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almostfoxglove · 3 months ago

Text

AN END TO DROUGHT

written for @perotovar's offering of Frith

RATING: Explicit (18+) | PAIRING: Javier Peña x f!Reader GOD: Freyr God of fertility, harvests, and peace WORD COUNT: 5.4k CW: Smut (f!oral, m!oral, unprotected piv, creampie).

SUMMARY: The future of your family's homestead hangs in the balance as Javier Peña comes home in the middle of a drought.

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For two fortnights you’ve seen no rainfall. Not a single, silver drop. The orchard, rich with the stunted globes of pale apples not yet fully formed, withers browner every day. Leaves crisp and folded in prayer, the last-ditch desperation of dying fronds. You spend hours hauling well water to the rows of cropland on which your livelihood relies, but it isn’t enough. Each morning you wake to the sun rising phoenix-like on the horizon, hotter and more accusing than the day before.

You speak to the trees, the fledgling stone fruit, apologizing when there is no more water your body can carry, when the well runs dry.

Six generations your family has raised apples like they raised their kin.

Now it will die in this drought with you as its shepherd.

Hopeless in your waking, back throbbing, shoulders sore, you rise from your bed at the crack of a new dawn to the fragrance coaxed every Sunday by your mother’s slender hands. She is fragile now in that child-like way, skin thin and veins sapphire blue, hearing going, but sturdy, still, for you. Doesn’t matter that you’ve been grown for decades now, solely responsible for the farm and her mounting care—your mother bakes a pair of her grain-kissed boules every week without fail.

“There you are,” she says, when you are just two steps away. These days she cannot hear your footsteps on the stairs.

“Sit, now,” you say softly, slipping your hand over hers to take the bread knife, and with a soft tsk your mother surrenders before settling at the breakfast table.

You break bread together: salted butter swept glistening over the delicate crumb and sturdy crust, spoons of preserves canned the year before. Cinnamon and cloves, honey and stewed apples, wild pickled blueberries. It takes so long to notice the change in the air, but when you do it’s obvious—you aren’t sweating in the way you have for weeks. The house, once sweltering, has cooled ever so slightly. When you gaze out the windows into the orchard, the sky is no longer the blue you’ve come to resent, but a wash of cotton batting.

Clouds.

Your mother, thin wire glasses low on her nose, grins at your expression.

“He’s home,” she says.

“Who?”

Her smirk is the same as you remember it being when you were a girl. “The Peña boy,” she says, lifting her bread slice to her mouth. “Weather always fixes itself when he comes ‘round.”

You hum beneath your breath. You can picture him only vaguely—lean and liquid, little more than a silhouette in the distance on the other side of the fence that cages your family’s property from his. His father you know better, see often. Spiced apple cider traded for horse manure or Chucho’s brawn. Twice this past winter he fixed your fence after a furious storm and asked for nothing but a loaf of your mother’s bread in return.

Javier you’ve not glimpsed in a decade give or take, if you’re remembering right. Moved somewhere south for duty’s dauntless call.

In the lullaby of easy silence, you finish your meal, rinse the dishes, and walk out into the fields with the second loaf in hand where overhead the sky is performing a miracle befitting the gods: letting out the first tender, forgiving drops of rain. Your body brightens as you watch it freckle and darken the starving, yellowed earth.

A caw, something of a laugh, shocks loose from your chest—delight, pure in its relief.

Tracing the aisles of death-bed apple trees, you sweep your fingertips along their trunks. Water pools in the green spades turned to spoons for liquid crystal. The precipitation for which you’ve longed and begged and prayed: here, at last, to save the grange.

The rain picks up. Forceful in its abundance, peppering the sandy earth. Soon your boots stick as you walk between trees, dirt becoming mud, so you shield the boule beneath the leaf of your buttoned shirt.

At the end of the orchard, the log fence stands and the grass grows tall and clover-riddled, purple thistles starved yellow in the heat. You stride towards the fence, far beyond which the Peña house stands white and shingled, framed by the umbrellas of old oak trees that border the meadows in which their herd of equines laze back and forth, grateful as you for the merciful change in weather. It is beautiful here, though it’s easy to forget when all the season brings is wilting.

You hear him before you see him: a quiet, clicking tongue.

Then a mare picks up her cantor, spurred forth by Javier—indeed returned, wide in the shoulders and dark hair slicked by rain, out forty feet or so—tanned skin made gold around his eyes by yellow aviators, periwinkle shirt undone a button too low. More handsome than you remember, but it’s been a long time.

Your mother was right: it seems he brought the rain home with him.

As you come to a stop near the fence, tall grass clinging to your calves, his head turns slowly in your direction. Jaw working over something—gum, if you had to guess. You lift your free hand, show him your open palm, and he takes a last look at the horse before sauntering your way.

Like you, he’s undisturbed by the rain. No shelter-seekers here; you’re grateful enough to bathe in any storm. Come hell or high water—isn’t that how the saying goes? You’d swim any flash flood after all this unending dearth, drink any tidal wave.

“Heard you were home,” you call out over the pebbling downpour, watching his broad hand rake through his hair.

Much more handsome than you remember, the nearer he strides. Unhurried, Javier lifts his sunglasses off to slip into his shirt pocket and even from some way off you don’t miss the path of his brown eyes as he takes you in. Against your better judgment, the hungry stripe of his gaze flips something low in your stomach, something needy.

He stops just shy of his side of the fence, no more than an arm’s length away, as the splatter of kind weather kicks up the earth’s perfume.

“This morning,” he admits, his voice all gravel and mead. Low and heady, a little sweet. Not shy—his eyes drop again, this time to your stomach where you’re holding the bread beneath your shirt. Sort of useless now—the rain’s too strong to save it—so you draw it out, flashing him by accident a glimpse of your bare stomach where his gaze stays pinned.

Then, bread rising in your hand, seeded crust glistening as it speckles wet, his eyes at last leave you to follow it. “Ma thinks you brought the rain,” you say, not bothering to hide your smirk.

The corner of his mouth pulls into his cheek. “That so?”

You shrug, loaf held like a waitress’ tray not yet offered. “Accordin’ to her.”

To your surprise you see in his eyes what appears to be timidity—perhaps bashful to be given credit for the sudden end to the wrecking drought he’s no doubt heard about. With a sweep of your arm, you present the bread in your outstretched hand and one dark brow rises high on his head.

“Before it’s drenched,” you insist, and Javier takes it, smile lopsided and pretty.

Above the chuffing sound of a horse grazing on the trampled grass, the sky splits like a seam and sunlight cuts through the cloud’s white cover, throwing down a ribbon of yellow that licks the stables.

Javier tilts the bread in his hands, inspecting the ear, the crust. Flashes those dark eyes back at you, exacting and tender at the same time.

“Our way of saying thanks,” you say, already stepping backward, toward the apple trees. “Neighbor.”

The rain doesn’t stop for three days—just long enough to wash the ash of long-snuffed forest fires from the orchard’s leaves. When the sun returns whole and yolk-gold to the sky, it brings heat of a kinder type. Warm for the growing things but barbless in its licking flame. You swear in just three nights the orchard lifts itself from its stupor—broadens, stretches, unfurls new leaves.

Your mother bakes like she’s got an army to feed and doesn’t wait till Sunday to do it.

“Take them, take them,” she insists, as fragile in stature as she is adamant in tone. Such a small, hunched little thing. “Least we can do.”

“Ma,” you sigh, powerless to her persistence, how she rests the arched handle of a basket in your hand for you to take. “You don’t seriously think he—”

She tuts softly, shoos you with one pallid hand before re-knotting the bow of her apron behind her back. “Just be grateful,” she says. “S’only right.”

Might as well be a girl again because here you are, obedient. Carrying the basket of seeded bread across the grass, between reborn apple trees, the fragrant orchard rows that days ago seemed doomed to die. Your heart thuds, surrendering itself to gratitude. Suppose it doesn’t hurt anything to take the Peñas bread.

Javier’s out in the pasture cleaving a rotten log from a sunken fence panel with an axe. White t-shirt translucent and clinging to the muscle that banks his back, he heaves the blade down with a biting crack and a grunt. Your footsteps give you away—he straightens as you hop the fence between your properties and land on his side, halting his rhythmic swinging.

As he turns, face halved by the shadow of an oak looming overhead, eyes squinting to make you out in the light, Javier cocks an eyebrow, dimple winking in his cheek.

“Neighbor,” he says, unabashed, now, in his lingering gaze. Dark curls cling to his temples and forehead, licked by sweat, across which he wipes the back of his forearm before setting the axe down against the fence.

Growing up on adjoining farms never sowed friendship between you—you’d estimate you’ve exchanged no more than a couple hundred words in damn near four decades—but there is in Javier a certain familiarity. A sense of him fitting into the landscape, reliable as an oak always looming in the distance. As constant as these valleys and hills, as the house beyond his muscled shoulder. Never something to acquaint yourself with, but something to rely upon.

Peculiar to stand before him now—twice in the same week—exchanging words.

You hold out the basket, linen cloth folded neatly over the boules. Javier, eyeing you suspiciously, takes one cautious step toward you with his hands on his narrow hips, peering down at your offering. His eyes flicker beyond you to your house and though you don’t look back you’d bet the whole season’s harvest that your mother is standing on the porch, watching. Guaranteeing you hand off the gift as she’s asked, like you aren’t well past grown.

Amused, he hums low and quiet. “For me?” he muses, knowing the answer, and when you roll your eyes he only smirks. Pleased, maybe teasing you.

You squint at him—glistening, all sinew and bated breath. Your mother’s mind may be failing in that drawn out, terrible way—hearing fading, her logic a little swimmy—but standing this close to Javier you can’t blame the woman for mistaking him for a god.

“Just take it,” you say, betrayed by the curl of your lips. “She won’t let me back in the house ‘till you do.”

This time as he slips the gift from your hand to his, Javier sweeps his fingertips against your open palm, sending a sparkle of heat up the length of your arm. You watch him peel the frond of cloth back, unveiling the golden tithe as you drop your arm at your side. When he inhales slow and deep you can smell it too, that redolent unfurling of warmth. Hypnotic, despite its familiarity. Hypnotic, too, is the breadth of his chest as he takes that long, indulgent breath, thin fabric slick to his damp, lithe form.

“She really think I brought the rain?” he asks, frowning a little. Watching you like he knows you’re watching him. Each of you sizing the other up, scrambling to build opinions of someone who’s only ever been a figure across the lush trees and grass.

Did you once lose a kite to one of their oak trees? You think you might remember a young, rawboned Javier climbing a web of gnarled branches to fish it free, delivering it safely to where you waited on your side of the fence. Yes, you can see it now—that lazy, one-sided smile on his boyish face, the sun-bleached kite, and the relief of its homecoming to your trembling hand.

Three decades older he is no less honest in the way he awaits your reaction.

“Or she’s messing with me,” you admit. “I never know anymore.”

His scoff triggers yours—a brief, quiet chuckle in the remains of a salvaged summer. Javier shrugs and yes, you think he catches the way your eyes skirt briefly to his shoulders because his jaw ticks, cheeks hollowing as he sucks his tongue against his front teeth. He turns his head in the direction of their house, sees no sign of Chucho, same as you. A low hm sound rattles from his chest.

You’d swear the sun flares a little hotter when he returns his gaze to you.

“If it rains again,” Javier says, his voice swooping to a deeper shade. “What will you bring me?”

You cross your arms. “I think you can count on the bread indefinitely.”

“Don’t mean her—I mean you.”

Traitorous, your heart: how it speeds, skips a note or two in its once steady pattern. “I don’t think you brought the rain,” you tell him. “Just timing.”

When he narrows his eyes, his crow’s feet swallow them. Mustache quirking, pink tongue darting over his bottom lip. “Call it hypothetical,” he says, and you’re not sure if you were standing quite this close just a moment before, if one of you has moved and if so, which.

Hunger rarely devours you in any of its forms. A life spent in service of harvests leaves little excess to spend. Yet it stirs unmistakably, low and begging, at the sound of Javier’s gruff voice and the graceful way he pins your eyes to his mouth with every tiny movement of his lips. He doesn’t have to smile for you to feel him smirking—a fact alone that feels somehow mythic in its dominion, its quiet, unassuming power. All of him marble-sleek and solid, the image of virile beauty. It almost feels like a shame to think you’ve seldom stood this close before.

You jut your chin to the sky—that blue untouched by a single cloud—and shake your head. “It’s not going to rain,” you say, steadfast in your certainty. “Not anytime soon.”

“And if it does.” He doesn’t say it like a question—rather, an inevitability—which is to say you hear his real meaning: and when it does.

Head shaking, cheeks set aflame, you once more roll your eyes, this time turning back to return to your side of the fence. Over your shoulder you call out, “If it rains this week, I’ll bring whatever you like.”

For six days there’s nothing but sun. You watch the apples blush on their branches, those first pinkish stripes that promise a red and sugared fruit. Autumn will bring spices and cider, days and weeks and months of fermentation, of watching fruit turn liquid and then to gold. This stretch of summer is make or break for the harvest to come: the right weather now can mean perfection or a crying shame.

All week you watch Javier at such a distance he appears as only a tiny, charcoal figure roaming the fields, hauling lumber and picking up the far-off slack.

Yet often when you do, you think his head looks to be already angled in your direction. Impossible to know for sure in the blazing light and with so much land between you, but you’d take that bet. You’re pretty sure he’s watching you too.

You’re sure, also, that you’re right about the weather. At the dawn of the seventh day the skies look no less blemished than they have all week. Doesn’t look at all like it’s going to rain. To your surprise, you’re a little disappointed, but the feeling passes.

You push out into the orchards, tend to the lifelong task of keeping everything verdant and alive. Sweet is the air at this early, fragile hour in which the birds are just now waking, filling the world with their jubilee. Sky pink at the horizon, white overhead, you spend the morning gloating to no one but the trees—you were right, and Javier was wrong. But when midday breaks golden and ripe, he nonetheless appears in the tall grass, hand steadied on the neck of a tobiano as he and the creature walk between gated pastures, and his face turns in your direction, catches you drinking icy cider on the porch while you catch your breath between tasks.

This time when he catches your gaze, he lifts his free hand, forefinger spearing up at the sky. Too far to call out to each other, you have no way of asking what the gesture is for, so you step down from the croaking porch into the crabgrass and look up.

There hang, above you, newborn wisps. Clouds ashy at their bellies.

But clouds are just clouds. They aren’t rain.

The reckoning comes an hour later.

You dismiss the first, shy drop. A fluke, a fleeting blip of your imagination. Then the second: clear and wet on your forearm. Then a third. Soon it’s unavoidable—above you gray has gathered like dust bunnies beneath a couch, the bright summer shaded by the weather’s impossible will—and the rain that falls is not a patter, not a whisper, but a stony fist fight. The kind of rain that comes sweeping and determined, that has something to prove.

It’s like autumn has taken the stage two months too early. Childlike in its eagerness to command your attention—a downpour harsh and giving.

You emerge at the end of an arbored aisle to see Javier cut stoic against the shaded sky just shy of the boundary between your properties, chest wide and proud, just as drenched by the onslaught of rain but not fazed in the slightest. Too cavalier to smile but its essence hangs in the air between you, silver as any raindrop, unmistakable in meaning. He nods in the direction of a stable not far from the first shelter of elder oaks and without a word or invitation lopes off toward it, so fluid in his lazy strides, legs a little bowed and no small bit solid, hugged tight by denim that might as well be painted on.

You are following before your mind can think to.

You are hopping the fence.

You are dashing for the shadowed stable after him.

Breathless, hair kelped to your cheeks, clothes more water than textile, you cannot at first make out the stable’s interior, eyes not yet adjusted to the shift in light, ears booming with its cacophony. “Okay,” you say to the darkness in which Javier must be standing, blinking fast, wiping the rain from your eyes. “You got really fuckin’ lucky. What do you want?”

Embers warm in your chest—the first fronds of new wanting. You know what you hope he’ll say.

A flash of movement as your eyes adapt: Javier’s tanned arms reaching for you. His broad hands frame your face and you are not yet surefooted as he, swept up in his sudden, steady embrace. You hear yourself laugh over the barrage outside, silenced only by the blackness in his eyes—all that warmth and brown swallowed by his pupils. Your hands cuff his wrists, holding him to holding you without hesitation.

It should be awkward, this first real meeting of your bodies. How Javier steps up to press the length of his torso to yours, sly in the subtle turn of his lips as he breathes one quiet word: You. But it isn’t. He slots his lips to yours like kissing you is just another step in his languid stride, graceful and planned, his arms dragging you against his steady frame. The softness of his mouth a welcome surprise. Dizzy on the first swipe of his begging tongue, you’re entirely unaware of Javier walking you backward until your shoulder blades hit the stable wall.

What a gift it is to be kissed and kiss with one’s whole body. Javier licks hotly into your mouth, sucking sweetly on your tongue or bottom lip depending on his whim, hands holding you flush to the fire of him. When he moves to your jaw, the soft flesh of your ear, you are a candle never before lit, touched a thousand times wrongly and made finally right.

Javier mumbles something lost under the bellowing tempest. Every raindrop riots on the sheeted roof.

“What?” you pant, eyelids heavy with lust. Your shirt hangs open, as does his, both unbuttoned though you’d not noticed their undoing. Now visible in the gray light is the bronze of his freckled chest, the dark hair drawn from his navel to the waistband of his jeans.

You’d stare, but Javier then laps at the hollows of your neck, drinks rain from the dip in your collarbone, and you hum softly, entranced by his touch, eyes fluttering closed. He moves his lips closer to your ear. “Perfect,” he repeats, before his mouth is lost once more to the curve of your shoulder, the slope of your chest.

Meanwhile the path of your hands draws a symphony from him: low grunts and breathy huffs and, when your fingertips trace the hair on his stomach to graze his jeans, an earthy moan sweeter than any rainfall after any summer.

Javier cants his hips against yours like he’s making a promise.

How sublime, the wet ask of his tongue down your stomach as he falls to his knees.

Though he—after catching your eye, fingers frozen over the fly of your shorts until you nod—is the one to strip the layers from you first, you aren’t certain which of you is the one who’s praying, only that the reverence hangs heavy as a heatwave in the humid air.

Your head falls back against the stable wall. All but the roar of the storm is lost beyond your panting bodies as Javier kneels at the altar of you, shelves one of your legs on his shoulders, and laps hungrily from your aching heat. The pledge of his mouth sucks the air from you—your hands fly to the laurel of his hair, bathed locks slipping between your fingers as you clench and throb and tug, hardly conscious of the whimpers you let out in the wake of his tending.

Dutiful, he brings you gasping to the brink of some new chasm. Tongue expert in its tracing, circling, slipping, driving. Lifts his face to smirk just before you fall, dark stache glossy with your need and eyes blown black, and perhaps you’d be annoyed if Javier looked arrogant at all, but his confidence appears to you only assured. Resolute in his wanting. As if the world would have to come to a sudden, gasping end for his concentration to falter at all.

“Like that?” Javier asks, perhaps as winded as you. Genuine, you think, in his asking, though he must know.

You’re not sure if you remember how to nod or speak, but your hips buck on their own accord, desperate for him to see this through.

“Yeah,” he rasps, his thick fingers squeezing your hips. “Think you do.”

Then his grin vanishes as he resumes and all at once you are tumbling, swept away in a landslide and earthquake at the same time as he slips two fingers into you, coaxing a rush of pleasure into his mouth. You might cry out his name, but the sound is lost to the din of the deluge.

When next you catch your breath, Javier is standing, denim wet and straining against the swell of his length. Hesitation is no longer a word you know or hold, already greedy for his taste, so you urge your mouth to his and lap the taste of yourself from his tongue, fingers busy with freeing him, the slick peeling of his jeans. You fall without realizing you’re falling, sunken to the ground with Javier’s cock heavy and throbbing in your hand.

He might whine when your tongue flickers sweetly against his weeping head—but there’s no mistaking the desperate groan dug loose from the earth of Javier’s chest as you bring the whole of him into the furnace of your mouth, wet and tight and willing. Your moan sends a shiver through his body, then Javier’s hand shoots out fast as a gunshot, palm slamming into the wall to keep himself from toppling.

“Shit—” he gasps, and you look up at him through dewy lashes to find his eyes have closed, lips swollen and jaw hanging open.

Again, you hum. Make a game of the stroke and slide and swallowing that makes him quiver until it’s too good, too good, too close baby and he pulls you off him, drool slugging down your chin. His cock aching, surely, when you nuzzle your cheek against it, tempted to take it in your throat again. But you smile as he plummets to meet you on the ground, then swoon when he lays you out on the topsoil not yet drenched by the rain.

“Wanna feel you first,” Javier murmurs, petting the hair back from your face, lapping the spit from your chin with his tongue before he unites it with yours. Lips plush, more tender than you expect amidst his fervor, the kind of kissing you can’t help but lose yourself to. You think you’d kiss him the rest of the day, through any night. Brows pinching when he pulls away, cupping the blaze of your burning cheeks with the palm of his hand, thumb swept across your upper lip as he gazes down at you with adoration.

“Need to fill you,” he groans. “Don’t I, hm? Dime, baby.”

Thighs spread to make room for him in the bowl of your hips, you pull him over you by the shoulders until he blankets you, covering all but a sliver of the rain-rich sky visible through the stable’s entrance, and the oak tree’s canopy lashing in the fevered gale.

Is his shirt below you now, somehow? You think it must be—spread carefully to protect your needy flesh.

“Yes,” you breathe, as Javier kneels between your legs, fisting the base of his cock. “Yes, yes.”

A grin, but not of ego—he is only pleased. Pious in his watching the way breath shudders in your chest. Javier nods, brow dented low and serious, curls black with water and plastered to his face, and pumps himself once, then takes your ankles in his hands. Sets them flat on the ground, bending both your knees to frame him. Hands butterflied and wide, tracing the slant of your thighs to the bend of your hips like all of a sudden he has all the time in the world.

Maybe you do. It almost feels like you do.

Like this might not be a spell that breaks with the end of the rain.

“I’ve got you,” he says.

“I know,” you breathe.

With both hands Javier lifts your hips from the ground and pulls you toward him until your core presses against the underside of his cock. He hmphs, transfixed by this silken meeting, and thrusts his hips once, gently, rubbing himself between your folds. You whimper at the friction, cunt fluttering, begging.

Javier clicks his tongue as you claw at his forearms, hips pitching in his hold to ask for more, and this time there is perhaps a drop of pride in his cunning gaze. Glad to be the one you stir for, the one you choose.

“Needs me, hm?” he coos.

You paint the air between you with his name.

“I know,” he murmurs, guiding himself to you now, nudging his tip against your clit once, twice, then notching.

Then rhapsody. The urging in and dragging out, the sweet perfection of Javier inside you, taking space that now seems like it was made for him from the start. “Fuck,” you hear yourself say, more breath than voice, and Javier grits his teeth as he feeds his cock to you slowly, throbbing and whole.

“So soft,” he grunts, resolve slipping—his hips snap against yours on the next thrust and you yelp from the bliss of it. Teeth bared above you, Javier yanks you flush against his slender hips, buried to the hilt as he tries to catch his breath. “Shit, baby.”

Thighs clamping around his waist, you writhe, plant your palms on his sternum, desperate for more.

“Javi,” you plea, and in a flash Javier spreads his hands over your hamstrings, pins your thighs to your stomach, and bends over you, fucking you into the ground.

Your teeth bump when he moves to kiss you, then he tilts his head and it’s all saccharine again: his tongue lapping sweetly into your mouth, mustache scraping against your cupid’s bow. Like this, the angle is exquisite. So deep it’s like he’s everywhere, stretching you out and stringing you taut and Javier must feel it too because he starts to grind, the thatch of dark hair at the base of his stomach rubbing against your clit as he grazes his teeth along the underside of your jaw.

“That’s it,” he mumbles. “Damelo, baby, quiero sentirte.”

You shatter, or bloom, you can’t totally decide. Exaltation in a single moment, your whole body electric in its trembling, clenching, gasping. Javier falters only when your body comes down from its high, emboldened to move again. Folded as you are, you can only whine and moan and sparkle as he once more takes up a rhythm. Smooth and hot as cider on a cold night, his cock glistening with your need as he pulls out and presses in, patient again.

“Perfect,” he prays.

It’s possible that this is heaven.

You don’t know when it stopped, but the skies have quieted. A lick of sunlight casts into the stables and falls over the expanse of Javier’s back and shoulders as he rocks into you again and again and again. Hand weaving into the curls at the nape of his neck, you hold him to you as his pace begins to stutter.

Javier licks the column of your throat, purring against your neck, “Lo quieres, baby? Hm?”

“Yes,” you tell him, one arm winding around his shoulders. “Deep.”

He kisses you once, then pulls back just enough to watch your face, his own lust-tense and sneering as his high builds and climbs. You swipe your thumb across his bottom lip, tell him to let go, and he is beautiful—lit copper and gold by summer’s warmth as he drops his forehead to yours.

Perfect in his promise, Javier offers all to you, fills you wholly, his body tense and then unraveling. His weight drops onto you properly as he paints your cunt with his seed. When you grunt he lifts just enough to free your legs without leaving your heat, and you lock your ankles over the small of his back.

Javier nuzzles his nose to yours.

You aren’t sure how long you stay like that, but when you’re standing again, his hands guides your weakened legs back into your shorts. You button each other’s shirts instead of your own.

Outside the stables, the earth sings petrichor, grateful for the fleeting flood. Across the fence beyond the tall grass your orchard sparkles, glittered with rain as you stand beneath the oak tree gazing out in gratitude. Javier’s hand ghosts over your spine and you feel a rash of goosebumps break out as if he’s once more touched your skin.

His breath is warm against your hair, the apple of your cheek. “Don’t wait for rain next time,” he whispers, then slinks off regal and graceful as a wildcat, clicking his tongue to call out the horses to the pastures now marbled with loam.

It doesn’t rain again for weeks, but you go to him anyway, hopping the fence that cradles your homes to seek his arms.

moodboard by @perotovar & dividers by @saradika-graphics

tag list & some mutuals:

@thethirstwivesclub @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @hediondoamor-blog @tuquoquebrute @thundermartini

@littlemisspascal @luxurychristmaspudding @tonysopranosrobe @evolnoomym @jessthebaker

@burntheedges @studioghibelli @la-eterna-enamorada29 @goodgirlwannabe @guiltyasdave

@spacelatinos4life @sweetpascal @biggetywitch @wannab-urs @pedgito

@jolapeno @pastelpinkflowerlife @ak-vintage @rav3n-pascal22 @sixhours

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innerfare · 2 months ago

Text

Smutty Ace Headcanons

Summary: a collection of NSFW Ace headcanons

Genre: pure smut (afab!reader)

CW: easygoing dom Ace, low-key cum play, oral sex, untapped breeding kink Ace

———

Accidentally burned a girl with his cum after he ate his devil fruit because he forgot so quickly that other people aren’t immune to heat the way he is. Had to work super hard to learn how to control his body temperature after that. Was too scared to fool around with anyone for a year. The crew quickly found out about the incident and started calling him Fire Balls Ace.

