#you know what. this one should live in the drafts for a little while to consider whether it's a good idea actually.
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
outeremissary · 11 months ago
Text
The reproductive horror/breeding kink aspects of DUrge still absolutely floor me. One of the most guys of all time.
3 notes · View notes
feyburner · 4 months ago
Text
I ??? woke up at 3am with this scene fully written in my mind palace and quickly jotted it down in the Notes app
*
Clark’s shaking his head before he realizes he’s doing it, and feels a twinge of embarrassment at his own bad manners when Bruce stops mid-word to look at him, brows raised.
“No?” he says.
“No,” Clark says, again without thinking, and again with the reflexive urge to apologize. Somewhere his mother is tutting without knowing why. But he doesn’t apologize, because he’s already saying, “No, it can’t—it can’t be that.”
“Okay,” Bruce says slowly. “Can you elaborate?”
He is, honestly, having trouble taking his eyes off the screen. The mockup design of his new suit is there, dark and sleek, ridged like tactical gear. The blue is like the last shade of evening before you can’t call it evening anymore, the color of nine PM in Kansas in July, so exact there’s a strong chance Bruce color-picked it from a photo. The yellow accents are the cool fluorescent yellow-green of lightning bugs. The red is dark as arterial blood. Every aspect of the suit has been updated—the colors deeper, the angles sharper, the S extending to the corners of its frame—but Bruce has done it without changing the fundamentals. It’s immediately recognizable as the Superman suit, just… well, a little cooler, maybe. A little more of the times. Even the tailoring is modernized. The neckline. The shape of the boots. Where the belt hits at the waist. Clark can tell just by looking that Bruce has not only spent a lot of time on this in general, he’s spent a lot of time designing it specifically with Clark in mind, Clark’s needs and preferences and the small discomforts of his current suit, things he might have mentioned offhand after a mission but never with the assumption that Bruce was listening or filing it away. No doubt the next slides of this presentation will detail all the hidden features of the new suit, and they’ll all be incredibly thoughtful if not slightly overkill, and Bruce will pretend his sole motive here was practicality and risk reduction and respond to any thanks with a curt nod.
And Clark wants to thank him. He will. It’s just.
“It can’t be… cool,” he says, inane. Bruce is watching him with that steady look that used to feel clinical, piercing, and now mostly reads as attentive. “It can’t be—like yours. Tactical, military-grade.”
“Lightyears beyond, actually.”
“It has to—Ma said once, a kid should be able to draw it with crayons. You know? I can’t look like a weapon. I have to—I want to look like a friend.”
He can feel himself flushing. It’s rare that he speaks like this, and rarer still that he does so while being stared at intently. Bruce may think of himself as the darkness, but his gaze is a spotlight: unwavering and revealing and more a little sweat-inducing, for one reason or another.
“Sometimes, when I show up, people laugh,” Clark says. “If it’s somewhere out of the way, where they haven’t seen me before. I show up and I look like a festival performer. It’ll be the worst day of their lives, and they’ve got no reason to trust my face, but when they see what I’m wearing—it goes from ‘Who are you?’ to ‘Who is this guy?’ And that’s a good thing.”
“Hard to be afraid of a man dressed in primary colors,” Bruce says, almost to himself.
“Exactly.”
“I see. Thank you,” he says, “for explaining.”
Clark tries not to show how surprised he is to hear that. Judging by the crook of Bruce’s mouth, his success is negligible. “Of course. Sorry I didn’t—I mean, thank you, obviously, for going to such trouble. I didn’t mean to come in here and—I really do appreciate it, I can tell you put a lot of work in—”
Bruce’s eyes cut away. “No. No need. I didn’t ask, before I…. It was only a first draft. If you’re amenable, I’ll incorporate your feedback into the second one.”
“Oh! Yeah. Yes, of course, but you really don’t have to—”
“If you have any further notes, I would like to hear them.”
There’s something determined in the lines of his face. Clark has the sense that this moment is important, that it’s a turning point, even if he’s not sure why. It feels like striking out into a sea of ice, a blank white expanse under which something precious and vital is hidden, has been hidden all along, just waiting for him to find it. To want to.
“Sure,” he says. He looks back at the suit and swallows, and knows Bruce will see the flicker of his throat and take some meaning from it, and wishes he knew what the meaning was. Or maybe Bruce won’t notice or read into it at all. Maybe Clark needs to calm down, in fact. “Um. I don’t want to assume, but does it… do things?”
“It does things,” Bruce confirms, after the barest pause. “Let me show you the next slide.”
5K notes · View notes
racefortheironthrone · 2 years ago
Note
Hi- er, this is my first-ever writer's strike, how does one not cross a picket line in this context? I know how not to do it with things like Amazon and IRL strikes, but how does it apply to media/streaming?
Hi, this is a great question, because it allows me to write about the difference between honoring a picket line and a boycott. (This is reminding me of the labor history podcast project that's lain fallow in my drafts folder for some time now...) In its simplest formulation, the difference between a picket line and a boycott is that a picket line targets an employer at the point of production (which involves us as workers), whereas a boycott targets an employer at the point of consumption (which involves us as consumers).
So in the case of the WGA strike, this means that at any company that is being struck by the WGA - I've seen Netflix, Amazon, Apple, Disney, Warner Brothers Discovery, NBC, Paramount, and Sony mentioned, but there may be more (check the WGA website and social media for a comprehensive list) - you do not cross a picket line, whether physical or virtual. This means you do not take a meeting with them, even if its a pre-existing project, you do not take phone calls or texts or emails or Slacks from their executives, you do not pitch them on a spec script you've written, and most of all you do not answer any job application.
Because if this strike is like any strike since the dawn of time, you will see the employers put out ads for short-term contracts that will be very lucrative, generally above union scale - because what they're paying for in addition to your labor is you breaking the picket line and damaging the strike - to anyone willing to scab against their fellow workers. GIven that one of the main issues of the WGA are the proliferation of short-term "mini rooms" whereby employers are hiring teams of writers to work overtime for a very short period, to the point where they can only really do the basics (a series outline, some "broken stories," and some scripts) and then have the showrunner redo everything on their lonesome, while not paying writers long-term pay and benefits, I would imagine we're going to see a lot of scab contracts being offered for these mini rooms.
But for most of us, unless we're actively working as writers in Hollywood, most of that isn't going to be particularly relevant to our day-to-day working lives. If you're not a professional or aspiring Hollywood writer, the important thing to remember honoring the picket line doesn't mean the same thing as a boycott. WGA West hasn't called on anyone to stop going to the movies or watching tv/streaming or to cancel their streaming subscriptions or anything like that. If and when that happens, WGA will go to some lengths to publicize that ask - and you should absolutely honor it if you can - so there will be little in the way of ambiguity as to what's going on.
That being said, one of the things that has happened in the past in other strikes is that well-intentioned people get it into their heads to essentially declare wildcat (i.e, unofficial and unsanctioned) boycotts. This kind of stuff comes from a good place, someone wanting to do more to support the cause and wanting to avoid morally contaminating themselves by associating with a struck company, but it can have negative effects on the workers and their unions. Wildcat boycotts can harm workers by reducing back-end pay and benefits they get from shows if that stuff is tied to the show's performance, and wildcat boycotts can hurt unions by damaging negotiations with employers that may or may not be going on.
The important thing to remember with all of this is that the strike is about them, not us. Part of being a good ally is remembering to let the workers' voices be heard first and prioritizing being a good listener and following their lead, rather than prioritizing our feelings.
28K notes · View notes
knightjpg · 7 months ago
Text
Brick by Brick
And like a dog who's learned a new trick Simon rings your bell the next day. Wasn't happy with how he left it, and wasn't that faucet leaking? He's got plenty of spare wood in his shed, don't you worry. What's that about the boiler making a weird noise? He'll take a look at it, might have something for the draft in the hallway too. Pay him? What are you talking about, he does stuff like this for fun. Don't sweat it, love. Just hand him that wrench.
tags: construction worker simon/neighbour reader
part 1 | part 2
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Summer is the worst time of year for construction work outside. Up early before the birds are awake to try and beat the heat, arriving on site at six or earlier with bleary eyes and creaky joints from the day before. It means coming home at four or five with lots of day left to get through yet without the will or energy to do anything beside shower, eat, watch some telly, and sleep. 
The pay is good and it beats sitting in a cramped office all day, but when Simon gets home with aching knees and the thrum of a headache at the back of his skull it's hard to remember why on Earth he chose the career he's in. He's drenched in sweat, large dark patches adorning his pits and back. 
It's one of those days where very little can make him stray from his commute straight to home to collapse into his big falling-apart chair, but today it's not really up to him. A large moving truck blocks his driveway. The faded company logo against dirty white overtakes the entire view of his windshield, though Simon can see the back doors are still swung open. No one to attend to it, though. 
Simon noticed the FOR SALE! sign had gone, of course. Remembers feeling vaguely pleased, even, that the home next to his wouldn't be empty anymore, because he of all people knows exactly how quickly places can fall apart without anyone tending to it. But right now all he feels is tired, and hot, and really fucking annoyed. Just when he's clicked his belt loose to get out of the car and see if the dolt belonging to the truck is anywhere to be found, voices carry from the open front door. 
“...last. I'm afraid it's a little heavy, though, so maybe we should get the boxes out first?” 
And out steps the sweetest little thing he's ever seen. Hair tied up, tight little top, and shorts that give him ample view of your legs.  
Maybe summer's not so bad after all. 
You're talking to a bloke wearing a uniform that matches the moving truck and who looks flushed in the face from exertion. As soon as you clock Simon's car, though, you stop mid-sentence in surprise, and then quickly walk to him, brows furrowed apologetically. 
“Oh, I'm so sorry—you're trying to get past us, aren't you?” Simon gives you a nod, and you turn back to the mover. “Would you mind moving the truck up a little? I don't want it to be in the way.” 
There's precious little parking space ahead, so Simon rolls down his window and calls out to you, “Jus’ backing up a few yards s’fine.” He gestures to his driveway so you know that's where he's headed, and you flash him a smile and a thumbs-up in understanding. 
The truck is moved, Simon parks his car, and you pull another heavy-looking box from the cube. You never reach your new doorstep with it; Simon steps in and lifts it from your hands. You blink up at him, lashes fluttering sweetly with surprise. “Oh—are you sure? It's heavy...!” 
One corner of Simon's mouth tugs up. Tired as he is it weighs next to nothing, and he can't resist holding it with one arm, holding out the other. 
“Can take ‘nother if you need.” 
You laugh and assure him this is quite enough, then jog back to the truck while Simon pushes past the half-open door to his new neighbour's home. 
It's a mess, of course. Piles of boxes, scattered furniture, rolled-up carpets. Simon puts the box down in the living room, then saunters back outside to lift another from your hands. He does the same with the couch; the mover is struggling and Simon doesn't trust him not to let it fall and crash. And you're such a little thing. Just doesn't feel right, watching you rush around and struggle without stepping in. 
With Simon's help it's quick work. The mover thanks Simon before driving off, but he's not really listening. There's much more important things to pay attention to. 
You're pretty. Cheeks flushed from exertion, breathing hard, flyaway hairs from your ponytail sticking up in odd directions. Simon has to suppress the urge to smooth them away. 
"Thanks so much for the help,” you tell him earnestly. “I'm sorry we were in the way—we thought we'd have a little more time before people started coming home from work.” 
“S’alright,” Simon says. It's nearing evening, now, the sky above you glowing in pale pink and oranges hues. The little smatter of trees across from you rustles with a gust of summer wind.  
You introduce yourself and insist on giving Simon your number “in case there's ever anything you need.” Simon's more concerned about a young woman living all on her own but takes your number all the same, watching your pretty little fingers tap it in on his phone. 
“I mostly work from home, but I'm very quiet and boring,” you tell him with a smile. “You don't have to worry about noise.” 
For some reason that isn't the selling point it should be. When Simon stands inside his hallway, house empty and dark and quiet, he wishes he still lived in a shitty apartment with thin walls on the bad side of Manchester. Maybe then he'd hear your footsteps, or better yet, your voice. Instead the only thing waiting for him at home is silence. Heavy and thick, where he's ripped away from sweet sunshine and plunged underwater. 
-
Simon is halfway to falling asleep on the couch when the bell rings. He groans, drags a hand over his face, and glances up at the TV. The football match is still going. The camera pans over a cheering crowd, their cries distant and quiet. 
He mutes the thing entirely and heaves himself up to open the door. Swear to God, if this is the fucking salesman again... 
“Hi there.” 
You give Simon a little finger wave, your other hand cradling a round oven dish. When you shift on your feet the protective foil on top rustles noisily. 
You look a little more put together than you did yesterday—rested, showered, fed. Just as pretty. 
Although, speaking of fed... 
“Alright?” Simon asks, eyes on the oven pan. He's only catching a faint whiff of something, but whatever it is smells really fucking good. His stomach reminds him that the only thing in his fridge are a couple cans of beer.  
You nod and lift the dish with a shy little grin. “Yeah. Um. I wanted to say thanks again, for yesterday. And I wanted to test out my oven, so...” 
You hold the dish out for him to take. Simon's fingers brush yours, large meaty paws easily twice the size of your own. When he peels back the foil you add, “Shepherd's pie. I thought about cookies, but I wasn't sure if you'd like those.” 
The scent hits him, then, rich and hearty and buttery smooth. The dish is still a little warm. 
Fuck. When was the last time he ate something homemade? 
“No, I'll eat anything,” he says, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious. He hasn't showered yet. Must look a nightmare. Does he stink? “Thanks.” 
Your whole face lights up, and Simon's neck feels hot. He averts his eyes to avoid your gaze and pretends to inspect the pie instead. Jesus, what is he, twelve? “I'm glad. I'll leave you to it, then.” 
D’you want to come in for a drink?  
It's on the tip of his tongue, but he can't get the words out quite right and gives you a brusque nod, watching you walk back to your own home before closing his door all the way. 
He eats at his kitchen table and finishes the whole thing in one go. Chases bits of flakey crust with his finger, licks up every leftover crumb. The meat is tender and juicy and for a while after the only things he smells is golden-brown potatoes seasoned with rosemary. 
He mourns it when it's gone, of course. Has half a mind to go over right now and ask if your cooking is for hire—Simon can't remember the last time he felt satisfied. When he ate not just for the sake of fuel or convenience but because someone wanted him to have something nice, something special. Is it special? Is he special? Are you going around the neighbourhood handing out cookies and pies to just anyone? 
Simon's sigh is loud in the silence and sticks to the kitchen walls. 
The pre-made frozen meals are fine, of course. Empty plastic containers fill up the rubbish bin. They're easy and cheap and most days Simon's glad just to have something warm in his stomach.  
And yet. 
The next day Simon stands at your door at six in the evening sharp, holding the clean dish in his hands. You invite him in for a cup of tea, because unlike him you have good manners, and you sheepishly apologise for the stacks of boxes everywhere. 
“S’alright,” Simon says, carefully manoeuvring around a large pile of books. “I don't mind.” 
And he doesn't, though he does feel like a bull in a china shop. Large and much too coarse for the little tea cup you hand him while the kettle whistles on the stove. 
“I'm afraid I don't have much to go with it,” you say with a flutter of your hands. “Do you like ginger snaps? I think I've got a pack somewhere.” 
You don't wait for his answer and pry open one of the cupboards. First come the ginger snaps, then the box of Earl Grey, which you hold up to him with a triumphant smile. “Unpacked the important stuff first.” 
Simon frowns and jerks his chin to the cupboard. “S’it stuck?” 
“Oh—yeah. They all are.” You give the wood a little knock. “It'll take me some time to get to fixing everything. The house went for a good price, but only ‘cause it needs some love.” You give him a rueful smile and get up, wiping your hands on your thighs. “I'm not all that handy, so I'll have to take it bit by bit.” 
Simon rises before you finish your sentence. "Let me see.” 
“Oh, no, it's okay. It's not a big deal, really—” 
Simon crouches down, slowly, to spare his knees, and tests the hinges. The wood is rotten in certain places, the hinges old and rusted. Rather than fixing it up it should be replaced entirely. You really better had gotten this place for good money, because this will take more than a bit of elbow grease to repair. He prods at the hinges, tuts, and looks up at you. 
“Ready to fall apart, this one. You said they're all like this?” 
You nod, worry creasing your brow. “I—yes. Well, the kitchen is. The bathroom seems alright. Is it worse than I thought?” 
“Might be. You have anyone look at this?” 
You shake your head. “I'm starting to feel silly about it now, but I was going to look up how to do it myself.” 
Simon straightens. “I'll go get my kit.” 
-
It's not as bad as he feared. Two cabinets need tearing down completely, but the others are worth saving. Simon warns you the repair job will fuck the wood, but you tell him it's no problem; you'll paint over it anyway. 
You feed him tea and ginger snaps while he works, asking him several times if he wouldn't like a break, hasn't he done a lot already? You feel terrible about having him work on his day off. Didn't he say he worked construction? He must be so tired, poor man. You insist he stay for dinner. “You've been so helpful—it's the least I could do.” 
Simon takes a breather to watch you cook. Chicken, pasta, summer salad. The sun sinks lower and hits you straight on from the kitchen window, painting the edges of you a dazed red-gold. An angel's halo. 
“You big on reading, then?” 
You turn down the heat and put a lid over the pan to join him at the table. Simon's eyeing the many books strewn about on top of boxes that say “pans” and “kitchen supplies”. Le Morte D’Arthur. Histories of the Kings of Britain. Beowulf. There's even one that prompts a vague, long-forgotten memory from his school days— The Canterbury Tales.  
“I am. Always have been.” You nod to the books. “I teach at university—medieval literature. But I'm working on my own research on the side.” 
Simon lets out a low whistle. His pretty bird is a clever one. Smarter than him, that's for sure. He might be big and strong but he's got bricks for brains. 
That's what his dad always used to say, anyway—that he's stupid. Those always were his kinder moments. 
“That explains all the books y’got.” 
“There sure are a lot of them, aren't there? I swear moving really makes you realise just how much stuff you own...” You shake your head. “I'll have to get a bigger bookcase.” 
“Think it's impressive.” 
Your eyes crinkle with a smile. “Not as impressive as knowing how to fix my cabinets! I don't know how I would've managed by myself.” You hop up from your seat to check the food, then ask over your shoulder, “Is that something you do a lot for work, too? Carpentry and the like?” 
Simon shakes his head. “We do the heavy lifting. Clearing a place out, laying the foundation. Johnny—my coworker, he's mostly on machinery. Kyle does transport and plumbing. I do the heavier handiwork.” 
You hum and start plating the food while asking him more questions. Is the pay good? Is his boss fair? Are his coworkers nice? 
Price's fairly strict is what he is, Simon answers, and you laugh again. He likes that. Likes that he gets you to do that. 
He wolfs down a plate of his pasta and devours the chicken. It's fragrant, roasted with lemon and thyme, bursts between his teeth. He tells you more about Johnny, that he's a cocky bastard who likes playing with electricity way too much, but that he's also a loyal friend. That he's a hard worker—that all of them are. 
When his plate is empty and he's eyeing what's left in the pans you push them closer without saying anything, and prompt him to tell you about that time a plumbing line exploded and Kyle got soaked from tip to toe in disgusting gunk. He smelt like sewage water for weeks. 
Simon doesn't even realise how much he's talked until his throat starts feeling rougher than usual. You make it easy somehow. If he'd thought you would look down on him because of your own job he needn't have worried. You're not at all like what he imagines when he thinks of professors, none of the stuffy superiority complex he's used to weathering when people find out all he does all day is chafe his fingers on hard cement.  
Maybe you're just good at faking it, but he doubts it. The sparkle in your eyes when you listen to him so intently has to be real. 
You send him home with a warm thanks and dessert, and Simon feels something in his chest lurch when you peer up at him through your lashes in the doorway, smiling and sweet. Can't remember the last time he went out for dates. Can't remember having the time or energy for it. 
And like a dog who's learned a new trick Simon rings your bell the next day. Wasn't happy with how he left it, and wasn't that faucet leaking? He's got plenty of spare wood in his shed, don't you worry. What's that about the boiler making a weird noise? He'll take a look at it, might have something for the draft in the hallway too. 
Pay him? What are you talking about, he does stuff like this for fun. Don't sweat it, love. Just hand him that wrench. 
There are days when it's hard, of course. Simon is only human, and spending days and days on sizzling hard concrete would wring anyone dry. The project is coming along nicely, but at the height of summer there's plenty of times when even the promise of your smile isn't enough to keep him from falling asleep on his couch—often on an empty stomach. 
But during the weekends he rings your bell dutifully. Six o’clock becomes something sacred in his mind, sweet relief after praying on his knees for hours smoothing out cement. It gets to the point where he turns down Friday drinks with the guys more than once because he's got something to go home for now, his pretty little bird that's never once mentioned a boyfriend of any kind. 
“You really should let me pay you.” 
Simon gives you a look before pushing his large shoulders further into the cabinet under the bathroom sink. “Should be the one payin’ you. I know I'm doubling your grocery bill.” 
He eats more at your place than his own these days. It gives him incentive to rush through a shower, dress like something resembling a human, then wait at your doorstep to be let in. Wagging tail and everything. 
Your cheeks darken and you duck your head. “No, um... It makes me happy. To see you eat my cooking, I mean,” you confess a little shyly. “I feel like I'm the one getting everything out of this. I hope I'm not keeping you from—from spending time at home, or with your family.” 
“S’just me, love.” Simon pauses, pretends to inspect the pipes. “Less you don't want me coming ‘round anymore.” 
“No, no,” you say hastily. “No, I like—I like the company. Really.” Your voice softens. “And I'm not just saying that because I appreciate the help.” 
Simon exhales, shifts a little to accommodate the strain in his boxers, and holds his hand out for the screwdriver. 
2K notes · View notes
cashmoneyyysstuff · 5 months ago
Note
can you PLEASEEEE do something with the idea of reader stealing/wearing katsukis clothes?? you’re the only one who i think will fully do this idea justice xx
pure fluff, reader is a thief, reader likes the way katsuki smells, roughhousing lol kinda ?? katsuki sorta tackles you, katsuki is a meanie, tickling, no pronouns mentioned in this one I don’t think ! lemme know if i missed sum else !!
a/n : hey so this has been sittin in my drafts for literal decades omg IM SO SORRY🙁🙁🙁🙁ALSO BTW TYSM FOR THINKIN I COULD DO UR ASK JUSTICE I WAS SO FLATTERED WHEN I READ THIS I WAS GIGGLING N SHIT🤭🤭i was always so excited for this ask but I literally never got around to doing it after my break n stuff, im slowly (and that’s suuuuper slowly im so sorry yall i suck) getting to all of your asks one at a time and im so grateful yall r still givin me the time of day honestly , so please be patient with me🤧💗💗💍 ! But anway enough dumping ! Anon if you’re still sticking around, i truly hope u enjoy this ! And ofc all of yall too ! much luv xxx!!
Tumblr media
"you fuckin' thief.."
shit. you thought he'd be gone for longer.
lately, you’d been routinely sneaking into katsuki’s dorm room and nabbing some of his clothes. sweaters, hoodies, t-shirts : as long as they were in your reach, you’d grab them.
it's not your fault, really ! katsuki's clothes are so cosy and warm and they smell just like him. plus, they're perfect to snuggle in when he's busy, how could you not borrow them for a little while ?!
..except you can admit that you’ve been stalling..and a lot of his clothes were still in your room, but you still planned on giving them back..soon !
and you can’t even pretend, because you’re wearing on of his hoodies that had been missing for a good week now.
"katsuki, baby." you slowly lean away from his clothes drawer, your hand ready to snag a black hoodie of his slowly trailing towards the floor "i can explain."
"all my damn sweaters, my fuckin' hoodies. they all just vanished without a trace.." he starts, slowly stalking over to you. you squeak, slowing getting on your knees to prepare yourself should you have to break his ankles and sprint out of the room. he's fuming, eyebrows twitching "thought i was goin' crazy.."
"and all this time.."
"suki.." you try, voice wobbly as your knees shake with each step closer he gets.
"it's been fucking YOU ?!"
and he pounces.
with a squeal, you scramble and dash away just as he leaps for you and narrowly misses, he's got you cornered as you're on opossite sides of his bed while you beg for mercy and he keeps yelling at you to 'come here'. in a panick you grab one of his pillows and fling it at him.
it feels like the pillow slides down his face in slow motion to reveal a look so vile a demon appearing in front of you right now would scare you less
“you’re. so. dead.”
there’s really nowhere else for you to go. you’re truly cornered, you might as well just be buried right now. you think about the leftovers waiting for you in the fridge and how sero still hadn’t returned the manga he’d leant from you, but you’ve lived a pretty good life.
before your body can decide to move, katsuki leaps over to you tackling you and having you land straight onto his bed with a loud shriek.
frantically, you wave your hands around “wait, wait pleasepleasepleasepleasepleas-” but your begs of mercy are cut off when katsuki jams a finger into your side, causing you to yelp. he hovers over you with a mean smirk. and you know what’s coming.
“katsu—”
you don’t even get to finish before he jams his hands into your sides and mercilessly tickles you.
from an outsiders point of view? this is harmless. but your boyfriend is mean and the biggest asshole in the world because he knows all of your weak spots and the places he knows will have you shaking and gasping for breath. it felt like actually torture, really.
“thought you could get away with it, huh ?” he sneers, leaning down a bit more so he’s eye level with you “thought you could keep taking my shit and i’d just neeever find out, hm ? yeah ?”
“b-but i—ah ! didn’t—!” you gasp and squeal, choking on the sentences you can’t manage to push out of your throat as your eyes squeeze closed. you don’t have to see his face to know he’s enjoying this.
“you’re a fuckin’ thief.” he spits, backing up from you so you don’t headbutt him square in the nose from your thrashing. you’re response is nothing but a harsh gasp and he smirks wider.
you think he’s finally, finally taken pity on you when his fingers slow to a stop, but he glares down at you, hands still on either sides of you “say it.”
you can’t even catch your breath before he hurriedly pressed closer to your sides to scare you, you shriek “stop ! m’sorry !”
“not what i wanted you to say, try again.”
“you’re—” you take a breath “sucha”
his fingers graze your shirt and his eyes are wide, daring you to finish your sentence, you bring your hands up to try to hide his field of vision.
“OKAY ! okay, okay…” you slowly lower your hands away, finally dropping them at your sides with a sigh “m’ a thief…” you mumble in defeat, embarrassment creeping up on you not only from the fact that you got caught but that the blond above you clearly enjoyed your torture if the evil snickers you heard we’re any sign of that.
he hums in satisfaction “mhm, no good fuckin’ thief. should lock you up and throw away the key on your ass.” you hate how handsome he looks when he’s playful like this with you. your sides still hurt and your voice is croaky from how out of breath you were and for a moment you seriously thought you saw the pearly gates.
you pout, and all it does is make him smile wider.
your boyfriend is mean. and the biggest asshole in the entire fucking world.
“s’not my fault..your clothes are comfy.” you mumble, crossing your arms over your chest. “and they smell good.”
he scoffs, leaning down closer towards you “that’s cus i fuckin’ wash them. and i haven’t been able to lately cus someone’s been stealing my entire closet.”
“i didn’t !”
“was boutta make me walk around naked, ya moron. all my clothes are gone.” you roll your eyes, he never lacked in the dramatics department.
“you’re such a drama queen.” you whine, sinking into his comforter. he ignores you and he presses your cheeks together with one hand, chuckling at your smooched cheeks and furrowed brows.
“stop stealing my stuff.” he announces slowly. he’s clear, no way you could’ve misunderstood him anyway. he sighs and presses a quick peck to your lips still pressed together
“if you want one of my sweaters r’something, jus’ come ask me. can give you one..or whatever.” he finishes, voice slightly muffled in embarrassment as he shoves his mouth against yours again and again making wet kissing sounds and you manage a giggle. he rolls his eyes, but a smile slowly crawls up his face anyway as he releases your cheeks. you let out a happy sigh, opening and closing your mouth to get rid of the slight soreness.
“take this shit off though.” he tugs at the hoodie you’re wearing “stinks. need to put it in the wash.”
“no it doesn’t !” you protest, pressing the color against your nose in an attempt to keep it close to you “it smells like you!” you pout. he doesn’t respond for a bit, opting to squint at you while the tips of his ears turned pink. and in a second his snatched the bottom of it and ripped it off of you, ripping a pathetic scream from you.
he examined his hoodie with an unreadable expression before his eyes land back on you for a second, then he slowly starts folding up his sweater “you trynna say i stink ?” he says lowly.
“no. i wouldn’t wear your clothes if they were nasty” you scrunch up your nose “you can take back the sweater in my room, though. the smell is starting to wear off.”
“gee, thanks for offering to give me my sweater back. weirdo” he glares, spitting his words out sarcastically and you giggle at his extra emphasis on his ownership of the hoodie which earns you a huff.
“ i’m grabbing all the shit you took from me, and they stay with me.” he starts warningly “but you can keep this, i guess..” he adds, patting on his now folded hoodie ready for a cleaning. you smile happily, running your socked feet into his blankets.
“ oh, but don’t forget to wear it first after you washed it, want it to smell like you. otherwise there’s no point.”
“you really are a fucking weirdo.” he spits, but the way his cheeks burn bright red say he’s not truly mad about it. you laugh, and katsuki grumbles. “hope you learned your lesson, freak.” he taunts. you hum in fake thought, then release a sigh.
