#i don’t think this has been done before???

[whytheylosttheirminds]

I Remember Everything - Rafe Cameron (Chapter 2)

Summary: You left the island two years ago, leaving the love of your life a shattered man in your wake. Now, when you return, you find the sweet boy you once loved has transformed into a monster of a man. How can you detangle the real Rafe from the terrible things he's done?

Timeline: begins toward the end of obx season 3 and is mostly canon.

Content: this story contains sexual content, alcohol and drug abuse, and brief mentions of violence. All chapters are 18+, minors do not interact!

(Prologue and Chapter 1)

You tried to close the door quietly behind you, wincing everytime it creaked, but as you tiptoed through the foyer into the living room you quickly realized your stealth was of no use. Your mother sat in her chair in the corner of the room, flipping the page on whatever cheesy self-help book she was worshiping today. She looked up at you and then to the oversized clock on the wall pointedly.

“Really? Sitting up under a single lamp light?” You rolled your eyes. “What are you gonna say next, ‘where have you been young lady?’”

“Actually, I was just going to ask if you had a good night,” she said in her all-too-familiar-guilt-trip tone. “But since I’m apparently such a stereotype, maybe I should ask where you’ve been. I’ll be the overbearing mother you’ve made up in your head.”

You just sighed. “I’m not doing this with you, goodnight mom.”

“Don’t forget we’re having dinner at the island club tomorrow night!” She called after you. “Just you, me, and Chip.”

You winced. “I don’t know if the Island Club is really my vibe anymore, mom.”

“Y/N,” your mother said in warning. “The other 51 weeks of the year, you are welcome to walk around like you’re better than all of us. But this week is my week and I want to have dinner at the Island Club with my daughter and my fiancé.”

In your twenty years on earth, you’d had approximately one million fights with your mother. You were wise enough by now to know which ones you were going to lose.

You sighed in defeat, “Alright mom, I’ll be there.”

Like she said, it was just one week and then you could get the hell out of here. Thinking of the night you just had with a pang of sadness, you thought, this time maybe for good.

Two Years Ago…

“Happy birthday, baby,” Rafe said, beaming.

“Rafe what did you do?” You asked.

“Got you something,” he shrugged, his casual tone betrayed by the big, bright smile on his face, his dimples on full display. He looked so excited it made your heart swell.

“You got me a car?” You said in disbelief.

“Not just a car, your dream car!” He extended his long arms, displaying the vehicle like a Price-is-Right model.

“You actually bought me a car?” You said quietly, shaking your head in awe.

“Do you like it?” He asked, now wringing his hands nervously. His sudden timidness made you weak, wanting to hold him in his vulnerability.

“Baby,” you said quietly before suddenly breaking out in a run toward him, leaping into his arms. Even in his surprise, he caught you, like he always did. 

You tucked your head into the crook of his neck as your arms and legs wrapped around him. He held you back so tightly, you thought he might never let go. 

“I love it,” you mumbled into his skin. “You have no idea.”

He pulled his head back to get a look at you. You had tears in your eyes as you beamed back at him.

“I love you,” you said before dropping a gentle kiss to his lips.

“You have no idea,” he said, before kissing you back harder. 

The kiss turned more passionate as he started walking the two of you toward the car, removing one hand from you to open the door to the back seat. He lowered you in slowly, both of you laughing into the kiss. You scooted backward to the other side of the back seat, pulling your legs to your chest to make room for him. For a moment, he just stood in the open door, taking you in. You giggled nervously under his hungry gaze.

“You gonna join me?” You asked, taunting him with the low, sexy voice you knew made him crazy.

“Just wanna look at you for a sec,” he explained. “Wanna remember.”

You leaned forward and started to crawl towards him, hands and knees sinking into the soft leather seat. 

“You have your whole life to look at me, baby,” you assured him. 

Once you were close enough to him, you stretched your neck forward and kissed him again, grabbing his shirt collar and pulling him into the car with you. He gladly obliged and shut the door behind him. Once he was settled, you threw your leg over him and climbed in his lap, arms outstretched past either side of his head to hold onto the seat back behind him. 

“You're not gonna hit the road in the middle of the night and leave me here now that you’ve got your own ride?” He asked, close enough to your lips that you could feel his breath sweep across them as he talked.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you promised. “Unless you’re in the seat right next to me.”

You leaned in to kiss him again, but he pulled back before your lips met. You furrowed your brows in confusion.

“I got you another gift,” Rafe said.

“Rafe,” you said, “you already got me a car. I don't know what could possibly top that.”

Removing one of his hands from your hips, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a little black box.

“Open it and find out,” he held the box out to you.

With wide eyes, you took what was clearly a jewelry box from him and opened it slowly. Rafe reached up to turn on the car light so you could better see what was inside. It was a dainty gold ring, twisting around itself to make a small knot right in the middle. It was simple, but so beautiful.

“It’s a promise ring,” he explained.

You watched him watching you, realizing he was nervous, afraid you were about to reject his gesture. You could tell by the look on his face that he had more he was struggling to say, so you silently reached out your hand and placed it on his cheek, letting him know you were listening, that he was safe.

He nuzzled his head into your soft hand and closed his eyes for a moment to gather his thoughts. After a moment, he opened them into yours and took a deep breath.

“You are…everything,” he said, eyebrows knit together in sincerity. As if he could somehow look at you hard enough to make you understand. “I don’t care what our parents say, or what all the people on this fucking island say, you are it for me, y/n. I will love you forever. Even if they cut us off, if we have no money and have to live out of the back of this car, I don’t care, I want you. Forever.”

He searched your face for any sign that you’d reject him, or laugh at his earnest desperation. You’d never treated him like that before, but he had been raised to believe that vulnerability was weakness, and even with all the loyalty you’ve shown him, he couldn’t fight the thought that when he told you what he was really feeling, you’d shoot him down.

Instead, you simply said, “Well, am I going to have to put it on myself?”

He laughed, relief spreading through his chest. He took the box from you and removed the ring, slipping it on your left ring finger before placing a kiss over it.

You grabbed his face with both hands and looked at him hard, praying he’d believe you when you swore, “I will love you forever, Rafe Cameron.”

His lower lip flinched slightly as he fought back the tears he could feel springing up. He kissed you quick, hoping you didn’t notice. You did notice, but you kissed him back to take his mind off of it, knowing how much he hates crying in front of people. You slid your hands back to tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging gently in appreciation as he moved his lips to your neck. 

“Don’t leave any marks,” you whined. “My mom…”

“You’re 18 now, baby, she can’t do shit,” he mumbled before going back to sucking on the tender spot at the base of your neck. 

“Yeah, except stop feeding me and kick me out of the house,” you protested, though not exactly pushing him away.

“Like I said, we’ll just live in this car,” he joked. 

“Or,” you said, pulling back from him to separate his lips from your skin before it could change color, “you could leave your mark somewhere she can’t see.”

With those words, you lifted your shirt over your head. Rafe watched hungrily, your words and movements making him grow harder than he already was. You smirked as you pressed down on him, making him hiss. Eyes locked to his, you reached back to unclasped your bra, letting the straps slide away as you revealed yourself to him slowly.