Didn’t get super into it the way some pirates do, but he did seduce a few marines when he was a rookie. His dirty secret, though, is that he wasn’t domming them. In fact, he was doing what they told him. Had never subbed before and never subbed after, but he enjoyed it at the time. Marco is suspicious because Ace blushes furiously when the crew is discussing a famously beautiful Rear Admiral whom Marco happens to know enjoys whipping young male pirates, but Marco ultimately decides it must have been something else that made Ace’s cheeks red that evening because everyone Ace has slept with since joining the Whitebeard Pirates has said he was pretty dominant, not the type to submit.

Also hasn’t seduced many pirates. Has seduced countless civilians, though; sweet and innocent is his usual type. He’d risk it all to bed a pretty barmaid, particularly the type to smile up at him and let him cum on her face. He knows it can be considered disrespectful but he doesn’t mean it that way at all, he just thinks they look so pretty with his cum on their face.

He's a sweet talker. That's how he gets people into bed. And it continues after he gets them into bed, too.

Is a pretty easygoing dom, but a dom nonetheless (though he doesn’t really know what dom means, sweet boy; he just knows that he likes smacking your ass when he throws you over his shoulder and takes pride in you squealing his name). Is also a service dom. Really doesn’t like it when you get yourself off. If he finds out you did, he’ll immediately shove his hands in your panties and get you off himself to prove he’s so much better at it than you are.

Super eager to please you and sometimes over does it because he doesn’t realize most people don’t have sex drives as high as his and is worried if he doesn’t fuck you three times a day you’ll get it somewhere else. Buys you a discreet vibrator necklace so you can get yourself off to the thought of him when he’s not there. Expects you to tell him all about it when he gets back. However many times you used it on yourself is how many times he’s going to use it on you, and with no breaks in between, so you’d better be careful.

Puts his hat on you as a way of signaling that he wants to fuck. Whether you’re in a crowded bar drinking with the guys or hanging out on the deck of the Moby Dick, if that orange cowboy hat drops like a sexy gavel on your head, you follow him back to his cabin, no questions asked. Happens so often the other Whitebeard Pirates know what it means.

Manners matter to this man. If you don’t already, he’ll train you to say please and thank you when he makes you cum. If you say, “I’m gonna cum,” instead of asking for permission, he’ll immediately stop what he’s doing until you apologize for your mistake. Often times does the same himself, thanking you and placing a kiss on your cheek after sex.

His favorite things to be called during sex? Ace and tiger. Will accept daddy, but it’s not really his thing, doesn’t understand why that would be sexy. Tiger, though… the nickname makes him feel big and strong, like he’s king of the jungle. If you say, “easy, tiger,” he most definitely will not be taking it easy. Goes absolutely feral if you call him cute or adorable because he feels he needs to prove himself as a man. Ends up just proving that he’s such a good boy.

Makes you sweat so much. Like a disgusting amount. Luckily, he doesn’t mind it (he really likes it, actually, how gross and slippery the two of you are; it makes him feel wild and free). Hopefully, you don’t mind it either, because there’s no stopping it.

Has definitely taken his necklace off and run the beads through your folds before; definitely does not clean them before putting them back around his neck.

Likes to hide his face in the pillow or the crook of your neck or fuck you from behind because he blushes so much and doesn’t want you to see (he has a reputation to maintain).

Is obsessive about birth control. Lives in constant fear of getting you pregnant, even if he’s secretly turned on by the thought. On the rare occasions he fucks you without a condom, there are few, if any, words exchanged, just a series of animalistic grunts and pants that tell you all you need to know; cums in half the time if he fucks you without a condom.

Literally lives for outdoor sex. It makes him feel wild and free. His perfect day is the two of you chasing each other around the woods, climbing trees together and swinging from the branches, and fucking like wild animals. Against a tree, on a beach, in a flower field- anywhere he can get you naked under the sun or moon, he’ll try.

Has an insatiable, voracious appetite. He loves putting you on your back, pushing your bottom half up so your bare cunt is high in the air and placing his big hands behind your knees to hold your legs in an impossible position while he buries his face in your wet folds. Pauses to talk about how good you smell and especially to remind you that he's the only one who gets to taste you.

Is obsessed with the smell of you. It’s his favorite part about going down on you. Often steals your panties when he gets them off you. Will hold them to his face while he fucks you. Always has a pair or two in his backpack, usually another pair in his pocket. Has accidentally pulled a pair of your panties out when a member of the crew spilled something because he thought your panties were a napkin; had to threaten his crew mates within an inch of their lives to keep them from telling you.

Not into sharing. You’re his and his alone. That being said, he has a slight exhibitionism kink in that he likes others to know how good he fucks you. If your moans are echoing through the ship… well, he won’t complain, that’s for sure.

Falls asleep as soon as he cums, doesn’t understand why you don’t. And when he falls asleep, it’s with you in his arms. Has a death grip on you. Don’t be expecting to get up and go to the bathroom or get food after sex. If you do manage to pry him off you, he’ll wake up and follow you wherever you go, whining until you come back to bed with him.

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

#one piece #one piece headcanons #one piece smut #ace #fire fist ace #portgas d ace #ace x reader #portgas ace x reader #ace smut #portgas d ace smut #fire fist ace smut #whitebeard pirates #spade pirates #marco the phoenix

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yeostinys · 2 months ago

Text

Spectacles.

Pairing: Softdom Idol!Yeosang x Clumsy Sub!Reader

Genre: Smut 18+, Fluff

Word Count: 3.4k

Notes: Established Relationship. Oral sex (m & f receiving). Unprotected sex (wrap it up yall). Creampie. Glasses fixation 😮‍💨. Nicknames (baby, pretty, yeo & sangie)

authors note: this is my first writing ever! pure horny thoughts. this is pure imagination and in no way depicts any characters in real life. please support and enjoy~

The evening sunset glared through your studio apartment as you sat by the window side bistro table. With a novel in one hand and a fork in the other, you are munching on a bowl of mixed fruits. The coziness of the chair allows you to prop up your legs to snuggle into yourself more as you grab a piece of watermelon and shove it into your mouth.

You have been craving for this day off after a long busy week of work. So you are sporting a comfy tee from your boyfriend’s closet and a pair of lounging shorts. Your soft hair hangs freely as you flip each page and soak in the peaceful atmosphere around you.

“I’m home~” Your lover called out as he shuts the door behind him.

“Hi Yeo!” you greeted him with your eyes still glued to your book, too invested to properly look at him.

“You’re still reading that? You have been in that position since I left home” Yeosang chuckles at your current state.

“Yeah yeah. I prepared a bowl of fruits for you. It’s in the fridge!” brushing him off, You mentally note to yourself that you will put this book away once you finish this chapter.

Yeosang softly smiles at you admiring how focused you are on your novel and walks to the fridge to take out the bowl of fruit. You both eat in a comforting silence. You can hear the low volume on his phone as he scrolls through different apps and the sounds of your pages turning. Not wanting to make your boyfriend feel abandoned you begin to make small talk,

“How was today’s fan signing event?” you ask still not removing your gaze away from your novel.

“It was good! It went by quicker than usual.”Yeosang replied and you hummed in response.

“That’s great Yeo! I promise when i’m done with this chapter i’ll ask more details!” You say cheerfully. Yeosang laughs at your response and returns his attention back onto his phone and bowl of fruit.

Finally reading the last sentence of the chapter you shut your book and sigh in satisfaction.

“What a good chapter to end on today!” You stretched your arms as you turned to look at your boyfriend and your eyes widen at the sight of him.

Yeosang is leaning against the kitchen island with his elbows propped up on the counter scrolling through his phone. You mentally thank whoever was in charge of styling him in black jeans and a fitted black turtle neck that hugged all the right areas of his toned body. But what really sent you over the edge was a pair of black rectangular glasses that sat on top of his perfect nose. You can’t take your eyes off of him. How can someone this beautiful belong to you? Your mind quickly began to flood with dirty thoughts of Yeosang ruining you in bed while he keeping those sexy specs on his face.

“You okay baby?” Yeosang snaps you back to reality. His gaze remains on you with concern.

“Huh?” you responded as you shake your head. “What? yeah i’m okay!”.

Yeosang smirks and acts clueless as he takes another bite of a fruit and adverts his gaze back towards his phone.

Unconsciously, you get up from your chair and make your way towards him. You slip between the counter and his body as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Hi baby”

Yeosang smiles as he puts his phone down “Hi pretty” He brushes a hair strand away from your face.

Gosh his deep honey voice sends butterflies to your stomach. However you try to keep your composure.

“I like your outfit today. You look very handsome” you compliment.

“oh really?” Yeosang teased. You nodded and hummed in response.

“The stylist set out some clothes for us to wear and take home today. So I guess I did a good job at picking out what my baby likes.” he says casually as his hands moved from the counter, towards your waist and rested underneath your shirt.

“Those… your….” you began to stumble over your words, looking down at your feet becoming slightly distracted by his warm touch.

“my what?” Yeosang rubbed his thumbs against your bare skin.

“Your glasses… I like them” you say fidgeting with the fabric of his turtle neck, still not making eye contact.

“Do you?” he’s teasing you on purpose. He knows you get flustered easily and oh does he love it when you get worked up.

Yeosang’s finger gently lifts your chin to look into your beautiful doe eyes, you nod cutely while remaining eye contact.

Yeosang bites his lip trying not to lose control too quickly. He effortlessly lifts your body to sit on top of the counter. The cold touch of the marble sends shivers through your body. Yeosang’s big hands rub your exposed thighs to keep them warm and you try not to squirm under his touch. His hands make their way back to your waist and he unexpectedly snuggles his face into your neck.

“I missed you.” he sighed.

Your heart swelled at his soft voice. Your hand fondled with his silky hair.

“I missed you too Yeo” you whispered.

“You smell so good. I missed this scent too” he mumbles into your neck.

You giggle at the ticklish feeling,

“you say that as if you weren’t here just this morning or the night before”

“so? even just a few hours without you i miss everything about you soooo much” he says leaving playful pecks on your neck.

You laugh as you push him away. Having a perfect look at his face once again you feel yourself getting wet.

Those damn glasses.

You pull Yeosang towards you and your lips land in sync to a soft yet passionate kiss.

“You like the glasses that much baby?” Yeosang teased between breaths.

“shut up” you mumbled against his lips.

Yeosang pulls away from your lips and smiles at you.

“Why are you smiling?” You ask trying to not to smile back at him.

“You’re just so cute when you’re flustered” He chuckles. His hands are leaned back onto the marble counter as he admires the details on your face.

“So…. you wore those glasses today at the fan sign?” you asked touching the frames gently.

“Yes I did. The fans enjoyed it a lot.”

You want to wipe that smug look off his face so much. You know he’s enjoying this teasing a bit too much.

“How lucky they got to see you in these glasses before I did” you fake a pout before crossing your arms.

Yeosang rolls his eyes before kissing your lips once again.

“stop being so cute” he mumbles against you. You’re both a giggling mess as he continues to kiss your lips, face and neck.

Hours go by with a shared dinner and a quick run down conversation about what’s currently happening in the book you’re reading. You’ve both moved to the couch, with you comfortably sitting on his lap playing with his hair. Yeosang could honestly listen to you talk for hours. He never breaks eye contact with you as you speak so passionately about your interest. You gaze up to look at your boyfriend and you stumble over your words… again.

“What?” Yeosang asks and laughs.

“Why do you keep looking at me like that” you cover your face with your palms.

“What do you mean baby? You’re speaking so therefore I’m remaining eye contact with you! A decent human thing to do!” he laughs more as he tries to move your hands away from your face to see your blushed cheeks.

It’s the damn glasses you say to yourself. How does he look so sexy in a pair of glasses? It’s driving you crazy. You shift on his lap to make the uncomfortable wetness between your thighs less noticeable.

“Y/n, look at me” Yeosang demands in soft tone. You move your eyes to meet his. It’s filled with lust and love. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss you feverishly. You moan in response and he smirks between the kiss before lifting you swiftly and walking towards your bed.

The night sky has already flooded the studio apartment leaving the only light source the dim lamps set across the room. The only sounds heard were gasps of air and wet kisses shared between you and Yeosang. Yeosang gently throws you on the bed. Your legs instinctively fold with your knees bent and feet flat on the mattress. Your elbows are used to prop yourself up as you look at your lover take off his turtle neck shirt. Shit, you curse to yourself. As much as he looked so sexy in that turtle neck, his toned abs made you drool. His glasses remained on his face as he began to kneel down. Yeosang hooked his arms under your thighs and pulled you closer to his face. His hands moved to the hem of your shorts and pulled them off smoothly. He kissed your soft knee as his hands traveled up your thighs.

“Fuck” he sighed.

“You drive me insane Y/n”. The way your name rolls off his tongue sent shivers down your spine.

“Yeo… please” you say quietly

“Please what baby?” He leaves a trail of kisses on your inner thighs. You whine in response.

“Use your words baby.”

“Please touch me…” you managed to squeal out.

“I am touching you Y/n” he smirks against your clothed pussy.

You looked down at your lover and felt yourself get wetter by the seconds. His slightly blushed face with hazy eyes looking up at you through those damn pair of glasses.

“Yeo… please eat me out?” you whine once again. Moving one of your hands towards his hair to bring him closer to your pussy. He groans in response.

“so needy” he licks your slit that’s still covered by the soft cotton of your panties. Yeosang leaves a few more wet kisses before hooking his pointer finger under your panties and moving them to the side.

“so wet baby”. Yeosang softly sucks on your clit and slowly licks his tongue at your entrance before pulling away. You whine at the loss of physical touch.

“Shh baby. be patient for me. yeah?” Yeosang coos as he pulls down your panties and tosses them across the room. He calmly comes back down to your entrance and begins to lazily lick down your inner thighs to your cunt. He’s moving so slowly but so skillfully. He twists his tongue insides your pussy and that makes your legs jolt shut. Yeosang uses his strong arms to hold your legs open as he continues his work.

“ohh f ffuck” you moan softly. He hums against your pussy in response, sending another wave of ecstasy through your body.

“Y Yeo…” you shudder as you tug his hair to stay in one position. Yeosang grunts, his hard on slightly gets more painful as you begin to move against his mouth. You tilt your head down to look at him and you loudly moan. His glasses began to fog as he continued eating your hot wet pussy more and more. Yeosang knew you were close, but he didn’t want things to end for you just yet. He forcefully pulls away from your cunt and stands on his two feet.

You groan “Why did you stop~” you pout in pure frustration kicking one of your legs up and back down . Yeosang chuckles at your small tantrum. He pushes his glasses back up securely on his face as the fog fades away from the lenses. His tongue slips out to taste your juices over his lips and begins to undo his belt and buttons on his jeans.

“Be a good girl and take off your shirt” Yeosang says gently as he begins to take off his pants. You scramble to take your shirt off and for some reason the tight fabric gets stuck as you try to pull it over your head. You feel Yeosang’s strong hands brush your torso before helping you out of your shirt. He smirks at your clumsiness and kisses your forehead. You are now completely naked in front of him. He’s still in his boxer briefs but the mound of his hard cock is very prominent. You gulp at the sight of your boyfriend once again. His toned abs are now glistening with sweat, his fluffy brown hair is slightly messy from your tugging, and those pair of black rimmed spectacles sitting nicely on his face.

“Tell me what you want baby” Yeosang says. One thing you love about Yeosang is how attentive he is in bed and outside of bed. He’s always making sure you’re comfortable and enjoying everything as well.

“I… I want you in my mouth too… please?” You say.

“Fuck- on your knees then, pretty” Yeosang groans and moves aside to give you room drop to your knees on the floor.

Yeosang doesn’t sit on the bed. Instead he remains standing since his cock is at the perfect height to your mouth when you’re bent on your knees. His right hand goes behind your head and guides you to his dick. You instinctively open your mouth and suck on his cock through the fabric of his boxers. Mirroring what he did to you at the beginning of this session.

Yeosang hisses at the sensation. “Fuck baby. don’t tease”

You moan and pull down his briefs. His dick springs out and brushes against your face. Yeosang chuckles at the sight and uses his left hand to hold the base of his cock to tap his tip on your tongue a few times before slowly shoving it into your mouth. He releases a deep moan as you take all of him in. Your warm tongue gives a few swirls before you bob your head up and down. His hand strokes your hair in a comforting way that makes your pussy throb over and over. Your left hand holds his waist as you use your other hand to rub circles on your clit. You moan at your lewd actions sending Yeosang to shove your head deeper onto his cock.

“oh baby you’re taking me so well” he praises as he throws his head back in pleasure. You look up towards him and the euphoric expression he makes on his face with the rectangular frames sitting on his nose makes you moan. A sudden ego boost fills you as you began to move faster and deeper on his cock.

“ffuck- baby slow down” Yeosang moans but you don’t listen, pushing yourself to go faster, causing him to groan in annoyance. He tugs your hair back off of him. Your mouth makes a pop noise as you pant catching your breath. Yeosang bends down and leans near your ear,

“don’t be a fucken brat now baby.” He groans and lifts you up.

You’re thrown on top of the mattress, your head hitting the soft pillows. He moves his legs between yours. His mouth latches onto your breasts lapping his tongue over your erected nipples. He cups your other boob and gropes it continuously. You’re a moaning mess under his touch wanting to feel more. Your hands find their way to his abs running down towards his V line. Yeosang grabs your wrists and holds them above your head as he continues to leave marks on your breasts.

“Sangie please let me touch you” you whined. Yeosang groaned at the nickname. You only use that name when you’re so fucken needy. He pulls away from your boob and sits up on his knees.

“Show me what you want then baby.”

You prop yourself up with your elbows and reach towards his glasses, you pull them slightly off so they rest on the tip of his nose. You then attach your lips to his. Your tongues are fighting for dominance. He moves his glasses higher to avoid it poking your face. His hand cup your cheek while the other guides his cock towards your entrance.

Yeosang Pulls away from your lips and pants, “You ready baby?”

“Yes Sangie, please put it in” you moan.

He slides his length inside you and you both release a satisfying moan. His rhythm is slow and deep. Just the way you like it. He hits your g-spot with ease causing you to throw your head back.

“feel good baby?” Yeosang whispers in your ear before leaving a kiss.

“y y yes. s so good sangie” you whimper. “you make me feel good too baby… fuck… s so good” he moans in your ear so erotically, you felt your orgasm coming already. Yeosang feels your cunt tighten so he pulls out.

You cry out in frustration “N n no please i was so close Sangie why did you stop”. Tears began to swell up in your eyes.

Yeosang moans at your fucked out expression.

“it’s okay baby you’ll cum soon. let sangie do something real quick first okay?” he says gently before kissing your lips.

Yeosang rests on his knees and caresses your waist. His hands move towards his face and takes off his glasses. You pout, at the sudden action, does he not want to wear the glasses anymore? Suddenly, Yeosang moves the specs towards your face and places them ontop on your nose.

He smirks “fuck now i know why you love these glasses so much”

Your doe eyes look up at him in cluelessness through the glasses lens that are now on your face.

“You’re so fucken sexy baby” He cups your face and kiss you softly. “Ride me” he says against your lips.

You straddle Yeosang’s hips and place your hands on his chest. He grabs your waist and moves your soft, wet cunt against the shaft of his cock.

“Put it inside of you baby” he says. You grab his throbbing cock and guide it towards your entrance. You slowly put all your weight on him and moan in pleasure. You close your eyes trying to adjust to his length at this different position. Yeosang taps your hips to grab your attention,

“Eyes on me pretty.” he groans “don’t look away.”

He guides your hips to move ontop of him. Your fucked out face arouses him so much. He begins to thrust his hips up towards you to move at a faster pace. Your eyes never leave his. With every thrust he takes the frames on your face slowly start to fall down your nose. Your hands that were once on his chest move up to push the glasses back up and the small gesture makes Yeosang feral. His pace gets faster and rougher. You fall towards his chest, face buried in his neck. His hand caresses your head as his other hand wraps your waist as he continues to thrust in you.

“S sangie.. gonna c cum” you whimper

“fuck me too baby. hold on” Yeosang says as he flips you over so you’re laying on your back once again.

The glasses frames are slightly crooked on your face as he rams his cock into you again at a needy fast pace. You wrap your arms and legs over Yeosang’s body as he holds onto you. His thrust begins to become sloppy as you both chase your high. Your core tightens as he hits your g-spot at a deep pace. You scream out his name in ecstasy as you release your orgasm. Yeosang quickly captures your lips onto his.

“Fuck Y/n” he cursed as his hot load releases inside you. He continues to pump the rest of his high out until you are both a panting mess.

After what felt like an eternity. Yeosang pulls out of you. You whimper at the empty feeling. “Let me clean you up baby.” He whispers and kisses your forehead. Yeosang walks towards the bathroom and returns with a warm damp towel. He moves towards the bottom of your body and spreads your legs open

“Fuck baby. such a pretty cunt” he chuckles. He takes his pointer and middle finger and gathers the spilled cum from your pussy and shoves it back into your cunt gently. You moan at the sudden action

“Y Yeo!”

“Hehe sorry baby. i’ll clean you up now”. He giggles and begins to wipe you clean.

After cleaning himself, you’re already fast asleep. Yeosang carefully shifts your body towards him and in muscle memory you snuggle yourself deeper into his chest. He feels what is like plastic poke at his left peck and he realizes you still have his glasses on. He smirks and chuckles to himself. He carefully takes off the pair of specs from your gentle face and places it on the nightstand.

“Goodnight my pretty” Yeosang whispers into your ear before kissing your forehead and falling into a deep slumber with you.

#yeosang smut #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #yeosang #yeosang x reader #yeosang hard hours #yeosang hard thoughts #ateez imagines #ateez fanfiction #ateez writing #yeosang fanfic #yeosang imagines #yeostinywrites

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asahicore · 2 years ago

Text

cherry pits - psh (m)

this work contains smut - minors please do not interact

pairing. dad!sunghoon x fem!reader

synopsis. Your alarmingly empty bank account forces you to find a last-minute summer job so that you can afford a trip with your friends. The extremely handsome customer that comes into the store just happens to be a young single dad who's renovating the old house next to yours. The tension that settles between the two of you as you start helping him fix up his house soon becomes unbearable, but it's all one-sided anyway, right?

(Spoiler: wrong.)

genre. DILF AUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!, neighbors au, s2l, summer au, slight age gap (reader is 21 and hoon 26), reader is so down bad over sunghoon its actually crazy but also extremely relatable cause this is sunghoon we're talking about, fluff and smut, sex gets freakyyy ngl

word count. 12.9k

a/n. hey sisters had no time to write anything this week so i am coming back (everybody boos) with a repost yayyy!!! i actually love this story idkw i just find it fun so i hope you guys will enjoy rereading / reading it !!!! as always let me know ur thoughts.. even if they're just incomprehensible screaming (bad or good).. im happy w anything ok bye!!!

You’ve always wondered about the ratio of cherry to pit. Such a big pit for so little flesh, isn’t it? Yet that’s never stopped you from biting into the small fruit, eating what you could and spitting out the unwanted part. You actually rather enjoy this whole process. Bite, eat, spit. You could repeat this with huge bowls of cherries at a time until they upset your stomach and you had to stop for your own good.

Bite, eat, spit is exactly what you’re doing when, with a trembling finger, you finally brave to open your banking app and check your balance. It’s the beginning of summer, and after two semesters of intense studying and too-much-coffee drinking, you think you deserve three long months of doing nothing but hanging out in your childhood bedroom and eating the food your parents buy and make. You’re especially looking forward to the vacation in Mexico you have planned with your friends at the end of August.

One look at your bank account and your dreams of white beaches and seas so blue you couldn’t tell them apart from the sky shatter around you, the sad, low numbers on the screen sneering at you mockingly. You were sure you had saved enough money from part-time jobs and generous relatives, but now you regret all of those night-outs and lazy takeaways. If you had cut down on those, maybe you wouldn’t have to go through the hassle of finding a summer job at the last minute, which you would definitely have to do if you wanted to eat something on that dear beach of yours and not just starve to death under the glaring sun.

That was it - tomorrow, you’d go and get a job. Today, however, you’d enjoy your last day of respite and eat some more cherries, or maybe make some jam and a pie so your parents wouldn’t chide you for eating them all, and then go pick some more from the three trees in your backyard. You’d sit outside, enjoying the warmth of the sun while you read or, if you couldn’t be asked, while you listened to the bustle of the old and worn-down house next door being renovated. You’re surprised someone had the courage to buy it and give it a new life, but you assume that’s the kind of courage that comes with having time and money.

Yesterday night, you’d heard a little girl playing outside until her mom called her in saying it was time to go, so you made up a story of your neighbors being newlyweds that had decided they’d had enough of the city and wanted to raise their daughter in a calmer town far from busy streets and loud honks. You could bring them some cherries, maybe in jam or pie form, as a housewarming gift.

Unfortunately, the day passed and you were too busy doing nothing to actually get around to baking, so you decided to do nothing some more and then go to bed, needing rest before your big job hunt.

You’d gravely overestimated the amount of job opportunities in your small hometown, only receiving apologetic looks from the store owners as they tell you they don’t need any help, or worse, already have someone. Damn those 16-year-olds who only get summer jobs so they can blow their whole pay in a couple weeks before school starts again. You, on the other hand, need that money for important things, like sipping on a cocktail at a bar with a seaview.

The local hardware store next to the train station is your saving grace. It looks quite small from the outside, but once you step inside, rows of lamps and mirrors in all shapes and sizes along with all kinds of household needs welcome you, followed by a section for gardening and pet caretaking. The basement is where all the paints and brushes were, as well as the more technical (technical to you, at least) products, like bolts and tools or kitchen and bathroom appliances.

A lot of people undertake renovations in their homes during their free time in the summer, so it’s important for the store to have their experts helping out customers in their dedicated aisles rather than working behind the till and restocking the shelves, which is what you will be doing for the next two months. The pay is slightly above minimum wage and with twenty-one hours of work a week, you’ll earn more than enough to enjoy your vacation. You start tomorrow.

Your co-workers are happy to welcome a new face into their team. They’re nice even if they have the tendency to drone on about different types of tools and the importance of choosing the right brush for the surface you’re painting, which you don’t particularly care about, but you think you might as well learn as much as you can during your time here; it might always come in handy later.

As you expected, it isn’t the most stimulating job ever, but you aren’t bored out of your mind either. You make small talk with customers as they explain their purchases, some more defensively than others, even if you didn’t ask. You make sure to restock the shelves correctly and sometimes ask for help when you feel your arms giving out after hours of carrying heavy stuff. When no one’s in, you like to rearrange the cute bathroom decorations so that they make a little rainbow of toothbrush and soap holders.

You were daydreaming about what you would do with your friends in Mexico and all the cherries you could eat there when a man so handsome you thought he was a part of your dream walks in. He doesn’t notice (or maybe he just ignores it, you’re not sure) your gawking and smiles at you, saying “hello” before turning his attention to the map which details where everything is stored at the entrance of the shop. You manage a small “h-hello” back that probably doesn’t even reach his ears, and you curse yourself for doing a poor job of greeting a customer just because said customer looks like he’s been pushed from the heavens above onto this unworthy earth by the other angels who were jealous of his beauty.