“yeah, i guess i did.” you concede, and he nods proudly.
and sure, yeah, you’re boyfriend’s a big meanie. but you do a great job at riling him up.
“for now.”
Tumblr media
2K notes · View notes
cynical-ghost · 4 months ago
Note
more platonic grid x reader, we say in unison ! i love how chaotic reader is and you’re so fucking funny 😮‍💨 please and thank you !
DANCING QUEEN
Pairing: Platonic Grid x fem!driver!reader
Genre: Smau- social media, chaos…
Warning(s): use of Yn, foul language?
Synopsis: It’s Yn’s 17th birthday…
A/n: This is for you Nonnie🫶 I’m so glad you liked my other platonic grid fics! I was listening to ABBA and my writing block was cured. Thank you ABBA, we say in unison🤭
Ynforeal
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Liked by Maxverstappen1, Charles_Leclerc, Oscarpiastri and 1,974,263 others
Ynforeal winning while hungover is one for the books! 🏆🍾
Alpinef1team change the caption. (management made me write that, 17 and hungover looks good on you gurllll 🫶)
Ynforeal I will (I’m not gunna, Thankssss girllll!!)
Motheryn WELL DONEEE, happy birthday for yesterday!!!!!!
User15 does anyone know what Yn did for her birthday??
Landonorris you don’t wanna know…
User15 now I wanna know even more…
Oscarpiastri 🤫
Maxverstappen1 Congrats 🍾
Ynforeal I can feel your enthusiasm through my screen Maximilian😒
Maxverstappen1 👍
Landonorris YEHDNDB WELL DONE GIRL CONGRATULATIONS!!!! 🙌🍾🏆🥳
Ynforeal THANKY YOU LANDONNNNN
Landonorris Take notes @/maxverstappen1
Maxvertappen1🫡
Charles_Leclerc 🍾 one for the books indeed Yn, proud of you for not throwing up in your helmet!! 😂
Ynforeal thank you Charlie! It was a very close call but then I realised I couldn’t see max in my mirrors and wanted to piss him off 😂
Maxverstappen1 what, is it ‘hate on Max Verstappen, three time Wdc, day’ 🧐
Ynforeal had to put the titles in didn’t you. Did it make you feel better?
Maxverstappen1 yes, yes it did👍
Landonorizzz anyone got pics of Yns birthday?
Ynforeal Posting them later, couldn’t post them before the race otherwise I could have been disqualified 😂
Landonorizzz OMFGSJSBD SHE REPLIED TO MEEE OMFBE
Ynforeal I REPLIED JEBDJSKSNSB SO HAPPY DOR YOU HDHSJS
Landonorris
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Liked by Ynforeal, Oscarpiastri, Carlosainz55 and 984,892 others
Landonorris HAPPY 17th TO MY MAIN BITCH 🥂💸🤩
Ynforeal YASSSS JFBSBDJS VOTTA FEED MY BABY
Landonorris 🍼🍼🍼
User15 BIRTHDAY POSTS! I RÉPÈTE BIRTHDAY POSTS ARE POASTING RN AJBDAN
User12 These we definitely already made and were waiting to be posted
Landonorris you are correct! we have a bet that whoever doesn’t post their birthday draft they have to pay up 💰💰
Maxverstappen1 how many cakes did you have in the end Yn?? 😂
Ynforeal 3 in total, one family friendly one from my family, one from my crew, and one from you guys🎂🍰🧁
Maxverstappen1 🐖 <- you
Ynforeal 🐍 <- you
Maxverstappen1 😱
Ynforeal you little snake 🐍 shshsshshhs
Maxverstappen1 oink oink teef (bitch)
User56 I’m new do Yn and max hate Each other or something? They seem close irl but their comments say a different story.
Motheryn they have a sibling dynamic, that monstrosity is how they show their love for each other 😂😂
User56 oh thank goodness😂😂
Maxverstappen1
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Liked by Ynforeal, Charles_Leclerc, yourbff and 2,463,643 others
Maxverstappen1 HAPSPY FKINWSG BRTHDAY SISTAAA, HWO DO YOU TRN CAPITSL LTTERS OFF, thnk you birthday batch🫶💕💸💰🥳
Ynforeal I KNEW YOU LIVED ME MAXAMILLIAN !! You are deffo regretting getting pissed last night, how are you feeling about this?
Maxverstappen1 never speak of this again, I didn’t want lando to win the bet 🙄
Ynforeal uh hu, never letting you live this one down Maxine👍
Maxverstappen1😀
User23 is this actually happening rn, how drunk was max last night 😂😂
Landonorris I think this tops my birthday post🤣🥲
Maxverstappen1 tAkE NoTeS @/Landonorris
Landonorris my own words used against me 🔪❤️
Redbullracing Your 3 time world champion everybody 👏
Yourbff max you should get drunk more often 😂
Ynforeal IKR!!! He’s a big softy really 🤭
Maxvertappen1 😑
Ynforeal
Tumblr media
Liked by Maxverstappen1, landonorris, yourbff and 3,158,321 others
Ynforeal 17 DANCING QUEEN JSHDHDKAN MAXIE KS FUCKED, I said I wanted to go carting but all we had was trollies 🛒😂😂💸🍾🎂
Landonorris HAPPY BIRTHDYA
Yourbff My beautiful bestie yasssss
Ynforeal luv youuuu 🫶
Yourbff 🤭❤️
Maxverstappen1 I can’t deny it 🙂
Ynforeal 🥂🍾🍺🍻🍷🍸🥃🍹<- you
Maxverstappen1 🛒🎉🥳🎂🎁🎈🎊<- you
625 notes · View notes
aespabangedbang · 1 month ago
Text
•••MUNCHING OPPA'S EUNCHAE•••
Tumblr media
Writer's Note: The long waited Eunchae smut is here. Thanks to haters I lost my initial 4K draft so it took this long. It's a new smut from scratch, better and filthier. I made it 2× lengthier than I wished to make up for the waiting, enjoy it fuckers!
Tags: (FULL CON) Incest, Gangbang, Consentual Hardcore, Oral, Anal, Pissing, Creampie, Breeding, Training, Taming, Physical and Mental Breaking, Bloody, Nympho, Free Use, Pregnancy and more. But all (FULL CON).
Warning: Pure Smut, don't ask for mortality.
Word Count: 8150 words.
“HAVE YOU BROUGHT THE PILL?” I asked loudly to my friends, whom I have invited over for my little sis Eunchae’s birthday party. Well it was a week ago, but I have arranged another special one for her.
My parents are away fortunately, dad on a oversea business trip busy fucking her busty secretary while mom said she have an urgent project and went other side of the country. That's a lie, she is cheating with her director. I know because I once caught her red handed, getting breed. And for my father's secretary, he let me fuck her last time I went to his office.
“Yeah, but are you sure about it?” He shows the after pill and replies.
“She is your own sister, I can't believe you are ok with this. Though I am not complaining, he he he!” another one replies.
“Trust me guys, she is my sis and that's why I am sure this will work. Our parents’ fucking perverted genes in her. So like me she will love it!” I reply with a grin on my face.
“If you say so. Here is the booze for the party.” This one brought a big box of Soju for all.
“We should have brought a few box of condoms instead of just one after pill. I am not sure about this bros.” This one has a habit of sweating about every little details.
“Chill dude, if she gets knocked up I’ll take full responsibility. Even if it's one of yours. I can take her for abortion….. Come on, don't bring down the party mood.” I say with annoyance.
“Just accept the offer dude, you don't get an offer like this everyday.” This one is as chill fucker as me.
“Truth to be told, I always wanted to pin Eunchae and fuck her, she makes me crazy!” This one friend of mine is her senior in college. I know he has had a crush on her for years.
“Can’t wait to creampie your sister back. It's payback time for what you did to my mom last month!” This one’s mom is such a dirty bitch, I ended up fucking her when I stayed in his house last month.
“In my defense, it's your mom's fault for not rejecting my advances. She took her bra off and showed me how big her boobs are. How can I not fuck her after that. She didn't even try to fight me and enjoyed it.” I tease him by acting like I am grabbing his mom's ass, my hip humping the air.
“That's why we are here with such a nasty plan. Girls have holes and we have cocks, so sharing those holes for taking care of our cocks is the best thing we can do for each other!’ I pat his back, now we are at the front of our house.
I ring the bell, my lovely sis Eunchae comes running to open the door. She turned 18 a week ago. She is in a famous Kpop idol group, renowned and loved by millions of her fans. She is pretty tall and cutesy, her personality is the sweetest.
Tumblr media
“Welcome home Oppa, thanks for coming for my birthday again Oppas. I know my Oppa can be demanding sometimes, but I am happy that you all have come again!” She says with a sweet voice. She is looking as cute and delicious as ever. Her protruding boobs are like donuts, her perfectly round butts are like cakes and her bulged pussy looks like a muffin. I lick my lips, can't wait to taste my 18yo sis. Some of my friends whistle from behind and can't hide the anticipation.
We all went to the living room where I prepared a mid-sized birthday cake, shaped like a pyramid. It has a secret in it, you will know it soon. It's not exactly her birthday so we don't wait for midnight and start cutting it. Usual stuff, set candles, blow 'em up and make a wish. She starts cutting it from the corner and gives us all, enjoying her birthday again like a princess. The thing about princesses is that they are destined to be nothing but cock warmers. And I am going to prove it soon.
Soon the blunt cake knife gets stuck and she can't cut anymore. She looks puzzled, I take the knife and start cutting the secret in it. What is it? It's a massive 7 inch long and fat red flexible dildo, now coated with cake and cream. I say “Ta Da, it's my special gift for our birthday girl Eunchae!” “W-what is this?” She takes the dildo from my hand and is visibly confused. “It's a dildo for celebrating the fact that my little sis is now a grown up woman!”
“What does it do? This looks a lot like your little elephant bro…..” She grabs it with both hands, not sure what it is. Shaking it around like jelly. “It shakes like a toy, I am not a kid anymore oppa.”
Wait what?
Like thunder the realization that my supposed to be slutty sis don't know what even a dildo has struck us all. How the fuck are we gonna even fuck her then? No no no this can't be happening, I prepared so long and even brought my fuck buddies home for this. No way my nympho parent gave birth to a normal child like her, she must have a lewd side like me. Gotta find it out before I become a joke to my friends.
My friends are looking at me with questioning eyes as if asking what now? We don't fuck anyone without consent, so it's up to me to tame her into a slut. I take a breath and answer her, “Yes dear Eunchae, it IS a replica of male penis. More precisely a sex toy to masturbate when you are horny.” I say with a straight face like it's the most normal thing for an Oppa to give her sis a dildo as a gift in front of his friends.
“A S-SEX TOY! Eeuw, it's gross. Why are you giving this to me?” Her face flushed red immediately. Holding its tip with two fingers. “Cause you are 18 now and it's about time you grow into a mature woman. You need to explore your sexuality in order to be a fully grown lady. Instead of getting heartbroken by some one night stand boy trying to figure it out, I decided to help my sis grow into the young, empowered proper lady you ought to be. Your other Oppas are here to help you with that. It's going to be fun, trust me.”
“You want to do WHAT? I don't get it. How can you all help with my sexuality? What are you even planning?” She is getting suspicious, I gotta take control. “Do you trust me or not? I did all these just for your pleasure and well being. Oppa gonna help you understand. Just listen to me, ok?” I put my hand around her cheek. This is my last chance, if she says no then it's over. “Ok, I trust you oppa. But how is this gonna help? How are oppas gonna help me?”
I take the dildo from her hand and shove her shoulder downward, making her sit on the floor. “First we need to clean this dildo up. Can you say AHA for me princess?” “Use the kitchen towel, it's right….” I stop her and insist, “OPEN. YOUR. MOUTH. BITCH!” Having a hard time keeping my urge to shove my dick in her mouth right away. “DID YOU SWEAR AT ME OPPA!” She shouts, pouty with anger. “Come on Eunchae, just do it. Says one of my friends. “Your bro knows what he is doing.”
Reluctantly she opens her mouth a little, but enough for me to shove my expensive long fat dildo half the way in. Her gag reflex kicks in, she coughs and her eyes bulge trying to take the length. I pull a little out and keep the tip in, giving her a sec to breathe and push again trying to go as deep as I can. After a few thrust she starts retching and her hands that are around my wrist pull me out with all her force.
She starts coughing violently, her tongue comes out making more room to breathe. After a few moments to regain composure she asks “W-WHAT THE HELL O-OPPA? WHY ARE YOU MAKING ME CHOKE ON THAT?” She keeps coughing from discomfort. “It's called blow job if you are giving and face fuck if you are taking, little sis. It's most likely the very first thing man will make you do when having sex so you have to be good at it.” I explain with a successful grin, my fucking sis have taken the bait.
“S-Sex? This is Sex? I thought they only penetrate your vagina while having sex. That's what is written in the books.” She replies, still gasping for breath. We are dumbfounded that our absolute sex monster of a parent gave birth to a virgin fairy who doesn't even watch porns. She is something else and it's Oppa's job molding her into what she really meant to be. That is, another nympho in society who fucks all and get fucked by everyone else.
“This is called oral sex Eunchae. You see mouth is also a hole and you can fuck any hole with a cock while having sex.” Properly explained by one of my friends. “I didn't know it. Then can you fuck nose and ears too? But that thing won't even fit into those holes.” I facepalm, why the fuck is she embarrassing me like this? My fuck buddies will troll me saying this for a long time. Don't be this innocent, it's straight up stupidity. They start laughing loudly, really amused seeing what a good girl Eunchae is despite her entire family being big time fuckers.
“No Eunchae, you can't fuck nose or ears. Only your mouth, pussy and asshole.” I try to say it with a straight face. “NO, no way that can fit in my ass. It will break me in half. You are joking!” She replies with disbelief. “You will find out soon princess. Let's keep it up.” “No no no, I am not choking on that again!” She tries to fight back but like we care. You have given consent bitch, now your holes are ours.
Tumblr media
“Hold her guys.” I signal them. They go and grab her hands, I grab her hairs and yank her head back. “It's time you take it all the way in lil sis!” I lick my lips, ready to train her mouth properly. “No no oppa, I don't wa…. ACKK ACK ACCKK!” I shove the dildo again in her mouth, fucking her face with it. Her gag reflex trying to push it out but like I care. Wasted a lot of time trying to bait her, it's about time I reap the result.
AUGH AGGH AGH AUGH AGGH AUUGH
She is gagging hard on the dildo as I am advancing deeper little by little with each thrust. Her eyes are tearing up, squirming body but it's no use. We hold her steady and eventually the flexible dildo makes it all the way in. Eunchae’s face has turned red from continuous suffocation. Her throat has visibly bulged, looking like a python trying to gulp its food. I grab her buldged neck, “Now that's a hole ready for fucking. Good job princess!” And then promptly pull the dildo out.
AUGH AGHH GUHH AHHH AHH HAA HA
She is trying to catch her breath again. “P-please don't c-choke me on it!” She begs. “Don't worry sis. Your blowjob training is over. Let us go to the next stage!” “W-what now?” She asks. “The main course! Trust me you will have the time of your life soon.” I reply, it's about time I take her cherry.
I start to pull her mini skirt down. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING OPPA?” She is dumbfounded. I don't answer, once her skirt is gone I put my hand on her lace panty. “DON’T, YOU’LL MAKE ME NUDE!” She screams. “That’s the whole point here Eunchae. We are gonna fuck you and teach you about your sexuality. Trust me it will be amazing.” I take a breath, giving her time to process the bizarre idea. “But if you want I can stop, don't worry we are not forcing you.” I give her false assurance. “But, are you sure you don't want to get pleasured by so many Oppas? We will treat you like a real queen, Princess Eunchae!”
I pour the poisonous honey in her ears. She should take the bait. If she is anything like my mom and dad or even me, spreading her legs is an easy choice. She looks hesitant, which means she is actually thinking about it. “Come on, you are now an adult Eunchae. Stop thinking like a teen and enjoy life!” Says one of my fuck buddies. “O-OK. LET'S DO IT! I AM NOT A KID ANYMORE. I AM A LADY AND I CAN HANDLE IT!” She shouts in an attempt to encourage herself. “I AM READY!” She clenches her fist in the air!
YESSSSS! A combined group shouts fill the room as we have secured our hunt. “Grab our big lady’s limb and lift her up, boys!” I order my friends who don't hesitate to grab her hands and legs, lifting her in the air. They spread her legs, the little fabric of her slim panty hardly hiding her pussy lips. Her pussy is already wet from the arousal build up. “Look at you getting so wet! Can't wait to get fucked by Oppa? You bad bitch!” I start slapping her pussy loudly, for the first time she starts moaning in response!
SMACK AHH SMACK AAH SMACK AHH
She is moaning with every slap. I stop soon after, grab her panty and tear its string in one strong pull. Behold Eunchae's glistening wet pussy, her milky white swollen folds and pink hole is on full display for her Oppas. Wow, sexy, so hot, oh my fuck, what a bitch, lovely, crazy good; my friends filthy remarks make Eunchae shy. “Don't keep looking, Oppas!” Eunchae says while hiding her embarrassed face behind palms.
My friends’ hands are busy touching and exploring her juicy pussy, moving her folds aside and taking a better look at her needy baby hole. They put their fingers inside her pussy, making her moan even more. Some put their wet fingers in her mouth, making her taste her own juice. Her puckered asshole is clenching from the teasing. We lift her top up, her lace bra can't hide the erected hard nipples. I pull and tear her bra too, her small yet perky boobs come out. Another round of appreciation comes from her Oppas seeing how fuckable she has turned this 18.
No point waiting. I take my baggy pants and boxer off in one go, my 6 inch plus long and 1 inch fat fully erected cock jumps out, standing high with its wet tip. Ready to fuck my sis at last! “THAT'S TOO BIG OPPA! IT WON'T FIT!” Her eyes go wide seeing my girth. We laugh, cause she has no idea exactly what else is going to get in her holes from now on. “Relax Eunchae. It's gonna hurt a little at first but soon you will be at an all time high. Just relax and breathe, ok?” I assure her.
I set my tip at her entrance, rubbing her slit with my tip teasing her more. "PUT IT IN OPPA, I AM READY!” She shouts again gathering courage. I push, my tip barely enters, her virgin hole is so tight. Eunchae is holding her breath for embracing the shock, her face nervous. I push again, now my bulbous tip goes in. AAHHH, a moan comes out of her mouth. One of my hands goes for her boobs, the other goes for mouth muffling her. I chamber my cock back, and pull the trigger to kill her virginity once and for all.
Thanks to all the foreplay from us, her pussy is perfectly lubricated. So with just one powerful thrust I go all the way in kissing her cervix. “MMPHFFM...” her muffled cry makes me so horny. I am in, at last I am in my Eunchae's pussy! It's so tight like biting me off, it's so warm like burning my dick. Actually it's my first time fucking a virgin too, all the other whores I fucked were already used. Her eyes watering up, “Easy Eunchae easy, Oppa is here. The pain will be your pleasure soon!”
I pull my dick all the way out leaving only the tip, fresh blood coating my boy. The iron-like blood and her feminine musky cum smell makes us feel so aroused. I thrust my hip pumping all the way in again, hitting her cervix easily. The on air missionary position helping me to reach so deep in her. “MMF MPH…” Eunchae is crying from the pain of torn hymen and cervix hits as well as the discomfort but sorry lil sis, I don't want to hold back.
I point them to give me her panty and bra back to me. “IT HURTS OPPA, GO SLO MMFP MPHM…..” I don't let her finish the yell as I stuff her mouth with her undies. I start pumping her with full force now, she got a total 8 dick to please tonight. So I can't afford to go sissy on her. Fast and hard is how she can make us happy, her pain or discomfort is temporary anyway. She is bucking her hips in the air, her hands and legs trembling with each thrust. She is crying as the pain and overwhelming pleasure take over her. All the hits on her cervix are making it bruised.
MMPH MFPH MMH MHMM MMFM MMH
Her struggling is clear, her hands on my chest and pushing me back. But I am not slowing down. I nod my bros to hold her tight and start bucking my hips even harder, my finger goes for her erect clit and starts pinching and rubbing it. She starts arching her back on air, trying to pull herself out. She can't take this overwhelming pleasure anymore. I can't care any less.
UUGH UGH UGHH UGGU UGH UGHHH UGH
Her muffled tone change shows she is close. I keep the double assault on her until she starts convulsing and jerking, her pussy almost biting my dick off making it impossible to thrust. Then she cum for the first time in her life, her floodgates open and drench me in her female juice. She cum a lot, watering my belly, balls, dick and her pussy, thigh and belly.
I should just stop and let her enjoy her orgasm, but since when I do the right thing! I pull out her makeshift gags and go for a incestuous kiss, my both hands grabbing under and around her hip keeping her close to my body and in position. My bros put her hand around my neck and let go of her, her legs naturally go around my body. Now she is basically riding me on air.
Aaaaand I thrust up, she is still orgasming making it more stimulating. I am bouncing her body on my dick with my hands while my hip is busy thrusting up. Our lips locked while her body is jerking from mind blowing pleasure. Her head goes back and she barely screams, “OP-PA S-S-STOP H-HURTS AHH AHHH AHH AHHHHH….” But my hip is not listening, seeing my lil cute sis going crazy on my dick makes me want to fuck her even harder. So I go to the sofa and put her on her back.
Without carrying her body weight I feel light like a feather. I put my hand behind her head, start to muffle her by kissing. My hip is going blurry, I am feeling sore in my cock and back muscles. Eunchae's wet pussy bites on my dick again, starts cumming for the 2nd time a few sec after. Her legs scissoring me hard, trying to close the gap between our crotch so that I can’t pump anymore.
HMPH HUMPH HMMPH HMUPH HMPH
Her eyes are hitting the back of her head from extreme pleasure. But it's not saving her as I am close to my climax, making me fuck her like a mad horse. I start groaning loudly, never in my life I got this stimulated, the taboo of fucking my sister who is a virgin and cutie makes me go over the edge. My balls clenching painfully before my orgasm hit me……
My knees go weak. I fell on Eunchae, my head beside her head. Her creamy soft boob pressing against me. Don't have time to appreciate such horny feeling as I am cumming nonstop in her. So much hot jizz has shot inside her, flooding her baby hole, leaking around my dick. My hip is not stopping, like it has a mind of its own. Both of our bodies are trembling from overstimulation, yet I can't stop. My dick is numb, my ball aching from cumming so much. My hands and legs are shaking and for the first time in my life I have lost all energy to thrust one more time.
Tumblr media
I just rest on her body regaining breath, then pull out and a big blob of cum gurgles out from her pussy, slowly going down to the sofa under me. I lie beside Eunchae, both of our chest heaving. I ask her somehow, “Did you love it?” “I-IT FU-CKING HURTS O-OPPA!” a weak slap comes flying at my face. I digest it, after all it's my fault she is going through the pain. “Anything else princess?” I ask her knowing no way she doesn't love her first time. “I-IT FEELS F-REAKING GOOD, AAHH…!” Her body convulsing even now, more and more cum making their way out of her idolized swollen pussy.
I recover faster, of course a seasoned fucker got it under control. I stand up, my bloody dick is getting smaller as the orgasm is dying. But not letting that happen. I take my dick to Eunchae's mouth, ”Suck me clean princess!” “W-what? It's bloody and gross Oppa, eeuw!” She tries to move her head but I grab her and shove my cock in. Start face fucking her, after few thrust I go deep throat. My cock makes it way too deep, making her throat bulge and coughing.
Mmmh mmph mmp mphh mmph mmmh
The throat training at the start is coming handy. She is now actively sucking my cock, making it better. I grab her head and use her like a fleshlight for long enough to make me cum again. Each and every thrust made her gag and the depth of her throat sore.
Ropes after ropes of my baby batter painted her mouthpussy, making her choke. She is trying her best to keep her gag reflex away, sucking with enthusiasm to pleasure her Oppa. She is already getting a hang of it. I pull out with a loud plop sound, cum starts to leak at the corner of her lips.
I am spent, absolutely. Never came so much in such a short time. Who knew my ex virgin sis had such amazing holes. Now I notice one of my friend is busy recording the fucking ceremony of Eunchae, I was so focused on her that I didn't notice. “Send all of us a copy of that later bro, gotta keep the momento.” I wink at him and say. I make Eunchae sit, then pull her legs apart and bring them at her shoulder height. Taking a good look at the scene of my breeded sis.
“Oppa is so proud of you, my little wench! You’ll make a perfect little fuck doll, a masterpiece of a cumdump. Oppa will make sure of it!” I shove my dick in her throat few more times holding her legs, my Eunchae looking at me with a fuck me eyes. “I hope it didn't hurt too much. Let Oppas make it up with pleasure for you.” I lewdly say to her, cupping and kissing her mouthpussy. My tongue goes in again tasting both of our juice.
I break my incestuously sexy kiss, then order my fellow fuckers, “Oppas gang, bang your lil sis Eunchae all you want! I am spent, so let me take some rest.” I give Eunchae's small boobs a hard squeeze before moving away giving the line for my friends. They immediately start to undress, each and everyone’s XL and XXL sized cocks are aiming at Eunchae. “S-SO BIG OPPAS, THESE W-WON’T FIT!”
“I am going first.” The friend whose mom I fucked come forward. “Take the phone bro, keep recording.” The one who was recording gives me the phone and goes forward. “What about her ass?” Says the jinxing one. “Later dude, let her take some breath.” I assure him. I gave them one condition that I’ll be the first to taste all her holes first. After that they can fuck her as much as they want, not my problem.
“YOU ARE SO BIG OPPA, DON'T PUSH AAAAAAH….” My motherfucking friend is already at it. “IT HURTS AAAHH SO BIG AHHH YOU ARE BREAKING MY TUMMY AHHH ARGH DON'T HIT MY UTERUS ARGGGH…..” She starts screaming trying to take the 8 inch motherfucking cock of my friend. “Argh this bitch cries too much. Oi, plug her throat.” He signals another one. He walks on the sofa and stands over Eunchae, his bushy crotch and smelly cock in front of her mouth, makes her frowning. “I-IT S-SMELLS AAHH ACKK ACRGG ACK…..”
Of course we don't care about her complaining. Bitches sucks whatever is given to them, sweaty, salty or smelly don't matter. I am filming them fucking my precious little sis Eunchae like those cheap sluts we fucks at group outing. Eunchae would be amazing for streets, she got the talents for it. Should I rent her up after this, that would be so hot. Fuck! My sis fucking every street goons as I rent her up for some extra money does sound like lucrative business plan.
They are taking turns fucking her mouth and pussy at the same time in many different threesome positions. Standing on the sofa, putting her on the arm rest on her belly, on air grabbing her hands and legs, putting her on the tea table on her back, putting her on the ground on all fours; My bros are having the time of their life. It takes around half an hour of nonstop Eunchae fucking before my cock start to feel aroused again. I really emptied my ball back there.
All of them have busted their nuts inside her. Each of them end up breeding her pussy and enjoying their cock in her mouth at least once. They always ended with cumming in her, so she drank and collected enough cum in her pussy and belly to make Oppa proud. Eunchae is now officially the cumdump of me and my bros. We shall free use her like this from now on, anytime and anywhere. The day of her innocence is over with this birthday.
“It's break time guys, let my poor Eunchae catch some breath. She deserves it, went all out for us for her first time.” I say like the responsible older bro that I am. I take some tissue and go to wipe her clean. She is on the floor now, her limbs sprawled wide showcasing her holes. Her pussy is gaped and cummed amply, I am kinda sure the after pill won't work after this. While wiping her wet pussy and sticky lips dry, I imagine how crazy she will look with a preggo belly. Fucking our pregnant Eunchae's big belly would be amazing!
Tumblr media
“I-is it over Oppa?” Eunchae says with a weak hoarse voice, clearly exhausted and her voice broken from continues deepthroating in her hour long ordeal. “We are getting a break lil sis. Let all of us catch some air. Come on, sit up.” I pull her up and make her sit, she holds on my leg like a koala and leans her head on my thigh. Man, I would love to fuck that innocent face again but let's keep our words. “Open the Soju guys, it's drinking time.”
For the next hour we sat around on the floor and enjoyed our Soju. All of us are naked, Eunchae sitting beside me leaning on my shoulder, crossing our arms. We drink, share many of our fucking stories. How I forcefully fucked one of our aunt and nobody in our family know it till now, how that friend who love my sis busted his nut everyday thinking of forcing Eunchae, how we once fucked a pretty female police officer double penetrating her in the back alley of a arcade, how Eunchae lusted for sex like any teenagers but were shy about it……
Eunchae in the center of our gossip now. She shares how scary yet adventurous she felt at first when I wanted to fuck her. She says her throat and uterus aching from continues poking of our dicks, but she absolutely craving the pleasure of getting fucked. “Argh my tummy and throat is in pain Oppas, it's painful to even sit or talk straight. But I can't wait to get fucked by you all again. The pleasure is too much, I am going crazy!” She guides my hand into her crotch and moans painfully once I start fingering her.
I have made Eunchae drink for the first time, her face is already flushed. Teaching the lil sis how to fuck, suck and drink is definitely a job for Oppa. Few more shots and she starts talking a little sluggish. She climbs on my lap and starts kissing me deep, our tongue getting twisted together. She is grinding her pussy against the length of my cock, making me rock hard again. “F-FUCK ME AGAIN OPPA ARGGGH….!” She begs me with a growl, our first time drunk Eunchae can't contain her newfound lust.
