back of Suna’s head fondly.

Interesting.

He asks for your name, and when you give it, Atsumu’s repeating it back slowly, appreciatively.

Suna’s self-aware enough to stifle the sigh this time. This guy’s so full of shit sometimes.

“Well, Suna and I met in high school.” He tilts his head in your direction, waiting for you to meet his eyes. It comes far later than he’d have liked, your gaze lingering on the food that Suna’s eating. You watch for the man’s reaction to the onigiri he’s biting into, and when Suna nods with a hum, you’re beaming.

And then you’re turning your attention to Atsumu’s comment.

“Oh, I know.” You settle back into the couch, throwing an arm onto the back of the cushion and leaning your head on your hand. “I’ve heard all about you , Mister Miya.”

Suna knows he’d only ever complained about Atsumu in high school, but the way you say it to the blond makes it feel like you’re flirting.

Was that an accident of your tone? Or did you do that on purpose?

He glances up through his lashes, finding that interested gleam in Atsumu’s eye as he lifts his eyebrows.

“Oh? Only good things, I hope.”

“I bet you do.”

Okay, that one was definitely on purpose. Suna has to restrain himself from glancing back at the look on your face - he’s a little afraid of what he’ll find.

“We were on the same volleyball team, you know.”

“I know that, too. I caught a couple of your games, when I could make the trip.”

Atsumu’s eyebrows lift impossibly higher, and he’s leaning forward to set his elbows on his knees.

You note that he doesn’t look as good as Rintarou when he does it.

“Oh, really? Then maybe - if you’re interested in volleyball - you might know that I went pro?”

Suna spears right through the last hot dog with one of his chopsticks. He’d heard Atsumu use that line on so many girls before you. Fuck the fact that it never fails – he’s irritated that Atsumu would even dare to use it on you in the first place.

A recycled pickup line. What does he take you for?

He waits for you to humor him, at the very least. Of course you know he went pro. You work in his brother’s onigiri shop. Osamu had gotten a TV installed for the sole purpose of airing Atsumu’s games live.

“Oh, did you? Sorry, I don’t really follow it anymore. Not since Rin stopped playing in college.”

It takes every single ounce of Suna’s strength to keep his smile down. He’s never seen such a clean shutdown in his life.

Apparently, neither has Atsumu. The man looks stunned, like he doesn’t know how to respond. Suna takes the opportunity to pack up his empty bento, laying the chopsticks flat on the lid. He falls back into the couch with a satisfied sigh, unknowingly nestling his head into the space where you’re leaning.

You drop your arm around his shoulders with a smile. He turns to look at you, not realizing how close he is until it’s too late. His eyes widen just a fraction, and he’s turning away quickly to stare down at his lap, but you can see the color filling his cheeks.

“Was lunch good?”

Suna just hums, adding a shallow nod after the fact. He clenches his jaw when he hears Atsumu scoff across the room.

“Dude, she made you a whole feast and all you do is nod ?” The blond puffs his chest out, meeting your eyes again. You smile sweetly, excited to see what he’ll try next. “You should make me lunch next time, Y/n. I’ll treasure it, I promise.”

Your grin grows, and Atsumu looks proud of himself, but you’re only laughing because he’s had your cooking. More than once, in fact. But he’d always been too caught up in himself to notice.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Do you always bring Suna his lunch?”

You shake your head, leaning away from Rintarou briefly to reach for something in your bag. “No, it was just a quiet day at work. I guess everyone is enjoying the weather.”

You pull out a container full of cut watermelon and a fork, passing it to Rin as Atsumu’s asking a follow-up question.

“Where do you work?”

You smile to yourself, taking the lid from Rin. “I’m in the restaurant business.”

Suna stares down into the container. You’d cut the watermelon into star shapes.

“What, did you get fucking trigger happy with a new fruit cutter or something?”

You just shake your head curiously.

“No, I did it by hand. Why?”

Suna rolls his eyes with a smile as he takes a bite. Of course you did.

Atsumu clears his throat for your attention.

“Which restaurant? Maybe I’ll stop by during your next shift to say hi.”

Suna narrows his gaze at the man.

“What exactly do you think she does?”

Atsumu meets his glare, eyes wide.

“She said she was a waitress.”

You smile brightly at his response. Suna only scowls.

“Did she?”

In the blond’s defense, he does look to you right away, realizing he’s misunderstood.

“Oh, sorry - Did I…” He trails off when you laugh and shake your head.

“It’s fine. I spend most of my time in the kitchen, though, so I probably wouldn’t have time to say hi if you stopped by.”

Atsumu lifts his brows, clearly impressed. “Oh, shit, you cook? That’s pretty cool - my brother owns an onigiri shop, actually. You guys might get along!”

Suna purses his lips to hide his grin, shaking his head and stabbing at another piece of watermelon when you giggle and mumble ‘ Oh, really? ’ in response.

And then the door jingles out front, and Suna’s glancing at Atsumu. The blond makes no move to get up.

“You know, usually my secretary is the one to greet the clients.”

Atsumu barely spares him a glance, too focused on smiling at you.

“Yeah, well, your secretary also gets paid, so…”

Suna glares – he would rather choke than leave you alone in here with him.

You recognize the look in his eye, your smile full of affection.

“I should probably get back to work, anyway. My break ends in…” You check your watch. “Oh. Ten minutes ago.” You laugh loudly, rushing to pack up and slip your sandals on. Rintarou stands, propping the door open and poking his head out to wave at his 3 o’clock.

“Hey, sorry – I was just eating lunch.” You slip past him, all but jogging to the front. Atsumu’s not far behind, offering to walk you back to work. You brush him off quickly, glancing back at Suna as you hoist your bag over your shoulder.

“Pick me up after work, Rin? I want to go grocery shopping.”

Suna just nods, leading his client back to his station and waving at you. He catches Atsumu following you out briefly, and he hears something about asking for your number, but he just sits at his stool and shakes his head with a heated sigh. His client settles into the chair and slips off his shirt, revealing their current work in progress.

“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.”

Atsumu barges back into the shop a moment later, and Suna hears the blond flop down into the chair at the front desk and call back to him excitedly.

“ Dude, where have you been keeping a girl like that all these years?!”

Suna shakes his head again, trying to clear his mind so he can work. The response he mumbles to the client is bitter, even to his own ears.

“I don’t.”

–

“You’re quieter than usual.” You pick up another onion, examining it before setting it in the basket Rintarou’s holding.

“Funny.” He says nothing else, watching you glance down at the list in your hand before following you across the produce section to an area full of herbs like a dedicated boyfriend. There are two women not too far away, and when they spot the two of you – you in your pretty sundress with your bright smile, and him in all black with ink covering every inch of his arms and hands – they immediately start to whisper to each other, not even bothering to hide their glances.

You just pick up a bundle of cilantro, sniffing at it and humming in disapproval. You replace it and reach for another, the voices of the two women drifting through the otherwise empty area.

“ -had a man like that, I’d never let him out of the house-”

“Oh, my God, stop it! That’s so awful-”

“I can’t help it! Look at him, he’s perfect!”

You snort into the new bundle, barely hiding your smile as you reach for a bag to wrap it in. When you place it in the basket, you find Rintarou glaring at a display of parsley like he’s trying very hard not to listen, the tips of his ears red. You grin widely, shaking your head as you move down just a bit to reach the basil.

A bunch near the back of the display catches your eye, and you’re leaning forward to grab it. It’s just a bit too far out of reach, the tips of your fingers barely brushing on it. You’re about to ask for Rin’s help when the voices reach your ears again.