You stay put behind the counter the whole time he’s there to avoid the potential embarrassment of running into him in a random aisle and making a fool of yourself. There isn’t much to do anyway, so you rearrange the organic protein bars and chewing-gum at the counter and count all the money in the cash register to distract yourself. He doesn’t spend a very long time browsing and after twenty minutes, you see him approach with a cart full of the biggest cans of paint the store offers. It’s mostly white paint, but there are some browns and grays, and one of pink as well.

You thank God for those twenty minutes because they allowed you to get a hold of yourself so that you didn’t gape at him like a dead fish instead of scanning his articles, which is what you are very professionally and expertly doing. “That’s a lot of paint,” you comment lightheartedly, partly just to prove to yourself that you can also speak in front of this man.

“I know,” he chuckles, and it seems unfair that his voice should be just as attractive as his face. “The previous owners of the house I just bought had terrible taste in wallpaper and wall colors, so I have to repaint basically the whole house. Everything has to go, really. The floors, the furniture, the lights.”

“Sounds like you’re going to have a busy summer. That’ll be $132.76, please.”

“I’ll pay by card,” he says as he brings his wallet out from his back pocket and inserts his card into the reader, which allows you to look freely at his tanned arms and the veins that protrude here and there. He can’t be older than thirty, so there’s probably not that much of an age difference between the two of you, but damn does he look more mature in the sexiest way possible than all of the male college students you’re used to seeing on a daily basis. If anything, he reminds you of the hot young Linguistics professor your whole department likes to drool over.

The beep of the payment being accepted snaps you out of your daze. “And yeah, it’ll sure be a busy summer. I’ll need a lot of stuff from here, so you might have to get used to seeing me around,” he says with a smile that makes your heart skip a beat. There’s no way this walking Greek god of a man is actually flirting with you, but the glint in his eyes tells you it wasn’t just an off-hand comment.

“I could get used to that,” you surprise yourself by replying confidently, your smile mirroring his as pretty dimples appear on each side of his face.

You hand him the receipt and notice his eyes flickering down to your name tag before trapping yours in his gaze once again. You don’t think you ever want to look away. “I’ll see you around, Y/N,” he says and walks out with his cart and his tons of paint before you can say anything, lest ask his name, except for “see you.”

You take a deep breath in and another out when he’s out of sight, trying to calm your racing heart. You can’t wait to rave to the girls’ group chat about this, but one of your coworkers calls you for help and you have to put the handsome stranger to the back of your mind for a while.

—

That weekend, your parents ask you to do something about the cherries slowly starting to spoil in the fridge, so you put on your headphones and listen to an audiobook for entertainment, then get to pitting. It feels wrong to listen to The Kiss Quotient and its many smut scenes when your parents are coming and going out of the room, but what they don’t know won’t kill them; you just try to keep your reactions to a minimum during the extra spicy scenes.

Pitting cherries is an arduous task that always takes longer than you think it will, but you never complain about it. You’ve found the perfect technique of cutting them in half around the pit, turning the small fruit without squeezing it, extracting the stone and making sure it doesn’t get confused and end up in the bowl with the pitted cherries, all without tiring your wrists after ten minutes. A surprise pit in a cherry pie can add to the charm of a homemade dessert, but you’d rather not have to spit out five of them while trying to eat one slice.

You prepare a crumbly dough to make two classic American-style pies and fill four jars with cherry jam that you cook while the doughs rest. It’s almost offensive how small the cherries become as they cook, the amount that fills those four jars having filled eight before, but you decide there’s no reason to take it personally since the cherries don’t do it on purpose, and put the jars away to cool down. You roll out the first rested dough and despair for a bit when it keeps on falling apart, but it just makes it more satisfying once you have it perfectly thinly rolled out and covering the tin. The second one is a bit nicer to you and you only have to try rolling it out twice.

Two hours later, as the sun finally starts to relent and a cooler breeze flows through the air, the pies are all baked, cooled and ready to be eaten. You leave one for you and your parents to enjoy later, then head over to the next house to greet your new neighbors with the other pie. You knock and wait for a good thirty seconds before getting any sort of response, making you think no one’s in.

“Y/N?” a semi-familiar voice calls out, and your head whips in its direction. If this were a cartoon or a 2012 teen show, you’d probably drop the pie tin, but thankfully, your hands aren’t that sweaty, and the shock of the man from the other day at the store being your neighbor isn’t that great, because of course, of course he’s your neighbor. You’re Y/N, after all; the almighty gods above would never let you have a boring, uneventful summer. Of course the hot new man in town is your neighbor.

“Oh! Hi! Guess we’re neighbors. Ha,” you say with a clumsy smile, holding the tin over your forearm as your other hand shields your eyes from the sunlight so you can look at him without squinting your eyes.

“Neighbors?” he repeats as he joins you on the front porch, taking off his gloves dirtied by the mud and using the back of his hand to wipe off some sweat from his forehead. The sweat makes his hair stick to his face and there are small beads of it falling from his hairline down onto his white t-shirt. You detect the slightest of stubbles on his chin and upper lip, probably from not having shaved for just a day or two. He’s even tanner than when you saw him a few days ago, and his thick eyebrows form a straight line as he frowns in what you guess is tiredness and perhaps confusion from seeing you in regular clothes and holding a pie tin on his porch. For a second, you’re scared he might think you’re some kind of stalker, but you nod and tilt your head towards your house.

“Yep. That one just over there behind you.”

He turns his upper body to take a look at your house and nods slowly as he turns back around, gaze finding yours again like the other day at the store. You have no idea who this man is - hell, you don’t even know his name - but good lord are you attracted to him, especially when he gives you that unreadable smile that shows off his dimples.

“Huh. What a coincidence,” he says, and that could mean anything in the world, but you hope he means it in a good way. “I’m Sunghoon, by the way.” he adds, extending his hand for you to take, which you do, and the simple action of shaking his hand without eye contact ever breaking is enough to send shivers down your spine. Hopefully, this goes unnoticed by this Sunghoon.

A walking wet dream. That’s what this man is. He’s walked right out of your deepest Wattpad-induced fantasies and into the house next door. Probably doesn’t help that you’d been listening to literary porn just fifteen minutes prior.

“Is that pie?” he asks as he releases your hand.

“It is, cherry pie I made myself with cherries from our backyard. A housewarming gift, if you will. Here,” you reply, offering him the tin.

He takes it from your hands, the tips of his fingers slightly grazing yours, on purpose or not, you’re not sure. He lifts some of the aluminum covering the pie and peeks underneath, then hums appreciatively. “Thanks, it looks really good. I’ve been living off of ready-meals and casseroles from the neighbors, so this’ll be really nice.”

“Well we’ve got tons of cherries, so feel free to ask whenever you want some,” you offer, and he nods. A small silence settles between the two of you and you’re about to excuse yourself so it doesn’t get awkward when he invites you in, asking if you’d like to have a piece with him.

“If you want to, I mean. I was gonna take a break anyway,” he says somewhat coyly, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. You’re surprised to see him being anything else other than confident and self-assured, but it only makes him look cuter in your eyes.

“Sure,” you accept with a smile, letting him lead you inside the house.

“Sorry, it smells like paint all over the house. That’s why I was outside, doing some gardening while I aired the house out,” he explains. “Let me just get some plates and a knife out. And something for us to drink. Do you want to drink something? I’ve got water, or some iced tea or lemonade. The grandma across the street made some for me,” he says all at once, and you suppress a giggle at his sudden nervous behavior.

“Sunghoon?”

“Yeah?” he responds almost immediately, turning to you just as you both reach the kitchen.

“Just water is fine.”

A shy smile makes his dimples appear once again as he nods. “Okay, sounds good.” You help him carry everything to the back porch and set down the glasses and a jug of water on a table with two chairs around it.

“The porches are the only parts I won’t have to fix up too much, for some reason.”

“You’re going to redo the whole house yourself?” you ask, surprised, as you pour two glasses of water and he serves you a slice of cherry pie (“there might be some stray cherry pits, so be careful,” you warn as he sets a slice on his plate).

“A lot of it, yeah, but I’ve also got some people to help out. My dad’s a carpenter so I know my way around these things, but I also know it’s better and faster to have more than one man on the job, so some guys he works with come a couple times a week.”

“Yeah, with the state this house is in, you’d need more than a summer if you did everything yourself,” you comment, and he chuckles, agreeing. “My friends and I used to make stories about how this place is haunted, you know,” you say jokingly.

“Please don’t jinx my house from the get-go,” he says, making you laugh.

“Sorry, sorry. It’ll be nice seeing it all fixed-up, actually.”

“Have you lived here long?” he asks, looking at you thoughtfully as he takes another bite of the pie. “This is really good, by the way.”

“Thanks. And yeah, my whole life. I go away when semester starts but come back for the holidays and the summer.”

“So you're a student?”

“Yeah, just at the state university a few hours away. Not too far away that it’s a hassle traveling back, but not too close that I go home every weekend. What about you, what do you do?”

You wait for his answer while he swallows his mouthful and take another bite yourself. “I teach,” he starts as he dabs the corners of his lips with a napkin. “Fifth graders, on the other side of town. I used to live in a small apartment near the school I work at but it’s nicer, having more space. I saved enough money to buy this house and fix it up, so here I am now,” he says, gesturing to the house and the garden with his arms.

You notice his use of the first person pronoun when he talks about where he used to live and his house now, which makes you wonder if it’s just him, even though you were sure you heard a woman and a young girl’s voices the other day. Surely, if he wasn’t single, he wouldn’t have invited you in or given you flirtatious looks, right? Or were you reading totally wrong into this and he was just an exceptionally friendly person?

You put these questions to the side and continue chatting with Sunghoon, letting the subject of his marital status come up on its own during your conversation. And indeed, you get your answer when he tells you about the different parts of the house he plans on having, one of them being a bedroom for his daughter.

“Oh, so you have a daughter? How old is she?” you ask as you take a sip of water, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. Considering his age, you expect that his child will be one, two years old max, so his answer makes you almost choke on your drink.

“She’s turning eight this summer.”

“Eight?” you repeat as you set your glass down, looking at him wide-eyed. So much for nonchalance. “But you’re so-”

“Young? Yeah, I know,” he interrupts with a knowing smile, probably used to this kind of reaction. “I’m 26,” he adds, then watches as you do the simple math in your head. When you turn to him with a surprised look, he answers your question before you’ve even asked it. “Yep, I had her when I was 18.”

“Wow,” is all you can say. “Can I ask what happened?”

“Sure. I mean, it’s nothing extraordinary or anything. I was in my last year of high school, and I got my girlfriend at the time pregnant. We’d only been dating four months but her parents wouldn’t let her get an abortion. They’re really religious. They took care of our baby, with the help of my parents, while I went to community college and she retook senior year since she had to drop out halfway through the year. No, we’re not together anymore, if you’re wondering,” he says, catching you off guard, as if he’d read your thoughts.

He chuckles before sighing and continues. “If none of this had happened, we’d probably have broken up before going off to college and proceeded to forget about each other. We started out living with her parents, then got that small apartment I told you about when she found a job. We’re not on bad terms by any means, but we’ve just not been in love since Chaeryeong turned 2, probably. We’ve been more roommates than a couple for the past six years. And you know, we kept on living together for Chaer mainly, but she’s found a new boyfriend and I wanted to have my own place. Which has led me here.”

You nod slowly, letting the whole story sink in. “You’re both handling this situation really maturely, it sounds like. I’ve heard of so many teenage parents fighting all the time and not taking care of their kids properly.”

“She’s already got a weird parental situation, it’s the least we can do for her to behave like adults, you know.”

“Right, of course,” you say, nodding again. Your hot new neighbor was actually a DILF, you realized a bit inappropriately, perhaps. Cherry on top.

He tells you a bit more about his daughter and you keep talking until your dad calls you, asking you why you’re not home at dinner time, and you only notice then how long you’ve been sitting there with Sunghoon, just talking. You tell him you feel bad for taking up so much of his time but he shakes your apologies off.

“It was my pleasure, really. And thanks again for the pie, I think Chaer will love it.”

He walks you to the front door and calls out your name after you’ve waved goodbye and started walking. You didn’t know you had been expecting him to do anything until you heard the hopeful tone in your own voice. “Yeah?”

“You any good with kids?” he asks, leaning against the doorway with crossed arms and a smirk that makes your heart flutter.

Although you’ve only got one older brother, you have younger cousins as well as older ones that have babies of their own, so you’re not a complete stranger to kids, but more importantly, you like them. They have the world to learn, but they say surprisingly smart things and have really cute faces.

“I’d say that I am, yeah,” you reply, a smile growing on your face, mirroring his expression.

“Good,” he says, and pauses a second for good measure. “I’ll see you later.”

“See you later, Sunghoon,” you say as you turn back and head to your house, letting him enjoy the view of you walking away.

On the short way home, you realize that you completely have the hots for your neighbor, although you probably knew that before. Is it twisted that you like him more now that you know he’s got a kid? Probably a little bit, but you’re not going to fight it. He’s single, after all. And not even thirty. A five-year gap isn’t unheard of.

Your parents ask you where you’ve been as you set the table and get ready for dinner. “Just over at our new neighbor’s house to give him some pie and say hi,” you say as you toss the salad in its bowl, spreading the dressing evenly.

“Ooh, the neighbor,” your mother echoes knowingly, wiggling her eyebrows, and steals a leaf of lettuce when it falls from the bowl because of your vigorous tossing. “We should have him over at some point, welcome him into the neighborhood. I’ve seen him a bit, you know. Out painting on his front porch or when he was in his garden the same time as me. He’s a very attractive young man,” she says, lowering her voice so your dad doesn’t hear even though he’s outside grilling the meat. “Do you know how old he is? Looks a bit young for a homeowner to me, but who knows what young people are up to these days.

“He’s twenty-six, and he’s saved a lot of money. Plus, I don’t think that house was very expensive. From what he’s told me, the renovations will basically cost as much as the house itself. He’s also got a kid.”

“Aw, must be a cute baby,” she says as your father walks in, carrying a tray of steaming barbecued steaks and potatoes.

“She’s eight,” you say bluntly, causing them both to look at you with wide eyes.

“Oh, right, then. Happens,” your mother says, bringing her glass of water to her lips and taking a sip from it. “Is he still with the mother?”

“They broke up a while ago, but they’re on good terms,” you say, and your mom nods slowly at the information.

“So, he’s single, huh?” she says, trying to hide her smile, earning herself a groan from your dad and a chuckle from you.

“C’mon, mom!”

“What? You can’t deny that he’s attractive, and he’s single. Plus, you two must get along well if you spent a couple hours talking. Sure, he’s got a kid, but you love those, don’t you?”

“Mom, you of all people would know kids aren’t pets. Dating someone with an eight-year-old isn’t the same as dating someone with a cat.

“No one’s asking you to be that girl’s mom,” she says, dishing out some meat for the three of you. “I’d go get that man, if I were you.”

Your dad shakes his head and you eat your food as you listen to them bickering with a smile. You think about what your mother said - should you go and get Sunghoon? Your heart says yes, but your brain is a bit more reluctant. Another part of your body, lower down there, is screaming ‘yes’ at you.

He does live right by, after all.

That night, you FaceTime your roommate and best friend from college and bring her up to date about ‘the hot man from the store the other day.’ She paints her toenails but listens intently as she always does when you talk about boys, humming and chuckling here and there.

“God, Y/N, I didn’t know you had daddy issues, of all things.”

You gasp fake-dramatically. “Excuse me, I do not! I was attracted to him before I knew he was a dad, I’ll let you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Let me know when you guys actually hook up, I’m curious whether older men are actually better,” she says, making you scoff.

“I hope he is. I’m very much tired of those boys that don’t know where the clit is and use too much tongue.”

“You know, when I complain to my mom about guys, she always tells me to wait it out a few years. She says they get more mature and, well, she didn’t say that outright, but she very heavily implied that the sex is much, much better. Kinda gross hearing it from her, but it’s good information.”

You hum. “Well, he’s not that much older… But let’s hope that it still makes a difference,” you say, and then move on to another topic.

—

One thing that eating cherries has taught you is that if you want to enjoy eating the sweet flesh, you’ll need to deal with the pit as well. Ever the grand philosopher, you realized soon enough that this was applicable to real life and not just your favorite fruit. Wanna get a good grade on your test? Gotta study for it. Wanna go on holiday to Mexico? Gotta find a summer job and earn money.

Wanna make your way to Sunghoon’s bed? Gotta seduce him.

Over the following days, you stand behind the counter at the hardware store, elbow perched on the hard surface, head resting on your palm and vision fuzzy as you daydream about your next encounter with Sunghoon. More often than not, a customer will clear their throat to awkwardly let you know of their presence and you’ll have to exchange your imagined dialogue with Sunghoon for a quick apology and some pleasantries; more often than not, a coworker will call out your name for some help just as you get to the juicy part of your reverie. In those moments, you always feel like you’ve been caught red-handed watching softcore porn, even if no one knows the last thing about what goes on in your head, nor do they care.

Much like the first time he walked into the store, when he does again on a Thursday morning, you think your daydreams have just gone too far and you’re now hallucinating. But, lo and behold, this is the true Park Sunghoon in the flesh, and he smiles and waves at you as he strides in before disappearing behind one of the many aisles.

You spend the next fifteen minutes going over witty conversation starters that will surely make him fall for you, only for you to stutter out a “h-hi, Sunghoon,” when he finally reaches the counter.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he jokes, and you laugh a bit too hard for a comment that isn’t that funny.

“How are the renovations going?” you ask as you scan his articles - some more paint and brushes, lots of tile glue, a bunch of nails and two different sizes of turnscrews. He frowns in concentration at the snacks next to the counter until he caves in and gets a chocolate protein bar that’s more sugar than protein.

“Pretty okay,” he starts. “I’m in a bit of a rush, cause Chaer is already coming in two weeks and I need to have finished at least the interior by that time. My dad’s friends helped me get the roof done, so that’s good, but now they’re all busy with other sites so it's just me. Right now I’m redoing the tiles in the bathrooms. You need so much damn glue,” he says with a chuckle.

You think for a second, then timidly offer, “I could help out, you know. If you needed me to.”

He looks at you with raised eyebrows, halfway through getting his card out of his wallet. “Really?”

“I mean, I don’t have much experience with this kinda stuff, but I’ve picked up a few things here and there from working here. If it saves you time, I could do the easy things. This job isn’t particularly physically demanding so I’ve still got energy at the end of the day. That’s $78.96, please.”

A small smile appears on his face as he inserts his card into the reader. He punches in his code and then returns your gaze. “That could be nice, actually.”

And that’s how you find yourself over at Sunghoon’s house in denim shorts and your dad’s old t-shirts almost everyday for the next two weeks, helping him fix up the old two-storey home. He measures out the perfect length for wood planks or marble tiles that you assist him in fastening to the floors of different rooms and he fixes holes in walls that you paint over afterwards. Sometimes on your breaks, you share a bowl of cherries that you brought from your garden. (One morning, you tried to make cherry juice out of them, but when after almost two hours of pitting the liquid barely filled a glass, you decided that it was too much effort and that you’d keep on just eating them and baking the occasional pie.) You asked him to tell you what each of the rooms upstairs would be and you realized that the window of his room faced yours directly. The blinds were down as they had always been, so you hadn’t known what the room would be.

“I’ve been sleeping on the couch since I haven’t gotten around to fixing up this room yet. Guess I should get to it, though,” he says, giving you a look that blurs the meaning of his words so that you’re not sure what he’s implying, which happens a bit too often with Sunghoon.

And you’d think that spending the better part of two weeks with the current man of your dreams would be amazing, right?

Wrong. It’s unbearable.

Maybe that’s exaggerating it - it’s mostly fun, and sometimes unbearable. Usually, you’re an avid fan of sexual tension, especially with attractive men like Sunghoon. Lingering gazes, eye contacts when there shouldn’t be any, remarks with a deeper meaning that they let on, barely-there touches on the back of your hand or on your waist that manage to take your breath away. These are all very fine things that keep your heart bouncing and a blush on your cheeks, but they are supposed to amount to something more in the end. Maybe you’re impatient, but after two weeks of sending sex through your eyes to Sunghoon, you get the feeling that he doesn’t reciprocate your desire. One afternoon, you’d made sure to go and sunbathe in your bikini at the exact moment he was doing some work outside, and even then, he merely gave your body a one-over and disappeared a few minutes later inside his house. When he came back about ten minutes later, he could still barely look at you.

At the same time, there’s no way he doesn’t know what he’s doing when he stands close behind you, letting you feel the warmth of his chest against your back, big, rough hands enveloping yours as he demonstrates how to cut a plank of wood with the machine. There’s no way the way he smirks when the action turns you into a stammering mess is innocent, either.

Yet nothing happens. The tension is thick enough to be cut with a knife, but maybe Sunghoon hasn’t bought cutlery yet. The air is already heavy from the heat and the relentlessness of the sun, but this thing between you and him makes it almost suffocating, in somehow the best yet worst way possible. You’re this close to simply throwing your naked body at him, and it doesn’t help that you see his flexing, working muscles and beads of sweat on his hairline everyday. On the days he wears shorts, which is most days, all you can think of is getting off on his thick thighs, of his hands holding you tightly by the waist, of the way he’d look at you, eyes clouded over, of the words he’d whisper in your-

Your phone buzzes, interrupting you in your horny downward spiral. It’s your dear mother telling you to come home for dinner. As you pick up your phone, a second buzz. Ask Sunghoon if he wants to eat with us.

You find him in his bedroom, adding the last touches to the walls. “I think I’ll be able to sleep here starting tomorrow night. I just need to go buy a bed,” he says when he sees your figure standing in the doorway.

“We can go together if you want,” you blurt before you can stop yourself. Hoping it’ll make you seem less weird, you add, “I’ve got really good taste in furniture.”

“Is that so?” he questions, turning to you with a smile. “I’d appreciate the second pair of eyes, actually. There’s a lot of things I need to get.”

“Yeah, I didn’t wanna comment on it, but I think you’ll end up needing more than a couch, a plastic dining table and two chairs,” you tease, making him roll his eyes lightheartedly. “We can go to that huge second-hand store they have just outside of town. You’ll be surprised how good - and cheap - the furniture is there.”

“Sounds good,” he nods, and checks his watch. “Are you going home?”

“I am. My mom’s invited you over for dinner, if you’d like,” you say, tilting your head at him.

He raises his eyebrows in delighted surprise. “I’d love to. Just need to shower first.”

“That’s fine. I’ll go home, just come over whenever you’re ready.” You exchange quick see you laters and you head home, taking a shower yourself and making sure to use your best-smelling body lotion.

Sunghoon arrives half an hour later with a bouquet of roses in his hands and an award-winning smile on his face. You let him in and he greets your parents, offering your mother the bouquet. “Sorry I took so much time getting here, I wanted to pick these out as a thank you.”

You can tell your mother is pleased to the heavens as she waves him off, leading him inside your house. “That’s awfully nice of you, Mr Park-”

“Call me Sunghoon, please,” he says with a warm smile.

“Right, Sunghoon. And no worries, you’re just on time. Please, sit.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Oh, no, you’re working all day fixing up that house, just sit and relax. We’re very happy to have you over, aren’t we?” your mother says, sending a very obvious smile your way, which makes you furrow your eyebrows and shake your head lightly at her, silently telling her to shut up. Sunghoon chuckles at the exchange but says nothing and you want to bury yourself and your mother ten feet underground.

Sunghoon sits across from you at the dinner table, which allows you to stare unabashedly at him as he works his charm on your parents. He’s the neighbor, so technically, he’s not a boyfriend you brought home to meet them, but still, you can’t help but compare him to those few boys that you did bring home. None of them were a disaster, but none of them went as smoothly as this, either. There were always some awkward silences and dry chuckles with your past boyfriends, but Sunghoon clearly knows how to make parents happy. Maybe because he lived with his ex’s parents for so long, or maybe because he’s a parent himself. Either way, it only adds to your desire to take all of his clothes and let him rail you into next week. Too bad he clearly doesn’t feel the same way, you remind yourself with an audible sigh, which makes him look curiously at you, but you brush it off with a smile.

You watch as he accepts a beer, compliments the food and the house, talks football with your dad, accepts another beer, and shares teaching anecdotes with your mom, who herself is an elementary school teacher. You jump in every now and then when you have something witty to add or someone asks your opinion on something, but most of the time, you sit back and enjoy, happy that everything is going well.

You bring out your infamous cherry pie that you’d baked the previous day along with some vanilla ice cream for dessert, and smile when Sunghoon tells you how much he’d been waiting to have some of it again, trying not to blush as his gaze stays focused on yours for a second too long. Thankfully, your parents don’t notice, too busy cutting themselves a slice.

He stays for another hour or so, until the sun has set and the streetlamps and the moonlight are the only things keeping the world visible. Your mom forces him to accept tupperwares full of leftovers from the night and makes him promise to come back with his daughter. Sneakily, she tells you to help him carry the tupperwares home even though he’s more than able to do it himself, then hugs him goodbye, hurrying you out of the door.

Sunghoon hasn’t yet changed the lightbulbs to more efficient ones, so his kitchen bathes in the faint glow of the overhead lighting as you put away the leftovers in his fridge. He stands a bit to your right close behind you, closer than needed to simply hand you the tupperwares he was holding. When everything is stored, you turn around, but you’re trapped between his body and his arm that holds the fridge door open. With his free hand, he takes you by the waist and pulls you gently towards him. “Careful,” he says so quietly, it’s almost a whisper, and closes the fridge door behind you.

He’s never been this forward with you, and even though you’ve fantasized many times about this exact moment, now that it’s really happening, you don’t know what to do except to search for an explanation in his eyes. His eyes that are looking right into yours and are a bit clouded over, from the alcohol or the proximity between the two of you or both, you don’t know, but that also have the twinkle of a smile in them.

His lips are close enough to kiss, you think, and as if on cue, his gaze drifts down to your slightly parted lips. “You’re very pretty, Y/N,” he says, before sealing your lips with his own. You respond immediately to his kiss - you’ve thought too much about it to stand there and do nothing - but it’s all so slow and so soft that you’re not sure if it’s actually happening, so dreamlike it all feels.

You’re called back to reality when his other hand finds your waist, your own hands coming up to his shoulders before one of them snakes its way to the nape of his neck, tugging lightly at his hair. This seems to change something in Sunghoon, who all of a sudden tightens his hold on your waist, his arms wrapping around it to bring you closer to him. His kiss gets faster and deeper too, and, to your surprise but not your distaste, a bit desperate. You’re happy if you have on him half of the power he has on you. You taste sweet vanilla ice cream and tangy beer on his tongue, and it’s not at all unpleasant. It makes you want to eat cherries together so you can then taste them in his kiss.

A lustful sigh escapes your lips and then the warmth disappears all at once. Sunghoon looks at you like you just woke him up from a deep slumber and takes a step back away from you. You call out for him worriedly and the sound of his name seems to make him think he did something terribly wrong.

“I-I’m sorry, Y/N, I don’t know what came over me. We shouldn’t do this, it’s not- I shouldn’t have done that,” he sighs, looking defeatedly at the ground.

“Why?” you ask quietly, almost inaudible.

“You should go home,” he snaps, then closes his eyes as if in pain, cringing at his harsh tone. “I’m sorry. I think you should go home, it’s getting late,” he repeats, softer this time, but the words still sting.

“O-okay,” you say to the floor, already feeling tears well up in your eyes. You feel like you just got rejected by your high school crush, and the humiliation makes you want to crawl into a hole and die.