“Easy lil pussy, there is more than your baby hole that can pleasure you, or us!” I give her my devilish smirk before lifting her up putting my hands under her legs, like when I fucked her on air. “Let's go to the princess’s chamber knights, it's time we give her some through fucking!” I command my council of fucking knights. “KYAAAA, PLEASE FUCK ME OPPA!” She is impatiently humping me, makes a nasal scream while being a little drunk. “Take the dildo.” I tell that to my bros.
We go to her bedroom that's decorated with all the cute and cool things, befitting our princess. I throw her on her bed, her body springs up from the mattress's bounciness. I flip her on her tummy, then bend her legs making her ass go high. I take the dildo from their hand, “Give me the lube.” “What lube? You didn't tell us to bring any!” Damn, I bought the dildo so of course it was my job to buy the lube, why did I even think they’ll bring it. Damn!
After thinking a little while I got an idea. I say to Eunchae, “You don't fuck nose or ears, but asshole. So we will now fuck your ass hole lil sis! IT'S EUNCHAE SODOMIZE TIME!” I say it loudly the hype everyone. “A-SS HOLE? IT WON'T FIT OPPA, YOU WILL TEAR ME APART!” Despite being drunk she still understands the level of pain she will suffer going through this. “Getting broken is part of the process of becoming an adult. Don't worry princess, it won't hurt that much.” I start pulling apart her butt cheeks and puckered ass hole, spitting a big lump. “Come guys, spit her hole. The more the better!”
We start spitting big lumps and I use my finger to smear it inside. Then we spit the soft dildo too. Then I start pressing it. Her asshole is so tight and narrow, even my finger had a hard time poking. “Relax your ass sis, it will hurt if you tense up.” But this only makes her more nervous and her hole tighter. So I proceeded to brute force my way in. I stand up, my friends hold Eunchae's butt steady in the high. I place the dildo on her entrance like a drill and give a hard shove, my body weight behind it. With a puff sound it goes in an inch. “FUUUUUCK! I-IT’S BRE-AKING ME OPPA!” She screams so loud that our ears go deaf.
I don't care about her pain. I start drilling my way in, pulling the dildo up to the tip and then thrust again. Inch by agonizing inch, I am advancing into her asshole. Eunchae's painfully sharp moaning filling the room, “OOH OOOH OOOHHH OH OH OHHHH OHH OOH OOH OHH……” I spit again, my bros pitch in. But our little saliva hardly makes it better for her. By the time I put the entire 7 inch dildo in her ass, she had passed out from the pain. Her body trembling from the intense pain of almost dry sodomization. Blood leaking around the dildo, painting her hole red.
“Someone pee on her face.” To bring her consciousness back of course. No, we don't use water when we have pee to do the job. “Let me do it.” Says that friend who has a crush on her. I hold Eunchae's head still as he starts peeing on her face, his hot smelly jizz brings her back to reality soon. “ARGHHH OHHH AHHHGH….” She starts crying immediately regaining sense, her broken ass is bleeding. It's clear she is in immense pain. I pull the dildo out, it's coated with her blood. She immediately arch her back, her limbs are throwing around from unimaginable pain. “K-KILL ME OPPA, I-I CAN'T T-TAKE THIS P-PAIN ARGHHH….”
She bites down on the pillow to control herself. I signal my bros to bring more soju. I take the bottle to her mouth and say, “Sip it sis, this will help with your pain.” She drinks half of the bottle, getting calmer a little after. “Still wanna fuck? Though it's ok if you want to rest. No force sis.” I give her false assurance again. “Though it's gonna be hard to get fucked like this in future.” I am rubbing her clit and fingering her pussy again to bring the arousal back. My friends are busy messaging her boobs and stimulating her nipples. We are doing this so she gets the bait and agrees.
“OHHH OHHHH AH OH ARGH, DO IT OPPAS. FUCKING KILL ME, FUCK!” My fingering becomes faster until she starts convulsing and cumming again. I nod my bros, we have to strike while the iron is still hot. The 8 inch dick bro goes and plug Eunchae’s mouth deepthroating her, it's my que to claim her ass as the first man ever. I set my dick at her bloody entrance, look at her slutty face getting fucked, grab one of her legs at my shoulder and shove it in. Slowly but surely I shove it all the way into her ass on my first go.
Poor Eunchae starts shaking again from the pain. My cock is soaked in her blood, now working like lube. Both of us fucking her in two front, showing her no mercy. She is throwing her legs while her hands clawing the bed cover to cope with the onslaught. My friends are cheering from the sideline, the recording and continued insult toward my bitch of a lil sis makes me satisfied. That's the fucking young daughter this family deserve. “HOW IS OPPA’S COCK UP IN YOUR ASS, LIL SIS?” I shout from excitement.
MMMPHF MFPH MPHHF MMPH MMMFP
She responds with whimpers as her throat is still plugged in. Soon that friend of mine pull out and cum on her face and boobs. No we don't give her any time to even catch breath as the next one shoves his dick right away, claiming the princess one more time. Meanwhile my cock is so red from her blood, it must have tattered her anal skin further. With every thrust she keeps jerking like a toy. Her tightness of young and virgin ass soon push me to the edge.
“ARGGG ARGH TAKE MY SEED YOU WHORE!” I start cumming again, though not as much as the first time but still enough that when I pull out my cum mixed with her blood start oozing out. I jump towards her face, throw the one face fucking her and shove my bloody cock down her throat. “TASTE YOUR BLOODY ASSHOLE YOU FUCKING BITCH!” I keep thrusting until she makes my cock clean of any blood. I pull out and throw her head back, she has started to cry from the abuse but who cares. I move aside and my bros flocks in like hyenas to feast.
Tumblr media
“She is all yours, use her as you wish guys.” I give the green signal for free using her. One of them immediately lie down, his leg hanging outside. Others make Eunchae sit on him as he guides his cock into her pussy which was dripping with her own juice. Another one forces his cock up her ass and starts double penetrating her. “I-IT HURTS OPPA B-BUT I L-LOVE IT AAARGGGH FUUUUUCK MEEE ACK ACK ACKKK…..!” She screams from the pleasure of getting broken. She is sweating like a geyser while the air conditioner is running, which goes to show how much of an ordeal it is. Her whole sweaty body adding new layer of hotness.
Yet, my bitch lil sis Eunchae doesn't want to stop. For a domestic bitch she is a real piece of art. They are fucking her bloody, she is screaming from agonizing pain but none can stop her pursuit of sexual pleasure. They plug her deepthroating again, she is now having sex in the perfect threesome position. Feeling proud that I have turned her into a perfect slut. My bros are having a hard time lasting, most ending up cumming within 5 min of sex. The next one coming and filling the gap just to last even less.
Same goes for Eunchae, her pussy is like a faucet. She is now convulsing too often, cumming and even peeing with every thrust. They push their penis all the way in and she starts pissing, they pull out and she stops. They go in and she starts pissing again. Like their dicks are the key to this fuck doll. They insert the key she sprouts piss, they pull out and she stops.
Soon they can't even last a min inside her. Her masochistic pleasure makes everyone too horny to last long. They flip her, now the one lying under her is fucking her ass while the one standing fucking her pussy. “FUCK, I CAN'T KEEP FUCKING THIS CUNT ANY LONGER!” Says the jinxing friend before creampie her pussy once again. I move his gasping body aside and enter her gaping sticky pussy again, they cummed so much that my cock basically pumping those out. “Look at you bad girl getting cummed so many times. Do you want a baby that bad you lil piece of fucking pussy! She whimpers in answer but I dunno what that means.
“GEEZ, SHE IS TOO LOOSE NOW! Oi bro, let's put two cocks in her pussy.” I says that to the one who was fucking her ass lying under. We both angle our cock in front of her slit and enter one after another. My cock is over while he is under, stretching her pussy to the point it will never get closed completely. The one fucking her mouth pull out cumming and then Eunchae's inhuman scream comes out, “U-UMMA A-APPA SAVE M-MEE SS-SAVE ME ARGGGH….” For the first time she screams with fear and rejects the sex, it's too much for her to handle.
“Wow, calm down sis. You are making me sound like we are forcing you. Remember you gave us consent? Haha” I laugh back at her stupidity but who cares. A fuck doll will get fucked until she can't be fucked anymore. No room for complaints. I choke her neck, cutting air making her face red. We are rhythmically double pistoning her baby hole. The friction of our cocks and the insanely tightness of her stretched pussy makes me orgasm. With a primal roar I cum once again inside my sis’s overused and over stretched pussy. Blood and cum leaking out, her body convulsing once again as she squirts and pisses all over me.
“ARGH FUCK, YOU ARE SUCH A NASTY LITTLE FILTHY BITCH!” I start slapping her pussy every time she pisses from thrust, her pussy lips become black from bruises. After enough torturing I stop, my hand aching so her pussy is numb for sure. “That will ease your pain, hehehehe!” Like fighting fire with fire. “Be at ease bros, our sis is completely broken now. Let's go solo from now on, one at a time enjoying ourselves taking our time.” I give my poor Eunchae some ease as the caring older brother.
After that we fucked her solo for the rest of the night until dawn arrive. Claiming her pussy, impaling her asshole and face fucking her one after another is the norm now, it's her reality from here on. Kissing, biting and hitting her as we feel fit need no description. I fucked her few more times, she is now hardly moving or making sounds. Only occasional groan and whimpers leaving her overused mouthpussy. While her real pussy is dripping with cum and piss. Her eyes are turning upward with every thrust. Be it mind or body, Eunchae is nothing but a broken girl through and through.
We end up our mega serial of fucking Eunchae drama at the dawn. Everyone was exhausted, Eunchae passed out from the night long ordeal. But like any epic, this one needs a grand finale. I put her on my shoulder and take her to the bathroom and slap her back to reality. “RISE AND SHINE YOU FUCKING PRINCESS!” I put her on the ground leaning against the shower glass. She wakes up looking at me with weak eyes. “W-what Oppa?”
“IT’S GOLDEN SHOWER TIME!” And we start pissing on her face, open mouth and body. 8 men's pisses together is like a shower, drenching her completely. She tries to hide her face behind hand so I yank her head pulling her hair and shove my cock back in her throat and start pissing directly in her food pipe. The gurgling sound comes out as she tries not to drink but I go all the way in to make sure she drinks all of it. I pull out and other make her drink all of their piss, turning my lil sis into a public urinal.
“WHO IS OPPA’S URINAL EUNCHAE? SAY IT!” I yank her piss drenched face close to me, “M-ME O-OPPA HUURK HURK HA HURK……” She can hardly finish and start vomiting out everything in her belly. Well it's mostly piss, cum and soju as mucus like white semen is floating in her piss. “EEUW, YOU ARE SUCH A NASTY BITCH EUNCHAE.” I lightly stom on her tummy making her vomit even harder. Her coin sized gaped pussy and permanently gaped asshole discharging blood and cum too. Getting mix with the water as I am spraying water on her.
Tumblr media
The fucking Birthday ceremony of Eunchae is over. My friends clean themselves a little and takes their leave one by one, thanking me for the fucking hospitality. I get back to my senseless Eunchae whom I left in the dry bathtub. I carefully clean the sticky semen, blood, piss, vomit and sweat from her body. After half an hour she is as new as she was yesterday morning, like the innocent virgin she was. I dress her up in her trousers and tuck her under the sheet in my bed. She got a fever from the torturing lovemaking with 8 Oppas, it's expected.
“Here Eunchae, take these pills.” I give her a painkiller and an after pill with a glass of water. She takes them before lying on my bed, her eyes get teary. “Oppa,” She asks softly, “I am scared! Am I a bad girl now?” She looks sad. “You are the all Korea bad girl now Eunchae. You are literally the most sexually free girl. Imagine all the amazing fuck you will have in future, how many man will taste your pussy! You ought to be the happiest, YOU LIL BITCH!” I assure her by giving her the courage to walk the life of a shameless nympho slut.
“I got to clean our rooms sis. We made a mess in the living room and yours, remember?” I give her head a kiss and stand up. But suddenly I remember that I need strength to do all these cleaning. Fuck it, I pull my pant and bring my dick out. “But first recharge Oppa, little bitch.” “NO NO WAIT OP….” I thrust all the way in and start fucking her face slowly. “AHHH AHH AH YOU ARE RECHARGING OPPA LIKE A FAST CHARGER, AHHH!” I start pumping harder and faster deepthroating her once again.
MMPH MFPH MMMPFH MMFPH MMPH
Some morning crows fly away from the disturbing sound of Eunchae's sexual treatment by her Oppa. Well she better get used to it, sluts can't choose their fuck but only enjoy getting fucked, kekeke…….
Epilogue:
It's been nearly 3 months since her fucking birthday party. My sis have turned into a obedient lil slut who fucks me and my fuckbuddies without any pay. She gets fucked often, enjoying the cunty lifestyle wholeheartedly. She is making my life a breeze, like the other day I passed an exam gifting Eunchae to my professor for a night. Fucking a young tender meat like her earned me a lot of credits. Like the rest of her family members she is also such a nympho bitch!
But, today she literally sprinted to the toilet from her room. I follow behind her to find out the issue. Her head was spinning and vomiting, “Oppa?” She asks weakly. A quick pregnancy test comes positive. Yeah, we shouldn't have done it raw that day. A single pill didn't save her from getting bred after so much cum filling her womb. “Oppa what now?” She asks cutely, slumping on my lap. “It’s ok Eunchae, Oppa shall take you for abortion soon so don't worry. You just enjoy being the cunt you are destined to be.” I start kissing her deep, my tongue melting her mouth and making her forget everything else…….
Tumblr media
We have just arrived at the party, we are a little late. Eunchae made a fuss on the way for her dress, sometimes she can be so stingy argh! Anyway, it's one of my new friend’s marriage party, it's a pretty big venue. Eunchae wearing a sexy stylish costume with curves and cuts in all the right places. Like any normal party we enjoyed it halfway through. I went to socialize with others, leaving her to enjoy. When I come back, she is gone.
I know exactly what she is going to do. So after hastily looking for her I find her outside the venue in the garden, already giving a chad looking middle aged gentle man blowjob. She is taking his cock all the way in, deepthroating with such skill and ease. “You are at it again you nympho bitch!” I ask her, startling the dude. “D-DO YOU know her? Look, it's not what you are thinking. I am not forcing her. She herself is…..” I don't let him finish, “Relax dude, that's my lil sis Eunchae. She is a nympho so don't worry. Enjoy yourself and try not to cum too early!”
I pat him in the back. Eunchae pulls her head out with a gahh sound, she is blowing his shaft with both hands. “I’ll be there soon for the dance bro, give me half an hour Mmph mmphf mmphh….” And she immediately starts choking her on his cock taking it back in deepthroating herself.
She is now a fuck to reckon with. Nobody is safe from my Nympho bitch, there is nothing she can do or no one she can't fuck for sexual pleasure…..
"AH FUCK, TAKE MY SEED YOU STUPID CHEAP SLUT!" The man shout and grab her head cumming, cum starts leaking out at the corner of her lips. Eunchae take her head back with a plop sound, then licks her own lip clean saying, "You are fucking delicious, daddy!" Her slutty expression can take any men on his knee. She lift her dress exposing the open slit laced black lingerie for him, "What are you waiting for?" Her voice is full of lust. She is far from ending this, her sex session have just started.
THE END UP YOUR HOLES 🖕
+1 Eunchae × Karina pic from the only one dedicated aespa smut writer.
Tumblr media
421 notes · View notes
astrow0rldx · 3 months ago
Text
Mystery pick a card (Some 18+)
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Since I did a tarot reading poll for my next tarot reading. lets get the rest of the stuff out of my drafts and reach whoever whenever divine pleases. all different type of questions. some 18+, some not. choose what pile you feel intuitively drawn too.
if you fount it on 10/20-21 24 feel free to vote on the poll for the next reading: https://www.tumblr.com/astrow0rldx/764872633973145600/a-tarot-reading-poll-%E0%AD%A8-%E0%AD%A7?source=share
One
18+ who wants to fuck you?
people probably know them. they are very confident, bold, brave. self assured. they are very wishful, they have a lot of ideas. they could be hopeful, and faithful for big dreams. they could be a person who's naturally inspired, or just carries themself that way. looking for purpose. not really immature energy though, like they seem actually goal-oriented and grounded and serene. this person could make money and actually be well known. they might have a busy life or a lot of eyes on them, like they wake up with a purpose, ideas & confidence in their world,shining. leo, sun, solar plexus energy. but also goal-oriented, focused, practical, money getter. receives nice things. the way they may flirt may be cold-hearted, clever, non chalant. if charming then not too vulnerable. could even be a little shy, have anxiety. or maybe traps in their own head when talking, arguing, etc. so maybe quiet. i don't see them as this optimistic person all the time, they could be very down. maybe a lot of loss hopes. maybe focusing on the bad. could be a person to be like awnn im so sad, so they get inspired to find purpose. they find purpose in themself, and their character and life. you could know them for getting through things. like this person could be strong, a wounded healer. signs: leo, cancer, thick hair, ginger hair, nature, fairy/mermaid, coquette, nighttime, rich, spiritual, moon, been in jail, popular, famous, pretty/handsome. good sleep schedule. mourning and sad but strong and hopeful. get through it energy.
Two
18+ their sexual fantasy with you?
makeup sex, remove tension, confusion and conflict with sex. even tease you a bit. if you guys were both going through a lot because of the connection, or your personal lives, they want to move in and just protect you. stand strong and live a happy ever after and forget about the bullshit. they definitely have fantasies about you fucking while living together and different places around the house, marriage and children may be involved. this type of sex they want to give you they want it to be deep, or performative something to make their mark, own you and make you realize about them or you two. they fantasize about moments when they have to hesitate and they don't know, like should i make a move or should i not. should we go right now, or should we not. and its just so much adrenaline and passion between you guys. they fantasize about you being their ideal woman. you even dressing up in dresses for them, putting yourself together. and then they get to see you take it off, take it off for you and take control. they fantasize about this being connective sex though, so not them only doing the work by the way, don't be afraid to add force, strength or bratty. they want to get.. THERE. rough girlfriend sex. if not girlfriend, bestfriend with benefits, fuck buddy type of thing.
Three
hyping you up and calling you out?
numerology number 222 - You thrive in partnerships, value emotional connection, and have a strong intuition. traits like : Harmony, cooperation, empathy, and diplomacy. You may struggle to assert yourself, compromise too much, or fear conflict. traits like : Indecisiveness, over-dependence, and passivity.
Signs: Strong Libra, Leo, Scorpio, Fire Signs. Favorite - Nicki Minaj
Social butterfly, Creative/Inner child energy. ADHD? maybe Balanced, makes clear decisions. Popular girl energy tbh, if your not, express yourself! popularity doesn't matter anyways your bright regardless this is about you, not others. Heavy re-invent yourself type of person, no matter if its what you been through, your look/aesthetic-ness. Who you are, what you do, you are transformative.
You are a warrior, Your strong. You been through a lot but it made you stronger & only balanced you out. Courageous! It's like you have the power to conquer anything because you rise from it, with grace & confidence. No one should be able to take control of your way when you decide to take control. Game of Thrones energy, like you could look at yourself as some type of character, angel or you know what I mean, it adds to your ego & personality about the stuff you went through. Like this is my goddess, I have faced hardship and became a strong, balanced, warrior with angel wings because of that. You are balanced, wise, & fair. You can make clear, rational decisions. Resilience - the capacity to withstand or to recover quickly from difficulties. You can re-invent your self, and shine in your character. You are radiant, your full of life, and you bring light to everyone around you. Your positivity & energy is magnetic. Success, joy, and happiness is the aura and energy around you, embrace it and feel it.
Your like this clear, smart, rational person who shines bright and has this positive inner child energy about them. You have a lot of energy, and adaptability. Always on the go, always on the move, facing things, experiencing and going through stuff, or just being that way as your personality. Like Momentum is on your side, you move with speed & purpose. Push forward!!!
Four
how to get to your desired reality?
signs - National Olympics Games, Spelling bees, Swimming, NBA/NFL, Competitive things. Competitive work place/friend group/family. song: Candy Man, Planez by Jeremih. book: 48 Laws of Power by Robert Greene.
you may want to get away with something. wish you can take something. have a little secret. be a thief, manipulator, sneaky, rebel. something hidden that you want to get away with. this could involve a relationship or another thing you can desire in your life is a relationship. maybe a dynamic of earth sign fem/water sign masc. energetically, a woman who’s stable, has all her material desires, thriving in the physical & reality. with a emotional, caring, loving, mature man. with the 8 of cups outside of that and 7 of swords before you might have sneaky things going on in the relationship that you might want to leave behind. or you might want to leave a relationship for another person. or leave with this person. this could be another desire in your life to just maybe leave something behind, and move on from something.
you probably miss your innerchild. you miss someone you were in the past. a era in your life before. you want enjoy life, take the innocence and playfulness, the creativity & kindness of it all. you probably wish you had more integrity, more real, more logical. you probably wish you were more of a warrior, stronger, control things when it’s unfair. wish you had justice. you wish you were smart, straightforward, and had clarity, can understand things faster and see things through. better communication skills. work hard, you wish you can have consistency and persistence. good work. learn faster. wish you were good in school and your matters pertaining to your education, work, legal matters and children.
YOU GOT TO HAVE FUN THIS WORLD IS YOURS. GET SOME CONFIDENCE AND BRAVERY. take down your haters. make it through any competitive shit and stand on your throne. you control your reality, you manipulate the situation. you gain the control and the power. that means you decide when stuff is done, you leave stuff behind that doesn’t serve your best. and be in peace. SAVE and NOURISH and RESPECT & VALUE your peace. PLEASEEEEEEEEEEE put your respect and values to the right things and PEOPLE. your peace can help you understand your wishes and your values and your hopes. and help the tooth fairy to come and help you get it and gain control over the situation. meditate. and WIN 🥇
all you have to do is realize something and have the right discernment and judgement. crumble what doesn’t serve you even if it’s chaotic. bond with the right people and go to/make genuine connections. and that can help you unblock something in you to get here.
Five
How to get to your desired reality?
(same question for pile four)
signs - “Just Do it” Nike. Gigi Hadid, Victoria Secret Modeling, Makeup, Pink. Sexy (Red and Black). Red Room. Leather, Black Boots. Blonde Ponytail. Tumblr Feminine Culture. Female Gaze. Fake Friends. Popular Girl Clique. McDonalds. 4 for $4. Song: Pretty Hurts by Beyoncé. Sippy Cup by Melanie Martinez.
okay you ready to see your work that you put in, the time and investment finally make you satisfied. you probably been holding on to some burdens but your ready for a new life a new beginning something fresh. your ready for the heavy book bag to be off your shoulders life to stop kicking your ass and you can innocently walk into something new. you put in the work and your just waiting till the plants grow and you are thriving and the voids are filled. the happiness and everything you want is there. maybe something that you been wanting to start that you been investing in, caring about is something you see as a fulfillment.
you wish you were more abundant, you wish you were more lucky, you wish you were more physically wealthy. you can receive your wants more easily. you wish you were more of a person that receives good karma and fate. you wish you were emotionally stable and mature and looked at the world differently. and were a better and stronger person to achieve and accomplish.
Don’t be afraid to put yourself out there and celebrate. emotionally go forward and connect with people. But be guarded and self assured. start being kind of selfish and more connected back with self. holding on to things valuing things. be more energetic fast and about that action. start moving and starting. start DOING.
you might have body insecurities. you might have insecurities about your luck and fate. insecurities about time. insecurities about your learning abilities, your studies, your goals and ambitions. insecurities about your emotional well-being, your depression, looking on the down side. insecurites about your procrastination, persistentence, and future. your material stability. your plan and progress your path.
685 notes · View notes
uluvjay · 1 year ago
Text
Unexpected- W. Smith
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Will Smith x Hughes! Sister
In which your brothers were not expecting to find a boy in your bed when they came to visit
Warnings?; cursing, anxiety, judgmental brothers, fluff, sorry for any errors!
“Dude just use your key.” Quinn grumbled to Jack as he continued to knock on your apartment door.
“I don’t want to invade her privacy.” Jack huffed.
“She came into our apartment to surprise us that one time.” Luke shrugged reminding his brother of the time they came home to find you on their couch.
“What if she’s like-i don’t know..not decent?” Jack cringed.
“Oh my god-move, I’ll just use mine.” Quinn huffed as he pushed his younger brother out of the way.
The boys had been texting you nonstop attempting to get an answer from you especially after their consistent knocking hadn’t worked and Quinn was tired of waiting.
Jack and Luke played the bruins in two days and having a short gap in his schedule Quinn decided to join his brothers on a surprise visit to their baby sister before he had to return to a hectic season.
Pushing open the sleek door of your apartment they were met with your natural vanilla scent, by the door was your messy shoe rack, umbrellas, coats, your keys on a hook, and hockey sticks-wait, why the hell would you have that many hockey sticks?
“Why does she hav-ow what the?” Luke began but was cut off as his foot came into contact with a hefty hockey bag and he went stumbling forward.
“Umm..why the hell is there usa hockey bag in her entryway?” Jack questioned, looking between his brothers with a raised eyebrow.
“The fuck are you asking us for?” Quinn spoke quietly.
“Why are you whispering?”
“Because you dumbass her keys are here, which means she’s probably sleeping still.” Quinn replied.
The boys looked around your apartment a bit more, keeping quiet as they walked through the living room area and kitchen.
Jack and Quinn knew the layout well as this was their graduation gift towards you, they felt unsafe with you living on campus and despite your protests when you opened the box revealing keys, you had been living here since the fall.
“Uh guys..there’s a gold medal on her living room table.” Luke choked.
“What?” Jack asked as he rushed in from the kitchen.
Meeting his brothers in the living room his eyes met the good medal that was in fact sitting pretty in the middle of your coffee table.
“Usa bag, sticks, and a gold medal? Shes dating one of the Bc guys that just won at world juniors. She has to be.” Luke laughed looking up at his older brothers.
Jack was the first to take off down the hall and towards your cracked bedroom door, both defensemen following closely behind him.
Quietly pushing your door open they found you asleep on your back, a Boston college hockey shirt on, thank god Jack thought.
And on your chest was a head of blonde curls, one of your hands resting on the boys shoulder peacefully while one of his arms was thrown around your waist.
Retreating to your living room the three men huddled together.
“He looks familiar.” Jack spoke up.
“His name is will something, he just got drafted.” Luke confirmed remembering his face from the draft.
“It’s Will smith. He went fourth overall to the sharks.” Quinn spoke showing his brothers the boy’s Instagram page.
“What do we do now?” Luke questioned, not sure where they should go from here.
“We wait.” Jack smirked and moved to make himself comfortable on your large sectional.
-
A little over an hour later they heard soft voices coming from your room, quite good mornings and the sound of lips connecting.
“Breakfast?” They heard you question and will confirm with a soft yeah.
Making your way out of your bedroom and down the hall you felt your heart drop into your stomach and a scream escape at the sight of three large figures sat on your couch.
“What the hell are you doing here!?” You shrieked once you realized it was your brothers.
“Came to see you, why? Is there something your hiding from us?” Jack smirked as his eyes dropped from you to gold medal on your table and back to you.
You followed his eyesight and worry filled you as you remembered that your boyfriend, who was fresh out of Sweden had all of his things here, the boyfriend your brothers also have no idea about.
“Shit. J-just give me a second.” You groaned as you turned around and pushed a curious Will back into your room before shutting the door.
“Everything okay?” He questioned as the noticeable worry etched on your face.
“My brothers are here.” You spoke quietly.
“Your brothers? As in all three?” Will asked.
“Yep.” You spoke popping the ‘p’ before continuing.
“Came to surprise me, turns out they were a bit more surprised when they found all of your usa stuff.” You laughed.
“Wh-what uh, what are we going to do?” He coughed.
It’s not that Will was necessarily scared of your brothers, he’d already met your parents and talked to your dad regularly about hockey. But brothers are different, especially your brothers. You four have a bond he’s never seen before and the protectiveness they have over you is strong.
“You’re going to have to come out and meet them.” You shrugged.
“Right now?”
“No tomorrow at four. Yes right now will! They’re literally sitting in my living room waiting.” You spoke.
“Okay.” He breathed.
“Okay?”
“Yeah, let’s do this” he nodded confidently.
“I love you and you know I wont let them kill your right?” You laughed as you took his cheeks into your hands.
“I know, I love you too.” He smiled and you placed a light kiss on his lips before turning around and leading him into your living room.
To say the sight In front of him wasn’t intimidating wouldn’t be a lie, despite being around the same height as all three men their broody stance snd interrogating stares had will feeling a bit nervous.
The three nhl stars were dressed in all black, hoodies, joggers, and beanies as they stood around the living room table looking Will up and down.
“Boys this is my boyfriend Will, Will these are my brothers, Jack, Quinn, and Lukey.” You smiled.
Despite the circumstances you were happy to have your brothers here and it felt good to be back in their presence.
“It’s nice to meet you.” Will smiled as he reached a hand out.
All three looked at his hand but Quinn was the first to move in and shake it, locking wills hand in a tight grip.
The other two followed after Quinn, their grips just as if not tighter around Wills hand. You could see the gears turning in Luke’s head and that soon questions would be flying out left and right, and before you started to answer them you needed food.
“Why don’t we talk over breakfast? There’s an amazing place down the street.” You suggested and thankfully everyone agreed to a nice meal.
