#Spreading the Light of Hope // IC.
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Car Rides
Pairing: Bucky X Reader
Summary: Road trips are usually pretty boring, but you and Bucky find a way to pass the time.
Warnings: Smut, Public sex, Car sex, Language, Fluff, Mutual Pining,
Word Count: 1.8K
A/n: I got this request AGES ago apparently and I'm only just seeing it now! hope y'all enjoy!
~*~
"Can you move your seat up?"
There's a brief pause, almost like Sam's thinking about it, before - "no."
Silence hangs heavily in the car for a long moment as Steve drives and you can't help but feel bad for Bucky.
He's squished in behind Sam, While you've got a decent amount of room behind Steve.
"We can switch, if you want?" You offer quietly, nudging Bucky's knee with yours.
"Steve's not stopping the car just so Terminator can feel more comfortable," Sam interjects, ignoring the ice of Bucky's stare.
"I'm sure we can switch spots while he's driving. We've done far more on missions with less room, I have faith. Unbuckle your seatbelt."
"Yes ma'am."
You take off your own seatbelt, ignoring Steve's warning look in the rearview mirror.
"Okay, I'm gonna climb over you in the middle seat so when you scoot over I'll climb over and then we'll be set!"
Foolproof! Brilliant!
Bucky scoots over to the middle and you take a deep breath, preparing yourself, then grab his shoulders and stretch one leg over his lap.
Steve chooses that particular moment to hit a bump in the road, sending you tumbling into Bucky and forcing his face into your chest.
Your shirt of choice today is fairly low cut, leaving little to the imagination, even less now that Bucky's face is pressed to your goods.
Regaining your coordination feels like it takes a lifetime, but you eventually manage to pry your boobs out of Bucky's face and plop down in the seat behind Sam.
Your heart hammers in your chest and you avoid looking at Bucky with all your might as you put your seatbelt on.
It's no secret that there's tension between the two of you that has only been growing the more time you spend together, but now? Now that you pretty much forced him to motorboat you?
Horrible. Stupid. The worst idea you've ever had ever.
You almost pray for the car to roll off a cliff to save you from the embarrassment licking up your spine.
The ride is silent for a little while, with some of Sam's music being the only thing stopping it from being too heavy, and soon his soft snores accompany the tunes.
After maybe about half an hour, Bucky's knee brushes against yours once briefly, then rests against it more firmly, with purpose.
Your gaze darts over to him but he's got his eyes focused out the window. You let your eyes fall to where he's manspreading into your personal space, and freeze when your eyes land on the bulge in his pants.
The bulge that certainly was not there before the two of you switched spots, not that you looked.
And now you can't tear your eyes away from it.
Sure, all this time the two of you have been flirty and a little more than friendly, but never to this extent.
Your eyes raise to his face once more and your heart stops for a moment when you meet his gaze.
You're caught now.
Swallowing hard, you glance at his crotch once more then turn to look out your own window, squeezing your thighs together in an attempt at fighting the warmth that's quickly spreading.
Bucky rolls his window down, and the light mechanical whirring sound masks the soft gasp that leaves you when his hand lands on your thigh.
You glance down at where his hand is, watching as his fingers flex as he squeezes your supple flesh.
Your body acts on its own, thighs spreading slightly and giving him the green light he needs to slide his hand up closer to your centre.
Eyes focused on the rearview mirror, you slowly grab Bucky's discarded jacket and drape it over your lap while spreading your legs further, successfully hiding his fingers as they dust over your core.
"Cold?" He asks, glancing at you as he slides his hand down your pants.
You swallow hard and nod, leaning back and breathing through your mouth as he slides a thick finger through your folds.
"With the window open it's a little breezy, but the fresh air is nice," you whisper, breath hitching when he rubs your clit gently.
He nods his agreement, coating his middle finger in your essence then slowly pushing it inside of you.
"Clears the head."
You nod, eyes falling shut as he begins a steady pace, pushing on your walls deliciously slow.
"Exactly," the words are a mere breath on your lips as you lose yourself in the feeling of him.
He leans his head back, his eyes focused on your face as he massages your walls, pulling his finger out only to push two right back in.
He watches as you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, brows furrowing as you try your hardest to stay quiet through the slow building pleasure.
It's almost torturously slow, and he knows that, but watching your small twitches and movements has Bucky's dick growing hard enough to cut diamonds.
"We got a good day for this, huh?" Bucky asks, grinning when you struggle to open your eyes.
"Yeah it's... good... it's really good," you whisper, eyelids fluttering slightly before you finally raise your glassy eyes to his.
"I could go for a snack soon though, something sweet to eat."
"Mhmm," you let out a soft moan of agreement as he slips a third finger inside you, pumping them in and out at a slightly faster speed than before.
Not fast enough to draw attention to the two of you, but fast enough for you to be struggling to keep still.
"Next gas station isn't too far out. They probably won't have much but we can stop there to grab a snack and stretch," Steve's voice says from the front seat, his eyes glancing at you and Bucky in the rearview mirror before focusing on the road again.
"Sounds good to me," Bucky says, his voice low and his mischievous eyes focused on you as you nod your agreement.
You dig your head back into the headrest, toes curling in your shoes as his palm rubs against your clit with every thrust of his fingers inside of your wet heat.
He stretches your walls deliciously, enhanced senses picking up the tangy sweet smell of your cunt on every gust of wind that blows through the car.
He can't help but lick his lips, greatly looking forward to tasting you once he's finished enjoying fingering your tight snatch.
Eyes slowly opening, you let your head roll to the side eyes finding his as you breathe softly through your mouth.
He grins cheekily at you and stuffs his fingers inside of you a little harder, watching in smug satisfaction when your face screws up with a mixture of pleasure and pain.
The car slowly rolls to a stop and Steve lets out a groan.
"All right. I'm gonna stretch my legs and grab a snack. Are you guys coming in?" Steve's eyes find Bucky's as he opens the door.
Sam jolts upright with a groan, rubbing his face then yawning and pulling off his seatbelt.
"I'm gonna come inside," He says groggily, stumbling out of the car and stretching.
"I think we're good back here, she's falling asleep," Bucky whispers, giving your clit a particularly rough rub before pulling his fingers out of you.
Sam and Steve head into the gas station, and as soon as they are out of sight Bucky is tossing the jacket off of your lap and yanking your pants down your legs.
He licks his fingers clean while using his other hand to undo his belt and shuck his pants down his thighs, exposing his weeping hot cock.
"We don't have much time, sweetheart, better make it count. N'when we get to the cabin I'll fuck you nice and slow and proper," he promises quietly.
You straddle his waist once more, wet core dripping onto his lap and Bucky can't help but hiss when he slides his aching cock through your folds.
He rubs your clit a few times then slides inside in one quick thrust, pressing his mouth to yours to swallow the sound of your moan.
With the window open, you guys aren't exactly safe. Anyone could drive or walk by and Sam and Steve will likely only be gone for a few minutes.
"Fuck, you feel so good, baby... shit..."
His voice is strained as you begin rocking your hips in his lap, eyes squeezed shut as the tip of his cock drags across your g-spot.
Rather than let you have your fun, he flips you onto your back in the back seat of the car and hammers his hips down to meet yours, his lips trailing over your throat as you moan softly at the new angle.
He's hitting your g-spot with every thrust, and kissing your cervix with every other roll of his hips.
The pleasure and pain mix and make your head foggy, and it doesn't take long for your toes to curl around Bucky's hips and your climax to creep up on you.
Metal fingers toy with your clit with expert precision, and within only a few moments, your walls are clamping down around him and successfully milking him of his cum.
He lets out a few shuddering breaths as his own orgasm washes over him, balls tight as he pumps you full of ropes and ropes of thick white cum.
His head rests on your chest for a moment, breathing you in as he basks in his high, and then he's carefully pulling out of you and yanking his pants back on.
You, on the other hand, are stuck on your back as aftershocks wrack your frame.
Chuckling softly at his handy work, Bucky helps you back into your pants then pulls you up into his arms.
You collapse against his chest when he leans back against the door, cuddled in his arms as much as you can in the cramped backseat of the car.
He holds you gently, his own eyes closing as he relaxes into his post orgasmic bliss with you.
Your heart is racing even minutes later when Sam and Steve return to the car, each climbing in quietly when they see the two of you curled up together.
Steve sets a grocery bag full of snacks and drinks down on the floor in the backseat, then turns the music on quietly and starts driving, oblivious to what's just gone on.
As he drives you settle against Bucky, falling asleep gently while his load drips out of your swollen cunt. A mess he plans on thoroughly cleaning up as soon as you reach your destination.
#Bucky X reader#Bucky X reader smut#Bucky Barnes x reader#Bucky X reader fluff#bucky fanfic#bucky smut#sam wilson#Steve rogers#bucky barnes#marvel smut#marvel fanfic#Bucky/reader fluff#Bucky X you#bucky/reader#bucky/you smut#bucky/reader smut
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SHUT UP AND DRIVE | JJK
PAIRING: street racer!jungkook x fem!reader
SUMMARY: Anyone could have predicted how bad it is to make a bet with your brother, yet you were hoping the outcome would be different. But alas, you were meant to be taught a lesson tonight; never go behind your brother’s back.
WC: 6.4k
WARNINGS: brother’s best friend trope, a lot of plot, light angst (if you squint), I know nothing about cars so there might be very inaccurate cars/street racing stuff. Smut, brief mention of oral sex (f receiving), brief mention of fingering, dirty talk, pet names, slight grinding, handjob, manhandling, jk calling mc dumb (1 time), unprotected sex, hair pulling, big dick!jk, jk didn’t pull out (oops). Can’t think of anything else, if I’m missing something lmk.
A/N: got a bit carried away with the plot oops, but i hope you enjoy your reading.
masterlist
Growing up in a city as big as yours, you had to learn to love its evident duality. How the sky would go from bright blue to pinkish to orange, and lastly a deep and dark blue that left you feeling at ease whenever you looked up at the stars. Those colors were the only indicators to make changes throughout the day. That characteristic transferred onto you with such an ease during the early stages of life, and now it was second nature to show different colors of yourself depending on the time and place you were found in.
The city would change and turn into a whole different place when midnight struck. During the day, streets were filled with the mouthwatering smell of food, along with the indistinct chatter of the pedestrians trying to find solace in the nearest place that would protect them from the scorching sun; under a bright blue sky. You would see kids clinging to their mothers while crossing the streets; teenagers racing their friends to the nearest convenience store, and betting their allowance on whoever gets first; along with couples sharing ice cream cones, with the sweetest of smiles plastered on their faces; covered in a pinkish color due to the beautiful sky looking down on them. You could even see people dreadfully walking towards their workplace for their 9 to 5 shift, with orange hues decorating the background. However, at night that scenario was completely erased.
The dark blue sky, tinted with the most beautiful array of stars would prone adults in their early twenties and late thirties to hop from bar to bar; looking for any alcoholic beverage to throw into their system that could make them forget about their overworked and underpaid jobs, or their stressful college life. The yellow hues of the street lights would adorn every dark corner, along with the neon signs outside the obnoxiously loud clubs scattered around the city, illuminating the excited faces of the pedestrians walking straight into those stuffy places. The music, albeit too scandalous for your own liking, served as an invitation for others to peek into the deceiving nightclubs, only for them to be wrapped into the tricky hands of an owner that would encourage people to spike others’ drinks.
But that’s what nightlife in your city was about, shitty alcohol, overrated music, and the occasional creeps lurking for anyone who they deemed “worthy” enough for them.
Nonetheless, that wasn’t the part of the city that you loved most. It was not the bars, not the clubs, not the alcohol, and certainly not the crazy people surrounding you in packed rooms. That would never make that thrilling sensation spread throughout your body to ignite a flame within your heart.
The south side would.
The abandoned buildings that served as a sanctuary for all those who wanted to take risks and forget about their lives, at least for a night. It would be the blaring music coming from the speakers of a severely modified ‘65 Ford Mustang. It would be the cold drink sitting in your hand, while you listened to one of your brother’s friends talk about his next race.
That’s what excited you, that’s what kept you alive.
Your brother was well known in the street racing world, everyone knew who Kim Taehyung was, and hence to that, everybody knew who you were as well. It was as if your brother had thrown a spell on you. Your name didn’t matter, though, it was pointless to urge people to use it, you were often addressed as Vante’s —which was the nickname people in the racing world would use to refer to him— little sister. And as annoying as it was, it was equally beneficial. The perks of having a popular brother would provide you with the nicest parking spot at Mura’s restaurant; it would draw people to pay for your drinks in order to make a good impression for either of you; but most importantly it would scare the creeps away, which you were very thankful for.
Taehyung often brought you along with him every weekend, racing in one of his precious cars that he worked so hard to get. While you watched —and occasionally cheered— him, swerving through lanes, pulling stunts that never failed to make your heart quicken its pace, and hold your breath until he was out of a dangerous zone. That’s what your life has come down to.
The roaring engines of classy and modern cars echoing through the streets; the smell of gasoline and smoke mixed with the aroma of anticipation and failure emanating from the racers; along with the scent of weed and beer. You were used to people walking a bit too close to you, invading your personal space to do simple things like asking where they can find the restroom —there’s none—. You were now accustomed to the wide view of your city at night, with the sparkly lights shining in the distance and the tall buildings looking small for once; almost untouchable.
“I’m telling you Tae, these new rims are worth it.” Jimin, one of your brother’s friends, was so desperately trying to prove his point.
He recently made a purchase for Taehyung’s car that was deemed unnecessary by your brother himself. His blond friend —although it wasn’t his natural hair color— was the one in charge of upgrading Taehyung’s car every now and then. His extravagant tendencies, however, would push him towards making decisions out of pure enjoyment and not strategically. Hence why the two guys were found in such a predicament.
A modification made under no other reason than to make the car look cool, which was, in hindsight, impractical. But Taehyung was the kind of guy that couldn’t say no to his friends, and so instead of asking him to change the rims back to his preferred ones, your brother opted to let out the longest sigh that his lungs allowed him to, and asked the important questions.
“Did you adjust the brake discs, at least?” He queried, in a flat voice.
“Of course, I did! Who do you take me for?” Jimin brightly answered, with a slightly faltering smile.
Park Jimin was an interesting guy. Whimsical as a fairy tale, and mischievous as they come, but with an IQ that would leave you wondering how a guy that looked like the embodiment of hardcore partying, would speak about mechanical stuff with such an ease and fluency. Amazing, in more ways than just one, never living up to the expectations of others, and more often than not, he would go to the farthest extents to be out of the ordinary.
At first glance, it was a stark contrast to who your brother was and made himself out to be, however, after being dragged into their nonsensical banter on more occasions than what you would like to be in, it was rightfully proved that both boys were more alike than what they would actually admit.
Truth be told, their exchanges were always comical. It wasn’t rare for the two boys to bicker and throw shady comments to one another in a monotone voice, which would make you think they were one hundred percent serious about the matter. But rather than ending up in a fight, they would simply laugh it off and move onto the next best thing to do, which usually was annoying you. And although it was unbearable to deal with a hyper-aware-of-his-influence-on-people type of guy and your I’m-too-cool-to-be-talking-to-you type of brother, you wouldn’t, in all honesty, have it any other way.
“I made Hoseok hyung do it.” Park’s unbothered demeanor finally broke under Taehyung’s piercing stare. “So rest assured, it won’t interfere with your race tonight.”
Your brother only hummed in acknowledgment, nodding once he was reassured that there would be no problem with his car.
“Speaking of which,” Your breezy voice slipped into their conversation easily, “where’s Hobi?”
Jung Hoseok was often described as the embodiment of a ray of sunshine, and rightfully so. The boy would light up a room whenever he stepped in, so unaware of how his lively attitude would be the best remedy for a gloomy day. Out of all your brother’s friends, you reasoned with him the most. Hoseok was easy to talk to, easy to be around. Whenever you felt like you were on the verge of losing your calmness, you would find solace in his soft arms, engulfing you in a warm embrace.
“He’s on the way.” Your brother responded shortly after. “Jungkook had to pick him up, but he’s coming, don’t worry.”
There was a glint in your brother’s eyes that left you slightly squirming in your place. Maybe it was the meaning behind the “he’s coming”, and how you were sure that he wasn’t exactly referring to Hoseok anymore at the last part. Perhaps it was the guilt that was rapidly creeping up in your chest, almost urging you to add some commentary to his response, to clear the air and come clean for once. Or it could be the fact that, deep down, you knew your brother was aware of your little secret.
It wasn’t a hunch anymore, Taehyung knew. And it was confirmed when his deep brown eyes slowly drifted towards you when both of his friends finally arrived.
An all black Mercedes AMG parked right besides your brother’s car, blinding you by its bright lights. Hoseok was the one to get out first, sporting a wide smile while walking towards where you and the other two boys were standing. With a faltering grin, you greeted the boy whom you were asking about no longer than a minute ago, however, in that precise moment, you were no longer preoccupied by his whereabouts. Instead, you held your breath, waiting for the person behind the steering wheel, the one who hasn’t made an appearance just yet.
“How’s it going, Hobi hyung?” Jimin asked, after a quick handshake with the aforementioned guy.
“It’s all good…”
Their conversation was tuned out for you the moment the driver's door was finally opened. It all happened at a tortuous slow speed; a pair of black combat boots were the first thing in sight, followed by a pair of washout baggy jeans and an oversized black t-shirt. Your eyes were quick to gravitate towards the tattoo sleeve the guy was sporting; fingers cladded in rings and a silver bracelet adorning his wrist. His fashion sense was one most guys envied, nonetheless, no one has been able to look as good as the man in front of you in oversized black clothes.
“Long time no see.” His amused tone snapped you out of your thoughts.
Jungkook was standing tall in front of you, with a mischievous look in his eyes, one that secretly warned you about the possible risky situation you will be in tonight. And as much as you’d want to say no, it was impossible for you to reject any proposition the boy was willing to make.
However, no one could really blame you for falling that hard for him.
Jeon Jungkook was a man often described as charming, flirty, funny and, evidently, attractive. Girls would fawn over the young man all the time, staring at him with bedroom eyes whenever he made an appearance; it was interesting the way Jungkook walked around as if he owned the place, lowkey bragging about his car and his winning strike with such confidence, but not even once he showed an ounce of arrogance when talking to you. He proved over and over again that the generic description people would give about him was undeniably true. He was charming, flirty and quite attractive, however, you would add another adjective to the long list of words that girls always used when talking about your brother’s friend; troublesome.
Jeon Jungkook was a walking disaster, a man worthy of a warning sign. The bright yellow with dark letters and a huge exclamation mark type of warning. But alas, you never noticed, not while he was charming you up since the first night you two met. You were in too deep now, with no way out, more than coming to terms with the consequences you were bound to face, once you decide to be honest with your brother that is.
“Haven’t seen you in a while, JK.” Taehyung was the first one to talk, making you look away from the man a few feet away from you. “How’s it been?”
“It could’ve been better.”
You could feel his piercing stare, but refused to look in his direction.
“Ready for tonight?” He opted to ask once he realized you weren’t budging. “Heard the prize is five grand this time.”
“Yeah, I’m taking all that money with me when I win.”
At that you scoffed playfully, looking at your overly confident brother.
“If you win.” A mischievous smirk took place on your face.
“You still doubt me, little sis?” Taehyung directed his attention to you, taking interest in the way you decided to finally insert yourself in the conversation. “Why don’t we make a bet then?”
Hoseok and Jimin were quick to encourage the proposition, fueling the fire for competition between you and Taehyung.
“What are we betting?” You questioned.
“Anything you want”
The possibilities were endless, you could bet money or his secret stash of snacks, hidden in his apartment; you could even ask him for his overly expensive shirt that looked better on you than it did him. But all those things were somewhat easy to provide, easy to give away; however, there was one thing that your brother has always refused to do.
“If you lose…” you drifted off, pretending that you were thinking about what you wanted. “I’ll be the one racing next Saturday.”
Taehyung’s face morphed into a grimace, his serene stance changed to one more rigid and tense. He wasn’t expecting your answer to be that, but then again, it should have been telling by the way you were so quick to agree to the deal.
“Oh and I’ll use one of your cars, too.” The cherry of the cake, as if your previous statement wasn’t enough.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea—” Jungkook wanted to mediate and make you ponder about your proposition and how dangerous it was.
“Alright.” Taehyung cut him off, with a decisive look in his eyes. “I’ll let you take any car you want.”
“And if Vante wins?” Hoseok asked, eagerly.
“I’ll tell her later.”
A weird feeling found home in your chest after your brother’s statement. Something within you was telling you that making that bet was the worst idea you could have had so far. Whether you didn’t want to ponder over it, or you were too sure that you would win, you didn’t argue about his ambiguous answer anymore. Instead, you let him make his way towards his car, getting ready for a race that would change a lot of things after tonight.
A cold hand was quick to wrap around your right arm, preventing you from following Taehyung’s path, like Jimin and Hoseok did.
“Are you sure you wanna continue with this?” Jungkook’s preoccupied voice almost made you coo at him, but at the same time it ignited a desire to push his buttons.
“Why wouldn’t I?” You argued. “It's fifty-fifty. Worst case scenario, I lose my race next week.”
After sending him a confident wink, you parted ways, positioning yourself next to Hoseok. You completely ignored the way Jungkook’s stare hardened, not willing to sour your mood with his protectiveness.
“You sure he’s gonna lose?” Hoseok asked beside you, staring right up ahead at Taehyung’s car. “He seems pretty confident, if I say so myself.”
“Why is everyone doubting me?” You groaned. “Of course he’s gonna act like that, because he needs to pretend he has everything under control.” The explanation wasn’t enough to convince your brother’s friend to be on your side. “Besides, Jimin changed his rims, that’s gotta do something to his performance, no?”
The brown haired man could only laugh, shaking his head as if saying that you couldn’t be more wrong. Your ego was bruised by his reaction. It was known that you didn’t like being laughed at or being the but of a joke you’d never understand. However, the situation in itself was way more than just your friend making fun of the little knowledge you had about cars. It was about how stupid you were for getting yourself a deal in which you won’t be the one winning.
“That just shows you’re not ready to be part of this anytime soon, little one.” Hoseok messed with your hair, before opting to pay attention to the race that was about to begin.
Taking a look at your brother, you could tell he was slightly worried, nonetheless, that worry was not enough to wash away the firm grip on the wheel or the determined look on his face. And it was just then that you realized the big mistake you made.
Maybe you should have been more clever, perhaps you really shouldn’t have pushed your luck in the way you did, but what’s done it’s done, and it was a bit too late to back down.
In hindsight, it should have been obvious who was going to be the winner tonight. Ever since you and your brother found your second home in the cold streets of the south side, Taehyung has never backed down from a challenge, let alone lose one.
So when the lady cladded in a mini skirt and tank top waved the blue bandana, you knew you were done for.
“… Set, go!”
All the cars drove past the girl at an incredibly high speed, almost knocking her out of the street. The cheering and shouting started way before the race could; people pushing others, urging them to move so they could see more clearly.
Looking away from the distant figures of the cars, you encountered a pair of brown eyes already staring at you. Jungkook hesitantly stepped forward to where you were, almost reminding you of the first time you met. His confident demeanor never made an appearance that night, and it certainly threw you off by how hesitant he seemed to approach you. However, you two hit it off right away, starting an easy conversation that led into more than it should have.
But once again, no one could really blame you.
On the night you and Jungkook met for the first time, you were entranced by his alluring physique and charming attitude. His black on black attire pulled you in, and urged you to take a few steps forward to make sure your eyes weren’t deceiving you.
He was the most handsome man you have ever seen in quite some time, and far from being exciting, it was annoying. It annoyed you the way the shiny piercing adorning his bottom lip looked so inviting, as if it was taunting you, begging you to risk it all and have a taste of it. His doe eyes were a stark contrast to who the guy seemed to be. His tough exterior got combined with a pair of big brown eyes covered in a soft glint.
It was unfair, it was annoying. Moreover, it didn’t help the fact that he granted you a beaming smile, while his tattooed hand reached out to take yours.
His whole existence was annoying, for he was off limits.
Therefore, you had to push your wandering —and very lustful— thoughts away, to the farthest corner of your mind. It was the only way to keep your relationship with your brother safe. No man will ever be worthy of messing things up with Taehyung… or so you thought.
The ugly truth was that you were tempted by the little devil on your shoulder, chanting for you to risk it all and drag the boy to the nearest dark corner, and give both of you a night that neither would be able to forget. It was hard to admit, but there was something about Jeon Jungkook that made you ponder if it would really fuck things up if you were to get intimate with him. For it was risky, as walking all alone in a deserted street at night, but tempting, like eating a forbidden fruit; and the possibility excited you.
Fast forward, the first time meeting him ended up being the first —but certainly not last— time the guy buried his face deep in between your legs, while his eager hands commenced a trip to memorize every curve and dent of your body.
No one knew at the time that amidst the deafening cheering, the blaring music coming from the speakers and the roaring of the cars’ engines, moans were falling from your swollen lips, while your back was pinned against the wall, with a pair of lips covering your body in wet kisses and avid hands were touching every inch of your skin. No one knew that while there was a race happening a few feet away from where you were located, you were also competing, desperately trying to reach your high, at the same time someone’s Camaro drove over the finish line, receiving wild cheers from the crowd.
The situation in itself was impractical and very stupid, however, in a matter of days you developed some sort of addiction towards the beautiful tall young man. And so, after getting accustomed to a routine of secrecy and betrayal, it stopped being a hard pill to swallow, but rather a recurrent predicament to be found in the strong arms of Jungkook, with his lips kissing up and down your neck while his skillful fingers were pumping in and out of your warm walls.
Even on regular days you would still yearn for his touch, playing on repeat his husky voice and the sweet nothings he would whisper in your ears, while thrusting into you.
“My pretty princess, taking me so well.”
It was like music to your ears, a melody that would lift you up so high to almost reach the sky. But despite the amazing feelings Jungkook would put you through, the unbearable truth of going behind your brother’s back and messing around with his friend outweighed the pleasure. You didn’t realize how fucked up you were by being involved in such a messy situation.
At least not until you were almost caught red handed.
“I missed you so much, princess.” A husky voice echoed through the confines of the Mercedes-Benz you were in, sending shivers down your spine. “Don’t make me wait this long to have you, ever again.”
The sentence uttered by Jeon Jungkook himself was intriguing enough for anyone who might hear it on passing, for you, nonetheless, it was sort of a complaint.
Truth be told, it wasn’t exactly your fault the lack of encounters in the past two weeks. Taehyung was starting to get suspicious, asking more questions than he usually would when you went out, he started to pay attention to every little thing Jungkook did when he was around. It was starting to become a bother for you to hide this little secret affair you two were having. And so instead of following the routine of coming over to Jeon’s place like any other day, you rain checked three times in a row. It upset him beyond belief; Jungkook was starting to get dependent on your delicate touch, on your sweet words and the pretty sounds you would make whenever he was buried deep inside you. He couldn’t stand not having you like he usually would.
In hindsight, it shouldn’t have surprised you when he pulled you out of the crowd and into his fancy car. It shouldn’t have been shocking the way his hands desperately reached out for you to position you on his lap; nor should have baffled you the way his crotch was grinding up against your core, seeking some comfort to calm the burning sensation running through his body. It was bound to happen.
“Let’s make up for the time apart, then.” You hummed, after placing a passionate kiss on his lips.
Without a second thought, your hands descended down Jungkook’s firm chest, finding their favorite place inside his pants. He felt heavy resting on your palms, and it was so obvious how painfully hard he was. Your fingers wrapped around his base, through his underwear, feeling him up. It was pure torture for the boy; not only did he need you to go faster, but he also wanted to feel the sheer touch of your hands on his aching cock.
His patience was running thin, that much was obvious by the way his gaze darkened, and the grip he had on your waist tightened.
“Princess…” Jungkook hissed. “If you’re gonna do something, do it now.”
You giggled, delighted by his eagerness and irritated voice tone. You were pushing him to the exact point you wanted to have him.
“Not so fast, baby.” You murmured against the skin of his neck, “I wanna enjoy this a little longer.”
Jungkook could only groan, letting you do whatever you wanted to him. It was so easy to be at your mercy, the tattooed man would effortlessly give himself up to you, with no objection. And that was your first mistake: taking more than you should from him.