Sunghoon sighs again. “I’ll let you know tomorrow about the furniture shopping, yeah? Chaeryeong is coming in the morning so we can go with her.”

“O-okay,” you repeat, surprised he still wants to do that with you. “Good night, Sunghoon,” you say without looking at him and scurry out of his house.

“Good night, Y/N,” Sunghoon answers to the emptiness after you’ve left, touching his lips with the tips of his fingers and feeling the ghost of your kiss there.

—

Truth be told, you haven’t always loved cherries. Because of a heinous lie your older brother had made you believe when you were just six years old, you hadn’t eaten cherries for two summers in a row. It was the summer your parents had finally allowed you to eat cherries as they came from the trees in your backyard - beforehand, they’d been too scared that you’d choke on the pit or swallow it unknowingly, and had always prepared purées or other forms that cherries can take for you to eat, so to be finally handed the small fruit and told “go ahead, try it,” felt like an honor.

A simple “don’t forget to spit out the pit” from your mother had sufficed for you to be careful, and yet, your brother had thought a fear tactic would be more effective. “If you swallow it, a tree will grow inside your belly and make you puke out cherries,” he’d lied when it was just the two of you at the outdoor table.

“Really?” you asked him in disbelief, horror written all over your face as you looked at the seemingly harmless yet deadly fruit in your hand. You’d already eaten two and were in the middle of eating a third; your brother nodding ‘yes’ in response was all it took for you to spit out the cherry furiously and immediately start sobbing, afraid you’d swallowed one even though all three pits were right there on the table, a guarantee that no unwanted flora would grow inside of you.

Your mother rushed outside at the sound of your wailing and quickly put two and two together when she saw your brother laughing uncontrollably while you hid your face in your hands, desolately imagining your future as a walking cherry tree. She held you tight in her arms as she told your brother off and reassured you that he was just playing a stupid prank on you. Still, the simple thought of swallowing a pit had terrified you and you were unable to eat cherries for the remainder of the summer and the one after that.

This is the story you tell Chaeryeong and her dad as the three of you sit outside together, making them laugh - although, a few minutes later, when Sunghoon is gone to the bathroom away, Chaer leans over the table and whispers, “It’s not true, is it?” so you reassure her that you’ve eaten cherries your whole life and have never had one single root take life in your tummy.

It’s been a bit over a week after you shared that kiss in his kitchen, and the awkward atmosphere is just starting to fade. You’re glad he didn’t ignore you after that night, even if pretending nothing happened when both of you are very aware that something did happen is only the slightly better alternative. It’s a refreshing change from boys that sleep with you and then act like you don’t exist, for sure.

The kiss hasn’t done anything to burst the tension; if anything, it’s made it even more electric. You catch him looking at your lips more than once and you wonder why he still acts the same way as before when he’s made it very clear he didn’t think kissing you was a good idea. Catching him shirtless one night in his bedroom doesn’t help, and neither does him catching you staring at him - you’d quickly shut the curtains, but it was too late, and he’d seen you ogling his toned chest and abs.

At least, the fact that Chaeryeong is here forces a bubbly atmosphere upon you, and you hope you’re not crazy when you notice him fondly looking at the both of you interacting. Chaer is an outgoing little girl and seems to have liked you as soon as you complimented the toy puppy in her hand, saying you used to have the same and it was your favorite.

The day you went food shopping was practically hell to get through. One evening, you were holding onto Sunghoon for dear life, finally kissing him, and the next afternoon, you were browsing through the endless aisles of your local IKEA, holding his daughter’s hand and pretending like you hadn’t kissed her daddy.

When it got to the bedroom part of the store, you and Chaer decided to try all the mattresses and find the most comfortable one. You usually were never one for seating and laying on random beds in stores, but there was a kid with you, so you were sure it’d be fine. When you found the one you liked most, you looked up at Sunghoon from your position and said, “This one’s pretty good, Sunghoon.” His immediately reddening cheeks told you everything you needed to know and you quickly sat up, clearing your throat. He tested the mattress by pushing his palm against it and muttered a “yeah, it’s pretty good” before scribbling down the number of the mattress onto the small sheet of paper customers use to remember which products they wanted.

Of course, now that Chaer is with him and most of the work in the house is done, save for some minor things that Sunghoon can finish up on his own, you spend a lot less time together. You hate that you miss him so much. You miss the way he makes you feel, like your whole body is on fire with just one look or one touch, the way his stupid jokes make you laugh or how endeared he looks when he talks about his daughter. Seeing him with her only adds to your stupid crush - he’s doting, protective and caring, makes sure she has everything to be happy and manages to treat her at once like the kid that she is but also like a human that has opinions and feelings. He’s a really good dad, and that does nothing whatsoever to stop your DILF fantasies, although now, it’s really Sunghoon that you want, and the fact that he’s a dad isn’t a dealbreaker, it just makes him that much better.

You hate that you miss him, and yet being with him is somehow worse, because you can’t do any of the things you want to do. You fall asleep one two many nights dreaming about his lips and how nice it’d be to feel them again - on your lips, on your neck, everywhere. You want to feel him everywhere, and this longing lust is starting to drive you crazy. You’d never wanted anyone this much.

He invites you over for dinner one night, and the look he gives you when he opens the door sends a shiver right down your spine. “Hi, Y/N.”

“Hi, Sunghoon.”

He leads you into the kitchen with a hand on your waist, even though you’ve been in his house many times before and need no assistance getting there. A small, horny voice at the back of your head tells you that tonight may be the night, but you quickly shut it down, not wanting to get your hopes up all on your own.

Sunghoon serves you a glass of red wine, and you ask him what the occasion is. “Just to celebrate the house being almost done,” he answers with a smile.

Dinner would have gone as usual if Sunghoon wasn’t practically staring you down the whole time, eyes full of something you can’t quite put your finger on and that drives you crazy. His gaze lingers on you every time you speak, and he punctuates the syllables of your name like he’s trying to get a feel for them on his tongue.

Your heart is pounding in your chest when the clock strikes nine p.m. and it’s time for Chaeryeong to go to bed - you don’t know if you’ll be able to handle being alone with Sunghoon, and you might have to make a run for it, Cinderella-style.

Chaer goes to the bathroom to wash up and change into her pajamas, and when she comes back, she asks - no, demands - that you’re the one who tucks her in, and who are you to say no to the cutest little girl on Earth? She holds you by the pinky as she drags you up the stairs to her room then buries herself in her covers, tapping on the bed next to her body for you to sit there. “Okay, now we can talk without Dad around,” she says all business-like.

She tells you about the boys at her school and the birthday party she went to last week and the latest drama with her friends. The both of you are too busy chatting and giggling to hear footsteps coming up the stairs and stopping at her door, hiding behind the wall. After ten minutes, she yawns loudly and says, “Can you call Dad? I think he’ll be sad if he doesn’t wish me good night.”

“Of course,” you reply and kiss her on the forehead, wishing her a good night yourself. You’re only half-surprised to find Sunghoon at the doorway, waiting for his cue.

“Wait up for me, yeah? I’ll just be a minute,” he says, that smile still on his lips, that smile that keeps you hoping.

“Okay,” you whisper, and head downstairs, nervously taking a sip from your wine glass as you wait for him on the living room couch.

He is indeed back in a very short time, too short a time for your nerves to settle, so when he sits down close to you on the couch, body turned towards yours, you can feel your heart in your throat. He traces the rim of his glass with the tip of his pointer finger and you both watch the slow movement for a bit, a heavy silence hanging over both of your heads. You wait for him to talk because you’re too scared of what you might say if you start the conversation.

“Y/N, I’ve been thinking,” he starts shakily, “about um, our kiss, the other day-”

“Oh, we don’t need to talk about that,” you quickly interrupt, waving your hand in dismissal at him. “You made it clear you didn’t like it-”

“No, that’s the thing-”

“And that you thought it was a bad idea-”

“No, just listen-”

“So let’s just forget about it, and-”

“Y/N,” Sunghoon says in a stern voice, raising his tone just enough to make you stop in your rambling.

“Yeah?” you look up at him, eyes wide open. Expecting, as always.

“I haven’t once stopped thinking about that kiss,” he says, sounding out-of-breath. “I handled it awfully, and I’m so sorry that I made you feel like I didn’t like it, because, God, I liked it. A lot,” he chuckles. “Maybe even too much.”

There they are, the words you’ve been dying to hear. Yet all you can say is a stupid “Oh.”

“I just… I was tipsy, and Chaeryeong was coming the next morning, and I panicked. I didn’t know what to do for the rest of the week, and you didn’t say anything, so I didn’t, either. But I can’t pretend like it isn’t there.”

“Like what isn’t there?” you echo, voice almost low as a whisper.

“You know… this,” he replies, voice as low as yours. Slowly, one of his hands comes up to trace your jawline. You release a shaky breath as you set your wine glass on the coffee table and rest your hand on his knee.

“Are you sure about this? ‘Cause if you tell me that you want me… then I’ll be all yours, Sunghoon,” you murmur, hands slowly sliding up his thigh. He takes you by the wrist and puts your hand right on top of his already growing erection, letting you know exactly how he feels about you.

“God, can’t you see what you do to me? I want you so bad, Y/N,” he almost growls, and with that, his lips are on yours, trapping you into a kiss far hungrier and more ferocious than the previous kiss, your mutual intentions finally laid out in front of you for you both to see.

Sunghoon wastes no time as he grabs you by the waist and brings you to his lap, sitting you on top of his crotch so that you can feel his hardening cock against your core. The kiss turns desperate in mere seconds, and you’re relieved to see that Sunghoon seems to have been waiting for this as long and with as much ardor as you have. Your hands are fisting his hair, tugging almost harshly, while his hands roam the expanse of your back until they settle on your ass, grabbing at it to press you closer to him. You can’t stop yourself from moaning into his mouth when his erection rubs over your core in just the right way, and he takes that opportunity to add tongue to the kiss, deepening it.

You start to grind yourself against him, which he helps you do by slightly rutting his hips into yours and bringing your ass closer at every movement. Quickly, you fall into a rhythm so perfect and that feels so good, you think you might explode right then and there. Forget riding his thigh, this is infinitely better.

Needing to catch your breath, you pull away from the kiss, but your lips find his jaw immediately and you start pressing wet, needy kisses there and down his neck, sucking in some spots so that light bruises appear. “Fuck, Y/N, that feels so nice,” he breathes, eyes shut closed. His scent drives you crazy, and his small praise makes you double down on your actions, almost biting the soft skin of his neck.

As you continue kissing him there, occasionally returning to his lips for more, his hands roam your thighs and then up your back, snaking themselves under your t-shirt and finding the clasp of your bra, quickly doing away with it. He pulls away just so he can help you out of your top and takes your bra off of you, hands caressing your sides as he admires your half-naked body in all its glory. You take his hands and bring them to your chest, resting your hands on top of his as you continue grinding onto him and let him play with your boobs. “You’re so fucking hot,” he practically moans, making you chuckle. You reach for the hem of his t-shirt, because it’s only fair that you get to see him too, and you bite back a moan when he uses the absence of your hands on his to pinch your nipples lightly, then takes one in his mouth, catching you off-guard. You forget all about your plan of undressing him as his tongue flicks at the perked bud, your hands finding his hair again as you moan unabashedly.

“S-Sunghoon,” you breathe, the combined feelings of his now fully hard cock pressing against your clothed but soaking cunt and of his warm mouth around your nipples really getting to your head and making you see stars, so that all you can say is his name. “Please,” you beg, you’re not sure what for. Mercy, perhaps. Or release.

“Please what, baby?” he asks, and the nickname goes straight to your core.

“I don’t- just, please, Sunghoon, please,” you say incoherently, making him chuckle.

“Okay,” he says as if he can read your mind, and you think he actually does when he lays you down on the couch, fingers finding the zipper of your shorts. He unbuttons them and slides them down your legs along with your soaked panties. He makes sure they’re fully off of your body before running his palms up both of your legs, from your ankles to your hips.

“Don’t tease, please,” you plead, too desperate for him to take his time.

“As you wish, princess,” he smirks, and brings a finger to your folds, sliding it down to gather some slick before pushing it inside your hole. Your back arches as an instant response to his touch and you let out a small whine, already craving for more. “Fuck, so wet, and all for me, yeah?” he questions, his eyes not once leaving your glistening pussy.

“Yes,” you breathe out, mind too fuzzy to produce a longer sentence.

“That’s a good girl,” he coos, and adds another finger, pushing all three of his knuckles in and massaging your sweet spot as soon as he finds it. When he’s found a rhythm for his motions, he finally looks up at you and curses himself for not having watched your face earlier. Head tilted back in pleasure, mouth agape as your breathing gets more and more irregular and eyebrows scrunched together, you look like the definition of sex, and it takes everything in Sunghoon to not start touching himself.

He forces himself to look away from you only to focus back on your pussy and notices your swollen clit that is begging for attention. He licks it tentatively, and when your back arches at the feeling of his tongue on you, he dives in completely, licking a stripe up your folds before wrapping his lips around the bud and sucking at it like he did with your nipples earlier. The pace at which his fingers are pumping out of you quickens and you’re pulling so hard at his hair, you think you might rip some strands off. You feel yourself getting close, and you’re reminded of all those frustrating encounters with college boys where they stopped right before you came, so you can’t stop yourself as you desperately chant “oh my God please don’t stop please don’t stop,” not even noticing the way you’re holding his head down against your clit and bucking your hips into his face.

Your orgasm hits you like a truck - this is probably the first one you’ve received from someone other than your own hand or your vibrator in the past year and a half. It takes your breath away, and you’re left gasping for air for a good thirty seconds, your mind reeling from the intensity of such pleasure. When you calm down, you lift your head to look at Sunghoon who’s already watching you with a grin on his face, your slick coating his chin and mouth.

You plop your head back down with a groan when realization hits you. “I’m sor-”

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” Sunghoon commands, hands rubbing your still-trembling thighs. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” he marvels, and you can’t help but giggle.

“Really?”

“Really.”

After another couple of seconds, you sit up on the couch and send Sunghoon a mischievous look. My turn, you think, and if his smile is any indicator then he seems to have understood. “Let me thank you,” you say, gesturing at him to sit up himself as you lower yourself to your knees on the couch in front of him.

You look up at him from between his thighs then unclasp his belt and undo his jeans. He lets out a shaky breath and says, “You don’t need to do this, you know-”

“Don’t be a gentleman, Sunghoon. I want to do this and I know you want it too. It’s pretty obvious,” you tease as you run your hand over his erection, watching in delight as his eyebrows furrow and his eyes close. “Now help me get these off of you.” He nods and raises his hips so you can take his jeans and underwear off, imitating his actions from before as you take your time to get them over his ankles and caressing his legs until they reach his crotch, watching as he takes his t-shirt off as well so that you can finally see him entirely. You’d caught glimpse of him shirtless before as he worked in his garden, but the sight still manages to take your breath away. Taut muscles and sun-tanned skin, laid bare right before you. This is what they mean by sculpted like a Greek god, you think.

You haven’t done anything, yet his head is already laid back against the top of the couch, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he gulps in expectation and chest rising visibly at every intake of breath. You must’ve saved a thousand souls in your previous life to be deserving of such an image.

You spit in your palm before taking him, starting out by slowly moving your hand up and down his shaft, then rubbing small circles against his tip, the small moan-like sighs that leave his lips letting you know you’re doing a good job. You gather some saliva in your mouth and spit on his length to add some lubricant and smirk when he lets out a low fuck. You bring your head closer and lick his balls, taking one at a time in your mouth and sucking very gently, making the volume of his moans increase. “Just like- fuck, just like that, Y/N.”

You then lick a long stripe up his cock and swirl your tongue around his tip when you reach it, humming at the taste of precum there. Sunghoon gathers your hair in a makeshift ponytail so it doesn’t get in your way, and finally looks down at you, blown away by the beautiful sight of your flushed cheeks and your mouth around his cock. He groans when you take him deeper and unconsciously bucks his hips into your throat, making you gag around him. He loves that feeling but doesn’t want to hurt you so he grabs your face and makes you look up at him, lust and worry written all over his face as he apologizes, but you quickly stop him. “It’s okay, I like it. You can do it again,” you say, and smile before wrapping your lips around him once more.

“Fuck, are you sure?” he asks and you hum, sending vibrations all over his body.

“God, o-okay,” he says, in disbelief that you’re okay with him practically fucking your throat and even liking it. And you do like it - you love letting him use your mouth to get off, just like you had earlier with him. He must have amazing core strength because he’s able to buck his hips into your mouth rapidly as he holds your head tight in his hands. The way you keep coming back for more every time he lets you breathe is enough to drive him crazy, but after a couple minutes, he stops you from taking him in your mouth again.

“I can’t- I don’t wanna cum like this,” he breathes, looking just as fucked-out as you do.

“Where, then?” you ask, kissing him all over his thighs as he trails his fingers through your hair. “Inside?”

He groans at the offer but shakes his head, eyes shut as if trying to calm himself down. “I haven’t got any condoms.”

“I’m on the pill,” you tell him, still pressing kisses on his warm skin. You’re far too desperate to feel him inside you to let a lack of condom stop you, especially when you don’t even need one.

He lets out an umpteenth shaky breath and makes you look up at him. “Are you sure?”

“Sunghoon,” you say, looking him dead in the eyes, “I’ve never been more sure of anything.” You’re relieved when he smiles and nods, bending down to trap your lips in a heated kiss for good measure. Something about being in this position, kneeling in front of his spread thighs and having to look up at him, turns you on even more.

“Okay, then,” he says, still smiling as he pulls away, holding you gently by the chin. “I don’t think I’ll be able to last long, and I want to feel you cum around me. So, tell me, what’s your favorite position, princess?”

The question takes you aback but you answer it anyway, looking at the ground. “Reverse cowgirl…” you admit shyly, a small smile spreading on your lips.

“Reverse cowgirl, huh?” Sunghoon repeats, and you don’t need to look at him to know he’s smirking. “Come here, then,” he says, and helps you up, making you turn around so your back faces him and seats you down on top of him, keeping your hips raised. He takes his cock inside his hands, pumps it a few more times before guiding it to your entrance, pressing kisses to your shoulders and nape to make you relax.

You moan at the simple feeling of his tip teasing your entrance and Sunghoon whispers “I know, baby” against your skin. “Sit down for me,” he commands gently, and you oblige, lowering your hips slowly to feel all of him stretching you out, the both of you moaning in synchronization when he bottoms out.

Sunghoon wraps an arm around your middle and pulls you onto him so that your back rests against his chest and you can let your head hang back next to his. “Let me do all the work, yeah?” he murmurs into your ear, and you hum in response. He doesn’t move for a bit, roaming his large hands all over your body until he feels your walls relax around him. One of his hands finds your breasts, playing with each nipple in turn, while the other finds your clit. It’s all so much but so good that you’re already a moaning mess before he’s even started moving. “Ready?” he asks, but you’re too far gone to answer.

His pace starts out slow, but you’re impatient and whine as you try to move your hips against his to go faster, which makes him tut. “I told you I’d do the work, didn’t I?” he asks, pinching one of your nipples in reprimand. “So be good for me and stay still, Y/N. I promise I’ll make you feel good.” You whine again but stop moving, heeding his words.

“Perfect,” he whispers and kisses your neck before picking up the pace, shushing you when your moans get too loud.

“I’m sorry, just feels too good,” you manage to let out.

“I know, but you need to stay quiet, baby,” he says, yet gets rougher with his thrusts, which does not help in the slightest. His hand that was on your breasts comes up to cover your mouth, but he quickly decides to make you suck on two of his fingers instead, muffling your moans a bit.

His fingers on your clit haven’t relented this whole time and after just a few minutes, you feel that familiar knot tying itself again in your stomach and you know you’re mere moments away from it coming undone. Judging by his rapid but clumsy thrusts, Sunghoon must be close too. He pounds into you like you’ve been wanting him to ever since you first set eyes on him as he entered the hardware store, hitting your g-spot over and over again. Tears roll down your cheeks and you whimper around his fingers, biting down on them as your second orgasm hits you.

You’re practically sobbing as he helps you ride out your high, his movements sending your body into pleasant overstimulation until he reaches his high too, the feeling of your pussy clenching tightly around him pushing him over the edge. Ropes of his semen paint your walls white, and there’s enough of it for him to become a father of two. You whine as he pulls away, and feel his cum slipping out of you and onto the couch underneath you. Before you can catch your breath, he asks, “Baby, can I do something very dirty?” and you nod without thinking much. This man could do anything he wanted to you, and you’d thank him for it.

He settles you back down onto the couch, kneels on the floor, head level with your core, and sticks his tongue inside your hole, making you yelp in surprise and overstimulation. You don’t understand what he’s doing until he comes back up and makes you open your mouth with his thumb, then spits inside it, telling you to swallow. You do as he says and taste his cum, laughing in disbelief at what he just did - and at how much you liked it. “Fuck,” you giggle.

“Was that too much?”

“God, no,” you say, and he smiles. You open your arms, gesturing for him to get back on the couch. He rests his head between your breasts, the both of you sighing in contentment as he rubs small circles on your belly and you graze your fingers through his hair. He’s so silent that you think he’s fallen asleep, but he speaks up after a while, voice soft and calm like you’ve never heard before.

“We should go get cleaned up…” he says, and you hum in agreement, “...but it’s so nice here,” he finishes, making you giggle.

“If we get cleaned up quickly now, we can cuddle in bed right afterwards,” you argue.

“You’re right. Infallible logic. You’re so smart, you know that, Y/N?” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Of course I know that,” you joke. “Let’s go,” you say, kissing the top of his head.

You take a shower together, cleaning each other and leaving kisses here and there, or touching in places you shouldn’t touch and that maybe lead to more, right there in the shower. Now that you’ve had a taste, you’re insatiable, and you warn Sunghoon that the both of you are in for a very long night, to which he answers that he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Once you do fall asleep, (which isn’t until two rounds later, and you’re surprised either of you have this much energy), however, you’re holding each other tightly, the fan on high so that you don’t feel all sticky, being so close to each other. Even if you wake up here and there because he shuffled or he snored too loudly, it’s one of the best sleeps you’ve ever had.

—

You wake up the next morning by small giggles and snorts that come from none other than Park Chaeryeong herself, who’s buried herself between you and her dad, shaking her body to wake the two of you. You’re glad that you listened to Sunghoon when he told you to put on a t-shirt of his as well as some underwear so neither you or Chaer would have a fright when she came and woke you up as she liked to do every morning. “You had a sleepover!” she exclaims excitedly when she sees you’ve finally opened your eyes, looking at her with a sleepy expression and a smile.

“We did!” you reply, trying to keep the same level of excitement.

“We did,” Sunghoon repeats, taking his daughter in her arms to hug her tightly and blows a raspberry in her neck to make her laugh.

“You didn’t invite me!” she shrieks when her dad’s left her alone.

“Sorry, sweetheart. It was just me and Y/N.”

“No fun,” she pouts, laying on her back and crossing over arms before turning back to her dad. “So, is Y/N my new mom?” she whispers even though you’re right there. You gasp at her question, making wide eyes at Sunghoon who just snorts, and you can’t tell if she’s genuinely asking or if she’s an eight-year-old with an advanced sense of irony.

“Of course not. Is Heeseung your new dad?” he asks, mentioning his ex’s new boyfriend. Chaer shakes her head.

“No. He’s Mommy’s boyfriend.”

“Exactly, and Y/N is Daddy’s girlfriend. Isn’t she?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you, smirking.

“She is,” you reply, and Chaer turns back to you, giggling. She snuggles close to you, wrapping an arm around your middle, and you’re taken aback by the sheer cuteness of it all. You look at Sunghoon with a fake pained expression, and he smiles endearingly at the two of you before sighing and joining you in your hug. He rests his arms around you and his daughter, kissing the top of your heads in turn.

“My girls,” he mutters in your hair, and you smile peacefully.

There’s a lot of things you have to talk about with Sunghoon. You know your parents - especially your mom - will be okay with the two of you together, but will his parents be? And once semester starts again, what will happen? You’ll have to go back to campus and he’ll have to stay here - will a three-hour drive be a dealbreaker, or will you make it work?

The thing is, there’s no point in thinking about all of this at this moment. You’ve got the whole summer to figure things out. For now, you’ll eat cherries and spit out the pits, and everything will be perfect.

this is a one shot, there will not be a part two!

permanent taglist: @k-ingzo @bbujiikseu @sunghoonmybeloved @lalalalawon @sd211 @w3bqrl @raikea10 @wntrnghts (ask to be removed/added!)

#enhypen x reader #sunghoon x reader #enhypen smut #sunghoon smut #enhypen hard hours #sunghoon hard hours #sunghoon fluff #enhypen fluff #enhypen fanfiction #sunghoon fanfiction #enhypen imagines #sunghoon imagines

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raggedyflowers · 1 year ago

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“When you try to rizz them up”

summary: one piece character reacting at you (trying) to rizz them up. it’s my first time writing smut so … don’t look at me I’m shy (may delete later)

character: Ace, Law, Sanji, Zoro x female reader

cr: NSFW 🔞, heavily flirting, suggestive words, semi public sex

Ace:

Drinking with Ace was not a smart idea ‘cause while the alcohol went directly on your brain, it seemed that Ace burned it as soon as it touched his lips. So it’s not a big surprise when at the end of the evening you were drunk, but he was perfectly fine. “So” you smirked at him, with a courage you usually didn’t have. “You catch fire only to the fist or even up the elbow?” it was such a dumb line that you should’ve feel embarrassed even if drunk, but Ace found it endearing. “You are so out your mind right now, y/n” he told you, helping you get to your room. “You make me out of my mind” you kept going, ignoring his laughter. “Whatever you say” he respond to you. “Usually I’m better at flirting” you mumble to yourself. “You’re going great, why don’t you try when your sober?” he asked you with a smirk, leavening you at the door at yours room without words. The next time you hanged out together, Ace kept an eye on you. “Try to remain sober this time, y/n” he winked at you. “I really wanna satisfy your curiosity”.

that night he did satisfy your curiosity… and not just that

you two found your way to Ace’s room and then he showed you how fast he can warm up the situation

He let you sit on his face and he spent the night eating you out

Law:

Your relationship with Law has always been private and even if someone could have said that he was cold with you, you know behind closed door Law was nothing but a loving and caring partner. It didn’t stop you to try to rizz him up in front of the rest of the Heart Pirates. You loved seeing him blushing, but most of all you loved what did come after. “You don’t need to use your devil fruit” you said to a confused Law. “You already have my heart”. You look satisfied the red cheek of your boyfriend who shock his head. “Why are you like that, y/n-ya?” he asked talking over the laughter of your crewmates. “Like what?” you asked innocently. “I just want you to shamble my organs with your dic —” you never finished the sentence since Law grabbed your arms and took you away.