-
Forty-five minutes later you were all gathered at a table at the small restaurant down the road, coffees in your brothers hands while you and Will both chose a nice glass of Oj.
“So” Quinn coughed, “how’d you two meet?”
“Izzy is dating his friend Ryan, they introduced us and we hit it off pretty well so we exchanged numbers and went on a few dates. The rest was history after that.” You smiled.
Izzy was your best friend from back home, the boys knew her so well she was practically another sister to them and she was a big contributor to your decision to come to Boston college instead of Umich.
“Hmm, where’d you take her for the first date?” Luke spoke up.
“Mini golf, got my ass kicked though. Didn’t realize someone could be so good at it.” Will laughed at the memory.
“Y/n is an amazing golfer, she does it quite a bit over the summers.” Jack nodded.
“Best in the family i’d say.” You smirked.
“Okay don’t get ahead of yourself now.” Luke scoffed.
“So you’re a sharks prospect right?” Jack asked.
“Uh yeah, they drafted me this past spring.” Will smiled.
The questions kept up until the food came, but they began to get more relaxed and generic after a while. The boys began to asked will more about school and how it was a world juniors and soon they were all sharing laughs.
“You know, that wasn’t really the way I wanted to find out my baby sister had a boyfriend but you’re a cool kid Will.” Quinn smiled.
“Thank you, she’s amazing. Out my league really.” Will blushed as you elbowed him in his side.
“That’s true, but as long as you treat her right and make her happy then we like you.” Jack spoke softly.
“But don’t think we won’t flatten your ass out on the ice if you ever hurt her.” Luke smirked.
Will nodded with a winded expression and and awkward silence crowded the table before the ringing of Quinn’s phone broke through.
“Oh, it’s mom.” He smirked right at Will and it took everything in you to hold down your laugh.
“Hey mom!” He greeted her warmly.
“Hi sweetie, just checking if you got into your sisters.” She spoke.
“Oh yeah we got in, found quite the surprise to.” Jack laughed.
“Oh really? What happened.”
Quinn turned the screen around to show your mother Will and while they were all expecting her to freak out their expressions dropped the second they heard her voice.
“Will! How are you doing honey?” She asked excitedly.
“I’m good Mrs. Hughes, how about you.” Your boyfriend smiled.
“Oh I told you to knock that Mrs. Hughes off! I’m good though honey thank you for asking.” She smiled.
“Let me find Jim really fast, he’ll want to say hi.” Your mother spoke up.
You released a giggle at the shock and confusion that was written on your brother’s faces. Their eyebrows were all pulled together as they shared a look of confusion.
“Will! How are you buddy.” Your father greeted.
“I’m good Jim, how about you?”
“I’m good son, my boys haven’t given you and my girl any trouble have they?”Your father questioned.
“No, it’s been okay.” Will laughed.
The conversation kept up for a moment but your mother ultimately decided to hang up when Jack kept whining about her not telling them you had a boyfriend.
“I can’t believe they knew!” He groaned.
“I told them first, wanted to make sure they liked him.” You shrugged.
“This is unbelievable.” He pouted and that’s how the rest of your day continued until your mom apologized and offered to bake him his favorite homemade goods the next time she visited.
-
1K notes · View notes
jolalibrary · 8 months ago
Text
meet me in the city where we won't sleep
javier peña x f!reader | main masterlist
Tumblr media
summary: home: a place where we feel most comfortable, loved, and protected — where we most feel at home. except javi, who has returned from colombia and feels his home is living miles away.
childhood besties!javi x f!reader
wordcount: 9k (i'm so sorry)
warnings: childhood best friend!javi. flirting. 18+ - although just a little smutty with fingers. brief mention of drunkenness years ago. emotions (ugh) and feelings (yuk) and idiots who just don't wanna confess things but really should. javi calls you flor and you call him a pineapple. alternating times.
an: originally started for april showers, it's taken me an age to get this done because i wanted it to be perfect. i really hope it is. the biggest thank you to @thetriumphantpanda who read all of this and gave me a gold star. it would have stayed in my drafts if not for you. thank you to @rhoorl for checking my spanish.
Tumblr media
It would have been cliche to say he fell for you in a field of bluebonnets—your dress white, face glum, hands ripping up blooms from the soil that you clutched in your hand.
Lost, aimless, both in the blue of the petals and in your thoughts as you continued to yank stems up and bring bunches to your nose, unaware of him watching from the tree. His legs swung, and a smile slid into one cheek as the leaves rustled above in the warm breeze.
It took a while before you noticed him, practically half a field’s worth in your hands, hands wound around them as your dress swished at your ankles.
“What do you want, Piña?”
He supposed, for kids, that was an insult.
“What you doing in my field, Flor?”
Javi didn’t know your name then. Now he struggled to go a minute without thinking it.
Tumblr media
Sitting still hadn’t seemed a possibility in the days since he’d been back.
And then, that’s all he’d done for the last eight hours before he was greeted by rain.
It’s relentless, an onslaught that blurs the world into a watery haze. The kind that soaks through every layer of clothing like a challenge; the type that drips from everything, making pools in the streets and turning them into dark mirrors, reflecting the grey and full clouds from above.
Not that Javi cares.
If anything, he likes it. Finds it cleansing, like the world is being washed clean, even if he knows how untrue that actually is as his eyes follow a bead rushes across the glass of the cab.
The driver has been mumbling about the weather for the entire journey—a thing he’s barely listened to since he’d recommended waiting for a break in the weather. It was likely they just didn’t wish to drop him where he’d described, rather hoping Javi would opt for someplace warmer, most likely smokier, so that he could call it a day too.
Javi doesn't do that now—smoking, that is.
Hasn’t done since he left that apartment that never felt like his, in a city that he’d spent years in that never felt like home. Threw them in the trashcan before his Pop had picked him up, craved and wanted all the way through dinner. He’d done it once, he’d do it again.
When the cab screeches to a halt, he pays, steps out (bag in hand) and spots the phone booth all in one fluid motion. It’s barely lit, front weathered by time and neglect. Smirk curling into his cheek as he remembers you telling him about it—that on cloudless days you can see it, likes to make stories about it as you enjoy a meal-for-one or crunches down cereal.
It hadn’t been a thing he’d thought much about.
Then, it was all he had thought about.
Standing there, making a story that could become real. A gesture, kind and deserving of someone who had put up with his shit since they were children. You’d always liked those big moments in the movies—his eyes glancing over at you, finding yours big, wide and shimmering with tears that wish to glide down your cheek.
Although, that had been well over a decade ago—the two of you had remained in touch, close, or as much as he could allow. Your visit to Colombia had still felt like the sunniest day, a bright spot in a sea of dark; a day that coloured his world in shades he hadn’t known existed, that dulled the moment he’d had to bid farewell at the airport.
It hadn’t been safe for you to do another, pleading in fact to not risk it. A thing, he suspects, is not a thing he’s been easily forgiven for.
He supposes it’s why he hasn’t told you he was coming. The flight had been booked, bag packed—fingers tapping, soul hoping you wouldn’t turn him away once he’d gotten here. To the phone box over the bridge from your place—the one obscured from view by the downpour that seemed never-ending.
Because, as soon as two weeks had racked up at him being home, he found himself itching to move, to be somewhere other than surrounded by fields and the watchful stare of his Pop. Parental worry a hard thing to hide from in a home washed in memories.
Sliding open the door, cramming himself into the booth, Javi had no concern about remembering your number. It was burned into him, etched into him with a blunt tool—almost studied, committed to memory while he ticked over godfathers and the weight of right and wrong.
He remembers when you’d changed it, when your voice informed him of the move, the chance—all excited tone, a pitch closer to a squeak than your voice: no more roommates, just me, myself and I.
He also remembers the ember inside of him pleased that Tom joined the underserving list, slid under Mia and Rich as you informed him you were single again.
Sliding quarters in, finger punching the numbers—he hopes you’re home. A niggling feeling threatens to unwind inside of him as the tone drills into his skull—attempts to drown out the rain rapping against the glass booth he’s standing in.
“Hello?”
“Flor?”
It kisses his ear, your snort. Light. Sweet. “Javier Piña, what do you want?”
You sound like you did in Colombia. Having half-expected the crackle meeting his ear to be down to the distance, rather than your shoddy home phone.
Pressing the receiver to his head, a smile there—desperate to flow out across his lips and exhausted face, he moves it back. “Tal vez te extrañé.”
“Mierda. I don’t believe you.”
Even amidst the noise of passing cars and the relentless drumming of raindrops, he catches the melody of your laughter—a symphony of joy that unravels a part of his soul. It releases it, unlocks it, beckons it to be free—metaphorically makes him release his shoulders, and take a breath. The part of him hidden away, floods back through him—no longer fearful of being taken, clawed or wormed from him as he handed other parts of himself to the job, the task, the goal.
Not you, though. Javi would never surrender you.
A pocket of sunshine he’d kept close to him like your chicken-scratch letters and your tipsy phone calls when he’d caught you coming in after a night with friends.
“Where are you, Piña?”
Wiping his mouth with his thumb, he pauses. Traces his index along the hair growing above his lip, glancing out through the rain-smeared glass, the one cracked in places. Not sure if any of the lights on the other side are hers, but lingering on each just in case.
“In a phone booth on a bridge…”
He hears you swallow, loud, almost difficult.
“…right across from your place.”
“Shut the fuck up.” Smirking, teeth nibbling at his bottom lip. “Are you lying to me?”
Smirking, he stares out again. “No.”
Because he couldn’t, not if he tried. Not just because you see through it, but because it wounds him to do so. Picks at him, and makes him bleed in ways that don’t ruin him in scarlet.
“Give me five minutes.”
The call ends before he can get in a bye.
The receiver placed back, bag straps cutting into his palms again as he exits, the heavens lashing against him as he slowly walks. Taking his time. Nervousness bubbling like a broth inside of him with each step, coming up to the top curve of the bridge, trying to look up, spot you—
Then he does.
Running, coat billowing behind—flapping in the wind as it breaks out over your face: that smile. The one that lit fires inside of him, the one first doing so at the time his bedroom at home had its last lick of paint, it now peeling, cracked.
Dropping his bag, Javi isn’t sure whether to brace or not—taking three more steps forward before you collide with him. Arms around him, chest to chest, your wet cheek sliding past his as your soaked clothes marry to his.
It would be odd to say it felt like home hugging you, but it does. It feels right, safe—a piece completing him as he digs his chin into your head.
“You smell the same,” you muffle into his chest.
Javi smiles, knowing the bottle on his dresser is the one from his younger years. Sun-ruined and likely faded, yet managing to linger on his skin enough to cause recollection.
Tumblr media
Pushing past lilies, excusing himself through swarms of bodies adorned in black fabric, Javi found you sitting cross-legged between two tall stands of flowers.
Your eyes were puffy—red, swollen—and your dress was as black as his suit; your fingers were balled around a single lily and a scrunched-up tissue, the skirt of your dress skated over your bent knees.
“What d-do you want, Piña?”
But it didn’t land with the tone he had come to know.
Instead, he extended a hand you thankfully took, pulling you up from the ground before he opened his arms—letting you move in, slot yourself between them as they enveloped you close.
Letting his best friend fall apart at the back of the church, your sobs vibrated against his bones and his chin rested on your head as he whispered he had you, over and over again.
A thing you repaid when his mother passed a few years later.
Tumblr media
Talking had always been a skill—unless he had to discuss feelings.
It wasn’t that it was easy to lie, or that he found the idea of feeling difficult—if anything, it was as though he felt too much. Guilt. Affection. Righteousness. Protection. Each one a little harder to carry, to wear.
More so around you. The walls had to be tighter, or they’d crumble into ruin, the dust spilling all his secrets before he’d confess whatever wasn’t already written over his face. But, you don’t needle him—instead, you make him a plate from leftovers, tell him about some gossip your mom had informed you of, until you offer him your shower, your sofa and bid him goodnight.
“You’ll be here in the morning?”
“Not going anywhere.”
Lingering in the doorway to your bedroom, fingers playing the piano on the wood. “You’ve said that before.”
He knows he has.
It rises up in him like a storm, whipping around his organs, making his chest tighten as he lies down in comfort but stares up at the unfamiliar. He can hear the rain, how it pitters and patters—how it likely streams down the windows behind your curtains.
He should find it odd that he'd rather fall asleep here, than in his bed back where he grew up. A strange solace in the unknown here, a quiet surrender to the whispers he usually has to hear when the night comes.
But, they're not here.
At some stage, he must sleep, before he wakes to the scent of coffee and soft sunshine. His ears catch the sound of you calling in sick—a cough, a put-on voice, one all removed when you throw a throw cushion at him and ask him what he wants for breakfast.
That’s how he finds his knee kissing yours under the small table as your spoon scoops cereal before letting it drop back into the bowl. Just like when you were kids. Just like when you were all excitable, too in a rush to sit for a moment, stomach likely fluttering with agitation.
“You keep staring.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Flor.”
The thing is, you’re not wrong.
Each time he has a second, he lingers—gazes. Metaphorically pinching himself as he forgoes digging a nail into his skin under the cuff of his shirt, just to make sure he isn’t dreaming. A thing he finds he’s doing now, after a night of laughing until you couldn’t keep your eyes open and a full day of exploring, you walk a little ahead before spinning on your heel to smile at him.
“I have to show you my favourite place—before you go.”
He hates that there’s an end date on this. Bought himself a few days of normal, before returning to something that feels anything but.
Scratching his jaw, brows raised and eyes wide. “You’ve replaced our spot?”
Rolling your eyes, you take his hand—fingers slotting, palm pressing against his. For a moment, a reflex, he thinks of pulling away. Thinking of what else sat as perfectly in his palm as you—a thing that took, but never gave. A thing that he held more than he had ever held a woman.
“My favourite place here.”
He expects a lot of things, maybe flowers, maybe a bar, but he finds himself inside a bookshop. One with floor-to-ceiling shelves, dark wood, the large window letting in light that barely reaches the back. He supposes it’s good they have a chandelier, one that sparkles, shines—like it’s as well maintained as the shelves.
“Books?”
“Books.”
Your finger prodding into him, facing him, body fully twisted. That smile there, the one which slides into one of your cheeks and makes his eyes flick from it to your eyes and then back.
It’s there when you turn on your heel down an aisle, it remaining when he follows—when he hovers close, so easily able to pin you, cage you in between his palms.
“Which do you recommend?”
Shooting him a look, you trail your finger over spines, over the shelf they sit on. “Didn't know you could read?”
“Funny.”
Grinning, you pull on one, handing it to him. His eyes take it in, the cover, the name, the author.
“I think you’ll like the characters,” you explain, eyes lighting up as you lean. “They're flawed but resilient.”
Chewing his cheek, he swallows. Listening, hearing you read the blurb after you lift the book in his hands so you can read it, word for word as he focuses on you. Noticing the way your eyes shine when talking about something you love, the way one of your hands begins to move as you describe the plot, and the characters. Realising, that he could listen to you talk about anything all day.
“You should read it,” you suggest, as he flips through the pages. Having never been much of a reader, time being a factor, his job has been the reason.
“Alright,” he nods, tucking the book under his arm. “I'll read it.”
Your smile brightens even more if that's possible.
“Chucho is gonna be so shocked when I tell him you bought a book.”
Frowning, he follows you, leading him down another aisle. “You talk to my pop?”
Shrugging, like it’s nothing. Like the words that are about to tumble out of your mouth don’t matter like they won’t stitch themselves to him and make him feel like pulling you to his chest.
“I check in—make sure he’s okay. Done it weekly since you left the first time.”
His face falls, descends slowly. He feels it—watches you take it in as yours slowly mirrors him. And, even if he’s been thinking it, it bubbling at the back of his throat, he finds himself unable to stuff it back down—to shove it between other regrets and unsaid words.
“I’ve really missed you.”
Each word lands, your eyes widening as your nose does a little twitch as they do, before you whisper, resting against the edge of a bookcase, “I’ve missed you too.”
Tumblr media
Sat on the rock, the sound of a car door slamming disturbed the peace. Not needing to look, knowing that gait, that little kick of the ground as you stopped in front of him.
Hand shielding your eyes from the sun, flower tucked behind your ear.
“Hello, Flor.”
“Piña. Heard you were cursing Laredo.”
Smirking, you sat next to him, nudging him over. The two perched on a rock overlooking part of the city—as his head turned but his eyes stared at you from the corner of them.
“I give it a month and someone else will do something bad enough that people cross the street.”
Swallowing, he exhaled. “Thanks.”
“Did you love her?”
Turning his head, staring at you—eyes flicking from yours to a place on your face he shouldn’t look. “Not enough to marry her.”
“Then you did the right thing.”
A thing he only believed when your hand slid over his, hooking your little finger over his.
“It’s because you’re in love with me, isn’t it?”
Snorting, head shaking, your words washed back over him and he broke into a laugh. “Shut up, Flor.”
Nudging him, taking the flower from your hair and handing it to him. “It’s okay if you do, I know I’m a catch.”
Tumblr media
He's embarrassed that it isn't until the second day that Javi finds the chance to really admire your place.
How it’s exactly what he imagined. So very you, all cosy, muted, with spots of colour. Plants and throw cushions, blankets and wicker baskets stuffed with things he suspects you have no recollection of.
What catches his eyes are the photographs, the memories frozen in time around your walls and on shelves. His eyes sweep over them, in a trance still from the scent of your perfume mixing with vanilla from a lit candle.
Each time he sweeps his sight over, he spots new things, remembering brief conversations, smirking to himself until his eyes land on a frame that makes his mouth part and his heart clench.
Him and you; you and him. Sunglasses far too big for your face, staring up at him as he beams at the camera. The backdrop of his ranch, his home, the one he so often left behind like it hadn’t mattered.
Done it weekly since you left the first time.
The words roll around his head now. All metal and round, bouncing against other thoughts, trying to dig his heels into the present and not wonder about what kind of calls you make—whether they’d be about him, whether you’d confess things you’d never admit to him.
Your clanging around is what pulls him to the present. The bangs of cupboards and pans clattering as he stares at it—as he notices how different his build is, how many years have passed. The occasional cursing from you is a rather nice anchor that keeps him in the present.
“Flor?” He waits until he hears you hum. “Order in again, I’ll pay.”
It’s here within the hour.
A favourite, you had told him. A quick apology that you’ll be messier than last night, that you’re dying of hunger. He reminds you he doesn’t care. Not as you slide the triangle slice out, the tip kissing your chin before it’s absorbed by your mouth, sauce lingering on your lips—dust from the crust resting on your nose.
He’s not sure what’s better, the taste of the pizza or the sight of watching you. Having the chance to watch you.
“So I have to ask.”
Grumbling, he pulls at the topping on his slice. “Here we fucking go.”
“Did you like the tie I sent you?”
Half-scowling, swallowing the mouthful of pizza—recalling the box on his desk, atop files and paperwork with a note attached: One down, three to go. Written in that same handwriting he could spot in a lineup—the one he had wished there and then would be etched into him, a mark left, a thing he could brush his thumb over when his heart ached and he felt lost.
“I was disappointed not to see you photographed in it.”
“You knew damn well I wasn’t going to wear a fucking pineapple tie to a press conference.”
Pouting, you smirk. Picking at another slice, staring up at him from the floor, all cross-legged. “Thought you might have for me.”
It’s there, ebbing—words that feel far more intimate than they should—crystallising, burning upon his tongue.
I’d do anything for you.
It’s there, unwritten, pulsating and breathing in the space between you and him, existing, never diminished. Memories where it’s been all but similar rising like lava, singeing him, threatening to burn away the walls he throws up for the sake of friendship.
Because he knows what people think. Saw it hung in his pop’s eyes at his Tia’s wedding when you came as a guest, an uninvited plus one that was welcomed like you were already part of the family. Heard it, in the wind between the grass before he’d left the first time, a farewell outdoor thing, your parents crestfallen, as though they’d assumed—like he imagined a lot of them—the two of you would have figured it out by now.
Watching you stand, hand outstretched for his plate, you take it with a smile. A shout of two options for drinks, an unsurprising one chosen by him—it bubbling in the glass when you hand it to him, settling in beside him.
“Not sure I told you, but you have a nice couch.”
“Most expensive thing in this place—probably better than my own bed,” you smirk, sipping your drink. Head rolling towards him, brows raised, eyes that bit wider. “So, are you okay?”
You’re the only one who could ask and get a reply, he supposes. Those same words were said to him a handful of times, down the phone from Murphy, over the table from Pop, even on aisles of the supermarket when he’d been staring between brands he hadn’t heard of.
“I gave you a day to tell me, and since you won’t, I’m gonna ask. Are you okay, Javier Peña?” you continue, body shifting, thigh pressing against his—heat radiating from between yours to his. “Because you’re methodical. You’re not… get on a plane and fly to a different city just because.”
“You not happy I’m here?”
Grinning, all teeth—it reaching and hanging in your eyes. “Los más felices. But, are you?”
Yes. It’s all he thinks.
Chewing his tongue, his eyes drop to his soda because he’s unsure how to say that. Not as he watches the bubbles float up and burst—the song that had been playing coming to a stop, allowing the rain to play an interval against your windows.
It doesn’t make sense, in some ways: how he’s kept you—been able to keep you close. Somehow not ruined you, twisted this thing between the two of you, made it rot, sullied it with disappointment and selfishness.
“I am now,” he replies.
Good, you breathe. Letting it sit, simmer. Paper over any cracks as your eyes sparkle and remain fixed on him, tracing him as though not completely sure he’s real.
That is, until you grab the remote, excitedly telling him about the night of television they have ahead of them. A blanket, at some stage, finds itself over him, you nestling into his side—like when they were teens before the world became a problem and narcos were all he hunted.
For a while, you catch him up, explain plots and characters. Then, you fall silent, brows crinkled in concentration. His eyes slide to the side to watch, to spot the little things you do as she settles in closer, brings your legs up, and rests almost all of yourself against him.
Between one show and another, he feels the rhythm of your breathing change, your body relaxing further against him. He glances down and finds your eyes closed, features soft and serene in sleep. Realisation dawns on him—you’ve fallen asleep. His heart does a slow tumble in his chest, a wave of warmth spreading through him. All of a sudden aware of the gentle weight of you against his side, the way your hand is loosely holding onto him. He watches, just for a moment, taking in the sight of you, so peaceful and trusting in your sleep. This moment is so intimate, so precious, he wants to freeze it in time.
What else is a guy like you gonna do…
This, he thinks. Looking at you, asleep, peaceful—curled into his side, fingers around his forearm.
Smiling, he takes the remote from your fingers, turning the volume down as he gets more comfortable—pressing a soft kiss to your hairline.
Tumblr media
He carried a single red rose down the side of your house—nudging open the window the rest of the way, climbing in like he had done years ago.
He didn’t need eyes, didn’t fancy having to explain to his parents how he could do that to that nice girl and her family. Javi had faced enough judgement, enough stares.
The only eyes he wanted were staring at him, remaining so as he stepped close and handed you the flower with the thorns picked free. “Come with me.”
Sighing, eyes averting, you swallowed loudly in the thick quietness. “You don’t want that. Your best friend following you.”
Eyes flicking up to meet his, you took another deep breath. Fingers flexed at your side, weight shifting from one foot to the other before you exhaled—louder than before.
“I don’t want to follow you, best friend.”
Then don’t be just that, he thought, thumb swiping over the tips of his fingers as he hovered, waited. Then he took a step closer, and another. The gap closed, becoming shorter and shorter—
“What are you doing, Piña?”
“Kissing you.”
Lips pursing, trying not to smirk, you took the rose and put it on your dresser. “Don’t feel your lips on mine, Javier.”
And then he kissed you, his fingers clutching at your jaw—body pressed against yours, tasting your whine, your moan.
He felt your fingers clutch at his shirt as he told you to be quiet.
Laid you on your bed of flowers, knees digging into stitched roses and sunflowers, as you arched off the bed when his fingers slid between your thighs—like he wished he’d done a handful of times before now.
Tumblr media
He’s not sure of the time when he wakes, but it’s dark.
A contentedness in his bones that doesn’t fade as he begins to blink, as he takes in his surroundings and remembers where he is. Feeling you, warm, pressed as close against him as humanly possible. Able to see the outline of you, before his eyes manage to paint the rest, how his knee has slotted between your legs—bodies a mess of limbs that takes him back to years ago.
Javi notices how the television is switched off as you try to move, to wiggle and escape. His shirt discarded, the cool air misting over him, pebbling his skin as he slides his arm around you, pinning you tighter to him.
Brain all addled with dreams and sleep, as his awakening state tries to remind him what he’s doing.
What door he’s trying to open all over again.
“Javi…”
Not Piña, Peña or Javier. Javi, all soft and whispery, like honey dripping into his ear as he turns his head to find your stare in the dark. Somehow finding it shimmering, fixed, more than awake.
Then you whisper his name again, and it’s heavenly, a piece of it anyway. A sound he realises he’s missed more than he cares to find words to describe as he hears you push out a breath—fingers finding his arm, stroking, sliding their warmth up and down the muscle of his arm as he swallows.
It’s slow, hand cupping your cheek as he shifts his body, and finds yours moves with him. The beginning of a partner dance, one it feels you’ve both practised in small spaces but never actually have as he slides his lips over yours. Moulds them to yours. Tasting faint mint on your tongue when you deepen it—when you pay attention, listen, taking each cue you give him from the movement of your mouth to the way your hands grasp at him to come closer.
A whimper tries to break through, to escape through messy kisses and tangled bodies, but it vibrates through him. Makes him shudder with how much he wants you, moving your knee, hooking it over his hip as he slots his waist between your thighs and you gasp at the feel of him flush against you.
Practically whine.
Nose brushing your cheek, palm flat, fingers spreading out over your hip as he feels you roll your body into him, he smiles—breathy, teeth nipping at his bottom lip. “Forgot how soft you are.”
You hum, head-turning, mouth latching itself back to his.
“Forgot how good of a kisser you are.”
Snorting, he lightly bites your lower lip. “Best remind you then.”
“Best do,” you whisper, pulling him by his hair back to your mouth.
You write a poem against his lips, signing it with your tongue against his as his fingers snake under the band of your sleep shorts, tasting your moan, your hiss and whimper when he touches you like he’s wanted to since he landed back in the States.
When two fingers slide slowly inside of you, curling, the sound of his name is like a fucking sin he wants to be draped in, wrapped in, even dressed in. Him seeking, searching, finding that spot that has your legs opening for him, nails scraping against his scalp.
“More, Javi. Please—”
“You’re so tight, Flor,” he croons, burying the words in your neck, the tip of his tongue swiping over your collarbone as you grab a handful of his hair. “Feel so good around my fingers.”
Your hips writhe, roll them against his hand, gasping. Making a mess, dripping, practically gushing over his hand, as he fights pulling his hand free and getting a taste.
“Be better—dios mio—around your cock—”
Smirking, teeth nipping at your neck, “I remember.”
Head lifting, thankful the night sky is clear, that the moon is draping you in a slither of milky light so he’s able to see your eyes flutter shut. Able to witness what his fingers do to you, the effects of their teasing and the languid movements as he finds that angle, the one which makes you grind against his palm, and has your chest heaving.
He moans your name against your tongue, drinking down a blend of pleases falling from your swollen lips as he plunges deeper, walls squeezing him.
There he thinks, lips pressing kisses to your shoulder, as you dig your nails further into his scalp, tensing, bearing down on him to the point he hopes you’ll leave a mark, leave a cut, a signature of this moment he can run his fingers over.
“Kiss me,” you gasp, all wrapped in desperation as you pull at his shoulder.
His mouth only just pressing to yours when your cry buries against his tongue, when you flutter and arch as he continues to work you through it. His name breaks through messy kisses, it escaping effortlessly like it doesn’t wish to be buried anymore.
You don’t let him pull away, hooking one leg around him. Watching, not able to take your eyes from him as he retracts his hand—as he licks your pleasure from his fingers and you stare with a twinkle in your eye.
“You best fuck me now.”
Smirking, a low laugh escaping. “Yeah? Want me that bad, Flor?”
Lifting onto your elbows, he waits for a taunt, a tease—something that’ll bring him down a peg or two. What he finds, instead, is your fingers slowly crawling up his bare chest, around his neck, your chin tilted up.
“I need you, Javi. Need you to fuck me.”
“Yeah?”
“And then I wanna get on top,” you whisper, dragging each syllable out, “and fuck you until the sun comes up.”
Tumblr media
“Murphy is a nice guy.”
Eyes narrowing, he shot you a glare—watching as you shimmied your jacket from your shoulders. Bare arms, bare legs—except for the thin tank and shorts adorning your body—that had him thinking un-best friend things.
“You jealous, Piña?”
“Of a married guy? Fuck no.”
Grinning, you moved closer—boxing him in. Staring into his eyes, in a way that made him feel like he was being seen, read, and admired all at once. “Is that because you left a bite mark on my hip?”
Tracing his fingers along your neck, he felt himself smile. That flutter in his chest again, the one which had appeared one day when the two of you were teens and hadn’t gone away since.
“Ask me to stay,” you whispered, hands on either side of him—all boxed in. “Ask me, Javi.”
Running his tongue over the front of his teeth, he raised a hand, knuckles brushing over your cheek. Wanting nothing more. A week gone too quickly. Already feeling the pressure slip back over his muscles, seeping into his bones. But he knew. He pictured it, the things he had nightmares over—even when you were far away, never mind when you were asleep in the room next to his.