While he was devoting his body to you willingly, it didn’t go beyond that. He wasn’t yours to take, he wasn’t yours to keep. You could only claim his body whenever he allowed you to do so. But maybe, deep down, that was enough. Perhaps having him physically was better than emotionally; that way you could avoid a complicated relationship that would need to be explained to your overprotective brother later on.
You had him for the time being, albeit not entirely, but attaining his heart seemed to be a hard task, one that you weren’t prepared to go through.
“Fuck baby, just move a little faster.” His strained words echoed through the car, snapping you back into reality.
Your hands were still wrapped around his clothed cock with a vice grip; you were sure that if it could, his dick would be already begging you to free it, and that thought alone was enough to boost your ego. Nonetheless, you ended up realizing you didn’t have much time to spare, despite wanting to keep toying with him. And so, putting an end to Jungkook’s suffering, you finally pulled down his jeans and underwear, watching his girthy cock spring free.
“Fucking finally.” He sighed in relief. “Are you gonna stop being a brat and let me fuck you dumb?”
“I don’t know, am I?” You smirked, mischievously.
Jungkook got fed up with your antics. The dark haired man groaned, pushing you off his lap and positioning you on your hands and knees, so effortlessly that it left you baffled for a few seconds. He rapidly pushed up the hem of your skirt and took off your underwear.
“I’m done playing this game of waiting.” Jungkook’s hands were firm on your skin, keeping you in place. “So be a good girl, and take my fucking cock.”
Without much of a warning, he thrusted into you. His thick tip made its way inside your cunt with ease, due to how wet you were already. It took you a couple of seconds to get used to his big size, but once Jungkook made sure it was safe to move, he bottomed out, reaching the deepest parts of your soaked pussy like no one before.
“I missed this pussy so much.” He hissed.
Moans were falling off your lips, as if they were the only sounds your mouth could utter, and maybe they were. Jungkook always knew how to turn you into a babbling mess whenever he got a hold of you. It was hard to form a coherent thought by the way he was skillfully moving inside of you, let alone to make any other sound that wasn’t a moan or a whine.
“Shit, you’re already clenching on me.” Jeon moaned, feeling your warm walls wrapped around his cock with a hard grip.
Jungkook was pounding relentlessly into you like a mad man. Maybe you underestimated his desire for you, perhaps all these days apart were actual hell for him, as it was for you. But then again, when hasn’t he been like this? It wasn’t out of the norm to be fucked into oblivion by Jungkook. He would often find creative ways to ruin you, to leave you a complete mess once he was done with you.
Hasn’t it been clear already, how much he could do for you? How bad he needed you?
“Jungkook… fuck.” His name left your mouth in an attempt to beg for mercy, for him to slow down a little, but it was pointless. Not even God himself would make him relent.
“What’s that baby? I can’t hear you.” His fingers weaved through your hair to get a good grip, pulling your head back as he leaned down to whisper in your ear. “Be a sweetheart and finish your sentence for me, hm?”
Your eyes rolled back, enjoying how deep he was going. Neither your mouth nor your brain seemed to work at the moment, and it was difficult to comply with what Jungkook asked of you.
“Come on, princess, don’t make me repeat myself.” Every word was accompanied by a hard thrust.
“It’s— too m-much...” You struggled to say, while your mouth hung low and an obscene sound came out of it. “Please…”
A chuckle rumbled inside Jungkook’s chest, transferring the vibrations onto your body. He was so deliciously close, that it was easy to sense every reaction, to hear every little sound that would abandon his lips unwillingly.
“Please what?” He urged you to keep talking. “Baby so dumb that can’t even speak properly, can she?”
His words shouldn’t arouse you in the way they did, but oddly enough, his husky voice combined with the rude term ignited a flame inside of you. However, you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing you were enjoying every bit of it.
“Fuck… you!” The words came out through gritted teeth.
“That’s what I’m doing, honey.” Despite not being able to see him directly, you could tell he was grinning. “Can’t you feel me? Should I go deeper then?”
Had you been more clever, you would have kept your mouth shut, because if it was difficult to deal with his unrelenting pace, it became unbearable when he changed the speed only to thrust harder and deeper than before.
“Can you feel me now, princess?”
Such a dangerous question, one that set your body ablaze.
“Y-Yes… So big.” You breathed out, finally being free from his hard grip on your hair. “I’m getting close.” The confession was somehow refreshing.
It meant that you could finally have your sweet release, but only if the man fucking you manically deemed you worthy of having it, that is.
Unfortunately for you, he had other plans in mind.
“Hold it a little bit, baby. I’m not there yet.”
Jungkook’s stamina has always amazed you; the guy could go for hours without taking more than a five minute break, and not even once he complained about it. Whereas you had to take longer breaks in between rounds, and more often than not, you would only last from two to three rounds before calling it a night. Maybe he was more experienced, or perhaps it was his breathtaking physique. Whatever it was, it often came in handy in times like this.
“Jungkook,” You breathed out his name. “I can’t— I’m so close.”
Your walls were clenching on his dick, sucking him in with ease. It was such a marvelous sensation that almost drove the tattooed man over the edge.
“Fuck, you’re making it difficult for me, doll.” Jungkook chuckled breathlessly. “But I want to see your face when you cum.”
Without pulling out, Jeon flipped you over to make you rest on your back on the leather seats of his fancy car.
“Hi, pretty girl.”
Ever since you got into Jungkook’s car, you haven’t been able to properly look at his face for long. It was such a beautiful sight. His disheveled hair sticking to his forehead due to the sweat; his rosy and swollen lips, probably from biting them so much; his lustful glare directed towards you, and his furrowed eyebrows due to how good it felt to be inside of you after so long. Everything about Jeon Jungkook was undeniably attractive, and beyond arousing you, it ignited a warm feeling in your stomach. One that was difficult to mistake for anything else than infatuation.
However, it wasn’t the right time to be thinking about it. Your heart wasn’t connected to your brain, apparently, and so it made you ponder over scenarios that fell into the category of fantasies.
“You gonna cum for me, baby?” His question was left unanswered the moment one of his hands flew down to rub your clit. “There you go, princess, make a mess on my cock. You’ve earned it.”
You didn’t need to be told twice. It took a few more thrusts for you to finally let go, crying out his name while your hands reached out to pull him down on you. There was a need installed in the depth of your soul to have him close at all times; to feel his warm skin burning against yours.
“That’s it, beautiful, just let go.” His whispers were like a comforting blanket thrown upon you, encouraging you to move your hips to help him reach his high. “Atta girl, no need for that baby. Let me do the work.”
His pace finally slowed down, while his strong arms wrapped around your waist and his face was buried in the crook of your neck. Jungkook was desperate for his release, but at the same time, he wanted to enjoy the moment a little longer. As a result, his slow pace guided him steadily to his orgasm, thrusting deep inside of you and moving his hips in circular motions to reach every corner of your insides. Touching places no one has ever touched before, and providing you with a sensation that always left you craving more.
A few more thrusts and Jungkook was finally falling apart, groaning against your neck, while his soft lips were bathing your skin with warm kisses. His hot breath was also hitting your flesh, sending shivers through your body; making you harden the grip on him.
“I could stay like this forever.” Jungkook sweetly whispered. “You’re so warm.”
You giggled, scratching the back of his head before slightly pulling away.
“But we need to go, before any of the guys start looking for us.”
The tattooed man groaned annoyed, slowly detaching himself from you.
The rest of your usual routine would often happen in a comfortable silence, this time, however, neither of you could actually stop smiling or stealing kisses from one another. It was sickeningly romantic, and it almost made you wonder what it would be like to be in an actual relationship with the tall boy sitting beside you.
“Just one more kiss.” Jeon begged, lightly pulling you in, to place his soft lips on yours.
“That’s enough.” You stopped him, with a shy grin on your face. “You go first.”
Reluctantly, Jungkook opened the door, ready to get out and act as if he wasn’t making you see stars a few minutes ago. Although, your happy and exciting moment was short lived.
“JK, there you are dude.” Hoseok’s voice rang through your ears, making goosebumps coat your skin in a matter of seconds. “We’ve been looking for— wait, did I interrupt something?”
A knowing small took place on the brown haired man’s face, not before playfully smacking his arm to tease him.
“Uh… I, kinda, yeah.” Jungkook was praying he couldn’t recognize you. But the moment Hoseok tried to look inside his car he quickly closed the door, taking a few steps away from the vehicle. “What’s up? Why were you looking for me?”
The moment their voices became indistinct chatter you could finally release the breath you were subconsciously holding. Your hands slowly relaxed their grip on your skirt, but the anxious feeling settled in your chest, refusing to leave.
“This needs to stop.”
The only problem was that you didn’t know how to make it stop.
The wild shouting from the crown snapped you back into the present. Reminding you of the place you were in, the people you were surrounded by, and the fatal bet you made early in the night.
A bright white Camaro ZL1 was rapidly approaching the finish line, with the roaring of the engine echoing through the street, and making the ground vibrate a little. Fate has dealt its cards and sadly they weren’t on your side. Defeated and tired of experiencing an array of emotions through the long night, you waited at the side of the road for your brother to cross the red line.
Anyone could have predicted it, yet you were hoping the outcome would be different. But alas, you were meant to be taught a lesson tonight; never go behind your brother’s back.
“That’s my boy!” Jimin excitedly yelled while walking towards Taehyung’s tall figure. “I told you the rims were perfect.”
Your brother could only chuckle, shaking hands with his friends before directing his full attention towards you.
“Seems like I won’t be racing next week.” You faked annoyance, although in reality you were sort of relieved. Maybe Hoseok was right after all, and you weren’t ready for that world just yet.
Everything seemed fine so far, no malicious intent, no ulterior motives. No way to predict the chaos that was about to unravel. Perhaps you should have prayed with a little bit more conviction, maybe you should have put more effort into making sure you would win. Otherwise, your downfall could have been prevented.
“So, what do you want as your prize, idiot?” You asked, so confident that nothing bad could happen.
Your brother slowly prepared to say the words that would inevitably change the route of the night.
“It’s very simple, in all honesty.” Taehyung started saying. “I want to ask a quick question.”
“Shoot.” You encouraged him.
Oh, if only you had known.
“I just want to know for how long?” His piercing glance should have given it away. “How long have you been fucking my best friend behind my back?”
#jeon jungkook smut#jungkook smut#jeon jungkook x reader#jungkook x reader#jk x reader#jeon jungkook fanfic#jungkook fanfic#bts smut#bts x reader#bts fanfic#🥢town originals!#🥢.townsmut!
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a lover's pinch | one
joel miller x f!reader
pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader
rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni
summary: a one-night stand with a charming texan turns into something much more thrilling when you discover he is your new college professor.
warnings/tags: au, age gap [20 something years diff], alcohol consumption, irrational sexual tension, smut, sex in a public place w/ a stranger [and i'm talking depraved/zero time wasted/known you for thirty minutes type strangers], oral [f receiving], protected piv, rough sex, dirty talk, a spot of degradation + misogynistic language, a split second of soft!joel, you get the picture
word count: 5.9k
series masterlist | main masterlist
a/n: my friends.... oh boy, oh boy. this series is a complete au, self-indulgent, fantasy land idea that has plagued me for weeks. horny academic brain rot to the highest degree. hope some of you enjoy it with me x
Friday.
You sit with three almost strangers.
Listen to them talk about their summers and their families and their degrees as you twirl a straw around your half-empty glass, disrupting the melting ice as you try to wrap your head around what a master’s in environmental engineering might entail. One of them, the only man at the table, takes great pleasure in explaining it to you all for the second time. You take mental notes and hope he’s not expecting you to remember words like sparging and leachate.
They do ask you about your undergrad, and your internship, nodding and smiling curiously. They don’t ask what type of job you plan on getting after your postgrad, which is a welcome relief. The bombardment of questions from immediate and extended family is enough.
Cousins wondering aloud, saying you study Greek mythology, right?
Or your grandfather, before he died, berating you ad nauseam at family events about what’re you gonna do, kid? Be a historian? There’s no money in being a historian. Now, being a lawyer, that’s where the money is.
And you’d respond no, not quite Greek mythology, and no, I don’t plan on being a historian, as you gorge yourself on red wine and triscuits and wait for Christmas to end.
Thankfully you aren’t expected to rehash these scenarios with your almost strangers, who routinely ask a few well-mannered questions and then go back to talking about themselves.
After a week of living with them, in a new house, and a new city, you’re becoming used to their company. The way the four of you commune lazily in the kitchen most mornings, swathed in the light streaming through a window above the sink, making idle small talk as you wait for coffee to brew. How Pete and Trin study opposite each other at the dining table, while Nora prefers to spread her limbs across the couch, laptop balanced precariously on her stomach. She’s doing her master’s in education, which she describes as an expensive way to get a pay rise. She’s kind, with wild curly hair and dark humour, and is easily your favourite of your new roommates.
It was her idea to go out that night. One last hurrah, she’d called it. Before we enter the final circle of academic hell next week. And between four overworked, already burnt-out, twenty-something students, it hadn’t taken much convincing before you were sharing three bottles of wine and hightailing it to the bar with the highest Yelp rating.
The late August air is dry; a faint warmth that follows you into a quaint bar in downtown Biddeford. The space is small and crowded with patrons, with dim overhead lighting that casts a soft glow across the booth you’re crammed into. A thin sheen of sweat coats your skin, and your shirt sticks to your back uncomfortably. The others seem unbothered by the heat, nursing sweaty glasses and discussing how different Maine is from where they all grew up. You involve yourself here and there, offering up stories about your family and friends from back home, and suddenly an hour has passed, and then another, and you’re pleasantly tipsy, body humming as alcohol spreads its way through your veins, and your latest drink is practically empty, spare a few melting ice cubes.
“I need another drink,” you tell Nora, who nods absently before turning her attention back to the others.
You wander toward the bar, fumbling for your phone as you go. Fall in between two leather cushioned stools and rest your elbows atop the sleek wooden counter. Check your bank account and mentally traverse the list of reasons for returning to student-life when you see the number staring back at you. I don’t want to be a lawyer, I don’t want to be a lawyer, I don’t want to be a lawyer, your internal monologue runs, although you could admit how sweet a solicitor’s pay check would feel right now.
It’s a low, Southern drawl that pulls you from your reverie.
“Mind if I sit here?”
Deep. With a rough, lilting quality that piques your interest and has your eyes drifting upward from your phone screen.
You notice his body first; a tall frame with thick arms, thick shoulders, thick neck. A navy-blue t-shirt that stretches thin around his biceps, hugging the tan skin there. And then you look higher, and—oh.
Your heart stutters a beat out of time as you take in his face. Loose brown curls that are just long enough to hang across his forehead. Dark, almond-shaped brown eyes. So dark they almost appear black on the first glance. The strong nose and dark hair across his jaw, dappled with streaks of grey. A moustache resting atop a set of dark pink lips. Gone are thoughts of academia, of bank accounts, of your almost strangers. All replaced in an instant by wanton, pulsating desire.
Something like surprise cuts across his face, but it disappears just as quickly. In a far recess of your brain, you register that he must be at least twenty years older than you. You wilfully ignore the thought, perfectly content to continue admiring him.
A dark eyebrow ticks upward then, and you realise you haven’t responded.
“No,” you rush, flashing him a quick smile. “All yours.”
He gives you a pleased nod, a hint of a smirk passing over his lips as he sits down. He looks vaguely uncomfortable perched on the tall chair, all six-foot-something of him cramped onto such a small cushion. You cast a single glance back towards the booth, and then slip onto the stool beside him.
Silence descends between you for a moment. A song by The Eagles plays faintly, but you can’t figure which one - too distracted to make out the lyrics. You take a careful sip of the melted ice at the bottom of your glass, taste the last remnants of tequila in it, and watch him out of the corner of your eye.
“’m Joel,” that accent rings again, sending a volt of warmth through your chest.
You tell him your name, fingers fiddling with the hem of your skirt. If he notices the tension in your posture, he doesn’t let on. “You a Southern man, Joel?” The name feels warm on your tongue. Soft and silken like honey.
“S’it that obvious?” he grins crookedly, pink lips tearing back to reveal a straight white smile.
“An accent like that is hard to ignore,” you smirk. “It’s not a bad thing.”
‘Thought it would fade a little since I moved here,” he explains. “Y'can take the man outta Texas, but… you know.”
You hum, eyes alight as you watch him speak. His mouth is beautiful, lips parting around prolonged vowels.
“You here alone?” he asks.
“No,” you say. “With friends.”
“Let me guess,” Joel tilts his body, glancing around the bar. His shirt shifts with the movement, hem raising to reveal the slightest hint of a soft, tanned stomach. He points somewhere over your shoulder. You shut your mouth, careful not to gawp. “Them.”
You turn, a soft laugh of surprise bubbling up through your chest when you spy the bachelorette party set up across the bar. Women dressed in gaudy shades of pink. One of them with a sash—reading Jenny’s Big Day—across her chest, a short veil pinned to her head, and an empty champagne glass clutched in her fist. One of them teary-eyed, gripping the bride’s arm and yelling something in her ear, sloshing champagne onto herself all the while.
“You got me,” you turn back to him with a grin. Hold your hands up in mock surrender. “I wouldn’t be caught dead missing Jennifer’s last night as a free woman.”
The corners of his eyes crease, entire face blossoming into a smile now. He has a dimple on his right cheek.
“Knew you were a good girl,” he nods. Says the words in a matter-of-fact tone. Something twists in your stomach, and your palms dampen. You wet your lips quickly and don’t back down from his gaze, allowing the corner of your mouth to kick up a little.
“And you?”
His eyebrows raise in a silent question.
“Who’re you here with?” you clarify.
“Just you, darlin’,” he says, left eye dropping in a quick wink.
It's easy with him, you find, and the two of you sit there for a while; exchanging small talk about Maine, the hot weather, the music at the bar, slipping in flirtatious comments that are about as subtle as a neon sign, until he finally spies the empty glass in your hand.
“What are you drinkin’?” he asks.
“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” you say, hoping it doesn’t come across too eager. He seems pleased though. There’s something provocative to his gaze, a teasing warmth that raises the temperature of your skin wherever he looks. But whatever it is, it’s gone by the time he reaches across the bar for the bound beverage list.
He peers at the menu, squinting ever-so-slightly to see through the dim lighting of the bar. The skin beside his eyes is soft and creased with age, crow’s feet that hint at years of laughter and smiles. You wonder again how old he is. How much older than you.
“Forget your glasses?” you tease, testing the waters.
Joel’s eyes flash up to yours. The muscle in his jaw ticks.
“Watch it,” he says. There’s a playful note in his voice, but it rings deeper somehow—a hint of a warning.
Your thighs squeeze together on the stool, warm sweaty skin peeling off the tacky leather as you move. His eyes dart to the bare skin of your legs, and then back to the menu.
He orders you both a whiskey, and a moment later the bartender is sliding a crystal tumbler in front of you. A finger of amber liquid with a single grandiose sphere of ice resting in it. Fancy.
“Cheers,” he holds his glass out. You knock yours against it gently before taking a short sip, fighting a grimace as it burns down your throat.
He watches your face closely, tries to gage your reaction. You take another sip, holding strong in your efforts to show him that you can handle it. Whatever he wants to give to you, you can handle.
“So what brings you here?” he asks. You notice how large the glass feels in your palm, and how small it appears in his. Long, thick fingers wrap around the object, dwarfing it. He takes a sip, and you watch him swallow. His Adam’s apple bobs, and you want to graze your teeth across it.
“To the bar or to Maine?”
“Either.”
“Well, I just moved into town last week, from the West Coast. It’s actually my first week back in the US; I was travelling before the big move.”
“Busy girl,” his tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth. You blink. “Travellin’?”
“I was in Greece,” you explain, sip your whiskey and definitely don’t grimace at the harsh taste. “For a month or so.”
“A month in Greece?” His eyebrows raise and he does a low, impressed whistle that has your stare zeroing in on his mouth.
“Ever been?” you ask faintly.
“No,” his reply is swift. “Never had much interest.”
And you’re nodding absentmindedly, but you can’t seem to drag your stare away from his mouth as he speaks. The trance is only broken when he raises his glass for another sip, and you shake yourself out of it, eyes shifting to stare into his brown orbs once more. They’re darker than you remembered, gaze loaded as he looks back at you. The tension was palpable when you first sat together, but now it feels impossible to ignore; an electric tangle of wire between the two of you that just keeps getting shorter and shorter. And you think, fuck it, if you’re about to descend into the final circle of academic hell, why not have a little fun?
“Can I tell you something, Joel?”
You say it softly, make your voice as sultry as possible. He watches you over the rim of his glass, eyes sparkling with intrigue. And then his mouth tilts into a sort of knowing smirk, and he’s nodding.
“I’d really like to kiss you,” you confess.
He hums, smirk broadening.
Sets his glass down on the bar top with a soft clink, and then lowers his hand to the bare skin of your knee. You gasp at the contact, nerves fraught. The callouses on his fingers scrape against your skin in slow, rhythmic circles, goosebumps raising in their wake. His fingers are long, and as he tenses them over you, squeezing your knee once, you see the way deep blue veins flex beneath the skin, hot blood pumping through him. Your stomach turns molten.
“Is that all?” he asks, a taunting lilt to his voice.
Your mouth is dry, eyes wide as you sense the proposition in his words. The hint of something darker—something greedy—in his gaze.
“No,” you say definitively. “That’s not all.”
A sharp tut escapes his mouth, fingertips dragging higher on your leg as he shakes his head. “Do you have any idea how old I am?”
“Don’t look a day over forty,” you hazard a guess, resting your shoe onto the rung of his stool, using the leverage to drag yours closer. Both your legs are between his now, thighs bracketing thighs. The denim of his jeans scrapes against your outer thighs, and you shiver. His hand pauses, fingertips just shy of the hem of your skirt.
Joel wets his lips. “Guess again, sweetheart.”
A low heat licks at the base of your spine, spreading its way through your veins until you feel like you could combust at any given moment. Fuck it.
“Don’t care,” you mutter, and drape your hand over his. You trace your nails over his skin, feel how the bones shift underneath it, how warm he is. He still doesn’t move, face pensive as he regards you. You arch an eyebrow. “You approached me, you know.”
His lips purse tightly. Another squeeze to your thigh, fingers moving again. “I know.”
Driven by boldness, by arcane desire, by animalistic instinct, you lean forward on your barstool and rest your hands atop the thick expanse of his thighs. Hear his breath kick as your nose traces the side of his square jaw, lips settling at the shell of his ear. Right at the soft, sloping crest of his neck. And you whisper those same words again, quiet enough that no one in the world can hear it but him, can I tell you something?
Your movement drove his hand higher on your thigh, the heavy weight of it now settled beneath your skirt, fingertips skimming the indent where your leg meets your hip, toying at the soft fabric of your underwear there. Painfully close to where you want him.
“Yes,” his deep voice rumbles.
Ever so slowly, your tongue slides out of your mouth to trail against his earlobe. Joel’s thighs tense beneath your palms, and you roll the balls of your thumbs against the muscles there.
“I want to kiss you,” you murmur. “So I’m going to. And then I want you to fuck me, just like I know you want to.” Your teeth graze his lobe, and you bite it once, gently, before rearing your face back to peer at him. “Hmm?”
The muscle in his jaw jumps, shifting beneath the skin, and instead of responding verbally he cups your face with a rough hand. Cool drops of condensation from the glass have stuck to his fingers, and the liquid smears across your skin as he cradles your jaw and draws your mouth to his.
Soft lips envelop yours, the coarse hairs of his moustache tickling your face as he steals the breath from your lungs. And when you lick into his mouth you can taste peppermint on his teeth, and then that oh so familiar whiskey tang across his tongue. You don’t mind the taste so much when it’s on his lips.
You nuzzle closer, dig your fingertips firmer into his thighs and grin when a deep groan falls from his mouth into yours. Wet heat pools between your thighs, liquid fire that stokes at your insides, begging for more more more of him. And, as if he can read your mind, Joel is dragging his mouth away, teeth grazing against your swollen bottom lip as he departs.
“Bathroom,” he says, voice low and commanding. “Now.”
Shock and excitement lace your blood, the proposition of something so dirty, so lewd, making your heart race. With your pulse a dull, thrashing roar in your ears, you allow Joel to help you down from your stool. Your legs feel unsteady now that you’re back on solid ground. Gripping your hand, dwarfing it in his, Joel tugs you away from the bar top and towards an obscured hallway. You amble past the bachelorette party, down the dark hall and then he’s pressing a dark hand against the ambulant bathroom door and dragging you inside, sliding the lock shut behind you.
Joel’s on you in a second, arms bracketing you against the door as his wet mouth slips over yours. His hands are so big, all wide palms and long fingers splaying across the entirety of your back, tucking you against his solid chest. He bunches your shirt in his hand, twisting the material between his fingers as he pushes into your mouth. Tongue hot and wet, gliding against your teeth, your tongue, tasting you, devouring you. there’s nothing polite about it. No more wariness, no more hesitation, no more eyes that could see the two of you at the bar. He’s insatiable, touching you everywhere he possibly can, and even then it doesn’t seem like enough for him.
“Fuck, I want you,” you say against his mouth. He makes a low sound in response, and one of his palms lower to grab a handful of your ass, dragging your hips against his. You can feel him, hot and hard, straining in the confines of his jeans. Your hand presses into the crevice between your bodies to palm him through the material, grinning into the kiss when he groans. His lips trail a slick path across your cheek, past your jaw.
“Gonna let me fuck you here?” his hot breath fans across your neck, tongue darting out to taste the salty sweat there.
“Yeah,” you say. “Fuck—yes.”
He steps back, dragging you with him, and then he’s turning you around so that you’re facing the mirror. Your hips dig into the sink, and he’s holding you there, forcing you to stare at your reflection as he bites and licks and sucks down your neck with reckless abandon, leaving marks in his wake. There’s a low, steady throbbing at the apex of your thighs, and you can feel how your underwear clings to your skin, damp and ruined. You whimper, tilt your chin up to give him access to more skin. He grinds against your ass in response, and then he’s crouching down on the ground behind you.
Fast hands push your skirt up over your hips and then flare across your ass, massaging the flesh there. You feel a nip of teeth against the sensitive skin there and flinch into the porcelain. He makes quick work of dragging your underwear down to dangle precariously at your knees. And then long fingers are spreading you apart, revealing you to him. You tilt your hips back so he can see more. Moan at the sensation of cool air rushing to meet your dripping core.
You think you can hear him speaking, but can’t be sure over the sound of your heartbeat in your ears and the low music playing in the bar. And then it doesn’t matter anymore, because you can feel his hot tongue glide through your folds, parting you like the sea. He buries his face in you, nose nudging against your asshole as his tongue swipes at your clit, moaning roughly as he absorbs the taste of you. You’re gasping, hooded eyes staring back at you in the mirror, and this time you can definitely hear him saying you’re so fuckin’ wet. The flat of his tongue smears from your clit to your entrance, and then he’s sinking it inside you. You reach behind your back and card your fingers through his hair, gripping the salt and pepper curls between your fingers and holding him against you. Joel doesn’t complain, groaning as you tug on his locks in encouragement, in fucking desperation.
Your thighs tremble where they bracket his head, threatening to squeeze around him at any moment if it weren’t for his vice grip keeping your spread apart. A choked sob of a moan claws its way out of your throat and then he’s standing again, chest against your back as you hear the clink of his belt coming undone, and he’s saying, I know, I know, you need it so bad, don’t you?
Your hand skirts around the firm sink and slips between your thighs, fingertips ghosting over your throbbing clit. The sound of foil crinkling echoes around the room, and you hear him exhale a ragged sigh as he rolls the condom down his length. You peek over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of him, eyes widening as you take in the sheer size of his length. It’s long, with a prominent vein running from base to tip. It pulses, raging beneath the skin, practically daring you to drop down and run your tongue along the length of it. And you would if you thought he’d let you.
“Shit,” you breathe, skin tingling with a fresh wave of nerves and anticipation.
“It’s alright,” his voice is a low rasp, filling your ears like molasses, and his hand is rising to push stray hairs out of your face. “So fuckin’ wet f’me, I know you can take it, honey. You gonna show me how good you take co—”
He cuts himself off, eyes narrowing as he spots your fingers shifting between your thighs.
“So impatient,” he smacks your hand away with a grunt. “Silly little slut, can’t wait just a minute for me?”
A broken moan falls from your lips, shameful heat soaring through your chest. You shouldn’t love the way that word sounds falling from his lips, shouldn’t be so turned on by it, but you can feel how the ache in your core intensifies, and so you push your hips back against him.