“You already stopped being a brat, eh y/n-ya?” he asked after pinned you at the wall as soon as you two have entered in his room

You could’ve just bite your tongue for keeping your moans low

“Ah-ah” he said while slowly tracing your entrance with his tattooed fingers. “Don’t stop talking now. Let everyone hear you like before”

And then he push his fingers inside of you and you couldn’t do nothing but scream his name

Needles to say your organs were actually shambled that night

Sanji:

“You should wear the burgundy suit more often” you said to Sanji taking him aback. “Mmh?” he asked you, stopping cutting the vegetables. “I need something pretty to look at”. You always said things like that to him, joking mostly, but not entirely. And you loved seeing his cheek turning red after you called him pretty. “Move please, pretty boy” you said one day passing near to him and grabbing his waist to move him. “Y/n ~ ” he mumbled covered by your laugh. “Pretty, really?” he asked you and you cupped his check. “The prettiest” you said to him. “Not as pretty as you, my love” he told you back. “Wanna show me how much pretty you can be for me” you asked him with a mischievous smile.

he did show you how pretty he is

with his red cheek and sweet smile while he pounded into you

“you are the prettiest” he said you groping your breast while he kept his pace. “taking my cock so well”

but really he was the prettiest boys, especially when he lowered himself and started eating you out

Zoro:

One of your favourite activities on the Sunny was watching Zoro work out. You pretended to read a book but your eyes couldn’t help but to lingering on his sweaty body. “Your book is upside down” he said to you with a smirk. “Really?” you asked, without an ounce of shame. “Are you training on the forth swords styles?” Zoro looked at you with confusion. “You know, the other sword in your — ” you pointed at his pants. He smirked. “Wanna found out?” he smirked again.

he actually spent all night “practicing” with his forth sword

you never been more happy to indulge him

“do you like my sword style?” he asked you while keeping the brutal pace pounding into you

you wanted to say yes, but couldn’t form a single thought

#one piece #straw hat pirates #trafalgar law #one piece fluff #sanji x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar one piece #one piece fanfiction #roronoa zoro #one piece zoro #zoro x reader #black leg sanji #sanji one piece #ace one piece #ace x reader #ace d portgas #one piece smut #reader insert

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mangostarjam · 6 months ago

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knot happening (part two) — bnha, alpha!bakugou katsuki x f!reader, aged up characters, established relationship, a/b/o dynamics, use of "baby", "pipsqueak", "brat", "little shit" as pet names, dubious HR ethics, questionable sex toys, reader wears a skirt at the end, smut, creampies, oral sex, knotting, omegaverse!au for the spring fever collab run by @lorelune ! 10k words lmao

part one

your new company has some interesting policies for employee heat cycles, but your boyfriend and mate has no intention of letting you off easy

It starts with cravings.

All of Bakugou Katsuki's well intentioned efforts to keep you from dying of malnutrition or scurvy fly out the window as you enter your pre-heat. Your Pro Hero boyfriend and mate turns his nose up at the strawberry pocky you crunch on the couch, rolls his eyes at the cherry and dark chocolate chip ice cream you scoop after dinner, and pouts at the mango and sticky rice cups you devour after work.

"It all has fruit in it," you point out. "And besides, you always steal half my daifuku mochi before I can finish it. Complain about that, you thief!"

Katsuki, to his credit, retaliates by making your favorite veggie-laden meals for the cute bentos he puts together for your lunches. You pop open the container and you're greeted by stupidly cute penguins crafted from seaweed and rice, mushrooms and bell peppers nestled next to perfect rolled egg omelettes, carrots cut into little stars and cucumbers that look like clouds.

You take a photo of your lunch and send it to your boyfriend. He texts back "?????" and you frown at your phone.

Katsuki calls a moment later. "Don't tell me you're suddenly allergic to cucumbers."

His voice is rough and low — he must be in the office, if the distant chatter of his fellow heroes is anything to go by — but he's probably turned off into a side hallway because Eijiro's teasing has lately turned into casual remarks about marriage, and… yeah, of course Katsuki's gonna marry you, but he doesn't need his best friend to bring it up every time he's on the phone with you.

"I might be allergic to how cute these are," you say, but there's laughter in your voice and he scrunches his nose, so pleased he can feel the tips of his ears heat up. "How am I supposed to eat this?! This poor rice penguin has never done anything wrong in its life!"

Katsuki snorts quietly into his gloved hand. "D'you want me to make your food look ugly next time?"

You beam down at your bento and kick your feet beneath your desk. "Thanks for making me lunch, loverboy."

"Can't have you dyin' while I'm fuckin' you dumb," Katsuki's already low voice gets lower. The rough timbre of it so intimately in your ear sends a thread of desire straight to your core and you shift uncomfortably, glancing around your office. Luckily, it's empty — everyone's out for lunch because it's such a beautiful spring day, but you forgot to take your allergy medicine and you don't want to tempt disaster. "Leaving you in bed this morning was a crime."

"H-huh?" you set your feet on the ground and sit up a little straighter. "Babe, shut up. What if someone overhears you!"

"Then they'd be too damn close to you and I'll need to punch their lights out," Katsuki states matter of factly.

"So protective," you tease, settling back into your seat. He's trying to rile you up — he knows what his low tone does to you — but you're going to make it through your pre-heat without alerting your company even if it kills you. "I'll see you later, 'kay? Kick some ass, baby."

Your boyfriend mumbles something that sounds suspiciously cheesy before he hangs up, and you eat your lunch with gusto. It's day two of your pre-heat and so far it seems like nobody can tell. Your cravings are easy to pass off as a strong sweet tooth, and Katsuki's patrol schedule has kept him away from picking you up after work. You slapped a pheromone suppressor on your neck this morning and then styled up your business casual outfit with a loose silk scarf, so it should be… fine.

Your phone vibrates with a text and you swipe it open without thinking. The sound that leaves your mouth at the sight that greets you is unholy and you slam your phone facedown on your desk.

What the fuck.

"…You alright there, newbie?" Akane from Sales pauses in the act of draping her jacket over her chair. "Did you get a spam call?"

"Just peachy!" you croak out. You clear your throat as more of your coworkers file back in from their lunch break. "I thought I saw a bug, that's all!"

More like a closeup photo of your boyfriend's bulge in his hero suit, clearly stiff and straining hard against the heat resistant fabric, his easily recognizable gloved hand dangerously close to palming the thick outline —

Akane makes a funny face. "And you smashed it with your phone?"

"It was just instinct," you say sheepishly, "I'm fine with bugs where they belong, and they don't belong on my desk!"

Akane and your other coworkers nod at this and the conversation shifts, so you take advantage of everyone's inattention to pick your phone back up. You do it gingerly, as if there really is a bug squished underneath, but really you're just trying not to accidentally flash Pro Hero Dynamight's crotch shot to the world.

You can see the headlines now:

"Pro Hero Dynamight Ready to Blow!"

"Dynamight Explodes Up to the Top Ten Sexiest Pro Heroes with Infamous Shot!"

"Is the Great Explosion Murder God Packing the Heat?"

Katsuki's PR team would kill you. You quickly slide your phone beneath your desk and swipe away from your texts, breathing a sigh of relief when the (annoyingly tasteful) shot disappears from your screen.

Your phone vibrates with texts the rest of the day. No more photos (you can't tell if you should be grateful or mournful about this) but judging from the text previews you hastily swipe away on your screen, Katsuki's clearly out to get you. He seemed normal this morning — his lips brushed your cheek gently as you drew the blankets up to your chin — so what is his problem?

You finally get a chance to read his texts while waiting for your train at the station. Your eyes widen as you scroll through the messages — they're filled with his typical profanity, but he's practically written an instruction manual on all the ways he's imagined fucking you today. Your hand rises unwittingly to your pheromone suppressor patch. Maybe you should wear it at night, too, so he won't get so worked up? Though you kind of doubt it's working at all, since reading his texts is making you shift where you stand, heat pooling in your core.

The station is crowded with evening commuters — packs of students giggling and chattering among themselves, other tired office workers tapping away at their phones, little kids holding hands so they won't get separated — and nobody is paying you any mind. Maybe your suppressors are working after all? Wait — are they supposed to keep your pre-heat pheromones from leaking out or in?

Your ears perk as the pleasant tone signaling the arrival of your train jingles through the crowd. It's a quick ride three stops down to your apartment, which is one stop away from Katsuki's agency Ground Zero. When the two of you were looking for a place together, Katsuki insisted that it be just outside of his patrol range — close enough for him to get there quickly, but far enough that he would be able to actually relax at home. You can hear the familiar sound of a knife meeting a cutting board while you toe off your shoes in the genkan, lifting your nose to the air as the comforting smell of rice cooking wafts towards you.

"I'm home!" you call out, bypassing the kitchen to strip out of your work clothes. You sigh with relief as you toss your pants into the laundry basket, dragging one of Katsuki's well-worn hoodies over your head and tugging a pair of his workout shorts up your hips. They smell like him — smoky and rich and a little bit sweet — and you burrow into the comfort with a hum of pleasure.

The sizzle and crack of veggies and rice hitting the pan fill the air as you make your way into the kitchen. You follow your nose and ears happily, mouth already watering at the thought of eating more of Katsuki's cooking, but you stop dead at the entrance and make a funny strangled sound.

Asshole. Is he doing this on purpose? He's totally doing this on purpose.

"Welcome home," Katsuki says, rising from a crouch to his full, intimidating height and giving the pan another flick of his wrist. Sometimes you forget how broad your Pro Hero boyfriend is, but it's abundantly clear when he's standing in front of the stove shirtless like some kind of wet dream. He barely gives you a once over, just a casual glance of red that sends heat rushing to your cheeks before he turns his attention back to the stove.

You know — and you know he knows — that certain instincts flare up with your pre-heat. Everyone has different symptoms. The food cravings are one thing, for you, but they're manageable and easy to pass off as unrelated. Wanting to be covered in your mate's scent is another thing entirely, and while it's a relatively common symptom, it never fails to embarrass you, especially because you know how much Katsuki secretly likes it.

"What're you making?" you ask. Katsuki keeps his eyes on his pan, so you take the opportunity to ogle him freely, admiring the strong set of his shoulders and the firm lines of back muscle on full display. Stupid Katsuki with his stupid workouts making him look like a goddamn god. From your position at the kitchen entrance, you're close enough to see the pale scars crisscrossing his skin and the way the edge of his lips lift in a smug, self-satisfied smirk as he catches you checking him out. He's easily the hottest man you've ever seen in your life.

"Chicken fried rice," he says, snapping you out of your blatant stare. "It's almost done."

"You're telling me a chicken fried this rice?" you joke, grinning widely when Katsuki snorts and rolls his eyes at you. "Here, lemme set the table."

The two of you prepare for dinner companionably, though Katsuki definitely hovers more than usual. You can't help but lean back into his firm (and very naked) chest as he stands behind you while you reach up for plates, his hands heavy on your hips to help you balance. He also sets your plate piled high with fried rice next to his own at the table instead of across as usual, and when you make a questioning sound he just arches a brow expectantly.

"What? Sit and eat your fucking vegetables, pipsqueak."

"That's not my question," you giggle, accepting the seat he holds out for you. He spins it sideways easily, so that you're suddenly facing his own chair instead of the table, a casual show of strength that sends a shiver up your spine. Then he sits next to you with a grunt and immediately grabs your bare legs to drape them over his lap, forcing you to cling to his arm in surprise. "What the hell!"

"Shaddup," Katsuki mumbles, keeping a firm grip on your bare legs. "You can eat like this, right?"

You can, though you have to wiggle a bit and hold your plate in your lap. The changed angle gives you a perfect view of your boyfriend's profile, and you look at him for a moment, admiring the cut of his jawline and the slope of his nose.

"Quit starin'," he says. The pale scar along his cheek lifts when he shoots you a smug grin. "Your food's gonna get cold."

"You're the one who made me sit like this," you point out. You scratch at the side of your neck absently, but your nail catches on the suppressant patch and you pause. "Do you know if these patches are to keep the pheromones in or out?"

Katsuki takes a big bite of his fried rice and chews carefully. "Nothing's gonna stop your pre-heat from affectin' you," he says evenly. "And normally it'd keep 'em from leakin' out, but," he takes a deep breath and finally meets your eyes, "I'm your mate, so that shit doesn't work on me."

"Oh." Your voice is small even to your own ears. Katsuki's red hot gaze stays fixed on you for another long, torturous moment before he drags his attention to his food. "Is that why… you sent me a dick pic?"

Katsuki chokes on the spoonful of fried rice he just brought to his lips and his hand comes up to slap against the table. You crack a grin and pick up your own spoon. "That wasn't — wasn't a fuckin' dick pic, you perv."

"Sure looked like it to me," you say cheerfully. The fried rice is delicious and you nearly moan with satisfaction, wiggling in your seat as the flavors burst along your tongue. "It was a photo featuring the area of your body where your dick is at, so obviously, it was a dick pic!"

"Fuck off," he mumbles, shoving another spoonful into his mouth. "How was work? Anybody notice?"

"It was great," you say, "and nah, I don't think anyone noticed. I wore a scarf to hide the patch, y'know. Pretty good, huh?"

"You're a smart one," Katsuki says, and you preen under the praise. "You gonna wear a scarf the rest of the week, then?"

You shrug and wiggle your legs a little just to get Katsuki to clamp down on them with one strong arm. You flex your feet, feeling his thighs tense in turn, and eat another spoonful of dinner. "I don't think I can. It's supposed to get real hot this week and besides, I wanna… wear one of your shirts."

"Hah?" Katsuki nearly drops his spoon. "How're you gonna do that? It'll be too big for you, pipsqueak."

"I'll figure it out. I've done it before!" Your grin turns mischievous. "Want me to model for you after dinner?"

Katsuki shoots you a look. "You tryna get into my pants already, sweetheart? What happened to resisting pre-heat?"

"It's not like we'll be doing anything," you point out. "I have faith in you, babe."

Your boyfriend doesn't answer, but his hand tightens around your thigh, leaving indents in the soft give of your body. The two of you switch to safer topics, like the old ladies who ran into Katsuki on patrol (again) because they wanted to pass on their grandkids' sketches, and your new friends Akane and Shimizu who complimented your scarf. You do the dishes afterwards, but Katsuki stays glued to your back, thick arms wrapped firmly around your waist.

"I think you've got too much faith in me," Katsuki frowns, holding one of his button ups against your frame a bit later. You shed his hoodie and your shirt and bra, tossing them in the direction of the laundry basket and holding your arms out for him to dress you in his shirt. He eyes your chest openly, sending a spark of heat zipping down your spine, but slides the sleeves over your arms and helps you button it up without saying anything else.

His hands are careful as he slides the buttons home. You force yourself to breathe evenly as he crowds into your space, that smoky sweet scent filling your nose as he presses his lips to your temple and noses at your ear. His big hands with all their callouses and scars are gentle as he smooths the fabric over your shoulders, leaving a wave of warmth as he slides them around to your back to tug you closer into his embrace.

You hug him back, resting your palms against his shoulder blades and pressing into the skin there as he shifts. It's quiet as he breathes you in, his chest rising and falling against your own. Distantly you can hear trains rattling on the tracks, teenagers being rowdy in front of the nearby konbini, babies wailing for bedtime several doors down. You close your eyes and listen to Katsuki's heartbeat instead, though a furrow forms between your eyebrows as his heartbeat quickens.

"Are you… good?" you whisper.

"…'m fine."

"Okay… are you having a heart attack?"

"Don't be stupid," Katsuki snorts. "As if I'd get worked up over a lil' huggin'."

"Sure, sure," you grin up at him, smiling wider as his eyes soften at your expression. "It's not like I'm your mate or anything. It's fine if you get worked up, babe — I think you're pretty hot, too."

"Aren't you supposed to be figurin' out tomorrow's outfit?"

You detach yourself from him reluctantly, though he doesn't let you get very far, latching onto your wrist and padding along behind you as you go to peruse the closet. Katsuki pulls you into his chest again as you eye the various options. Despite favoring athletic, technical clothes — fabrics that are easy to move in at a moment's notice — he does own a wide range of clothing thanks to his various sponsorships.

"Does it ever bother you, wearing clothes with these brands associated with them?" you ask, rubbing a silky suit jacket sleeve and peering up at him.

"Nah," Katsuki shrugs. "My team's halfway decent 'bout choosin' who we partner with, so it's not a big deal."

"Should I be less sensitive about my company's branded sex toys?" Your voice is small. You turn back to the clothes so you don't have to look at him, but Katsuki presses a kiss to the back of your hair and huffs.

"If it bothers you, it bothers you," he says gruffly. "We're good, baby. You don't hafta tell your company squat. I'm still your mate no matter what."

You repeat Katsuki's words to yourself the next day, swathed in his button up shirt tucked into a pair of his trousers with the ankles rolled up, as Akane and Shimizu show you the storeroom where they keep the company branded sex toys. Everyone's email notifications had pinged this morning with the news that Kensuke in Accounting would be entering his heat soon, so your two new coworker besties had dragged you along on a mission to prepare his celebratory heat cycle package.

"Wow," you say blankly, "they really are branded."

Shimizu holds up a cock ring with your company's name emblazoned along the side. "When you're in the moment, you really don't notice the name, but I guess it is a little garish, huh?"

"It's just so… big," you say, pulling over another box. "Is the company worried we'll forget who we work for or something?"

"I think they just want to be supportive," Akane laughs, holding up a dildo that wobbles wildly in her hand. "We'll need to have our drinking party at the end of the week, I think. Kensuke-san said he'll bring his mate if it's late enough for her to make it. I guess her alpha senses get really sensitive when he's this close to heat."

"You'll come, won't you?" Shimizu asks you. She works in HR and it shows as she packs up a care basket with ease. "Most people don't bring their mates unless it's their own pre-heat party, but I'm sure everyone would love to meet yours!"

You wrinkle your nose before you can help it. The idea of alcohol and Katsuki and your coworkers sounds like a bad combination, especially when you're desperately trying to hide your own pre-heat symptoms from the company. "He doesn't really drink…"

"There'll be nonalcoholic drinks served too," Akane says. "My mate gets her panties all in a twist when I come home drunk."

"It's alright if you don't want to," Shimizu assures you. "We'll just meet him when it's time for your own pre-heat party!"

You freeze in the act of pulling out a package of anal beads where each bead seems to have one character of your company's name stamped on it, but luckily neither of them seem to notice. "Can you do me a favor, in the spirit of our new friendship?" you ask, "Could you guys please choose the toys with the least amount of branding?"

Akane and Shimizu laugh. "Aye, aye, boss!"

"We should just start prepping yours now," Akane says breezily. "That way we'll be ready when it hits you!"

"We can even give it to you early," Shimizu adds, "and I'll just mark it off in your file. You've got next week off, so maybe you can put it to good use ahead of time."

She winks and you laugh nervously, but thankfully they don't know you well enough yet to pick up on it. "That would be great, actually," you say, fidgeting with a packet of flavored lube. "I'm sure my boyfriend will love that."

There's a knock at the door as the three of you dig into boxes and sort misplaced toys into their proper shelves. Someone you vaguely recognize from the IT department pokes their head in and immediately zeroes in on you. "Ah, sorry to interrupt," they say sheepishly, glancing at the fuzzy handcuffs Shimizu is brandishing, "but it looks like your mate is here, and he says it's important."

You stare at them. "My… mate…?"

"Uh. Yes," they say, "Mr. Dynamight?"

What?

You wave goodbye to Akane and Shimizu and thank the IT person for the notice before speed-walking towards the entrance lobby of your building. The elevators always take too long, so you head for the stairs, even though it'll take you out towards the back end of the building. There's no reason for Katsuki to show up at your workplace, especially not when he should still be on patrol. He hasn't messaged you much today, either, but that's not unusual. Did something happen? Is he hurt?

Your heart is pounding so loudly in your ears that you nearly miss the gruff "whoa!" as a densely muscled arm suddenly swings out to snag you by the waist. You're lifted straight off your feet and shoved into a supply closet before you even have a chance to open your mouth and scream, but Katsuki is quick to slap a rough hand over your lips.

"Shh, it's just me, shit, sorry," he grunts, wincing as you bite his hand. "Fuck, your teeth are sharp."

"Katsuki!" You have the presence of mind to keep your voice low as you shout. He must have a reason for ambushing you in the back of your company building, so even if you don't know what's going on, you know better than to risk getting caught. "What are you doing here?"

The closet is dark, though light seeps through the bottom of the door he's shoved you against from the hallway he just caught you in. You can barely make out his deep red eyes with the lighting and his gauntlets and gloves resting on the shelf by his shoulder — everything else is cast in shadows. "I needed to see you."

"… huh?"

"I'm not losing, you got that? I'm just makin' up for yesterday."

"What're you talking ab— hey!" You back up into the door with a thunk as Katsuki leans forward, his thick arms caging you in on either side. "Bakugou Katsuki I swear on your All Might trading cards I'll knee you in the balls if you blow my cover here."

He snorts and ducks his head closer. You can feel the soft puffs of his laughter against your neck as you crane your face away, desperate to maintain the upper hand here even though his proximity is triggering something alarming between your thighs.

"Knew you'd look hot as fuck in my clothes," he mumbles, inhaling sharp along the soft skin of your neck. "You smell so fucking good, too."

"I used a strawberry lip balm today," you breathe, careful to stay pressed back against the door. Katsuki is close enough now that you can feel his chest rumble when he laughs.

He presses his lips to the hammering pulse beneath your jaw. "I'm not gonna blow your fuckin' cover," he says lowly. "I'm just gettin' a little taste."

And then he nips at your skin, mere centimeters away from your scent glands — and you moan.

Loudly.

Desperately.

Fuck him. You're sensitive this far into your pre-heat. Desire thrums through you like a plucked string and you lose your tenuous grasp on your self control. All you can think about is Katsuki, Katsuki, Katsuki as hormones flood your bloodstream and your subdued omega instincts rise to the surface, pheromone suppressor be damned. Your hands are in his hair before you've registered it, yanking him up to kiss you. It's a testament to Katsuki's iron will and his love for you that he lets you drag him into place, though he can't quite kiss you properly because he's smirking too hard. You bite at his lip in retaliation, but that only makes him groan low in his chest and the sound zips straight to your core.

You're so warm. Hot, even, flames of pleasure licking up your spine. You grab onto his shoulders and tremble as he shoves one hard, muscled thigh between your legs, flexing and pressing upwards until your weight rests firmly on top of him. "K-Katsuki…"

"What's the matter, baby?"

"This is so fucking unfair," you whine, tugging at him until he drags you forward by the hips. The friction is delicious and intense, even through your borrowed trousers and the thick fabric of his hero suit, and you can do nothing but hold on for your life as Katsuki guides you into riding his thigh. The easy way his biceps flex and his overwhelming strength turn your mind a little fuzzy. "Why'd you — why're you —"

"Couldn't stop thinkin' about you, brat," Katsuki grunts, pressing his face into the junction between your neck and shoulder. You bare your neck for him instinctively, presenting for him, but he tilts his face up to nip at your ear instead. "Wearin' my clothes and smellin' like me —"

"You're my mate," you gasp out, fisting his hair. "Don't I always smell a little like you?"

Katsuki laughs and stops dragging you along his thigh, shoulders shaking harder when you whimper in protest. You can feel the sharp wave of your impending orgasm recede with every rough chuckle exhaled against your skin. "You want me to keep goin'?"

"You started this, you asshole —"

"Beg for it, then."

Oh. Wait. "Fuck you," you hiss, shoving at him to let you down. He obeys easily, keeping his large hands on your waist to steady you. Desire is still humming hot in your veins, but the cold logic of your brain is working overtime to bring you back down. He's just trying to get you to lose, huh? "Did you come here just to rile me up? What's your problem?"

"Your pre-heat is gettin' to me," Katsuki says, nosing at your temple. Your already flushed body spikes with embarrassment at the tender gesture. "I didn't wanna leave you this mornin', and you were so fuckin' hot yesterday. You sure we can't just kickstart it early?"

"I thought you said you could resist me," you mumble, "what happened to that?"

"I am resistin' you."

You pull away slightly to shoot a pointed look at his body caging you against the door. You get an eyeful of his firm chest and those strong arms you love so much, which doesn't exactly help your predicament, but Katsuki just grins, sharp and beautiful even in the dim light of the closet.

"Baby, if it were up to me, I'd be balls deep in you right now," Katsuki says. Your toes curl in your shoes as you bite back a whine. "But we're tryin' to keep it a secret, yeah?"

This was a mistake. You know — you know your boyfriend has a competitive streak a mile wide, and there's no way he's going to let you walk away from calling him weak for you. Never mind that he's been behaving himself so far — letting you try on his clothes in front of him, sending dirty texts but not acting on any of them — now it seems like he's ready to fight back. Making dinner shirtless last night was definitely a small test for your own self control, but now he's breaking out the big guns by ambushing you at work.

"You're terrible," you breathe, and Katsuki just grins.

"Better get back to work, or your coworkers'll come lookin' for you."

As if your coworkers read his mind, behind you come the distinct sound of clattering footsteps going down the hall. You hear someone beyond the thin barrier of the door you're still pressed against. "Do you think Dynamight will give me his autograph?"

Katsuki meets your glare in the dim light and his grin shifts into a smirk, though his red eyes are unmistakably fond as he regards you. "I'll let you know when the coast is clear."

"You suck. You're evil. They should take away your Pro Hero license."

Your boyfriend laughs quietly and leans forward to brush his lips along your cheek. You tilt your face up into the smoky sweetness of him and manage to kiss the edge of his jaw as he pulls back. He hums with pleasure, but his smirk is still sharp as he eyes you. "Yeah, yeah. You're the one who poked the big bad alpha, you little shit."

Katsuki gets the two of you out of the supply closet and disappears before anyone in your company can corner him for an autograph. You spend a few minutes splashing water on your face in the bathroom, hurriedly trying to cool down as the lingering aftereffects of nearly getting marked race through your bloodstream. Once you deem your reflection (and raging hormones) passable, you head back upstairs and get back to work.

Or at least, you try to get back to work. The stacks of reports are less enticing to you now that you know Katsuki is really trying to get you to beg for him. It all makes sense to you now. The dirty texts and shirtless cooking were testing the waters — his way of seeing how affected you are by him, as if you haven't been mated for years at this point — and now he's ready to leverage your omega biology against you any way that he can. There's no rule saying you can't fuck during your pre-heat, but neither of you have tried thanks to the unspoken agreement that it would make this silly competition less fun.

But you really, really want to fuck him.

"Is everything alright?" Shimizu's voice snaps you out of your vivid fantasies and you blink at your reflection in the dark screen of your monitor. "Your computer's been asleep for ten minutes now. Is your mate okay?"

"O-oh, he's fine," you flush with embarrassment at getting caught slacking. "He just needed to give me something I forgot at home."

"Oh, was that all? That's so nice of him," Shimizu says. "Make sure you ask if he wants to come to the pre-heat drinking party for Kensuke-san."

"Is that really okay?" you ask. "It won't set anything off for Kensuke-san and his mate?"

"Nah. They're bound to be all over each other, anyway. We're all used to it — the drinking party is always more for everyone else to send them off with well wishes," Shimizu explains. "The company picks up the tab, too. It started out as a one-off, and we didn't think the company would keep doing it, but we're all in agreement that if the company is going to pay, then we're going to go out and play."

That… makes sense. Even in a company as supportive as this one, of course it doesn't erase the fact that you're all working under them. "Is that… what happened with the sex toys?"