“- not sure what he’s doing with a girl like that, though…”

“Yeah… I mean, she’s pretty-”

“I don’t know, I just feel like I would take care of myself a little bit more if I wanted to keep a guy that hot.”

You blink, the heat of humiliation familiar in your cheeks. You’re used to moments like these – you and Rin had always looked out of place together, always at odds with people’s expectations. And you’re no fool – you know what Rintarou looks like. How attractive he is.

If you’d been any younger – any less secure in yourself – you might have felt like crying when you heard that. Luckily, you’re not, but… it’s still not a fun experience.

“ -do we even know if they’re together? She’s probably not even his type. ”

“ Do you think they’re not? Maybe I should go over there and try talking to him.”

Their giggles feel a lot like the ones from high school, from elementary school. Girls who’ve decided you aren’t a threat to them because you look like this .

That’s fine. It’s not like they’re wrong. You and Rintarou aren’t together, so that woman can do whatever she wants-

There’s a clatter as a basket hits the floor, and a tattooed arm is reaching past your face before you can process that it was your basket. The cold metal of Rin’s lip ring against your ear contrasts with the heated sigh he breathes into your skin, and you feel the front of his jeans pressing into the curve of your ass.

Oh.

His other hand finds your waist, the heat of his palm searing through the thin fabric of your dress. Your skin starts to burn where his fingertips dig into your hip.

Oh.

Were his hands always that big?

You watch with unseeing eyes as he wraps his hand with ease around the bunch of basil you’d been struggling to reach, the difference in your height suddenly painfully clear.

“ They couldn’t have me even if they begged for it .” His voice presses into the shell of your ear, the sound ricocheting around your head. You can hear the irritation in his voice, but you can’t focus on anything except the fact that he’s never been this close before.

It’s devastatingly intoxicating.

He leans away after a breath, fingers dragging on your waist as he drops his hand, and you have to force yourself to remember that you need to stand up straight. Only when you spin around, watching Rintarou reach for the discarded basket as you press cold fingers to your flushed face, do you realize that the women are gone.

You crack a weak joke when he stands to full height, desperate for anything to break the sudden silence around you. Just so Rin doesn’t end up hearing how hard your heart is beating.

“Not even if they begged for it, huh?” You laugh, looking away from that piercing stare. “Can’t imagine what a girl like me would have to do, then.”

Well, that certainly hadn’t helped anything.

He just stares, eyes wide. You panic, meeting his gaze briefly before looking away again when you find nothing but his shock. When you look down at your list, trying to remember what you’d come here for, you see that the paper is crumpled in your fist – evidence of your nerves.

“Breadcrumbs. N-Need breadcrumbs.” You mumble to yourself and turn away, heading to another aisle. The brand you like is on the top shelf, so you just point to it, because you really don’t need a repeat of the Basil Situation in the middle of your recovery.

“Well-” Rintarou breaks the silence this time, letting you take the basket while he reaches up. “-you did have a professional volleyball player thirsting after you just this afternoon, so you could probably have whatever you wanted without begging for it.” He examines the label as if he cares at all what it says. “That is, of course-” He meets your eyes, setting the can of breadcrumbs in your hand.

“-unless that’s your thing.”

Your lips part in surprise as Rin stares down at you like he hadn’t just insinuated that you might be one to beg him for something.

“Uhm-” You don’t know why you started talking. You have nothing to say. There is nothing that could be said right now, when all you can do is look at him.

He’s kind enough not to revel in your stunned silence, a grin peeking out as he reaches out and plucks the list from your hand. He says nothing about the fact that it’s violently crumpled and a little warm from how hard you’d squeezed it.

“What’s next-” He breathes it out, as if he can’t feel the weight of your stare on his face. He hums when he finds it. “Chicken.” He meets your eyes again, gaze searching yours. You blink rapidly and look away, mumbling the word ‘ chicken ’ under your breath as you lead the way down the aisle.

You’d always known Suna Rintarou was different. You’d known from the moment you’d met, those eyes uncaring even as a child. You’d known when he’d decided silently that you were his new friend, that no one else could be your friend the way that he was.

You’d known whenever the rare boy in junior high would try to flirt with you, because Suna Rintarou was the name they would whisper furiously to their friends after their failed attempts. Suna Rintarou was the boy in school they had to look out for, because he was always right beside you. He would never say anything, watching you politely interact while they’d flirt, but his empty stare was always enough.

It was enough that, even though he’d moved two hours away to an entirely different prefecture, his name had followed you to high school. Boys in high school were meaner – more judgmental of your appearance – so it never really mattered. But the girls would whisper about you, until your whole class knew the name of a student who didn’t even go there.

‘Claimed’. ‘Taken’. ‘His’.

Suna Rintarou’s girl.

You’d never minded. In fact, you’d secretly enjoyed it – being part of those rumors that blew up and spread until some boys wouldn’t even approach you for homework help. You’d thought it was funny. They were so scared of a person who was nowhere near them, of a relationship that didn’t exist.

It was only when you moved to Tokyo with him for college that you’d realized that maybe your classmates had been right.

Living together for the first time, you’d realized just how much of your life was taken up by him. Every morning, every break, every meal. Even if you weren’t physically together – the Nutritional Sciences Department was irritatingly far from the Art Department – those moments always involved him. A text during your quick lunch break with a friend. A call while he was heading to his next class. A walk home, because he’d waited outside your department until you were done with meetings for the day, sketching art into his skin with a ballpoint pen to keep from getting bored.

And even though the new friends you’d made knew he was nothing to be afraid of, there was nothing that could stop them from saying those words again.

That you were Suna Rintarou’s girl.

And why wouldn’t they? The evidence against it wasn’t convincing in the slightest. Not when Suna was a wall to any girl who was interested in him, his attention wholly yours. Not when he hadn’t even bothered to look up from his YouTube video when you’d asked one night if he wouldn’t be interested in spending time with any of those girls. Not when his response was immediate and clear, like he’d never consider it.

‘ Why would I? I have you.’

That had been almost 5 years ago, and you hadn’t asked him something like that since. You’d just let yourself get used to the fact that it was obvious now–

The way his eyes search for you immediately in a crowded room.

The way he lets you fall asleep in his bed while he sketches out ideas for his clients on his iPad.

The way he’d stabbed the octopus-shaped hot dog bites in his bento like they’d personally offended him while Miya Atsumu was flirting with you.

You know now, probably more than even he does, that you’re his. You’ve accepted that fact with whatever it means, platonic or otherwise, because it had always been that way.

20 years, it had been that way.

So why – why the fuck – did he have to go and do something about it now , in the middle of a grocery store on a random Friday evening?

–

Suna hates that his heart skips whenever the bell above the shop door jingles. He hates that, for the last two days, he’s glanced over at the door every single time, hoping it was you.

He’d known you wouldn’t show. You usually don’t. But… something had changed between you two. Ever since the he’d handed you a can of fucking breadcrumbs and not-so-subtly hinted that you might be a girl who’s into begging.

He wants to hit himself over the head with the nearest blunt object.

He sighs, shaking his head, and pulls open the cabinets in the back room. The weekend had been hectic with appointments – it was enough to keep his thoughts occupied – but Mondays are notoriously slow, and now he’s stuck back here doing inventory and thinking about you.

The bell jingles outside again, but he’s got two artists and a piercer on shift today, so he can’t possibly be needed for anything outside of his appointments.

But then the door to the back room is slamming open, and the person he wants to see least in the world right now is barging through.

“ Why didn’t you tell me that Y/n works at Onigiri Miya?!”

Suna stares, unblinking.

“Who let you back here? They need to be fired.”