“’m sorry,” you whine pitifully.
“You want it that bad?” Joel asks. His lips brush your earlobe as he nudges the thick head of his cock between your folds, gliding it through your slick once, twice, before notching himself at your entrance.
“I want it,” you gasp. “Wanted it from the second I saw you, Joel, please, pleas—”
Joel curses under his breath and loops a hand around your front, pushing the neckline of your shirt down to reveal your left breast. He slips his palm underneath the cup of your bra, long fingers pinching at the peaked bud of your nipple. Your skin burns under the attention, and you push your chest further into his hold.
“Shit,” he grunts, beginning to press himself inside. “I wanna fuckin’—wreck you, sweetheart.”
“Whatever you want,” you’re pleading, arching your back for him. Your fingers tighten around porcelain, bracing yourself. “Give it to me.”
You hear a muted, dark chuckle before Joel says, “Whatever I want, huh?”
And then he’s pressing inside you with a single, harsh thrust. His thighs come flush with yours and you gasp, face twisting at the sharp sting. The weight of him inside you is heavy, and you squirm at the intrusion, shifting on your feet. He allows you a moment—just a moment—to adjust to him, before he’s moving.
Joel finds a pace he likes and sets it. Heavy, unrelenting, expert rolls of his hips that have his tip brushing against the opening of your cervix with every shift forward. The air fills with harsh sounds of skin smacking against skin, and stilted moans and spilling from your lips as your hipbones collide rhythmically with the sink.
“Christ,” he spits, hand leaving your breast to grip your jaw. He forces your face forward, pace never slowing. “Fuckin’ look at you.”
You do as your told, gazing at yourself in the mirror. And you look wrecked. Hair a wild halo around your head, makeup smudged around your eyes and mouth, lips swollen and shiny with spit.
“Bein’ so—fuckin’—good,” he punctuates the words with his thrusts. His thumb digs into your cheek, and you can see him grinning in the mirror, lips peeled back to reveal that fucking perfect smile. “Dirty little thing, lettin’ a stranger fuck you like this.”
You mewl in response, stomach tensing as his cock grazes a particularly sensitive spot within you. Joel notices and seizes your waist, one hand holding you in place and the other falling to rub your clit while he pistons into you from behind.
“Shit,” you cry, eyes pinching shut as the intense medley of pleasure and pain begins to overwhelm you. Your orgasm claws its way up your chest.
“Yeah, you like that, huh?” he’s panting. “Can you feel you squeezin’ me, sweetheart. Go on, give it t’me, show me how wet that pretty pussy gets when you come.”
“Oh, fuck, oh—oh god, Joel.”
Your lungs feel empty, chest on fire as you rake in rapid breaths. Your entire body is constricting, muscles in your stomach drawn tight as you press firmer against the sink, thighs shaking with every impact of his hips against the plush of your ass. The pressure makes your head spin. And then something in the base of your spine snaps, and you’re falling apart in his grasp. Joel curses behind you, but the sound is faint, almost inaudible over the ringing in your ears. Your vision goes white, body shifting forward as he fucks you through the high.
And even as you begin to come down, muscles going lax and body slumping against the sink, Joel is relentless. He uses you; gripping your hips to keep them tilted at the perfect angle, and just fucking wrecks you, exactly like he said he wanted to. A stream of profanities fill the air as his movements become disjointed, and you know he’s close. Can feel the way his cock twitches inside you, desperate for release. You tilt your face to the side and stare at him over your shoulder. Those dark eyes meet yours and his face crumbles, hand reaching to grip your shoulder and hold you down as he nears the precipice. You rut your ass back against him and he almost shouts.
“Fuck,” he growls. “That’s it, that’s it..”
And then he’s coming, cock jerking inside you in sporadic movements, and you’re wishing he hadn’t worn a condom so you could feel the heat of him spread inside your cunt. It’s intense, the yearning you feel to have him dripping out of you once he’s gone. But you settle for watching his face through bleary eyes, admiring the way his lips part and chin tilts towards the ceiling, eyes pinching closed as his body convulses against you.
For an all too brief moment, Joel doesn’t move. He slumps against your back, forehead resting in the gap between your shoulder blades, and just breathes. Haggard, drawn out exhales that send whisps of your hair flying forward into your face but you don’t care, too blissed out and relaxed underneath his weight to say anything. And then he’s straightening, and you gasp in unison as he grips your waist and slips out of you. There’s a determined ache between your thighs, pussy clenching around his absence, missing the weight of him already.
You sag onto the cold surface. Your mind is a blur, senses dulled from the intensity of your orgasm. The music in the bar has increased, and you imagine that your roommates must be wondering where you are, but can’t bring yourself to care all that much. You can hear him throw the condom into the trash, then there’s a low rustling as he drags his boxers and jeans back up his legs. Body trembling, you close your eyes and wait. Wait to hear the door open and close as he steps out, and leaves you in the bathroom alone, as you know he inevitably will.
But instead, you feel those hands, almost familiar now, grazing your back. They drag your panties back up and smooth your rumpled skirt down over your ass.
“Hey,” a soothing voice murmurs. “You good?”
You peer at him over your shoulder, uncontained surprise no doubt evident in your face. Joel’s expression is soft; cautious. He grips your shoulder and pulls you up, straightening your body. Drags a thumb over the corner of your mouth, wiping away the lipstick smudged there. His touches are so gentle, so tender, in comparison to a few moments ago. It almost gives you whiplash, and yet you find yourself melting under his gaze, because fuck, he’s handsome.
“I’m good,” you breathe, and he bares his teeth in a smile, cupping your jaw.
“Sweet girl,” Joel says. His head shakes once, slowly, eyes darting across your features, as if trying to memorise them. “I’m gonna remember this.”
You heart is in your throat all over again.
Your fingers fumble to adjust your top, smoothing it out as you smile, humming, “Yeah… yeah, I think I will too.”
A heady silence swells between you. His thumb brushes along your lower lip again, eyes watching the way your swollen mouth yields to his touch. The tip of your tongue slides out and glides over the tip of his digit, just for a second.
“Probably got your friends all worried,” Joel says then, hand dropping to his side. “Must be wonderin’ where you got to.”
You swallow down the disappointment you feel. It burns its way down your throat and into your stomach, not unlike the whiskey had. I don’t care, you want to say. Take me home with you. But you nod and agree. Glance in the mirror and rake numb fingers through bird’s nest hair, trying to tame your wild appearance. You swear you feel his hand graze the hem of your skirt one last time, playing with the soft material while he stares at you in the mirror.
The bubble pops as he unlocks the door, outside sounds rushing in through the gap, infiltrating the space that once smelt like sex and lust and now just feels like any other room. Joel doesn’t kiss you again. Doesn’t touch you. He steps into the hall, and you follow him out. And when he trails toward one side of the bar, with a final lingering glance at you over his shoulder, you begrudgingly head in the opposite direction to the booth, where your almost strangers await you with curious eyes and pinched brows.
Tuesday.
You feel hungover on the day of your first lecture.
A dull ache blossoms behind your left eye, a persistent reminder of how little sleep you had the night before. Your fingers wrap tightly around a tall styrofoam cup, and you take slow mouthfuls of the black coffee inside, attempting to savour the liquid gold, and letting the caffeine act as a saving grace for as long as possible.
You were normally so much better than this, too. Years had passed since your undergrad, and in the past you’d prided yourself on being punctual and prepared. But apparently one of the professors for this semester had it out for you, because when the required weekly prep work for your 9 o’clock Tuesday morning lecture was released the day prior, you were stunned to find that it included an entire fucking book.
After spending a dutiful two hours going over the weekly notes and required journal articles, you’d found yourself glaring at three sentences, written casually at the bottom of the professor’s notes.
Also, read Hesiod’s ‘Theogony’. It will do you well to have these ideas and themes fresh as you undertake the first weeks of this class. See you tomorrow.
Cue you staying up until two am reading fucking Theogony, and walking to your first lecture with a near-permanent yawn sprawled across your face.
As you approach history commons, a guy wearing a bottle green shirt that reads UNIVERSITY OF NEW ENGLAND in garish gold lettering shakes a pamphlet in your direction. It has a picture of a girl in a tiny athletic uniform on the front, preparing to spike a volleyball. You avoid eye contact and sidestep him quickly, continuing into the building.
The theatre room is easy enough to find.
Thirty odd chairs line the space on an incline, all facing toward a desk at the front of the room. A projector hangs from the ceiling, displaying the beginning of a slide show on a white wall. The slide is a muted beige colour, with stark black lettering that spells out: The Language and Literature of the Odyssey and the Aeneid.
Your professor stands with his back to the room, shuffling through a myriad of notebooks and loose-leaf pages splayed across the desk. Standard.
You traipse your way up the stairs, buoyed along by the steady stream of other students shuffling into the room, and take a seat a few rows from the front. Not too far back that you seem disinterested, and not so close that your professor will notice you falling asleep on the first day.
You open your notes on your laptop and then slump back into your chair, slurping down the final morsels of coffee in your cup before discarding it to the floor by your feet. And then the room quietens as a final group of students file in, heavy door swinging closed behind them, and you allow your eyes to rest upon the man at the foot of the space.
He’s tall. It’s impossible not to notice that first. Tall and broad. A thin white dress shirt stretches across the arch of his back, fighting to pull free from where it’s tucked neatly into the waist of his brown pants. From where you’re seated, you can see a dark head of hair shaking side to side every few moments, the man muttering inaudibly as he peers down at his notes.
You glance down at your laptop again. Watch your cursor blink against the white screen. And then you hear it.
“Alright folks,” an all too familiar voice drawls. “Let’s get down to it.”
You stiffen in your chair. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, palms going damp as a memory flits through your brain. One of your own voice.
An accent like that is hard to ignore.
You can’t make out what he’s saying anymore, every word overpowered by the sudden roar of your own heartbeat in your ears.
Slowly—so fucking slowly—you peel your eyes away from your laptop and glance upward.
And there he is, in all his glory. Pearly white smile. Strong jaw. Dark eyes.
Joel… your professor.
Fuck.
thank you for reading!! x
#my writing#fic: a lover's pinch#professor!joel#joel miller x reader#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller#joel miller smut#ALP
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“you’re an idiot.”
“really, doc? you’re gonna insult me after i came all this way to see you?”
you pause what you’re doing to stare down at wriothesley with a wholly unimpressed look. “you were wheeled in on a stretcher.”
(he’d even come in shirtless, one hand resting behind his head all laid out like a fontanian model in a clothing campaign.)
he dismisses the fact with a wave of his good hand, tsking. “only because sigewinne threatened to tranq me if i didn’t get on!”
you know for a fact that the head nurse is still stationed outside the infirmary in case his grace tries to leave without staying for overnight observation.
“she should have done it anyway,” you hum, taking his wrist and using it to carefully position his arm at his side. you nod at the nurse across from you holding the band to keep him steady. “deep breath now, your grace.”
wriothesley draws a breath and releases it quickly, grinning up at you. “so, what are you— fuck!”
“get him a sling,” you instruct, stifling a laugh as you let go of his arm and step back. “i’ll get him an ice pack.”
the two of you move around the infirmary, quickly gathering supplies as the duke lets loose a string of expletives that would make sigewinne faint.
it’s quite entertaining to see the duke pout, holding a heart-patterned ice pack to his shoulder. “i think i deserve a kiss for that.”
“a kiss is going to help with shoulder pain?”
“duh.”
this time, you don’t stifle your laughter as he closes his eyes and puckers his lips.
you pull a sticker from your pocket, pressing it to his waiting lips. “you were a very brave boy.”
his pucker turns into a pout as he uses his good hand to take the sticker off, sticking it to his discarded gauntlets. he looks more like a puppy than a wolf in this state.
with the worst of it out of the way, you begin tending to any scrapes or bruises.
it should be simple, but wriothesley doesn’t make it easy. he flexes playfully whenever your fingertips brush his biceps. insists on holding your hand when the antiseptic touches his wounds.
“okay, you’re all done,” you tell him, peeling off your gloves and tossing them into the bin. “but you will have to stay overnight so we can monitor you for any concussion symptoms.”
his brows raise as he clicks his tongue, smirking. “oh? are you asking me on a date?”
“no,” you say, tucking your clipboard under your arm. “i’m doing my due diligence as your physician.”
“but it’ll just be me and you and this very romantic lighting…”
“it’s dim light because someone keeps forgetting to put in the order for new ones.”
“they’re dim? hm, i didn’t notice. how could i when your smile lights up the room?”
you roll your eyes when he winks, but can’t help the heat you feel spreading across your face. “if you keep this up, i’ll have sigewinne and her tranquilizer gun stay overnight with you instead.”
“if i stop and you stay, will you at least have tea with me?” he asks, a hopeful glimmer in his eye.
“fine, i’ll stay. but only if i get to pick the tea,” you tell him, pulling a chair to the side of his bed and shedding your lab coat to get comfortable. “you’re especially insufferable when you’re injured, aren’t you?”
he reaches out and pulls the chair closer, so you’re sitting between his knees. “and yet, you’re finally succumbing to the temptation of my rock hard abs and winning personality.”
“no,” you deny, but you’d be lying if you said being this close to his spectacularly toned torso wasn’t doing…things to you. “it’s because you have liyue imported tea.”
“yeah,” he says, flashing you a charming, sinful smile that makes the fine hairs on the back of your neck raise, threatening to shatter your resolve. “if you say so.”
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Hiiiii, Congratulations on your 5K !!! Idk if ur reqs r still open, but I'll try (pls feel free to delete this if it's closed alrdy)
I was supposed to ask for a Cap. Price but since u've said that there are low reqs for Soap, I'm (humbly and kindly) asking for a Soap oneshot. U can do whatever u want (I just want fluff pls, I'm so inlove with him, he's such a cutie)
—Alive and Breathing
⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ
╰┈➤ ❝ [You're sick. Very sick. John takes drastic action.] ❞
Your head pounds violently, groaning softly under your breath as the room pulses with heat and fever. Sweat stains your forehead—dripping off the side of your nose as the bed is heavy with it. The window was shut tight, the sheets layered high on you in a heap akin to a garbage pile with shaking feet twitching from out the end. Your muscles jerk, lungs heaving for air that gets harder to come by.
No matter how hot you tried to become, nothing was making you any more comfortable. You felt like you were freezing; standing out on an ice sheet and plunging into arctic waters. Everything was a sheen of blurry delirium, and you hoped that John would get home soon so you could have him help out around the house.
You’d taken some cold medicine after you called him, but nothing was working.
Not moving beyond the ragged coughs that make you gag on your saliva, you stay there even when the front door opens—a call of your name on the air a dull buzz in your drums. Like a fly.
And then, suddenly, there’s a serious face in front of yours, and a hand is shoving back your blankets until you’re partially visible.
“Up you get, now,” John grunts, eyes narrowed and his scar pulling tight at the sight of your state. Your mouth twists into a tight frown, panting at the chill of the air; you shiver violently. “I’m takin’ you in, aye?”
“M’cold, John,” you mutter through a hoarse exhilation. Shapes shift and shadows move. A heavy hand is pressed to your forehead, flinching momentarily at the heat that makes John hiss lowly. He looks your body up and down, taking in the scent of sweat and sickness.
This was worse than the light fever you’d described over the phone.
“Holy hell…” He breathes, glancing at the rapid pulse point in your neck. “Cold? You’re fuckin’ burnin’ up down there, Dearie. Did you take anything while I was away? Christ.”
A mind is made up quickly, concern striking John in the heart.
He digs you out of the last remaining covers, gripping your slick body as your eyes flutter—you don’t answer him, muttering under your breath.
“Fuck,” John growls. Once he knows you’re not going to slip out of his arms, he grips you tighter and rushes into the bathroom, nerves in his gut not leaving as your limp arm sways. “Hey!” He shouts at you, jostling your shoulder blades.
You whine, your head stuck at his pec. Everything pulses.
Glaring, John’s blue eyes are laced with worry as he sets you down into the tub—scarred hand snapping to turn on the water on the coldest setting.
Hands grapple your cheeks.
“Hey, now,” the man utters, accent thick and deep as emotions take over. “Hey, focus on me. C’mon.” Water spreads over your legs—soaking into your clothes as your shivering continues even now. Your lashes flutter, teeth chattering. “C’mon, Sweetheart, right here.”
The water sloshes over the lip of the tub by the time John turns it off, the liquid cold enough to make the man shiver himself, but he doesn’t even notice—eyes trapped on your body.
After a few long, tense, minutes, your rapid heartbeat slows to the visible eye. Your lungs ease back to a nearly-normal rise and fall; small hitches still in the muscle.
“That’s a girl,” John runs his thumbs up and down your flesh. “That’s right.”
You huff, face still full of drying sweat until the man ahead of you takes a palm full of water and drenches your head with it. Sputtering, you weakly push at his other wrist near your cheek, gasping down air.
“W-what the hell,” you stutter, water dripping off your nose and over your eyes.
“I’m getting you medicine,” John grumbles. “The correct kind. Cold bath won’t help in the long run, but I was out of options.”
You blink at him, still sluggish.
“I’ll be fine, John.” A firm brow raises in challenge and you sigh shaking your head.
“It’s that or I bring you to hospital. Your choice.”
Silence falls, only broken by the shift of the water and your small sickly sniffles. Blue eyes move and soften before John brings a hand up to his face and rubs it. He holds the limb there for a moment, taking a shallow breath.
A kiss is pressed to your still steamy forehead, the lips staying there as you sag forward into John as his arms circle you, bringing you to him.
“Scared me,” he utters lowly.
You hum, tired.
“I had the strangest dream while you were gone,” your mouth whispers. John grunts into your skin. “You were fighting a bear.”
“A bear?” He smirks, eyebrow quirking and pulling his scar tight. “Bit big for me to do alone, Dearie…I win?”
“Of course,” you try a hoarse chuckle, arms limp in the water.
“Oh, aye, an accurate dream.” He chuckles with you. “How’d I do it, then? Was I barehanded? Knife?”
“...I’m just stroking your ego, John.”
“Can’t stroke something you can’t reach, can you?”
#tw sickness#cod#cod x reader#cod x you#call of duty#x female reader#call of duty x you#captain mactavish x reader#captain mactavish#captain john mactavish#john mactavish x you#john soap mactavish#john mactavish x reader#soap call of duty#soap mactavish#soap cod#soap x reader#x fem!reader#john mactavish
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tag drop 1 !
▬ ◊ * ⦅ OOC. ⦆ babe wake up it’s time for bible study｡
▬ ◊ * ⦅ OOC. ⦆ dash commentary ｡
▬ ◊ * ⦅ OOC. ⦆ answered ｡
▬ ◊ * ⦅ SAVED. ⦆ answered ｡
▬ ◊ * ⦅ IC. ⦆ starter ｡
▬ ◊ * ⦅ IC. ⦆ open ｡
▬ ◊ * ⦅ IC. ⦆ thread ｡
▬ ◊ * ⦅ IC. ⦆ answered ｡
▬ ◊ * ⦅ IC. ⦆ dash commentary ｡
▬ ◊ * ⦅ STUDY. ⦆ i toss my carved rock to the abyss ｡
▬ ◊ * ⦅ HEADCANONS. ⦆ hope drowned in shadows emerges fiercely splendid ｡
▬ ◊ * ⦅ MUSINGS. ⦆ sorrow surrenders its crown to a throne called grace ｡
▬ ◊ * ⦅ MANNERISMS. ⦆ who laid the fashioning of man ｡
▬ ◊ * ⦅ SKILLS. ⦆ perhaps an angel sang you to sleep ｡
▬ ◊ * ⦅ AES. ⦆ under a moon-kissed fig tree in gethsemane ｡
▬ ◊ * ⦅ ART. ⦆ spreads his light wings and in a moment flies ｡
▬ ◊ * ⦅ MUSIC. ⦆ holy breath that makes the world rejoice ｡
#▬ ◊ * ⦅ OOC. ⦆ babe wake up it’s time for bible study｡#▬ ◊ * ⦅ OOC. ⦆ dash commentary ｡#▬ ◊ * ⦅ OOC. ⦆ answered ｡#▬ ◊ * ⦅ SAVED. ⦆ answered ｡#▬ ◊ * ⦅ IC. ⦆ starter ｡#▬ ◊ * ⦅ IC. ⦆ open ｡#▬ ◊ * ⦅ IC. ⦆ thread ｡#▬ ◊ * ⦅ IC. ⦆ answered ｡#▬ ◊ * ⦅ IC. ⦆ dash commentary ｡#▬ ◊ * ⦅ STUDY. ⦆ i toss my carved rock to the abyss ｡#▬ ◊ * ⦅ HEADCANONS. ⦆ hope drowned in shadows emerges fiercely splendid ｡#▬ ◊ * ⦅ MUSINGS. ⦆ sorrow surrenders its crown to a throne called grace ｡#▬ ◊ * ⦅ MANNERISMS. ⦆ who laid the fashioning of man ｡#▬ ◊ * ⦅ SKILLS. ⦆ perhaps an angel sang you to sleep ｡#▬ ◊ * ⦅ AES. ⦆ under a moon-kissed fig tree in gethsemane ｡#▬ ◊ * ⦅ ART. ⦆ spreads his light wings and in a moment flies ｡#▬ ◊ * ⦅ MUSIC. ⦆ holy breath that makes the world rejoice ｡
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{ 020 }
- when you catch them falling asleep first -
featuring: gojo satoru, nanami kento, fushiguro megumi, okkotsu yuta
warnings: crack for gojo's, but mainly fluff for the rest :3
[ gojo satoru 🕶️ ]
don't let gojo's pretty face and seemingly perfect life fool you: this man has a sole imperfection that takes the form of his MONSTROUS snores. and you swore that these snores are loud enough to cause tremors to be felt across your shared apartment!
you came home from work a little later than usual, murmuring your greeting all while taking off your shoes in the process. as you brushed back your hair while running a hand through them, you were left frozen on your spot when you heard an almost... unnatural sound coming from within the depths of your apartment.
"h-hello? satoru? are you there?"
fear began to quickly seize at your heart, with you straining your ears as you tried to decipher the strange and almost guttural sounds. it was almost like... someone sawing a log while growling at the same time, coupled along with some other wet sounds that made you tremble in response.
grabbing a hold of one of your umbrellas settled near your shoe rack, you slowly inch closer to the source of the sound, hoping that the umbrella would be sufficient enough to use as a weapon.
you could feel the ice cold sensation of your blood rushing through your veins, filling you with anxiety and fear at what was to come. the closer to got to your bedroom, the louder those sounds became.
with your eyes clenched shut, you slam open the door while crying out "YOU STUPID CURSE...!"
only to feel your words die out the moment you turned on the lights to see your boyfriend splayed out in bed, his hair a complete mess against the plush pillows while a string of drool was seen on the corner of his lips.
yet perhaps what was most shocking was how those noises were coming from him!
now, you've been subjected to satoru's obnoxious snores before, but they had never quite sounded this... horrendous. which meant that the sorcerer was probably caught in a deep slumber right now.
allowing the relief to course through you, you toss aside your umbrella and step closer to the bed. your arms were crossed over your chest as you look down at him, reaching out a hand to pinch at his nose.
"nngh nggh ngh?!" you had to fight back a giggle upon seeing your boyfriend's eyes clenched shut in response. his arms were flailing around randomly until they suddenly managed to find you, pulling you down into bed with him as a cheshire cat grin slowly spreads across his features.
"heheh... welcome home, babe...!" his voice was still hoarse, clearly only half awake when he manages to wrap his arms tightly around your form. his rich chuckles were felt against your ear, making you giggle as you cuddled yourself even closer to him.
"you're such a dork, 'toru! do you know how much your snores absolutely terrified me when i came home from work? i genuinely thought a curse had followed you back to our apartment!"
your boyfriend rolls his eyes at you, giving you a smirk before pinching your own nose in response as your voice took on a more nasally quality.
"ngh, shtop it! i wash genunelly tewwified!"
"well that's what you get for makin' fun of me! my snores aren't that bad, okay?!"
after spending some time teasing each other, your beloved convinces you to fall asleep with him (after taking off your clothes and changing you into something more comfortable.) with a content purr, you agree to fall asleep while in his embrace, snuggling up even closer to him, ready to close your eyes-
"scccchhhhhhzzzzzz hngggg..."
only for your eyes to go wide when satoru manages to fall asleep first, practically snoring within your ear as you simply lay in bed while silently groaning to yourself.
tonight was going to be a long night for you.
[ nanami kento 🗞️ ]
the hardworking man who can never seem to catch a break. nanami will often fall asleep when you least expect it, but truly, you never had the heart to disturb him.
you were in the midst of cutting up the ingredients for tonight's dinner, and when you told your beloved kento to lay back and relax, he finally relented without any protest.
he had just gotten back from a rather long and arduous business trip the day before, and you had hoped that he would take this chance and sleep in, simply enjoying his day off. you wanted nothing more than to cook him his favorite meals consisting of chicken alfredo with a heavy helping of garlic bread.
you purposely got up early, ready to buy fresh ingredients for tonight's dinner when nanami ends up waking up with you. despite the dark circles seen beneath his eyes, he insisted on accompanying you (to make up for lost time).
even your attempts at convincing him to stay home fell on deaf ears, with your kento joining you on your errands, but not before allowing you to have breakfast with him at his favorite café where he surrounded himself with delicious coffee and all of the pastries he had been craving for.
with your day pretty much starting out like a much needed date, you finally came home around 6pm, where you were able to shoo kento away from the kitchen as you began working on making the chicken alfredo.
it was around 7:30 that you completed your dinner and called out kento's name. "ken, dinner's ready!"
you continue stirring at the pasta dish, already salivating at the scent of the white sauce along with the juicy cuts of chicken. you trail your eyes over to the large loaf of garlic bread, wishing to save heating that for last so that your kento could enjoy it freshly baked from the oven.
"kento?" you shut off the stove just then, placing a lid over the chicken alfredo as you went into the living room to check on him. you peek your head into the living room to see nanami settled in his usual spot on the couch with what looked like an open newspaper settled across his face.
making sure that your steps were quieter, you tiptoe even closer to him, gently removing the newspaper to reveal him sleeping against the couch. you could see the way his eyelids trembled while he slept, the sight of it all being enough to make you smile in response.
letting out your own yawn, you figured that once you got hungry, you could simply reheat the food and place the garlic bread in the oven then. feeling a bit tired yourself, you settle yourself next to kento, with your head on his shoulder while cuddling against him before joining him for a peaceful slumber.
[ fushiguro megumi 🐺 ]
the type to fall asleep in front of those who is truly trusted. like a wary dog wolf, megumi is the type to stay awake and wait until he's in the safety and comfort of his own bedroom to truly sleep. but lately... this seems to be changing when it comes to you.
you had invited megumi over to your place to have a movie night and a weeklong sleepover, not wishing to spend these long nights alone as your parents went on a much needed vacation together. they promised they would return in a week's time while giving you permission to invite a friend over to stay the night with you.
and of course, megumi ended up being your first choice.
you placed a lot of trust in him, despite being your best friend who just so happened to be a guy as well. had it been any other boy, your parents would have voiced their concern and suspicions-
but when it came to megumi, they could all visibly relax.
for starters, he truly wasn't like most boys who spent their whole lives salivating at the thought of spending the night at a girl's house. he was very deadpan and serious, not ever once treating you uncomfortably while maintaining a safe distance between you and him each time you were together.
(and so what if you happened to have the BIGGEST crush on him?)
if you were given a chance to be home alone like this, then there was no one you could possibly trust more than megumi. so when he finally arrives at your place right at 4pm, (his duffel bag in hand), you immediately went to hug him tightly.
"thank you so much, 'gumi! for agreeing to come over!"