“Fuck,” he whispered as he took you in. He’d seen you naked countless times now, but the way he always looked at you like it was the very first time was the hottest thing in the world to you. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” With those words, he sunk his head down and started pressing gentle kisses to the top of your breasts. 

“I love when you talk to me like that, baby,” you gasp and arch your back as he captures the sensitive skin just above your nipple between his lips and starts sucking, taking you up on your suggestion to mark you somewhere no one will see. 

 You grab the back of his neck for stability, lightly letting your painted nails sink into his skin, the blissful pain of it making his hips buck up into yours. You moan as his length presses perfectly against your clit. You’re so wet you wonder if it's soaked through to his jeans yet.

“You like this?” He asked before releasing his lips and sinking into a spot on your other breast to add to the masterpiece he was leaving on your skin.

“I love it,” You answered.

“It’s your day, baby, just wanna make you feel good,” he told you.

“You always make me feel good,” you whimpered as you continued to writhe on him.

He pulled his mouth from you suddenly and moved his hands to your ass, holding you up so you couldn’t push down on him anymore. You pouted slightly, and he smirked at your neediness. 

“Today’s all about you,” he said. He moved you off of him and laid you down on the seat, kneeling so he could hover over you. He caged you in with an arm at either side of your head. You twisted your neck to look at his arm, admiring the veins that ran up the side, committing the sight to memory. You loved everything about your boyfriend’s body, but something about his arms really drove you wild. Impulsively, you leaned over and placed a kiss on the inside of his forearm, loving how soft his skin was. 

The gentleness of the moment made his skin break out in goosebumps and he looked down at you with hearts in his eyes. The only thing in the world he wanted at that moment was to make you feel how in love with you he is, so he lowered himself between your legs and got to work on your third gift of the day.

Now…

Rafe had two meetings today to sell some of the melted gold, both of which went exactly how he’d hoped. He didn’t understand how the high from the sale could wear off so quickly. So, like most nights, he found himself at the Island Club bar, three bourbons deep. He chuckled to himself, shaking his head at the conversation he just had with Topper about Sarah not answering his calls. 

“What a cuck,” he said to himself under his breath. 

Little did he know that just a few yards away, inside the club dining room, the girl he used to regularly ditch all of his friends for was sitting down to dinner.

You liked Chip just fine, he was a deputy at the sheriff’s department and though you had never been a huge fan of cops, he seemed to genuinely care about helping people. He made your mom happy, and she appears to have worked through some of the anxiety issues she had in your teens, which you were grateful for.

Even though you were tucked in a dark corner of the Island Club dining room, you and your mother still clocked all of the stares from nosy neighbors, wine moms, and kids you grew up with. It was like an Elvis sighting, after the wildfire of rumors that had engulfed the island after your disappearance two years ago. Chip, however, seemed to be none the wiser to your storied past. You didn’t know if your mom had told him all that had happened, and you kind of hoped she wouldn’t. He seemed like a simple guy with a simple view of the world, and you’d appreciate it if your mom would let him stay that way.

Chip was telling a story about one of his coworkers getting their arm stuck in the vending machine, when a commotion from outside the restaurant cut him off.

“I pay just as much as all of you assholes!” A man’s voice bellowed through the open windows.

Your heart froze and you closed your eyes, recognizing the voice immediately. When you looked up, you caught your mother’s glare, she had apparently placed the voice, too. 

A glass shattered, followed by the voice yelling, “take your fucking hands off me, douche bag!”

“I’m just going to…” you set your napkin on the table and pushed your chair back.

“Y/N,” your mother said in warning. “We’re having dinner.”

“I’m just going to make sure everything is okay,” you said, hoping she didn’t realize that you were trying to convince yourself you had a reason to go out there just as much as you were trying to convince her. 

“You’re not here for him,” she said. “You’re supposed to be here for me, for your family.”

Chip’s eyes darted quickly back and forth between you and your mother, totally lost. The two of you gave each other a look that clearly had years of history behind it, and he decided he might want to just stay in the dark.

“I’ll be right back,” you said definitively, standing from the table. Your mother sipped her wine bitterly as she watched you go.

You made your way out onto the patio, following the booming of Rafe’s voice over to the bar. He was face-to-face with another member, a middle aged man who was jabbing his finger into Rafe’s chest as he yelled at him.

“Everyone here is just trying to have a nice evening and you’re over here running your mouth,” the man spat.

Rafe shoved the man’s hand away from him and looked to the much younger woman who was standing behind him.

“I’m sorry for ruining your date with grandpa here, sweetheart,” he joked loudly. “If you ever want to be with a guy who can get it up without a truckload of Viagra, you give me a call, gorgeous.”

The man shoved Rafe and he stumbled backward, laughing, clearly drunk.

“Woah there cowboy,” Rafe chuckled. “We wouldn’t want to make a scene, now would we?”

He was being smug, dripping with arrogance, and it was making you sick. You couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. You thought this time you’d be able to confront him, try to understand why he was treating people like this, but the twist of your stomach forced you away from the scene as you fled from the patio towards the beach.

Rafe was about ready to cock his fist back, too drunk to care about escalating the situation further, when he saw it again - a flash of long hair and a flowing skirt disappearing from view. He suddenly felt completely sober. He patted the guy on the back and threw back the last of his drink before following the mysterious figure down to the beach. 

You stood at the edge of the water, doubled over with your heels in your hand, trying desperately to catch your breath. Maybe your mother was right, maybe you should just keep your head down and act like the only thing that matters to you on this island is her wedding. But both of you knew that wasn’t true, that it could never be true, not when he’s here. Not when something has clearly changed him, and you can’t sleep at night not knowing what horrible thing could’ve happened to make him behave this way. Just because you buried your love for him, didn’t mean the ghost of it had stopped haunting you.

You composed yourself and decided to go back to dinner. You’d fake your way through the rest of the week. You’d lie low, send your mother on her honeymoon, and finally get off this island for good. But when you turned back toward the club, he was there. Standing ten-feet away, just watching you.

“It is you,” he whispered, the wind knocked out of him from the shock of seeing your face in the moonlight.

“Hi, Rafe,” you say, but it doesn’t come out in the confident, casual way you had practiced for the last two years, preparing for the moment you’d inevitably see him again. Instead it’s meek, shaking with your unstable breath.

“What are you…” Rafe is speechless. For just a moment, he’s that soft, insecure boy you used to know. The boy you loved, who loved you desperately in return. He must catch the faint smile you can’t hold back, because his mouth slams shut and his jaw clenches. His wide eyes become steeley again as his shield flies back up.

“What are you doing here?” He practically spits.

“My mom is getting married,” you say, no smile gracing your lips anymore. “I thought you would’ve heard.”

“Been busy,” he shrugs. “Believe it or not I have actual shit going on.”

You chuckle humorlessly, “I can tell.”

“The fuck’s that ‘sposed to mean?” He takes an angry step towards you.

“Just the way you were talking back there, and at your party the other night,” you say. “Looks like you’re the big man now.”