“Too dangerous.”
“That it? I can learn—”
“No.”
“No?”
He stared. Thought of the things he had done. The people he had already let down. The things he had let happen to people who deserved far better. It layering, and layering, and layering and—
Nodding, disappointment spread, before it was washed over in acceptance. “What’re we eating?”
Tumblr media
When he wakes, he expects to find you dressed in corporate and apologising in a voice that’s accompanied by a pout at the foot of your bed. The place the two of you found yourself on at 4 am.
Instead, you fake another performance. Earn an Oscar over the phone before switching to the excitable one you present to him when you sit at the foot of the bed.
There’s something there. It hangs in your eyes. A secret, a thing shifted and dislodged now your mask has slipped from the few hours of sleep and the ruining of your sheets.
But he doesn’t ask, because if he does, he fears he’d tell you things in return. Alter the way you see him. Change it, taint it. Practically ruin the man you think he went to be and the one he's returned as.
It'll hurt him if you look at him with disgust. You’ve burnt him after all, left him winded, air knocked from his lungs each time he’s laughed. All but imprinted into his mind, a thing never filed but rather pinned up and forever there, like artwork on a fridge.
“Wanna get a coffee?”
Hands pulling on a pair of jeans, buttoning them as he sees the peaks of your nipples through your white tee. And he knows your face is bare and you're dressed in clothes you just pulled out without thought—yet, you are, as always, the prettiest damn thing he’s ever seen.
A thing he thinks when he showers.
When he smiles as he scrubs the shampoo into his hair, feels the soreness at parts from where your nails had dug in. He doesn't stop beaming when he smears his palm across the glass, takes in his appearance as you open the door, a towel hung low on his hips, eyes dropping down.
“Now who's staring, hermosa.”
“Don’t be a work of art to be admired then.”
He dresses in record time, your hand swinging beside his, so within reach, so easy to grab. But he doesn’t.
None of last night mentioned, even if he knows he’s left bruises on your inner thighs from keeping them apart; even if you've left scratch marks on his shoulders from when you sunk down on him, head thrown back, jaw elongated as he rolled your nipples between his fingers.
Javi doesn't even mention it when he hears you gasp at the taste of your coffee, a noise similar to when he'd licked a stripe up your pussy, when he tasted both you and him.
It was just like in Colombia.
A thing buried, hidden underneath other topics the two of you don’t discuss. Dead parents and a town you both ran from. A thing he almost wants to change, correct, but then you stop outside a flower shop.
The sign battered, peeling. Hidden between two nicer shops, yet the scent made his nose twitch.
“You should buy me flowers.”
“Should I?”
Smirking, teeth biting your lip. “Por lo de anoche.”
Head shaking, he finds himself following anyway. Unable to stop his eyes from falling to the back pocket you shove your phone in, hand reaching, palm pressing to the globe of your ass as he hears the muffled sound of a giggle—
“Piña.”
“Flor,” he whispers, practically breathes it against your neck.
The bubble expands, knowing at some point it’ll pop. Too happy, he thinks. Too settled for a man who has a solo flight back. It’s why he drops his hand, lets you move further in, watching as you scan over already-made bouquets for one he knows you won’t find.
Because they don’t know you. Not like him. There’s not years between you and this shop—this place.
His fingers lightly roll over a stem, staring at the flower, before he has pulled it free from the bucket, and then another, and then another. Not at all a florist—or someone artistic enough to make a bunch—but a person who at least knows you. Knows that in each of the pre-made bundles there’s a flower you dislike, one that’ll remind you of something, someone.
“Here.”
You blink, eyes widening as they move from the bunch in his hand to his face. “Javi…”
“There your—”
“Favourites,” you finish, eye narrowing, lips still parted. “You remembered all my favourites?”
Shrugging, aware of how close he is to real—to something that could shatter, break. A thing he’ll do, just give it time. Feeling it wrap its tendrils around his chest, around his heart, squeezing and squeezing until your hand slips in his. Palm to palm, fingers finding their way between his slowly, cautiously, your eyes not leaving his face as you do.
“Didn’t know my pussy was good enough for flowers, Piña,” you comment, voice low, a smirk there.
“You deserve more than flowers.”
“I’m that good?”
Shaking his head, hand still in yours, he presses a kiss to your forehead, swallowing. “Siempre has sido.”
Tumblr media
“Hello?”
He heard the hiccup, the slur of his name as he smirked against the phone—finger and thumb massaging his forehead as he heard you hiccup again. “Flor?”
“Piña, did you know that I miss you?”
Adjusting the tie around his neck, staring down at the pineapples—the box open, atop a bunch of files, in the office he should have been thankful for. “You sound like you’ve had a good night.”
You howled, the laugh all high-pitched. “Maybe I have—maybe I haven’t. What I do know is that I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“No. I love you.”
Smirking, thumb tracing an outline of one of the pineapples. “You’re drunk.”
“Still love you.”
Swallowing, he let out a heavy exhale.
“You doing okay, mi Piña?”
He wasn’t sure how to answer, how to respond. Head tilting back in his office chair, the ice melted in his whiskey and the hour so late he wondered why you were still up as you extended his nickname out into as many syllables as you could.
“I am now—okay, I mean.”
Tumblr media
It needs to be left alone.
He knows it. Reminds himself of it when it rears its head at every second he doesn't. Because, it doesn't need to be needled, or picked at until it bled.
But, Javi picks at it all the same when you avoid his question again.
His hand slides over his face, index finger tracing a line down his nose as he waits until your laugh fades. Your fork twists the spaghetti round and round, and when it falls, it simply lands on the table between the two of you—the air tinged with the scent of dinner and the flowers from the shop.
“When were you going to tell me you hate your job?”
Your smile shrinks, like the sunlight being muted by the night. Spine straightening, chin lifting. The walls coming down both literally and figuratively, seeing you prepare for war when he’s army-less and unafraid.
“Si significo algo para ti, no lo hagas.”
He snorts, resting on his arm, letting the sheets fall to his waist. Because of course, he cares, and of course, he wants to do this. Balling up the hand beside his hip, seeing the murkiness in your eyes, the joy snuffed out and hidden, as though the hatchets were coming down to protect against his storm.
Javi says your name, softly, honeyed—delicately drip-feeding the air each letter until it’s out there existing.
One by one, it happens. Your eyes avert, chin dipping down; your tongue drags across the front of your teeth and then your arms fold. “I hate my job. Happy? I wanted it so bad—and now I have it, I hate it. I hate going in, I hate doing it. I can’t tell anyone that because it’s all I wanted.”
“It’s okay.”
Snorting, fake smile sketching across your face as your eyes harden to the point they’re brittle. “It isn’t. I left. I turned my back and got as far out of there as I could, and now I’m stuck.”
It breaks him a little.
Seeing it then, the many shards inside of you that you’re trying to keep whole. The pieces that are so worn and tired from doing their best to fit, but struggling to do so.
It’s why he protests that you’re not. He tries to rationalise and says the same words he knows you’d say to him if he called—if he had told you the truth about everything when he was over there. He tries to add kindness to his words as you continue to stare at him like you wish your bed would swallow him whole.
“—You’re saying this like I didn’t say the same thing to you, and you went and did another five years.”
“That’s different.”
“Why?” you spit, standing now, finger pointing and nose flared. “Because your job means more?—”
“No, because I’m a fucking idiot, Flor. You’re not.”
You mutter under your breath, curse him—a blend of poisonous Spanglish that has the heel of his palm pressing against his forehead.
Because it’s like last time.
The words surge up inside of him—except you’re both older now, both carrying more pain and hurt from a world that continues to pile on when bones are already struggling. Walls threw up, keeping him out in all the same ways—except now his mess is also between your thighs, and you aren’t half as good at hiding how his words hurt you.
“Come home with me.”
“I can’t.”
“You can.”
Folding your arms, your head shaking. “I can stick it out—work my way up, it’ll get better—”
“You know it won’t. Know how well that went for me.”
Then you scoff. It blended with razors and sharpened to injure. “No, I don’t. Because you don’t talk about what happened.”
“You read about it.”
“But that’s not your story, Javi. That’s theirs.”
For a moment, he sees it. How hollow you look, how weak, sad and broken. So he repeats it, the request, the offer. Come home with me. But the door shuts, locks, a bolt thrown over.
And everything, all of it, splinters; it doing so before your mouth even opens and he sees what his request has done.
“I’m not coming home just because you’ve decided you want to play happy fucking families, Peña. The world doesn’t stop turning just because you’ve decided to run away, and it doesn’t begin turning again because you’ve come home and decided what you want.”
“That isn’t—”
“You left. You left me.”
“—Flor—”
“—and I asked you to let me stay—when I knew you were hurting. I asked and you said no—”
He whispers your name, broken—like it shatters the moment it greets the air.
“—I wasn’t good enough then. So why am I now?”
Shaking his head, legs flung from under your sheets, he stands—aware he’s half-naked, aware this isn’t the time as you step back.
You shake your head, tears dangling, resistant to fall. “I bet you’re not even staying.”
“I am—”
Head tilting, a crystal tear falling down your cheek, you scoff. Loud. Brutal. “Have you even unpacked? Or did you just get on a plane here?”
Swallowing, Javi rolls his jaw. Fingers flexing at his side, staring, urging himself to find words as his tongue thickens in his mouth. Because he’s staying, he’s staying, he’s staying—
“You’re unbelievable.”
“Flor—”
“Save it.”
The door of your bedroom slamming behind you is the final sound that echoes out between you both.
Tumblr media
It was different.
Hearing you cry down the phone—than when the two of you were younger.
When your first love broke your heart and he lay beside you on sheets covered in stitched flowers. Your head turned to him, the bedroom door open, as you teased your lip between your teeth. The tears had dried, but the rest had still been there, written in markers across your face as you sighed, staring, waiting for him to answer. “What do you want, Piña?” you’d asked, and he’d swallowed that he wanted to punch them.
Now, though, there were miles between the two of you. Distance far more than there had ever been—cities, a whole country.
“I’ll be home soon—can visit you.”
He heard you laugh, it hanging, echoing. “Yeah, yeah.”
“I mean it.”
“You mean a lot of things, Javi.”
“Flor—”
“I wish you'd never kissed me.”
It's a whisper, the way he said your name. It cracked, snapping as it left his tongue.
“I should go shower, early morning and all that.”
He asked you to stay and he heard you sigh.
“What do you want, Piña?”
Swallowing, Javi tapped his fist on the desk—tiredness having crept over him, the last ditch at doing right in Colombia suspended over him. Tell me I’m doing good, that it's worth losing you, Flor. “Have a good day, Flor.”
Tumblr media
It’s weeks.
Eight weeks and four days to be exact.
At some point, it becomes less of a want to get in touch and more of a need not to. Your number is always there on his fingers, but his digits never dialling it when his Pop nips out to go to the store, and he’s left alone with his thoughts and memories in a house stuffed full of them.
Javi doesn’t expect anything else.
Having woke that next morning to find a note attached to the book he had bought: Had to go to work. Have a safe flight. Speak soon—a thing he both hoped and prayed for, even as he nursed a drink on the short flight and chain-smoked at the airport before he did the drive home.
Home.
A thing it felt even less of when he arrived this final time. Pulling his truck into its place, dust swirled and kicked up around him. Staring at the house that hasn’t changed much, just the paint thinning, the sun-dyeing it.
Each day that ticks by, he thinks of you. Each week that’s collected, he fights with himself when he’s sat alone at the dining table about flying back out and apologising.
Because he knows what he did.
Did the same thing back then—assumed and foolishly acted as though your wants never mattered. But they do matter. A thing he rehearses in his head when he’s feeding the animals; a thing he runs over when he’s repairing a door here or a fence there.
One week adds up, then another, and another.
If his Pop thinks things, he doesn’t share them. Just shakes his head occasionally, not asking what is wrong, likely knowing. Suspecting he wears it like the rest of his shame, brightly coloured and decorated in bright lights.
A fool’s outfit, he thinks. A thing he is, a thing he knows. It carved into him at this point. Scratched into the skin and muscle, yet everyone else sees the word hero.
It’s eight weeks and four days when the door of the party opens, the sun streaming in—illuminating the back of a person in a dress adorned with flowers. It takes a second, the condensation on his beer dripping down his wrist as he stares, trying to place the shape and the style of the hair. Not wanting to imagine, not wanting to jump ahead of himself until he hears your mom say your name, all excitable—practically a shriek.
He’s not prepared.
Yet, it’s out of habit he moves.
Like the two of you are magnets, that realised they were supposed to be a pair. The music doesn’t quiet, and the room doesn’t hold its breath, but Javi does—and he suspects you do too.
Just as time comes to a slow stop—the hand in his watch takes an age to flick to the next second as his heart hammers into his ribs. Staring, fingers itching to reach out and ensure you’re not something he’s fabricated, not a mirage from wanting so badly and convincing himself he’d never have it.
“Hi.”
“Hello, Piña.”
It weighs heavy then—clots on his tongue. Almost shapes itself into bile and rests horridly against his tongue as he follows you around, hand close to reaching out to place on your lower back, but stops when he remembers where he is.
Home.
A thing it all of a sudden feels like when you turn your head, lift your chin and stare at him—eyes full of forgiveness, and understanding. “We should talk, right?”
Right, he thinks. Trying to stop the twist in his chest from tightening, trying to stop the dread from filling him and drowning from within. Conversations never go well. A thing he thinks over, and over as his hand strokes over his face, following, one foot after the other, until the warm sun kisses his skin and he finds himself leaning against the side of the building.
“I didn’t come for you.”
He says nothing, not sure if there are any to say.
“I quit. Moved back a week and a bit ago—” your hand comes up to halt him, half-pleading with a tilt and a raise of your eyes. “—and I needed to find things for me, first.”
Folding his arms, he stretches his legs, lets himself elongate, and tries to fill his lungs with air.
“Because I’d have resented you for being right.” Your chin dips, eyes following. “A thing I would do, because you, Javier Peña, know me. And sometimes I really hate that.”
Exhaling, he finds you do the same. Head tilting, lips rolling as you take him in, trace him with your eyes as though you can't quite believe he's real.
“Did you know that every person I’ve been with, it gets to a point where I think ‘Fuck, Javi wouldn’t do this to me’?” Meeting his gaze, you exhale. “And then, no matter how much I felt for them, it goes.”
“Flor…”
Swallowing, you offer the smallest smile. “It’s never gone for you, though. Not when you left. Not when you came back, and left again. Not eight weeks ago when I should have asked you to stay.”
Tongue sticking, flat against the roof his mouth, he grabs your hand—holds it. Runs his thumb over the knuckles as you avert your eyes.
“I live in Laredo now, further north. Did you know I’m so good at what I do, people seek me out?” you say, beaming, letting him pull you closer. “Think they’d have cloned me if I’d asked for it.”
Dragging his knuckles down your cheek, he’s unable to stop the way it flares up in him—that joy, that ember of happiness—when you smile.
“Because I don’t think I find the idea of being yours that terrible—”
“That so?”
Shaking your head, fingers playing with the buttons on his shirt, he watches your smile falter—just for a moment. “Don’t do this, if you’re going to up and leave again, Javi. Because I’d have died happily not telling you what I feel for you.”
“Not doing it again to you.”
“Okay. Then,” you sigh, sliding your arms around his neck, his hands finding a home on your waist. “Well, I guess I should tell you that I really like your moustache.”
“Just really like?” he teases, swaying you as you purse your lips together.
“Fine. I love it.”
Smiling, walking you back until your back meets the wooden railings. “I love that you love it.”
Rolling your eyes, forehead meeting his chest, he feels the laugh roll through you. Rumbling.
“You owe me flowers.”
Snorting, he rests his chin on your head. “I’ll buy you a field, Flor.”
“That’s a good start.”
Thought so, he thinks. Wrapping his arms around you, keeping your head against him, rocking you, like he's wished to do so many times before now.
Home now feeling right.
683 notes · View notes
imfoive · 3 months ago
Text
Wished We Never Met
Seungmin x Reader (fem.) Genre: First Love-Second Chance Romance au!, Friends-to-Lovers, Angst, unrequited love, hint of Fluff Warnings: mentions of drinking, cursing, death by accident, somewhat proofread WC: 4.8k A/N: Found the draft to this old fic of mine, I loved writing it then so had to rewrite now for old times’ sake.😔 (sorry jeongin agsgsgs) Feedback, Reblogs, Likes are greatly appreciated! Happy reading! ── MASTERLIST
Tumblr media
────────────────────────
The reception hall glimmered under the fancy chandelier lights, the thrum of soft music creating a comfortable, yet exciting atmosphere. One by one, elegantly dressed friends and family took to the floor, their heartfelt speeches making everyone shed tears. Celebrating the union of the two lovers.
Yet amidst the joy, the bride’s best friend sat in a daze. His teeth gnawed at the inside of his cheek, leg trembling slightly. From the nerves. From the whirlwind of emotions that he had mastered to hide.
All he wanted was to escape, to flee this beautiful venue and not look back at the bright lights and romantic ambiance that suddenly felt suffocating.
But he couldn’t. Not when his best friend cast that soft, knowing gaze in his direction, her eyes glistening as she listened to her mother’s speech, well wishes that made her eyes prick with happy tears she quickly brushed away.
And so, all he could do was stare.
He hated the way she smiles. The way her mouth parts into that toothy grin, lips curving, cheeks rising. Her eyes crinkling, sparkling with joy. He hated the sound of her laughter, its vibrations just enough to tug at anyone’s heartstrings.
His heartstrings. 
Again. Her twinkling gaze was something he hated, the way her eyes always lightened up when she looked at the man she met two years ago at some book signing.
The man that she claimed was the love of her life.
He hated it. He hated him. But he wished he was him.
   “—Seungmin.”
The way she whispered his name, her fingers grazing his hand as if it meant nothing to her but everything to him, was what he hated the most. Making his heart race with loud beats he was sure she would hear if it was quiet enough. The thrumming in his chest, the hot sensation that surged through his entire body, from just her gentle stare he swore he hated, was enough for him to push away all those negative thoughts.
   “Good luck, I love you.” 
Those words lose their magic when he has to stand before a crowd she had invited. When he had to express all the wonderful things he could say about her and her new husband. 
He looked at her, at her groom. And the lies came out all too easily, a facade of smiles, a mask of happiness. 
Because he could never bring himself to say “I wish we never met.” 
“I wish we weren’t friends."
“I wish…she would have chosen me.”
Those words stay lodged in his throat, heavy and suffocating, too painful to voice aloud for everyone to hear.
For her to hear.
Instead, his hand gestured toward the couple, and words he didn’t truly want to say flowed out with surprising ease.
   “—Jeongin, you’re a lucky man, I hope you make my best friend the happiest woman in the world. I wish you both a wonderful life together.” 
Her new husband was a lucky man.
That part was true.
He must have done something grand in a previous life to live the one Seungmin longed for now. To sit next to his her. To marry the girl who he wished he had never met.
Y/N. His best friend. 
The forced smile persisted, placing down the mic that he didn’t realized he had gripped a little too tightly while he spoke. The crowd erupted in cheers and applause, a wave of joy that felt distant to the bride’s best friend.
The newlyweds shared a kiss, and Seungmin had to look away.
They say that when you love someone, their happiness should be enough for you.
But the best friend wondered if that was true. He couldn’t grasp the idea. How could he find joy when she wasn’t truly his?
It was things only a fool would come up with. To make themselves feel better for losing out on the girl.
Yet, it was at that moment that Seungmin realized he was a fool. That he shouldn’t stay.
He couldn’t stay.
A fool, who couldn’t watch her live her life as someone else’s lover, someone else’s wife, while he withered away at the sidelines. It would be cruel. 
He would rather die.
He wished he never met her.
The years apart from her were just as painful as the years spent pining at her side. Sometimes, they would feel even worse. 
When he would come home after an exhausting day at work, pulling away at his tie. He’d stare at the silence, at the emptiness of his flat, and think about Y/N. 
Wonder what she was doing, how she had been. If she was happy.
He’d listen back to her voicemails, her cheery tone always carried loud in the air of his lonely apartment.
Her once best friend often thought back to their college days, to the moment they first met, he wishes it could all be undone. 
He kept trying to remind himself how much he should hate her. Yet, as he stared at the ceiling late at night, he couldn’t think of anything but her stupid smile, her loud laugh, and her piercing gaze that drove him mad.
He wished he never met her.
Almost four years after he hugged her goodbye at the airport, shifting across the world for a job he didn’t particularly care for, but chased in desperation to get away, Seungmin saw her again. 
He had promised to stay in touch. When she had cried in his arms before he left, saying goodbye to her best friend.
He promised to keep in touch, hop on video call, send emails. Anything that allowed them to hear each other’s voices, stay in each other’s lives. 
But he didn’t, because he wished he never met her. Because he was too busy pulling away.
Four years later, when he spotted her in front of some flower shop, his first instinct was to run. Yet, his legs betrayed his thoughts, leaving him frozen in place. 
His eyes drank in the sight of her. The fluttering feeling that he still suffered from intensified at just that mere glimpse of her. And even though there were clear changes from the time spent apart, Seungmin recognized her instantly, his eyes drawn. 
There was no sign of her lucky man, just her.
It felt like time had frozen. Like they stood there forever. Y/N, lost in the flowers while he watched his own blossom, her. 
He fought his thoughts. The ones that reminded him that he hates her, he should be hating her. 
But her hand gripped his arm, pulling him from his thoughts, immediately back to this moment where she stared at him with wide eyes.
Shocked. Surprised.
He couldn’t stop himself from inhaling sharply. His heart beating erratically at her stunned form in front of him, so close. He hadn’t noticed her walk over, and now his mind was in a whirlwind, leaving him speechless.
   “S-Seungmin!?” Her surprised voice and the beautiful smile that her lips morphed into, warms him.
Pathetically.
And before he could think, before he could respond with words, she pulled him into an embrace. Her arms, tight around his frigid figure.
Time seemed to have stopped once again, but he could feel the slight tremble of her body against him, hands gripping his coat. 
She was crying. And his chest felt heavy.
   “I missed you.” She whispered.
He missed her too. But the words refused to come out.
────────────────────────
The once best friends had met almost a decade ago.
Innocent freshmen in college, unsure of what was to come next. 
The memory of it all was vivid, something Seungmin wished to forget but knew he never could. The image of her imprinted in his mind.
Y/N wore that bright red oversized hoodie Seungmin had stolen sometime after, still tucked away in the back of his wardrobe. Her clearly lost figure stood in the middle of the hall, attempting to take a step to the right, or maybe she should have gone left.
There was a printed schedule in hand, crumpled, perhaps from fishing it out of her pockets, from the frenzy she seemed to be in. 
And those deer-in-headlights eyes that Seungmin couldn’t forget, ever. 
Wide when he asked if she needed help. Eyes blinking rapidly before she slowly nodded.
They found themselves walking into the same lecture hall, sitting right next to each other, sharing awkward smiles. She had sighed in relief. Turning to face him with a grin he would find himself attempting to hate in the near future.
   “I thought I’d never find this class, thank you—”
Y/N looked at him expectantly, yet even before he could respond with his name, her eyes flickered down to read his notebook, her eyes twinkled.
   “Thank you Seungmin!” She beamed.
────────────────────────
Seeing her now felt like the first time all over again. 
Except everything about it was different.
Her hair was styled in another way, her makeup style felt foreign. She had a slimmer frame, and a grey coat that wrapped her, nothing near the vibrant red hoodie.
   “So, how have you been?” Y/N asked, looking up from her coffee.
Her voice was softer, calmer. A clear difference from what he remembered last. She’s changed. 
He wished she hadn’t.
   “Nothing much, just busy.” Seungmin replied, finally finding his voice. 
His lips forced a smile he had perfected. Attempting to play it cool.
But an expression he couldn’t quite decipher crossed her face, yet her own soft smile still lingered.
   “You’ve gotten so busy you’ve forgotten me, huh?” Her words were slightly playful, slightly something else.
But still, they cut deep. A pierce in his heart he couldn’t mask, his mouth parting yet void of any sound, ultimately at a loss for words.
How does he tell her the reason? The real truth? 
How can he admit he’s stayed away because he hates her, because he wished he never met her? 
Instead, he lied, his perfected facade of happiness etched across his face.
   “You have Jeongin! You wouldn’t have felt my absence anyways.” He laughed, but Y/N didn't.
Her smile faded and he found his falling as well.
   “Jeongin.” She repeated, her voice low, but her lips thinned into a gentle smile.
   “...He passed away in an accident two years ago.” She tried to hide the hurt in her voice, but he heard it.
He inhaled silently, shock crossing his face. His heart sank, at the news he had gotten much too late.
At the expression he was not used to seeing on her face.
   “I-I tried calling you, Seungmin—I needed you.” Her words were tinged with frustration, laced in sorrow.
He suddenly wished he never met her. But not because of the usual reason.
Because if he hadn’t met her, then he wouldn’t have hurt her.
Her vulnerable figure suddenly looked so small to him.
A whirlwind of emotions surged through him as he sat in disbelief, his throat dry, unable to speak. Processing everything.
Jeongin’s death had probably left her a mess. She must’ve needed her best friend at her side. Yet, he was no where to be found. He chose to hide away, afraid to get hurt, afraid that a glimpse of her perfect newlywed life would shatter his heart into even tinier bits of pieces.
He ran away like a coward.
Y/N wiped away the few tears that managed to escape, breathing in before offering a faint smile. One he wasn’t used to seeing from her. One he doesn’t like, he decided.
   “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to make you feel bad. You don’t owe me anything. I’m sorry…” Her voice trailed off into a whisper, gripping at the coffee cup to calm her nerves.
They sat in a heavy silence, still, while everything around them seemed to move in its own hustle and bustle. But finally, Seungmin mustered the courage to stand. Looking down at her with an unreadable gaze.
Her figure followed, misunderstanding that he was leaving, perhaps truly in a rush to do something she had kept him from.
   “Well, I guess you’re busy—” She began, but he cut her off with an embrace. 
A sudden tackle of his arms that engulfed her in them tightly. Yet after the initial surprise, her tense body instantly relaxed, her form shaking once more in the warmth of his hug.
   “I-I missed you.” She cried, her voice muffled against the fabric of his coat.
   “I missed you too.” He responded, his voice cracking.
────────────────────────
They’ve kissed once, but both swore it was just a dumb mistake at a college party. It didn’t mean anything. It was just a dare, stupid spin-the-bottle shenanigans.
They were sophomores, still naive. Still trying to figure things out. 
School, studies, love lives.
Yet she wasn’t aware that he had been on cloud nine during that kiss back then. Unaware that he lied and it meant something.
It meant everything.
He started wishing he never met her.
They’ve both dated others, partners they’ve liked, disliked for one another. But Seungmin always found himself returning to her, expecting comfort and company. 
He poured out everything to her, in his worst times, yet when it was her turn, he was across the world, dodging her calls. He was too busy hiding.
Seungmin didn’t intentionally ignore her attempts to reach out, her calls, her voicemails. Emails he couldn’t find the courage to respond to.
After his move, they kept in touch for a while, but then life got in the way. 
He was in a new country, new job. He was getting used to an independent life without her by his side.
Y/N was a new wife. She was working, creating a home. A new chapter of her life that didn’t leave room for a third person.
Their calls dwindled from twice a week to once every few months, until one day, they stopped altogether.
Although she did reach out from time-to-time.
One-sidedly. 
It was always one sided. Seungmin was too afraid he would crack, he would pick up the call on a night he drank a little too much in attempts to distract himself from thoughts about her. He was afraid he would confess everything.
Tell her how lucky her husband was. Tell her how much he hated her smiles, her laughter. How he hated her piercing gaze that was able to read everything but all those fucking feelings he had felt for her.
She had invited him for get-togethers. To reunions during the holidays when she was sure he was free. But he never responded. 
“You’re allowed breaks, man. I promise.” She once said in the last voice memo he had of hers before he changed his number.
Her voice booming loud with words he had memorized from replaying it often.
But he claimed he was busy. 
He wished he hadn’t met her.
────────────────────────
   “Seungmin, is that you?” He heard her voice from inside, in the bedroom.
   “Yeah!” He replied, closing the main door behind him, taking in her apartment for the first time. 
There were pictures of her and Jeongin lined on the walls, pictures of the two of them framed on a side table. That goofy one from a Halloween party in their junior year of college, still made him chuckle to himself.
The furniture was cozy, the air smelled like her perfume. The sight of the decorations were things he instantly connected to her, giving away to her personality. There was a pile of her favorite novels from her favorite author, stacked on the coffee table. The sight of which made Seungmin stare with a bittersweet smile because he knew Jeongin had liked them too. 
   “Was the place hard to find?” She asked, rushing out with that beautiful smile, hugging him softly.
His eyes took in the beautiful sight that was her, before quickly composing himself. He shook his head, handing her the bottle of wine he picked up on the was. He doubted they’ll drink it though, neither of them particularly liked wine.
She stared at it for a moment before her eyes flicked up at him, gazing at him with a teasing expression.
   “What?” He voiced out, although he could tell what she was thinking, holding back a smile.
   “Nothing.” She shook her head, attempting to stifle back her own laugh that fell out easily.
He couldn’t help but mirror, his lips parting into a wide grin at the soft sounds.
   “I couldn’t just come empty handed… it’s my first time here.” He shrugged, only for her to laugh even louder.