"Yeah," Shimizu slides into the seat next to yours as she picks up on your interest. "At first, everyone thought it was super cringe and weird, right? Why would we want company branded toys? But it's free stuff, and even if we've got great benefits and paid time off and work isn't unbearable, it's still free stuff. Nobody passes up on the free stuff. We all need to work, so we might as well take advantage of everything the company is willing to give us!"

"And you said you don't really notice the branding…"

"I mean, honestly, you've gone through heats before, haven't you? Are you paying attention to anything besides your mate?"

You snort in agreement. "Back when Katsuki and I were figuring out our mating bond, he triggered my heat on accident and I climbed onto his lap in the middle of an izakaya. He had to help me through it in one of his friends' apartments because it was the closest he could get to a private space nearby."

The two of you ended up buying Denki a whole new mattress and bedding set to replace everything you irreparably messed up that week. His friends were gentle in their good natured ribbing, but you'd unfailingly blush any time you passed by that izakaya, and Katsuki couldn't eat there after patrols anymore without popping a boner.

"That sounds typical," Shimizu says, grinning. "I don't care about mates, myself, but I love hearing about the crazy shenanigans the bond ends up putting you through."

"Is that why there's a company-wide announcement anytime someone is about to enter their heat?" you ask. It's a little risky, bringing it up, but Shimizu is nice and clearly eager to chat on company time. "Most places just mark it as time off."

Shimizu twirls her hair around her finger as she hums in thought. "That started before I joined the company, but I think it's more like… public image? I heard it's the vice president who fully supports heats and likes buying all sorts of new toys for everyone to try out. And if we're celebrating it all so publicly, the president can't protest without looking bad!"

"That's… good," you say. You don't know what else to say to this — but thankfully Shimizu hops out of her seat and waves goodbye cheerily as a chattering group of coworkers enters the room. You try to refocus on your work, but not even a packet of chocolate dipped dried mangoes is enough to help you through more than a few reports.

Hearing about the company policies from a coworker's mouth and seeing everyone chatting excitedly about the end-of-the-week drinking party lifts your spirits. Like you told Katsuki originally, you know you'll get used to the idea of everyone knowing about your upcoming heat. It's just taken some time, and seeing how nobody treats Kensuke from Accounting any differently helps.

Now that you're feeling marginally more comfortable about the whole thing with your company, you feel like you can turn to the real task at hand: teasing your mate and winning this silly game of who can make the other beg for it first.

You skip your stop on the train ride home and hop off at the station closest to Ground Zero. Eijiro was delighted to conspire with you in sending Katsuki back to the agency a little early on his shift and the front desk receptionist lets you into the upper floors with a wide smile. If Katsuki can ambush you at work, it stands to reason that you should return the favor.

You slip into his private office and silently thank Mina for insisting on having strong frosted glass for the windows separating their offices from the cubicles of the sidekicks outside. Katsuki's office is plain overall — there's a large wooden desk with a cushy chair behind it, but otherwise it looks like a normal office space at first glance. As you walk around in it, however, you spot a few All Might collectibles, and there's an omamori hanging off of his desk lamp that you picked up for him at your first shrine visit of the year. He also has a polaroid photo of the two of you — his arm slung around your shoulders as you laughed, his free hand flipping off the camera — washi taped to the bottom of his monitor.

"The fuck're you doin' in here," Katsuki demands, striding into the room and shutting the door behind him with a slam. You jerk up in surprise. He got back a lot sooner than you expected.

"How'd you know I was here?" you ask curiously. Katsuki rolls his eyes as he begins dismantling his hero outfit, the loud clanking and clicking of his gauntlets filling the room as you walk over to help him.

"Smelled you from the station," he says. "As if I'd miss you tryin' to sneak in here."

You grin to yourself, somehow pleased that he sensed you even though he's ruined your chances of surprising him. "I just wanted to help you out," you say, trailing your hands up his arms. Katsuki raises one ash blonde eyebrow, clearly sensing your aim, but he lets you shove his hero mask up into his hair, exposing his forehead.

"Oh yeah?" His gauntlets hit the floor with a thunk and he rips off his gloves, tossing them aside as well. "Help me with what, brat?"

"Just, y'know," you bat your eyelashes up at him just to make him crack a sharp grin, "returning the favor from earlier today."

You kiss him first, a deep, melting kiss that makes your knees go a little weak even though you're the one initiating it. Katsuki's eyes narrow as you sink to your knees, but he doesn't stop you as you palm at his already hard erection through the fabric of his hero suit. "Oi, don't start something if you're not gonna finish it."

"I just want a little taste," you say, grinning as he glares down at you for throwing his words from earlier back at him. You hurry to unbutton and unzip his pants, dragging it down his hips and catching on his thick thighs as his cock springs free. He's leaking at the tip, pearly white and oozing, and he groans when you lick your lips at the sight.

"Fuckin'… don't stare at it."

You tsk. "So impatient." Katsuki threads his fingers through your hair gently as you lean forward to press your tongue against the slit, sliding his cock into your mouth with a wet suck. His hips jerk forward as he grunts, but his hand is endlessly gentle in your hair.

"Motherfu— oh, that's good," he pants, tipping his head back and exposing the strong lines of his throat as he groans. You hollow your cheeks and suck his cock down, settling into a familiar rhythm of bobbing on his dick, sliding your tongue along the underside and teasing at the slit as much as you can. You keep one hand on his thigh for balance and use the other to grab the rest of his length, squeezing in tandem with your bobbing. Wet, slick sounds fill the air as you choke and drool around his cock, and the way he throbs in the heat of your mouth sends a shiver down your spine.

"Sh-shit baby, yeah, just like t-that, fuck," Katsuki moans, his husky voice cracking a little on the words. He tips his head forward to watch the way his cock disappears down your throat, thumbing at your cheek and the tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. "You little — you little shit, you're gonna make me fuckin' come —"

You let go of his cock to cup at his balls, hanging heavy at the base of him, fondling them as you suck him deeper into your mouth. The strain on your throat makes you choke around him and he grunts, all of his muscles straining as he struggles not to blow his load. You choke on his cock a few more times, your omega senses singing in your veins with the thrill of pleasuring your mate, but as soon as you feel the telltale signs of his impending orgasm, you pull yourself off of him.

Katsuki nearly knocks you over. "You little — I'm gonna eat you alive you — fuck —"

You suckle at the tip of his cock, smiling up at him as he throbs concerningly in your loose grip. He huffs with the crash of his ruined orgasm and stares down at you in aggravated silence. "You want me to keep going?" you ask innocently, close enough that your lips get smeared with precum and saliva as you talk. Your voice is hoarse. "Just say the magic words, baby."

Your boyfriend seems to realize what you want a few seconds after you speak, as if it takes him a moment for his brain to comprehend full sentences. You peer up at him, blinking slowly, his cock mere centimeters from your lips as his face goes through approximately three different stages of grief.

"You're the worst," Katsuki grumbles, shoving you away and folding himself into a squat. You swipe at your face with the back of your hand, grimacing at the spit as you clean yourself up. He notices, because of course he does, and you watch with interest as Katsuki shoves himself upright to wobble to his desk. He tosses you a few tissues and pulls up his pants and boxers before crouching beside you to help you wipe your face. "The second your heat hits, I'm gonna fuck you so hard you won't be able to feel your legs, you brat."

You suppress a shiver at his words and scratch at your suppressant patch, hidden beneath the high collar of your borrowed shirt. "Don't threaten me with a good time."

Katsuki laughs, a short bark that makes you grin. "I hope you're ready, loser," he says, eyeing your lips. "C'mere and give me a kiss."

You wrinkle your nose. "I have dick breath."

"Like I give a shit, pipsqueak." Katsuki nips at your lip as you smile into the kiss, holding onto his shoulders for balance and sneakily smoothing your hands over the dense muscle there. "What're you smilin' about?"

"Just feeling you up."

"Hah?" He's so pretty when he blushes, pink rising high on his cheekbones and staining the tips of his ears red. You nuzzle into his strong neck, inhaling his comforting smoky sweet scent with a sigh of relief. You can feel your omega instincts settling as his scent envelops you properly. Katsuki seems to feel it, too, nudging into your hair and wrapping strong arms around you to keep you close.

After a moment, your legs start to cramp up from the awkward position, so the two of you clamber back up to your feet. Katsuki keeps a firm grip around your arm as you wiggle the feeling back into your toes, and you take advantage of his support to lean heavily against him. "Hey, Katsuki," you say, peering up at him sideways, "when did you steal my fruit themed washi tape?"

"I didn't steal it," he says. You arch an eyebrow. "I just borrowed it." You blink up at him. "Quit fuckin' starin'. It reminds me of you."

Oh. Your heart does a funny little flutter in your chest, which is a little ridiculous considering how long you've been together and the fact that he's literally your mate, but you let the feeling wash over you anyway and beam up at him. "I love you, too."

Katsuki's expression promptly freezes before he rolls his eyes, but his smile is soft. "Let's go already. It's gettin' late."

He holds your hand on the walk to the train station and acts as your wall against the crush of evening commuters. You're clingy — tugging on the sleeve of his hoodie, slipping your fingers through the belt loops of his pants — but Katsuki indulges you, clearly feeling the effects of your pre-heat just as much as you are.

Dinner is a comfortable, teasing affair. You bury your nose into the strong lines of his back as he cooks, pinching the skin of his stomach whenever he makes a snarky remark. He asks about your day and makes you laugh while recounting one of the old ladies on his patrol route who's taken to giving him pointers about how to make cuter bentos.

"You could learn a thing or two from her," you giggle, breathing in deeply.

"Watch it, brat, or I'm puttin' those rice penguins in jail."

The two of you refrain from riling each other up the rest of the night, sinking into the other aspects of your pre-heat instead. He watches with a wrinkled nose as you down a strawberry sando picked up from the konbini after dinner, but he lets you pat your night cream onto his skin and nuzzles your neck while you're tending to your own nightly skincare routine. Katsuki keeps a heavy arm around your shoulders as you tuck yourself into his side, throwing a leg over his thighs as he settles into bed with you.

This is your favorite part of the day — listening to the steady thump of his heart with his scent all around you, teasing him and feeling the low rumble of his voice as he snarks back, running the pads of your fingers over the scars crossing his chest idly and basking in the safety and security of Bakugou Katsuki being in your arms. It's always nice when you can fall asleep with him, when he isn't holed up in his office poring over mission reports or out on the streets taking down villains. You know he'll never say it out loud, but he always kisses you before leaving for patrol in the early mornings, always tucks the blankets back up to your chin to keep out the pre-dawn chill. He has spans of time where he's out more often than not working on taking down big missions, but he always comes back to you.

And with your heat approaching quickly, he starts pawning off his later patrols in order to pick you up from work. This is something like torture for you, personally, because he always smells so fucking good and looks so hot all rumpled and cozy in his post-work clothes. Katsuki makes a funny sound in the back of his throat when you greet him with a hug, slipping his hands a little lower than normal to squeeze your ass and smirking when you squeak and rip yourself away from him.

Luckily he's agreed to meet you a few blocks away from your company building, so you can escape before any of your coworkers notice the two of you. Katsuki gets handsy the closer you get to your heat, but he doesn't push it any further than blatant groping when you pass by him at home, so you retaliate by feeling him up whenever possible. You have no idea if blue balling him at work earlier in the week put the two of you in a stalemate, but you keep your guard up anyway and play by his unspoken rules to keep it to touching only.

It sucks, though.

Every touch makes you shiver; every graze of his lips makes you warm. You can feel the deep, intrinsic ache of your heat simmering just below the surface, the wellspring of desire thrumming through your veins. You're tense — Akane and Shimizu cajole you into fancy beverage breaks because they think you're stressing out too much about work — but your omega senses quiver like a roiling sea being brought to boil, only partially satiated by Katsuki's frequent touches and attention.

It all comes to a head at Kensuke's pre-heat party. Honestly, you should've begged off, but you didn't want to draw suspicion and everyone kept saying how they wanted to meet your mate. Kensuke himself brings along a Dynamight t-shirt in the hopes of a signature, which is just so cute you can't bring yourself to ditch the party.

"Congrats and good luck with your heat," you beam, toasting with Kensuke and his mate, a very pretty brunette who keeps her hand firmly around Kensuke's arm. She gives you a grin and a wink.

"Thanks," she says, "though we shouldn't need it. Ken-chan and I are old hats at this now."

"Your mate's scent is pretty strong, huh?" Kensuke says, tilting his nose up in spite of the grilled skewers being handed around. "It's almost like you're the one in pre-heat with how overpowering his scent is over yours."

"Haha," you swipe a skewer and pretend to be intensely interested in the slightly charred yakiniku. "You're probably just confusing my scent since you're in pre-heat, Kensuke-san!"

"Hm, I guess so," he says easily. His expression suddenly perks up, but you don't need to turn to see why. Every hair on your body raises as that comforting, overwhelming, smoky sweet scent washes over you. "Oh look! It's really Dynamight!"

Fuck.

You feel his red hot stare burrowing into you, and you know without a doubt that he's caught the way you've tensed up. You can feel your nipples perk against the silk fabric of your shirt, straining through your bra, and your panties get undeniably damp as his gaze drags along your form. You feel warm, warmer than you should be in this partially outdoor izakaya, and the air suddenly feels stifling, like you're swimming in smoke.

Katsuki's hand is heavy on your shoulder. You feel his touch like a brand, searing straight through your meager defenses, a spark that flickers as it drifts down to the well of your desire. You know — you know that once it catches, once it alights — you're both screwed.

"Hey, babe," you chirp, leaning into his arm as if your entire body isn't thrumming with want. "This is Kensuke-san and his mate! He brought one of your shirts — would you pretty please sign it?"

Katsuki's red eyes flash as he nods. To everyone else at the party, he probably looks normal. Just a regular Pro Hero alpha, strong and exuding power, all dense muscle and grace and skill, little sparks flying from his hands as he adds a tiny explosion smudge to the end of his signature on Kensuke's merch shirt. The guest of honor and his mate thank Katsuki profusely, and you take advantage of their distraction to slide away towards the bathrooms inside the izakaya proper.

This isn't good. You need to figure out how to get out without anyone noticing that Katsuki's been eye-fucking you since he got here, and then you need to bolt home so you can collapse into your heat in peace. One more touch from your mate and you'll probably drop right into it, but there's no way Katsuki will be able to keep his hands off you tonight.

You press yourself flat against the concrete wall in the hallway for the bathrooms, heart hammering in your chest. Forget worrying about your company's pre-heat shenanigans — you have a new fear unlocked: going into heat at a party full of coworkers.

"Whoa, hey!" Akane's a little louder than usual, a little wobblier on her feet. "The bathrooms are here, yeah?"

You manage to laugh, though there's a pitch of desperation in it that she thankfully doesn't notice. "Yup, they're right here! I just needed a breather. Hey, what happened to sticking to the nonalcoholic stuff?"

"Aw, yeah, I'm having those next," Akane flaps her hand at you breezily. "I'll sober up before I get home! Don't worry your pretty little head 'bout me! Hey, have I ever told you how nice your skin looks? Like, whoaaa."

This makes you giggle. "Do you need help in the bathroom?"

"Nope!" She shoots you a thumbs up. "See ya soon!"

You watch with amusement as she stumbles into the bathroom, but she doesn't hit anything on her way inside, so you lean back against the wall again and take a deep breath. You're aching — a deep, insistent pulse throbbing between your legs as a rich smoky caramel scent tickles at your instincts. Oh, shit.

You barely manage step away from the wall when suddenly Katsuki's there, looming big and broad and setting off every alarm bell ringing in your head. He eyes you with a flinty glare that's more black than red for a moment before he huffs and grabs your hand.

"Uh —"

"Zip it or I'll fuck you right here," Katsuki grits out. Oh, god. Your panties are sticking to your folds, tacky and damp, and you bite back a whimper as he pulls you along. His hand is warm around yours, and even though he's tugging you towards the back entrance of the izakaya, he never moves too quickly for you to keep up.

The two of you burst out into the back alleyway and Katsuki spares a quick glance around before he's on you.

He keeps a hand on the back of your head as he slams you into the dirty brick wall, shielding you even as he wrenches your waist towards him to grind his incriminatingly hard length against you. He kisses you like he wants to eat you alive, wiping out all coherent thought in your brain as your senses strain towards him. "You're gonna kill me," he grunts. You whimper into the kiss and clutch at his shoulders for dear life as he licks into your mouth, filthy and wet, swallowing down your pitched moans as he rocks his clothed cock against your center.

"What d'you want? Fingers or mouth?"

Your eyelashes flutter open in confusion. Your mind feels hazy, lost in the smoky sweetness of your mate, your focus entirely zeroed in on the throbbing of your pussy as Katsuki swears low beneath the clattering of the izakaya door opening.

"Wh— whoops!" the voice sounds familiar, but you can't quite place it. You blearily try to turn your head towards the sound, but Katsuki anchors you closer to him, covering you with his broad shoulders. "I was just — oh! You two should head home! I'll let everyone know you had an emergency!"

The roar of the crowds inside the izakaya rises in volume again before the door clangs shut. Katsuki picks you up before you can figure out what's happening, a strong hand tucking beneath your thighs as you cling to his neck. "Hold on tight."

"What're you— Katsuki, what the fuck!?" The loud, snapping, popping sound of explosions echo in the night before you're suddenly shooting straight into the sky, air rushing past you like you're flying. You tuck your face into his neck and swallow down an aborted scream, because, well — you are flying, propelled through the city skyline by Katsuki's explosive power.

Your boyfriend laughs. The shaking of his chest is familiar, at least, and you concentrate on that and the strong, sweet scent of his scent gland right beneath your lips. It would be downright disastrous for you to bite him now, while you're soaring through the city leaving fireworks in your wake, but you can't help kissing and sucking at the skin of his neck and shoulder as your body shivers with want.

There's a thud as he lands heavily and then a muttered curse before the tinkle of glass meeting concrete filters into your ears. You take a peek and catch sight of your apartment's balcony curtains fluttering in the wind, but the perspective is all wrong — why're you looking in as if you're —

"Katsuki," you pinch one of his strong shoulders, "did you just break into our apartment?"

"I'll get the glass replaced next week," Katsuki says, stepping inside and kicking off his boots. You're shivering, hot, feverish. He's warm, too — as usual — but sweat beads across his brow and you know you're close. "Bed, now. Or all our neighbors'll hear you screamin' my name."

Katsuki doesn't put you down. He carries you in a princess hold, the hand supporting your back smelling like smoke and soot, and he kicks the bedroom door shut with one socked foot. "Katsuki, Katsuki," he mocks, and suddenly you realize you've been chanting his name, fingers clenching tight to the hairs on the back of his head. "What d'you want, baby? Fingers or mouth?"

"I want you —"

His laugh is rough, a tortured sound spilling from his lips as he drops you on the bed and immediately kneels between your legs. Your breath catches in your throat as he slides your shoes off and tosses them aside. You lean up on your elbows to watch, wide eyed and breathless, as he trails his lips along the bare skin of your calf, hiking your skirt up with every beat of your heart. "I want you, too," he mutters, pupils blown wide with lust, his smirk pressing into your thigh. "But answer the question."

Your body thrums with anticipation. You can feel your heartbeat in your core like a siren song. "Katsuki, please —"

Katsuki snaps. A loud riiip tears through the air as he tosses aside the ruined fabric of your panties and then he's on you, his tongue licking dirty and insistent through your folds. You choke on a moan, hips canting into the air as pleasure sparks in your synapses, chasing the feeling as he eats you out like a man starved.

"Katsuki, Ka— nghh, Katsuki, please —"

Your boyfriend swirls his tongue around your clit and you nearly sob as you clench around nothing, your inner walls spasming with your near orgasm. Your thighs are tense, locked tight around his head. Katsuki doesn't seem to mind, lapping at your slick and groaning into your warmth, fingers digging into the fat of your thighs to hold you down.

Distantly you hear yourself whimpering and whining, but Katsuki continues to torture you, bringing you to the brink and pulling back as soon as you start to spasm. Somewhere in the depths of your mind you know there's a way to get him to — to fuck you properly —

You release the blanket you've been twisting in a death grip and scrabble for the pheromone patch on your neck. It takes a few tries as you pant helplessly, your fingers sliding off your sweaty skin, but as soon as your nail digs under the edge you rip it off and drown.

"Haah, fuck you —"

Katsuki rips himself away from your fluttering pussy with a groan and shoves his pants down awkwardly, the thick fabric catching on his thighs but low enough that his cock springs free. You whine at the sight, reaching for him, and he huffs out a laugh as he clambers over you. "You asked for it," he warns, but his voice cracks as the tip of his cock nudges against your wet folds.

"Oh, god, please please please. In," you grab at his arms and tilt your hips up, "Please get inside me."

"Fucking — hell —" Katsuki groans as he pushes inside, but his self control is at an all time low. He doesn't want to hurt you, but you're so wet and warm and your velvety walls are practically squeezing him in a vice grip.

He shoves every hard inch of his cock into you with a grunt, kissing you hard as you fall off the edge into bliss.

White. Sparks. It takes you a moment to come back to your senses, a moan punching through your chest as Katsuki pants into your neck. "Fuck."

"Yeah?" He rolls his hips and you whine at the sensation of being stuffed full of his cock, wiggling as best as you can beneath him. His skin is sweaty and sticky against yours, and you realize pulled his own shirt off. He's shoved your borrowed shirt up and off so that you're nearly naked, and out of the corner of your eye you spot your bra dangling from the doorknob where he tossed it away.

"Katsuki, c'mon, move," you plead. He digs his elbows into the mattress on either side of your head and rolls his hips again, dragging every rock solid inch of him against your insides. You clench around him, sparks skittering up your veins as he bullies his way back in, and then he's gone.

Katsuki fucks you into the mattress. You can barely string together a sentence, holding onto his arms as he shoves himself deep with every thrust. The overpowering scent of him fills the air along with the smell of sex and sweat and your choked off moans. You cling to him as best as you can, tilting your neck up as an offering as his thrusts get deeper and harder, crying out when he reaches to rest your legs on his shoulders, ankles dangling by his head as the changed angle lets his cock kiss a spot inside you that makes you sob.

"Oh, oh, Katsuki, fuck please I need you I want you please please please —"

"I — I got you," he grunts, "just fucking — hah you've gotta —"

"Oh I'm gonna cum, I'm — Katsuki I'm gonna cum!"

Katsuki growls as you leap off the edge again, pressing a strangely sweet kiss to your lips before leaning down further and licking along the side of your neck. You barely have a moment to register what he's doing before his body locks up and he bites you, marking you as his cock spurts and kicks inside you.

"Oh, fuck —"

The heady rush of pheromones sends you spinning dizzily higher, a pleasure so intense lighting up your nerves you nearly black out. Distantly you can still feel Katsuki cumming, thick ropes of white painting your insides as he rocks his hips in tiny, incessant motions against you. He lets go of your neck with a grunt. And then you feel it.

"Ah. Ah." The swell of his knot is thick and alarming, but you force yourself not to tense as he locks up with you. The overwhelming feeling sends your nerves buzzing and you tilt your head to kiss him, languid and sweet.

"How's it?" he asks, breaking the kiss just to press his sweaty forehead against yours. You meet his deep red eyes and brush a kiss along the pink swell of his cheekbones. "I didn't hurt you?"

"I'm fine," you sigh. Your heart is still thumping like a drum in your chest, but Katsuki is warm and solid and unyielding around and inside you. You're so full. You nuzzle into the neck of your mate. "You're lucky I'm so damn bendy."

The first knot is always the most lucid, the relief of sliding into heat lending clarity to both of your senses before dissolving into a messy, incoherent sex fest. By the end of the cycle you'll have lost track of how many times and how many ways Katsuki takes you — though you know he's fond of the shower and he used to like propping you up against the balcony doors…

"Did you really break the balcony door?" you ask suddenly, disrupting Katsuki's careful kiss to your jaw. Your boyfriend snorts, slowly sliding your legs off his shoulders and wincing lightly as his knot jostles inside you.

"If I had to go through the apartment I would've taken you in the goddamn elevator."

"Oh." You wince as his knot slips slightly. Another thought leaps unbidden to the front of your mind. "Who was that at the izakaya?"

Katsuki shrugs. "Some chick. The one you were helpin' to the bathroom."

Your brain still feels fuzzy with endorphins and the afterglow of white hot pleasure, so it takes you a moment longer to figure out who he's talking about. You groan. "Oh, no… not Akane…"

"She said she'd take care of it," Katsuki assures you, nosing along your neck. "And 'sides, that's not what you should be worried 'bout."

You raise an eyebrow. "Oh? And what's that?"

The grin Katsuki shoots you is shit-eating and terribly, annoyingly endearing.

"You begged for it first."

A few days later, while Katsuki heats up some premade food so neither of you die of malnutrition, you finally remember to turn on your phone. It pings! with notifications, but one flagged as "important" catches your eye.

Shimizu: Hey friend, hope your heat's going well! I've sent along your company care package to be delivered to your apartment, and once you get back we'll have a post heat drinking party for you! I also sent out your pre-heat company-wide congratulations email a few days ago, but don't worry, I'll send it out earlier next time so we can celebrate you properly!

Katsuki pokes his head into the bedroom at your loud groan, two plates piled high with food balancing on his strong forearms.

"What's the matter, pipsqueak?"

"Did we get a delivery?" you ask. Katsuki sets the plates down on the bed beside you and disappears for a moment, but then you hear a loud bark of laughter and he reappears with a large box. "Oh, no. Don't tell me…"

Katsuki reaches in and whips out a dildo with your company's name stamped along the base. "They found out?"

"I'm gonna die," you say. "I can never face any of them ever again."

"So dramatic," Katsuki snorts, setting the box down. He braces his hands on either side of your thighs as he leans down to kiss you. "Wanna see which one makes you beg hardest?"

"We are not using those toys, Katsuki!"

"We'll see how you feel when I've got you beggin' for me again."

#tw omegaverse #tw a/b/o #cw a/b/o #cw omegaverse #a/b/o dynamics #cw knotting #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #bnha x you #mha x reader #mha x you #bnha writing #mha writing #x reader #fuji writes fic #at long last! hope you enjoy!#lmk if i need to add any other warnings!

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luvyeni · 1 year ago

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MY SHY NEIGHBOR ( chapter. 20 )

— CHAPTER TWENTY: movie date pt.2 🎥🤍…

— 𖦹 warnings? 18+ CONTENT MDNI!!, making out, oral ( m. receiving ), language

previous chapter - next chapter - my shy neighbor masterlist

“I’ll be back in a minute.” He nodded, watching you take the bowls that your fruit was in, walking out of the room. He looked around the room, your dog resting on end — the tv playing your favorite movie.

It had been a good date — and it was going perfectly into the evening, he felt like he could just be himself around you, he didn’t feel the need to be shy or timid around you, but when he did, you didn’t tease him about it, you let him just be him.

His phone rang, knocking him out of his day dream, he looked at the call log, rolling his eyes answering it. “What do you want jisung?” He said.

“Yah, is that anyway to talk to your hyung like that.” The boy was about to curse his elder out when you entered the room. “Who you talking to?” you asked, picking up the dog, putting her on her bed. “Night sweet girl.” You turned back to him waiting for his answer.