It was you at the party. Rafe shakes his head in disgust, this is the final confirmation he needed to make-up his mind about whether he’s pissed at you. He’d prepared for this moment too, not sure if when he saw you again, he’d want to kiss you or kill you. Right now he was leaning toward the latter.

“Yeah, maybe I am,” Rafe says. “Now that I don’t have all of you holding me back.”

There’s a flash of something you can’t quite place in his eyes. For just a moment, he’s not here, like he’s losing a battle to stay in the moment. You wonder what kind of demons are roaring in his mind. You wish you didn’t want so desperately to exorcise them.

“All of us?” You repeat his words back to him, wondering who else joins you in the club of people Rafe Cameron now hates. You look him up and down with soft, sad eyes. 

“What happened to you, Rafe?”

“I don’t have to fucking explain myself to you, Y/N,” your name shoots off his tongue like a bullet, nothing like the way he used to coo it in worship when he held you, or moan it in awe when he was inside of you. “Why don’t you just fuck off back to wherever you’ve been. You don’t belong here anymore.”

You just look at him, head tilted as your narrow eyes size him up in a way that makes him feel like an exposed nerve. You know the second you get home tonight, the tears will come, but right now you put on a stoic demeanor to match his own. This was the opposite of the reunion you had dreamed of. You thought you’d be back in the arms of the person who knew you better than anyone in the world, but instead you stand face-to-face with a total stranger.

You start to walk back up the beach in his direction, noticing the way his Adam's apple bobs as you get closer to him. Once you’re next to him, you look up into the blue eyes that you used to imagine your kids would have someday. So many things you’d wanted to say, hundreds of letters never sent, millions of tiny memories you’d hold onto forever, but now, with his frame looming over you, all you could think to say was,

“I hate your hair.”

And for the third time this week, he stood breathless as he watched you disappear.

(chapter 3)

a/n: THANK YOU so much for all the support on chapter one, I am actually blown away I did not think so many people would enjoy my words!! Special thank you to bestie @nadvs for all the inspo and advice!!! 🫶🫶🫶

taglist: @maybankslover @dark1paradise @lmg-stilinski24 @idkdudsworld @mimipanini09 @patis643 @readingsmuts

#rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe cameron x reader #obx fic #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #obx smut #rafe cameron fluff #rafe fanfic #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe smut #rafe imagine #rafe fic #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron and you #rafe cameron and reader #rafe cameron and y/n

[crazy4leclerc]

pookie pie i need a lando fic where lando and reader are bffs, literally since day one, and oscar notices lando suddenly acting different BC HE'S FALLING FOR READER but obviously lando won't admit it yet, and oscar could accidentally spill to reader why lando's acting so weird

oblivious — l.n

pairing: lando norris x fem!bestfriend!reader

summary: lando is oblivious to the fact that he’s in love with his best friend, so oscar takes matters into his own hands.

warnings: pov changes, kissing, and that’s it

a/n: bestie requested, i shall deliver.

—

me and lando have been attached to the hip since birth basically. we’ve managed to keep close in contact through the entirety of high school and even now with him being an f1 driver.

lando invites me to his races all the time and of course, i’m always there. i’m there so often basically everyone in the mclaren garage is fond of me.

as of now though, it’s the week before the silver stone race and lando demanded that we hangout all week to distract him from the nerves since it is somewhat of a home race to him.

“y/n, can you come here for a sec?” lando calls for me and i oblige, standing up from his couch to walk to his room.

“you called?” i say, stepping foot into his room. “i don’t know what hat to wear, i have too many. what color goes best with my outfit?” he asks. looking him over, he’s of course covered in almost all black so i pick up the white mclaren hat and place it on his head.

“this one. easier said than done. don’t overthink it.” i pat his head and giggle. he rolls his eyes at me, “yeah yeah, ready to go?” he asks and i nod my head as we head out of his house to go meet up with oscar and his girlfriend.

once we meet up with oscar and lily at the mclaren event, i started to feel a bit out of place since there was so many people here i didn’t know. of course there was the mechanics and others from the garage but it was triple that at this event.

“y/n, you okay?” lando asks me as we make our way to sit down at a table. “yeah, i just, there’s a lot of people here.” i laugh nervously and he he grabs my hand, giving it a comforting squeeze.

“i know there is, love. it’s just a charity event, nothing to stress about. i wanted to invite you along next to me, didn’t wanna third wheel all night with them two.” lando says and points next to him where oscar and lily are sitting.

“hey! we don’t make you third wheel, you just wanted her to come along so you’re using us as an excuse.” oscar says and i squeeze lando’s hand, laughing, “you’ve been caught.”

lando huffs and rolls his eyes at us, “whatever helps you guys sleep at night.” he grumbles and me and oscar laugh together.

as the night goes on, lando helped calm my nerves and would sneak touches and glances at me all night.

“im sorry for making you come, i know its boring but its something i have to attend.” he whispers to me as the owner of mclaren talks to the crowd.

“it’s okay, i’m here with you.” i turn to look at him and he gives me a smile. i look over at oscar and lily and oscar is staring at us with a smirk on his face.

—

“mate, you can’t keep hiding it anymore.” oscar says to me and i have no clue what he’s even talking about.

“what do you mean?” i ask and he face palms. “god, you’re oblivious.” he grumbles, “i’m talking about you having feelings for y/n.”

and that’s when i feel my heart nearly stop.

“what? no i dont.” i deny but oscar refuses to believe it, “lando, you guys are attached to the hip. im not stupid, i saw the way you were looking at her tonight.” well he’s not wrong.

“i wasn’t looking at her in anyway. you’re just delusional.” i brush off his comment and walk out of my living room wanting to avoid this conversation.

“lando, im not letting you run away.” oscar says as he follows me into the kitchen, “i know you’re refusing to believe me or listen to me but i think she is the one for you, she has been the one for you. you guys grew up together, you guys always hangout, you support eachother like no other, and the way you both look at eachother says it all. for once, don’t push this away. i think y/n is what you need in life. i think she’ll be the best you’ve ever had if you let her.”

i stand there in my kitchen, hands gripping the countertop, completely dumbfounded by what oscar had said. he just stands there staring at me before saying, “let that sink in and maybe you’ll listen to me for once and it’ll open your eyes.” before walking out of my house and leaving me to drown in my thoughts alone.

—

i wake up at 8 the next morning, in lando’s spare bedroom that i’ve basically claimed as my own. last thing i remembered was oscar being over and them talking about the event. i headed to bed since it was already late when we got back.

i get out of bed and get ready for the day, when i make my way out of the room, i did not expect to find breakfast to be made.

“oh my god? you made pancakes!” i nearly yell and run over to hug a cooking lando.

“yes, i did. you’re welcome.” he laughs and squeezes me with his good arm that isn’t being occupied by flipping the batter. “you’re literally the best.” i tell him as i let go of him and take the plate that’s already made.

“yeah, i know i am.” he smirks at me but i just bust up laughing, “oh god, i boosted your ego.” i groan and pour syrup on the pancakes.

“nah, babe. the ego was already there.” i feel my cheeks heat up at the pet name, thrown off by it, but i continue to go with the flow.