“Suna-” Atsumu tries to grab for him, but the man is quick to smack his hands away with the clipboard he’s holding. “-I need you to be honest with me.”

“What?” It comes out in a sigh, Suna counting stock on the first shelf of the cabinet he’s staring into.

“Are you hitting that?”

He loses count.

One breath, just enough to steady his growing agitation.

He starts counting again.

“Am I hitting what ?”

“ That .” Suna makes the mistake of glancing back at Atsumu – the man is gesturing in the space between them, making the shape of your ass and the curve of your breasts right in front of him. “I mean… Jesus, dude.”

Suna wonders if there are any more clipboards in the shop, because he’s thinking of smashing this one into Atsumu’s face.

“Care to be a little more respectful?”

Atsumu waves him off. Suna’s grip tightens on his clipboard. One little swing wouldn’t kill him.

“Are you fucking her or not?” When Suna’s lips part with surprise, his gaze finally showing a glimpse of emotion as he turns to tear into Atsumu, the twin cuts him short, oblivious. “Because if you’re not, can I have her?”

Suna’s free hand shoots out, fisting Atsumu’s shirt tightly and dragging the shorter man toward him.

“Miya, I swear to God- ”

“ Ah .” Atsumu smirks up at him. “You do like her. No wonder she didn’t give me her number that day.”

“What?” Suna furrows a brow. You hadn’t given him your number? “Where the hell did that come from?”

Atsumu just points down at the fist Suna has curled into his shirt, as if it were obvious.

“You like her.”

Suna shoves him away, watching with satisfaction when Atsumu’s back slams against the cabinets over on the opposite counter, the blond wincing slightly. Still, he finds himself being examined with knowing eyes.

He turns away, because he’s not in the mood to be psychoanalyzed by Miya Atsumu on a Monday afternoon.

“How do you do it, man?”

Suna just grunts in response and starts taking inventory again, waiting for Atsumu to elaborate.

“How do you wake up every day in the same house as that and not lose your fucking mind-”

“Well, I start by having a shred of human fucking decency.” Suna almost tears the paper with how hard he’s writing. “Her body’s not the only thing worth looking at.”

There’s silence, and Suna glances over his shoulder again to find Atsumu just staring at him with deadpan eyes.

“No, really. How do you do it?”

Suna rolls his eyes and turns back to the cabinet, not wanting to admit that he has no fucking clue how he does it. But he has, on more than one occasion, had to rely on the self-control and discipline of a former athlete to keep him from snapping when you leave your room in the tight tank top and baby shorts you dare to call pajamas .

You’d been too self-conscious to wear revealing clothing in college – he’d had no idea how good he’d had it back then. Four years living with the girl who’d grown into a woman in the years of high school that you’d been apart. He’d managed to survive it, only to watch your self-esteem grow after graduation, and now he lives every day in his own personal hell.

He’s happy to see that the shy elementary schooler that used to cling to him had grown into this confident, successful woman – but fuck him, you really like to knock him on his ass when he’s least expecting it.

And when you’d laughed and asked him what a girl like you would have to do to get his attention, in the middle of a grocery store on a Friday evening?

He’d almost dropped everything and dragged you home just to show you.

But he hadn’t, and you two had acted like nothing had happened when you’d gotten home. You’d put the groceries away, and he’d ordered takeout for your movie marathon, and then later – when he was sure you were asleep – he’d taken a shower, praying to whatever higher power that might exist that the running water would mask the way he’d choked out your name when he had come all over his hand to the thought of fucking you in that dress.

“You know, Suna-” Suna shakes his head to clear it, moving on to the second shelf. He organizes as he starts counting. “-you might want to actually make a move instead of just hovering over her.”

“Oh, yeah? What would you know?” He mumbles it, his jaw clenched in annoyance as he makes a few more notes on the inventory sheet. Atsumu’s response is smug.

“Oh, I wouldn’t know anything. But I would think that you’d want to do something about the fact that she technically isn’t yours at all.”

Suna stills, his gaze blank as he stares down at the clipboard. What is that supposed to mean?

“She’s still single, you know. But-” He hears Atsumu lift away from the counter and move toward the door. The blond opens it, sighing back at him. “-I don’t know. Maybe she won’t be for long.”

And then he’s gone, the door slamming behind him.

Suna considers banning Atsumu from his shop entirely.

–

By the time Suna’s stepping through the door of Onigiri Miya, his mood has tanked significantly. He’d spent the rest of the work day in his office, ordering supplies and fighting off a headache with a third – and then a fourth – cup of coffee. And then he’d stared out the window, watching the sky darken and open up right in front of his eyes, the downpour sudden and entirely unmentioned by the weather app on his phone.

Still, he’d walked in the direction of the restaurant after closing up shop, his clothes soaked by the time he’s ducking into the air-conditioned restaurant.

“Oh-” He looks up through his dripping bangs at the sound, finding Osamu at the swinging door to the kitchen. The twin disappears without another word, returning a moment later with a towel. He throws it carelessly over Suna’s head. “You’ll get sick.”

Suna hadn’t even realized he was shivering.

“Thanks.” He pats at his clothes and skin and then leaves the towel on his head, following Osamu over to a table. The restaurant’s basically empty, but he spots several takeout orders at the counter. At least they still have good business on a day like this.

“Want me to get Y/n to make you something?” Osamu pulls out his order notepad, clicking his pen with an obnoxious grin. Suna just breathes out a laugh, shaking his head and scrubbing the towel through his hair.

“It’s fine. I don’t want to distract her.”

“Well…”

Suna meets his eyes. Osamu’s scratching at his neck awkwardly. “She’s already half-distracted, so…”

“What?” He stands, following Osamu to the swinging door. The twin pushes it open, revealing the kitchen on the other side.

You’re standing at one of the stainless steel counters with your back to the door, rolling rice balls as you laugh at something Atsumu’s just said.

“-don’t think that’s a good idea at all-”

“You aren’t even slightly curious about the idea of dessert onigiri?!”

“Not enough to waste ingredients on it!” You shake your head fervently, setting another rice ball down on the tray next to you. Atsumu smiles flirtily, leaning forward onto the counter across from you.

“What if I buy them? Free ingredients for you to experiment with, how’s that? You can come over to my place, and we can-” His gaze cuts over your shoulder, finding Suna’s cold glare. Osamu hums sympathetically, mumbling low so only Suna can hear.

“Sorry… I tried to keep him from noticing her.”

Atsumu grins as if he can hear perfectly well what his twin is saying. Suna swallows, the words ‘ maybe she won’t be for long ’ echoing in his head.

“It’s fine. It’s none of my business.” He doesn’t see the way Osamu blinks at him in surprise, too busy keeping his gaze trained on Atsumu’s.

You only now seem to notice the silence, your attention fully on the rice balls before. You hum in question and then turn over your shoulder when you see where Atsumu’s looking.

Atsumu doesn’t miss the fact that Suna only breaks eye contact for you.

“Rin!” Your eyes sparkle when you beam at him, and then you run to wash your hands. “Let’s go home! I thought up some new ideas for dinner – I want to try them out.”

Suna raises an eyebrow. Your shift doesn’t end for another half hour.

Atsumu’s grin grows on his face.

“Oh, sorry, man. ‘Samu let her off early because of the rain, but I guess we just got caught up chatting.”

You shake your head to yourself as you dry your hands and move to store the prepped rice balls for tomorrow’s batch. You can hear Atsumu trying to get under Rintarou’s skin.

He’d come in for lunch and only then realized that you actually work here, almost 3 years after you’d been hired. He’d disappeared after eating, and the smug look in his eye when he’d returned only 20 minutes later had told you that he’d certainly stopped by Suna’s shop to mess with him.