“Oh, no one.” He said, jisung scoffed. “No one? I’ve known you since you had braces, don’t treat me like this.” Jeongin face turned red, cause even though he wasn’t on speaker, you could still hear due to the boys loud mouth. “You had braces?” you smiled. “You just keep getting cute.”

“Oh she heard me i’m sorry.” Jeongin scoffed. “No you aren’t, I hear you giggling, i’m hanging up.” He said. “Have fun! Use protection!” His eyes widened in horror — he seriously was just betrayed by his own friend.

“Use protection?” You smirked, “Were you expecting something tonight?” You teased, he stuttered trying to speak. “N-no I swear I wasn’t.” You laughed, he was going through the motions, you probably thought he was creep. “Innie, calm down.” The nickname made him stop in his tracks — he’d been called that numerous times, but it felt different being called that by you.

“I’m sorry.” He said, but before he could say anything, you climbed into his lap, straddling him. “stop apologizing.” You said, running your hands through his black locks, he closed his eyes to contain himself, but you were literally straddled him — not to mention your low cut tank top showed off your cleavage and he was fighting his own demons trying not to look.

“Look at me.” You pouted. “Please.” He made eye contact with you, his eyes traveling to your lips. He couldn’t hold back anymore — grabbing the side of your face, pulling you into a kiss, your lip’s colliding together. He groaned into the kiss, you smiled into the kiss as he took the lead.

Slow kissing — turned into a full blow make out, then to heavy petting — his hands resting on your lower waist, rubbing your sides, you sighed into the kiss, almost sounding like a whimper, jeongin felt his cock hardening in his pants.

You felt it, slowly moving your hips. He groaned into the kiss, you smirked grinding down harder. “o-oh fuck, we have to stop.” He pulled away. “Why?” You pouted. “Didn’t you like it?”

Of course he did, a little to fucking much. “Y-yes but.” He moaned as you moved your hips again. “Fuck, fuck I like it too much.” You smiled. “Then let me keep going.” You kissed his neck. “Y-you don’t have to.” He groaned, as you kissed up and down his neck. “I want to.”

He watched you get lower and lower, until you were sitting on your knees in between his legs, your ass was up in the air, as your face was closed to the bulge in his pants. “Can I take these off?” He nodded, you unbuckled his pants, he lifted his hips up, letting you pulled his pants down, taking them down, throwing them off the bed.

He sighed as you kissed him through his boxers. “Sh-shit.” You reached up, grabbing his waistband pulling his underwear down, sitting right below his hard cock.

He was big, a vein tracing all the way up to his mushroom tip — you just wanted to run your tongue along it, it made your mouth water. “Fuck you’re so big.” You grabbed the base, giving him a few kitty licks, before taking him into your mouth. “Oh fuck!”

You bobbed your head up and down, stroking what you couldn’t fit in your mouth. “Y-Your m-mouth feels g-good.” You hummed around his cock, taking the rest of him into your mouth.

Gathering your hair into a ponytail so that he see your face, you looked up at him through your lashes. “Fu-fuck you look so pretty, fuck i’m not gonna last.” He groaned.

You began to go faster, swirling you tongue along the vein. Jeongin felt his cock twitch, he was gonna cum. “I-i’m gonna cum.” He expected you to get off, but to his surprise you didn’t — instead you took him all the way once more, he moaned out, cumming.

His warm cum filling your throat, he threw his head back as his seed filled your mouth. “Fu-fuck.” You took his cock out of your mouth, wiping the access off your lips, pushing it back into your mouth.

His face was red, covered in sweat. “Th-thank you.” You sat on your knees as he tucked himself away. “I-I can…” he trailed off, but you shook your head. “it’s okay.” You said. “Y-you sure, I don’t think i’m that bad.” You laughed. “I don’t doubt you for a minute with those pretty lips.” He smiled shyly. “But i’m okay for now, i’m just really tired.”

“Do you want me to leave?” He questioned, you furrowed your eye brows at him. “Of course I don’t, I already told you I wanted you to stay.” You said. “Yeah, but like on the couch right?” You shook your head, rolling your eyes playfully.

“I literally just gave you head, no I don’t mean the couch.”

— ( taglist. CLOSED ) @soulsbbg @k-poplv @yourmomscuntis2tighy @bbokarimenu @enczen @queen-in-the-shadows @thesweetesttattoo @ririlinoriri @aloverga @ashiitex @ddazed-lhs @heartsforhyunjin @chlodavids @simp4myself @surefornext @lostwonderwall @xxr-s4sha @charmer-c @vixensss @frobin4ever @bmnyy @semi-semiisbae @m111nho @i2innie @aalexyuuuhm @iraa567 @cheshireshiya @ihrtlix @abbiestearsricochet @niaalove @skzswife @babrieeee @thisisnotjacinta @luvskai @ikeusol @costalmaine @whos-kkira @minhosprettywife @hey-hey-heybitch @jeongins-version @denisaandreea20 @lovesunshinefelix @222brainrot @thatgirlkay @ss3oung @number1jeonginstan @whitney190 @jongseongsluvr @chesemonky @worcesheshestershiresauce @puppy-minnie @prettygirlsstanskz @hanniemylovelyquokka

©LUVYENI

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coryosbaby · 2 years ago

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Ultraviolence - E.L & C.M

(Pt. 4)

Fandom: “Scream Vi”

Pairing: stepbrother! Ethan Landry x fem! Reader, Chad Meeks Martin x fem! Reader, Ethan Landry x Chad Meeks Martin

Warning: stepcest A/n: It’s finally here ‼️ I apologize for the wait yall 🤝(stepbrother x stepsister), threesome, double penetration, oral (f & m recieving), cum play, daddy kink, degradation/praise, switch! Reader, switch!Chad,dark! Ethan, dom! Ethan

A/n: It’s finally here ‼️ I apologize for the wait yall 🤝

You’ve been hanging out with Chad a lot recently.

It’s the first thing Ethan notices after the whole ‘fucking at a party” ordeal. And the second thing he notices, is that you have gotten really extroverted.

It’s been a few weeks, so the change makes it course over time. But you’re so much more different than before; where you once wore your little outfits with a shyness to you, you now strut around like you own the place. You speak more, present yourself more. You’ve also went to a few parties here and there. And honestly, Ethan can’t blame you for that. You’re beautiful and perfect, and why would he expect you not to think it yourself? And why wouldn’t he expect you, as a young woman, to go and make your own decisions?

It’s just that, Ethan hates change.

At the beginning, you were supposed to be his. His little secret, his little doll to play with and fuck. And now Chad has joined the mix, and it’s all different. It makes his head spin.

Your parents, Chad, and Ethan are at the kitchen table when you come barreling down the stairs. Its a hot day, like most of this summer, and your cheeks are red and flushed. You’ve been getting sunburn a lot more, it seems.

Chad has been staying over a lot more, too. Maybe partly to hang out with Ethan, but the doe eyed boy knows it’s more than that. Because the moment he’s left alone, Chad is somehow ending up next to you. His hand always rests on your knee, and you always tilt your head back and giggle at what he says. It’s ridiculous.

You smile brightly at Ethan, and move over to kiss Chad on the cheek.

“Goodmorning, guys!”

Ethan scowls at your affection, at your happy demeanor. He doesn’t like to be left out. but then you’re pressing a kiss to his cheek, too. That surprises him, and his eyebrows raise. Your parents don’t seem to notice, too wrapped up in the conversation about bills they’re having to care. And maybe you don’t seem to care, anymore. You aren’t as discreet, aren’t shy to touch Ethan or actually spend more time with him in front of your parents. Maybe it’s better this way.

Except for Chad.

“Goodmorning, bunny.” Chad’s eyes follow your form, and he smiles up at you. “You look pretty today.”

The fucking nickname.

Chad’s been calling you that since the night of the party, when he had went home with you and Ethan and tucked your body into your bed and kissed you goodnight. Ethan had stayed with you, after that, and held you until you went to sleep. Chad had thanked him, and Ethan can remember it all clearly now: the expanse of Chad’s jaw as he spoke, his hazel eyes looking at him in appreciation. He had had a nervous flush to his cheeks. Ironic, considering what they had just done. He had almost looked...cute.

Wait, what?

And this is what brings Ethan to immense confusion. He stares at the bowl of fruit loops in front of him, and contemplates what the fuck he just thought.

And then he looks over at Chad again, from across the table. He’s letting you sit in his lap, and he’s feeding you a piece of toast.

You both look good, today. You’re wearing a tiny pink crop top, and a little skirt hangs low around your hips, thigh highs and garter belt showing. Ethan notices that you’ve been wearing them a lot, recently. And Chad is wearing one of Ethan’s Coldplay tee shirts, one Ethan has seen him in a thousand times whenever he stays over.

But now, he notices, it fits him quite well.

He audibly groans, and loudly. You and Chad’s eyes go to him, eyebrows raised, and he tilts his head back and sighs.

“I’m going upstairs,” he grumbles. The chair makes a loud scraping sound as he gets out of it, and you cringe. You notice the way his hands are clenched at his sides as he walks up the stairs.

“What was that about?” Wayne asks. He’s clearly uninterested; his reading glasses are perched on his nose and he’s looking at the mail. You shrug. Sometimes you wonder if he even has a personality, honestly.

It’s later that night, and Chad is staying over again.

He’s asleep beside Ethan, and he’s snoring softly. Something he’s been doing since high school; Ethan’s bed is like his own.

And when Ethan’s eyes are resting against his pillow, he hears the door open.

He knows it’s you, can smell your strawberry perfume from a mile away. He turns over, and lifts his head up to look at you.

You nervously twiddle your fingers and whisper.

“I’m sorry I woke you up.”

He shakes his head, looking down at your pretty pink nightgown and your bare feet sliding across the hardwood floor.

“You didn’t. What’s wrong, angel?”

“I uhm—“ you hesitate, and Ethan notices the tears going down your face. He sits up immediately, careful not to wake Chad, and moves over to you and pushes you out of earshot. He holds your face in his hands.

“You can tell me.”

“I just had a n-nightmare, that’s all..”

He wipes your tears away and pulls you into a hug. He’s sweet, pressing kisses to your cheeks and holding you for a moment so you can rest.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks.

You hesitate, but then nod.

“We can go outside next to the pool, if you want,” Ethan suggests. And when you agree, he’s quietly pulling you down the stairs. When you open the sliding door to go outside the concrete is warm underneath your feet; it’s a hot summer night, but not hot enough to be excruciating. Just enough to bring comfort. You sit down beside the pool and let your bare feet rest in the water. Ethan sits down beside you, his fingers brushing against yours.

“What was your nightmare about?” He asks.

“We got caught.” You murmur. “In the dream, we got caught. And they wouldn’t- wouldn’t let me see you..”

Ethan frowns. He doesn’t like thinking about that fact.

“We won’t get caught, honey.” Ethan coos. “And even if we did.. nothing will stop me from being around you. Nothing.”

The way he says it makes you shiver. His tone is dark, and you can see the way his fists are clenched at his sides. And when he relaxes, he begins to speak.

“Can I ask you something?” He says.

“Of course.”

“Do you like Chad?” He already knows your answer. There’s no need to say it.

“…Do you?” You glance at him, and he shrugs.

“I don’t know,” he murmurs. “Maybe.”

You place your hand on his thigh, and softly draw circles into clothed skin. He sighs and begins to relax. His hand goes up to cup your cheek in his palm.

You hesitate when his lips almost touch yours.

“We shouldn’t. Not here.”

“Oh c’mon, baby…” his teeth nip at your earlobe, and that’s all it takes before he slips his fingers underneath your nightgown.

“Don’t you want to make your big brother proud?”

And after, after he’s inpaled you on his thick length beside that pool, after he’s filled you full of his cum, he carries you back into his room. Chad surfaces when he feels your body land next to his. His eyes crack open, and in the darkness of the room, he can smell your sweet scent.

“Y/n?” He questions groggily, and you let out a little giggle.

“Mhm.”

“C’mere.” His hands guide your head to his chest, and you curl up against him eagerly. Then the boys eyes furrow in confusion.

“Wait, where’s Eth?”

“Right here, man.” Ethan says from the other side of you.

“Oh shit, hey!” Chad says in surprise. He can be so dumb sometimes.

And then he’s clearing his throat and muttering.

“You can- you can move closer.. If you want to.”

Ethan ponders, and then he’s nodding as a smile is plastered onto his face.

“Sure.”

He curls his body up, cheek resting on you shoulder, and his hand goes to lay across Chad’s lower stomach. Chad, yawns, and grabs Ethan’s hand as he goes back to sleep again.

Ethan doesn’t really care that Chad is here anymore.

I mean, he’s his best friend, right? And best friends always share.

Even each other.

And that’s evident now as Ethan’s lips are attached to Chad’s with an imminent longing.

It’s the first time they’ve kissed; and although it should be awkward, it’s not. Things have just always flowed between them like that. It’s easy.

You giggle as Chad moves from Ethan’s mouth to yours, lips swollen and kiss bitten. He’s got his shirt off, Ethan with his pants unbuckled and hair mussed. It seems that deciding to go to Chad’s apartment was a good idea.

“I told you guys you should’ve kissed sooner. I knew there was something going on!” You say. Ethan rolls his eyes. He hates when you’re right.

“Yeah, yeah, princess.” Chad teases. “Why don’t you take that little top off and come suck me off, hm?”

“Why don’t you let Ethan do it?”

Chad lets out a breath, and his cheeks become ablazed as he sees the look Ethan gives him.

“You want that, Chad?” Ethan asks. The boy nods, pretty eyes incredibly dark from the intimacy of the whole situation. The fact that he has the most beautiful girl and boy in his bedsheets right now is making his brain fuzzy.

Ethan grins, big frame moving over to push Chad down onto the sheets below him. He huffs.

“Why do you always have to be so aggressive about everything?”

“Bite me.”

“Maybe.”

The thing about Chad is, with you he’s so used to being in control. But when it comes to Ethan, he really just wants to sit back and submit. He doesn’t really know why; maybe it’s the other boy’s cockiness that makes him seem so intimidating, something about his build and that grin he gives Chad whenever he tells him about one of his shitty hookups. He’s never felt this way about another guy, but he doesn’t hate it. And as Ethan pulls down Chad’s briefs and pulls the boy’s thighs over his own, he whines.

“Eth, c’mon.. I want you to use your mouth. Please?”

It’s the first time you’ve ever heard Chad beg. And honestly, it sounds like something you’d like to hear more often. You watch as Ethan grabs Chad’s hard length in his hand, the tip flushed and leaking precum.

“No. Don’t be greedy. Besides, we still have to make our bunny feel good, don’t we?”

Chad flushes, arm going up to cover his face.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, baby. Bunny, C’mere.”

You crawl on your hands and knees over to Chad. He smiles, going up to press a kiss to your lips.

“I’m gonna take my cock out, sweet girl. Think you can use your hands on me?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good girl.”

Your hands reach into Ethan’s pants and you pull him out. You sigh in content, lips wandering over his biceps as you stroke his cock. He groans, leaning back to kiss you again. Chad makes a noise of displeasure, and it gets Ethan’s attention. He chuckles, hands going to stroke his thighs.

“Do you need something?” He jokes.

Chad pouts. “I want a kiss, too.”

“Poor baby.”

And then Ethan is pulling Chad up. The boy whines, lips crashing against Ethan’s again. He smiles into the kiss. Your hand is still stroking him, only steadily, but begins to increase in speed as his tongue goes into Chad’s mouth. Ethan groans harshly, pulling away.

“Little minx. Come give Chad a kiss.”

You smile, leaning over to give him one. Chad’s eyelashes flutter shut at the feeling of your soft hands going up to stroke his hair.

“Good boy..” you whisper. Chad keens, forehead resting against yours.

“Am I really?”

“Of course you are. Now lay back down, okay?”

His body goes down onto the bed and Ethan pulls him back over his thighs again. You move to the end of the bed, near his head. Your fingers softly stroke his face. His eyes flutter shut, and his mind becomes engulfed in the many sensations. Ethan begins to stroke him again.

“Oh! God..”

The boy can’t keep still, his hips chasing that beautiful friction. Ethan spits down on him.

“Good fuckin’ boy. I bet you wanna cum so bad, don’t you?”

“Yes!.. c-can bunny ride my face? Please?”

The nickname and the fact that he’s still worried about your orgasm makes you smile.

“Yeah, baby. She can.” Ethan replies.

You remove your panties, Chad looking up at you with a dazed look and his face contorted in pleasure. Your wetness trickles down your thighs as you sit down on the boy’s face. His reaction is immediate; the moment your pussy is close to him, he grabs you by your ass and holds you down onto him. His tongue rubs your swollen clit with vigor, and you gasp. Chad loves eating pussy, but you’ve got to top all of the other ones he’s become familiar with. Your juices are perfect, bitter and sweet all at once, making his hips fuck into Ethan’s hands more. If he could just sit there and take your wetness down his throat for the rest of his life, he would.

“Look at that,” Ethan coos. “Both my babies look so precious. Does his tongue feel good on your little clit, sweet girl?”

You nod aggressively. Your hands are dripping your tits harshly as you bounce up and down on him. “Feels s’good, daddy.”

“Yeahhh, that’s my fuckin’ girl. Bet you want both those little holes used, don’t you? Want them dripping both our loads?”

The thought of it makes your eyes roll back, and Chad moans underneath you. You feel your orgasm nearing, tummy tightening.

“‘M gonna cum.. oh! God, pleasepleaseplease-“

“Yeah. Go on, cum on our boy’s face.”

And when you do, you’re tilting your head back and obeying Ethan’s orders, just like you always do.

The next day Ethan is bending you over the desk in his bedroom. He’s harsh, hips slapping your thighs in the most filthy way. The door lays wide open because no one is home. Ethan’s hands are wrapped around your throat. His grip is incredibly tight, and he pulls your body against his in an unnatural bent position. He’s fucking you, so careless, as if you’re nothing to him. And although that’s not the case, the incredibly large cock kissing your cervix seems to deem otherwise. Sounds leave your sweet mouth as he pounds your little cunt, whispering dirty praises.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight- love this pussy so much, fuck!” He groans, his cock twitching.

“I know s-sir, feels s’good…”

Your legs shake, body trembling, your sticky wetness coating Ethan’s cock, and he spreads you apart to watch your pussy be pummeled by him.

“God. Look at you, baby. Yeah, you’re my good little slut. So pretty..”

His hand reaches around and he begins to aggressively rub your clit. Your juices gush out and fall down your thighs, your orgasm drawing near. And with one last squeeze to Ethan’s gigantic length, you cum. He groans, and his hips are stuttering as he fills you up for the third time that week. The fact that you aren’t pregnant is beyond the both of you.

When Ethan pulls out, your body lays limp against the wooden desk. Drool is all over your chin and lips. You smile, dazed, and let out a small giggle.

Ethan smiles, bringing his hand down to stroke your back.

“You okay?”

“‘M perfect, E. Can you help me up, please?”

He does, ever the gentleman, and brings you over to his bed. You stumble a bit, due to the process of getting up too quick and because of your sore legs, but you manage. And when Ethan joins you on the bed, he’s pulling your body against his equally nude one. His softening cock rests softly against your hip, and he kisses your cheek.

“Go to sleep, sweet thing. I’ll clean up.”

You nod, eyes droopy, and drift off.

Ethan really did mean to clean up. But your hair smelled so nice, and he hadn’t got a lot of sleep the night before. So, he falls asleep against your back, his lips pressed against your shoulder blade.

You were both so content that you never heard the sound of the door opening and closing. The sound of your parent’s voices carrying throughout the house. And when Ethan’s dad decides to make a trip upstairs, when he walks past Ethan’s room, his booming voice makes you both jolt awake.

“What the hell is going on here?!”

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yinlikesbooksandtea · 8 months ago

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A green flag man - Nanami Kento

• Nanami Kento, the epitome of chivalry. Everyone wants him and if not they want to be him.

• The best boyfriend god could make.

• Carries your shopping bags, pays your meals, kneels down to talk to you if you're feeling unwell, buys you flowers on a random Tuesday just because, takes you out on lovely planned dates.

• Acts of services are his love language. Likes ironing your clothes with his. Makes you a sandwich as well when he makes his own. Knowing you'll ask for a bite and end up wanting more.

• Food is another one of his love language. Kento's actually a foodie so often times he makes you dishes and packs you lunch. Peels a little fruit platter for you when he realizes you haven't eaten enough fiber that day.

• Quality time is another love language of his that he never realizes. Cherishes when you're in his arms in the morning while you're asleep. A soft smile on his face while he presses gentle kisses on your cheeks and forehead.

• Instinctively open doors for you like second nature. Slows down his pace when you walk together. He puts his hand on the edges of the table so you don't hit your head when you pick up something.

• Likes holding your hand whenever you go anywhere together. It's either that or he has an arm around your waist.

• Likes taking pictures of you and he has a picture of the two of you as his wallpaper.

• Has an alarm set to wake up before he actually has to go to work so you two can cuddle in the morning.

• Even when you fight he has never raised his voice at you. Absolutely hates it when you two have arguments. Will never take his anger out on you.

• Anytime someone hits on him he firmly rejects them. Telling everyone he has a significant other. Will not even tolerate toying around the idea of another person in your relationship. Never even thinks of it.

Is he actually that much of a green flag?

• You'll never realize it but you slowly become spoiled by him. It's weird but when he's not here to open a jam jar for you. You'll pause for a moment before you realize you can open it yourself.

• Have you never realized how fast your relationship is progressing? You've only been dating him for 6 months and you've already moved in together.

• When you joke about it his eyebrows knit together for a moment before he changes the topic. Squeezing your hand gently and reminding you how long you've been friends before dating.

• He's always been intimidating. Even more so in bed, his rough hands on your hips while he's thrusting into you.

• The first time the two of you slept together. There was almost a crazed look on his face when he kissed your thighs. His eyes practically rolled back when he finally had a taste of you.

• Doesn't mean to hurt you but his grip is too tight that he can't help it. He actually really hates hurting you. Accidently getting too rough in bed and leaving bruises from how hard he pins you down. Sometimes bite marks leaving blood trailing down your skin.

• Kento's a jealous man. He doesn't say anything about it after all he doesn't want you to think he's insane. You have your own life and he has his but he can't help but want you near him all the time.

• Sometimes he can't but loathe your friends for hanging out with you the whole day and he's left only having dinner and cuddles with you.

• He absolutely despises when you drink with anyone besides him. He absolutely hates it if you even stay out late with anyone other then him. He can't tell which one he hates more. You getting drunk or getting drunk around other men.

• Even when you're just helping someone. He'll low-key be mad that you decided to help them. Especially if it's a man.

• Something a little funny he does is he sprays his cologne on your items to remind you of him when you go out with others.

• What he dislikes most is when he calls and you don't pick up the phone. He's a busy man and he wants to make sure your safe so he calls during your lunch breaks to check on you. Even if your phone died, he gets annoyed.

• Gifts you jewelry that has tracking devices on them. Afterwards he secretly installs a tracking device on your phone.

• He's not the type to yell when he's mad. He's the type to give silent treatment. It'll end up either with you sitting in his lap trying to butter him up or most likely you on his cock whimpering apologies.

• Sometimes he dislikes this part of himself. That he's so jealous and overprotective. He just wants you to himself all the time, it's unhealthy and he knows that.

• Kento always apologizes though, making you breakfast and holding you in his lap while you two watch tv and cuddle together.

• A little part of him gets turned on seeing the hickeys he leaves on you. He can't help but kiss them when he see's them.

• You'll never realize it but it's actually been month since you last saw your friends or even texted them in fact. Kento may or may not been deleting their numbers behind your back.

• Someone you don't talk to anymore? Goodbye. Old classmate you recently started texting again? Their number changed. Best friend wanting to hang? Oh no they suddenly hate you.

• When that happens you'll be running into Kento's arms and he'll be comforting you. Telling you how they weren't good for you anyways. After all your dear boyfriend knows best.

• You're parents won't suspect a single thing either if you haven't contacted them in a while. Kento's a responsible man after all. They'll probably think you're just busy.

• Often times has unhinged thoughts of replacing your birth control with vitamins so he can get you pregnant and marry you. Definitely has fantasy's have making you his little housewife.

• Might actually do it someday.

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

Hello everyone I am back! Also I am going to disappear and appear again in a few months. Anyways have a nice day :D

#yandere jujutsu kaisen #yinlikesbooksandtea #yandere #yandere nanami #yandere nanami kento #jjk nanami #kento nanami #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen

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appleblueberry-pie · 4 months ago

Note

Refusing worshipper yandere Levi because he’s kinda pathetic :( (love Levi as a character 🫶)

He’s just…. Not what we want in a man… in height at least.

you loved every single individual worshipper you had in your gigantic plot of land. your worshippers are beautiful, unique, smart and driven in ways you couldn't imagine. they were a simple small town when you first became ruler. yet, they proved themselves more than worthy when they continuously gifted you the best of their crops and constantly bathed you with care and love during every possible holiday that they celebrated.

they rebuilt their own town and even found a way to elevate your own living chambers, somehow finding a way to remodel your throne and entire palace. and you reminded them constantly how much you loved them. how they will thrive with more goods and crops when the seasons call for it and you will also provide them with whatever they need.

every day, your personal servants clean your estate, top to bottom. Occasionally dusting and washing with soap and water places you haven't touched in more than a week. All your steps are retraced with cleaners at the end of the day and you are always cleaned and well fed by the hands of your big-hearted servants. the men take care of big bulk-sized bags of crops being brought in from the fields as well as construction happening in town. men and women keep you company around the palace and feed, bathe, and entertain you.

there isn't a day that isn't as fulfilling as the last. you are thankful for them as much as they are for you. but recently, there has been a new man from town that got himself promoted to being you personal servant not too long ago. the only reason he was allowed in is your close-friend and servant recently died building construction, he fell off of a building. this man, Levi, says he will do all he can and more for you. you doubted him, considering the townsmen weren't ever going to be as devoted and loving your close servants were.

but he challenged the thought. you saw it as disrespect to those who put in the most effort for you, but allowed yourself to be open minded about his words.

Levi never let a single inch of the castle go uncleaned. you found it scary, unnerving, even. but he tells you it's one of his hobbies, so you let him be. when it's time to bring in the bags of crops for the season, you wordlessly watch as he walks twice the speed as the other men surrounding him, two bags on his shoulders instead of one.

you don't mention anything when he lectures the women on what to put into your bathwater when you're ready to settle for the night or get ready for the day. not when your skin feels this soft.

you don't mention anything when he gives you certain fruits when you bleed, hand feeding you quite sensually. but it can't be sensual, right? his thumb will brush your bottom lip occasionally, eyes sharp and staring directly you. but he's just a servant. a completely devoted, body mind and soul, ambitious servant for you.

you didn't plan to mention anything when you two were alone in your warm and shallow pool in the garden behind the palace. and he was in front of you while you rested in the water naked. you didn't plan to mention anything when he had the loose robe all of the men wore, hanging low on his hips and completely drenched as your foot rested on his muscular thigh, his hands working slowly into your foot with patience, care and love. a foot massage.

but your lips still separated to speak your question you've been wondering for a while. "what are you doing?"

he looks up from your relaxed foot, not stopping his hands once, staring up at you calmly. silence lingers between the both of you before he answers. "my job, my queen." your lip twitches slightly at his words, sighing lightly. "yes.....but why must you push yourself so hard?"

he grabs your foot by the ankle with both hands, lowering it slowly back into the water before grabbing the other one to set on his leg, starting the same way he did with the other one. smoothly and distracting. "to keep your eyes on me, my lord." he says no more than that, his face stone as he looks back down at your foot to focus on making you relax as much as possible.

you close your eyes, resting your head on the bed of grass behind you.