“you f1 drivers are something.” i shake my head at him and begin eating the fluffy pancakes lando made for me.

after awhile, lando ends up dragging me over to oscar’s since he invited us to watch a tennis match.

now who watches tennis in their free time? i don’t question it, just enjoy the fact that i get to hangout with them.

once we get there, lando opens the car door for me and i thank him. “i saw that!” oscar shouts at us, and i giggle. “shut up!” lando shouts back as we walk up to where oscar is standing at the door.

“ready to watch some tennis?” he asks me and i just shrug, “i mean, im spending time with you guys so it evens out.” and oscar laughs.

halfway through the match, lando gets up to make food in the kitchen. “so, when are you going to stop being oblivious?” oscar looks over to tell me. i furrow my brows at his question, “oblivious over what?”

“lando. you guys are both oblivious.” he sighs and runs his hand over his face. “i’m over here playing matchmaker for the both you.” i just stare at oscar with a emotionless look on my face cause i didn’t expect this conversation to ever happen.

“last night after you went to bed, i think i finally talked some sense into lando. he likes you, y/n. it’s so obvious and it’s crazy to me that neither one of you have tried to do anything about it. i mean, the way you look at eachother speaks volumes and everything he does for you, says it all. i’m just tired of seeing you both do nothing about it so im finally taking matters into my hands to talk some sense into the both of you.” he confesses.

“i- honestly. i never expected this conversation to ever happen.” i say and he nods, “i get it but it’s happening now because im tired of you guys being clueless with how much in love you are with eachother.”

in love? with lando? me? no, that’s crazy.

unless…

it was then that everything clicked into place. the realization hit me like a thousand bricks and i all of a sudden had the urge to cry. everything lando does for me isn’t something a normal boy best friend would do. he wouldn’t call me pet names, cuddle with me, hold my hand, make me food, and invite me to every event he was to ever attend.

lando does like me.

and i like him back.

it was then that lando walked back into oscar’s living room, carrying a bowl of chips and salsa, “did i walk in at a bad time?” he asks and the tension in the room could’ve been cut with a knife.

“no, i think i finally got y/n to realize you’re in love with her.” at oscar’s ststement, lando drops the chips out of his hand, “you did what?!” he raises his voice, completely shocked.

i’m still sat on the couch zoned out, “yes, it’s about time you both opened your eyes!” oscar says to lando.

“oscar what the hell? you’ve probably made her upset.” lando says as he walks over to me and grabs my arm that’s perched on my knee, “are you okay?”

i stare up at him and ask “you do love me, don’t you?” that seems to catch him off guard because he lets go of my arm and i’m already missing the warmth of his touch. i see oscar take this as a cue to leave as he gets up and walks out the living room, leaving us alone.

“i- i love you as my best friend.” lando whispers to me but i know it’s a lie, “lando don’t lie to me.”

i feel tears brimming my waterline, why the hell am i about to cry?

“okay, fine. i do love you. i’ve been in love with you since we were kids, y/n.” he confesses and that’s when i feel the tears fall.

“hey, hey, hey. why are you crying, pretty girl?” he grabs my face and wipes the tears away, my body heating up at his touch and the pet name.

“i’m just- i’m overwhelmed. my feelings for you are overwhelming and i just never thought we would be in this situation. i’m not mad about our situation, im more than happy because i know there’s no one else out there for me. you’re the one for me, i guess oscar has just got me to open my eyes and now my feelings are everywhere.” lando smiles at me, “you’re too pretty to cry.”

i smile at him and reach up to grab his face, “i can’t believe you’ve been such a coward to confess that you’ve been in love with me since we were kids.” he laughs at me, “i’m sorry, you know i am. and i will apologize till the end of time. i just never wanted to ruin what we had even though i know it was alot like we were dating, but that’s besides the point, because now i can at least kiss you.”

“are you asking to kiss me, norris?” i tease him and he nods, “yes, because i’ve waited over a decade to do so.” i gasp and bring his face closer to mine, “well, i love them loyal.”

and suddenly lando’s lips came crashing down onto mine and it was like the world stopped moving. this felt right.

his hand reached down to my neck to pull me in closer as the other cupped my face. i smiled into the kiss, “congratulations on being my first ever real kiss.” i tell him and he laughs, “it’s an honor, good thing i’ll be your first and last.” he says as he pulls me in for another.

#nat writes #lando norris #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri #lando norris 4 #f1 x reader

[avis-writeshq]

pairing: early seasons!spencer reid x sunshine!fem!reader genre: fluff, pining, best friends to lovers warnings: reader struggles growing her nails out, reader gets her nails done. vietnamese women are the best at doing nails i swear (also if you get the reference you win another kiss) wc: 1.08k

Spencer thinks you deserve all the best things in life. There are various reasons for this but the one that sticks out to him the most is that fact that you have always been exceedingly kind to him. You have always listened to him when he talks and never once tried to belittle him for any of his interests. A part of him thinks that it’s because your ages are so similar. Another part of him thinks that you’re just pitying him. He truly hopes that isn’t the case. 

He makes you your coffee in the mornings. He knows how you take it– which milk you prefer, the amount of sugar. He has even gone as far as to buy your favourite instant coffee brand– the kind that are unreasonably expensive and have to be bought through a weirdly sketchy website despite its raving reviews. He remembers the way your eyes lit up as you held the familiar box excitedly and he can’t help but preen at the memory. 

“Thank you for coffee, Spence,” you chirp as you spy your unofficially assigned mug on your desk. You’re wet from the rain, the shoulders of your coat darkened from where your umbrella has dripped water onto it. “Hotch would’ve killed me if I had to spend another five minutes at the kitchen. It’s not my fault my train came fifteen minutes late.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, watching as you shake your hair away from your face before warming your hands with the mug. “I did tell him that there was a correlation between rainy weather and increased train delays which could have been a reason that you were late.”

You smile, clearly amused, asking, “how did he take it?”

“He pointed out that I’m still earlier than the rest of the team,” Spencer responds sheepishly, his cheeks growing pink. “I planned my train route for when the rain would be the least heavy.”

“I should follow in your footsteps,” you muse, sipping at your coffee and sighing in relief. “You always make this better than me.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he murmurs, his hand brushing against his scarf. “I was– um, I was wondering if you wanted to get lunch together later?”

You laugh softly and he relishes in the sound. “I only just got here and you’re already asking about lunch?”

He feels his cheeks glow hotter as he scrambles to explain himself. “Well– usually– uh, JJ usually asks you so I guess I wanted to ask before she did. And you have lunch with Garcia a lot so I thought I should ask when you get here and– sorry, is that wrong?”

“No, of course not,” you assure, beaming. “I’m touched that you think that I’m so popular that you need to book an appointment with me.”

“You are popular?” He says it like a question because a part of him is genuinely baffled that you don’t realise how well liked you are. He has found that you always manage to command the attention in the room and he has seen first hand the way people would be instantly drawn to you. He finds that he is no different. 

“I promise you that I am not as popular as you believe I am,” you say with another laugh. “I’m flattered though, truly. I’d love to have lunch with you.”

Spencer cannot stop smiling.

*** 

“You’re whipped.”

Spencer shoots JJ a look, his cheeks glowing hot with embarrassment. “I am not whipped.”