"sure, don't mention it." his smile was a rare but tiny one, an expression he seems to save just for you while teasingly messing up your hair in response. his actions end up making you smile as you lead him to your living room, already setting up a blanket fort of sorts for you and megumi to enjoy for the duration of the week.
surrounded by bags of your favorite snacks and a box of half-eaten pizza, you held on tightly to your plushie as a scary movie was playing from your television screen. as the scary monster revealed itself from the shadowy depths of the forest, you let out a tiny squeak in response, momentarily looking away from the screen as your eyes met with megumi-
who was currently sleeping with a hand over his abdomen.
seeing such a sight made you forget all about the fear you once felt due to the movie, now filled with a fascination for the sleeping boy settled before you. making sure your movements were quiet, you shut off the t.v. and settle the remote off to the side.
holding your breath, you inch closer to megumi's sleeping form, and it brought you back to a certain memory you had from last year. it was the first time megumi had spent the night at your place, and it had happened because you wanted to study with megumi a bit for an upcoming exam.
what you didn't expect was for a storm to hit, making it impossible for megumi to return back home as you eagerly suggested that he spend the night at your place. he was hesitant and tried to convince you that he could walk back to the station without an umbrella, but it was ultimately the sight of your tears that makes him relent.
you wanted to give him your bed, but megumi absolutely refused to make you sacrifice your comfort for him. so, your friend ends up remaining on your floor with some of your plush blankets used as a makeshift mattress for him. that night, you had a hard time falling asleep since you were so aware of megumi's own movements as he tossed and turned throughout the night.
"megumi...?" you gave up trying to sleep, not liking the fact that your friend was having such a hard time falling asleep, too.
you swore you could hear him stiffen in the dead of night when you called out his name. "yeah?"
"are you okay? you can't sleep now, can you?" you ask him with a guilty sigh.
you remember hearing him let out a huff when he turns around to face you on the bed, "it has nothing to do with you, i'm just not used to sleeping in an unfamiliar environment. don't worry about me, just sleep like you normally do."
you rolled your eyes then, knowing that you couldn't sleep when your own crush friend was struggling to sleep. so, you joined him on the floor and kept him company throughout the night, talking about nothing and everything at the same time.
looking at him now, (seeing him in what had to be a deep sleep), you were mesmerized by how vulnerable he was. his spiked hair now remained mussed and flattened against the pillows, with his lips parted in tune to his own breathing.
reaching out a hand to brush back his hair, you sharply inhale when he opens up one eye to look at you.
"hm?" his gaze was still hazy with sleep, but you couldn't stop yourself from asking him, "you feel comfortable around me now?"
a tiny smirk paints his handsome features when he suddenly wraps his arms around your back. you let out a gasp, landing directly against megumi's chest as he brushes his lips against your hair.
"yeah, i do feel comfortable around you... something about you... makes me feel so soft... and warm."
megumi trails off just then, and judging from the way he tightens his arms around you before his breathing evens out, you had to smile and giggle a bit.
he had fallen asleep again.
not one to complain about being in megumi's arms, you let out a happy sigh before sliding your eyes shut, falling asleep within minutes as you dreamt of him...
[ okkotsu yuta 💍 ]
yuta was a notorious night owl, and most nights, you struggled to keep up with his late night binge consisting of movie marathon or shows that lasted several seasons. the only time you were able to convince yuta to sleep at a decent hour was when he was sick. and tonight was one of those nights...
your eyes were filled with concern for your boyfriend, feeling a bit panicked the moment he woke up with a fever.
his speech was slurred as he tried convincing you that he was just fine, but you did not believe him. forcing him to lay back in bed, it was now your turn to spoil him.
throughout the day, you made some soup for him while giving him his rounds of medicine with a tall glass of water to keep him hydrated. you took his temperature every couple of hours, and you were happy to see it steadily going down as the day progressed.
after caring for yuta, you spent the rest of the day tidying up your shared apartment, making sure that everything was back in its place so that once he felt better, then yuta wouldn't feel so stressed and have to worry about waking up to a messy apartment.
your last chore of the day consisted of you doing laundry, placing the newly washed clothes into the dryer before heading back to your shared bedroom with yuta.
the time read 9pm when you came back to your beloved boyfriend, letting out a sigh while stretching your body out. you already envisioned yuta scrolling through his phone after taking his medication-
so picture your surprise when you saw him still laying in bed, the damp handkerchief never leaving his forehead as his eyes were shut. his breathing was slightly labored, but not as bad as it had been this morning when the fever had first afflicted him. your heart seemed to melt at the mere sight of him, seeing his hand laying limply across your side of the bed, as if waiting for you.
"aw, my poor baby." you softly coo at him, shutting off the lights as you allowed complete darkness to settle across the room. walking to your side of the bed, you gently duck beneath the covers and slide closer to yuta, taking a hold of his hand with a bright smile on your face.
you listen as your boyfriend mumble a few words, finally adjusting his sleeping position as he turns to face you, the handkerchief now sliding completely off of his forehead in response to his movements. giggling softly, you take the damp handkerchief and remove it, placing the cloth on your nightstand instead while focusing your attention on him.
"sleep well, my love. i promise, i'll be by your side the whole time." you quietly promise him while squeezing at his hand in response.
and as you closed your own eyes, ready to join him in his land of dreams, you remain blissfully unaware of the smile that paints his features while he slept...
a.n. - i am so sorry, it feels like it's been forever since my last jjk update! but i hope this silly little update makes up for it 🥹 this is currently unedited, but i'll make any changes once this is posted!
all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.
#gojo satoru x reader#satoru gojo x reader#nanami kento x reader#kento nanami x reader#fushiguro megumi x reader#megumi fushiguro x reader#okkotsu yuta x reader#yuta okkotsu x reader#gojo x reader#nanami x reader#megumi x reader#yuta x reader#jjk x reader#gojo satoru x you#nanami kento x you#megumi fushiguro x you#yuta okkotsu x you#.stories
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PAC : What turns them on about you 18+
If you're underage babe go study 😭 I promise there are better things to do 🫶
Choose with your intuition, take what resonates and leave the rest you can choose multiple
Pile 1:
Hey loves hope you're doing well , so getting into this I feel your tongue does magick the way you just like biting your lips arouses them they like it when you lick lollipops or ice creams they start wondering about things in their mind . They love how curvy you are but not overly they like the soft curves that you have . I also see that you might have curly hair , they like it untangled and wild there's so much energy of appreciation for the natural you by them . They like the way you walk i believe they also like the food you make I think they might have Taurus energy , could have some kind of fantasy along with food. This pile could be couples where they just watch Netflix and chill and then next moment they're onto something I feel so much the energy of ✨ comfort ✨ in this pile it's so lovely . I feel they love you so much but when it comes to the deed they do it even better . The fantasies in your mind will come short they already want you so much.
Songs : Burning desire by lana del rey, wildside by normani , hills by the Weeknd.
Pile 2 :
Hey loves hope you're doing well . Your perfume good lord the way you smell 👌, the way the aroma spreads over after you come to the room after bathing, do you use coconut, vanilla products they really like it. They like to see your a** and the way it bounces , they'd like to sleep on it 💀 might also be a fan of thighs the like it when you wear less because oftentimes you're so covered up to see the structure of your authentic body turns them on . They also are very sensitive to your touch , if you're touchy ma'am it's working they get goosebumps when you're near ✨ . Also a big fan of getting to see you getting dressed and putting on makeup , do you have blond or just light coloured hair in comparison to your ethnicity they love it . They love your voice I think it could match to anime girls , you ignite the masculine energy in them so well . You let them take charge and take decisions and that really makes them turned on . They take charge of everything and you keep glowing and flowing in creativity . They love your poems btw .
Songs : Heaven by Julia Michaels, stargirl interlude by lana del rey.
Pile 3 :
Hey loves hope you're doing well Sapio fr , they like your intelligence and the way you challenge them , im getting office siren vibes oml , it's giving me dangerous women by Ariana Grande you're not someone easy and hard to get they like it they like the chase the way you make them wait gets them so turned on they just want to get it started lord . They also get turned on by your b**bs and they could have k**ks related to that . I feel like you might be in a long distance or just don't get to see each other often and when you guys meet the energy itself is so arousing and happy it gets them on and they like to pleasure you . They are excited by the wish to adore you . They also like how cute you are the softness also turns them on , they wanna spoil you and see how you can be once you are touched by them.✨
Songs : Dangerous women by Ariana Grande, I see red bag everybody loves an outlaw.
That's all hope you guys enjoyed the reading , feedbacks are appreciated
Have a great day/night ahead
#pac readings#pacreading#pac reading#pac tarot#pac#pick a photo#pick a deck#pick a picture#pick a card reading#tarot card reading#tarot readings#tarot reading#tarot community#intuitive tarot reading#intuitive reading
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Make Me Your Masterpiece
Summary: Bob credits you for helping him to find his new hobby. And when he asks if he can you paint you, you find you quite like the idea of being his muse.
Pairing: Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x Female Reader
Length: 4.5K
Warnings: fluff, smut, and basically an ode to Lewis Pullman’s hands (mdni)
(Author’s Note: smutty fics are the new friendship bracelet, spread the word! Happy Birthday, Ames! 🎉 @laracrofted)
You’ve always had a thing for Bob’s hands.
They were one of the first things you noticed about him that day at the coffee shop almost a year ago now.
You’d been reaching for your iced vanilla cinnamon latte when a big hand had wrapped around it just a half of a second before you could grab it. Which you wouldn’t have minded admiring them for a moment under any other circumstances, but after an endless string of meetings you’d been in a dire need of a caffeine fix- and not the weak stuff that people brewed in your office’s communal coffee pot.
“I think that’s-” you’d started.
“Oh, I’m sorry-” the coffee thief backpedaled.
The next thing you knew you were looking into the prettiest pair of ocean blue eyes.
The two of you were startled out of the moment when the barista called out the next order as they’d set it on the counter.
By some kismet or fate, they had been a matching set. But instead of embroidered towels, it was his and hers coffee cups with your names written on them in a hasty scrawl.
Realization dawned over his features as he gave you a sheepish smile, “Think this one might belong to you, Miss.” He spun the coffee until he found the spot with your name. That little smile becoming a full grin as he’d said it aloud before passing the cup to you.
The hands had been good, the eyes had been great, but Bob’s smile directed at you had left you weak in the knees.
You’d been a goner right then and there.
And while you’d ended up almost ten minutes late to your next meeting, you’d also gone back to the office with his phone number written on a cardboard coffee sleeve that was tucked away safely in your purse and a date lined up later that week.
As it turned out fate had a name and it was Robert Floyd.
Barely twenty minutes into your first official date with Bob, his ears had turned a delightful shade of pink as his anxious fingers straightened the silverware on the white linen tablecloth of the Italian spot he’d taken you to. He’d fessed up and apologized as he came clean, telling you that he’d purposefully ordered the same coffee as you in hopes of getting to start up a conversation with the pretty girl who’d been standing in front of him in line.
“I didn’t want to interrupt you, since you looked busy. But I didn’t want to miss my chance,” he’d confessed over candlelight.
He’d told you how he’d only been at the coffee shop because he’d recently returned from a deployment and was fighting the jetlag that came with adjusting to being back on Pacific Standard Time, and that he normally preferred tea but he needed something with a bit more to it to get him through the day.
Instead of getting up and taking the bottle of wine to-go as a consolation prize, like you would have if it had been anyone else, his genuine earnestness had charmed you instantly. And you’d settled on having a second date with him before the first one had even really started.
You only let him sweat it for about thirty seconds before you took pity on him. With a light fingertip, you traced along one of the veins on the back of his hand and simply asked, “So other than being a meet cute mastermind, what is it that you do for a living, Bob?”
It was the best first date you’d ever had.
For your second date with him, you’d bought tickets to a ‘Paint and Sip’ event at a buzzy new bistro in town your friend had told you about.
You weren’t an artist by any means, but during that dinner date his antsy fingers and expressive hands had clued you into how nervous he’d been. You’d found your eyes drifting to them on more than one occasion. Partly because they were so enticingly disproportionate to the rest of him, but also because you couldn’t look him directly in the eye for too long without feeling your face heating up.
You thought it would be a good way for the both of you to work past the getting-to-know-you jitters, something that would keep your hands and eyes occupied enough to relax a bit more and have fun together.
Although instead of the seascape class you’d thought you’d signed up for, you’d willingly paid $86+ tax to watch Bob’s lithe, long fingers delicately grip a paintbrush in a way you thought was going to make you lose your mind.
You’d spent the whole first hour trying and failing to mix the perfect shade of blue before giving up when you’d realized that the man next to you, in addition to having really great hands, was also very good at painting.
Bob had seemed surprised by that too because he’d kept flushing that wonderful shade of pink that had quickly become your new favorite color every time you complimented his piece.
He had steady, capable hands. But you were quickly learning that everything about Bob Floyd seemed that way. There was a quiet confidence about him. He didn’t shy away from the way he’d openly observed you, like you were a riddle he was enjoying learning to decode.
You’d never known a man to be so attentive until him.
Bob’s tongue was peeking out as he’d worked on adding some wispy clouds to the top of his piece. You weren’t even sure what step you’d technically stopped at before you’d given up to watch the visual feast of him painting instead. Only halfheartedly adding random bits to your canvas along the way to make sure it wasn’t totally blank by the end of the session.
You’d been so zoned out watching him create that it was like a slow-motion sequence in a horror movie. You’d reached out for your wine glass, lifting it to your lips to take a sip, it had only taken you a split second to realize it wasn’t the full-bodied red you’d ordered that was coating your tongue, but the murky, gritty paint water instead.
Mortified, you’d looked over just in time to see Bob’s empathetic wince. You’d been hoping to fly under the radar, but it had turned out that you’d had more than one set of eyes on you.
“And we officially have our first casualty of the evening, folks,” the instructor cheerily announced to the group, “The rest of you can breathe easy now!”
You wanted to be able to laugh at your own expense, but you’d groaned as you buried your face in your hands.
It was not the way you saw the night going. You wanted to be dazzling, you wanted that pivotal third date with him. But now you were the girl who drank paint water whose canvas looked like it had all the same efforts as an enthusiastic fourth grader.
Bob’s hands had gently wrapped around your wrists before he’d pulled them from your face. And then he’d leaned in close, taking your chin in his hand and kissed you squarely on the lips, his tongue dipping in and sliding against yours to taste the acrylic pigment from your surprised mouth.
“Huh,” he’d said, contemplatively. He’d pulled away only far enough to look into your eyes and give you a soft smile. “Celadon blue doesn’t taste like a Cabernet, go figure.”
He brushed a light kiss against your cheek as he’d passed you your wine glass so that you could rinse the paint water taste out of your mouth.
You couldn’t help but to still be a little embarrassed, but then you’d caught the way he’d shoot an unimpressed look at the instructor every time they passed by for the rest of the evening. You didn’t need a knight in shining armor when you had a Bob Floyd with a paintbrush and a cutting side eye.
You took him home with you that night and learned for yourself just how capable those hands of his were.
It was only later that you realized the exact shade of blue that you’d been trying so hard to capture earlier that night was the same color as the eyes that gazed down at you as Bob fucked you for the very first time.
There was no way you could have known that the ‘Paint and Sip’ date would have inspired him to pick up painting as a hobby.
First, he’d started taking classes at the Rec Center. His once a week classes later turned into him checking out books from the library. And then he’d turned his spare bedroom into a studio, as it has the best afternoon light in the Spanish style house he rents near the Naval base. He’d even bought a comfy chair for you to curl up in as he painted, a little nook of your own in his favorite space in his home. And steadily, the walls of both your apartment and his place fill up with all of his art.
You’d even had your favorite one professionally framed. The pretty landscape done in shades of soft greens that he gave to you for your birthday hangs in a place of honor above your bed. You like having that piece of Bob as one of the last things you see before you fall asleep and one of the first things you see in the morning on the rare occasion the two of you aren’t sharing a bed. You liked to imagine the hours he spent on it with the sunlight streaming through the open window as he lovingly and painstakingly created something just for you with his own two hands.
Although you did have to beg him to sign it for you. He claimed that since he does it for fun that there’s really no reason too, but you were adamant about it and he’d eventually caved and scrawled his name in the lower right-hand corner.
Now it’s become your personal mission to ensure that every Bob Floyd original has his signature on it when he gives his paintings out as gifts.
Everyone assumes that his art would be all straight lines and precise angles, but it’s your favorite moment when people get to see his abstract landscapes. He’d told you he spends so much time in the sky that he likes to paint what’s on the ground, the things he doesn’t get to see when he’s 50,000 feet in the air.
You could tell Bob was a little nervous when he first asked to paint you.
After almost a year with him, you’d think he’d know by now that you’d do anything for him. Not to mention, you were more than a little in love with the idea of being his muse.
“Are you saying you want to paint me like one of your French girls?” you’d teased with a grin, unable to resist the opportunity. You always did have a thing for men with perfectly floppy hair.
He’d tipped your chin up so that you were looking into his blue eyes- a color you were positive couldn’t be replicated- and stated, “No, I want to paint you like my girl.”
Which is how you’ve ended up naked on the floor of his living room.
You’d been surprised when you came downstairs to see that the furniture had all been pushed to the side to make space for the king-sized top sheet he’d laid out on the floor. You figured it must have been from some mismatched set he had stashed in his linen closet because you’d never seen it before and you spent more than enough time in his bed getting familiar with his sheets.
Bob was shirtless and wearing only a pair of loose-fitting and paint stained jeans that were hanging low on his hips as he worked on getting all of his brushes and paints set up.
You were pretty sure that Michelangelo himself wouldn’t be able to do proper justice to Bob’s body. He wasn’t as built as some of his friends on the Dagger Squad were, but there was an undeniable sturdy steadfastness to him. Those defined shoulders and arms often were the stars of your afternoon daydreams, since you got to admire his handsome face anytime your phone lit up.
He came and met you at the bottom of the stairs, giving you a low whistle, “Well, aren’t you as pretty as a picture in my shirt.”
“Oh,” you’d said, feigning surprise and toying with the hem, “So it is.” And then you’d slowly lifted it up and off of you, revealing more of your body to his artist’s eye.
You never felt as good about yourself as you did when you were naked in front of Bob. The color of his morning skies eyes would always darken to a deep shade of Prussian blue as he took in the curves of you. With him you always felt appreciated, wanted, desired.
His greedy hands came to grip your hips pulling you to him until you were pressed against him.
“Is this how you wanted me?” you asked, running your fingers through his hair.
Bob slipped his hand behind your neck and tugged you in for a heated kiss. “I always want you.”
You never knew true distraction until you’d felt Bob’s lips against yours all those months ago. You’d happily lose minutes, hours, days to them. The thing about Bob is that he never does anything halfway. If he’s kissing you, he’s doing it thoroughly until you’re out of breath.
The sound of the air conditioner kicking on and the light draft that it coasted over you reminded you that there were other plans on the agenda. And that the sooner he starts, then the sooner he finishes, and the sooner you can feel his lips on other parts of you.
“Where do you want me?”
“In my bed,” he murmured against your lips.
His name started as a laugh but turned into a sigh as he dropped a line of kisses down your neck, “I meant, like on the couch or on one of the chairs from the kitchen.”
Bob pulled away and peered deep into your eyes, “Darlin’, I wanted to paint you.” He trailed a teasing finger down your soft stomach. “If that’s alright with you.”
You thought you were just going to be his subject, but as it turns out he wanted you to be his canvas too.
You’re trying not to shiver as he meticulously coats your overheated skin with cool paint. Goosebumps follow in the wake of every delicate stroke he makes along your body.
His hair was curled over his forehead in a way that had your fingers aching to touch him. There was a slight furrow between his eyebrows as he concentrated on the deliberate lines and curves he painted on you. The paint smudge on his cheek only made him all the more attractive to you.
Bob had tucked a pillow beneath your head before he’d started, a gesture that you appreciated now because time had lost all meaning to you. You had no idea how long you’ve been lying there. You were pretty sure every inch of you had to be covered by now.
He’d started along the plane of your stomach and steadily worked his way out from there. Up your arms. Along your clavicle. Over your breasts and tops of your thighs. You didn’t miss the way he’d smirked when you arched into that soft to the touch paintbrush as it glided over your peaked nipple. Or the way he’d hummed pleased when you’d try to subtly rub your thighs together to relieve the need that had been building as you laid there.
Bob loves taking his time with you. In bed, he loved teasing you until you had tears in your eyes and were begging for his cock. And it became clear very quickly that this would be no different.
There was an electric thrum that was pulsing through your body with every dip and swirl and brushstroke. The muscles of your stomach jump involuntarily as the fine hairs of his paintbrush drift over your hypersensitive skin making you whimper.
He tsks, “Gotta stay still for me, pretty girl. I’m almost done, promise.”
You release a shaky sigh and nod, not trusting your voice to betray just how needy you were for him. Although the self-satisfied smile on his face told you everything you needed to know.
You try to control your breathing as he works on finishing, but your shallow breaths sounded loud in his living room. You love getting to watch him work normally, but the intense way he is looking at you- his eyes your favorite shade of Prussian blue now- is too much for your hummingbird heart.
Just as your skin was collecting layers of paint from his brush, the space between your thighs was steadily collecting your wetness. You were so desperate for him to touch you, the need made you want to crawl out of your skin.
You hear the sound of a watery swish and the clink of a brush against glass and your breath catches in your throat in anticipation.
“God, look at you,” Bob breathes, reverently, “You’re so beautiful. This might be my best work ever.”
Instead of the paintbrush, you can feel the path of his flame blue gaze traveling over you as he takes in the art he’s made out of you.
You open your heavy eyes and see Bob wiping off his hands with a frayed towel.
“There she is,” he says, giving you a smile that makes your toes curl. You didn’t notice it sitting there with all his paints until he was reaching for it, his dad’s old film camera. He holds it loosely in front of him like a question, “Can I take a few just for me?”
The answer is easy, “Yes.”
You trusted Bob more than any other man you’d ever been with. He’s never once given you reason to doubt his words because his actions always spoke for themselves.
The guys you’d been with before had been boys, Bob Floyd was a man.
The tension between the two of you is thicker than the acrylic he’d been using earlier as he snaps photo after photo. You admire the way his muscles shift as he bends and angles himself to get the perfect images.
He stands over you, the lens pointed down at you, “Look at me.”
You can barely breathe. You feel yourself getting even wetter at the thought of seeing yourself through his eyes. No one has ever made you feel the way he does.
“Bob”, you whine.
The camera clicks.
“I know,” he hums, “You’ve been so good for me.” He sinks to his knees between your legs and hooks a hand behind your knee, pulling it up so it’s propped on the floor. And then he does the other so that you’re sprawled open for him, just the way he likes you to be, “Just one more, darlin’.”
The heat in his eyes has dried up all the words in your mouth.
He trails a finger down the soft skin of your inner thigh and you gasp.
The sound of his camera reverberates in your head.
“You’ve made such a pretty mess,” he drawls, as he gently sets the camera on the floor next to you. “It’s a good thing I put something down. You’re damn near dripping.”
“Bob, please.” You arch towards him like a flower in the sun.
He settles between your thighs and pushes them apart further so that his broad shoulders fit between them. The paint is still drying on your skin, but neither one of you cares about that now.
“You were so perfect for me. I appreciate you staying so still.” He drops a kiss to the inside of your thigh. “Don’t worry, I know just how to thank you.”
Your body jolts at the first touch of his tongue on your clit. You can feel his smile against you, he knows exactly what he does to you.
Bob has always eaten you out like it’s what he was put on this earth to do.
Normally, he’s teasing you with gentle licks and tracing nonsensical shapes on your clit with his tongue until you’re a squirming mess for him. He knows your body so well, always building you up to the point where you’re breaths away from tipping over the edge and then pulls himself back before building you right back up again.
But tonight, there’s nothing playful about the way his mouth is working against you. His hot mouth is sealed to your clit. Bob hums in satisfaction with every keen and whine that he pulls out of you. He laves at you until you’re writhing underneath him, your thighs already shaking.
“Wanna paint you just like this,” he murmurs, sucking at the spot where your leg and hip meet. “But I don’t think you’d stay still long enough for me to finish.”
Bob dips down and gives you another long broad stroke of his tongue. He pulls back only long enough to spit on your cunt before diving right back in, chasing after his own taste on you.
Your hands are in his hair. Clutching at his shoulders. It’s taken him no time at all getting you to the point where you’re trembling and taut.
All the air leaves your lungs when he buries two large fingers into you. Your hips cant into his mouth on their own and he moans. Bob wraps an arm around your hips and presses down on your lower stomach to hold you in place.
You feel the paint smear beneath his warm palm. You were dying to see it. You hoped there was a handprint- his handprint- that disrupted all the lines and swirls of color that he’d decorated you with. Something that was distinctly him.
You were wearing his art and now you’re wearing him. The evidence of this moment in time on your skin.
His fingers and tongue weren’t enough.
You needed more.
“You cock, Bob, I need your cock,” you pant, tugging at his hair.
He meanly sucks your clit into his mouth in a way that has you crying out and jerking against him. You love it, you love him.
“God, I love it when you beg for me,” he licks into you again, “Sweetest sound in the world.”
Bob drops a sweet kiss on your clit, it’s a stark difference to the filthy way he’d been using his mouth on you. He rises to sit back on his knees between your parted legs.
He looks so good kneeling above you the way that he is. His cheeks are flushed and his hair is a mess. That knot behind your bellybutton twists tighter because you did that to him.
He unzips his jeans and tugs them down low enough to pull his hard cock out.
It’s pretty enough to be featured in a gallery, you think to yourself, even in your desperate haze. It’s long, thick, perfect and yours.
Bob smirks when he notices you admiring him, pumping himself slowly a few times for your viewing pleasure.
The only time Bob Floyd was ever a show-off was when he was in bed.
He grabs your thighs and pulls them over top of his own, so that yours are draped over his obscenely, and then he thrusts easily into you.
You gasp at the sensation of being so full of him. It always takes you a minute to adjust to his cock, no matter how many times you’ve taken it now. His thumbs make little circles along your hipbones as your body relents and yields to the size of him.
“There you go,” he says, rocking into you, working you open, “Just needed this cock, didn’t you?”
You whimper your agreement. Your hips tilt into the pressure like you’re trying to get as much of him as you can. Wanting to show him how much you can take. You know you’ll never get enough of him.
He fucks into you at a reckless and unrelenting pace. You’re high off the feeling of seeing Bob like this, that you’re the one who gets to see him unreserved and uninhibited. He has your hips gripped so tightly, keeping you closer than close. And when you clench around him, you’re treated to a wrecked groan.
Your skin prickles with desire and the feeling of paint drying on you. His cock is hitting just the right spot inside of you and you know you won’t be able to hold off for much longer, not with the way he’s grinding against your aching clit.
Bob’s eyes glued to the spot where you two come together. You’re on full display for him. He watches the way you stretch and spread around him with every deep thrust with the same appreciative gaze that he admires his favorite artists.
It’s under his river blue gaze that your orgasm swiftly sweeps you away. And with your back arching and thighs quaking around his, you give yourself up to the endless current of it.
You know he’s close when his hips start to stutter.
Bob pulls out of you and wraps his large hand around his slick-shined cock and works himself with rough, purposeful strokes.
This time he paints you with himself, his come covering your stomach.
The only sound in the room is the two of you breathing hard, trying to catch your breath.
“Jesus Christ,” Bob huffs, raggedly, taking in his handiwork, “You’re my masterpiece.”
You’re covered in paint and come, but you’ve never felt more beautiful than you do right now as he looks down at you in awe.
“Did you remember to sign your work this time?” you ask, out of breath but teasingly.
“I think I left my mark, darlin’,” he says, with well-earned smugness in his voice. You can’t help but giggle. He flops down next to you, throwing his arm over his eyes, “Goddamn.”
You prop yourself up onto your elbows to look at yourself.
“Baby, I think you gave Jackson Pollock a run for his money.” You grin widely when he lets out an amused snort. “Wait, where’s your camera?”
He passes it to you, the fondness in his eyes makes your chest feel warm. You scooch in close to him and hold it up above your heads, the camera flashes when you kiss his flushed cheek.
That picture is the first one that gets put up in the new house, the one the two of you chose together when he asked you to marry him six months later. Followed by the soft green landscape that now hangs above your shared bed.
It’s your favorite picture of the two of you, happy and in love. You can just see a hint of the cloud he’d painted on your shoulder.
That night Bob had decorated your body with the place he loved best.
He gave you the sky and he made you his world.
Happy birthday, Ames! Your gift will be mailed eventually, it really was a lesson in chemistry, lol! Enjoy a Bob fic just for you in the meantime!
A big, bigggg thank you to the Bob Babes/Lew Crew girlies! @callsignspark and @attapullman I appreciate you two so much for being such ultimate hypegirls! And thank you to @theharddeck, you helped me out of my writers block and I've been so excited to write this since we talked about it back in January!