Levi looks back up to take in the image he's been blessed with. "you're not what i'd have in mind for who i'd want to be king of my land." you look back at him, to see him still staring at you. his hands still work diligently on every toe, every curve and muscle in your foot with obvious love pouring into his craft. like you didn't even say anything.

"i don't want to be king. i want to be yours. i want you to use me the way you choose and i'll still give you whatever you deserve in return." you roll your eyes and he softly stops massaging your foot, running his hand up your calf a little.

you're a little speechless. you've met a handful of obsessive devotees. but for some reason, he makes you reconsider a lot of things. he's special. and you don't know what to think of it. you don't want him, but it's hard to imagine the castle without him even though he's only been here for so long.

"Levi." he mutters your title in return. "please go tend to my chambers. im sure the others would appreciate your effort."

he was already on one knee in the shallow water halfway through your words. head bowed, he treats you with a goodbye before taking his leave. you're left to your own thoughts.

idk yall i like this one.

#yandere #yandere levi #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #yandere levi ackerman x reader #yandere levi ackerman #yandere levi x reader #yandere aot #aot x reader #yandere aot x reader #levi x reader

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lurinatftbn · 2 months ago

Note

Can you share a few Su fun facts in the spirit of this special day if you have some?

I missed the day, but here are some Su facts that I don't think have come up in the story!

Although her childhood friend Iwa is an theater fanatic who regularly dragged her into helping with her various projects, Su has only ever acted in a single play, a romance where she played the heroine's love rival. She was so terrible that Iwa spent the rest of their youth fretting about the possibility she'd ask to be in another production, and that they'd need to have an actual conversation about it.

Despite her professed love for mystery novels and horror, Su's favorite book is actually a dark YA-esque power fantasy called The Maggot Princess, about a girl from a poor family who gains bug-based magical powers and through a series of circuitous circumstances ends up killing every authority figure who has ever wronged her. (Obviously this is a sort of low-hanging-fruit reference to Worm, since I thought about Su's personality and background and thought the idea of her being a secret fanatic for a work like that would be absolutely hilarious, but I could never find a good place to put the joke.)

Her second favorite book, The Season of Excess, is a borderline-incomprehensible House of Leaves-esque cosmic horror story.

Despite having a piano in her room, Su has not played it in any serious way since an embarrassing incident in her childhood where she copied the theme song from an obscure drama, claimed to her mother it was her own composition, then refused to play it to some family friends out of fear one of them would know the truth.

Her favorite non-dessert foods are raw red meat dishes, like sashimi or steak tartare, but she doesn't have them often because they make her ill.

That's all I can think of for now. Happy birthday (?) Su.

#asks

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zoeykallus · 2 years ago

Note

Hey there! I wasn’t sure if you were still taking requests, but if you are I couldn’t help but send one. How about Hunter when he’s having sensory overload and the reader is trying to comfort him. Bonus if Hunter ends up confessing his crush on the reader at the end! Thanks so much and I hope you are having a great day ❤️

Aloha! Yes, I still take requests, and I'm still behind with them 😅 Sorry for the wait! Hope I can make up for it!

Hunter x Reader One-Shot - You Ease My Pain

Fluff/Comfort/Soft Stuff/Sensory Overload For Hunter

____________________

The boys had been on the road for a few days. This time you couldn't go with them and stayed behind. When the boys come back, they all seem tired, but Hunter in particular worries you.

His brow is furrowed, his eyes narrowed, and he keeps grabbing his forehead. Without saying much, he immediately disappears into the bathroom for a long time.

The shower runs for what seems like an eternity, as if he's trying to wash away not only dirt but stress. His brothers already know this phenomenon and keep some distance. But you worry.

As Hunter emerges from the shower, clad in fresh garments, already dressed in his sleeping clothes he says, "I don't want to hear or see anything for at least the next eight hours"

An approving low murmur goes around and Hunter retreats to the room he currently occupies in Cid's establishment.

Questioningly, you look at his brothers, in particular Tech, who senses you looking at him and looks up from his datapad.

"Can I help you?" he asks matter-of-factly, politely, adjusting his goggles.

"Is Hunter okay?"

Tech makes my deliberative hand gesture and says, "Yes and no."

You raise your eyebrows questioningly and Tech continues, "In the last few days we've been on planets and in places that were either very busy or very run down, we've been in constant activity with little sleep and, for someone like Hunter, exposed to a considerable amount of sensory overload. He probably has migraine-like headaches and generally feels drained"

"Oh," you say quietly, "The poor guy."

Wrecker says smiling, "It's not easy for him, but he'll recover, he always does. He just needs some rest"

When you are in your own room in the evening, the thought of Hunter suffering just won't leave you alone. You walk up and down the room, think for a while, and finally decide to go and see him.

You gently knock on his room door.

Hunter sounds annoyed as he calls out, "Come in."

When you go in, Hunter is lying on his bed in the semi-darkness, one arm over his face, eyes special, one leg hanging out of the bed, he is only partially covered and he still seems tense.

He hasn't seen who comes in, only heard the door open and growls, "I hope for your sake it's important."

Then you see his head move a little and he takes a deep breath. Suddenly, he pulls his arm away from his face and pulls his leg up onto the bed and covers himself properly. You realize that he recognized you by your smell, somehow that was creepy and exciting at the same time.

His words are reprimanding, but his expression and voice are soft as he says, "I thought I said I didn't want to be disturbed for the next eight hours."

You smile apologetically and say, "I know, I'm not here to disturb you either. I brought you some tea and some fruit, you need vitamins".

Hunter blinks in surprise.

"Thank you," he says quietly as you place the items on the small nightstand for him.

"You're welcome."

You dim the light a little more.

"Actually, you should be in the dark all the way, because of your headache" you say thoughtfully.

Hunter sighs softly and explains, "I can't. When I'm overstimulated like I am now, my sense of smell and hearing overreacts when I close my eyes, or it's too dark. And the other way around. I hear people talking outside on the street, I smell the unwashed Weequay downstairs in the bar…. It's hard to fall asleep and get to rest."

You carefully sit down on the edge of the bed, reach your hands out to his head, and gently ask, "May I?"

Again Hunter blinks in surprise, not sure what you have in mind, but he seems to trust you because he nods and says, "Uh, okay, sure."

Your fingers gently move to his temples and begin to gently massage them. Blinking, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

"That feels good. Can you do that for the next eight hours?"

You have to chuckle and say, "I'm happy to do this for as long as I can, I just don't know if I can last eight hours."

His eyes are still closed, but a smile spreads across his lips.

"I'm grateful for every minute," he finally says softly, "Besides, you're the only one I smell now, and that's by far my favorite scent"

You feel warmth creep up your face.

"I'm your favorite scent?"

Hunter's eyes open and widen, he looks a little startled, like he just realized what he said.

"Well, um, yeah, I guess you could say that."

He clears his throat, closes his eyes again and says softly, "Sorry, that probably comes across as creepy to you"

"No," you say softly, "I kind of like the idea. I've always wondered, since I've known how sharp your senses are, how you perceive me"

Hunter's eyes open again, and he looks directly at you, your fingers pause for a moment, you sense he is about to tell you something important.

"Your presence has always eased any suffering for me and attracted me magnetically".

You smile and lower your eyes shyly when you feel his hands on yours.

"Would you stay here for a while? I feel better when you are near me," he speaks softly.

You nod and reply just as quietly, "I'd love to."

Hunter slides to the side and makes a welcoming hand gesture. You kick off your shoes and lie down next to him. Almost automatically, your hands find each other and your fingers intertwine.

Hunter gently kisses your forehead.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

He asks with a smirk, "Shall we share the fruit?"

Returning the smirk, you say, "Sounds good to me."

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@allsystemsblue

@palliateclaws

@either-madness-or-brilliance

@ortizshinkaroff

@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

@extrahotpixels

@hated-by-me

@hunterxcrosshair

@malicemercy

@bebopsworld

@echos-girlfriend

@cpnt616

@dangraccoon

@starwarsnerd111

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tadpolesonalgae · 7 months ago

Text

Love Fool

Nesta x reader

a/n: This didn’t go in the direction I was expecting, but oh well

Day 2 for @nestaarcheronweek : Metamorphosis

Warnings: mention of sexual assault, Nesta having ptsd from the cauldron, kind of hurt/comfort?

word count: 3,955

Sharp, grey eyes cut across the tavern, picking her out with ease, adorned in a dress of such deep purple it almost appears as an inky blue, velvet warm and inviting as it wraps around her body. Golden clips hold her hair back, thin and golden chains of jewellery sitting around her wrists, hanging from her pointed ears, mouth painted in a shimmery purple and gold.

Horrific beauty that never fails to reel in her attention, luring Nesta’s eyes over no matter who else may be in the room.

She feels bewitched, her heart not her own, her pulse heating whenever the female enters her vision, lips parting to allow air into her lungs. A few times her nails have grazed the pale skin of her chest, assuring herself she is still breathing. That the life hasn’t been pulled from her body without her knowing.

Grey eyes return to her cards, swiftly growing bored of the game. Her drink has been empty for a while, and none of the males hold even a suggestion of the blissful pleasure she’s searching for tonight. The kind that will take her away from the strange tightness in her chest whenever the female manages to pull another glance form her.

The game concludes, but Nesta gives no sign of choice between the males, each in silent competition with the other for a chance to bed her. And yet as they try to initiate conversation, eager to prove themselves worthy, already Nesta can feel that phantom presence shifting through the tavern, fighting to keep from looking—to affirm what she already knows.

Warmth settles at her side as the female slides into the booth, the proximity closer than anyone else has dared risk with her, a distance shared between women, then men have no access to. At least, not without effort.

There’s an intangible shift over the table, the atmosphere changing with the presence of fresh fruit pressed so appetisingly to an already appealing meal. Tantalising and irresistible to any male with hot blood in his veins. Nesta doesn’t believe the female at her side is oblivious to the change she’s caused with a simple movement, believes it was intentional to a degree. Her thoughts are confirmed when one of the males attempts to bring the fluid-bodied female in, switching his approach to what appears to be an easier catch. Unaware of the honey trap.

Remark after remark slips from his lips, accumulating into the suggestion that’s doubtlessly on all their minds, the nature shared between them, fallible and easily redirected with the allure of a hunger being satisfied, greed sticky and oozing from their rough features. It isn’t the first time Nesta’s overheard a proposition like this, but it’s certainly the first she’s so directly been included in, the male making little effort to conceal the explicit fantasy he already drools over.

And while the female at Nesta’s side has no obvious reaction other than a suggestive smile, eyes twinkling with sultry implication, Nesta catches the slight wrinkle to her nose as she returns “I doubt you have the coin to pay for a show like that”, and puts an end to the conversation.

————

You watch as the males depart, understanding they are no longer welcome at the booth you’d commandeered.

Nesta’s empty glass twinkles in the low light, and you call someone over for a refill, enjoying how the liquid splashes in the hold, swirling around like a stormy sea until full. Instead of passing it to her however, you raise it to your own lips, drinking deeply to wash away the grubby looks the males had been trying to glue the two of you together with. Trying to wash away the foul taste in your mouth.

How Nesta finds the conviction to put herself through this each night is alarming to say the least. Her determination to punish herself is indeed remarkable, if not disturbing. But she makes no move to retrieve her glass, sitting alert at your side, cornered and confined to the darker parts of the booth.

The glass clinks on the table as you set it down, at last glancing to her, pinning her with your attention. Her grey eyes ice over, sharp and piercing as they search for a way in, to penetrate past your exterior. To find a soft spot to pry open with bladed words, jamming in the steel she holds within to fracture you, to push you away like every other person in her life.

“How was dinner last night?” You ask neutrally, the painted nails of your fingers grazing along the cold ridges of the glass, tracing the bumps and dips. “The usual,” she replies, quicksilver eyes darting between your own set at the amber liquid at the bottom of the glass. “Really?” You remark, with sarcastic surprise. “You know, that’s quite odd, because Mor tells me you haven’t been a single time in the last six months, so it really is quite impressive you’ve managed to elude her so thoroughly.”

Nesta’s lips purse, silver eyes glinting with something slightly other. “I didn’t realise it was any of your business—what I do in my personal life,” she replies coldly.

“It isn’t really. But you’re making it. You aren’t exactly subtle about your interests.” Her gaze shutters, a sure sign the comment had hit close to a nerve. “You can’t honestly tell me numbing yourself every night with sex and alcohol really works, Nesta,” you continue, speaking while you have her attention. “Whatever problem you’re running from won’t shrivel up and die if you leave it long enough. It’ll be waiting for your return.”

“You don’t know what you’re taking about,” she replies lowly, the edge of a snarl to her voice, and you flick your gaze over her, marking that while she makes no attempts to hide herself, a certain stiffness follows the sweep of your attention. Fighting to not shrink away. “I know grief when I see it,” you reply, taking another drink from her glass. Silvery eyes track your motions acutely, feeling their weight on your mouth as you take what she probably considers the last of her absolution.

The glass thunks upon the wooden table, a clear end to the conversation as you stand, gazing down at her. “It’s already been a long night,” you say idly, watching her from your higher position. “Retire with me. The dark can be dangerous, even in a city of starlight.” Her expression sours at the mention, resentment tucking itself between the slight dip of her brows, the subtle disgust shown in the crinkle around her pretty nose.

“Oh-so-powerful Rhysand can’t keep the streets tidy?” Nesta remarks, but it’s clear she’s trying to rile you. “Worry about yourself before speaking from the gutters,” you murmur softly, low enough fo no one to hear, vicious enough to put an end to her poisonous games. “I think you’re forgetting you’d be included in that cleanse,” you speak quietly, pausing, “at least, as you are.” Unless you change.

Nesta bristles, mercury swirling in her glacial eyes, glittering with something stinging and wrathful, before it’s smothered with self-destructive efficiency. But then she settles in her seat, pressing comfortably into the booth, gazing up at you. “And yet here you are, in these gutters too. A little hypercritical, don’t you think?”

“I will wander worse places if necessary.”

“How noble of you.”

You sigh, feeling fatigue beginning to weigh on you—a buildup of late nights spent keeping an eye on her, subtly, always finding your own company to make it less glaring. Shaking your head, you pin her with a cold look, one that thaws out against her own ice. “Aren’t you tired, Nesta?”

She’s quiet, features unmoving; unyielding. Growing colder, if possible.

“Come back with me,” you say, “start tonight, and by tomorrow you’ll have already taken the first step.”

But she allows herself no reprieve. No relief from the numbing poison.

Soaking in her nest of self-imposed sickness.

————

After that initial confrontation, Nesta only becomes more aware of her presence. How she shines in the middle of rooms, sending shockwaves of laughter crashing down upon her own dim and quiet corners, so raging and wrathful they’re an effort to withstand. To weather.

Night after night she appears, without fail, stalking Nesta’s steps relentlessly with a drive that has her own conviction both growing stronger; more impenetrable, and pausing. On the verge of collapse.

There have been more times in the past month the female has approached her, trying to lure her away from the blissful deadening of her mutinous senses. Usually it’s a subtle dismissal of whatever group Nesta has aligned herself with for the night, a quiet send-off that leaves Nesta with the choice of either integrating herself into a new setting, or to leave for her cold, smelly bed. Usually though, she forges onward, a creature of habit that persists relentlessly, rotting in the dark, grimy corner of whatever establishment she’s chosen.

Nesta worries about that pull, though.

Every step echoes through her mind, every word reverberating through the numbed halls of her memories the next day.

Then there are the rare moments the female will make her intervention more blatant, more difficult to ignore. Her tone sharper than usual, her proximity closer, as if trying to physically force her way through the barrier Nesta has spent years carefully engineering.

On the worst nights, deep in the darkness after at last returning home, having stubbornly protested against leaving, her thoughts wander. Wonder what would happen if she allowed herself to be swept away. Wonder at the tension that warms in her chest with the female’s presence. And in the darkest, most liminal hours, in the utter silence of her small apartment, she sometimes wonders what it would be like to leave with her.

But leaving…going with her…

She would have to return here eventually, and she doesn’t want to crumble.

————

You’re sipping on your drink, leaning against the wall of the tavern facing the street, when you hear a snarl louder than the others, loud enough to reach you despite the carefully thought out distance.

A male growl follows quickly, starving and angry, hissing with aggression, and your skin prickles with awareness. Attention sliding toward the alley Nesta had disappeared into a while ago.

Something thuds on the floor, like a barrel being pushed over, and the sounds of commotion follow, echoing off the brick walls. You turn into the alley, magic swelling at your fingertips, warming your skin as you pull it to the surface.

Nesta steadies herself, trying to dig her nails into the male’s face as he forces himself closer. Your blood pounds around your ears, picking up to a debilitating roar as muscle seizes, fury so cutting you’re nearly swept away in the current. But then your hand settles over his shoulder, and he’s vanished away, displaced to somewhere else. Somewhere you know he’ll be treated well.

Fear-dilated pupils meet your gaze, and you can hear her heart thundering against her ribs, the ragged huffs of breath as her chest rises up and down, the front ties of her dress disturbed, revealing more of her cleavage than usual, and that roar returns to your ears, fighting to calm yourself, to be steady for her.

“Are you okay?” You ask flatly, knowing what will happen if you allow a slip of emotion out. Nesta pants deeply, gaze flickering between you and where the male had been, eyes shuttering, pupils shifting and contracting with fear as she swallows. Then manages to nod.

Your lips purse, fury beginning to abate. Refocusing on the female before you. “You’ll probably stay in shock for a little,” you say quietly, keeping your voice even. “You might start to shake in a bit. Maybe a little nauseous too, but you’ll be okay. You’re safe now.”

Nesta swallows thickly, your attention marking the roll of her throat acutely, noticing the bite on her shoulder, your eyes lingering a little longer than is wise, emotion stirring in your chest. But again you push past it, inclining your chin a little. “Let’s get you back.”

Silver eyes dart about the alley before settling on you, assessing warily. But then she dips her head, pushing up from the wall, hands raising to the roughly tugged-free ties of her dress.

“I’m going to winnow us,” you tell her, keeping your statement clear and steady, speaking so she can process what you mean. She nods her head. “Okay.” Her voice is thick and slightly raw from panic, but mostly together.

Your hand encompasses her own, and darkness wraps around you, icy and startling as wind howls in the background before you’re delivered to the door of your own house, silently bringing her up the steps and guiding her inside. You take your time removing your outer layers, untying your shoes to give her time to process, before copying your actions, remaining quiet. Likely still in shock.

“Why are we here?” She asks at last, a shard of ice creeping back into her slightly shaky voice, “this isn’t my home.”

“It isn’t,” you reply calmly, turning to face her where she’s removing her shoes. It’s a good sign, at least.

But then she stands straighter, raising her gaze to yours, blank and unreadable. “I want you to take me back,” she states, “to my house.”

The two of you watch each other, wills pushing against one another, holding their ground.

“You’ve been through a lot,” you say at last, a touch quieter. “You should stay here for the night.” Nesta manages a shake of her head, slowly walling herself off. “Take me back to my house,” she says firmly, and you glare at her, hard.

When you don’t answer, she turns, making for the door, and panic jumps in your chest, making to reach for her before forcefully tugging yourself back. “Nesta,” you call sharply, having her stop, and you catch the tightness of her shoulders, the slight flinch of her body at the tone. But when she turns to face you, her features are cold and unreadable as ice, already withdrawn and harsh.

You gaze at her silently, brow furrowing a little. “Stay here,” you ask quietly, “just for tonight.”

Her eyes narrow a fraction, and you sense she’s about to speak.

“Please,” you murmur, watching her. “Please, Nesta. One night.”

Her icy gaze shutters, lips tightening.

But, “fine,” she mutters, turning away from the door.

Staying the night.

————

“You can stay here,” you say, guiding her into the room adjacent to your own, a guest bedroom for people you’re more acquainted with. “There are clothes in the wardrobe over there, and a bathing room just through that door. You are the only one with access to it, so you’re more than welcome to use it.”

Nesta steps in behind you, entering the clean space, taking it in with clinical scrutiny as se analyses and examines each trunk, the wallpaper, the ceiling and windows, the rugs over the hardwood floor. “Is that everything?” She asks, turning to you.

“Do you need anything else?” You reply, leaning your back against the for frame, legs crossing at the ankles.

Her nose wrinkles, but instead of irritation rising up at the action, relief again cools your spine. She seems to already be returning to normal.

“I’ll manage,” she responds, a clear dismissal.

One you don’t follow, watching her a little longer.

Then you nod, glad she’s at least accepting help. “Okay.”

————

You’re pulled awake, something tugging in your lower stomach, an urge to see her, to find her, to make sure she’s okay after the night.

But she’s probably asleep by now, so you don’t go. Judging by the colour of the sky, it’s been a few hours since she came back. She probably wouldn’t appreciate you checking in on her, either.

So despite the tension, the prickling of your skin, you abstain from checking on her.

Yet it seems like you’re being drawn to her room. Especially when a crackling shockwave passes through your lower body, skin tingling like water that’s been struck by lightening, oil frying in a pan, and you’re swiftly heading for the door, not bothering to even grab a night robe as you cross the hall for her chambers.

“Nesta?” You call, knocking, listening for noise. Another wave sizzles through you, and something thuds from behind the wood. You try for the handle, but she’s used the latch on the other side, locking herself away, and you knock again, louder. “Nesta, can you hear me?” You call, for the most part succeeding in keeping the panic from your voice, remaining calm.

Your sharp ears pick out a low, muffled groan, and your pulse spikes, winnowing inside.

“Nesta?” You call gently, scanning her borrowed chambers, eagle-eyes picking out how the bathroom door is ajar. You make for it swiftly, carefully opening it up as you again look around the room.

She’s hunched over the latrine, the floor wet, an empty bucket tipped over and on its side, the tap to the bath dripping as if hurriedly shut off.

She groans again, and you move forward, nimble fingers slipping beneath the burnished gold of her hair, pulling it gently from her face as she heaves, body convulsing as she retches, knuckles turning white as she grips the seat, muscles shaking. Your brows narrow in concern—nausea might have been expected, but not regurgitation.

Slowly, quietly, you crouch beside her, one hand holding up her hair, the other soothingly stroking down her back—gentle but firm motions, applied to calm and soothe. The trembling begins to fade, and she groans again, spitting out the foul taste, moving to wipe her lips on the back of her palm. You grab some of the roll, pulling away two sheets and offering them to her. Shaky fingers brush against yours, and she dries her mouth on the roll, getting the corners clean.

“Feeling better now?” You ask, releasing her unbound hair, soothing her shoulder. She tries to shrug you away, moving to sit upright, but her muscles give out, falling back against you. In the same moment you discard the roll, supporting her as she collapses, limbs too weak to hold herself up. She struggles, trying to move, but you wrap your arms more securely around her. “On three, okay?” You ask clearly, knowing how she’ll flare up if you allow even a tinge of concern into your voice. “One. Two. Three.”

The two of you manage to stand, stood close together, and another shudder passes through her. You increase your hold, making sure she won’t fall, keeping her nearby. “Careful of the water,” you murmur, helping to guide her out of the bathroom on her unsteady feet, aware of her light grip on you, nearly falling away with every step.

You sit her in one of the comfortable armchairs in the room, feeling as she gives a sharp breath, another shudder passing through, wracking her chest. Her arms make to wrap around herself, but they’re too weak, too tired, so she ends up placing them in her lap, leaning to one side of the seat.

You move, getting the faelights to turn on, then making for the bathroom. You refill the bucket, vanishing the water with half a thought, before taking a washcloth with you, returning to her.

“Have enough energy to clean?” You ask, setting the bucket down before moving to the wardrobe, retrieving a fresh nightgown for her to change into. You can smell the cold sweat on her.

She makes no move to change into the clothing you’ve given her, or even to grip them. Simply remains to one side of the chair, watching them vacantly. “Nesta?” You call, a touch quieter, moving to be at her side, wary of touching her.

Her silver eyes are rimmed with red, nose tipped in a similar colour, the tops of her cheeks and her upper lip gleaming faintly as you realise she’d been crying. The shudders the result of trying to keep quiet. Your shoulders slope, and you move slowly as you settle your hand over hers, letting her see the movement and choose whether to allow it. You squeeze her hand lightly, watching her silently.

“You’re safe, Nesta,” you say quietly from her side. “Nothing’s going to happen to you here.”

Her thin brows narrow, lips cutting down in the corner as her eyes take on a new gleam, looking wet.

“Where did he go?” She asks, voice raw and faint. Scratchy sounding.

Your lips press into a flat line, looking away briefly before returning to hers.

“Azriel knows what to do with people I send his way,” you answer quietly, marking the thick roll of her throat.

“He won’t be finding you again.”

You wait for some sort of reaction. For her skin to whiten, for a fresh wave of sickness to rise up her throat. But she just swallows, dipping her head in a slight nod, eyes moving to the clothing. “Will you help me?”

You nearly miss a breath, but manage to nod, still watching her. “I—… Yes. Yes, of course.” You turn, reaching for the washcloth, but she makes a noise in her throat, having you look at her, unable to conceal your concern. “I don’t…” she struggles, pupils dilating as she glances toward the pool of water, fear tinging her scent. “I can’t manage bodies of water,” she manages quietly, not meeting your eyes. “They remind me of the Cauldron.”

Your lips part on a silent breath, but then you nod, memorising the small piece of information. You should have realised. It looked like she’d been trying with the bucket before…maybe that’s what caused her stomach to upturn itself. That and the intense events of the night.

“Right,” you manage thickly, getting to your feet. “Do you…” You trail off, suddenly unsure in yourself. She swallows again, “can you just…just sit on the bed. While I change,” she mumbles.

Nodding, you move to the bed, sitting with your back to her. You aren’t foolish enough to offer aid with undressing her. She needs the reminder of her own autonomy right now, to known she can do things on her own.

The material rasps, and you’re unable to help the way your ears pick out the noises, assigning actions to each of them. Pale palms pushing her hair out of the way, trembling fingers undoing silky buttons, clammy hands pushing soft but now-dampened fabric away.

“Okay,” she manages, some strength back in her voice. You turn on the bed, seeing her stood the other side, dressed in fresh new clothes, crisp and clean, unbound hair cascading over her shoulders, down her front.

Nesta moves to take the bucket back to the bathroom, but you shake your head, standing. “Just settle into bed for now,” you say, already moving, “it’ll be morning soon, anyway. You should get as much rest as you can.” You think she might protest at first, but she nods after a pause, moving to the bed, pulling back the sheets and laying down.

When you return from the washroom, she’s tucked under the duvet, hair bundled beneath her head like a halo to prevent lying on it during the night.

You turn the faelight off, opening the locked door to let yourself out, pausing on the threshold. “I’ll see you in the morning, Nesta.”

She doesn’t make a sound, but you can clearly see her open eyes watching you from the dark.

“Call if you need anything,” you murmur, stepping away, bringing the door to a close.

“Sleep well.”

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