“You have been staring at her talking to Officer Deetmore for the past six minutes and twenty seven seconds,” she points out, her eyes narrowing. 

“They’re probably just making small talk.”

Emily shrugs from her desk, mixing her cup noodles around. “I don’t know, I’m surprised that she can hold a conversation with someone so intellectually disinclined.”

JJ snickers. “You’re just mad that he mislabeled a file and spread the profile.”

“Intellectually disinclined.”

“Guys,” Spencer pleads, inconspicuously gesturing to you saying your farewells and already heading in their direction.

You’re smiling although it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. Your arms are folded over your chest, a classic sign of discomfort, and your hands are tucked into your armpits. “Hey. What’s going on?”

“Are you alright?” Spencer asks instead of answering, soft enough as not to call attention to your little group. “What’s wrong?”

“Hm? Oh. I broke a nail.” You show him briefly– your natural nail has split at the corner just where they’re gaining length. “I’m a little bummed. It caught on the zipper of my go-bag.”

“Do you want to get your nails done after the case?” He asks, brows furrowing. “I have a nail clipper and file in my bag.”

JJ can’t help but be amused at this new fact. “You have a nail care pack in your bag? What, do you just take it around with you everywhere?”

He shrugs, ignoring the slight jab, pulling out the little pack from his satchel and handing it to you. He is well aware that you take pride in what you look like, especially your nails. You’ve told him the reason before, that your school was so strict that they wouldn’t let anyone grow their nails long and if they did they would be cut short by the nurse. He thinks that it’s borderline abuse. 

“Manicures are expensive,” you murmur, your eyes downcast as you focus on clipping each of your nails to an equal length. “Are we even allowed to have our nails done?”

“Federal Enforcement Resources states under grooming guidelines that ‘Makeup (including fingernail polish and artificial nails) may be worn by employees but must be professional and must not interfere with the proper use and handling of equipment necessary for their assigned duties’,” Spencer provides helpfully. “I can pay for your nails, too, if price is the issue. The bakery I buy my banh mi from has a nail place next door. I’m sure I can get a discount.”

You laugh as you file down your nails into a smooth edge. “You want to pay for my nails?”

“Oh, um, yeah.” He nods, cheeks suddenly hot and he wipes his palms on his slacks. “If you’d let me.”

“Gosh, well, at least take me out to dinner first, Spence.” You say it with jest, your eyes lighting up with mirth.

He doesn’t seem to catch your joking tone, nodding in earnest. “Alright. After the case, how does Saturday sound? I can pick you up at 6?” 

Emily and JJ are all too pleased. 

reblogs are always appreciated !!

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x reader fluff #criminal minds fluff #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler x reader fluff #matthew gray gubler fluff

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Finally Getting Help (pt 15)

Masterpost

The conversation trailed off as the stars came out and Danny started to watch them, head propped against Jason’s shoulder as he stared up at the sky. Jason was content to watch the fire, the flickering was hypnotic. Time passed slowly, until Danny gave a jaw cracking yawn that made Jason chuckle.

“How about we douse the fire and head to bed huh? It’s been a long day,” Jason suggested and Danny nodded, reluctantly pulling away from Jason he got up with a groan. Jason was about to go grab a bucket of water when Danny gestured and a wash of frost rushed over the ground and doused the fire with a sizzle and a puff of smoke and steam. “How many powers do you have?” Jason blurted.

“I don’t even know, I’m still developing them sometimes,” Danny sighed as he shuffled towards the tent “Clockwork says it’s something to do with me being half human. Most ghost’s powers are sort of stuck but I’m still growing and changing so I can keep learning. I sort of eventually figure out any power I see anyone else use. As long as they’re not too specialized, I’m not going to learn time manipulation just cause I saw Clockwork do it.” 

“Clockwork?” Jason asked as he followed Danny. 

“The ancient of time, he keeps an eye out for me. He means well, even though he’s a cryptic asshole most of the time.” 

“Daniel!” A voice Jason didn’t recognize shouted, but he was guessing Danny did, and it was not a welcome visitor by the way he flinched and immediately looked up with glowing green eyes. “I knew if I kept the trackers on you you would leave that god forsaken mansion eventually.” An odd, almost vampiric looking man with red eyes said as he floated down towards them. 

Jason still didn’t recognize the man but he didn't think anyone who looked That sinister could be a good guy. From the way that he was floating and context clues Jason could guess that this was a ghost. God Damn it! He only had one of his normal guns on him, he had put down the blaster! With the stranger's attention on Danny Jason scrambled for his gun.

“Vlad, what part of ‘stay the hell away from me’ don’t you understand?” Danny snarled.

Shit Vlad? Vlad masters the baby daddy? Jason felt a snarl rip its way out of his own throat, the pit swirling furiously inside him making him want to kill something. It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling though it didn’t happen as often these days. At least Vlad only seemed to have eyes for Danny, he probably didn’t register Jason as a threat, or even a person of interest. It was a little unflattering but it gave Jason an opening to go for the blaster in his bag.

“I thought you said you would never allow a billionaire to adopt you, clearly something has changed. Come with me Daniel, I understand you infinitely better than Bruce Wayne,” He spat the name with contempt. “I can take care of you and-” 

Jason got the gun and fired, his aim was true, the glowing green blast struck Vlad squarely in the stomach and he reared back with a pained yowl, red eyes snapping to Jason. He touched the wound in his stomach, dripping green blood, it wasn’t as deep as Jason would have liked and it was already healing fast, but Still, he’d done some damage and Vlad seemed furious. 

“You insolent brat!” He growled, holding out hands that were glowing with energy. Jason tensed to dodge but before he could Danny was in front of him, a shield of green energy in front of him. 

“ENOUGH!” Danny yelled, and changed form, shooting up into the sky he fired back at Vlad, rabidly throwing bolts of green energy at him. “I have had ENOUGH! You have drugged me, kidnapped me, threatened my friends, cloned me, and then killed the clones when they weren’t perfect.” Danny landed a hit, Vlad was unable to dodge or block so many in a row and he let out a grunt as Danny struck his chest, pushing him back a few feet. 

Vlad tried to duplicate himself to shield himself but Danny shot them as quickly as they were made, making them disappear in puffs of smoke and screams. Once they were gone he focused again on Vlad. His eyes were glowing even brighter with frustration and rage as he directed both hands at his attacker and shot an even more powerful blast, landing a hit on Vlad that sent him trembling back, clutching a bloody and swollen nose. 

“You are a pathetic, terrible, Lonely failure and you always will be! You will never get what you want! NEVER YOU HEAR ME?! YOu stay the hell away from me and my kids! MY kids! Or I will fucking kill you!” Danny swore, shooting at Vlad again, who barely managed a clumsy dodge. 

“Come now Daniel you don’t mean that,” Vlad said but for the first time he sounded nervous. Danny had never lost his temper like this before, they’d fought, but he’d never even sworn.

They were distracted again and Jason had a clear shot, Vlad was clearly tough if he took a shot to these shots running but he couldn’t be indestructible. He shot again, aiming for the head this time, unfortunately the green glow gave him away and Vlad dropped down to avoid it. Vlad shot back, and Jason threw himself out of the way and rolled back up to his feet, ready to dodge, or fire again. 