You can read my other stories here!
taglist:
@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @callsignspark @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @ofstoriesandstardust @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader
#bob floyd#robert bob floyd#bob floyd fic#bob floyd x reader#bob floyd x female reader#bob floyd x you#bob floyd imagine#bob floyd fanfiction#robert bob floyd x reader#robert bob floyd x you#robert bob floyd imagine#robert bob floyd x female reader#bob floyd smut#robert bob floyd smut#top gun fanfiction#top gun imagine#robert bob floyd fic#bob x you#bob x reader
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Delicious
Pairings: demon!Natasha x Reader
Word Count: 5.5k words
Prompt: Demon AU
Warnings: NSFW, corruption kink, fingering, oral (f! receiving), multiple orgasms, strap-on, swearing...
A/N: This is late and it's not very good. This would have been so much better but I have ADHD brain and I had to rush this a bit. Sorry, guys. But I hope you still like it! Thank you!
Natasha had never been in this shop before.
Drawn to a strange feeling coming from within, she wanders inside the little cafe and stares at its warm tones, letting her eyes wander the wall of books, the tables and booths, the counter where a beautiful waitress talks to a customer. She lays eyes on you and can feel the mischief twisting in her gut.
You are perfect.
The light that surrounds you is a beacon of…purity. Your tan apron wraps securely around your body, your hair is out of your face, your smile is brighter than the sun and snow outside. She can taste the innocence oozing off your skin like honey from a honey dipper.
You are radiant, and he can’t wait to hold you in her hands and see how dark she can make you.
A dark and charming grin spreads over her red lips as she walks up to the counter, waiting for you to give your warm goodbye to the last customer and offer a warm hello to the next. She steps forward and swears she could get drunk off your virtue.
You give her a bright smile, and she can see it shining in your eyes too. “Hi! What can I get ya?”
Natasha lets her green eyes wander the menu for only a moment, turning her gaze back to you as she speaks slowly, deeply, letting her rasp wash over you like a siren to a sailor. “I’ll have a mocha.”
You nod, picking up your notepad and a permanent marker to write her order as you take in the sight of her face. She’s beautiful. “And what size would you like that in?”
“Grande.”
You pick up the cup, nodding as you do. “Anything else?”
She looks you up and down, drinking you in some more before gauging what it does to you. You seem almost fidgety, flustered. She grins. “What do you recommend?”
“Well,” you chuckle lightly, “I am a sucker for our Christmas special—the gingersnaps. I shape them like little Christmas trees.” You illustrate your words as you pull your hands up to form a triangle, the closest you can get to the tree.
She raises her brows. “Oh, so you make them?”
You nod proudly, smiling widely as you set your hands on the counter. “I do!”
She hums. You’re adorable. “I’ll take it.”
“Alright-y! Will that be all for you?”
“It will,” she nods simply.
You grab her cup size and clutch the permanent marker. “And what’s the name on that order?”
“Natasha,” she purrs, watching you closely and letting her gaze openly drink you in to see how you’ll react. You’re so flustered already, practically melting at the sultry nature of her voice. “But I think Nat will do just fine.”
You start writing the name, “Nat” in pretty script. “Alright, Natasha. A grande mocha and gingersnaps coming right up!” You say her name like warm icing on cinnamon rolls, letting it drip over your skin like melted caramel. You look at her and smile fondly, shyly, your head tilted slightly down but your eyes glancing up at her nervously. “You have…a beautiful name, by the way.”
Natasha chuckles, shaking her head gently. You're hypnotized. “I can't tell if you're flirting or if you're just that nice.”
“O-Oh!” you say, your eyes widening slightly as she catches you by surprise. “Oh, I'm a really bad flirt.” You meet her eyes again and she sees you panic for a moment as you raise your hands. “W-Well, not to say you're not worth flirting with! I think you're very pretty—gorgeous, even. You're very—You're really–!”
She cuts you off with a hearty laugh, reaching a hand out to gently grab your own as she offers you an almost sly grin. “Relax, sweetness,” she bids. “I think you're absolutely delicious, too.”
“O-Oh,” you sigh, smiling as she eases your nerves. Then you realize, “Delicious?”
“Did I say delicious?” She shakes her head gently as if to say “silly me”. She pats your hand lightly before removing her soft fingers from you. She never looks away from your face. “I meant delightful.”
You nod before you speak. Natasha can't help but think how adorable you are, like the purest angel—but how they are in the movies, not the ones stuck up her ass all the time, calling her pest and rodent and vermin.
No. You would never say something so harsh. She can see it in you, the purest diamond. She wants to break you.
“Okay,” you speak softly—and you're so naïve, she thinks for a moment that you heard her thoughts and were offering yourself up to such exploitations.
She licks her bottom lip subtly. She can almost taste your honey. “What was my total?”
You seem to snap out of whatever thoughts run through your mind. “Well…” you clear your throat, “since you're so nice and I own this place… I'll give you the cookies on the house and bring your total down some.” You lean in, and she thinks you'll wink. “Our secret.”
She doesn't know if she thinks you're capable of holding secrets. But she's been around humankind so much, she knows there's always a secret lurking around the corner. You all just can't help yourselves…
“Nonsense,” she shakes her head. “I'd hate to do that to you.”
You smile gently. “Come on. Let me do this. You've been so nice.”
She scoffs gently, not offendedly. “Nice isn't a word people usually associate with me.”
You tilt your head, genuinely curious as to how someone so sweet could never be called “nice”. “What do they usually use?”
With a dark glint in her pretty green eyes, she smiles. “Sinful.”
“Sinful?” you mutter.
She shrugs a shoulder. “I've got a bit of a…mischievous streak.”
You smile sweetly. “And I like giving pretty girls free cookies.”
Natasha sighs, looking you up and down for the sole reason of flustering you again. “Well,” she says, “at least accept this big tip.”
“Tip?” you tilt your head.
“For a beautiful girl like you.”
She's done it. You clear your throat and nod. “O-Oh. Okay,” you say, watching her pull out her wallet. When she pulls out a hefty $50 bill, your eyes widen and you look like you'll have a heart attack. “Oh, this is too much! I can't accept this!”
She makes a pouty face, gazing at you with those pretty green eyes. She leans forward, and you feel yourself crumbling at the sight of her. “Oh, but you would break my heart if you didn't.” She slides the bill over and smiles, still presenting her puppy dog eyes as she lowers her voice. “You don't want to break my heart…do you?”
No. Never. How could you ever break the heart of someone so…her?
“I…” your teeth graze your bottom lip as you think to yourself before ultimately giving in. “Okay.” You slowly reach your hand out and hesitantly grab the bill, clearing your throat and feeling a little clammy for accepting the money as you put it in the pocket of your apron.
She smiles, but it's more like a smirk, a devilish curl of the lips that you don't quite label as dangerous, like you should.
“Good girl,” she purrs.
You don't know why that has such an effect on you. You feel yourself go limp but you stay standing as your eyes flutter and you feel the need to clear your throat again.
“While I'm in the charitable spirit,” Natasha says, satisfied with your obedience, “why don't you go out with me sometime? Got any Christmas plans?”
Your face is warm, the tips of your ears burn with the idea of going out with such a beautiful creature. As you think of your holiday plans, you shake your head. “Uhm, n-no.” Why can't you seem to speak today?
“No?” she says, her face drenched in surprise. “No dinner with family, an outing with friends?” She finds it hard to believe that a sweet girl like you has nothing to do for the biggest holiday season of the year.
But it's hard to have friends when you're all the way in New York and your family is all the way in California and all your friends are visiting their families or have their own friends to be with.
So, no… no plans for you.
“No,” you smile, almost sadly. “Nothing for me this year.”
Natasha almost thinks she's taking pity on you when she asks this, rather than forming her own plan to taint your white ledger.
“Well, I've got no plans. You've got no plans.” She smiles and reaches her hand out to brush your fingers. “Let's fix that.”
“O-Okay,” you stutter.
“Okay?”
“Yeah.”
She nods, pleased with you. “I'll meet you here, then. Seven o'clock, Christmas day. Dress to impress.”
You smile sweetly. “Always do.”
“I can see that,” she says, looking you up and down with an appreciative glance.
You smile widely, a grand smile that puts the sun to shame. “I'll have your order right out.” You pick up your pen and dot the notepad you have her order written on.
Natasha nods before turning and walking toward a tiny table by the window, the morning light still pouring in, even as the morning slowly dwindles into noon. She watches you as you work, her eyes glued to your body as she follows you everywhere.
You really are just so…pure. She was thinking it may have been a façade to make the customers feel welcome, but one look at you, one sniff of your perfume, one word from your sweet lips and she knew you were sweet as sugar. Pure.
She hasn't met someone this pure in a very long time, if ever.
And you would taste divine.
“Nat.”
Her name said by such honey-tainted lips pulls her from her thoughts. She rises from her seat and makes her way to you once more.
Your smile is already ready, and just so sweet. “I hope you enjoy. Thank you for coming and…” you smile, biting your lip briefly, “I'll see you soon.”
“Thank you…” Her gaze darts down to your nametag, reading the letters one-by-one to savor the taste of it. She says your name like she's making love to it. You shudder. “Beautiful name.”
“Thank you,” you speak, your voice so soft and gracious she could have mistaken it for a whimper.
Natasha grabs the cup and the box of cookies, her fingers intentionally brushing yours as she speaks. “Christmas day. Seven. Don't forget.”
You shake your head. “I won't.”
She smiles. “Goodbye, angel.”
You nod quickly, too excited to see her again. “Bye, Nat.”
She walks out of the little cafe, her treats in hand. She lets the door close behind her, lets the bell ring about her head. Once she's out of the coffee shop but still in your view, she takes a sip of her scorching hot coffee like it's nothing and sighs. Even the coffee is as pure as you, perhaps because it was made by such hands.
She turns her head to see you watching her through the window and just nods. She watches your fluster, nodding proudly back to her before trying to look busy.
She can't wait to devour you.
~
You don't know how you got here, with your back pressed to your bedroom wall, with Natasha's hands smoothing underneath your shirt to touch the bare skin of your waist, with your lips molding perfectly with her own like they were made to fit together.
You'd gotten to the cafe an hour early, pretending—even to yourself—to tidy the place since you were closed for the holiday. Natasha showed up five minutes late, but fashionably so. She was beautiful; a pretty blouse red as blood, dark slacks tight around her waist and loose the rest of the way down, a black coat draped down past her knees.
The air was knocked from your lungs. She was beautiful.
Her eyes examined you, and she was impressed. You wore a short, long-sleeved, cream-colored dress and skin-colored tights to fight the cold. An angel.
She’d taken your hand and kissed the back of it, telling you how beautiful you were—though you swear you heard her say “delicious” again.
Then she took you to dinner. It was a nice restaurant, somewhere cozy with really good food. She paid for your food and for dessert, and you told her she didn't have to, but she insisted.
Then she took you ice skating. She held your hand the whole time and paid for you, and you told her she didn't have to, but she insisted.
Then she took you on a late night walk through the park. She held your hand and kept you close and told you that the moon looked beautiful on your skin. You told her she didn't have to, but she insisted.
Then when she walked you home, telling you how beautiful you were at the doorstep and taking your hands and pulling you in for a gentle kiss, you smiled and kissed her back. Then she kept kissing you, and you kept kissing back.
And it turned into you opening your door and letting her inside, kissing her some more and offering her coffee, only to have her tell you that she had everything she needed right here.
Hands wandered, then lips wandered, then she pressed you into the wall, and now she's got you laid out on your bed, still fully dressed and so, so hot.
She leans over you, inhaling the scent of your perfume with a sigh as she keeps kissing you. You hold her, your arms wrapped securely around her neck to keep her close.
Her teeth graze your lip, struggling to refrain from biting so hard, she draws the sweet syrup of your blood. You lean into her touch, keening against her and longing to savor the flavor of her name on your lips as you whisper, “Natasha.”
She wraps her hand around your throat as her mouth trails down to your neck, to your collarbone, feeling your pulse beating rapidly under the skin. Her teeth sink into your flesh, and she chuckles deeply when your breath hitches.
She could just as easily crush your windpipe if she wanted to. She could snap her fingers, and you'd be reduced to nothing but a pile of ash and bone.
But where was the fun in that?
No, she would savor you. She would lick your skin and taste the sweet ambrosia you'd create all for her. She would carve her name into your flesh with the bite of her claws. She would sink her sharp teeth to the bone. She would make you scream until the only word you knew were the letters of her name.
Her hand dips low under your dress, gripping your thigh as she slowly moves it up, up, up, her fingers digging into your skin as she does. Your eyes flutter shut, resorting to just feeling her as she touches you any way she likes. She hums deep in her throat as she pulls back to look at you, riding your dress up and pulling your leggings down so she can see the pretty panties you wore for her.
“Mm,” she sighs. “You look delicious, darling.”
Your tiny chuckle comes out as a breathy moan. “Don’t you mean,” you whimper slightly as her sharp nails dig into your skin as they make their way down your leg, the stinging sensations exciting you more than she initially thought. Corrupting you will be easy. “Don’t you mean ‘delightful’?”
Her hand around your throat tightens just a slight, not enough to constrict any airflow, but just enough for you to feel the warmth of her palm against your skin. “No,” she rasps. “I mean delicious.”
She manages to get your tights off, humming appreciatively at your lacey panties before ripping those off your body instead. You gasp lightly but say nothing else, allowing her to do as she wishes as you sit back and enjoy it.
Your hips jerk when her thumb teases the skin of your mound, dipping between your thighs just enough to press it lightly to your clit. Your breath hitches, your chest rising and falling in quick succession as she presses her thumb so lightly, you wonder if she’s actually touching you. She teases you like this for a moment, feather-light touches that make you so desperate for her.
“Tasha,” you whimper. “Please, I need you.”
Her eyes glint at the way you plead for her. Already, you’ve begun to beg. You’re so responsive, so sensitive to her touch. One would think you were untouched, but no… She would be able to smell that off you, and she smells that this is not the first time someone has been between your legs.
How precious you are. Tainted but still so unspoiled.
The pad of her middle finger grazes your slit, teasing you further as your body keens for her touch. “Say it one more time for me, baby,” she whispers in your ear. “Say it. ‘Please, I need you.’ Lemme hear it.”
You whine gently, letting one hand travel to her hair to let your fingers card through the softness of her red locks. You let your bottom lip pass between your teeth before you gladly obey her. “Please,” you whisper, lifting your hips to meet her. “I need you.”
Proud of herself, and of you, she slips her finger inside of you, sheathing it in the warmth and wetness of your body. You hum, closing your eyes. “How is that, angel?” she smiles, watching your eyes dart behind your closed lids.
You nod, parting your lips as a breath passes through them. “Yes.”
She grins devilishly. “Good girl.” She rewards you with another finger in the tightness of your slickening pussy. You reward her with another little whimper. She pumps them slowly, in and out of you, pushing them deep to feel every little part of you before allowing herself to pull out and do it again.
She curls her fingers inside of you, a come hither motion making your lips round into a ‘o’ shape. You whisper her name again, gently begging her for more. More closeness, more pleasure, more her.
She pumps them slowly, massaging your spongy walls as you begin to move your hips to the rhythm. “More?” you whimper, still so polite as you beg her for a request. And how could she say no when you’re as sweet as you are?
“You want more of me, angel?” she smiles. “I’ll give you some more.”
She dips down to kiss your collarbone again before she pulls her fingers out of you and laughs at the way you whimper, a pathetic little sound at the loss of her touch. Before you can begin to protest, you hear her snap and feel the zipper at your back begin to zip down your body. But you have no time to question her, as her lips attack yours between the time it takes to pull the dress over your head and off your body.
You don’t seem shy when you are laid bare to her. You keep holding her and kissing her, forgetting your confusion and shock before in favor of tasting the spice of her lips. She pushes you back onto the bed, abruptly separating you, even as your hands stay attached to her arms just to feel her soft skin.
She leans down over your body and lets her kisses ghost over your flesh, a phantom of herself teasing you. You feel her warm breath at the juncture of your thighs and want nothing more than to feel her tongue next. And it seems your prayers are answered when the hot muscle of her tongue flattens against your wet pussy and licks the arousal she’s pulled from you.
She’s happy to listen to the way you whisper her name under your breath when her lips wrap around you, allowing her tongue to plunge between your folds and fill you with pleasure. You moan and grind your hips against her face. She has to hold you down, chuckling darkly as she continues to lap at your needy core.
She sucks around your clit and swirls around your folds, tasting the sweetness you bear with a deep hum. “You taste just as delicious as you smell,” she rasps, kissing you messily. “This body is so…divine.” You melt under her praise, your hands tangling in her hair as your chest heaves.
Her fingers join her tongue once more, stroking and spreading and slipping in and out of you with the sole goal of tasting more of your sweet, sweet honey. “Natasha,” you moan. “Oh, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart? That’s a new one. Out of all the words in the Urban dictionary that can be used to describe Natasha Romanoff, sweetheart is not among them. Still, it’s sweet, and she thinks you’re adorable for thinking that way.
Natasha devours you, feeding off your moans like they are the essence of her being. Her hands grip your flesh and her tongue delves inside of you. She replaces her tongue with her fingers once more, pumping them in and out of you, curling against that sweet spot hidden deep within you. Your back arches and your moans get sucked up into the walls of your bedroom, pitchy and full of breath and desperation. You need her like you need air.
You moan her name again and she knows you’re close by the way your pussy tightens around her fingers, the way your clit pulses between her lips, by the way your fingers begin to tug at the locks of red hair you have tangled between them. She works harder, so eager to taste your nectar.
You hurdle over the edge with a loud, gasping moan. She holds you securely atop the counter, fingering and licking at your pussy as you gush around her, easing you through your orgasm. You chant her name under your breath, riding out your high against her face as she keeps building you up and prolonging your release just so she can continue to suck on your offerings, like the sap from a maple tree.
The last sparks of pleasure shoot through your limbs, in your belly. Your hips jerk when her fingers curve inside of you just a slight. She pulls them out and pulls away and licks her lips like she’s gotten sugar smeared all over them. “Oh, my angel,” she rasps. “Like heaven on earth.”
And you think she’s done as you will yourself to sit up, offering a sweet smile as you pull her in to kiss again, fully intending on seeing if she tastes just as “delicious” as she keeps telling you that you are.
But she breaks her kiss and stands off the bed and to her feet. You sit back, watching her pull her blouse over her head as her eyes stay glued to your beautiful body. She slips her lacey, only-for-decoration bra from her body to leave herself in nothing but her slacks.
You gaze at her, taking in the perfect hour-glass of her body and gawking when she steps out of her slacks and presents you with the strap-on she’s been hiding all this time. She watches the way you stare at it, smirking to herself as she stalks back over to you, leaning on the bed with her knee. “You like?” she says.
You bring your gaze up to her face, swallowing thickly and feeling embarrassment warming in your face for staring. You just nod. She chuckles, cupping your chin with her hand and shaking her head. She thinks you’re adorable.
She slides the hand around to your neck, cupping you there and pulling you in for a kiss. You moan, leaning into her. “But what about you?” you whisper, pressing your hand to her side and stroking your fingers over the skin.
She shrugs, “Don’t worry.” You miss the small wave of her hand behind her back as she lets her magic wash over her, connecting her own pleasure to that of her strap as she’s done a million times before. But you don’t need to know that. You don’t need to know the extent of her inhumanity. It isn’t important to the pleasure she derives from getting to taint something as pure as you. “It’s double-sided,” she lies.
You don’t get to protest because her lips are already on yours again. She slides her fingers through your folds again, swallowing your moans as she lays you down on your back and spreads you wide open for her.
As you're distracted by her kiss, she thrusts inside of you with a deep moan. You break the kiss, laying your head back and letting out a whimper of your own as she fills you, stretches you open for her as your tight pussy adjusts. You whisper her name like a prayer, and she moans yours like a sin.
She gives you only a moment to adjust to her size before she's moving her hips, a slow and steady in and out as she gets herself used to the feel of you, and oh… You definitely do not disappoint as you squeeze her cock like a vice.
“Fuck, my angel,” she laughs to herself. “You're fucking perfect.”
You wrap your arms around her shoulders and savor the strokes of their cock inside you. “Please, Tasha,” you mutter.
She likes the way Tasha sounds. She's never been called Tasha before, her nickname has always been Nat. But the way it sounds falling from your lips, like a spell seeping into her skin and pulling her under your enchantment.
And it's hard to deny you when you look as precious as you do.
Her cock slides in and out of you in long, slow strokes as she fills you to the brim. You bite down on your bottom lip, your eyes closing as you breathe long, heavy sighs at the feelings she thrusts into you.
The desire for you, the desire to tear you apart invaded every little crevice of her being as she lost herself to more and more of her urge to fuck you desperate. She wants to hear your angelic voice beg a demon to fuck her nice and deep. She wants to see you fall apart, become a sinner all for her.
She grips your hips tightly, her rough thrusts no longer forgiving as she decides to take you how she wanted. You moan and whimper as your legs climb her waist until they're wrapped around her. She holds your thigh and just keeps thrusting.
You stutter her name, your capacity to remember anything else already slipping. She thrusts into you with all the passion in the world.
And then she pulls out at the pique of your wanton moans. You mewl and uselessly grab at her arms and waist. She separates from you with a sigh and ignores your attempts at bringing her back in, turning you on your stomach instead.
She thrusts inside without another word, filling you up from behind as you let your head hang. “There you go,” she husks. “That's better. Now I can fuck you like a whore.”
You moan, gripping the sheets and letting her do as she pleases. She keeps fucking you, relishing in the building sound of her hips smacking against your slick skin, the sound of you practically crying at the feeling of her fucking you so roughly making it harder to hold back.
“P-Please,” you stutter, clenching harder at the feeling. “Please don't stop. You're…amazing.”
Your gentle praise spurs her on more than she'd intended. She presses her finger to your clit and begins to rub fast, tight circles over it. She wants to feel you come undone. The more you cum on her cock, the more tainted you become with her darkness.
Her cock spears into you, pulling the dirtiest sounds from you as they echoed in the room—skin on skin, wet against wet. Your mouth falls open and you let out breathless cries accompanied with their own pleasured tears as they slip down your cheeks.
It feels so good, and you're going to cum.
You feel your body getting ready for it, building up higher and higher until you can do nothing but moan Natasha's name and shake upon your crashing release.
“Tasha,” you whine, dragging the last syllable out and breaking off into a pathetic moan. She keeps fucking you, groaning roughly as you clench so tightly around her. You gush and moan and she can't help but to fuck you just a little harder.
And when the orgasm melds to a little tremble, she keeps going. One of her hands wraps around your throat, tightening just a bit. She likes to feel her veins thumping under her palm, she likes to feel your life in her hand.
And apparently, so do you as you wrap your hand around hers and hold it securely there. Her eyes close as your pussy tightens, her thrusts become rougher as your moans become louder. She is going to make you cum again, she's set on it.
Your legs are a trembling mess, your arms are slowly dwindling in the strength they need to hold you up. “Please,” you mewl again. “Please don't stop, Tasha. I need you so…fucking bad.”
She feels successful. That's the first time she's heard you curse, and she's so excited to have spoiled your tongue with such a word. She rubs your clit again, wanting to reward you.
“I want you to cum for me again, angel,” she rasps. “All over me. Come on.”
Her thrusts are becoming sloppy, so absorbed in her oncoming release as she readies herself for your own. She pulls you back to meet her thrusts, rough and fast and deep as she continues to build you up.
You moan loudly as the pleasure builds and builds until it snaps. You throw your head back, crying out as you cum with the tight squeeze of your cunt. The warmth and the wetness of your pussy is too much as Natasha follows after you. She moans deeply in her throat as she grinds roughly inside of you, burying her cock in your pussy as if she was cumming in you to give you a deeper taint of your purity.
You allow your arms to give out as you fall forward onto the bed and muffle your moans into the sheets. She keeps gripping your hips tight, still riding out her high as she moans your name and lets out a string of curses.
Your whole body is shuddering by the time both your pleasure is reduced to tiny spasms through your limbs. She thrusts her hips a couple more times before pulling out of you with a long sigh.
You roll onto your side, lazily lying there as you glance up at Natasha with heavy eyelids. She runs a hand through her hair and gathers herself, looking down at you as the pride shimmers in her eyes and her chest.
She watches you, smiling, though she can't help a prickle of confusion when she takes in the sight of you. You lay there, half-asleep and completely spent, bare and vulnerable and exploited by her darkness.
And, yet, you look every bit like an angel as when she first met you. You look just as sweet, smell just as sweet, smile at her just as sweetly.
“Thank you,” you whisper sweetly. She watches you, watches as you pat the spot next to you and cast your innocent eyes on her.
And she's curious, so she lays down where you offer her a spot. Then you cup her cheek with the palm of your hand and kiss her, a long and slow and gentle kiss that Natasha becomes conflicted with as she leans into it.
Then you wrap your arms around her body and pull her in tight so she can't escape—or, she could… but she won't. All that time spent trying to corrupt you, and you're still the virtuous little angel she met at the coffee shop, cradling her in your arms and kissing her forehead and thanking her for the night of passionate fucking she'd just given you.
There is a warmth in your arms that Natasha hasn't felt in a long time. She's not quite sure if she's ever felt a warmth like this. She leans into it, she feels herself succumbing to your purities, despite her best efforts.
Curious, she lets you hold her, even longer after you had fallen asleep as she could safely slip away into the night, never to see you again.
But, no… You intrigue her. She couldn't leave now, especially if there was still so much virtue left in you. She will have to stick around. Yes… she will have to keep you a while longer.
You are a rare delicacy. She couldn't let you go to waste.
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꒰ 𝒓𝒐𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒔 ✩࿐
pairings: alhaitham, kaveh, kazuha, lyney, scaramouche, and xiao x gn!reader (separate)
content: fluff, modern au, college au, the reader is a sleep-deprived student, correction: everyone in this fic is a sleep-deprived student, cuddling, reader is sick in scara’s, venti makes a cameo in kazuha’s part, reverse comfort in kaveh’s
summary: small scenarios with the genshin boys as your roommates! ♡
a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts for a while, so i decided to finally finish it up. i hope you enjoy!
₊˚ପ ALHAITHAM
Tonight, it feels like endless night ebbs and flows into the very core of your being, chilling you with fragments of a glacial atmosphere.
It’s cold.
Even with multiple blankets wrapped around you, you can’t help but shiver, shake like a vibrant autumn leaf in a passing zephyr. Winter is approaching, and unfortunately for you, you may have relished a little too much in the gilded threads of summer warmth that had graced the world a few months prior. For now, you’re unable to stand the gradual freeze that’s beginning to spread throughout your city.
Slumber is tempting. It lures you in, wrapping you in a blanket weaved of starlight and dreams. However, it’s all an illusion. In reality, you’re far from sleep. You know that there’s no way you’ll be able to pass the gateway into the oneiric realm. Not with the sensation of frostbite threatening to consume you whole.
Eventually, you decide to get up. You’re certain that you won’t be able to fall asleep, at least, not without more blankets, so you decide to make your way to Alhaitham’s room to ask if he has any spares.
Although you’d normally feel guilty for rousing someone from slumber, it’s not that late as of right now. Either way, you’re quite certain that your roommate is still wide awake, most likely losing himself amongst the yellowed pages of a verbose book. After all, he always seems to have his nose buried in a complex tome, filled with words that make your brain hurt.
Slowly, you drag yourself out from under the plush covers of your bed. The floorboards groan slightly as you stand, exhaling under the pressure of your footsteps. You make your way down a hallway drowned in shades of midnight, making your way towards the golden light seeping out into the corridor from under the cracks of a closed door.
The door to Alhaitham’s room.
You knock, the sound seemingly echoing down the walls of the hall, repeating in a chorus of onomatopoeia.
A few seconds pass before the door opens to reveal Alhaitham. Strands of silver hair messily frame his face, and yet as the aquamarine hues of his irises meet your gaze, you find that he’s just as dazzling as ever.
“Do you need something?” he asks, his voice as flat and monotonous as always. As usual, your roommate’s front doesn’t betray a single hint of emotion. Not even irritation.
You pause for a moment, still a little intimidated by Alhaitham. Although you’ve been living together for a while now, his apathetic demeanour can be slightly off-putting at times. Nonetheless, you eventually manage to steel your nerves.
“Yeah,” you say. The word comes tumbling out of your mouth like the iridescent droplets of a waterfall. “Do you happen to have any extra blankets?”
Alhaitham pauses for a moment, seemingly deep in thought.