You’d already had a feeling, but that moment had solidified the fact that Miya Atsumu is not your type.

Still, you’d humored him all afternoon, dodging his obvious attempts to get a date out of you and paying more attention to Osamu when the owner would wander into the kitchen from the front, just so Atsumu doesn’t think he has a monopoly on your time.

And when you’d seen Rintarou at the door, wet hair falling into his eyes and cheeks flushed from the rain, you’d forgotten for just a moment that the twins were even in the room with you.

You rush to the back room after storing the rice balls, hurrying to put your apron away and grab your bag. The last few nights had been a bit strange, Suna’s walls coming up in the way they do only when he’s stressed. You hadn’t expected him to pick you up from work.

Maybe tonight would be different.

You hurry out to the kitchen, practically skipping up to him with a bright smile. He meets it with his usual deadpan.

“Stay here while I go down to the convenience store for an umbrella.”

You shake your head, latching onto his arm when he starts to turn away.

“Nope! We go together.”

He looks like he’s about to argue, but you’re already bidding farewell to the twins.

“See you tomorrow, ‘Samu!” You offer Atsumu nothing more than a wave, keep the interaction minimal.

When you and Suna are gone, running past the window toward the convenience store, Osamu turns to his brother with arms crossed over his chest.

“What are you doing?”

Atsumu just smiles to himself knowingly. He really had been interested in you. But it’s obvious that it won’t go anywhere — you won’t even give him the time of day, but it seems like you’d give Suna Rintarou the world if he asked for it.

“Giving Suna the push he needs, apparently.”

–

“Do you like guys like that?”

You turn to look at Rintarou, but he’s not looking at you. You’re at the stove, mixing the last of the ingredients into the pasta dish you’d wanted to try, and he’s at the counter setting out some bowls and utensils.

Still, it doesn’t slip your notice that he’d kept his back to you when he had asked.

“Guys like what?” When he doesn’t respond, you realize what he’s referring to. You watch him with a growing smile, glancing back at the stove only to turn the burner off. “Guys like Miya Atsumu?”

His clenched jaw tells you everything. All you can do is snort, hiding your smile behind your hand. He turns to you now, incredulous that you would laugh at him.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing-” You keep laughing anyway. “I’m just wondering if you’re genuinely asking if I’m into another man.”

His eyelids flutter as he turns away, processing what you’ve just given him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“Rin-” You sigh. “Why are you asking?”

He says nothing for a minute, just moving out of your way so you can scoop pasta into each of the bowls. “I’m just curious. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

He’s always been so good at pretending he doesn’t care.

“Okay.” You smile innocently, setting the pot back on the stove and preparing to try your first bite. Waiting, because you’ve never been anything but entirely open with him, and you just know it’ll drive him crazy that you’re keeping him in the dark about-

“Why didn’t you give him your number?”

You laugh louder this time, blatantly in his face. He shoots you a glare.

“ What? ”

“Rin, are you trying to set me up with your best friend from high school?”

“I’m not-” He rolls his eyes. “That’s definitely not what I’m doing.”

“Then why are you asking?” You turn toward him, setting your fork back into the bowl. “What are you trying to figure out?”

“I just want to know if you like him. That’s it.”

“Would it matter if I did?”

He meets your eyes, confused.

“What? Obviously.”

“Why? It never mattered before.”

He blinks rapidly. “What…? When?”

You sigh, staring down at the counter.

Does he really not get it? Has he really been this blind all these years?

“Why did you do… what you did? On Friday.”

He flushes immediately. “Because they were being rude.”

“You could have just told them off. Or glared at them. Or done anything but that -”

“Are you saying I shouldn’t have done it?” He’s getting defensive, not used to having his actions questioned by you. Never by you.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m just asking why you did it.”

“Because they were making assumptions about you, and they were definitely making assumptions about me.”

You search for his gaze, but he won’t give it to you. He just stares off to the side, down the hallway of your apartment.

“Right. Assumptions about my body, assumptions about your type.” He shakes his head, scoffing as if he’s filled with renewed irritation. “But we’ve been surrounded by assumptions our whole lives.”

Now he meets your eyes, a brow furrowed. You lean back against the corner of the counter, breathing out a laugh. “You really never noticed? Not once?”

You feel yourself grow frustrated when he just stares, eyes blank. Had it really just been you all this time? Experiencing the consequences of being claimed by a man who didn’t even realize he had done it. A man who, you now think, had lived a life without ever once feeling the weight of everyone’s eyes on him.

A man who looks like that , who can have whoever he wants, and a girl who looks like you . A girl who might have had a chance to date or find love when everyone else was, if boys hadn’t gone out of their way to avoid you just so they wouldn’t upset him .

You know, even just thinking about it now, that you wouldn’t have been interested in anyone else anyway. It just hurts to know that you’d gone about your life under the impression that you were his, when you now have no idea if he was yours this whole time, too.

Rintarou breathes your name, cautious. An unspoken question – why are you upset with him?

“Did you ever date, Rin? When we were in high school?”

Suna furrows a brow.

“No…?”

“Why not?”

Because I was yours.

He blinks and looks away. He doesn’t know if he can say that to you.

“Because I had you.” He thinks that’s close enough.

But your frown is deepening, and he realizes that it’s not nearly close enough.

“Do you know why I never dated?”

He searches your gaze, hating that it’s cold.

“You never mentioned being interested in anyone…”

“Because I wasn’t.” Your jaw clenches and you cross your arms over your chest. “Because I already belonged to someone – someone who made that fact very clear to any guy that could have possibly been interested in me.”

His lips part in surprise, and he looks like he wants to say something when he realizes what you’re saying.

But you just look away and slide your bowl toward yourself, shaking your head as you twirl pasta around your fork.

“I didn’t realize that it might be one-sided — that maybe he didn’t belong to me . But I guess that’s just my fault for not asking. My bad.” It’s impossible not to see how bitter your smile is when you lift the fork to your lips and finally take your first bite.

Suna just stares when you hum and nod. There’s sauce on the corner of your mouth, a little more on your bottom lip. “‘s pretty good. I think you’ll like it.” A simple evaluation of your own cooking, as if you hadn’t just stopped time for him with the admission of your pain.

Pain that he’s realizing could have been prevented if he weren’t so fucking avoidant.

He steps toward you after a breath, reaching out and brushing his fingers across your knuckles just as you’re moving to grab another bite. Your fork clatters into the bowl when you pull away from the touch. You cross your arms and look away, avoiding his gaze.

But he steps too close, hovering over you in that corner of the counter. Only when his hand slips past the curtain of your hair and cups the back of your neck – the other presses into the countertop beside you, trapping you there – do you meet his eyes, your own wide with surprise.

“Wha-” The rest catches in your throat, because he’s dipping his head toward yours, hooded eyes examining something on your cheek. You stare past him, unable to find your breath, and feel the exact moment when your heart leaves your chest and makes its home in the base of your throat.

Rintarou presses his lips to the corner of your mouth, not enough to be a kiss but far too close to ever be able to take it back. But when you feel the pass of his tongue over your skin, burning into that spot and making it his, you realize that he’s not planning to draw that line with you again, the one that had always been there.

He’s going to erase it entirely, with the determination of a man who hates that it ever existed in the first place.

“You’re right. It is pretty good.” He breathes the words into that spot, and you realize that he’s talking about the food.

“Can I try more?”

He gives you no time to wonder what that means – no time to wonder ever again what he’s trying to say.

His lips push against yours, full and warm and everything you’d imagined they’d feel like. You gasp and pull away in surprise, but he’s there again, leaning forward to keep you right where he wants you.