“No!” Danny shouted at Vlad, flying at him so fast he barely had time to throw up a shield of his own before Danny collided with him, forcing him back again. His hands pressed against the shield, glowing toxic green before the close range blast broke the shield and sent Vlad tumbling through the air. “I put up with you for the sake of my parents and my secret but now that doesn’t matter anymore I have no reason to go easy on you! I’m done! I’m done with you!” 

And then he screamed, that same earth shattering wail, and with Vlad already knocked off balance, bleeding green from his chest, his nose, and generally beaten to hell, he had no defense. The sound forced him down with more than the force than gravity, the sound and impact leveled trees in a near perfect circle and left a crater in the soft earth at the bank of the lake. And Danny just kept screaming, pushing Vlad deeper into the wet earth. Jason could see that Vlad was screaming too, probably from the pain, but he couldn’t hear anything over the feeling of Danny’s wail.

Jason wanted to clamp his own hands over his ears and block out the sound but he couldn’t, he needed to keep hold of his blaster, and remain ready. The water rushed in and covered Vlad quickly once Danny stopped screaming. Jason bolted towards the edge of the new cove for Vlad to emerge. 

He came up gasping and coughing, floundering before he grabbed the edge of the hole and dragged himself out. Jason was there to meet him with a gun to his head and a glowing green glare of his own. Jason wanted to shoot Vlad and kill him, but he didn’t want to do that in front of Danny. For all he had just said he would kill Vlad Jason didn’t think he really meant it. Danny wasn't a killer at heart.  

“Stay very still,” He said calmly once Vlad had finished hacking up all the water he’d breathed in. He kept one hand on the gun and his finger on the trigger as he pulled a com out of his pocket, sliding it into his ear and turning it on. “O? Are you there?”

“Hood? Report?” Bruce’s clipped ‘batman’ voice came through.

“Vlad crashed the party, Track our location, I have him pinned,” Jason said without taking his eyes off Vlad who was still breathing hard and bleeding, glaring up at him. 

“On our way,” Bruce said quickly. “ETA 18 minutes.” 

“Very well done Todd,” Vlad drawled dryly and Jason twitched, of course since he’d been to Galas Vlad would know who he was, but Jason still did Not like it. “But you might want to look out, I believe young Daniel is in need of rescue.”

Jason knew better, he really did, but he couldn’t help glancing up quickly, and he was glad he did. He was just in time to see Danny revert to his human form and fall. Jason barely managed not to drop the gun as he ran to catch Danny, taking the brunt of the impact and going to his knees to keep them both intact through the landing. 

“Danny?” He gasped, pushing the other man’s hair back from his face, his eyes were closed and he wasn’t responding to his name but he was breathing. Jason glanced over to see Vlad was already gone. “Shit. B, you still there?”

“Yes. What happened Jay?” He asked, sounding more worried, more like Bruce. 

“Danny passed out,” Jason said as he set the other man down, grabbing a light and checking his pupils. “Pupils are responsive but he’s not waking up even with the light shining in his face. Vlad escaped but he couldn’t have gotten far in that condition. Danny really gave him hell.” 

“We’ll be there soon,” Bruce said, clipped and determined. Jason could hear the motor in the background, if he was pushing the usually silent jet to the point it was making that sound he really would be there in minutes. 

Jason sat down and pulled Danny nearly into his lap, still holding the gun just in case. He thought Vlad had made a break for it but he didn’t want to let his guard down. After all he had thought Vlad would be smarter then to attack them today, he had clearly underestimated the man’s obsessiveness and stupidity. The last thing he needed now was for Vlad to try and make a break for it with Danny while he was so vulnerable. 

He was rocking just a little, he didn’t know if he was trying to sooth Danny or himself as he waited for Bruce and whichever of his siblings were tagging along to arrive. He thought that he was in shock judging by how vague he felt and the odd aura at the edges of his vision. It was always sort of funny having the vague knowledge that he Was in shock but not really being able to do anything about it.

He looked up when he heard the bat-plane overhead and watched it coming in for a water landing. Finally feeling safe enough to holster his gun, freeing both hands to scoop Danny into his arms, getting up with Danny still cradled close. It wasn’t like the other man was heavy, Jason stumbled just a little as he went over to meet his family as the ramp dropped and they came rushing out. 

“Any idea what’s wrong with him?” Batman asked gruffly, going straight to them pushing a medical gurney.

“I think he just overused his powers,” Jason said numbly, putting Danny down on the rolling bed and followed Bruce back into the plane and the same time Spoiler, Blackbat, and Red Robin took off into the woods, to search for Vlad no doubt. Jason hoped they found him but somehow he doubted they would, Vlad could turn invisible and intangible after all, and Danny hadn’t had time to build them everything they’d need. Even with a decent amount of confiscated Fenton tech Jason didn’t like their odds. 

“He has this sonic attack that's really strong but seems to take a lot out of him. He passed out pretty soon after using it the second time,” He explained, sitting down heavily next to the bed as Bruce fussed and checked Danny’s vitals. 

“His heartbeat is slow but strong, pupils responding, like you said, he isn’t visibly injured. I think you’re right he over used it. We’ll set up an IV just to give him some energy and hydration and hopefully he’ll wake up soon. He’ll be okay Jay,” Bruce said, pausing to rest a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “I’ll take you back to the manor, I’m sure the others will find Vlad.”

“They’ve all got their wards?” Jason asked distractedly and Bruce nodded as he buckled Danny and the gurney in securely so he wouldn’t roll around during transport. “Good, ya, let's go home. I’m sorry, taking him camping was stupid. It was helping but I should have known that with Vlad still out there-”

“No, we didn’t see this coming, it’s not your fault,” Bruce interrupted, before sitting back in the pilot's seat and taking off. 

Jason didn’t agree, but he didn’t argue either. No one had argued with him, he was sure they’d all thought, like he did, that with the entire justice league after him and the ‘woman of his dreams’ behind bars Vlad would have bigger things to worry about. They’d all underestimated just how obsessed with Danny Vlad was, in this family of obsessive assholes it was a particularly foolish mistake.

#dc x dp #danny phantom #fanfiction #jason todd #dead on main #finally getting help AU #vlad is a creep #vlad plasmius #danny is pregnant #trans!danny #bruce wayne #batman #red hood

[blueywrites]

baby can we smoke?

eddie munson x ditsy!fem!reader you're the last person eddie expects to leave a note in his locker, but he won't regret meeting you out by the picnic table.

2.8k

cw: 18+. innocent reader (not minor-coded), corruption kink, weed usage, allusions to smut while high, no y/n, no physical descriptions.

Another 'naughty nights' ask that got a bit lengthy (check out the original ask here). I had fun writing from this perspective! Should I continue this with a part two? 👀 Let me know what you think.

enjoy xx

Eddie finds the note in his locker right before lunch. It's written on a quarter of a math worksheet, ripped carefully at the folds and decorated with little doodles of hearts and clouds and shooting stars drawn in sparkly purple pen. That's not the only note in there, but it’s the only one that has him curious, ‘cause it’s from you.