You hold your breath, hoping that he’ll say yes, and you’ll be able to get this over with.
However, he shakes his head, and you feel your heart drop, shattering into a thousand shards of fragmented ruby.
“Oh,” you sigh, trying your best to hide the dejected expression overtaking your features. “That’s okay. Sorry for bothering you.”
You turn away, ready to head back to your room, but Alhaitham’s voice stops you.
“I think it’s safe to presume you wanted a blanket because you were cold, right?”
It’s a rhetorical question, so you don’t bother to answer it. Instead, you freeze, becoming akin to a stunning statue carved of pale blue ice.
“Then allow me to propose an alternate solution.”
You turn around, meeting Alhaitham’s eyes once more. Lakes of turquoise, typically devoid of emotion, are now filled with a particular spark. You can’t quite determine what it is, but there’s a subtle glimmer — barely visible, but it’s there.
“Why don’t you stay in my room for the night?”
Your eyes widen, and you feel your jaw drop. For a moment, you just stand there, absolutely still and dumbfounded.
Perhaps you had heard Alhaitham wrong. Or maybe your mind is playing tricks on you, making mirages materialize out of nothing. The blank expression painted over your roommate’s features certainly makes you think so.
“Excuse me?” you blink languidly, staring at Alhaitham as if he’ll disappear into thin air if you take your eyes off him.
“I said why don’t you stay in my room for the night?” he repeats nonchalantly, the evening chill seemingly intertwining itself into his tone. His gaze remains fixated on you.
Your mind blanks for a second, each intricate acrylic line of a composition painted over, leaving you with nothing but an empty canvas. As you stand still, a thousand scenarios seem to flash through your head, filling up the blank space with a myriad of thoughts — some pleasant and some unpleasant. However, you soon realize that you don’t have time to weigh all the pros and cons of your decision, as Alhaitham is staring at you intently, awaiting your answer.
“Sure,” you blurt out.
You’re not sure what compels you to accept his proposal. Perhaps it’s your longing for the comfort of shared warmth. Perhaps it’s a result of your inability to say no to others due to a fear of disappointing them. Or perhaps it’s because you’ve grown a lot closer to Alhaitham than you’d care to admit.
Although you’re still slightly intimidated by him, you’re certain that he’d never do anything to harm you. And there are even times where he shows he has your best interests in mind (despite the fact that you were initially under the impression that he cared little for others).
You’re snapped out of your trance of reminiscence as Alhaitham speaks once more.
“Alright,” he says, taking your hand and leading you over to his bed. His grip is firm — not suffocating, but at the same time, not so soft that the connection between the two of you would be easily severed.
Alhaitham’s touch sends butterflies, tinted a colour reminiscent of spring blossoms, dancing within the pit of your stomach. It’s enchanting, and at this rate, you’re not sure how you’ll be able to handle sleeping in the same bed as him.
He allows you to climb into bed first, tucking you in with an unexpected amount of care. You know Alhaitham’s not exactly the cold-hearted jerk many make him out to be, but you didn’t anticipate that he’d be this gentle, his touch akin to the caress of sunlight on a spring day.
After the man ensures that you’re cozy, he lies down beside you, embracing you. As he does so, you feel a wave of heat overwhelm you. To your relief, the frigidness that had once gnawed at your very soul is now gone, but unfortunately, you’re faced with a new problem.
Alhaitham’s actions have flustered you, and to your misfortune, it feels as though crimson embers of embarrassment are transforming into flames far too quickly for your liking.
You’ve solved one issue, but in turn, you’ve accidentally created another.
This is going to be a long night.
₊˚ପ KAVEH
It’s no secret that your roommate is a perfectionist.
Whenever his eyebrows knit up in a jumble of discontent and pools of liquid ruby tinged with sunsets glint with hints of frustration, it becomes obvious what’s going on. He’s spent too long trying to perfect yet another assignment. The bags that seem to perpetually line the undersides of his eyes are dark shadows — serving as an eternal reminder to the man’s exhaustion.
There are times where you find him hunched over his desk, teetering on a thin tightrope, walking a line between the waking world and a wonderland of dreams. Of course, he refuses to succumb to the temptations of a golden slumber time and time again, forcing himself to fixate on his projects until he’s finished and happy with the final product.
Today is one of those days. The cold light that leaks through the cracks beneath the door to Kaveh’s room seeps into the hallway, serving as a warning written in a display of molten opalescence.
Stark white. Cutting through the darkness of deep midnights with ease.
It’s jarring, and when you press your ear to the door and listen carefully, you manage to make out the sound of Kaveh muttering underneath his breath.
You know you have to do something. Now. Before your roommate decides to work himself half to death again.
You take a deep breath, inhaling night air reminiscent of the crystalline waters. It’s refreshing, and as you breathe out, a sense of tranquility washes over you.
Steeling yourself, you knock on Kaveh’s door, the sound seemingly reverberating through the corridor in a myriad of echoes.
“[Name]? Is that you?” he asks, his voice ringing out loudly, fragmenting and shattering the quiet ambience.
You hear the sounds of drawers opening and closing, papers rustling, and footsteps falling.
“There’s no point in hiding anything,” you tell your roommate, picturing the distress swirling like nebulae in his vibrant crimson eyes. “I know you’ve been working late again.”
The noises come to a halt, and peace returns to the late night atmosphere once more. Soon, the sound of soft footsteps fill your senses, gradually growing louder in a crescendo until you’re sure that Kaveh is right in front of the door.
And then it swings open to reveal a sleep-looking Kaveh clad in pyjamas.
“Alright, I’ll admit it,” he sighs. “You caught me red-handed.”
Silence permeates your senses for a few seconds, but the illusion of stillness is quickly shattered as Kaveh breathes out a sigh.
“I just can’t seem to figure out this one last thing,” he groans, burying his head in his hands. “I seriously can’t take it anymore. It’s driving me insane.”
For a few seconds, his gaze remains averted, staring down at the wooden finish of his desk, tinted a subtle peach under the topaz shades of light spilling from Kaveh’s lamp. If you didn’t know any better, you would have sworn that he had fallen asleep. However, your eyes eventually meet hues of dulled rose, glittering with a faint spark concealed by exhaustion.
“You should rest,” you tell your roommate, cautiously placing a hand on his shoulder. To your relief, he doesn’t flinch or pull away when you touch him. He simply slumps and begins to stand up.
“I suppose you’re right,” he speaks slowly, his voice laced with resignation. “Perhaps a short break will help me clear my mind.”
Kaveh walks over to his bed, brushing locks of sunshine that threaten to obscure his vision away from his eyes. The mattress sinks like quicksand as he lies down and tucks himself under the covers, enveloping him in layers upon layers of plush comfort.
You turn away, switching Kaveh’s lamp off before you head back to the door. However, just as you’re about to leave, Kaveh calls your name.
“[Name],” Kaveh starts, his voice seemingly amplified by the abyssal midnight overtaking your surroundings.
You spin around, only to be met with the sight of Kaveh’s silhouette outlined against backdrops of navy and black, enveloping the world in curtains of phantasmagoric silk.
“Can you stay with me?” he asks. His voice trembles slightly, and he sounds sheepish — almost shy. “It’s just that, if I don’t have you around, I might convince myself to start working again.”
You freeze.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds.
It takes three seconds for you to fully process Kaveh’s request, and when you do, you feel your heart skip a beat.
“I would be happy to.”
And with Kaveh’s permission, you climb under the covers of his bed with him. He wraps an arm around you. The position feels far too intimate for two roommates who harbour nothing more than platonic feelings for each other, but you decide that that’s a problem for future you to address.
For now, you decide to close your eyes and seek solace in a realm of breathtaking dreamscapes. Finding joy in each cotton candy cloud, each droplet of crystal rain, and each gilded leaf within a fantastical world found far away from reality.
And yet as you drift off to sleep, you find that there’s one thing in the waking world that has become far more tantalizing than anything your imagination could ever conjure: the warmth of Kaveh’s embrace.
₊˚ପ KAZUHA
Golden ribbons of warmth caress your face as you open your eyes to find yourself awake again. A wave of tranquility washes over you, weighing down your eyelids with a serene lullaby — an ode to quiet mornings spent in the solace of your home. You want nothing more than to stay in bed for a few more minutes, but you have classes.
Groggily, you stretch and then pick your phone up from where it’s sitting on your nightstand in order to check the time. The screen lights up with a cold radiance, a stark contrast to the gilded rays of the sun, as you turn it on.
And that’s when all hell breaks loose.
It’s 9:30 a.m., and you’ve already missed the start of your first class. You grimace internally, but you can’t dwell on your feelings for too long. After all, the longer you delay, the more you’ll miss.
You change in record time, pulling on a comfortable hoodie and jeans, grab a few of your belongings, and rush out the door.
The chilly autumn air brushes against your skin as you make your way to class, and the enticing fragrance of sap hits your nose, tantalizing you with a perfume that carries nostalgic memories. In the corners of your vision, you watch as leaves coloured shades of vivid crimson, marigold, and amber swirl in a waltz signaling the end of summer and the beginnings of harsher days. The scenery is beautiful, and if you weren’t in a panic, you would have stopped to admire it. However, you force yourself to ignore the scenes around you, continuing to focus on your primary objective.
When you arrive at the lecture hall, you’re panting. Simple oxygen feels like ambrosia to you, sweet and satisfying, refreshing in a way that it’s never been before. For a few moments, you stand outside the room and catch your breath. With each inhale and exhale, you get closer and closer to finding a rhythm until finally, you’re no longer gasping for air.
Quietly, you walk into class, trying your best to avoid disturbing anyone. Thankfully, nobody seems to notice as you take a seat near the back of the hall, settling down in your seat. Time passes slowly as class continues on, and it almost feels like universal laws operate differently within the small bubble of the room you’re currently sitting in. Everything seems to take an eternity, and you can’t do anything except watch the minutes tick by, each addition of one moving you closer and closer to the end of a mundane lecture.
It feels like the moment will never arrive, but eventually, you’re dismissed. Thankfully, there’s quite a while until you have to go to your next class, so you decide to wander around for a while.
For a while, you stroll aimlessly, eventually finding yourself back outdoors once more. Now, you can truly savour the beauty of your surroundings, relish in the splendor of each flaming leaf that drifts by and each rivulet of tepid light that pierces through the crystalline coolness of the autumn air.
You stand there for a while, simply enjoying a break after a hectic morning.
Until something else — or rather, someone else — catches your eye.
Under the shade of a maple tree stands your roommate, basking in the glory of a crimson waterfall composed entirely of maple leaves dancing gracefully until they hit the ground. His platinum hair is tied back in its usual ponytail, each strand of silken moonlight swaying as a gentle zephyr blows by, and his eyes are a shade of ruby that flawlessly mimics the autumnal landscape.
He’s as breathtaking as ever.
But before you can admire him for long, hues of starglitter and rose petals meet your gaze, and a small smile dances across his lips. Without a word, he walks over to you.
“Running into you here is certainly a pleasant surprise,” he says, his grin widening.
“You say that as if we don’t already live together,” you remark, laughing a little.
He chuckles, the sound as light and airy as autumn winds swirling leaves around in a waltz of farewells. The lighthearted atmosphere is truly euphoric, especially after such a stressful morning.
Of course, good things never last for long.
“Good morning, Kazuha. Good morning, [name]. How’s my favourite couple?” a cheery voice asks. In the edges of your vision, you see a figure donning twin braids of sapphire and turquoise approaching. It’s Venti — one of Kazuha’s friends.
Both you and Kazuha freeze, a frigidity crystallizing the ambience into icy fractals. And yet at the same time, you can feel your face beginning to heat up.
Couple?
Before you can clear up the misunderstanding, Kazuha speaks.
“Good morning to you too, Venti,” he says. “We’re doing well, but I’m afraid you’re mistaken.” Kazuha subtly averts his gaze, staring at the ground, but you swear you can see a blush dawning on his cheeks in shades of sunset. “[Name] and I aren’t a couple.”
“Oh really?” Venti asks teasingly, giggling in a manner that sounds almost maniacal, “then why are they wearing your hoodie?”
You look down, and sure enough, the top you chose to wear today was Kazuha’s. He had allowed you to borrow it a few days ago when you complained about the chilly autumn weather, and you had forgotten to return it. Apparently you were in such a rush this morning that you pulled it on without a second thought.
“It was an accident,” you blurt out, wanting to clear up the misconception as soon as possible. “I woke up late, and I was in a hurry.”
“Uh huh,” Venti nods, his tone laced with sarcasm. “Sure. I believe you.”
“No, seriously. We’re not a couple,” you reiterate, sighing as Venti laughs quietly.
“Whatever you say,” he says. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere to be. I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone.”
Without another word, Venti skips off, jubilantly humming to himself. And now, you’re alone with Kazuha, left to deal with the awkward aftermath of Venti’s assumptions.
“That was… interesting,” you remark.
Kazuha nods.
“I hope you didn’t feel too uncomfortable,” he says, smiling at you gently, a light blush still coating his cheeks. Although you’ll never admit it out loud, you find him quite cute when he’s flustered. Venti would have a field day if he knew you found your roommate so adorable.
“I’m fine,” you reassure Kazuha, “and I’ll return your hoodie to you as soon as possible,” you add.
However, to your surprise, Kazuha shakes his head.
“You can keep it if you want,” he tells you.
“Really?”
Kazuha chuckles.
“Really,” he assures you. “As long as you don’t mind being mistaken for a couple, that is. I know I certainly don’t.”
₊˚ପ LYNEY
“Lyney, if I remember correctly, you told me you perform magic as a sort of side hustle, right?” you ask your roommate.
The question is out of the blue, but you want nothing more than to learn about the man you’ve recently grown to be infatuated with. Besides, he’ll probably think nothing of it. After all, it’s only natural for someone to want to get to know their roommate anyway.
“Yeah, I guess you’d be right,” he responds, averting his gaze from his phone and glancing at you. “Although I’d say it’s more about putting on a good show than the money.”
Lilac hues make your mind go blank as you make eye contact, enchanting you with oceans full of stardust and sunshine alike. Lilac. It’s a colour you’ve come to adore. Before meeting Lyney, it was a shade known to you as the border between night and day, mixed into compositions of dawning sunrises and fading sunsets. But now, it’s synonymous with magic and mystery, and it’s all thanks to your charming roommate.
“Oh, I see,” you mutter.
You’re surprised that your voice doesn’t end up shaking. Simply looking into Lyney’s eyes is causing your heart to beat rapidly, igniting crimson sparks of giddiness and glee with each thump.
Perhaps this is what it feels like to be in love.
“Why do you ask?” Lyney inquires, tilting his head slightly. “Are you interested in seeing a trick?”
Lyney flashes a charming smile at you — a smile embodying the enigmatic charms of various twilight hues. He reaches his hand up to brush the few strands of dusky hair that had fallen in front of his eyes away, and somehow, the subtle action makes you find him all the more attractive.
“I would love to,” you say, “if it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”
You wait with bated breath, feeling the whole world still as you await Lyney’s response. The carefree atmosphere solidifies into something denser, heavier, as tension begins to build.
“Well, I usually don’t do private shows like this, especially not out of the blue,” he remarks.
For a second, you feel your smile fall.
“But since it’s you, I can try,” Lyney says.
A grins dances upon your lips once more, and the elation from before comes back in full force. Unbridled adoration swirls through your heart, taking down each and every glacial barrier in a roaring tempest of rose and vermillion. With every day that passes, you feel yourself falling deeper and deeper into the clutches of romantic fantasies.
“Thank you.”
With that, Lyney rushes to his room. A few seconds later, he returns with some props and a top hat, midnight black adorned with velvety scarlet and magenta detailing, perched upon his head.
He performs for you, and it’s absolutely enamouring. His prowess is incredible, and it’s clear he’s enjoying putting on a show for you. The entire performance is interesting, captivating. However, it’s Lyney’s last act that stands out to you most of all.
“I’m sure you’re wondering what my grand finale will be,” Lyney announces with a fiery sort of flamboyance. It’s amusing because you’re the only audience member, but at the same time, slightly endearing.
He takes his hat off, reaching his hand into the void within. Slowly, he pulls something out.
The verdant green of a stem lined with thorns appears first. Then you catch sight of luscious leaves. And lastly, the delicate petals of a rose enter your line of vision. They’re tinted a vibrant purple, reminiscent of sparkling amethysts.
“For you,” Lyney says, handing you the flower.
Upon closer examination, you note that the rose is unblemished. It’s perfect. You wonder if Lyney put any thought into picking out this particular flower, but you brush the thought off. Embers of newly-kindled feelings of romance brush against your skin.
You’re flustered.
Flustered beyond measure.
Awkwardly, you take the rose from Lyney, your heart fluttering as your fingers accidentally bump against his. His skin is soft, and his touch is tantalizing. You wouldn’t mind feeling his hand in yours.
“Thank you,” you manage to whisper, averting your gaze and looking anywhere but into the very lavender irises that will never fail to enchant you. “It’s stunning.”
“A stunning flower for a stunning person,” Lyney says. The sincerity lacing his tone doesn’t go unnoticed, and you have to stop yourself from melting on the spot. “Do you know what the purple rose represents?”
You shake your head as sudden curiosity and cupid’s final arrow strike simultaneously.
He leans in, moving so close that you can feel strands of silken platinum tickle your skin. A soft breath lightly brushes against your ear as he opens his mouth to speak.
“Love at first sight.”
₊˚ପ SCARAMOUCHE
Weak beams of winter light filter through the curtains of the window beside your bed, illuminating your room with a radiance tinted pale blue. With a foggy mind, you make your way over to the window, leaving the warmth and comfort of your covers to do so. The chill pokes at your skin like a thousand miniature needles of ice, and yet you continue on.
As soon as velvety veils of fabric fall away from glass panes, glacial sunshine spills through. The panoramic scenery that welcomes you is a glazed-over landscape, thick blankets of pure white sprinkled with glimmers of stardust. Even the branches of the tall evergreen trees surrounding your home are dusted with powdered opal. Nothing is free from the frigid caress of winter, and you’re suddenly reminded of this fact as you start coughing.
Oh. You’re sick.
You blink slowly, an unbearable headache making itself known by jumbling your thoughts into nothing more than incoherence. Begrudgingly, you decide to lie back down, pulling a few blankets over you in order to stay warm. However, the layer of plush protection isn’t enough to shield you, as shivers continue to wrack your body.
For a while, you just lie there, huddled and trying to cling onto any remaining heat, any remaining comfort. You close your eyes, feeling absolutely helpless against the coolness that threatens to permeate the very essence of your being. The world around you begins to become distant as grogginess and discomfort plague you, but soon enough, you’re snapped out of your haze.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The last thing you want to do is answer the door.
“[Name]? Are you in there?” your roommate, Scaramouche, calls. As usual, irritation laces his tone, but there’s something new this time. Maybe you’re delusional, but it almost sounds like concern.
“Yeah. Come in,” you manage to respond.
Your voice is unsurprisingly hoarse, and you have to strain in order to be heard. However, in the end, it seems that you were just loud enough because seconds later, the door opens with a click. In its wake, a man with hair reminiscent of desolate midnights walks in. Soon enough, you find your gaze meeting hues of deep twilight fading into a paler shade of periwinkle akin to the colour of forget-me-nots.
“Wow, you look awful,” Scaramouche remarks bluntly, examining you.
You feel yourself shrink under his gaze.
“Can you not?” you shoot back, mustering the strength to glare at him between coughs and sniffles. “I'm kind of dying here.”
Scaramouche scoffs.
“Fine. I’ll leave you alone,” he says, turning away and walking out the door.
Once again, silence envelops the atmosphere, ebbing and flowing throughout the greys and blues of an early winter morning in soundless waves. Although you’re thankful for the serene ambience, you also feel awfully lonely now that your roommate is gone. All you can do now is stare blankly at the wall in front of you and entertain yourself with your own thoughts.
Time becomes a blur, and yet it stretches on as well. It feels like you’re trapped in a sort of limbo — suspended in a mundane reality without any sort of respite or the slightest idea of when you’ll finally find your refuge.
That is, until you hear the hinges of the door creak once more.
Scaramouche is back.
You look up. To your surprise, the glints of starlight that dance within his indigo eyes show a rare sort of softness, and he’s carrying a bowl of soup.
Without a word, he sets the bowl on your bedside table, staring at you expectantly.
“Is that for me?” you ask.
Scaramouche groans, rolling his eyes.
“Who did you think it was for?” he says, averting his gaze.
A small smile dances across your lips. Although your roommate doesn’t want to show that he cares for you, you’re beginning to realize that he’s looking out for you in his own way.
“Thank you,” you respond. However, just as you’re about to reach for the soup, you’re attacked by another fit of coughs.
Scaramouche’s eyes fixate on you once more, and he sighs.
“Do you need me to spoon feed you or something?” Although it sounds like he’s mocking you, you can tell he’s serious to some extent.
“Do you want to feed me?” you say, trying to muster a playful tone. Even though you’re sick, teasing Scaramouche is as fun as ever.
“I will if it means you’ll shut up,” he mutters, taking the bowl carefully and scooping up a spoon of the soup.
With caution and a shocking amount of attentiveness, he lifts the spoon to your lips, and you open your mouth. To your surprise, the soup is actually quite tasty. You didn't expect your roommate to be such a good cook.
“How was it?” Scaramouche asks after you swallow. Not a hint of emotion shows through the veils of apathy he’s crafted as he awaits your response.
“It was amazing,” you remark genuinely. “I’d love to try some more of your cooking, and… thanks for taking care of me.”
Scaramouche looks away, but as he does, you notice a colour reminiscent of delicate rose petals rising to his cheeks, tinting porcelain akin to the snow outside a vivid shade.
“Don’t mention it.”
₊˚ପ XIAO
Procrastination is every student’s worst enemy, and you’re no different.
You had spent the past few days putting off your latest assignments and neglecting your studies more than you’d care to admit. It’s not that you didn’t want to work and study, but every time you tried to start on something, you’d feel put off by the copious amounts of labour you’d have to put in. And unfortunately, now you’re reaping the consequences of the seeds you had previously sowed.
It’s currently 1 a.m., and all you can see outside the window is ebony fragmented by the occasional streetlight or polychromatic star. Your eyelids are beginning to droop of their own volition, but you force yourself to stay awake. You have something important due later today, and unfortunately, you’ve barely even started on it.
So you have no choice but to continue on, allowing yourself to fall into the treacherous grasp of sleep-deprivation all because of your poor decision-making skills.
The minutes seem to count down all too quickly as you toil, yet at the same time, the mundane assignment makes every second feel like an eon. It’s a paradoxical distortion of the universe’s concepts, but it’s something you’ve grown far too accustomed to in your time as a student. Panic and hopelessness set in more and more with every tick of the clock, and eventually, you lose all sense of time, burying yourself in a pile of work.
The next time you look up, you notice that it’s well past your first scheduled break time, and you’re absolutely exhausted.
You stand up, stretching and relishing the sensation of being able to move your aching limbs after hours of sitting in the same position, mulling over boring assignments. However, your momentary respite is ruined, as it isn’t long before the creaking of a door pulls you out from the temporary euphoria that had taken over your mind.
“Hey,” a calm voice utters. It’s melodic like a beautiful song you wouldn’t mind hearing on repeat. “Are you alright?”
You turn around, and as expected you’re met with the sight of your roommate. Honeyed eyes filled with a dandelion warmth shimmer when met with the dim incandescent glow of your desk lamp, and locks of seafoam frame his pale face. Even though his hair is messy, and there are visible bags under his eyes, Xiao looks as stunning as ever.
“I’m fine,” you say, miraculously stringing together a couple of words despite your exhaustion.
“You’ve been up all night,” Xiao observes, glancing at your messy desk — a testament to the few hours you had been chipping away at your work. Somehow in that time, you’ve managed to make it look as though some sort of wild tempest had ravaged your room.
“You’re saying that as if you don’t stay up all the time,” you shoot back.
You flinch. Your tone is harsh and dripping with venom, but you hadn’t meant your words in that way. They were from a place of concern, but it seems that Xiao understands.
“That’s true,” he remarks, “but I’m not as keen on working myself to death as you are.”
A second passes.
Then you realized that you may have gotten a little bit carried away due to your momentary burst of energy — a rush of exhilaration prompted by a sense of urgency.
“Oh.”
Xiao sighs.
“You need a break,” he says, hesitantly walking over to you and intertwining your fingers with his.
His actions surprise you. Most of the time, Xiao avoids touch, but now, he’s holding your hand. The tepidness of Xiao’s skin on yours causes lucidity to wash over you. Suddenly, you feel more aware of your surroundings.
Your roommate pulls you out the door, exiting your dorm swiftly before you can refuse. Truthfully, you wouldn’t have denied him his demand anyway. Although Xiao seems like a tough person on the outside, his heart is forged of silvery moonbeams — glittering lights that illuminate the world with a subtle phosphorescence, not quite as glaring as rays of sunlight, but equally as bright, nonetheless. As a result, you’ve grown to develop a soft spot for him.
When you exit the building, the first thing you notice is the crisp, fresh air. After staying cooped up in your room for so long, it’s relieving to breathe in the liquified stardrops dissolved within the night atmosphere. Your head clears up nearly instantaneously, and finally, you feel a sense of peace wash over you.
“Feeling better?” Xiao asks, noticing the change in your expression immediately.
He’s usually not the brightest when it comes to interpreting emotions, so your prior distress must have been extremely obvious. Nonetheless, you brush off your embarrassment and swallow your pride, nodding to reassure Xiao that yes, this is helping, and yes, you’d like to stay here with him for a while longer.
Xiao seems to get what you’re trying to convey, so he continues walking, leading you under the gold-lacquered light of the lamps lining the path before you. Right now, it feels as though your hearts are connected, and for once, you’re under the impression that Xiao’s let down his walls.
You know that once your midnight escapades cease, you’ll have to face a world of pain, but perhaps it’s worth it.
After all, exhaustion is temporary, but maybe, just maybe, this lavender haze will endure forevermore.
thank you for reading!! if you liked this, i’d really appreciate it if you reblogged this fic.
#r.archives *ೃ༄#favoniuslibrary#astronetwrk#alhaitham x reader#kaveh x reader#kazuha x reader#lyney x reader#scaramouche x reader#wanderer x reader#xiao x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#genshin fanfic#genshin imagines#genshin headcanons#genshin x you#genshin fluff
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honestly just the idea of aegon being obsessed with reader is just insane. like he’s fully obsessed with her, he doesn’t want anyone else to have her, and she’s seemingly innocent so he wants to teach her how to do things and gets angry when other guys make a move on her. idk if this makes sense??
Warnings: Dark. Dub con. Pervy men. A lot of smut. Incest implied but not stated. Public sex. 18+
A/N: Ahh I'm loving obsessed Aegon and want to make him a bit softer. However, I hope you're okay I made it into more of a head canon/drabble and added a little bit of Aemond at the bottom because I miss him.
Aegon
Obsessed!Aegon who wakes up wrapped up in his sheets with you, bodies pressed so tightly together. This could have been such a sweet moment, the early light of the sun beating down on your skin, but Aegon’s perverse mind never allowed him a moment's peace. It’s what you woke to, Aegon kissing underneath one of his t-shirts you wore, positioned between your legs as he tried to wake you. You could feel his hard dick pushed up to your damp panties, rubbing slowly against you as he tried to get off. You whimper at the feel of him, mumbling his name to get his attention. As soon as he realised you were awake, his head is popping out of your t-shirt, asking if you wanted him to make you feel good. One nod and that man is grinding against you, making you both whimper and moan in bliss.
Obsessed!Aegon who comes down for breakfast a minute later than you, not wanting to draw attention to the both of you if you came down together. However, he can’t help but eye you up as he makes himself a coffee, wondering why you look so good. As soon as he sits next to you, he’s asking you these questions. Which leads you to reply with an “are you joking?” look as you raise your brows at him. But he’s insistent and all you can do is laugh pointing out your bed head, the baggy t-shirt of his and joggers that you are wearing. He still swears you look good and to prove that he places your hand over his boner, thrusting his hips up into it for a tiny bit of release. You quickly steal it away, ducking your head away as you try to hide your flushed face from the prying eyes around the table.