You can feel heat radiating off of his face, cheeks flushed and warm on yours when you cling to the front of his shirt, unable to do much else. He smiles against your lips and breaks the kiss, still close enough that your shallow pants mix in the space with his as you catch your breath, both of your chests heaving.

“What was it that your friends from college used to call you? That name that would make you blush.” You’re unable to look away from his lips, unable to understand that you can still feel the memory of them on yours. He smiles and leans close, mouth hovering over yours when he whispers. “‘ Suna Rintarou’s girl ’? Was that it?”

You flush, your eyes drifting shut when you feel him closing in on you again.

“So you did notice…”

“I didn’t know about high school. You never told me.”

“I didn’t think I needed to-” You can’t look at him. It’s too much, too overwhelming. “I took it for granted. That I was yours-”

“ Good .” He’s all you can feel, all you can smell and hear and touch. He’s everywhere. “You were supposed to take it for granted, that was the point.”

His fingers close around your jaw, squeezing your cheeks and tilting your face up toward his. You know he can feel your racing pulse at the side of your throat. “Because you’re mine. You were always mine, and I made sure everyone knew.” His nose brushes against yours, breath warm on your lips. “But I guess I wasn’t clear enough… was I?”

You swallow hard, feeling the shallow laugh he breathes out when you don’t answer him.

“You’re my girl, aren’t you?” His bottom lip brushes against yours when he whispers to you. “And you were right to feel safe in that fact. Because I never looked at anyone else, not once.”

‘ Why would I? I have you.’

Those words from 5 years ago come back to you, along with memories of the way he’d ignored the existence of any girl that would approach him, for as long as you can remember.

“And those women in the grocery store? Talking about how you’re not my type?”

You’re distinctly aware of how the hand he has on your face is starting to pull you closer, his own mouth drifting away to keep the sliver of distance between you.

“They must not have properly looked at you, Y/n.” He smiles softly down at you when your eyelids flutter open briefly at his words. “How could you not be my type? My type is you.”

The push of his lips on yours comes this time with his hands on your waist, tugging you toward him. He wraps an arm around you and lifts you without warning, setting you on the counter just as you’re gasping into his mouth.

He fills the space between your thighs the moment you spread them, one hand on the small of your back and the other cupping your neck. You fist the front of his t-shirt, anchoring yourself to him and keeping him close.

You never want to let him go.

“ I’m yours, Y/n. ” He mumbles the admission against your lips, finally confirming what you’d been worried about. “I’m yours, you hear me?”

His mouth drops to a spot under your ear, his voice filling your senses as his fingers play with the top button of your shirt.

“Want me to tattoo it on my skin? Just tell me where – I’ll have it done by the end of the night.”

The button comes undone, and he’s quick to move to the next one, thumb and pointer finger working efficiently down the line as his other hand slips around your waist and pulls your hips to the edge of the counter, flush to his.

Your breath comes shallow when your shirt finally falls free, because he’s pressing his hand to the spot just under the curve of your breast and pushing his lips against yours possessively – claiming you. You can’t feel your fingers when you card them through his hair and pull him close, your skin filled with a tingle that spreads over your body like a sickness. Even your head is staticky, plagued by that tingle. Rendering you defenseless to him – Suna Rintarou.

“ I love you .”

You whisper it without thinking, Rin’s mouth stilling on yours. He pulls away, staring down at you with wide eyes. Your heart drops to your stomach when you realize what you’d said, and your face burns when he just stares, dumbfounded.

“I-”

“Again.” He looks entranced, gaze glued to your lips while he waits. Because he’d felt you say the words, but he wants to watch you say them – wants to witness it with his own eyes, because he’s terrified it hadn’t actually happened.

You wet your lips nervously and repeat yourself.

“I love you, Rintarou.”

The three syllables of his name fall past your lips, stacking on top of each other just like the words right before them and stealing the breath right out of his lungs.

When he kisses you, it’s with an urgency that hadn’t been there before. Your back slams against the cabinet when he presses into you, but you don’t notice anything except the slide of his palms on your thighs as his hands disappear under the hem of your skirt.

His pointer fingers hook into the waistband of your underwear, tugging impatiently until you lift your hips. They’re gone and on the floor before you’ve fully processed that you’d just let him take your panties off. That this is going somewhere, fast .

“Sorry, that probably wasn’t very hot-” Rintarou’s mouth is in the crook of your neck, his teeth brushing against your skin in a way that makes you shiver and slide your fingers through his hair. “In my head, it was slow and sensual, but-” His hands slide over your thighs again, fingers digging into the plush skin as he pries them just a little further apart. His lips twitch against your throat, a smile sneaking through as he laughs breathily.

“-I’ve never felt this desperate before.”

You whimper when he pulls your hips to his, the front of his jeans pressing up against your bare core and sending a shock flying up your spine. Your fingers tighten in his hair, and he sucks harshly on your throat.

You feel it, too – that desperation to just make him yours. To make this the truth, after so many years of just saying it was.

“‘s okay,” You pant, feeling his fingers dancing along your inner thighs toward a spot that’s extremely warm right now. “You can just make it slow and sensual next time.”

He breathes a heated sigh against your skin, the words ‘ next time ’ mumbled back to you, like he can’t believe that next time even exists.

And then he lifts his head and plants his lips on yours, his thumb finally sliding along your folds and finding your clit with terrifying precision. You gasp, and he swallows the moan that falls past your lips when he circles that little bundle of nerves, the same way you would when you would think about him late at night.

He does everything the way you’d always wanted – slides his fingers through your folds, buries them inside of you, and curls them against your walls in a way that has you seeing stars. He does it perfectly, all while kissing you stupid and whispering your name like he’s trying to decide exactly where it would look best on his skin, permanent and for the world to see.

He touches you like he’s always known how, as if this isn’t the first time. As if his heart isn’t about to rip out of his chest from the way you’re gasping his name, those three syllables stacked on top of each other in your mouth.

And when you finally come undone, your face buried in the crook of his neck as you cry for him, he’s saying it back – the words that he needs you to hear.

“ I love you .” He feels your tears soak through his shirt as your walls tighten around his fingers, and your body starts to tremble in his arms as you gasp for breath. “I love you, Y/n- I’ve always loved you, from the day that we met-”

“ Rin-” Your arms curl around his shoulders, and you cling to him as you come down from your high. He holds you close and kisses you, letting you recover.

Eventually, you breath a harsh sigh and meet his eyes, your cheeks flushing when you see how he’s looking at you.

“Hi…” You mumble it in embarrassment, and then jolt in shock, because he’s wiggling his fingers playfully inside of you when he responds.

“Hi yourself.”

You smack his arm and look away, eyelids fluttering when he pulls out of you and sets his hand safely on your thigh. And then you let him kiss you, soft and slow like your eyes aren’t still blurry with tears from how hard he’d made you come.

Suna pulls away, eyes roaming your face. Your skin is flushed red, just like his own, and you’re wiping unshed tears from your eyes, your expression laced with embarrassment when you realize he’s just watching you.

You cross your arms over your chest, pulling your shirt closed self-consciously – you feel strange, letting him see all of your rolls and stretch marks. His eyes are lingering on those spots, and you feel like he’s seeing too much. Seeing the things you were worried about showing him, because you thought in the back of your mind that maybe he would decide then that he didn’t want you, after all.

Rintarou lets you cover yourself, lets you drape your shirt over your chest and hide your tummy with your arms. He watches with a blank expression, gaze flicking between your movements and your eyes like he knows exactly what you’re thinking. But when you try to cover your thighs – try to move his hands so you can pull your skirt down – he sighs softly, knowingly, and stops you.