The evening flowed smoothly. She told him about her job. How she had been since Jeongin’s passing, her mundane life as a young widow. He told her about his new position after being transferred back here. She teased him about working with a girl they both had gone to college with. 
One she had assumed he had a crush on for some reason back then. A misunderstanding he had never corrected.
He laughed it off.
He wished he never met her.
But he couldn’t stop meeting her. 
His feet would automatically walk until he stood outside her place. At her door. His fingers would press her contact on their own. To call her at random times and ramble about anything and everything.
They would go out together frequently for lunch, for dinner. To their favorite restaurants and eateries from back in the day. They spent a day at the beach, went to baseball games. They watched a dumb movie they made fun of on the way home. 
He helped her around her place. Replacing that foyer lightbulb that had flickered for a good two days before it died and made Seungmin bang into her shoe rack on their way back from another night out. He hissed in pain, glaring at Y/N as she burst out into loud laughs.
Sounds that he was supposed to hate. 
But he found himself chuckling along. Seungmin found himself falling deeper in love with her, uncertain of how she felt. Once again.
He was returning to that place. The one he hated. The sidelines that made him wish he never met her.
Their friends who were once mutual, who he reconnected with after his return, started to notice that she’s changed. Or perhaps returned back to her old self. 
She smiled more, and left the house more often. She would crack dumb jokes again, things he didn’t know she had stopped after Jeongin. After he left.
Seungmin was glad he was the one bringing about that change. He was letting her pour out.
She cried in his arms one night. 
For Jeongin, the evening of what would have been her fifth wedding anniversary. So they rented a sailboat on a whim, yet instantly felt stupid, staring at each other in their life jackets, wondering who would steer. Neither of them knew how to sail, a fact that made them burst into endless laughter. 
They stay at the dock, talking, laughing, crying.
────────────────────────
It had been a year and some months since they’ve reunited. A year and more spent together, stuck to each other like glue. Like back in their college days.
Yet now, Seungmin found himself falling into a slight worry.
He was waiting for her at the movie theater, but she seemed to be running late. He glanced down at his watch, arms crossing over his chest as he stood in the lobby. His legs fell into a steady but slow pace, looking up every now and then towards the entrance hoping to see her emerging figure.
But she didn’t and anxiety began bubbling within him. Time continued to tick by, and he tried to call again. She didn’t pick up, again.
He glanced down at the time once more, the movie had started, yet she wasn’t here. Uncommon for Y/N who took arriving on time a little too seriously.
Before he could try to ring her, the call of his name made his head dart towards the direction.
   “Oh Seungmin, hi!” It was his coworker.
The one Y/N thought he had a crush on. 
The one he definitely did not have a crush on.
   “Great to see you here! What movie are you watching?” She asked.
Seungmin smiled, looking up at the large overhead screens of movies playing tonight, pointing at the name of the one they planned to see.
His coworker narrowed her brows. “I think the movie started already.”
   “Ah, I’m still waiting for someone.” He replied with a smile.
   “Oh, Who?” 
His lips parted to speak, yet even before a word came out, he felt the brush of a figure against him. Her body flush against his.
   “His girlfriend.”
Y/N’s arm linked into his, and he was momentarily stunned, turning to look at her with a sudden surprise. Mind still stuck on the words she had uttered.
She chatted some more with his coworker. A brief conversation he had zoned out from. Her introduction replayed in his mind over and over again.
When the coworker he didn’t have a crush on left, Y/N finally turned to him. Her smile wide, a hint of mischief, a hint of something else.
   “Sorry I’m late, I got held up in traffic.” She began, her cheeks flushed with a twinge of red.
But all he could do was stare. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind, but none formed words. Instead, he glanced down at their linked arms, then back to her. 
Her own eyes followed, and she inhaled, as if she decided something. There was a sudden boldness in her actions, as she slowly trailed down her hand to find his, her fingers wrapping around his own.
She cleared her throat, her eyes locked on their intertwined hands. Unaware that this very act had made his heart erupt in his chest.
Y/N wasn’t sure when these feelings began to take root inside her. 
These emotions of love. Of romance, that she was sure had faded when she lost Jeongin. Yet, here they were, perhaps lying dormant.
Waiting for her heart to heal.
Feelings that stirred awake when Seungmin had stared at her with that intent but soft gaze that one night.
She was convinced she was losing her mind. Surely, it was just the thrill of rekindling their friendship after so long apart. The giddiness of rediscovering experiences she hadn’t enjoyed in ages. The rush of feeling alive. And the person that made her crave all these things she didn’t realize she missed was Seungmin.
Seungmin, her best friend. 
Seungmin who was her best friend.
Because somewhere within she had noticed. That he wasn’t the same guy she remembered. He had changed, grown into someone more charming, funnier, dashing even. Full of good changes. But still, things she wasn’t used to. A version of him she didn’t recognize.
Seungmin looked at her with the eyes of a stranger. Or perhaps, the eyes of a man.
Her cheeks flushed when he smiled, when he opened the door for her or pulled out a chair. Simple gestures that shouldn’t have made her feel special, but they did.
They still do.
And that night, after they had finished laughing at the show they had both mocked with commentary the whole time, Seungmin had fallen asleep, his head tilted back against the wall. All Y/N could do was stare at his lips, a sudden urge to kiss him washed over her.
She stiffened, instinctively moving away from him, the warmth between them replaced by the chill of the air.
Suddenly, everything he did made her cautious. His light touches, his lingering stares, his protectiveness. His random visits, helping around the house that felt so intimate, so domestic, that it made her stare at him with such intensity she felt slightly afraid. Even his groggy morning voice when she called him randomly, coaxing him into whatever wild plans she had, started to make her cheeks tingle.
Her heart began to race once again. Beating rapidly, erratically at the mere thought of him.
When Y/N watched Seungmin talk with a coworker from a distance, a surge of heat rushed through her, a twinge of jealousy sparking inside.
And even if they weren’t standing particularly close, and there was no flirting happening, the mere thought of him having a crush on someone else unsettled her.
Before she knew it, her feet were moving on their own, her arm slipping into his. And then she declared it. Voicing what she had feared to say aloud. Something she found herself wanting from the moment she realized.
“His girlfriend.”
She had gotten bold. She had even grabbed his hand. The adrenaline rush from claiming him as hers made her forget for a moment. But now, as she stared at their hands. His fingers tangled in hers, warm against her skin, she felt a surge of fear.
A sudden embarrassment washed over her, and she swallowed.
Y/N slowly stilled and instantly pulled away, her shocked eyes trailing up to meet his disappointed gaze.
   “Is this too weird? Oh my god, I should’ve asked you first! I’m an idiot.” She was mortified, beginning to ramble, flustered and embarrassed.
Before he could think, before she could say anything else. Seungmin pulled her in. His palms cradled her cheeks, staring at her with an intensity that made her breath hitch in her throat.
   “You don’t need to ask.” Seungmin dove in and finally kissed her. 
Her wide, surprised eyes slowly fluttered close, and she kissed him back.
────────────────────────
Y/N had gushed about the “beautiful—no, the most gorgeous man” she had ever met, her heart racing as she recalled the moment her best friend would come to envy.
Seungmin who stared at her from his desk back in his college dorm room, had tasted bitterness from the sight of it.
He hated it. He hated that so-called gorgeous man. 
He hated her. 
He wished he had gone with her that day. To that stupid book signing he thought would be too boring. Seungmin should’ve ditched his own plans. Maybe she would’ve never met Jeongin. He wouldn’t have let her.
The day she went on her first date with the so-called gorgeous man, Seungmin was on his way to her place. He saw them when he pulled into the parking space in front of her building, smiles lighting up their faces.
The awkwardness in their air was anything but uncomfortable, the tell-tale signs of shy smiles and a blossoming romance Seungmin despised already blatant in their demeanor.
He gripped the steering wheel, a bitter feeling had washed over him.
He hated it. He started wishing he never met her. 
Yet some years later, he would have never imagined they’d be here. 
They’ve lived brief chapters of their lives that didn’t feature one another, yet ultimately found their way back to each other’s side.
They’ve kissed before, and they promised to forget. And here she was now, kissing him, marking him as hers and only hers, and that blissful feeling he craved washed over his entire being.
They continue to kiss, continue to make memories that belong to them and only them.
In the coming year, he would gather the courage to ask her to be his forever. She would cry, pulling him into her arms, whispering “yes” over and over as she kissed him again and again.
They’ll call each other silly names, relearn things about one another, bring back old quirks and habits. He’d come home from work, and she’d tackle him with her fit of giggles, washing away the exhaustion that he tried to bring with him. 
He wished time would stop. He wished he could forget all those times he pushed himself to hate her.
────────────────────────
   “I love your smile.” Seungmin whispered, his lips brushing against hers. 
An action that made her erupt into a fit of giggles, breaking the silence in the room.
His arms snaked around her to hold her in place on his lap, eyes taking in the sight that is her.
   “I love your laugh.” He continued, his nose grazing her neck, trailing soft kisses down to the sensative spot he was all too familiar with. 
Y/N’s laughter immediately ceased from the tinglyness his lips brought, from the fluttery feelings he ignited. Her fingers gripped his shoulders, warmth radiating between them as she steadied herself over him.
   “Kim Seungmin. Please, don’t tease.” Her voice was soft as she pulled back to meet his gaze, awaiting. 
Desperate.
   “I love that gaze.” His tone dropped, finally leaning in to kiss her deeply, until they became a tangle of limbs on the couch.
   “Fuck, I love you.” He mumbled against her mouth.
She laughed softly again as he tugged at the bright red hoodie over her head, tossing it aside with a sudden urgency. Her fingers traced his jaw, then glide down to rest on his chest, feeling his heart beat erratically against her palms. Staring down at him with the most gentle gaze, eyes glimmering as she took in the sight of him.
Seungmin, her best friend. Her lover. Her husband.
   “I love you too.”
She left a lingering kiss on his forehead, looking into his eyes once more with that beautiful gaze he loved.
   “Happy anniversary, baby.” He whispered.
Y/N kissed him again, and he didn’t let go. Seungmin would never let go. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ end.
267 notes · View notes
tojiscumdumpster · 10 months ago
Text
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။ toji fushiguro x his favorite customer (revision)
Tumblr media Tumblr media
✧ summary toji has a little soft spot for his favorite customer that he can't get enough of.
✧ content warnings reader is a black woman who uses she/her pronouns. chubby!reader and inexperienced!reader. rich girl in her midtwenties, very needy! usage of profanity, standing missionary, oral - m!receiving, doggy style, mixture of praise and degradation kink, breeding kink, unprotected, creampie and squirting, terms of endearment ─ pretty girl, princess, baby, baby girl, etc. softdom!toji with rough, passionate, and filthy intercourse. told in first POV ─ toji's. i got reader calling toji TJ, and i think that’s so cute pls.
✧ author's note happy birthday to my baby daddy toji fushiguro! we've been going strong now for years. just a little something something to celebrate him. this fic has been in the drafts since December. talk about black people time, old sksk. also, if you already seen the original of this fic on tumblr, it's mine lol. this is just a revision, so don't go around saying i copied someone! my writing has changed so i wanted to redo this and add some adjustments. i hope y'all enjoy. support me by reblogging, liking, and commenting your thoughts. ♡ AGELESS/BLANK BLOGS AND/OR MINORS - DO NOT INTERACT.
Tumblr media
 
 When it comes to women I fuck, I treat them the same because at the end of the day, they pay me good money to stuff their pussy with cock. 
 Don’t really care if they're married either. I usually get the old, desperate broads that aren’t getting any attention from their husbands at home, so it’s my job to make them feel good for the night. 
 I don’t do favorites. 
 I damn sure don’t give discounts. 
 And I definitely don’t get attached. But the moment I met Y/N that all changed. 
 My favorite customer. 
 Never did I expect a younger woman to pay me to get fucked, especially when she looks that good. 
 I’m almost positive she has a line filled with fuckers that’s desperately wanting to know what this tight, wet pussy feels like, yet here I am, living their fantasy. 
 I fucked Y/N once. 
 Then, twice. 
 Then, again.
 And again.
 And again…
 If I didn’t know any better, I’m fucking obsessed with her. Can’t even say it’s just for the money she’s paying me. Probably the best pussy I ever had.
 No. 
 It is. 
 So fucking warm, and she takes dick well, too. I usually give only an hour or two to my customers, but for Y/N? I reserved the whole night to relish her pussy. 
 The perfect fuck to end my day. 
 Those soft, sweet-sounding moans that slipped through her full brown and pink lips, having my previous cum shot staining them had me running wild. 
 But it seems like I’m not the only one who’s sex drunk. 
 Cock is all on Y/N’s mind right now. Whimpering and crying how big I am and thanking me for giving her dick. Tears pricks those chestnut-colored hues and I’m in fucking awe. She’s so damn pretty. 
 “You know how gorgeous you look taking cock like this? Being a good fucking slut for me, princess?” I ask, being met with a nod and her moaning in response. 
 Y/N’s pussy talks to me. Wet noises spreading throughout the room while I have my arms hooked under the fold of her knees, fucking her recklessly to push past any intrusion. 
 She’s jumping with me every thrust I make, causing her tits to bounce obnoxiously. I take one of her nipples into my mouth and suck on them like it’s my last dying breath, hearing that sweet whimper. 
 I belong in Y/N’s pussy, and she belongs to me, too, the way she’s gripping my cock and milking me. All of her cream and wetness drips between us and down my balls, and it feels fucking amazing. Every time I experience her velvet walls, I find myself becoming more animalistic, hungry and territorial over someone who should only be seen as a client. 
 But fuck, something in me says I would go batshit crazy if I ever found out she had other motherfuckers experiencing this. 
 Knowing how she looks when sweat coats her beautiful brown skin. How it feels to stretch her out and make her adjust to you. Just thinking about it makes me pound into her deeper and more aggressively. 
 “Toji, baby, yes. This feels so good,” she purrs. “Like that. Keep fucking me like that.”
 I hum. “Yeah? This is what you wanted, right? Paid me to please this good pussy?”
 By all means, Y/N isn’t a virgin, but she told me she doesn’t have much experience and I can tell by how tight she is. 
 Our sounds of pleasure resonate in the air, and I call her my good girl, praising how perfect her pussy is, to be met with her squeezing me and watery brown eyes. 
 “Toji… Toji… Yes. God, yes.”
 “Keep using your words, pretty girl. Tell me how much you love my dick in your pussy,” I ordered softly.
 “I love it so much. It’s so big, baby,” she tells me, slurring her words because of her lips still being on mine. “You’re going to make me cum.”
 I clicked my tongue, shaking my head. “Not yet. Come taste yourself.”
 Without hesitation, Y/N slides down to her knees and starts sucking my dick. I hiss at her swallowing me and the warmth of her mouth. She doesn’t take her time when sucking me off, immediately circling her head and throating me. 
 “Hot fucking mouth made to suck dick, huh, pretty girl?” I firmly grabbed her chin so she could look at me. “Eyes up, sweetheart. Open up your throat for me like a good girl.” 
 Y/N hollows her cheeks and bobs her head fervently on my dick, tightening her lips around me. 
 She sucks dick so fucking good, better than any other woman I’ve been with. And I just know I’m bound to bust quickly if she keeps doing this shit. 
 My hand finds the back of Y/N’s head to grip and I buck my hips deeper into her mouth, ensuring I hit the back of her throat everytime. I’m a fucking mad man when I begin fucking the gorgeous face, especially when she’s looking up at me with those big brown eyes. 
 A spoiled brat, prim and shy, who’s spending daddy’s money to get fucked and folded by an old bastard like me. Think I fucking developed a kink for this type because of Y/N.
 I pumped into her mouth more aggressively until she began choking and gagging on my cock. Drool and precum coating her mouth in the process. 
 Any type of control Y/N tries to take, I push past it because I want to use that pretty little mouth of hers how I want. She needs to get her money’s worth when fucking with me. 
 “Going to fuck my cum deep down that throat of yours, and you’re going to swallow it. Got that?” She nods and I softly tap the side of her face. “That’s it. Keep those lips tight around me.” 
 “Toji, pl—please,” she slurs, causing me to chuckle. 
 “Hm, look at you. Trying so hard to talk to me while sucking my dick. It’s cute.” I slow down my quick thrusts, but replace them with more fervent ones, pushing me and her head down until my cock outlines her throat. 
 My balls grow heavy and obnoxiously slaps Y/N’s chin, a clear indication I’m about to fucking cum. 
 Grunting, whining, gasping like a little bitch for air because head like this has a fucker like me sounding like a broken mess. 
 Blood rushes to my groin and I start getting sloppy, feeling my muscles tightening and ache burning between my thighs. I’m close, so fucking close to filling her mouth with my release, then I can finish fucking that fat pussy. 
 Everything about this damn woman is perfect. Her pussy. How she sucks cock. That fucking chubby and curvy body of hers. A pretty face with loaded cash.
 Yeah, she’s definitely mine after tonight. And I’m talking about anything lovey dovey. Meaning if I catch her being a slut like this to anyone else, I’d kill that fucker. 
 No hesitation. I-
 “Y/N, fuck!” I grunt while cumming in her mouth. This load is fucking heavy, but she’s trying her best to swallow every drop. 
 I groan at the sight of Y/N touching her tits and palming her pussy, knowing how much she’s turned on, too. It’s like the vibrations of her moans pulls more cum out my fucking dick.
 A mess I made on her face, but the joyful lust I see in her eyes tells me she doesn’t give a damn. 
 Good, because I’m not finished with her. 
 “All fours on the bed. Now,” I demanded. “Still gotta fill up your pussy.”
 Perfection is what I think when I see Y/N from behind, arched back, ass in the air and pussy dripping, ready for me to fuck. 
 I force an arch in her back and plunge my cock in her tight little pussy with one deep stroke. Y/N gasps in the air and I take the opportunity to pull her up by the throat and start pounding her cunt. 
 Why the fuck is she so goddamn wet? She takes cock well, bud shit, I abruptly slip out each and every thrust. 
 “Keep me inside that pussy, baby girl. Stop fucking letting go,” I gritted in her ear. She reaches behind her to hold my dick and push back into me with a tighter grip. “Hm, just like that. So fucking good to me, aren’t you?”
 “I need more dick, TJ. Fuck me harder, baby. I can take you,” she moans. 
 Begging for cock she’s already paying for… Shit, I get a kick out of how pathetically sexy she sounds. 
 I repeatedly slammed into her wet cunt, thrust after thrust, pussy creaming even further than before. If it’s one thing I can listen to for the rest of my life, it’s how Y/N sounds when she’s being fucked. 
 My name drips perfectly from her lips.
 Our skin smacking fills the air in the room along my hand striking her ass until I guarantee it’ll bruise in the morning. 
 “Look at this fat ass moving when I pound into this pussy. Fucking beautiful,” I growled.
 “Toji, please. I… I don’t care how much… I’ll pay more. Just keep fucking me like this.”
 I chuckle. “Atta girl.”
 I see why motherfuckers catch feelings when fucking pussy. I almost feel tempted to tell Y/N that I love her while fucking her. She has pussy that’ll make a fucker crazy… Possessive… Jealous.
 I applied more pressure to Y/N’s throat and pulled her against my chest. “You know who this pussy belongs to. Right, princess?”
 “God, yes, Toji. You… it belongs to you.” Her voice comes off as a faint cry and I know she’s on the verge of cumming. Especially with how her pussy is pulsating around me. 
 “Mhm, that’s right. Dreamed of my fucking dick pounding this tight little cunt, now I have you mindfucked. Huh?” I pinch her nipples with my free hand and increase my thrusts. “You’re about to come for me. Aren’t you, Y/N? I know you are. I can feel it. You should see the mess your slutty pussy is making between us.”
 “Fuck, I didn’t mean to, baby. It’s just… you feel good. So fucking good,” she whimpers, bouncing her ass back into me to meet with my thrusts. 
 “Maybe I should have you clean it with your mouth. Hm?”
 I release Y/N’s throat to shove her face into the bed and deepen her arch more than before. My single hand returns to her hips to grip, pulling her round ass back on my cock to kiss her center. 
 Can’t get over how wet—how tight and warm this fucking pussy is. The harder I fuck her, the louder her pussy gets and I grunt, curse underneath my breath at hearing the sound of her muffled moans. 
 I don’t give a fuck if one of us catches feelings after this. Actually, I want her to. I want Y/N to be dick hungry only for me. 
 I want her pussy to smell like I’m the only fucker that’s been running through her. I’m even fucking tempted to breed this pussy just so she’s mine.
 Why the fuck would I want to have sex with any other women after knowing what Y/N feels like? 
 “You take cock like a fucking pro. Look at you gripping me. Look at how this pussy is mine.”
 She spreads her ass cheeks to feel every inch of my dick. “Fuck me, Toji. Harder. Fuck me harder, I’m about to cum.”
 “Shit, me too, sweetheart. Such a perfect fuck toy. Going to fill you all the way up,” I rasped. “Fuck me back. Keep taking this dick.”
 My thrusts are sloppy. I throw my head back and swear into the air and moan her name. My balls grow heavier and heavier until I fucking but and empty my cum inside her pussy. 
 And she’s right there with me, crying my name and thanking me for giving her toe-curling orgasm. 
 Fucking enjoy hearing my pretty girl thank me for giving her cock. She just looks so damn pretty when she cums, too. 
 Dark brown skin sweating. The sight of her ruined makeup with mascara running down her cheeks. Moans sounding like a broken record. 
 Yeah, she’s a perfect fuck. 
 My favorite customer. 
Tumblr media
© 2024 tojiscumdumpster Do NOT copy, translate, plagiarize, repost (sharing links is okay) anywhere. I only upload on tumblr and you will find some of my work in ao3.
886 notes · View notes
backtothefanfiction · 8 months ago
Text
I Run To You | Joel Miller x Reader
Summary: when your abusive ex turns up drunk on your doorstep, yet again, there’s only one person you can turn to.
Warning: angst, implied past domestic assault, high school sweethearts, hurt/comfort, make out session
(Takes place pre-breakout)
A/N: this has been sat in my drafts for a while, thought I should finally finish it.
Tumblr media
It’s late… and cold. Your fingers hesitate, curled in tightly, nails digging into the palm of your hand, as you hold them millimetres from his front door. You know he said last time to knock on his door the next time Jack came looking for you again… and for the time after that… and the time after that; but you can’t keep running back here forever. At some point you need to take a stand. Beside he was a widow. He had a young kid who was definitely sound asleep upstairs and shouldn’t be disturbed by your knocking at the door.
Then you remember Jack and his literal drunk jack hammering of his fist on your door. He was no doubt still there now, even though you had turned all the lights off in the house and snuck out the back window and hopped over the fence.
You brace yourself and knock gently on the door. At first there’s nothing, as to be expected for one o’clock in the morning when everyone should be asleep and you knock like a pussy, not wanting to be an inconvenience. But you can see the faint glow from the tv still on in the living room. You know he’s still downstairs, even if he has fallen asleep on the sofa as usual.
You knock a little louder. It takes a moment, but this time an orange glow illuminates the front room as he turns on a lamp. You watch as his shadow looms into sight through the tiny windows set into the front door.
When he opens it, he’s still rubbing sleep from his eyes, but the rest of his expression feigns one of alertness and concern. After all, no one would be knocking at the door at this time of night unless it was an emergency.
“Hey.” He says with a slight frown as he takes you in in your shorts and vest top pyjama set and uggs, an old cream cardigan pulled tightly around you, the only thing standing between you and the mid February night time chill. “What are you-“ but his whispered voice trails off as he suddenly snaps to attention, remembering the only reason why you’d be here like this. You watch as he begins to look left and right up and down the street past you.
It brings tears to your eyes to know after all this time he still cares for you.
He brings his attention back to you as he sees you shift from one foot to the other, your teeth worrying at your lip, fingers pulling at your cardigan sleeves. “Come on, come in.” He says, stepping to the side and opening the door wider, ushering you into the warmth of his home.
“I don’t want to wake Sarah.” You whisper to him anxiously but he merely ushers you further inside as he closes the door behind you.
“You won’t.”
He ushers you back towards the kitchen, quietly closing the door behind you both so the sound won’t carry upstairs to where his little girl is sound asleep.
“I should just move.” You say as he begins to potter about the kitchen, gathering the things he needs to make a pot of decaf coffee for you both.
“You shouldn’t have to.” He grunts, trying to hide his own frustration with your situation.
It had been him after all who had driven you down to the station to report Jack when he had run into you in the local supermarket and seen you covered in bruises. It should have only been a quick “how are you?” “How are you?” “I am fine.” “I am fine,” catch up between old high school sweethearts who drifted away from each other. But the way he suddenly stepped up for you, it was like no time had passed and you quickly became close friends again. Especially when you realise he only lived a street away from you all these years.
Alas, when Jack was interviewed by the police the whole thing became a he said, she said thing and he got off with a slap on the wrist. Still it had given you the confidence to finally leave him, with a little extra help from Joel. Shame the man was like a boomerang and whenever he had one too many drinks, he’d show back up on your doorstep claiming to love you and begging for you to take him back.
The first time he had shown up was when Sarah had been away at summer camp and so you had no problem calling Joel and he of course came running, encouraging Jack to go home. He slept on your sofa that night, just to be sure.
When he showed up on Halloween, he thought it would be hilarious to show up with a mask and smash in the back door. You had immediately run to Joel’s and he made you stay at his whilst he called the police and went and chased Jack back out the house himself. He then changed the locks for you the following day.
For Christmas, he thankfully didn’t break in, however he did pound on the door for a solid hour and a half, claiming to have a special present for you. You seriously doubted that. Unfortunately Joel had taken Sarah to go stay with his Mom for the holidays and wasn’t in, but he was sure to send a couple of his buddies from the construction site over in his stead to scare them off.
“I just can’t keep living like this.” You said as he handed you the steaming mug of coffee and you gratefully wrapped your frozen fingers around it to warm them up. “I’m just so tired of it Joel.”
“I know, I know.”
“Seriously, save from completely moving state, I don’t know what to do.”
“It’s not going to come to that.” He said, reaching his hand across the table to take your shaking hands in his, holding them steady. His fingers were rough from all the manual labour he does, but still comforting, still so familiar after all these years.
The sudden reminder of all that history between yourselves made you both grow quiet, a sudden change in energy between you from that one innocent touch. It made you tingly. It made you warm. In all honesty- it freaked you out. You tried to meet his eyes, but it just made it worse. You quickly pulled your hands from his grasp and wrapped them around your warm coffee cup instead.
“I shouldn’t keep bothering you.” You said quietly into your mug.
“No.” He said firmly but kindly, “I want you to bother me.”
You looked at him then- and really looked at him. He had this look in his eyes. Something hidden and unspoken, like something he couldn’t even acknowledge clearly in his own head, let alone say out loud. There was an admiration there. But also guilt.
“Joel…” you said shakily, your voice hesitant and tentative. You needed him to say it. You wouldn’t allow your mind to wander- to hope he might still like you and want you after all these years- until he said it.
His head hung in defeat, eyes staring down into his coffee cup. He couldn’t say it.
“I should just go.” You said, immediately getting up from the table, an instinct deep in your bones telling you to run. If you didn’t even allow the space for the possibility- the opportunity- then you would never know and then there would definitely be no chance of feeling your heart break again.
You’d barely stepped past his chair towards the kitchen door, when his hand flew out to encircle your wrist. It held firm and your body grew rigid as sudden memories from your past suddenly flooded your mind, your body. But he was slow to rise. Feeling your tension at his action he softened his grip, you could slip your wrist free if you wanted. But you didn’t.
“Don’t go.” He pulled slightly at your arm, encouraging you to step back towards him. You did.
Where you struggled to look at him just moments before, now it was like you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. He encouraged you closer still; and as you stepped forward one last step he raised his hands to either side of your face. Neither one of you were able to say anything, your eyes doing all the talking for you.
You watched as his eyes moved from searching your own, to seeking out your lips and back. A moment later he was moving in for the kiss and you found your eyes closing in anticipation, your whole body compliant, ready for him to use however he wanted. But for now, all he wanted was a kiss.
His lips were soft. He tasted like black coffee. This close to him, you could smell the soap and the cheap apple scented shampoo he used. You couldn’t help but sigh into his mouth, your lips parting and granting him permission to deepen the kiss.
You had no idea how much you’d wanted this. How long you’d wanted this. Far longer than you’d care to admit- not just to yourself but everyone else too.
His touch grew firmer as his hand snaked around the back of your neck to hold you in place, the other sliding down your body and wrapping around your waist, pulling you into him. Still in a daze- barely able to acknowledge this was finally happening- you slowly began to lift your hands from your sides to touch him. Your fingers traced up the broad muscles of his back, his T-shirt was so soft.
He hummed against your lips in reaction to your touch and it sent a warmth between your legs to know he wanted you, just as much as you wanted him. It made you hold him tighter, your hands gripping tightly around his shoulder muscles, your nails digging into his flesh over the top of his T-shirt as you held him tighter to you. Your touch made him desperate and hungry for more. When his tongue teased at the entrance to your mouth, you didn’t hesitate to meet it with your own, your breaths growing ragged with need.
He used his body to push you back towards the table, the back of your thighs meeting the wooden top, shunting the table back slightly. You both froze at the sound of the rubber stoppers on the table legs, dragging across the linoleum floor. You took the pause- waiting to see if you had woken Sarah- to catch your breaths, your chests rising and falling in rhythm with one another.