He stops by your lunch table just before the final bell, letting his eyes rove over you while you aren’t paying attention. You’re wearing your typical attire: a fuzzy, pastel-colored sweater, baggy and soft-looking like cotton candy, paired with a little pleated skirt and that heart locket he always sees hanging from your neck in the class you share. He hadn’t pegged you as the type of girl to smoke, and it isn’t just because of the way you look since his clientele is diverse, dips into almost every pocket of the high school social ecosystem. It’s more the way you carry yourself— you seem to kind of float through life, let it bob you about without any resistance or, like, awareness, even? Like, you hum to yourself while you take notes; you don’t talk a ton, but when you do, you’ll talk to literally anybody who’s in proximity to you, including the teachers; and you’re always either giggling or smiling or, sometimes, wearing a look of vague confusion where your glossed lips will hang open, parted in a little ‘o’ like with all your concentration focused on trying to understand something, you have nothing left over to control your face.

Eddie doesn’t wanna call you dumb because that’d make him feel like an asshole, but you just seem so… innocent to be asking him to teach you how to smoke weed. It briefly crosses his mind that someone might just be trying to fuck with him and you hadn’t actually written the note, but when you finally notice him nearby, your wispy-lashed eyes widen eagerly like you’d been expecting him. 

“Yeah, so,” you say, as if continuing a conversation you’d already been having with him, “I really wanna get high, and Susie said you’re the one who sells weed, but I just don’t know how to smoke. I’ve never done it before, not even, like, cigarettes or anything.”

You seem oblivious to the way several heads at the tables around yours swing around to stare, easily overhearing since you’re not making any effort to lower your voice. Eddie merely quirks a brow at them, and when they make eye contact with him, they turn back around. “So,” you go on, “I’d just need you to help me, show me how to smoke and stuff. Would that be okay?”

Eddie debates it for just a moment before relenting with a nod. He tells you to meet him after school at the picnic table behind the athletic fields and you agree right away, smiling up at him with an expression of such utter awe and glee that he has to stop himself from snorting in amusement. It’s funny, but it’s also kind of cute, too— Eddie doesn’t remember the last time someone was so excited at the idea of receiving his help, and your enthusiasm is endearing.

It’s simply endearing all the way up until he has you sitting facing him on the picnic bench, kicking your little feet idly while you straddle it, staring at him with that little ‘o’ face of concentration as he deftly grinds the bud. You plant your hands between your spread legs, leaning forward and watching with rapt fascination as he begins to pack the green into the paper. Your bare knees press against the inside of his, soft and warm through the rips in his jeans; his eyes flick to the hem of your skirt, the way it’s barely long enough to poke out from the pooling of sweater fabric at your lap, and he adds a bonus pinch or two to the joint. It’s fat when he finishes rolling, pinching it between two callused fingers as he tilts to the side and tugs his zippo from his pocket. The lighter draws your gaze like a fluttering moth, your attention snared by the flickering flame, and Eddie finds himself staring at you for a moment before he blinks his fascination away.

“Okay.” Eddie speaks once the paper catches, and your eyes dart from the smoldering tip to his face, expectant and waiting. You’re close enough that he can see where your mascara has flaked a little onto your lids, and from this distance, your helplessness— how dependent you are on him, how sweet and open and utterly trusting you look— elicits a pang low in his belly. He swallows. “So, you’re gonna wanna keep the smoke in your mouth first, and then inhale. Not too deep though, or else you’ll cough it all out and waste it. Here, I’ll show you.” 

Eddie watches you watch him as his lips wrap around the end of the joint and he pulls from it, fairly shallowly compared to what he’d usually do. He drops his hand so you can see, lets his cheeks puff out so you won’t miss the way he’s collecting the smoke. 

And that look on your face is so entranced, Eddie feels suddenly powerful. His chest expands on the inhale, and he smirks at you, closed-mouthed and crooked as your eyes widen at how long he holds it before he lets it billow from his nose like a dragon. That delights you, and the rest of the smoke escapes Eddie’s mouth on a raspy chuckle at how simple it is to please you.

“It’s that easy?” you ask as he waves the lingering smoke away, clearing the space between you.

“‘S that easy, sweetheart,” Eddie confirms. And he finds it curious when you bite your lip, dragging your teeth along the gloss there in such a way that it has him wondering how sticky it must feel. “You ready to give it a try?”

You nod, head bouncing like a dashboard bobblehead, but when Eddie maneuvers the joint in his fingers and holds out the end for you to take, you hesitate, fidgeting and pulling at your sweater sleeves so they cover your fingers. 

“You want me to hold it for you?” Eddie guesses, and you nod again, meeting his gaze with a sweet little grateful smile that has his belly panging again, stirring with the barest amount of low, liquid heat. He reaches out, letting his hand hover at the side of your face, hesitating as he looks to you. “Can I—?”

“Yeah,” you say, your voice small and wispy in a way that isn’t helping with those stirrings he’s feeling. And your cheek is so smooth when he cups it in his hand, using the light grip to guide your face up and hold you steady for him as he brings the joint to your pouty lips. They brush Eddie’s thumb when they part for him to place the joint between them, sticking your flesh to his as you hesitantly pull the smoke into your mouth. 

“That’s it,” he rasps, merely wanting to encourage you, but you just won’t stop staring at him like that as he feeds you the hit. Like, shit, can you really blame him when the stirring creeps lower, down from his belly into his groin? Your cheeks puff up with smoke, and he can almost feel what it’d be like to see the outline of his dickhead poking out of one— all soft and slick inside, plush skin stretched tight around his—

Your hands are flapping in the air between you like you’re trying not to grab onto him, and when Eddie notices the distressed pinch between your brows, he pulls the joint hastily from between your lips. You look like a fucking chipmunk, your cheeks are so full, and Eddie realizes that as he’d zoned out thinking about his cock in your mouth, you just kept sucking and sucking ‘til you literally couldn’t anymore. 

Quickly, Eddie clutches the joint in his teeth to free his hands, gently cupping your full cheeks; sympathetic, patronizing, he says through it, “You didn’t have to— s’too much, honey, just blow a little out, okay?” 

Smoke eeks out from your pursed lips in a steady stream until he pats your face with his fingertips. “Okay, that’s enough,” he says hurriedly, lest you release the entire hit. Obedient to a fault, you are, and damn him for where his mind wanders with that information. “Now, slowly—” he tips his chin, widening his eyes for emphasis, “slowly breathe it in. Take it nice and easy.”

You do as he says, and his shoulders nearly sag with relief when you do it successfully. “Okay, hold it for a few,” he coaxes, dropping his hands and absentmindedly plucking the joint from between his teeth, watching you closely for any signs of difficulty. When you remain placid, a proud grin spreads over his face, and as the seconds tick on, you grow mutually excited, your lips pressed tight and your eyes all lit up as you look back at him. Pretty, he thinks, and then again when you finally let the breath go and smile radiantly.

“I did it!” you exclaim, drumming your sleeved hands on your thighs excitedly as you giggle.