His hands catch your wrists, and he presses them together in your lap, locking them tight with one hand while he uses the other to undo all your work, those uncaring eyes unbearable warm on your skin.

Tugs your shirt open with a pointer finger.

Pushes the hem of your skirt back up your thighs.

Leans down to press his lips to the tops of your breasts, an open-mouthed kiss over your racing heart.

He mumbles all the while, his mouth tracing a path up past your collarbones and toward your neck.

“There you go again-” A nip to the column of your throat, a pass of his tongue over the spot to soothe the pain. “-listening to the wrong people.”

He leans away, watching how his hands look on you, tattooed fingers kneading into unmarked skin – like he’s tainting you. Ruining you for anyone else.

The thought makes him grin, worsened when you look up at him with those wide, innocent eyes.

“My sweet girl.” He smiles grows at your blush, and he’s reaching to push your shirt off your shoulders. You let him, even though you look nervous at how much he’s going to see. He drags the fabric down your arms, but he stops when it pools around your elbows. A gasp falls past your lips when he yanks the material taut suddenly, your forearms pulled together and the swell of your breasts forced out toward him.

He eyes them hungrily, his smirk dark when you whisper his name nervously, your arms tangled up in your shirt.

“Why do you let other people get in your head?” He drags his gaze down your chest to your tummy and thighs, his tongue poking out briefly to wet his lips. “Have you seen yourself? You’re so soft – you know how many times I’ve thought about putting my hands on you?”

You breathe harshly, your chest heaving and snapping his attention back to it. Without taking his eyes off of your breasts, he reaches for you shoulders, sliding your bra straps off slowly, one at a time. And then he hooks a finger into one of the cups, meeting your eyes.

“Are you ready to start listening to me instead?”

You swallow, nodding shallowly. He keeps you entranced, keeps your gaze locked on his, even as he’s tugging both cups down past your chest, officially leaving you completely exposed to him.

And then he drops his gaze, and you watch his eyes widen slightly, his lips parting as he takes you in. He barely notices when you move, your tied hands inching forward in front of you until you’re close enough to touch the tips of your fingers to the front of his jeans.

He flinches immediately, his eyes flying down and then back to yours when he realizes what you’re doing. You watch his eyelashes flutter when you become bold enough to press the flat of your hand against him, and you finally feel just how hard he is.

The pit of your stomach twists with arousal as you palm him gently, and your heart is thumping harshly in your chest when his hips jut forward of their own accord, chasing the feeling of your hand on him.

You feel time slow to nothing when you reach to undo his jeans, because he’s dropping his gaze to watch what you do. The sound of the zipper makes him tense, and you watch him swallow harshly when you slip your hand down the front of his jeans, cupping him through his boxers.

Your own breath comes shallow, skin tingling where he digs his fingers into your thighs, anchoring himself to you. With a steadying breath, you reach into his boxers, wrapping your hand around him.

And then you get distracted, because Rintarou is breathing out a moan and dropping his head back, eyes fluttering shut and lips parting with pleasure as he goes. You watch him closely, heartbeat rushing in your ears, as you slide your palm against him slowly.

“ Fuck- ” He breathes it out, Adam’s apple bobbing when he swallows harshly. You keep your eyes on him, stroking him slowly and watching his every reaction.

Suna drops his gaze to your hand, and he moans again, eyes rolling into the back of his head. Because watching you do this to him just like he’d always imagined – your hand wrapped around him like that, so much smaller than his own, with your thighs spread for him and your breasts spilling out of your bra, your tongue poking out past your lips as you concentrate – it might just be a little too much for him after all.

You work him closer and closer to the edge, entranced by the way his chest heaves, the way he mouths your name silently as he unconsciously pushes his hips to meet the base of your fist every time you slide against him.

And then his hand is snapping down over your wrist, stilling your movements. You jump, staring up at him as he hovers over you, breathing harshly. He leans his forehead against yours, shaking his head.

“Too close…”

You pout, wanting to watch him come undone the way you had. Wanting to make him yours.

“But… I want you to…”

His response is a breathless laugh, eyes still shut tight.

“You’re gonna have to try harder than that.”

‘-you could probably have whatever you wanted without begging for it.’

Your heart pounds in your head when the memory comes to you, just a few days ago.

Oh, how you’d never imagined that you’d be here now.

You tilt your head up toward him, lips brushing against his. He leans into it, eyes fluttering open to stare down at your mouth.

‘-unless that’s your thing.’

“…Please?”

Suna’s breath catches in his throat, and his gaze is locking on yours, eyes wide. His grip on you loosens in surprise, and you’re guiding his cock toward you, past the hem of your skirt, never taking your eyes off of him. He swallows hard, eyes flitting between yours nervously.

He breathes out shakily when the head of his cock slides against your entrance, his eyelids fluttering as he dips his head down and swears against your mouth.

“ Shit… You’re killing me…”

You whine against him, feeling the tip bump gently against your clit when he shifts toward you. “ Please , Rin. Please. I need you-”

He snaps when you properly beg for him, a low growl trapped in his throat when he pushes his lips to yours roughly. Reaching up, he fists your hair in his hands and angles your head so he can mold himself to you. He surges forward, and your back slams into the cabinet again, his mouth firmly on yours.

And then he reaches down with his free hand, pushing your hands away so he can guide himself back to your entrance.

“ I want you to say it . That I’m yours .” He murmurs against your mouth, and you mewl in response, because he’s pushing into you slowly. He stops and pulls his lips away when you don’t seem to hear him, and you almost cry out in frustration. “Y/n.”

You glare up at him, your gaze cloudy, because he’s buried halfway inside of you and still has the audacity to think that you’re able to focus on anything else.

“ What ?”

He stares down at you, seemingly patient, but you can see the furrow of his brow and the set of his jaw. He’s trying hard to focus, too.

“Say I’m yours. Tell me, so I know you understand.”

Your heart drops to your stomach at his words, and you clench unconsciously around him. His eyelids flutter, and then his grip in your hair tightens.

“ Tell me , or I won’t move.”

You can’t help but laugh, even though it’s laced with a moan when he twitches inside of you.

“Why would you do that to yourself?”

He just tilts his head and smiles gently at you, like he’s not struggling immensely right now.

“So that you know that this isn’t just me claiming you.”

You breathe heavily as you stare up at him, your chest soaring with affection. And then you reach out to cup his face, stacking the syllables of his name once more, filled with love and the silent promise that you’ll continue to say it like that, for the rest of your life.

“Rintarou-” He sighs when you pull his mouth to yours. “ You’re mine .” You push your lips against his, soft. “You belong to me now, okay? You’re not allowed to go anywhere. I won’t let you.”

He tilts his head, kissing you slowly, murmuring against you. “Promise?” When you breathe a confirmation, nodding, he takes a breath. Gives you just a breath.

And then he pushes forward in the next, until his hips are flush against yours.

You moan into each other’s mouths, your body tingling at the stretch. He draws his hips back, moaning your name breathlessly, and then snaps them forward, his patience gone.

You can only cling to him, burying your face in the crook of his neck, as he thrusts into you relentlessly. Your back slams into the cabinet with every snap of his hips against yours, filling the room with the sounds of your cries and the rhythmic promise of several noise complaints.

Rintarou barely notices, too lost in the feeling of you wrapped around him, tighter and tighter with every thrust. He pants into your ear, your name the only thing he has left in his head.

“I think you were made for me- ” He pulls back, pressing his forehead against yours so he can look at you. Your eyes are filling with tears again, and your voice cracks when you stutter over his name on the next thrust. “You fit so perfectly around me. Look-” He tangles his hand into your hair again, gripping tight and forcing you to look down with him.