Obsessed!Aegon who literally feels like just touching you isn’t enough. He is the kind to be so obsessed he needs to be under your skin. Being buried inside those velvet walls of yours will just have to do. You’re literally trying to get ready, putting your makeup on at his desk with your little setup but he’s so damn needy. He’s literally got you on his lap, holding you a few inches above him as he fucks into you. You’re scolding him for his behaviour at first, telling him he needs to get his head out of the gutter. But then his cock is hitting that spot inside of you that has you biting down on your lip, hand falling onto one of his thighs as your nails dig in. It’s a few seconds later, when Aegon is kissing you, practically shoving his tongue down your throat to keep you quiet, that his mum knocks on the door, asking if he knows where you’ve ran off to. With his hand pressed against your lips, he’s saying he has no idea, drilling into you harshly.
Obsessed!Aegon who admires how dressed up you got for your date with him even if it took longer than expected (because of how much of a horn dog he is). Who is cursing in his head though that you had to wear that sundress he loved so much, especially when it had the man at the ice cream stand eyeing you up so much. But he’s later thankful for it as he pushes you down into the grass behind some trees, kissing down your body as you try to push him away. He pouts up at you, with a darkened gaze as he asks, “you love me, don’t you?” That’s all he needs as you spread your legs, allowing him to hike that sundress up to your waist, wasting no time as he attaches his mouth to your soaked panties, only moving them to the side when he thinks your moans aren’t loud enough for him.
Obsessed!Aegon who grins proudly as you stumble back to his car, making sure to pass the ice cream stand on the way. The man from before is now staring at you with wide eyes, noticing your fucked out expression as you practically cling onto Aegon. He makes sure to park the car somewhere a bit more secluded, knowing he won’t make it back to the house in time to have you. Within seconds he has you bare in the back seats, legs pressed between the pair of you as he folds you in half. You whine at him afterwards, telling him he ruined your makeup and hair but he soothes your sadness with a featherlight kiss on your cheek, telling you that he likes you better just like this.
Obsessed!Aegon who didn’t even realise that you had spent all day out together, not answering a single call from your parents. They’re waiting for you, being instantly alarmed by your appearance. You’ve ruined your dress with grass stains, there are leaves in your done up hair as well. Aegon is quick to joke about how you fell, because of how clumsy you are and they eventually believe him, even if they don’t want to.
Obsessed!Aegon who waits impatiently for you to make your way to his bedroom. Honestly he is thinking about going to find you and dragging you here himself. But then you’re poking your head through his door, slipping in quietly in that matching set and silk robe he loved so much. You’ve moisturised as well, easily being able to glide his hand up your legs. He’s biting on his knuckles, trying to restrain himself from marking up every part of your body. The only thought that stops him is the idea of you bouncing on his cock, eager to teach you the new position as he strips you of your clothes. He guides you up and down, letting you take full control as he just lies back to watch your tits jiggle as you ride him. But he doesn’t last long, hands having to grope every part of your naked skin, mouth attaching to one of your nipples as he takes control, fucking into you.
Obsessed!Aegon who knows he puts you through a lot with his constant needs but does really care about you. He shows you that as he bathes you with affection under the steam of the shower. He doesn’t try to fuck you or get himself off in the process. Instead he rubs your back soothingly as he holds you in his arms, telling you how good you are to him, how he wouldn’t have you any other way.
Aemond
Obsessed!Aemond who is slightly different in the way he treats you. Waking you up with his mouth attached to your folds, licking and drinking you so you wake up already moaning as your day begins. He wants you to know how much he cares for you, how much he desires you, pushing two fingers into you as he licks at your swollen clit. You looked best like this, strung out on noises of pleasure as you laid in his bed, completely forgetting where you are as you become louder.
Obsessed!Aemond who swears he hasn’t got a super high sex drive but does find you incredibly divine in the morning. He can’t help but press a soft kiss to your cheeks as you eat your breakfast, not caring who sees. He also can’t help but deny how much he enjoys how you smother him in kisses when you’ve managed to get away from your family, returning the affection ten fold as you cuddle into him.
Obsessed!Aemond who can’t deny you when you touch him. He knows your kisses and cuddling was only meant to be innocent but you don’t understand how badly you drive him wild when your tits press up against his chest or the way you press down on his crotch. He’s indecent he knows for taking advantage of the situation, turning your playful touches into a full make out session. The kisses are sloppy as he looks to have you a pathetic mess on top of him, guiding your hips to take your own pleasure as you grind your hips down and onto him.
Obsessed!Aemond, whose jealousy is twisted and cruel, that burns within him as he watches another man at the shopping centre trying desperately to flirt with you. Of course you don’t flirt back, you’re too innocent to know what’s going on as you smile at the man. He’s dragging you into the nearest bathroom, making it clear to the man what he’s about to do, while all you can do is follow him. The floor of the bathroom is dirty but Aemond doesn’t care, shoving you to your knees in front of him as he whips out his cock from the restraint of his jeans. His hand is tight in your hair as he groans, fucking into your mouth without care for how your jaw aches or for how you gag. You’re a drooling mess around him, eager to please as you hollow out your cheeks, only to cry and try harder when he hisses that you can definitely do better.
Obsessed!Aemond who cleans you up, cleaning you up with wet wipes from that dirty bathroom. Even promising he’ll shower you and take good care of you when you get home, trying to make you stop pouting at him with those wet eyes. He pushes you out of the bathroom, lacing his hand with yours as he guides you to your favourite shop, hoping that maybe a nice treat would get him back on your good side again.
Obsessed!Aemond who gets you guys home at a reasonable time to avoid any confrontation with your parents. Only for your mother to eye him up as he notices the bags of shopping you had got all on his credit card, not understanding why she was so disapproving of it all as you tried to show her.
Obsessed!Aemond who makes good word of his promises, already having a hot bath waiting for you with him inside of it. Lathering up your body with soap as he takes his sweet time caressing every single inch of it. He doesn’t want you to think this is just sex between you so he doesn’t push it any further even when he feels his cock get hard being pressed against your ass cheek. It’s you that’s insistent, guiding his hands to where you need him while you work your hand against him. Both of you cursing into each other's mouths as you try to keep quiet, you rubbing his cock while making good work to slip your thumb against his head, him rubbing circles into your clit, nibbling at your lip as he does so.
Obsessed!Aemond, who pats you dry with a towel, moisturises every inch of your body with lotion, even taking time to braid your hair when you’re finished blow drying it. He places you down onto the bed gently, more than ready to go to sleep but you’re not that tired yet, so he settles for a bit of pillow talk instead. Aemond who can’t help but adore every part of you as you tell him stories, listening to every word as he gets lost in the sound of your laughter. Who couldn’t help himself but kiss you when you looked and sounded so sweet, only meaning to show you how much he cared but within minutes has your leg hooked around his hip as he fucks into you. He takes it slow, apologising that he doesn’t mean to be this way but it’s what you do to him.
#aemond targaryen x reader#aegon targaryen x reader#aegon ii targaryen x reader#dark!aemond targaryen x reader#hotd fanfic#Aemond x reader x aegon#aemond targaryen#aegon targaryen#aegon ii targaryen#dark!aegon x reader#aegon targaryen smut#aemond targaryen smut
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LOST IN THE FIRE FT. BAKUGOU KATSUKI
synopsis: katsuki has never thought about children, but today the thought consumes him from the inside out, and so do you.
contains: female reader. adult pro hero bakugou. established relationship. unprotected sex. a creampie. parental themes ie; mentions of pregnancy and children + reader being a mother. kats has a raging breeding kink and is so super in love! 3.1k wc.
note: sounds so dramatic at the beginning but i swear it is not serious like that :c either way i hope you like it < 3
you drive katsuki insane.
sure, you have your moments—times when you’re unimaginably annoying and butt heads with him over every possible thing, but that’s not what drives him up the wall—it’s the thoughts.
the pesky, never ending thought of you. you’re always there—day or night, rain or shine, like a pretty little parasite living between his ears.
he almost mistook it for a quirk, the way you spread like wildfire through his brain, scorching every inch in the process—but he’s since learned that that was just his way of experiencing love, which, at the time seemed a lot worse.
to this day, you burn hot in his mind—an eternal flame that has no sign of dying out anytime soon.
some days you’re dull, a soft yellow hue flickering in the background as he’s on patrol—too focused on whatever bastard he’s pursuing to ignite the thought of you. some days you’re bright, a fiery orange blaze glowing behind his eyes as you kiss down his torso—intensifying the lower you go.
and every so often, you’ll do or say something that threatens an all out explosion inside his head.
“katsuki!” you gasp, cupping a hand over your mouth as you shuffle into the kitchen, where your boyfriend is tossing spinach into the blender.
“what?!” he whips his head around at light speed, worry woven into his tone as he immediately sifts through a file of the worst-case scenarios. did someone die?
“guess what i just found,” you mumble into your palm, staring down at your phone in the other.
his features soften out upon hearing your words, and who knows, maybe it will be your dramatics that tip him over the edge.
he’s pretty when he’s not wearing a frown—with the morning sun seeping through the window and painting a streak of light onto him, defining the discoloured scar in the middle of his chest, and causing the thin silver chain just above it to glint.
“jesus christ,” he rolls his eyes, turning back to his half assed, thrown together smoothie. last he heard, you were shopping online for groceries the two of you had to pick up later this afternoon—so that tomorrow’s smoothie doesn’t end up like this one, shit. “what?”
“guess!” you grin, clutching your phone near your heart in a display of love for your recent find.
“hell if i know,” he mumbles—the muscles on his back rippling as he slices the tops off of some strawberries. “that damn ice cream you always inhale?”
he’s not wrong in thinking you had been browsing the frozen treats, he knows you well, you’ll give him that—but you placed the order ten minutes ago, and found a new website to entertain you.
“no,” you huff, dragging your slippers against the tile as you inch closer, stopping beside him. “and i shared with you last time, thank you very much.”
“huh?” he wraps an arm behind you, momentarily resting his palm against your ass before pinching at the fat. “one bite isn’t sharing, princess.”
you choose to let that comment fall on deaf ears, quickly spinning the conversation back to where you want it as you hold your phone out.
“look!” you beam, watching his gaze travel over the screen. it’s a picture of a little black onesie with two tiny gauntlets on it, and the words baby dynamight printed in orange and green lettering.
“what about it?” he mutters, not giving anywhere near the amount of excitement as you had hoped.
he thinks he recalls hearing about this—probably had the design shoved in his face the minute he walked into the agency and absentmindedly gave the go ahead because, he didn’t, still doesn’t, and most likely will never give a shit about what other people put on themselves, or their children.
“it’s cute asshole,” you huff, a little disappointed, but not surprised by his reaction in the slightest. you lean your head against his shoulder, looking on as his big, strong hands cut through the fruit with the utmost care. “doesn’t it make you want to have babies?”
“no,” he says, lifting a strawberry halve over his shoulder and holding it for you to bite. “does it make you wanna have ‘em?”
“yeah,” you confess.
“yeah?” he’s in disbelief. to his knowledge, you’ve never expressed the desire to have children, and if he’s honest, katsuki isn’t sure that he even wants them—he’s never given much thought to the idea.
“yeah,” you repeat, biting the fruit out of his hand. you lift your head up and smile—making sure that he knows you really mean it. “a mini us would be so cute, don’t you think? as long as they don’t get your temper, or that resting bitch face of yours.”
how utterly cruel of you to tack on a snarky little comment like that, especially after such a heavy one. he doesn’t know if that’d be cute, he’s never imagined it—until now, that is. he swears he can feel his skin heating up at the mere thought of having a baby with you, and when he thinks about what he’d have to do—no, what he’d get to do to make that a possibility, his mouth goes bone dry.
he doesn’t want you to take his silence the wrong way though, and so he mutters out the one word he think he can manage.
“yeah.”
with that, he slaps the lid onto the blender and presses the power button, hoping to drown out any further thoughts on the matter.
⋆
katsuki spends the following hours thinking about you, specifically, about putting a baby in you. no matter what he does—from eating breakfast to sending a few emails, watching a movie with you to running all your errands together—he just can’t stomp out the embers from earlier that morning.
his thoughts carry over well into the late evening, though you’d never know how strong your effect really is—he’s too well versed in the world of fire and explosives to ever give himself away.
then again, he thinks there might be black smoke coming out of his ears when you invite him into the shower with you before bed—a horrible idea if he knows what’s good for him, but he doesn’t, so in he goes.
“katsuki, we should’ve bought it,” you blurt out, eyeing him up as he rinses the suds from his hair. the muscles along his torso stretch and twist with his movements—crashing waves against his skin that only further your cause.
“huh?” he gently shakes his head around, ridding his locks of any excess water before squinting at you through the one eye that didn’t wind up with shampoo residue in it.
“the baby onesie,” you clarify, snaking your arms around his waist and leaning against his chest in search of warmth—seeing as he’s hogging all the hot water. “what if it’s extinct by the time we have kids?”
we, you and him together.
honestly, he doesn’t know how you do it. he of all people should be indifferent to a little heat—but there you go again, burning him from the inside out.
“it’s my shit, can tell ‘em to make more,” he says, shifting your bodies around so that you’re under the stream of hot water—pure bliss for you both.
“a pink version?” you peer up, blinking through the droplets of water that flock to your eyelashes.
you want a little girl, is that it?
there’s a lump in his throat—another thick cloud of smoke, this time threatening to pour from his mouth. you being pressed up against him isn’t helping either, in fact, all you’re doing is sending all that heat south.
“anything you want, sweetheart,” he responds, pressing a rather short but passionate kiss to your lips—just enough to hold him over.
he’s quick to excuse himself after this, mumbling something about you taking for fucking ever to shave—which, while true, is not why he’s fleeing.
he needs a couple minutes to gather his bearings, to ask himself if he should really do this.
katsuki is responsible, whether it be a condom, or him pulling out the second he feels his cock start to twitch—he’s never finished inside you, but he’s always wanted to.
for him, it’s not the idea of getting you pregnant—that was the one reason he didn’t do it, because he wasn’t ready, nor did he know if a father was something he even wanted to become. instead, he gets off on the thought of him being the only one who gets to cum inside you—you’re his, and that’s one way he’d like to prove it.
however, now that you’ve so easily persuaded him into wanting a mini us—that possibility sounds a lot less like a consequence.
⋆
“‘bout damn time,” he scoffs, seeing as how it’s been over twenty minutes and you’re only just shuffling into the room now. “c’mere.”
you watch him sit up and scoot to the edge of the bed, patting his thigh as an invitation for you to come sit. you don’t know what he’s thinking—you’ve barely dried off, still wrapped in your towel and dripping onto the floor every now and then.
“yes?” you ask, holding the fabric tight against your body as you make your way over.
you come to a halt in front of him, seconds away from opening your mouth again to ask what it is he wants—but he pulls you down onto one of his thighs, spreading his legs so that you’re facing towards his vacant one.
“you really wanna have a baby with me?” he’s looking at you with tiny red hearts in his eyes, already sneaking his fingers beneath the fluffy white material sitting loosely on your thighs.
“of course i do,” you smile, how cute of him—like a little puppy begging for a treat. “maybe even two.”
your words set the hearts ablaze, forcing him to see nothing but you—and you might’ve meant of course i do in the future, but all he can see right now, is you.
he kisses you, letting his lips move against yours freely this time—letting his tongue explore your mouth at will. his middle finger dips between your folds, drawing a line from your clit down to the sticky mess waiting below.
you’re excited too.
he breaks the kiss upon feeling how wet you are, drawing his hand back and looking down to catch the little string of arousal that connects his finger to your cunt.
“katsuki!” you gasp, squeezing your legs together out of embarrassment. pressing up against him in the shower didn’t help your case either, clearly.
“want you just as fuckin’ bad,” he assures, gently urging you off his lap—just to tug you back on immediately after, this time to straddle him.
you let the towel pool at your waist, giving katsuki free reign over your tits—to which he swiftly pops one into his mouth, swirling his tongue around your nipple and tugging it between his teeth.
“katsuki please,” you sigh, rutting yourself against the bulge in his sweats as you fist a hand through the shorter hairs at the back of his head. you don’t have time for this.
“huh? please what? gonna need some more from you, baby,” he hums, looking up at you through hooded lids—his gaze a deep shade of crimson you’ve never seen before.
“fuck me,” you whine, tugging at his waistband. “please.”
a proud grin flashes across his face—no matter how many times he hears it, the sound of you asking to be fucked will forever be his favourite tune.
“move this shit,” he mumbles, tossing the excess fabric to the floor and running his hands down your sides, over your hips, and along the curve of your ass. “fuckin’ gorgeous.”
he tugs his sweats down just barely enough to free his cock—tip pink and wet, leaking onto his fingers as he lines himself up with your entrance. he runs the head of his cock between your folds, collecting a bit of you on his shaft before pushing in.
you’re warm, always welcoming him with a hug—a tight squeeze of your walls that makes it almost impossible for him to bottom out. he knows you need to adjust before he does that—the thickness of his cock proving to be too much every time.
“relax,” he orders, resting his hand at the base of your throat and kissing you once more—because he knows, all too well, that this combination will have you sinking down onto his shaft, melting into him completely.
once his cock is fully sheathed, and he has you right where he wants you—flush against him with your tits in his face, he gets ahead of himself, and makes the mistake of thinking about cumming in you a little too early.
“mmm, feels so good katsuki,” you babble as you start to move your hips, up and down over and over again, warm velvet walls dragging against the entire length of his cock.
and it’s as if someone cut off the oxygen to your bedroom, he feels like he can’t breathe—all he can do is stare, tunnel visioned on the spot where you and him connect.
he already wants to cum—wants to fill you to the brim, watch it come gushing out, and fuck it right back into you. the thought alone has the corners of his vision tingeing orange—a telltale sign that you’re taking over.
a couple more minutes of you bouncing on his cock, and he can feel a burn in his lower gut—this one much more familiar than the one inside his head. still, he might as well be pronounced dead on the spot when he glances down and sees the little ring of arousal you’re leaving at the base of his shaft.
“shit,” he breathes through gritted teeth—resting the crown of his head against your chest as he tries to hold it together.
being completely oblivious to just how close he is to turning to ash—you start to rub circles onto your clit, readying yourself to cum with him.
you start to flutter around his cock, mindlessly babbling about how close you are, about how you’re going to cum for him—and you feel so good, so warm and tight—but right as his cock begins to twitch, he lifts your hips up, and off.
“fuck, fuck,” he pants, chest heaving as he stares down, watching his precious cum spurt from his tip and run down the sides of his shaft. what a waste.
“katsuki,” you drawl, soft and sweet as you brush the hairs matted to his forehead back. “what’s wrong? too much?”
if he’s honest, he doesn’t know why he did that—maybe it was instinct, something he did out of pure habit, or maybe it was too much, something he didn’t want you to see up close.
“nothin’ baby,” he mutters, grabbing one of your wrists and pressing a kiss to it. you’re so cute, so thoughtful and sweet. “c’mon, switch with me.”
you’re quick to move, knowing exactly what he wants as you go from his lap to the bed. you get on your knees, lowering your chest until your tits are flush against the mattress and your ass is in the air—consequently putting your messy pussy on display.
“atta fuckin’ girl,” he praises, kicking his sweats away and grabbing onto your hips—pulling you back just a little to define the arch he loves to see so much.
his heartbeat pulses in the tips of his fingers as he slides back into you, and he knows, he’s not going to last—still sensitive from his previous orgasm.
he starts to thrust, and it’s just like before—the unmistakable feeling of being consumed, both physically and mentally.
it starts at his feet, the kind of numbness that can be compared to television static. it travels up his legs, bypasses his cock, continues up his torso, and ceases at his neck.
“please kats, cum in me,” you slur, a mindless plea thrown over your shoulder—but one that almost incinerates katsuki right there.
and he’s glad you can’t see him right now, he’s positive he’s never looked more pathetic—head thrown back, eyes screwed shut, and brows knit together in such a way that it makes him look like he’s about to cry.
in all of this, he knows that the one thing able to ground him is still you—and so he pulls you up, tugs on your arms until your back is flush with his chest. his skin is sticky, hot—save for the cool metal of his necklace pressing between your shoulder blades.
“fuck princess,” he growls—rough, coarse, and right against the shell of your ear.
“‘m close katsuki, ‘m gonna cum,” you gasp, cunt fluttering around him at an even faster rate than earlier.
a strangled moan rips from the back of his throat, uncharacteristic, he knows—but he’s never felt this good, never loved the burn as much as he does right now.
his grip tightens to an almost unbearable level, one hand on your throat, the other splayed across your tummy. his breathing is an absolute mess, a string of breathy little pants against the crook of your neck. his heartbeat is everywhere—blaring in his ears, pounding in his chest, throbbing through his cock—and he cums.
he cums hard, face scrunching up as he feels you pulsing on his length, vision going white as he feels his warmth shoot out—it feels so fucking good.
you fall flat against the mattress, resuming your earlier position and snapping katsuki back to reality as you force him to slip out of you.
his eyes are glossed over as he looks down, and it feels like a lifetime passes as he stares at your cunt, waiting—but it comes, his cum, sticky and white as it leaks onto the sheets.
“fuck,” he’s barely audible, with an incredulous look on his face—bringing his index and middle finger up to spread your lips and coax more of himself out. nothing could be hotter, he’s damn sure of it.
satisfied, he flops down onto his back beside you, and he feels calm—like he’s comfortably walking down the streets of his brain as they continue to go up in flame—like he’s in control.
“well?” you say, curling up into yourself as you look at your big, strong, fucked out boyfriend.
“you’re fuckin’ perfect,” he hums, gaze never leaving the ceiling. “gonna be a perfect mom.”
“fucked you that good, huh?”
he turns his head to the side, what the fuck written all over his furrowed brows and scowl, because no—he fucked you, and you know it.
“shaddup,” he groans, playfully placing his palm over your face and pushing gently.
he sits up, leaning over the edge of the bed to grab that towel from earlier—he knew it’d come in handy later.
“hey,” you call out.
he peers over his shoulder at you, and you have definitely, never looked more beautiful.
“maybe even three?”
#izurou#bakugou x reader#bakugou katsuki x reader#bakugou smut#bnha x reader#bnha smut#bakugo katsuki x reader#mha x reader#no one knows how bad i wanted to make reader say “that was fire” as the last sentence#can u imagine lmfao
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Whiplash (1)
Pairing: Felix x Reader x Hyunjin
Genre: Street Racing, Gang, Friends to lovers
Word Count: 3.2k
“Y/N against Han!” Chan yells, trying to gather everyone around. You stared at Han, trying to scare him as you impatiently waited for Chan to tell you guys to start. This was always a thing at these parties, you had been the undefeated beer chugging champion for months and still everytime, someone dared to go up against you in hopes of gaining the title. But it never worked, so far no one was able to beat you.
“Good luck.” you hear from beside you. You turn to look, seeing Hyunjin and Felix, both standing there with a smile on their faces, smiles that melt your fucking heart. Felix sends you a little wink as you turn to face Han, making your heart flutter.
You were so fucking in love with both of them.
You had known Hyunjin and Felix for years. The three of you had met by chance, at a party just like this and you still weren't sure what caused it but the three of you became pretty inseparable very quickly. And over those years the three of you had become the best of friends. Friends who told each other everything, even the hard things. The three of you had your ups and downs throughout the years but there was nothing that you wouldn't do for each other.
Over the years, you had only ever seen two sides of Hyunjin and Felix. The first side was the sweet caring side that brought you flowers and ice cream to cheer you up when you had broken up with your piece of shit boyfriend.
And the second side of them was the terrifyingly angry side. They had both beat the shit out of your ex boyfriend when they found out he was cheating on you. Even though you had been friends for a long time, somewhere along the way you had fallen for both of them. Not by choice of course. You never wanted this to happen but somehow, somewhere the platonic love you had for them turned romantic. Those feelings however, were shoved deep down inside of you, and were never allowed to see the light of day. They made it so fucking hard for you to keep those feelings in check. Whenever you were around one or both of them, they were constantly touching you, holding onto you. It was like they needed to be near you and still, you continuously told yourself that you could never go there with either of them. Those things between you needed to stay purely platonic and you would just have to be okay with that.
But you weren't okay with it. You never showed your romantic love for them when you were around both or any mutual friends. Even when you watched women flirt with each of them, and them flirting back. The desperation you felt to be the one that they touched like that, or talked too like that. The best you could do was dream about it. You weren't about to put yourself or them in that position, you didn't want what you already had to be ruined. If you confessed to either and one didn't feel the same or both, there's no coming back from that. The three of you would never be the same. You didn't want to lose your best friends.
“Ready.” chan yells. “Set…” He smiles. “And go!”
You begin chugging one out of 4 beers in front of you, then the second, and the third. By the time you got to the fourth one, Han was just starting his third.
You could see Hyunjin and Felix out of the corner of your eye smiling and rooting for you to win, instead of their other friend. As you finished your last beer, you threw your cup on the floor before lifting your hands above your head to celebrate while you relished in the sound of everyone clapping for you and cheering you on.
Han walked away looking defeated while you took a shot that you didn't need. You were already drunk, but it helped when Hyunjin had walked over to you, a smile on his face as he picked you up and spun you around.
"You're amazing." He laughs, setting you down on the floor. You could feel the blush spreading across your face as he stared at you. Felix came over, pulling you out of Hyunjin's embrace and into his own. “That's my girl.” Felix smiles, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his eyes never leaving yours like the two of you were in a goddamn drama. You could feel your heart racing so hard while the liquor flowed through your body. your knees were weak. Out of nowhere, Han shoves in between you two, sticking his finger in your face.
"You." He hiccups. "I want a rematch." He finishes. You smile at the drunk man, already forgetting about the moments with Hyunjin and Felix.
"You wanna go again?” You laugh. “Are you sure you want to lose again?" You ask, heading back to the table. You watch as a drunk Chan and drunk Changbin try to fill more cups up with beer, laughing as they spill some all over the table.
"3, 2, 1." Everyone yells before you and Han have your rematch. You were already drunk, so you were moving a little slower than before but Han, he was a mess. He was trying not to gag as he finished his first beer, while you were already starting on your third. You knew you could take your time and sip it but you wanted to destroy him.
And you did.
"Don't take it too hard." You drunkenly slur, suddenly feeling dizzy. Your legs feel like they're about to give out on you as you tumble back. You brace yourself for the impact you knew was coming from the hard floor, but instead you were graced with the feeling of a hard chest and strong arms holding you up.
“Woah, there drunky.” You hear the extremely deep voice that makes your panties wet. Felix helps you up, standing steadily on your own two feet, his hands on your shoulders as he smiles at you. “Hyunjin.” He calls.
Oh god why?
“She's plastered.” Felix says, smiling at you again. Ugh you wanted to melt.
“Should one of us take you home?” Hyunjin asks.
“Yesssssss. You both take me home and to bed!” You giggle, stumbling towards the front door. Hyunjin and Felix walk after you, trying to help you not to bump into things on your way out of the house. Both men guide you towards Hyunjins car, where he gets into the driver's seat, while Felix helps you into the back seat. He was going to close the door until you pulled him back there with you. He lets out a laugh as he closes the door and you lay your head in his lap. Felix rests his hand on you as you quickly fall asleep. Hyunjin glares at Felix in the back with you as he drives off to your house.
You wake up the next morning with a throbbing head and your entire body being sore. You remembered doing the beer chugging challenge with Han, and then a shot but then your memory cuts out. You rub your eyes as you reach for your phone, and just as you thought messages from Hyunjin and Felix.
[From Hyunjin 3:08am] You might be a little sore in the morning. You tripped on a curb after getting out of the car and running once we got to your building. Felix and I tried to catch you before hand but fuck your quick.
[From Felix 3:10am] I don't care what Hyunjin says, I really did try to grab you before you walked into that door. I hope your head isn't too bad when you get up. Text me and I'll bring you food.
You read through the rest of them, and groan about what a pain in the ass you are when you're drunk. You glance at the time, it's still morning but fuck you could go for a burger right about now. You decided you were going to surprise the two with food, so you got up, took some advil and put on a cute summer dress, chugged a bunch of water before heading out.
You stood outside the house, kicking the door impatiently with food for 8 of you and it was getting heavy.
“I'm fucking coming.” You hear from inside. An angry looking Chan opens the door, until he sees you and then his expression softens.
“Oh shit, let me take that.” Chan says, quickly grabbing the food from your hands, and taking it inside. “Guys, Y/N brought food!” Chan yells. Suddenly seven men emerge from different rooms, coming into the kitchen, murmuring thank you's in between bites of food.