Although it was clear she was still asleep, neither one of you moved or leaned back in to restart your sudden make out session. As you watched his eyes you could already feel him retreating, his guilt setting in.
“It’s okay,” you quickly said, “we can take things slow.” You said to him, desperately needing to hold on to this now it was out in the open. You didn’t care how long it took, you wanted him and you were willing to wait for him.
He slowly nodded, as his fingers sought out your own, the limbs tangling and intertwining. “Stay.” He slowly said.
“Okay.” You quietly agreed and nodded.
“No, I mean it… Stay. Move in with us.” He said and your brow furrowed. “You can have the spare room. He won’t bother you anymore if you’re here.” You were silent as you realised what it was he meant.
He lifted your cardigan back up onto your shoulder from where it had slid down. “Stay.” He said again softly.
“Okay.” You breathed.
“Yeah?” He said, wanting to make sure.
“Yeah. I’ll stay.” You nodded and agreed a little more firmer and he smiled.
583 notes · View notes
simpingforheros · 2 months ago
Text
Lover Man
Tumblr media
Pairing: Roy Harper X Single Mom! Female! Reader
Summary: Roy Harper gave up on love after his relationship with Cheshire never went anywhere other than creating his bundle of joy that was Lian Harper. That was until she came knocking on his door.
Warnings: 18+, Minors Do Not Interact, Female Reader/Female Pronouns/ Female Anatomy, Fluff eventually turning into Smut, Strangers to Lovers, Close Proximity, Mentions of Drug Addiction, Implied Abuse, Heavy Make-Out Session, Dry Humping, Implied Breeding Kink, Roy Harper being our Gentle King ((only this time)).
A/N: Soooo I had another Roy fanfic written completely in the drafts…and I hated it 💀. So I rewrote it and here it is. It’s a wee bit longer than my normal fanfics and I wanted to add more fluff and more descriptive detail instead of just smut. Please leave me some comments if you like this or if you don’t lol. Thank you.
A/N: I got my own ginger so it makes me wanna write about my second favorite ginger since I hardly see writing for him outside of him being a throuple with Jason. Roy Harper is just as hot as Jason because man’s literally got himself out of a bad place just for his daughter 😭🥹. Our responsibility king. Also Lian is aged up to 7 years old in this.
Dividers >>>> @cafekitsune
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Roy Harper was a hardworking man. He slaves over his small mercenary missions with the occasional events of saving the city in the mix of raising a 4 foot ball of energy all on his own. He felt exhausted most the time, but that exhaustion keeps him out of trouble. It also gets him out of any venture for a personal life.
Sure, Roy had the Outlaws who would swing by after missions just to hangout and drink, and the Titans make a rare appearance to visit their favorite niece. Even Ollie and Dinah would occasionally come by to visit. But, after Jade came and left him high and dry, his heart was hollow…
Lian was his whole world and stars. He never thought he could love someone as much as he loved his little girl. He dragged himself out of his drug addiction just so he can take care of her, and she should be enough to make the backbreaking labor enough.
However, he notices how the doodled Mother’s Day cards that used to litter the fridge for Jade began to dwindle as her eyes began to look longingly at the other parents who had two parents and a pair or two of siblings. Lian says she’s happy to live with her Dad, who was her bestest friend in the world, but the occasional crayon drawings say otherwise.
The stick figures of Lian and Roy with a faceless woman and another stick figure child making it very clear that Lian wanted a mother figure, or at least a sibling.
Maybe one day Roy can give it to her…but right now he was too tired.
Tumblr media
“What do you mean you forgot??” Roy yells into the phone as he speed walks back to his apartment complex.
He should have known better than to ask Garfield to wait at his apartment for Lian to come home and babysit for a couple of hours while he went grocery shopping. This week has been hell on him. He’s been dealing with some of Black Mask’s crew trying to expand to Star City and when he would try to get some sleep, the noise of some new neighbors moving in woke him up constantly. This was really his only chance to go do anything and Beast Boy forgot to come.
“I asked you to do one thing, Gar! Be here and watch Lian until I got back. How can forget to watch a 7 year old girl?” Roy seethes as he walks into the main lobby and bolting up the stairs.
His heart was pounding with all the possible scenarios. He knows he’s overreacting, that she was just probably sitting by the locked door either entertaining herself or crying. But he also couldn’t help but be paranoid that she strayed off to go find him or someone snatched her up.
His worst fear coming to reality as he walks onto his floor and sees no one. He quickly gets to his door and jiggles the nob, feeling the secured lock.
Just as Roy was about to scream at Garfield again to relieve the unrelenting anxiety, the sound of a door opening behind him catches his attention as a familiar ring fills the static.
“Daddy!” Lian yells as Roy turns around, relief filling his body as he kneels down to greet the girl.
“Oh fuck, you scared me.” He says, as he sighs in relief. His strong arms holding the small girl tight to his chest.
“I’m sorry,” the girl mumbles with sympathy pooling in her dark eyes. “I was walking Wren and she wanted me to see her new room.”
‘Wren? Who’s Wren?’ Roy thought as he quirks his eyebrow just as movement catches his eyes again to the door.
Another little girl was standing in the door way to the apartment. She looked the same age as Lian with colorful ribbons in her hair and the matching Star Academy uniform on as Lian.
‘Another Star Academy student? There isn’t any other student living here…’
Then the realization that this was one of the new neighbors hits him as a taller figure appears behind Wren. Her voice throwing Roy in a trance as she scolds the girl.
“Wren, I told you to not stare. Especially at strangers.” Her voice gently but protective as she kept her eyes on Roy. Her hand already on her daughter’s shoulder as her daughter apologizes.
“I’m sorry, Mama. I wanted to see Lian’s Dad and see if I can come over…”
The woman was the same age as him from what he can tell. Healthy, glowing skin despite the dark bags under her eyes. Her hair glowed like a halo in the fluorescent light of the hallway despite the messy frizz of what he thought used to be a protective hairstyle that her work day destroyed. Her boxy scrubs doing noting to hide her figure as the familiar logo of Star City General Hospital shined brightly.
“Dad.” Lian’s inpatient voice cuts through his daze as he looks to his daughter.
“Huh?” He says as his daughter giggles.
“I said, can I show Wren my room? I wanna show her all my Bluey toys.” She says excitedly.
His eyes briefly flickering over to the other excited little girl before stating gently, “I have no problem with it, but did you ask Wren’s mom if she can.”
“Yea! Miss (L/N) said it was alright.” She says happily.
‘Miss? I guess she’s not married…’ he thought as he handed Lian his keys with a joking quip, “Don’r throw a party while I’m over here talking to Miss (L/N).”
The girls giggle before running over to Roy’s apartment and entering. Roy stands up to his full height as he gives the mother a smile. She returns it with her own as she says,
“Normally Wren is pretty shy, so I was happy to see she made friends with a good kid.” She says as she pushes some stray hair out of her face before offering him her hand. “I’m (Y/N) by the way.”
“Roy. Roy Harper.” He introduces himself as he shakes her hand. He couldn’t help but smile brighter as they pulled their hands away, proud that his daughter helped out a new kid.
“Lian doesn’t have much of a shy side to her. I blame it on her mom’s genetics.” He jokes with a soft chuckle.
“You and your wife must be proud.” She says softly as she props her hip against the doorframe.
“Oh no, I’m not married.” He corrects her as he nervously stuffs his hands in his pocket as he felt a pang of gloom over his heart. “It’s just me and Lian.”
Her eyes dropped as she crosses her arms over her chest as she mumbles, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to assume…”
“No, youre alright.” He assures her with a shrug. “Honestly, I should be apologizing for your first impression of me being my kid locked out of my apartment.”
She giggles as she waves him off as she says, “Lian told me that her normal babysitters weren’t in town and that ‘Uncle Gar’ was suppose to be here.”
“Yeaaa.” He groans as he defends himself. “I promise that i’m normally on top of the babysitting situation since I normally work nights.”
She nods as she says, “I understand. I have to find my own babysitter now that I moved across the country. I work days at the hospital.”
The idea seeming to strike them at the same time as both their little girls scream in delight as they play in the apartment over.
A compromise between two single parents.
Tumblr media
The deal was easy and benefited both of them. Since she had to work 12 hour shifts on a 3 on, two off basis, (Y/N) would drop the girls off at school on her way to work, and Roy adjusted his “work” time so he can be home when they come home from school and babysit until Wren’s mom gets off from work.
When (Y/N) was off and Roy is working, She will keep both girls at her apartment and gets them ready for school in the mornings before they tag off.
During the rare occurrence that Roy had to go away on a “business trip”, the girls would just be with (Y/N) full time with Roy’s promise that it will only be a week and he will watch them when the weekend comes so she can rest.
This has been the routine for three months, and Roy enjoyed it more than he should. It felt great knowing that Lian was in capable, non vigilante hands when he was away and she had a female role model to who doesn’t fight crime in spandex.
Roy also adored Wren. She took a minute to break out of her shell, but she reminded him a lot of Jason. A quiet type who surprised him with her temper and mischief. He can see why (Y/N) is the kind of parent she is and how she easily keeps Wren and Lian in line.
Over the weeks, Wren and Lian became the dynamic duo of Star Academy. They did everything together and would cry if they couldn’t. The two even begged their respective parents for matching Bluey backpacks and sparkly shoes so they can match all the time. They even developed a cute habit of leaving colored drawings under the apartment doors for the other to find. The friendship was very heart warming and helped form the bond between their parents.
The two had a lot in common too. More than they expected.
Tumblr media
“Wanna beer?” Roy offered as he stood up from the couch.
“No thank you.” She answers as she focuses on wrapping the present infront of her.
Tomorrow was Wren’s birthday, and while the girls are having a sleep over in Lian’s room, Roy and (Y/N) prepped for her birthday party.
“You sure, doll?” He says as he grabs a couple beers. He sits beside her and holds his open bottle near her as he jokes. “You gonna let me drink alone, and make me look depressed?”
Her eyes darken as she scoots away from him. The air turning cold as she snaps on him. “I said No, Roy.”
Roy immediately freezes before frowning in concern. He puts the beer on the coffee table as he whispers to her. “Hey, I’m sorry…”
Her eyes relax as her shoulders slump. She sighs softly as she mumbles. “No, I’m sorry…”
She reaches into her pocket a pulls out a familiar looking token and hands it to him. A 5 year sobriety coin. His brows shoot up as he looks at her in shock.
She giggles somberly as she says, “it’s not mine. It’s my Dad’s.”
She pulls her knees to her chest as she looks to the wall around the muted tv. Pictures lining the wall of Lian and Roy with some of just them or with friends. She smiles softly as she recounts.
“My dad was a bad alcoholic, but a good dad. He would take me with him everywhere he could and it would be like everyday was a good day. I was too young to realize he drank too much or he yelled at my mom a little too harshly.” She says as she picks at the material of her socked covered feet.
“It wasn’t until I got pregnant with Wren that he realized he had to sober up. He managed to stay clean for almost 6 years until a drunk driver hit him.” She chuckles sadly as she sees the irony in her dad’s death. “He even help me leave my ex who was also a bad drinker. I guess seeing my dad doing it my whole life, I thought it was normal…”
Her arms wrapping around herself before finally looking back at Roy. Her eyes meeting his green ones, her gaze watery as she wipes the tears away.
“I’m sorry, that was too much to put on you..” she said as her voice wavers a bit. “You can drink though I don’t-“
Roy gets up and takes his beers to the kitchen. Confused by his abruptness, she follows him, only to see him dumping out his open beer and starting to dump out the other one. She looks at him confused as he finishes dumping the liquid out before he pulls out his wallet and pulls out a coin.
He hands both coins to her as she reads the one he pulled out of his wallet. 7 years sobriety.
“You were…?” She mumbles is disbelief before he answers.
“Yep, former heroine addict…” he says as he leans back against the counter. His arms flexing as he crosses his arms over his chest. His eyes shining with seriousness as he says,
“I understand why your dad got help. I did the same thing when I found out about Lian, and I don’t ever wanna do anything that can jeopardize giving her a better life than I had…”
An emotion crosses his face that makes her nervous but excited as he admits.
“And I don’t want to do anything that would drive you out of mine.”
Tumblr media
“Please, (Y/N)!” Lian begs as Wren stands behind her with her puppy dog eyes shining behind her.
Those were the famous last words that were said when Lian and Wren convinced her to allow them to go to a slumber party while Roy was out of town. (Y/N) didn’t see the harm since it was Friday night and the girls had been good. Besides, Roy was supposed to be home late tonight so he can enjoy his Saturday morning resting.
It was a good idea. Or at least that’s what she thought before she got mugged on her way home from dropping off the girls.
The woman didn’t see it coming when she was snatched off the street and pinned to an alley wall as a disgust voice coos at her.
“Easy, Babygirl.” The masked man purrs as his dirty finger nails digged into her arms. “Just give me your purse and we can both walk away happy.”
“Fuck off!” She says as she tries to yank away from him .
“Now don’t be such a-!” His growl interrupted as the swoop of air shoots between them. She looks to where it lands and sees a red arrow buried into the wall behind them. The mugger was the first to look back to where it came from before gasping,
“Arsenal? What’s he doing here?” He curses as he pulls (Y/N) in front of him, making the struggling woman a human shield. “I’m armed, and I’m not afraid to hurt the bitch!” He says as he pulls out a knife and holds it to her neck.
(Y/N) only heard about the vigilante through the news. Apparently he used to be Green Arrow’s sidekick before he went solo for some reason and he was a rough guy. He works with the Red Hood who was known for killing criminals so she understood why the man was scared as a figure dropped down from a rooftop with his bow ready to shoot.
Her panic setting in as the bite of the blade was pressed hard to her neck, the anxious blade knicking her. Her panic eyes were set on the archer as she watches him slowly approach.
He looked…familiar. His height and built was impressive despite him being more on the leaner side and his features not obstructed by his sunglasses and hat reminded her of Roy…
“Let the girl go.” Arsenal warns the burglar. His voice was deep, but it didn’t sound natural. It was like he was trying to make his voice sound different. “You’re just pissing me off more and I’m gonna end up breaking your eye socket in.”
The criminal trembles before deciding the best escape plan. He grabs ahold of her purse before throwing her in Arsenal’s direction. Unprepared to the violent shove, (Y/N) falls to the ground before the vigilante can catch her. Her yelp filling space as the hero kneels down beside her to make sure she wasn’t stabbed.
“Hey, you alright?” He says as he scans her body for any serious injury.
She pushes herself up, cringes as her wrist throbs. His large gloved hands on her back and shoulder as he helps her stand when she notices his exposed arm. A familiar faded green tattoo visible on his bicep as the pieces fall together.
“Roy?…” She asks as she looks up Arsenal. Despite his eyes being covered, she can tell he was looking at her in a panic that she figured him out.
“Yea…” He confirms before looking behind her as he realizes the motherfucker stole her purse. He pulls his aviators down to the bridge of his nose, his eyes shining in concern as he mumbles to her.
“Go home. I’ll meet you there so we can talk about it.”
The look in his eyes and the pounding adrenaline makes her fear melt away as she nods her head.
“Okay.”
Tumblr media
The throbbing pain in her wrist didn’t stop when she finally made it back to her apartment building, acting as her anchor as the revelation that Roy’s secret night job was him being a Robin Hood copycat.
Thinking back on it, she should have figured he wasn’t a normal guy. Constant bruises, noticeable limps, and stolen ibuprofen were a routine in their life.
The thought made her stop for a second in the stair way.
Their life. The one they shared for months basically together. At first it was just two single parents helping each other out while their daughters bonded. Then her and Roy began to get close, close enough to where they were constant in each other’s apartments as the other child was.
Now he saved her life…maybe he already did that the first day in the city and she babysat a kid she didn’t know…
As she reaches the arch way between the two apartments, her hands searches her pockets for her keys when disappointment answers her.
The keys were in her purse.
With a sigh, she decides to sit on the ground besides Roy’s door as she waits. (Y/N) curls herself into a ball with her knees to her chest as she felt the familiar feeling of exhaustion nipping her eyelashes.
(Y/N) was a hard working woman. When she wasn’t working herself like a dog in the Emergency Room, she was handling a 4 foot ball of attitude. She didn’t have time for any ventures outside of that. She loves Wren with all her heart, but that doesn’t help the hollow part of her heart from throbbing…maybe someday she can give Wren a father who’s worth something. But right now, she was too damn tired.
The door opens behind her as she jumps awake. The woman didn’t even realize she almost fell asleep, but a warm hand opens in front of her as she looks up.
Roy was standing in front of her now. A grey zip up was pulled over his shoulders to cover his costume as her purse hanged on his arm. His soft smile made her stomach flutter as he breaks the silence.
“I guess I got some explaining to do…”
She doesn’t respond right away. Instead she gives him her hand and stands up with his help. Her injured wrist cradled to her chest as they enter the apartment. The movement still felt natural despite the circumstances. Roy didn’t even have to ask about her arm to know she needed first aid on her wrist.
He tended to her sprained wrist as he tells her his life story. She already knew about the general events of his childhood and his life with Oliver Queen, but didn’t know he was a sidekick turned mercenary. The whole story made her head spin as she thought about the man tending to her as a boy wearing yellow and red spandex and managing to attract a female assassin who was Lian’s actual mother…
“So…” Roy says as he expects some sort of reaction out of her.
“So… You are a vigilante…Ollie and Dinah are too.” She recounts as she rubs her bandaged wrists. “And your ex is an assassin…”
(Y/N) sighs before looking at the nervous ginger fidgeting in his seat. His nerves were haywire.
‘What if she leaves?’
‘What if she doesn’t want anything to do with me or Lian anymore?”
‘Is she gonna keep Wren from Lian and Me?’
“Okay”
The phrase makes Roy’s neck snap was he blinks wildly at her. His heart pounding as he scans her completely calm face with a soft smile on her face as she giggles at his baffled expression.
“Okay? That’s all you gotta say?”
“I mean sure I’m not a fan of the whole putting yourself in danger shtick, but if that’s the only downside to you, then I’m okay with it.” She says calmly before giving him a serious glare. “Just as long as the girls are never endangered.”
Roy couldn’t help but fall out of his chair and on his knees infront of her as he laughs. His hands pulling her into his lap as he enjoys the chill of relief as his body yearns for the reassurance of her touch. It wasn’t until he cupped her face that he realized just how intimate their position was.
Definitely not something friends should be doing….
But are they just friends?
“Roy…” She mumbles. Her eyes speaking to his soul as the exhaustion and months of connecting and yearning reach the apex. Or maybe it was the reflection of his own feelings bubbling up as he moves her hair away from her face.
“I promise I’ll never let anything happen to you or our girls…I can’t afford to lose them…or us.”
The first move wasn’t clear. The blur of teeth and tongue distracting him as their hands held the pair close. His hands adjusting her to straddle his lap as hers ran through his hair and over his strong shoulders. His mouth trailing down her jawline and caresses her throat as her hips began to grind into his.
“Aw, poor thing…” Roy coos as his hips rolled to meet hers. His eyes shining with adoration as he marks her smooth skin. “How long has it been since anyone took care of you?”
She rolls her eyes at his teasing before pulling his head back by his hair. “When was the last time you got took care of, Red?”
He glares playfully with a smirk as he says, “Don’t call me Red.”
She giggles as she presses a soft kiss to his cheek before trailing along his jawline. Her breath burning his soul as she whispers, “Then how about…baby?”
He rips her back away by her nape before crashing his lips onto hers. The desperation dewing the walls around them as their soft moans and movement of clothes made their company.
His hands hungry as he finally pulls away from her long enough to push off her sweatshirt. A groan of appreciation fills the space as he admires her body. Every visible scar, freckle, mole, stretch mark, and roll made him want to explore every story that lead her to his arms. But that’s for another time.
His mouth watered as he looks back up at her.
“So pretty, Ma…”
His prayer is followed by his mouth devouring her skin as he kisses her collarbone. Her feathery moans filling the space while his hands caresses her exposed torso. He trails down to the valley of her breasts before pushing the offending bra up so they spill out. Roy couldn’t resist kissing around her sensitive skin, teasing her as her hands tangle in the mess of ginger on his head.
“Baby please…” she whines as her hips roll impulsively on his.
Her underwear was impossibly uncomfortable. Her body burning like iron as her intimate parts tried to cool down. The friction of her jean covered core against the rough tackle gear of his suit did not help as his hand began to grope her other breast.
His chuckle vibrates against the globe of fat as his fingers pinch the stiffening nub.
“Can’t wait to get me in bed? My, you certainly are a romantic.”
Before she can shoot back at him, he withdraws completely from her chest and his hands roughly cup her thighs. In a swift motion, Roy picks her up as he stands up from the floor. The pair share a soft laugh as her brief shock and his amusement leads them to his bedroom.
Once he places her on the bed, (Y/N) sheds off her sweatshirt and bra as Roy whistles in appreciation.
“I love when you strip for me.” He jokes as lust clouded his vision. “Can you do that again but slower?”
She glares at him as she leans back onto her hands as she tilts her head. Mischief fills her eyes as she examines him up and down with her lip between her teeth.
“Then how about you put a show on for me since you want one?” She teases.
His smirk widens as he decides to follow her suggestion. Roy rolls his shoulders back before reaching to slowly unzip the jacket covering his suit. Making a show of pulling it off his arms before twirling it over his head and tossing it.
Laughing follows his movements as he slowly strips off his gear as her hungry and amused eyes followed every rolling muscle exposed to her.
“Damn…” She whispers as a nearly nude Roy begins to crawl on the bed towards her. His prominent bones straining against his boxers as she continues. “And I wondered why you didn’t have a girlfriend…”
He laughs as he cages her in his arms. His ginger hair acting as a curtain over his forehead as he shrugs above her. “Maybe I was waiting on the right one.”
Their lips meet again as their hands began to map out each other. Soon all the rest of the clothes joined the floor.
His erection bobbing between them as his eyes remains trained on hers. His fingers trailing down to her exposed sex, groaning as he runs a finger between her folds.
“Already wet? And without foreplay?” He asks as faux sympathy plays on his face. “My darling clearly neglected that she gets wet from a few kisses…”
“I’m not neglected…” She protests before she whimpers as the bite from his finger entering her unused cunt hits her.
“I wasn’t talking body you directly, baby.” He corrects as his finger thrusts softly along her fleshy walls. The lewd sounds of her moans mixed with her wet sex made him melt as she begs,
“Fuck…quit teasing already, you bastard…”
He decides to oblige by adding another finger to speed up his pace. The thumb on the other hand joining the fun as it rubbed patterns into her puffy clit.
“I got get you all nice and ready..” Roy mumbles as he leans down to press soft kisses on her stomach up to her breasts. The mixture of gentle pecks mixed with the harsh stimulation below driving his lover insane as her hips arched to meet his hands.
“You deserve all that I can give for being such a good mom .” He praises her as he feels her walls clench around his knuckles when he finds the spongy mass he was searching for.
He contradicts himself by abusing that with archer like precision as the coil roughly tightens in her gut. (Y/N)’s gasps and cries desperate for the climax as she grips the hard flesh of his back. Just as she was reaching the peak, he stops.
“Asshole!” She curses at him as he pulls out of her. He chuckles before licking the tip of his soiled finger. Her eyes burning onto his mouth as he groans at the taste.
“Sweet as I thought..” he praises as he uses the hand to pump his cock. He climbs on top of her as he continues. “I’m gonna have to have a better taste next time, but I need you too bad right now…”
She calms her raging breaths as she smiles softly. “Next time?”
Roy pulls her legs up to her chest as he hooks her ankles on his shoulders. His red hot tip played with her clit as he rubs it through her soaked folds. He chuckles at her hopeful voice as he leans down to press a soft peck to her lips.
“Of course,” Roy whispers as his tip catches the entrance. “I don’t think I can go back to being friends after this..”
He slowly pushes into her as her hands shoot onto him as best she could. With her legs pinned to her chest, she can only grasp his bicep and his lower back as she is forced to endure the painful stretch of her neglected cunt welcoming him.
A groan ripping in his throat as he finally seats himself fully into her before peppering kisses on her face.
“Was gonna ask you out on a nice date without the kids around…gonna see if we would be a good fit.” He mutters as his mind seems to run on blanks. His hips rolling to gain some friction in the tight confines of her walls.
Her little breathless moans encouraging him as Roy begins to thrust shallowly to work her open before he pulls out almost completely. He slams back into her befor continuing his non coherent comment.
“But fuck…I don’t regret this. God, if I knew you would look so fucking hot in my bed…” He groans as his head dips to bite along her neck. “And your pussy is so tight…It’s driving me crazy. I wonder how a sweet thing like you could like me…”
His cock messaging all the right nerves in her as (Y/N)’s nails clawed into him. Her moans turning to incoherent shrieks as his tip abuses her spot, remembering exactly where it was when he found it earlier. Her guts twisting at both the words and his abusing pace. The denied orgasm from earlier building back up as her desperation grew wilder.
“God, Roy…So full…so good.”
Fuck she looked pretty. Her lips wet with tears and sip as she cries. Her eyes blown out in addictive lust and watery tears. Roy couldn’t help but cup her jaw in his hand and kisses her. The now familiar taste of mint and nicotine making her more addicted as his tongue claimed every inch of hers. He pulls away as his groans start matching her whines as his hand snakes between them to rub her clit.
“Honey, I may have to fuck a baby into you…” He mumbles as he buries his face in her neck. Her walls responding in a vice grip as he roughens his pace to meet their impending climax. “You like that, pretty girl? Want me to knock you up and give Wren and Lian a little sibling? Give you a nice big family with a white picket fence? God, you’re such a sweet thing that I wouldn’t mind keeping you as my pretty little girlfriend…”
“Roy!” She whines as her body shakes. Her walls closing in on him as she finally reaches her peak. Her eyes rolling back as stars cross her vision before Roy slams into her one more time as his hot cum fills her welcoming womb.
The pair remain still for a moment as soft pecks were exchange. Roy gently pulls out before he helps his love stretch back out. His hands massaging her thighs before grabbing his abandoned jacket to wipe her thighs and himself clean.
“You wanna go out tomorrow?” Her cracked voice catching the archer off guard before he smiles.
“With or without children?”
“Without. They are at a sleep over and gonna go to the zoo tomorrow with their friends.”
“Then it’s a date.”
Tumblr media
A/N: Okay I didn’t know how to end this because Ngl I was tired on working on this tbh. I hope y’all enjoyed reading this and let me know what you think. Comments and reblogs are encouraged.
Tumblr media
@simpingforheros fanfic. I DO NOT CONDONE MY WORKS TO BE STOLEN, PLAGIARIZED, COPIED, REPOSTED, OR TRANSFERRED ONTO OTHER BLOGS, ACCOUNTS, AND WEBSITES.
148 notes · View notes
hockeybabe · 9 months ago
Text
Family Skate | M.Knies
Tumblr media
Not my gif
Parings: Matthew Knies x gf!reader
Summary: you and mattthew are new to the dating scene and he makes it official to the public by inviting you to the family skate.
Warnings: pure fluff, swearing, insecurities, kissing, slight cocky Knies, ngl rushed af
Word count: 756
Note: this has been in my drafts for a while. Also requests are open, send them in! And I saw Olivia Rodrigo!!!!
The moment you met Matthew, you two instantly clicked. You had lived in Toronto your entire life working for the leafs. To the team you were like their little sister and the John well you were like his kid. When the leafs called up Matthew you had lost your apartment and John was there to help you.
So gradually you lived with the Tavares residence, along with Matthew becoming professional babysitters for John and Aryne. But what the outside world didn’t know was that you and Matthew were a little more involved with each other than just friends. 
You were a couple. One that you kept away from the world because of people not always being accepting. It was your idea. You had seen it happen to so many and while they could handle it; you weren’t sure you could. However, after multiple talks with Aryne and other girlfriends, they finally convinced you to be shown off.
And what better to have it done at the family skate.
“Babe, you ready.” Matt called for you pulling on his jersey. “Yeah.” You said fixing you scarf and pulling your hair out. “How do I look.” You turned around showing him your outfit which consisted of a handmade leafs jacket with his name on it and black leggings. 
Matthew stared down at you with a cheeky smile gabbing you hands at your sides and leant down giving you a kiss. “You look perfect.” He mumbled. “We should probably get going.” He said heading for the door. As he walked away you slowly feel your nerves creeping up. Matthew notices you lack of presence.
“Y/n,” he calls out. “Everything alright?” He asks once you come to the door. “What if they don’t like me?” You asked, twiddling your thumbs. “Who’s not gonna like you?” He asks clueless making you groan. “The fans, you dummy.” You placed your hands on his chest, looking up at him. “What are they gonna do? You’re mine and I’m yours. They’re just gonna have to accept that.” He says, putting loose hair behind your ear.
“But-” “If they judge, they judge don’t let them tear you apart. I love you.” He says, opening the door. “I love you too.” You mumble. “What was that?” You groan, “I love you too.” You said louder. “That’s my girl.” He said, watching you exit the house and getting into the car.
Once you guys got to the rink, you trailed behind Matthew as he waved to the fans what you didn’t expect were the amount of fans calling your name. You had no clue how they knew who you were, but they were cheering for you.
“Looks like you don’t need to impress anyone.” Matthew turned around, looking down at you with a smirk. You gave him a smile, tightening your grip on his hand as you gave shy waves to the fans. When you finally got to the rink, you sat beside Steph. “Looks like they love you.” She commented.