You choke on a sob when you watch how he slams into you, and he’s quick to lift your head so he push his mouth against yours, claiming each and every sound that falls past your lips. “You were made for me-” It’s barely audible over the noises you’re making, increasingly louder the closer he pushes you to the edge. Your foot swings and catches on something behind Rin, something that falls to the floor and shatters on the other side of the counter. He doesn’t even hear it. “ Just for me .”

The coil in the pit of your stomach twists angrily, but it stands no chance of surviving when he reaches down and presses his thumb to your clit, just like he had the first time. The coil snaps instantly and without warning, and you’re throwing your head back against the cabinet as your vision goes white.

“ Rintarou- ” You think you might have screamed it, but your ears are ringing, because he hasn’t slowed down in the slightest. He just fucks you through it, his hips only stuttering when you clench tight around him. Only then does he slam his hands down on the counter on either side of you, his head buried in your neck.

He chokes on your name, and then you’re warm. Warm with the breath he heaves onto your skin, warm with the feeling of owning and belonging to him all at once. Warm as he spills into you, filling you up and making you his as he moans into your ear.

Finally, he stills. Slumps against you, chest heaving against yours as you comb your fingers through his hair with a trembling hand. He whispers against your skin, the ‘ I love you ’ just as warm as everything else, while he curls his arms around your waist. Eventually he lifts his head, bangs stuck to his forehead with sweat and his skin as flushed and hot as yours.

You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of seeing this side of him.

He presses his lips against yours gently as he pulls out of you, and then he mumbles that he’s going to get a wet rag for you. You’re strangely proud to see that your 6’2”, heavily pierced and tattooed gloom of a man actually loses his balance and stumbles slightly as he’s turning toward the hallway.

He glances back at you, embarrassed, and then breathes out a laugh when he finds you smiling lovingly up at him. He shakes his head, disappearing down the hall with a mumbled ‘ shut up ’.

He reappears a moment later, cleaning both of you up gently and kissing you every few seconds, just because he can. You lean lazily against the cabinet, your mind hazy and full of Suna Rintarou.

But then you glance down at the counter, and you’re tilting your head in confusion.

“Where’d the other bowl go?”

He hums curiously, realizing that there’s only one bowl of pasta there. You lean forward and peer over the edge of the counter, realizing what had shattered earlier.

“Oh.” His dinner is splattered all over the floor, the bowl in a million pieces.

Rin stares down at it, too, and then he turns to your bowl, lifting it toward you with a shrug.

“We can split this one.” He twirls some pasta around your fork and takes a bite. You watch him wince as he chews. He scowls slightly, setting the bowl back down. “‘s cold.”

You let out a laugh, pulling him toward you and giggling when he swallows the food with a grimace.

“We can just order takeout.”

He looks down at you, taking you in. You’re still undressed, skin still flushed, eyes still hazy in your afterglow. And then he shakes his head.

“Yeah, I don’t think anything’s gonna be open.”

You frown, glancing at the clock on the stove. “It’s only 7.”

“Yeah. For now .” And then he lifts you, ignoring your protests as he walks the two of you down the hall to his bedroom. He throws you down on his bed carelessly and reaches to pull his shirt over his head.

You watch with wide eyes and a fresh sense of arousal when he drops to his knees in front of you and wraps his arms around your thighs, a smile tugging at his lips as he pulls you toward him impatiently.

“I’m not done yet."

#haikyuu #haikyuu smut #suna rintarou #suna rintarou x reader #suna rintarou smut

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admirxation · 15 days ago

Text

彡 𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟏𝐬𝐭 - 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐦𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

♡ 𝐬𝐮𝐦. Leon loves getting his secretary to do simple tasks for his watching pleasure (wc: ) -> this idea was given by @elfven-blog

𝐜𝐰 — afab!younger!subordinate!reader x Older!Superior!Leon S. Kennedy. 18+ smut mdni, dub-con/power imbalance, office au, bending over, Leon is pervy in this with making the reader bend over to reach for things, non-consensual skirt lifting, oral/blowjob, praise, titty fucking, and cum -> you've been warned; continue at your own discretion.

You sat at your desk as your fingers poised over the clacking keyboard, scrolling through countless emails and replying to them in a fake, overly nice manner. You were absolutely exhausted after starting this new job; you were thankful to have gotten it considering the current job market, but you couldn’t deny the developing eye bags that were forming. How heavy your eyes were that blinking was considered too dangerous, just in case you smacked your head on the desk and went to sleep.

It didn’t help that you had such a demanding boss. Leon S. Kennedy, CEO, and the boss you had to answer to as his secretary constantly.

Leon wasn’t a terrible person. He was quite sweet, and you were thankful for some of the good ways you had picked up on about him. However, you did feel uneasy about some parts of him, especially with the type of things he would be in demand for.

It starts as just a normal coffee and paperwork—normal for a secretary—then it escalates to helping him with his tie and his shoelaces and giving him a massage on his shoulders because “life is so stressful at the moment”. You didn’t mind entirely; it’s not like you disliked him, but you did have an inclination that those actions aren’t something you should be asking of your secretary and subordinate; you even mentioned this to your friends outside of work, and they felt uneasy about it, but it wasn’t like you were going to quit, that would be ridiculous, especially with the hurdles you had to go through in the interview process; you were sure you could handle a man’s creepiness. At least, that was the original thought before the day's events unfolded.

You tried your best to keep your gaze down and focus on the task at hand, sorting through your emails until you heard that buzzing-calling sound.

“Sweetheart, I need you.”

You heard Leon’s voice through the crackling sound from the box. He had this thing where he would never give you the respect—that he gave other colleagues—and call you by your title and last name; it was always terms of endearment like: sweetheart, darling, honey, but sweetheart was his favourite at the moment. You didn’t think much of it, only feeling that uneasy sense of weirdness as your face always scrunched up when hearing how his tone lingered on the syllables of endearment, but you thought nothing too bad would come of it; you just thought that it was an older man thing, that they didn’t mean it creepily—oh, how naive you were.

You rolled your chair backwards and opened his office door, seeing him in that smart-fitted suit as he folded his arms. His blue gaze looked upon you as it travelled from the top of your head to your high-heeled toes, taking in how your clothes hugged your frame and how you shuddered when he licked his lips, putting you under his arousing scrutiny.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he said in that tantalising smooth-toned voice, deep and warm as whiskey that made you feel a fuzzy feeling within your chest but also one that equally made your gut churn for a moment.

“Hello, Mr. Kennedy; what do you need today, sir?” you put on that fake customer-friendly smile everyone had in the workplace, ready to just get whatever task he wanted you to finish over and done with.

“Could you come here and proofread this for me? You’ve got a better eye for these things than I do,” he had in his hand a piece of paper with inked-out printing, some piece of paperwork you would have to check for typos or incorrect calculations… Like you were any good at it.

You gave Leon a quick nod before you let your heels click against the dark wooden floor, letting the room be filled with sensuality as you approached and let your shadow engulf him; you knew he was watching your reactions as your pupils darted from side to side to read the words and numbers, pretending like you were knowledgeable on the whole thing when matter-of-fact you weren't too familiar despite the basics of the basics.

Leon just stared—for a few moments—as he appreciated the woman that was right in front of him; he couldn’t deny the attraction he felt for you when he looked at your facial structure, the way your hair was styled around it, and the way that blouse hugged around your chest and skirt around your ass, he would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about throwing everything off of his desk and pounding right into you as he pins you down onto the hard surface. But, he needed to elongate the process before he got to the ending, which would make him happy.