“I told you I'd bring you food.” Felix laughs as he takes a bite of his burger.
“Yeah, but I wanted to do something nice, since I'm assuming you and Hyunjin took care of me last night.” You sigh.
“That we did.” Hyunjin says, glancing at Felix before they both start snickering. Once you all were done eating you sat on the couch, Hyunjin right beside you while Felix sprawled out with his head in your lap. You had no fucking idea what movie was even playing on the screen right now. All your focus was on the fact that Felix had the need to reach up and touch your face constantly, while, you're assuming, accidentally brushing his arm against your nipple. Every single time. While Hyunjin sat there with his hand grasped tightly to your thigh, squeezing it every once in a while. At the end of the first movie Chan had gotten some kind of phone call, saying that the rest of them needed to leave to take care of something. So off went Chan, Seungmin, I.N, Lee Know, Han and Changbin, leaving the three of you alone.
You tried to ignore it, you tried to focus on the show but you were struggling and by the middle of the second movie you couldn't take it anymore.
“Move. Off.” You say, tapping Felix's head. He sits up, displeased that you were getting up. You quickly walk to the kitchen, trying to catch your breath as you squeeze your legs together, trying to sooth your throbbing clit. You lay your head and stomach onto the island in the kitchen, the coolness of the marble helping the heat you were currently feeling. You must have been too busy listening to the sound of your breathing with your eyes closed as you calmed yourself down, because you didn't hear the footsteps that came into the kitchen. You had no idea anyone was there until you felt a pair of hands slide onto your hips as someone stood behind you, rubbing their hands up and down your back. You opened your eyes and saw Hyunjin laying on the island beside you, his face so close to yours you could so easily kiss him at that moment.
“You left us so you could be in here?” Felix asks, gliding his hands through your hair.
“It's cold here.” You sigh. “I was hot in the living room.”
“We could have helped you cool off.” Hyunjin smiles. You squeeze your eyes shut, you were trying to calm yourself down not get even more worked up.
“I have to go.” You announce, standing up.
“Are you going to come to the club tonight?” Felix asks as you grab your purse. “Yup, I will be there. Gonna go get ready.” You say, avoiding more eye contact.
“Well we can come help you.” Hyunjin offers.
“Nope. See you later.” You yell, slamming the door behind you.
**
A few hours later you're sitting on your bed, just wearing a bra and panties as you let your makeup dry while you're on the phone with your best, and only close girlfriend.
“Seulgi.” You whine. “I can't do it. I'm going to end up jumping them both.”
“Don't do that. Remember what you told me. What if they don't reciprocate your feelings?” She says.
“Okay yeah, whatever. But what if they do?” You say. You knew you were being delusional, but sometimes the way they were with you made you wonder.
“I mean you could try.” She laughs.
“You're supposed to stop me from this shit. Are you sure you can't come tonight?” You sigh.
“I've got a date, and she's fucking hot. I cannot miss it.” Seulgi says.
You groan loudly. “Maybe I should just be a lesbian? Is it easier?”
“Well I've always been one so I dunno, but trust me babe, you'd get chewed up and spit out if you switched sides.” She laughs, loudly. You roll your eyes at her glancing at the time. It was almost 9:30pm and you needed to finish getting ready.
“Shit.” You groan. “Okay, I gotta go. I'll talk to you later. Have fun tonight!” You finish before hanging up the phone. As soon as you're off the phone, you put on some music and start dancing around your room as you fix your hair. You pull out a few potential outfits from your drawers, throwing them on the bed as you sing along to your playlist. As you're dancing as you get yourself into the little black dress you had decided to wear. You slip on your shoes, grabbing your purse and taking one last look at yourself in the mirror before you head out, knowing that Felix and Hyunjin are both outside waiting in the car for you. It seemed to be a bit of an unwritten rule that whenever you were going out with them, they always showed up to your apartment at 10pm on the dot. They did it once and you had never really spoken about It after that but they just continued to do so, not that you were complaining.
The three of you get to the club, and head for the bar. You each take a few shots before Hyunjin and Felix are both dragged out to the dance floor. You knew the girl who grabbed Hyunjin, she was his on and off again fuck buddy on occasion, but the one who took Felix was a stranger. You didn't like it. You didn't like that Felix was dancing with the girl and you sure didn't like that bitch with Hyunjin. She always muttered shit about you under her breath, glared at you and acted as if she was so much better than you. But you put up with it because if Hyunjin was happy then you tried to be happy for him even if it broke you a little each time.
“Hey beautiful.” You hear from behind you. “Can I buy you a drink?” You turn to look, seeing a very attractive man standing there. You glance at the two men dancing, and realize they were in their own worlds so why shouldn't you be?
“I'd love a shot.” You smile as you pat the seat next to you. He sat down and motioned to the bartender for four shots.
“Im simon.” He grins, holding out his hand.
“Y/N.” You reply, gently shaking his hand.
“So what's a girl like you doing over here all by yourself?” He asks. You roll your eyes before laughing.
“What a cliche line.” You giggle, taking your second shot. “My friends were dragged away to the dance floor.” You say motioning behind you. “My other friends are around here somewhere though.”
“Would you like to dance?” He asks.
You nod your head yes, he slides his second shot towards you, motioning for you to take it. You do without question and follow Simon to the dance floor. He stands behind you, his hands on your hips as you get used to the beat and rhythm of the song. It doesn't take you long to feel the music flowing through you as you grind your ass into his crotch. You look around the dance floor, seeing Hyunjin and Felix's eyes focused on you and what you were doing. Your drinks had kicked in full force, making you feel bolder than you should be and you took it up a notch. You danced even more provocatively on Simon, making sure that both men saw you and what you were doing. While you were dancing on him, Simon continued to hand you shot after shot, enjoying the more drunk you got, the sluttier you got until you couldn't take anymore. You'd been dancing for well over an hour, with Hyunjin and Felix continuously watching you while also trying to pay attention to the ones they were with. After 15 minutes, they went and sat in a booth, pretending to listen to what the girls were saying but their eyes were almost always on you. Simon turned you around, too quickly and you stumbled. He looks down at you laughing, wrapping his arm around your waist.
“Why don't I take you back to my place?” He asks, smiling at you.
“Okay!” You giggle. Your inhibition was way too low. Simon begins to guide you off the dance floor, heading towards the front doors. You're stumbling all over the place as you try to walk with him. “Come on.” He urges, trying to pull you forward with him.
“Hey.” You hear just as you step out into the fresh air. You feel two hands grab onto your arm, stopping Simon from moving any further.
“Can I help you?” He asks. You lift your head up to see your two favorite men standing there with stone cold faces as they glare at Simon.
“She's not leaving with you.” Hyunjin deadpans. He reaches over grabbing you from Simon's grasp and pulling you into him and Felix, who wraps his arm around your waist.
“Who do.. are you to say who I can go home with!? Huh!?” You ask, staring at both of them. “Maybe I.” You hiccup. “Maybe I need to get off too.. cause of you two!” You yell.
You hadn't noticed Simon take off while you were yelling.
“Because of us?” Felix smiles. “what'd we do?” he asks, cocking his head to the side.
“Don't you know what you do to me?” You sigh. “You make it so hard to be platonic.” You scoff. “The things I wanna do to the two of you are not platonic.” You giggle, as you start wandering off. Both men quickly grab a hand each, both smirking as they guide you towards the car to take you home to put you to bed. They couldn't wait for you to wake up tomorrow.
As they're heading towards your apartment, Hyunjin gets a call.
“Yeah Chan?” He answers. “Tonight? Let me ask him.”
“There's a race tonight. $150k for grand prize.” He tells Felix. They both glance back at your sleeping frame, before back at each other. Felix nods to Hyunjin. “Yeah we'll go. Just gonna drop Y/N off at the house instead and then we'll be there. Text me the address.” He finishes, hanging up the call.
Felix heads back to the group's house instead of yours, carrying you inside before tucking you into Felix's bed. They quietly close the door, heading out to the address Chan texted, hoping that you didn't hear any of that conversation. You didn't know what they did, and they wanted to keep it that way, it was the best way that they could protect what was most important to them.
You.
#stray kids#lee felix#hwang hyunjin#felix smut#hyunjin smut#stray kids smut#kpop fanfic#kpop writing#kpop scenarios#kpop imagines#kpop icons#skz#skz writing#skz fanfic#skz smut
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i took a nap in the woods.
The Twisted Ones starters.
Flaire’s brow furrowed before he opened his mouth to try and respond only to fall short after a moment and close it. That was something of a new one to him. Give him a moment, he takes a second when he’s caught off guard. Opening his mouth again he finally finds the right response. “Do you mean on a branch or in a cave or something? Because one seems significantly less comfortable than the other.”
#ofthcvoid#words of light and faith (ic)#hope and fire spread just as fast (main flaire verse)#bonfires start with a spark (ask meme)
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Can i request princess treatment from enhypen ❤️😭
princess charm school
pairing: enhypen x gn!reader
synopsis: in which enhypen are enrolled and on the honour list at princess charm school.
warnings: established relationship, endearments, swearing, cringe cringe, fluff, but i'm so soft for all of them 😭, proofread-ish
library: enhypen bookshelf
author's note: i'm not sure when by the princess treatment kinda got mixed in with dating headcannons. but still! hope this was to your likingggg ♡︎ thank you so much for requesting!
heeseung
there's two sides of princess treatment: the emotional part of it and the royalty part of it. heeseung takes great pleasure in putting extra effort in the latter. he's the extra mile type of guy when it comes to princess treatment.
he takes the royalty part so seriously. like that's his job. what else is supposed to do?
heeseung takes you out shopping, more than happy to sit down to watch you try on clothes. he really gets into it, choosing what clothes he thinks you'll look good in.
if he even catching an inkling that you're having somewhat of a bad day, best believe when you return home, a trail of fresh rose petals lie from your front door and lead you to the bathroom, where you find heeseung lighting some of your favourite candles.
you'd raise a brow, "hee, what's going the occasion? the petals, these candles... is that our record player... in the bathroom?"
heeseung would simply smile. "i thought you sounded sad over the phone so i ran you a bath," he said nonchalantly, shrugging as if this required no effort.
you'd also be leaving a dinner party of a close friend's. both of you and heeseung decided to call it a night but got mildly distracted when the thought of late night ice cream.
the closest ice cream store? a twenty minute walk away. an uber would've made it a mere seven minutes.
but you and heeseung were convinced it was more romantic to walk. so were you going to walk those twelve thousand seconds just to fulfil your craving? yes.
about ten minutes into your journey, you found your feet beginning to ache. you couldn't pinpoint the origin of the pain, possibly your new shoes that you haven't broken in yet or the fact you and heeseung danced for way too long.
heeseung, who was walking next to you, hand intertwined with yours, raised a brow when he felt your head slump on his shoulder. "what's wrong, baby?" he asked, mild concern spreading throughout his voice as you both came to a stop in the empty street.
"my feet hurt, hee. i think i'm getting a blister on the back of my ankle," you sighed, rotating your foot, wincing at the brush of your shoe against your pained skin.
heeseung pursed his lips, barely thinking for a second when he suddenly lifted you up.
a yelp left your lips. "heeseung! what are you doing?!" you shrieked, feet waddling in the air while his arms were tucked under your waist and knees.
"i'm carrying you to the ice cream store. can't have your feet hurting any more, can we?" he said with the most casual tone you had ever heard in your life.
"heeseung," you hissed out, cheeks burning in the dark. "let me down! this is so embarrassing!" you whispered, hitting his back lightly.
heeseung shook his head. "there's no one even here. now stop worrying and relax," he scolded you, laughing lightly at your reaction.
you quickly realised that any attempt of yours to get out of this was futile. sighing, you tried to calm your body despite your keen awareness of heeseung's warm arms holding you tightly to him.
you hung your hands around his neck, staring at his face quietly. heeseung turned slightly, taking a glance at you. "what's going on in that pretty head of yours?"
you smiled, shaking your head in dismissal. you leaned forward, pressing a long kiss to his cheek. "thank you," you said with every ounce of earnestly you had, "i love you, hee."
heeseung smiled in response, thankful that night was so dark, disguising his flustered cheeks. "i love you, sweetheart. more than you'll ever know."
jongseong
the epitome of princess treatment. it's not just secondhand nature to jay. it's innate. genetic, if you will.
before you even began dating, jay was always giving you princess treatment. he's so attentive to everything you do.
before you realised he liked you, you were always catching jay's eyes as he gripped onto to every word that fell from those pretty lips of yours as if your word was his command (it most definitely is). whenever he was making a decision, jay would ask for your opinion, texting you with every passing second if he couldn't be in front of you.
princess treatment, when possible, should be healthy and balanced. but jay can't follow through. not when you're right in front of him.
there's a lot of talk about jay and his black card. not to make it a personality trait, for he is so much more, but when it comes to you, no expense is too big or too little. reminiscent of svt's woozi giving his black card for vernon to buy bubbles, jay would give be taking it out as if he was doing god's work by doing so.
oh you need your nails done? jay's got it.
hair appointment? done.
also, jay thinks 50/50 can go to hell. he is paying for the both of you and that's final. he won't even let you utter a syllable, telling the waiter in advance to take his card.
domestically, jay likes to spoil you by cooking for you, especially if you can't cook to save your life, doing the laundry, making you breakfast before you wake up, taking your chair out for you to sit even if it's just the two of you.
"jay... let me help you," you whined, sitting at the kitchen table and watching him prepare your picnic basket for your outing this morning.
jay hummed, finishing putting his freshly made fruit salad in a container. "you're already helping me, sweetheart. just looking at you makes me feel happy and at ease."
you slumped, pouting as you rested your cheeks on your arm. jay smiled in amusement, his heart doing small little flips. he leaned in across the table, placing a quick peck on your nose. "fine," he relented. "you can help me by taste testing the fruit salad."
you blinked blankly at him before breaking out into a small laugh. "i don't know, jay... that's a really difficult job you got there," you teased.
jay narrowed his eyes at your sarcasm. "keep it up and see how long you have this job for, babe."
you raised your hands in your defence. "whoa... take a chill pill, mister. you're in luck. i happen to be a certified taste tester."
"really?" jay humoured, hands resting on the table as he looked at you with raised brows. "certified by who?"
"the best, most handsome, sweetest, loveliest boyfriend ever?" you suggested, batting your eyelashes coyly.
jay couldn't even suppress the wide smile from breaking out. he nodded in amusement, reaching out to grab your hand. "okay, okay. come on, my certified lover. i do actually need you to taste it."
jaeyun
everything this man does revolves around you.
it's a historical fact.
look it up.
jake is pretty sure he lives for you... that he breathes for you. entirely wrapped up in the belief that you were made for him and he was made for you. in short, a simpleton if you've ever seen one.
his favourite things consist of helping you put your shoes on, especially when you're getting ready for something formal, kissing you at any given time, and constantly holding your hand.
you'll be going to put your shoes on and jake will quickly shove your hands away. "no let me." and as he does them, he'll leave small kisses on your knees or the side of your leg, just as a reminder that he loves you... like a lot.
you could also be in middle of talking to him and jake will suddenly interrupt you by kissing you. when you look at him with furrowed brows and flustered cheeks, he goes: "just because."
you're trying to kill someone... just because?????
jake is also a flower man. it's flower galore up in here. there doesn't need to be an occasion. he just likes giving you flowers. another just because.
you just closed the door to your car and you turned to jake to ask a question, but instead you're greeted with a bouquet of colours. "jake, what the– when did you get those?"
"before we met today. do you like them, baby? they're honeysuckles!"
the eager boba eyes peering at you while he pushes the bouquet towards make you fold an instant. you give him a warm smile, taking them from his hands. "i love them, jake. thank you so much."
later that day you go home and read what honeysuckles symbolise: everlasting love, true happiness, and sweetness and affection.
you smiled so hard that night that your cheeks were hurting the next day.
jake is also very dramatic. if you didn't know before, you know now.
you were both out for a morning walk after being cooped up in the house due to the harsh rain. it was a lot sunnier and brighter this morning, even if the paths were still stained with the rain, it screamed for a walk.
you and jake were both chitchatting, admiring the nature as you walked, when suddenly he brought out his hand over your waist, stopping you. "WAIT!"
now you're standing here baffled, eyes wide with confusion and slight fear because why the fuck is this man screaming so early in the morning? "holy shit– what? what happened, jake?"
jake's brown eyes averted to the path and then you. "there's a puddle."
hold up.
what?
you blinked blankly at him. an awkward laugh slipped past your mouth. "i– okay? and?"
jake sucked in a sharp breath, retracting his hand from your waist and instead holding it out to you. "give me your hand."
you raised a brow, slowly giving him your hand without thinking too much. you watched as jake leaped over the puddle and waited for you to carefully walk over it with your hand in his.
you gave him an incredulous look which only made him give you an impatient one in return. sighing, you stretched out your leg, just avoiding the puddle as jake pulled you into him.
jake wrapped his arms around your waist. "see? you're all dry. isn't that better?" he whispered, briefly kissing your forehead.
you found it difficult to bite back the smile eating away at you. you shook your head, laughing quietly to yourself. "you're a cheeseball, jake. you know that?"
jake grinned at your words, hands tightening around you. "your cheeseball, you mean."
you blinked, peering at him through your lashes. "yes," you agreed. "my cheeseball."
am i... delusional? 🤭🤧 (don't answer that!)
sunghoon
sunghoon's princess treatment is for you and only you. only you see it and only you get to experience it.
whenever, it's just the two of you, the side of sunghoon you see is almost unbelievable. alone in an elevator with all the space in the world, yet sunghoon can only cling to you, hand constantly around your waist. or when you're in the car, his hand rests on your leg because it's only secondhand nature.
sunghoon, however, does have his public moments. he always has an umbrella just in case and it's big enough for the both of you. but every time it suddenly starts to pour down and sunghoon opens the umbrella, he only puts it on you. he doesn't really care if he's soaked in rain one day and sick the next, as long as you're fine and dry, he's a happy guy.
to be honest, sunghoon isn't that talkative of a guy. but for you, if you can't say something or order something, he'll hundred percent do it for you. or if someone says something bad or upsetting, trust, sunghoon is going to be on their ass about it: ice cold glare and a whole lot of things to suddenly say.
sunghoon's favourite form of princess treatment, however, is helping you get ready in the morning. like honestly, you don't need it. you seem to have everything sorted. but sunghoon can't help it. the urge to help you is a need not a want.
you and sunghoon would both wake up, particularly unbothered by everything. after ten minutes of you staring at each other and smiling like idiots, you decide to get out and take a shower. by the time you finish, sunghoon is still lounging in bed, only coming out of the sheets when you were standing in front of your mirror in your selected clothes for the day.
as he does every morning, sunghoon would take off the towel wrapped around your head and put it aside. he'd comb your hair (under the insistence that it was better than brushing your hair), gently taking out any knots before helping you blow dry it.
amongst all of this, you're just smiling at sunghoon through the mirror. he doesn't really see you since he's so focused on helping you get ready.
to be honest, even though he has a younger sister, he didn't really learn anything from her when it came to hairstyles. but this cutie decided to spend his time trying out different hairstyles. he tried them on his sister and you, whenever he had the time. so every morning, sunghoon would ask you what you wanted and he'd be more than happy to serve.
if you thought it ended here... well, you're wrong.
makeup... whether you wanted to go all out or just put some lipbalm on, sunghoon would put himself in harms way just to do it. he loves everything about it. the intimacy, the proximity, your reaction, how pretty you look afterwards... everything.
needless to say, you love being sunghoon's princess.
seonwoo
listen... everyone and their mother knows about seonwoo's princess aka you.
why?
his personal instagram account was practically a fanstagram of you. seonwoo spent a lot of time, posting about you, you and him, and then you again.
for most of your time together, you expect it to be documented in some shape or form. seonwoo liked to take mirror selfies with you or post pictures of you on your dates together. even if your face wasn't in it, he liked to post it.
seonwoo's favourite, however? candid photos.
he can't verbally express how much he loves them. so seonwoo just posts a bunch instead. he's just in awe. because how do you look so pretty all the time? why do you make him suffer in such a sweetly evil way?
seonwoo also throws all of his skepticism and doubt away when he's with you. he will do anything for you and try anything. he always always lets you pick what to watch. he doesn't care what it is as long as you're happy.
another flower guy. but instead, he'd rather border on getting yelled at by a stranger for picking flowers from their garden rather than just going to a florist. seonwoo, by that point, decided to just pick up gardening as a hobby. it's not the cleanest hobby in the world which freaks him out time to time but it's totally worth it in the end when he sees your smile.
seonwoo also never ever ever lets you carry your own bag. he'll carry your for you or he'll put your stuff in his own bag. he doesn't want you to strain yourself, yk? 🤗
another guy who's a tad bit dramatic. if seonwoo's giving you princess treatment, he is going to be so fucking adamant about it.
for example, you're in the car. you and seonwoo both decided you wanted to go grocery shopping because you're cupboards and fridge were looking a bit empty.
upon arriving to the supermarket, you unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to open the door but seonwoo literally slapped your hand away from the handle.
"what the heck, seonwoo?!" you turned to him with the most baffled expression because seonwoo isn't there anymore. instead, he's fucking running outside of the car to get to your side and open the door for you.
seonwoo would beam down at you as he opened the door, lowkey out of breath from sprinting from one side to another.
you blinked blankly, a small smile creeping onto your face. "you're so whipped," you teased, moving your legs to get out the car,
seonwoo rolled his eyes, grabbing your hand as you got out of the car. closing the car door, he moved his hand, intertwining your fingers together. "you're the one smiling like a kid who woke up on their birthday," he retorted, his own smile teetering on his face.
you pressed your lips together while seonwoo gave you a pointed look, knowing he had caught you. you sighed, resting your head on his shoulder as you walked into the store. "we aren't getting mint chocolate ice cream," you casually said.
seonwoo gaped at you, eyes wide. "okay, okay. i take it back. i'm sorry. you were right," he conceded, pressing a kiss to your cheek. he whispered, "i am so whipped."
jungwon
another epitome of princess treatment guy.
he just likes you so much... how can he not treat you so well?
if jungwon catches you staring at something you like for a while when you both shop together, he'll probably buy it for you when he uses going to the bathroom as an excuse to do so. he enjoys your reaction when you come home from the trip and finish washing up to find the item resting on your bed or dresser.
"what the? wonnie," you gasped, turning your head to the culprit. "how did you know?" you jutted your lip, eyes turning soft at the grinning boy.
jungwon walked towards you, pressing a kiss on your shoulder while his hands naturally found their place around your waist. his chin nestled into your collarbone while he spoke. "you looked like you wanted it, that all."
you were practically speechless. "b-but, that didn't you mean you had to buy it," you said, in complete awe of the kindness of jungwon's heart. you sighed, turning your head to bring him into a long kiss.
unknown fact but acts of service should be jungwon's middle name. if you had any trouble at all with anything, he'd do it for you. freshly done nails and dishes? he had them. the lid on your jam jar sealed a bit too tight?
got a sweet tooth at ten in the evening? jungwon would either take you out or do what he thinks is the best idea: bake you a fresh batch of whatever you wanted. you were the only reason he stocked up on so many ingredients. from brownies and cupcakes to ugly looking macaroons and meringues... anything for you.
another thing jungwon often did was the whole shoe thing. but with a slight change and an addition to go along with it.
you had both just attended a family wedding. you were all having a great time, dancing, chatting, taking pictures, devouring the wedding menu... but all this socialisation took energy and you're social battery was on the brink of dying out.
you were seated at your allocated table when jungwon brought you a glass of water and sat next to you. you gave him a small smile, taking a big gulp of the water.
jungwon raised a brow after eyeing your shoes next to your chair. "sucky shoes?" he guessed.
you sighed, resting your chin in your hand. "sucky shoes," you confirmed by repeating his words. "they're a pain my ass," you mumbled.
jungwon frowned at your misery, soon grabbing your feet to rest them on his lap, capturing your attention. "jungwon, what are you doing?"
"just relax," jungwon whispered softly, bringing his fingers to slowly rub soothing circles into your ankles and feet. you couldn't believe it. he was massaging your feet for you.
you pouted, eyes soft once again. "wonnie," you murmured, unable to follow up with anymore words.
he only smiled gently, continuing. "does that feel better?" jungwon queried after a couple of minutes. you wordlessly nodded, sporting the most thankful expression you could muster for your voice had failed you.
you mended your brows together when you watched jungwon take off his shoes and begin to put them onto your feet. "jungwon-ah, yah, what are you doing? we have to go back out soon." you asked, feeling panicked all of a sudden.
"it's okay," jungwon reassured, "you need shoes that don't suck. besides, i still have socks," he said, wiggling his foot.
your mouth fell open. how on earth did you get so lucky? "jungwon," you called out, making him hum in response as he just finished doing the last shoes. "marry me?" you asked softly.
jungwon blinked, a wide smile sprawling on to his face, dimples popping right out at you. "of course," he responded, "but give me some time and i'll ask you instead, hmm?"
you grinned at his words, nodding. for the rest of the evening, jungwon stood next to you, in his socks, more than happy. as the event came to a close and everyone began to leave, you'd walk out, still in his shoes, as jungwon tangled his fingers with yours, carrying your shoes in the other hand.
👑 -> jungwon 🤧
riki
riki is the definition of princess treatment in combination with young love. you don't know it because he's kind of embarrassed to tell you, but he's always keeping an eye out for you.
riki's already got the basic things covered: opening the door for you at all times, listening to your words with the greatest attention known to mankind, more than willing to hold all the clothes you gathered in the store, covering all the edges of objects so you didn't hurt yourself.
but then there were the moments that made your heart flutter to the point where the both of you had to consider whether you were malfunctioning or not.
you were both walking around town when he'd suddenly stop you. "what's wrong?" you asked.
but riki said nothing. instead he just bent down to the floor after moving in front of you and began tying your shoelaces.
"riki-ah," you chuckled, "you could've told me."
riki shrugged, tying a tight knot. "you should make tight knots," he told you.
"otherwise i'll trip, i know," you teased.
riki shook his head, standing back up, making you furrow your brows. "i can't have you falling for anyone else."
it was so stupid how riki could say the most heart-stopping things so casually. it was infuriating yet it made you flush with embarrassment instead.
but that moment had set in stone that riki always did your laces up when they came undone. something about making sure you were only falling for him.
another day, you were both eating at a cafe. you had ordered some new things to try and you were quite excited, stuffing your face with food. you were about to get riki to try yours when you spotted the frown on his face.
you swallowed your bite, turning your head to him. "riki? what happened? do you not like your food?"
riki remained quite, hand stretching out to pull your chair closer to him. your eyes widened at the sudden proximity. a smile settled down on his face. "that's better."
no because what the fuck? how on earth were you supposed survive this?
and then there was the time it was raining. like pure good rain. not a shower or some light little pelts. rain.
riki isn't as prepared as the others. an umbrella? newsflash! no one is carrying an umbrella all the time. but what riki did have was his cherished leather jacket.
so as the rain pelted down, drenching the both of you and the smell of the earthy hugged you dearly, riki took off of his jacket, raising his arms to cover your head as you both ran together, trying to reach some shade.
"riki!" you squealed, feeling the cold rain stick to your skin. "put it on yourself! you're going to get sick," you scolded.
riki laughed softly, running a hand through his wet hair. he peered down at you, holding the most gentle look in his brown eyes. "it's okay. i just don't want you to get sick."
you both slowed down your run to find any inch of shade. you stared at him while he continued to hold his jacket over your head.
"what?" riki queried, chest rising up and down as the rain continued to trickle down his body.
you stretched out your hands, hanging them around his neck as you pulled him closer to you. you reached up on the tips of your toe and pressed a kiss to his cheek, feeling the coldness of your skin melt against his warmth.
you pulled away while riki looked at you with an unreadable expression. you laughed gently. "nothing," you shrugged, hand reaching out to grab his hand. "now come on! we need to get out of the rain!"
riki blinked blankly, watching you take him with you. he thought his heart stopped.
riki thinks knows that he's entirely in love with you.
© maeumi-jng | do not copy, post (repost is fine!) or translate anywhere else! thank you ♡︎ requests here!
#maeumi-jng#maeumi jng’s library — enhypen bookshelf ♡︎#enhypen imagines#enhypen x reader#jungwon x reader#enhypen reactions#heeseung x reader#jake x reader#jay x reader#sunghoon x reader#sunoo x reader#riki x reader#niki x reader#enhypen headcannons
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