“Could be a facade.” You shrug. “Fans are brutally honest about liking people. I guess they realized that because you've been dating for a while, then there’s nothing they can do.” She said as she watched Mitch and Matthew grab their girl's skates.
“Hi baby,” Matt said, kneeling down and tying your skates as you told him when it was tight enough. “You know you’re going to be dragging me everywhere, right?” You laugh. Matthew chuckled, “I got you.” Once your laces were fully tied, you took his hands and walked to the rink.
Matthew set foot into the ice first and took your hands, holding you tightly as you slightly wobbled in his grasp. “You doing great.” He cheered as he strides across the ice, pulling you with him. When the two of you passed close by the fans, they’d gush about how cute you two looked.
“Have I told you how gorgeous you look with rosy cheeks?” He smirked, making you blush. “I would slap your chest, but I’d probably fall.” You grunt. “And now you’re saying you’ll fall for me. How great.” He gave you a goofy smile, making you groan.
“Thank you.” You said to him. “For what?” He asked, confused. “For letting me see past the negatives. I love you.” You said quietly. “What was that?” He said, leaning down. “I love you.” “I love you too.” He responded by leaning down giving you a kiss as the other players' sticks clacked with the ice as they cheered with their partners. 
608 notes · View notes
sylvesterelle · 6 days ago
Text
Tumblr media
Meditations in an Emergency
Reader/Simon "Ghost" Riley/John "Soap" MacTavish
“Like it feels so good to get and give a compliment and we should normalize doing it more often. Strangers reaching out across the great abyss for a moment of connection,” you say, leaning back and gesturing broadly. “Ships passing in the night with naught but a toot-toot of mutual appreciation.”
“I don’t think that’s how the shipping industry works.” Or: How to live well and get railed through the power of compliments.
Part 1 of 2, 5,857 words, mature, tw: alcohol, cannabis
Read on A03
"I am the least difficult of men. All I want is boundless love. "
Frank O'Hara, "Meditations in an Emergency"
“I just think people should compliment each other more, that’s all,” you declare, biting the cherry off plastic sword that Kat, the bartender, had stuck in your Dirty Shirley. “Like we think these things all the time. Her scarf is pretty, or that guy’s got a cool haircut or whatever. We notice them, we think about them, but so rarely do we say it, you know?  Even though being complimented is the best,” you say emphatically, using the tiny sword to punctuate your words.
Kat nods and gives you a second cherry, because Kat is good people. Kat serves you doubles while charging for singles and listens to you ramble and lets you spread your notebooks and laptop on the bar when it’s slow, like tonight.
It’s early on a Friday evening which means you’re supposed to be writing. You pay the bills as a ghostwriter during the week and you like it, you do. The flexibility to work strange hours typing late into the night, remote so you write wherever you want like coffee shops and cocktail bars and anywhere loud enough to drown out the more distracting of your thoughts. 
But you spend so much time devoted to other people’s work that you’d promised to set weekends aside to work on your own ideas. Easier said than done, when there isn’t an irate publisher on the other end setting deadlines and demanding pages. And the problem with your own ideas is that you just have so many of them; find it hard to devote yourself to one without getting distracted by another, your hard-drive a graveyard of drafts in various states of decomposition.
But routine helped, so there you’ve sat every Friday night for almost two months—even if you’ve spent proportionally less time writing than people-watching and sweet-talking Kat into making you interesting drinks off-menu (“This is a dive bar,” she’s told you more than once. “We don’t even a menu to be off of.”)
It’s not not part of your writing process, you reason. You’re a firm believer that life is stranger than fiction, and many of your most delightful ideas have come from observations and unusual interactions—the very reason you’d been thinking about the importance of compliments. 
“I just think we should be more intentional about finding joy in each other. For example, what would you say, darling Kat,” you begin, batting your eyes at her sweetly, “if I told you that you look fucking incredible now and always, you’re so hot it gives me hives if I look at you straight on, and more specifically that little curl that’s coming out of your ponytail is particularly fetching and I like it a lot?”
Kat rolls her eyes, which is as good as a smile for her. “I would say you should slow down on the Shirleys.”
You wouldn’t say the two of you were friends, not really, but there was a familiarity and ease in the relationship now that warmed you. You’d met her your very first night while on your usual ramble to learn a new place, begin to make sense of its curves and corners and spirit. The neighborhood you’d found an apartment in wasn’t the best, but it was furnished and month-to-month and good enough for you. Best of all, you’d only needed to wander in the snow a couple blocks before you’d struck gold: drawn like a moth where a plain, unmarked door had opened, spilling warm light and the sounds of overlapping laughter into the night. 
Inside it really was a dive, all sticky floors and old dollar bills pinned to the ceiling, a jukebox that took dimes and a blonde bombshell behind the counter who served with a decided lack of smile. But a week of you showing up and chattering at her had cracked that icy shell enough to get a name and a few raised eyebrows instead of complete silence. By the time you’d earned your discount as a regular around the third week, she’d occasionally comment on your more interesting trains of thought, offer some piercing observations and insights of her own if she was in a good mood.
A couple more weeks, and you know her well enough to bring a second iced coffee when you arrive for the evening, Kat pulling a bottle of Irish cream from the well as you remove the lids in a dance that has become comforting in its routine.
Yours is now slowly melting beside you, momentarily abandoned in favor of the syrupy-sweet mess that was waiting for you. Kat’s sipping the last of her own as she considers her verdict on your compliment, hip propped against the side of the bar.
“I don’t know if I’d particularly appreciate a stranger saying that to me. Don’t want strangers saying anything to me, really,” she frowns, “but particularly the bit about the hives.”
“Alright, I might have gone too hard out the gate with that one,” you admit. “But more importantly, I think you might be in the wrong profession for strangers not talking to you.”
She flips you the bird, heading to greet the two regulars that had slipped into place at the end of the bar. It was still early enough in the night that the place was mostly empty, only a few singles and two-tops stopping for an after-shift drink, giving you and Kat plenty of time to talk. It’d get rowdy enough later on, the voices louder, the jukebox queue a little more violent—but you’d found that among the chaos was often when you did your best writing.
“Hives aside, you know what I mean though, right?” you continue when Kat returns. “Like it feels so good to get and give a compliment and we should normalize doing it more often. Strangers reaching out across the great abyss for a moment of connection,” you say, leaning back and gesturing broadly. “Ships passing in the night with naught but a toot-toot of mutual appreciation.”
“I don’t think that’s how the shipping industry works.”
You ignore this, already imagining renting a sailboat somewhere sunny, tropical. “I always thought it’d be fun to be a sailor,” you say dreamily. “Kerouac was a Merchant Marine, did you know?"
Kat makes a face.
“What, you didn’t like the book?” You’d loaned her a copy of The Dharma Bums the week before, slim and beloved enough that you carried it with you instead of borrowing from the local library, like you usually did. You had a collection of library cards now, rattling around in an old Altoid tin—the only souvenirs you kept from all the various cities you’d visited in your travels.
“It was fine. Good, even, if you’re into that sort of thing,” she say, swirling her coffee around. “He’s just so fucking mopey. I wanted to shake him, like c’mon man, you need to stop thinking about your life and actually fucking live it.” Kat’s the most animated she ever gets. Which, admittedly, is just slightly more expressive than usual: eyes narrowed a little further, three degrees more derision in her tone.
Kat prefers nonfiction. History. Facts. Still reads everything you recommend, but rarely finishes one without getting frustrated with protagonists making dumb decisions and whining about their life choices. And while some of the books she recommends to you are a little dry at times, they’re certainly illuminating—and the last one about organ harvesting was surprisingly catalytic for plot ideas.
You shrug, acknowledging the point. She’s not wrong, but you tend to live most of your life in your own head and your own worlds, so it doesn’t bother you in quite the same way. Although, now that she mentions it…
“You know, all of this is kind of to my earlier point. Giving someone a compliment is like the ultimate shortcut to living outside your head. You’re not all wrapped up in your own issues and thoughts, but appreciating the world and the people around you. Even if you don’t say it—which you should—it means you’re paying attention. Noticing.”
You drain the last of your Shirley, swapping it out for the iced coffee and swirling around the diluted ice. “Proposal: we make a game of it, tonight. We notice.” It wouldn’t be that different from what you and Kat normally did; share little observations on other patrons, trade theories on this person’s job or that person’s backstory. They’d just be a little more…intentional about it. "Keep your eye out for any interesting hats or weird pins or extremely sexy noses and come and tell me. That way we can both enjoy it,” you entreat, clasping your hands together in anticipatory delight.
You know better than to suggest Kat actually compliment anyone. You’re optimistic, not delusional.     
“What constitutes an extremely sexy nose?” she asks, frowning at you.
You shake your head pityingly. “Oh Kat, that’s something you feel in your heart.”
She rolls her eyes and heads to the other end of the bar, where a nicely-dressed couple sink uncertainly onto the cracked vinyl stools. Looking around like they might be feeling just a wee bit out of place. You catch the woman’s eye, smiling broadly. “I love your dress,” you tell her, and feel the joy of her answering blush bubble sweet and bright in your veins.
You pride yourself on having excellent ideas, but this is easily one of your best. You get a tremendous amount of writing done, unusually productive while riding the high of giving out compliments left and right. Not so many that it feels insincere and never any you don’t mean. But Baader–Meinhof was a real sonofabitch because it’s true that the more you look, the more you see to appreciate. 
Like Bobby, the union electrician with his first name embroidered on the pocket of his work-shirt. It catches your eye because it’s not machine-printed but carefully done by hand, illuminated when he leans over to order a Schlitz. His wife’s work, he shares you when you comment on it. “She’s paid special for her embroidery but still makes time to do every last one of my shirts. So I can carry her love around all day,” he says proudly, unabashed even when his friends tease him good-naturedly. 
Then there’s the lady whose cheetah-print nails match her furry coat, who winks at you when she catches you looking admiringly from across the bar. Right after her is the burly biker who reveals an entire themed photoshoot of his toy poodle when you compliment the photo on his lockscreen. Others in between, some you speak to, some you don’t—but all you appreciate in a way you vow to do more in the future.
Inevitably, little pieces of what you observe trickle onto the page, fleshing out bits of characters and sparking ideas you jot down in bursts of inspiration. You won’t know until later if you’ll end up keeping any of it, but you like the thought that that you’ll always have some part of this moment—the people, the place, the time—woven into your writing. A little souvenir in-and-of-itself.
Though the night gets progressively busier, Kat swings by from time to time to share her observations: money fished from strange locations, custom bank cards, funny pins she read when customers leaned close to shout their orders over the music—partially your fault, after you compliment an old geezer’s song choice and spend twenty minutes with him, combing through the catalogue and cackling as you feed dime after dime and queue enough dad-rock to last a fair few hours.
All told, you’re feeling fucking incredible as it nears midnight and the synth solo from Toto’s “Rosanna,” has you wriggling in your seat. You’ve a few thousand words under your belt and the high off all those little moments of kinship is making you feel sparkling and happy and well, which, historically speaking, is sometimes a challenge for you.
You grin at Kat when she slumps next to you, enjoying a brief reprieve from new customers.
“Whatcha got for me, killer?” you ask, fishing in your bag for a granola bar. She takes it with a grateful look, shoving half of it in her mouth and talking as she chews.
“You’re gonna fucking love this. A mohawk, dude. In 2024.”
You perk up, looking around the room. It’s pretty packed now, but you can’t believe you missed a cut that attention-getting. “Liberty spikes?” you ask hopefully. You adored the punks of your acquaintance; always had interesting thoughts and insider tips on the local music scene.
Kat shakes her head. “Nah, it was cut short. Gym rat type, I think. Good tip, nice accent. Scottish,” she clarifies around the last of the granola bar. “Talked some shit about the ‘natural superiority of whisky over bourbon’ when he got a Maker’s for his friend.”
You hum, still craning your head. “See where they sat?”
She shakes her head. “Asked about smoking though, so probably on the patio.”
Calling it a patio was generous—a small bit of grass with a couple white lawn chairs and an ashtray, mostly. But there was a heat-lamp that worked roughly sixty percent of the time, which made the bar very popular with those in the know on cold nights like this.
“Speaking of, ‘bout time to take your break?”
If it wasn’t too busy Frank, the bouncer, would watch the bar while you and Kat split a joint in the back, sitting in companionable silence and pointing out shooting stars and passing satellites—clear skies a benefit of the city’s frigid nights. Kat knew a startling amount about astronomy but absolutely nothing about astrology; could tell you the history of the universe up to the surface of last scattering, but blinked at you when you’d asked if she was a Scorpio or a Capricorn.
Kat checks the clock then whistles to get Frank’s attention. You shove your laptop into your bag but  don’t bother with a coat—your cheeks are flushed from the warmth of the crowd and you don’t mind the cold, not really. 
The patio initially looks abandoned, silent but for the wet sound of car tires moving through the snow-choked alley. Not totally surprising; most balk at below-zero temps even with the lamp. Snow clumps heavy and wet on top of the plastic chairs and the overturned garbage pail that serves as a footrest but the sky is clear, a thousand tiny pinpricks of light visible in the heavens. You breathe in until the night air fills your lungs and you feel fresh and clean and cracked open wide, just pouring out love into the world.
Movement in your periphery catches your eye and oh, Kat was right, not a punk at all.
You’re not quite sure what to make of the two men standing half-shadowed near the lamp. Big is the first word that comes to mind and perhaps that’s sufficient for now, since you can’t seem to stop ogling the breadth of their shoulders and mouthwatering thighs long enough to notice anything else.
Kat had thought gym-rat but you’d put money on those bodies not just being for show—there’s too much power, too much potential for carnage disguised in that plush softness that comes from muscles in repose.
“Why hullo there, barkeep,” the one with the shaggy, soft-looking mohawk greets Kat jovially, his Scottish accent just as charming as promised. “And barkeep’s friend,” he adds, nodding to you as you come close enough to get a good look at his face. To latch on to details like the too-blue shade of his eyes and the too-sharp canines in his smile, the silvery-white starburst of a scar across his stubbled chin.
“Christ you’re pretty,” you hear yourself say. This happens sometimes, your mouth just venturing off on its own to get you into trouble.
Kat groans overlap with the man’s chuckle. “Funny, I was just thinking the same thing,” he purrs, propping the lit cigarette between his lips and sticking out a hand. His palm is warm and callused against your own as you properly introduce Kat and yourself.
“I’m Soap, this here’s Ghost,” he offers in turn, nodding towards his friend who steps forward, murmurs a quiet greeting. He’s enough in the light now to reveal dark eyes shadowed under a hood, skeleton gloves and a matching skull-print balaclava pushed up far enough to accommodate a lit cigarette.
“Fuck me, that’s cool as shit,” you grin at him, immediately charmed by the weirdness of it all.
“Well, since you asked so nicely,” the man says affably, his voice a rumble deep in his chest. He doesn’t smile but there’s a little twist of his mouth that could be amused, if you squint.
“Jesus Christ,” Kat mutters, eyes shutting briefly in second-hand embarrassment. “She’s on a mission about compliments tonight, noticing people,” she tells them with bemused emphasis, turning to clear off the chairs and kick snow off the garbage can.
“I just think it’s important to be more open with our affection, even with strangers. Especially with strangers,” you argue, dropping into one of the seats and pulling out the battered Altoid tin that holds your stash and a few pre-rolled joints. “Will this bother you?” you ask the men, holding up one.
They shake their heads, amused.
“Good, because it’s my fucking bar,” Kat snorts, grabbing it from your fingers and dropping into the chair next to you.
“What, you own this place?” you say, flabbergasted. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Kat holds the joint in her mouth and cups a hand around her lighter flame, coaxing it to life despite the wind. She takes a deep drag, tilting her head up before releasing a thick cloud of smoke into the air.
It looks wicked cool right up until she folds in half, coughing desperately on the tail end of the exhale. You can’t fucking blame her; you’d bought it off your teenage neighbor, a science prodigy who claimed to have developed the perfect strain. Ivy League, he called it, since it had paid for his entire college fund.
Kat straightens up, red face feigning composure as she passes you the joint. “You never asked,” she finally says.
And that was just…well, fair, actually.
“Huh,” you say brilliantly, struggling not to cough on your own exhale and bidding adieu to any dreams of looking cool in front of all the fucking fashion models around you. “You know, I did wonder when you’d get in trouble with your boss about the free drinks thing. And the drinking on the job thing. And the this on the job thing,” you say, frowning as you contemplate the joint.
You offer it up to the men and Soap takes it, your hands brushing long enough to send a little fizz through your blood.
“You’ve known each other long, then?” he asks, taking a puff. Turning a vibrant shade of red as he heroically—and futilely—tries to hold in a cough.
“Oh, we go way back,” you say very sincerely. “I helped her bury the body of her ex-husband years ago, a mafioso named Jimmy the Janitor because he cleaned up, if you know what I mean.”
“I met you two months ago. And I’m a lesbian,” Kat contradicts blandly.
“I didn’t know that, either!” you exclaim, smacking her in the shoulder. “What the fuck, dude, I would have tried flirting with you ages ago.”
“You’re not my type,” she says devastating, and Ghost snorts when you dramatically mime a dagger to the heart. The joint glows red between his full lips, crossed with scars that shine silvery in the moonlight and trail up beyond his mask. Exhales in one long, smooth breath and looks suitably smug about it, the fucker.
“I do seem to remember you saying something earlier about me being ‘so hot I give you hives.’” Kat reminds you. “You telling me that wasn’t flirting?”
“Nah, that’s just being neighborly,” you beam at her.
“I shudder to think what your flirting does look like.”
“That’s the appropriate response, honestly.”
Ghost barks out a laugh and you shoot him a cheeky wink before turning back to Kat. “Alright then killer, gimmie the goods. What is your type?” you prod, hooking your ankle around her own. “Is it a black cat, golden retriever thing? I can bark, babe, just say the word.”  
Soap damn near chokes on his drink but Kat only sighs, more fond than exasperated. She takes the joint and leans in, bringing your faces only a few inches apart. You watch, riveted, as she brings it to her cherry-red lips and inhales deeply. Holds your gaze and leans ever so slightly closer, the moment stretching into eternity as she releases a slow, deliberate cloud of smoke directly into your face. You bring a hand to your mouth, think you might actually be drooling.
“MILFs,” she answers finally, devastatingly. She tucks the joint between your fingers before patting your hand and heading back inside—as good as a kiss on the mouth from anyone else.
“Steamin’ bloody Jesus,” Soap's voice is rough as the door closes behind her.  
“You’re telling me, pal,” you sink comically in your chair. “I think she broke me.” You’d already been drunk off the night’s joy but now you felt lightheadedwith desire, literally dizzy with it.
This is not an uncommon response to Kat, you suppose. Nor, you expect, to the pretty lads that remain.
You summon your forces and sit back upright, kicking over the newly empty chair over in offering. Ghost takes it, the plastic frame creaking under his bulk while Soap drops down on the garbage pail, resting his elbows on jean-clad knees. You pass around the rest of the joint in companionable silence, and it’s just…nice, all of it. The cold at your back and the heat of the lamp on your face, the fading alcohol buzz replaced by the sweeter, steadier high of the weed, always better at gentling your nerves and clearing your head. The easy camaraderie of smokers cast out into the cold, the same thing in almost every city and country you’d ever seen. You smile, thinking back on all those shared lighters and bummed cigarettes over the years. All those ships passing in the night.
“Gettin’ us a refill,” Soap finally says, standing up and snagging Ghost’s empty glass, hooking their pinkies together briefly in the action. You note it and immediately drop the thought, scalded. Know you will literally, actually combust if let your brain run-rabbit imagining the two of them together. All that muscle, all that strength, curved around each other, curved around you…
“What’ll it be, bonnie?” Soap’s warm voice snaps you out of your reverie and you flush, sure from his smirk that he can read the direction of your thoughts. You were legendarily bad at poker—couldn’t keep a neutral expression if they paid you to.
“Dealer’s choice, please and thank you,” you grin at him despite your embarrassment; turning down a free drink is against your moral code.  
He gives you that shark-like smile and Ghost tsks as he heads inside. “You’ll probably regret that, birdie. Johnny’s got atrocious taste.”
“Aye can fucking hear you, you Manc twat,” Soap calls from the door, a little extra Scottish in his snark. Ghost chuckles lowly, stretching his feet out into your space.
“It’s Manchester then, our kid?” you tease, kicking your foot playfully against his boot. Leaving it there when he lets you. “Whose your fighter then, Liam or Noel?”
He considers for a moment. “Liam. I like his spunk.”
“’A man with a fork in a world of soup,’” you quote, nodding approvingly. “I get that.”
You toy with the Altoids tin and debate lighting up another one.
Ghost fishes a pouch of rolling tobacco out of the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie and holds it up questioningly. “Clever boy,” you praise, and he leans forward to pass it to you, big hands dwarfing your own. When he settles back in his chair, he tangles his feet with yours properly and you feel a little flutter low in your belly.
You prep the blunt in a practiced motion, balancing the tin on your knees as you sprinkle the peaty tobacco overtop the flower evenly. “I’ve always been more of a Blur than Oasis fella, myself,” you finally offer to distract from the weight of his gaze. “Damon Alburn, the man you are,” you say, putting a fervent hand to your heart.
“Oi, we talking about the Gorillaz then?” Soap calls out, juggling glasses as the door shuts behind him, muffling the chatter from inside.  “Fucking choon after choon, them,” he declares, dropping back onto the pail.
He passes Ghost a rocks glass filled with an inch of amber that matches his own, his eyes tracking where your tongue runs across the filter paper, wetting it. He trades you the finished smoke for a glass with something alarmingly orange in it, another plastic sword stuck with three cherries laid across the top.
You sniff skeptically, all sweet and citrusy and strong. “This must be off-menu.”
“Dive bar innit, no menu to be off of,” Soap points out, and you smile at the familiar response.
You take a curious sip, looking up in surprise when you taste a bright splash of orange and vanilla across your tongue. “That’s fucking incredible,” you say, eyes wide. “What is it and why haven’t I been having it all night?”
Soap grins at you, looking suspiciously pleased with himself. “Had a feeling you were a lass that’d enjoy a slow, comfortable screw against the wall.”
Ghost groans, and you squint skeptically at Soap. “Who doesn’t, what’s that got to do with my drink?”
Soap laughs, delighted. “That’s the name of the drink, bonnie. A Slow Comfortable Screw Against The Wall,” he says with emphasis.
Ah. Well. That’s—oh, motherfucker. “Does Kat know that?” She’s probably laughing her ass off inside, the sadist.
“Oh, aye. She seemed amused. Though she made an unnerving amount of eye contact while stabbing the wee cherries,” he says, eying the garnish. “Scariest fucking thing I’ve seen in a minute. Put me in mind of someone we know, actually,” he says, giving Ghost a wry look as he takes a sip and sets the glass down.
He pulls out his own lighter to coax the blunt to life, a battered Bic with ‘SOAP’ scrawled in thick, Sharpied letters. He lets out a pleased sigh as the opaque smoke curls through the cold air then leans forward to rest his elbows back on his knees.
“Now, as for why you weren’t getting it slow, comfortable, or otherwise before now, I couldn’t say,” he tells you, blue eyes glinting with mischief. “But I think I speak for both of us when I say we’re more than happy to provide for the rest of the night. Isn’t that right L.T.?”  
“Right enough there, Johnny.” Ghost’s voice is closer to a growl, setting off a delightful curl of heat in your belly.
You nibble on your straw and pretend their attention isn’t going straight to your head, twice as intoxicating as the drink or the drugs. “You know what they say about variety and the spice of life. Might get bored with just a screw against the wall. Got any thoughts on horizontal surfaces?” you tease, enjoying the way Ghost smirks around the blunt.
But oh, is that a dimple you suddenly see carving out of one scarred cheek? Before you’re even conscious of it you’re leaning in for a closer look, balancing one hand on his knee. “I adore your dimple,” you tell him sincerely, undoing any hope you had of appearing cool and hard-to-get. “It is very cute.”
You give him a businesslike pat on the thigh and start to pull away, but he catches you gently before you get too far.
“Oh, sweet girl,” he purrs, petting over the soft skin of your wrist with one gloved thumb. “We’ll keep you entertained, don’t you worry. Bored is the last thing you’ll be, aye Johnny?” Ghost says, squeezing gently once before letting go. You try to play your delighted shiver off as one of chill, but you suspect your violent blush isn’t selling it.
“Oh, I fuckin’ swear to it, L.T,” Soap answers, winking at Ghost before unfolding his big bulk from the garbage can. “We’ll give you what need, bonnie, promise. Starting with this.” Then his arm is around your waist and you’re in the fucking air and—
Oh, that’s not so bad, actually.
Soap sinks into the lawn chair and settles you across his lap, surrounding you with delicious warmth and a scent like whisky and salt air. Your brain goes a bit soft and cottony for a moment and you latch on to the gentle pressure of his arms. Manhandling has always been a shortcut to your most devastated self, the kind of stupid and sweet and sated that you’ve only found once or twice through chemistry or luck or sheer fucking determination, and it bodes very well for the night to come.
Besides, for all he wears only a bomber jacket, the Scotsman is radiating heat like a furnace and it’s the perfect sensory foil to the plummeting temperatures, a few clouds coming to fleck the sky.
“Saw you shiver. Couldn’t let our girl be cold now can I?” Soap says, chucking you under the chin like a kid. Should be stupid but you fucking like it, can’t help but smile up at him. Can’t remember the last time someone treated you so sweet, like you were something to protect. To indulge.
Ghost’s eyes are fond on the pair of you, reaching out to trap Soap’s feet the same way he had yours a few moments before. One of his hands reaches to splay possessively over your thigh, resting it there and turning your insides liquid.
There’s no reason it should be as easy as it is, getting all wrapped up in each other as the night stretches on and the clouds continue to gather, chatting quietly and smoking through the rest of the blunt and finishing your drinks just as the first fat, fluffy flakes of snow begin to fall.
You watch, delighted, as the storm kicks up in a sudden flurry, a magical, glimmering coat that turns the world into one whole thing. Untouched and perfect and silent except for the tides of your breath and the slight hum of the heat lamp, small sounds within a vast, quiet night.
You sigh in Soap’s arms, totally and unexpectedly content, luxuriating in the way your blood hums in anticipation of the night’s inevitable conclusion.  
People asked if you got lonely, sometimes, travelling the way you did. Never staying anywhere for more than a few months, only occasionally breezing through past towns for a few loved-up reunions before the wind starts pressing at your back.  
And though it’s true you’ve been seeking a place of your own, a place where you could belong, this, too, means something. To have these beautiful, fleeting moments of connection with once-strangers, to lose yourself completely in the headiness of such quick intimacies, no less passionate or kind or devastating for their brief duration. All those countless moments of connection—romantic, sexual, platonic—coalescing into a kind of soft sweetness to hold on to long after you’ve forgotten a name or had a face grow fuzzy with memory.
All of that sweetness is swirling inside you as you nudge Soap’s chin with your head, drawing his attention from where he’d been conversing softly with Ghost, one hand petting absently at your waist.
“Take me home?” you ask softly, and his eyes melt at the question, his hand coming up to thumb a little desperately at your mouth.
“Oh, the Cap’n would love that,” Ghost drawls. “Fall arse-over-tits over a sweet thing like you walking through the door.”
“My home,” you clarify, though you’re not opposed—especially if their friend (captain?) looks anything like them. “I live like four blocks that way,” you chuck a thumb vaguely over your shoulder.
“Well why didn’t you say so, bonnie’,” Soap says, standing up and dumping you on your feet. Before you can be too offended, he grabs your chin and presses his mouth against yours, searing hot and leaving you breathless when he pulls away too soon. You look up at him a little dazed and he pets his thumb across your chin, grinning. “Ghost is right. Too sweet for your own good, darlin’. T’wouldn’t be right for us to let you walk home alone, sweet thing like you. Not in neighborhood like this.”
“Au contraire mon frère, I’m fast as shit,” you tell him, narrowing your eyes. This occasionally happened when you got crossfaded in particularly the right way, became possessed with the urge to tear off down a darkened street, drunk on the feeling of wind against your face and your heart hammering in your chest. Feeling like you could fucking fly. “No bad guy’s gonna catch me, no way.”
“That right, little rabbit?” Ghost moves as silent as his name, a sudden warmth at your back without you even noticing he’d left his chair. He curves that big body around you, nipping at the soft skin at your neck and caging you in against the firmness of Johnny’s chest. “Gonna let us chase you?” he near growls.
The thought sends goosebumps rising along your arms. To be wanted, to be chased. To be caught. Ghost groans when you lean back against him, tipping your head back to nip at his jaw in return. “Home. Now,” he commands lowly, pulling down his mask.
You can’t help your shit-eating grin as you tug them through the door and the thinning crowd to collect your long-abandoned things from the bar.
Kat eyes the three of you suspiciously. “If I find cum anywhere on that fucking patio I will have your balls in a bear trap,” she threatens.
“No promises,” you wink at her, laughing when she flips you the bird. You shrug on your coat and pick up your bag, which Ghost immediately appropriates, slinging it over one shoulder. He ignores your amused tug on the strap, looking over your head to plot the swiftest exit.
“Don’t wait up, babe!” you say, blowing a kiss to Kat as Ghost tows you and Soap toward the door.
“Call me if you need help burying the bodies,” Kat offers in response, and you cackle at the uncertain looks the late-night crowd shoots you both.
And then it’s just the three of you and the cold and the night, pressed together like you’re one body in the snow-crowned streets. 
138 notes · View notes