When you put the paper down, ready to tell him that you found no errors, you heard the sound of something dropping onto the wooden panels; looking down, you saw a few pencils had scattered and rolled off the desk, seeing that it was obviously not an accident when you saw that sharp and tantalising smirk that felt like it was looming over you in its smug nature.

“Could you get those for me, sweetheart?” he asked you, presenting that innocent look despite the darkened clouds looming over his gaze, soon giving his true intentions away, but what were you gonna do? Say no? There wasn’t room to say that; he was your boss, and you needed to keep this job, so you let a faint smile curve for forced jollity as you bent over and picked up the pencils with a ‘yes, sir.’

You felt the unnerving casualness that made the air in the room feel thicker, the tension between you two thick enough to cut through with a knife. Picking up pencils is a small gesture, nothing to read into it, but it was quite the opposite with Leon; he made it into something bigger than it was when you felt his gaze stick onto you and make your heartbeat be heard in your ear drums as you kept your knees on the floor while you picked up the pencils… one by one… Until you felt something, something you didn’t think he would be so bold to do.

As you had been picking up the lines of graphite, he had tucked his leather shoe underneath your skirt and picked it up, making your eyes widen. Your heartbeat falls into the depths of your innards as cold sweat starts to rear its existence after the catalyst of Leon’s actions. You felt the tip of his shoe rub against the fat of your ass, and hearing his shallow breath add a hotter tension into the room that made you feel suffocated. All you did was look back as your body shook, feeling the nerves reverberate through you.

“S-sir… What are you-”

“Shh…you’re so pretty like this… on your knees,” he lifted your skirt even higher to expose the lacy thong and your exposed ass, “so sexy,” he continued to whisper his seductive praises.

He sat back in his chair, letting the tip of his shoe press into the fat that made a plushy indentation that made his cock twitch within his trousers; you were so vulnerable, so unknowing, and he just wanted to take you right then and there as he felt your shuddering body to his touch. His smirk only widened when he witnessed you trap your bottom lip into your teeth.

“Oh, do you like this, sweetheart?” He wasn’t going to make you answer; he liked you all nervous and too embarrassed to admit that you liked having your own boss appreciate and want to use your body. He felt like he had won the lottery with how willing your body was for him.

“Hm, I like having you around… It's so sexy when you walk around the place… but I want more than you just playing secretary,” he watched as your pupils swallowed the colour of your eyes as you looked at him through a shuddering chest from broken breaths, “turn around for me, I wanna see that pretty face more clearly.”

At your own volition, you quickly obeyed without hesitancy, watching as he opened his legs and the growing bulge that was starting to develop underneath his navy trousers, imminently making you blush as you watched how your body affected him, how just the sight of your panties was making him rock hard underneath the cloth.

“Now, sweetheart… You’re a good little secretary, aren’t you?”

“Mmhmm,” you nodded in your timid response as you looked up at him with those ‘fuck me’ eyes.

“Yeah, you are,” he bent over and cupped your face gently and making you subconsciously fit the curve of your cheek in his large palm; all those underlying thoughts of creepiness soon faded away as you felt the heat radiate off of his body, and who knows, there have been people who fuck their boss and get many advantages on top of a new partner. “How about you take care of me… I’ve been feeling so stressed… I’m sure you can help me out with that, can’t you?” his voice was just like whiskey, smooth in its feeling but also a sensation of burning with how warmth pooled around your core and started to soak around your slit as your clit throbbed under the desire to be touched and to touch him.

“What do… What do you want me to do, sir?” you whispered, almost pathetically, as your pillowy and glossy lips parted as if you knew exactly where this was going; you weren’t completely stupid.

“I wanna use that pretty mouth of yours for good,” he started to unbuckle his belt and fill the room with the metallic sound that made your pussy throb as he lifted up his hips to pull down the trousers and the boxers, and letting you look in surprise as his large cock sprung out in front of you, inviting and enticing you to be a dirty girl for him. “Be a good secretary and suck it… You wouldn’t want your boss stressed, would you?”

“No, No, I wouldn’t.”

Your core fluttered as slick started to press against the lace barrier. You heard Leon’s shallow breaths as your hands collected around the base of his cock, pumping his long shaft and feeling the prominent vein rub against your soft palms, watching as his reddened tip was already oozing and weeping out a pre-release for the anticipation of your warm mouth. You maintained your eye contact as you left a big, wet, long, stripe along his shaft before taking him in and releasing muffled moans as you watched his head kick back.

“Oh, fuck, yes, g-gods, you’re so good at that,” his fingers started to tangle in your previously neat hair, causing frizzy strands to strike up as he smoothed his palms over your scalp, gently bucking his hips to guide his cock further into the warm and soaking valley of your mouth and throat.

You softly gagged at the feeling of his fat cock pressing against the back of your throat; you loved this, feeling your glossy lips stretch around him and tasting his salty length as you continued to suck and feel him.

“A-aah, yeah, you’re taking me so well,” he whispered another praise before he started to feel a little greedy, “Why don’t you take that blouse off… I wanna see those pretty tits.”

You took your mouth off of him in a loud, wet popping sound that made him shudder as the cold air pressed against his cock; continuing to palm and pump his throbbing length as he watched you unbutton the silk blouse until it became discarded cloth on the floor, soon accompanied by your bra.

You felt that pleasurable tingling feeling within your walls and a heated coil that was heating up as it tied together tightly when you squeezed the mounds of your chest for him, letting soft whimpers protrude from your lips as you squeezed onto the sensitive buds when looking into his darkened gaze.

His presence was demanding, yet arousing at the same time; a superior shouldn’t be doing this to their secretary, but let’s be honest, the fantasy has been around for as long as can be remembered; it wasn’t like you were complaining than an attractive older man wanted to use you as a cocksleeve. Of course, there was the little voice in the back of your mind telling you that this power dynamic was wrong; you were his employee, and it was highly inappropriate for him to be treating you like this, but the libido soon squelched the rational down as your heated core was wanting to take him on further.

You made his head fall back onto the headrest of his office chair again when you continued to leave swirls from your tongue on the tip of his dribbling cock, tasting that salty and creamy precum as you watched his chest fall up and down in broken tandem to his laboured breaths. You could feel your panties become completely soaked when a slow gushing release came down in your finish as you wrapped your breasts around his large cock, and heard his sensual moans fill his office room up.

“Fuck, aaah, keep going, don’t stop, making me feel so good,” he kept caressing your cheek as he watched you leave kitten licks on the tip of your warm plushy breasts hugged around his shaft. “Such a perfect, sexy girl.”

You sucked on the tip of his fat cock, watching him bite his lip.

“I’m so close; stop for a moment,” you obeyed what he needed and stayed there with an open mouth and squishing your tits together as you watched him pump his cock with his fist before covering your chest with his thick, sticky, white load; feeling that coil snap back into an eased relaxation when watching him pant down from his high after covering you with his mark.

🏷️ taglist: @porcelainseashore @angelstargel @localkiss -> check out pinned post to be tagged; if you want to be deleted just message me.

a/n: this was requested by the lovely honey, please give her some love since without her I wouldn't have thought of this delicious concept. Kinktober is nearly over oh my god, I'm lowkey kinda sad but also happy cuz wow 31 days has been a mighty struggle I inflicted onto my myself, in future I'm just doing weekly oneshots if I ever wanna do it again. Anyways I hope you enjoyed this <3

#admirxation kinktober 2024 #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader smut #leon s kennedy smut #re leon smut #smut #resident evil smut #tw power imbalance #kinktober #dividers by cafekitsune

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