“You did,” Eddie replies, warm and fond at the sight of your happiness and the part he played in it. He takes another hit of his own— quicker but deeper than his first— and inclines his head once he’s released it, flashing his brows encouragingly at you. “You wanna try it again?”

“Definitely,” you say, tipping your face up and leaning in expectantly. Your scent washes over him, something fruity maybe, and Eddie has to try hard not to lean further forward and drag his tongue across your lips, to pry them open and see if the inside of your mouth tastes as sweet as you smell. 

For a good while, you and Eddie trade hits back and forth, one for you for every two of his until the whites of your eyes go pink and your body loosens, unraveling upon the picnic table. You end up in a deep lean against the tabletop, your head propped in your hand, your breast squished against the wooden edge in such a way that even in that fuzzy near-shapeless sweater, the sight tantalizes him. Eddie’s feeling as high as you look, mirroring your posture with his knees spread wide, engulfing your shorter thighs in a dark frame of denim. He’s high enough that he doesn’t have that typical discomfort pinching in his chest at the silence between you, doesn’t feel the need to fill it by talking about whatever shit pops into his head. He’s consumed instead with sensation— the breeze ruffling his frizzy curls, tickling him with broken strands along his hairline; the dull crunch of old, nearly-rotted leaves under his sneakers; the hollow thrum of his pulse in his ears and the flow of living blood through his veins, cycling with each slow, rhythmic throb of his heart. And as he looks across at you— sweet, soft, sensual you — Eddie finds that since the high has his nerves all alight, he wants to touch your skin again, see how it feels now under his sensitized fingers.

The weed-haze brings with it a certain fond, almost nostalgic influence. It’s one that breaks down barriers, creates closeness where there wasn’t any, or magnifies it where there was. Your bodies are certainly closer now, sagging inward toward one another as you laze in mutual drug-induced comfort. Eddie’s used to feeling that influence, but you’re not, so when he reaches out and runs his finger down the back of your hand, you let out a small gasp at the contact. Startled, he jerks his dipping chin upright, bloodshot eyes darting to your face. But he finds no upset there, only surprise and shy pleasure painted across your features. So he plucks your hand from your lap, tugging it gently over to him and letting it rest on his thigh so he can satisfy his fascination with the texture of your skin. Your fingers twitch a little as he laces them with his, slowly dragging his fingertips through the gaps and then down your palm to your wrist. When his thumb comes back up to trace the outside of yours, you nudge into his touch, relaxing into the sensation with a languid sigh.

“Does it feel nice? The high,” he clarifies when you blink at him, droopy-lidded and wearing your little ‘o’ face. He keeps tracing along the valley of your thumb, dipping down and then back up along your index finger, enjoying the tickle of your skin against his calluses.

“Mm-hmm.” You smile, your eyes dropping to your joined hands. “Feels really nice. Kinda floaty, like my head’s not as heavy anymore.”

Eddie crooks a smile, humming his agreement. Lax and pliant, you let him continue to play with your fingers, and he’s suddenly hit with a potent impulsive urge to bring your limp hand to his mouth and nibble your fingertips, lick the smooth polish of your painted nails, suck your pinkie into his mouth and tease your skin with his tongue to see what sound you’d make. He doesn’t do that. But he does let his fingers snake under the sleeve of your fuzzy sweater, let them creep along your forearm up to the crease of your inner elbow. He drags his thumb in slow circles there, crawling around and around until he finds what he’s looking for: a sign that you feel the same stirring in your belly that he feels, revealed by the slightest whisper of a moan his touch pulls from your lips.

Encouraged, Eddie’s hands travel then— tugging out of your sleeve to smooth up your arm and over the dip of your shoulder; palming your neck, dragging up to your ear to cup around the base of your skull; ghosting across your ribcage and down to your hip; then sneaking just beneath the pleats of your tiny skirt, flexing against the hidden skin there. All the while, that liquid heat sloshes around in his belly, spreading low between his hips, dripping down to tighten in his balls and fill out his stiffening cock.

He doesn’t know exactly how it happens, but eventually, you end up laid out on the rough wood bench, your legs dangling to either side of his head as he kneels before you, nosing at the tender skin of your inner thigh. Your sigh is a shuddery, eager thing when his teeth graze the lacy edge of your cotton panties, which to his delight are swallowed up a little by the plump of your pussy lips. “Can I take these off?” Eddie asks, forcedly casual and only slightly gritty as he tries to bite back his own rabid eagerness lest he scare you off with it. But you’re quick to say yes, so quick that it tells him you want this just as much as he does, and maybe even more, though he can scarcely believe that. 

The thought makes him cocky. He eases your panties down, deliberately slow to see if you’ll get impatient. Sure enough, you wiggle your hips, whining quietly to try to hurry him; the power your neediness gives him surges with his arousal as he feels just how damp the fabric is when he balls it in his fist. Hastily, he tucks your panties into his back pocket, his eyes locked on that sweet, swollen place between your legs. 

 "Aw, look’it her,” he croons, splaying his long fingers against your inner thighs to spread you more open for him. “Can't believe you been hiding her all this time under these little skirts you wear.” 

If you’re cute, your pussy is adorable— plump like a peach, wet and ripe and glistening as he presses into your slit with his thumbs and pulls your lips apart to see more of her. She yields easily for him, splitting with a sticky click to reveal your quivering hole and your fat clit already peeking coyly from its hood. “Oh, she's so pretty, baby,” Eddie praises, his mouth watering and his cock jerking in his tight jeans, stiffening further against his zipper. “And she’s so wet already. Bet I can make 'er spit for me." 

You coo, and he lifts his head to see you biting your lip through an eager grin. "Yeah? You excited for me to touch you?" Eddie chuckles, equally fond and condescending. "Aren’t you just a sweet little thing."

“R’you gonna eat my pussy, Eddie?” you ask, and the question is so dirty but your voice sounds so goddamn innocent that he can’t help but chuckle again, this time in disbelief. 

“Yeah, baby,” he rasps, palming himself quickly over his jeans to try to bring relief because his dick is suddenly so fucking hard it aches. “I’m gonna eat your pussy.”

#blueywrites #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagine

[littlexdeaths]

jock steve harrington x fem reader

18+ ONLY MDNI

warnings: mean steeb, fingering, light choking, reader is referred to by nicknames (honey, baby, pretty baby), enemies with so much sexual tension

a/n: idk man seeing sweaty steve just got me thinking of how frustrated he must of been in that gym scene… and then i just spewed this out. enjoy xx.

teasing your rival steve harrington after you watch billy hargrove obliterate him on the basketball court— but he’s beyond fed up.

he’s sweaty and incredibly frustrated by the time he gets to the locker room. taking a seat on the bench as the rest of his classmates begin to filter out.

until it’s just him left… or so he thinks.

“billy really wiped the floor with you, harrington,” your soft voice startles him, those liquid honey eyes lift to regard you darkly.

you approach him slowly, leaning your back against the lockers opposite him. only a few feet separates your bodies.

“he doesn’t play fair,” he grunts, ignoring you as he begins to untie his sneakers.

“or maybe you aren’t as good as you think you are.” you fire back, watching in utter amusement as his jaw muscles tighten.

“i’m not in the mood.”

his sour tone only causes you to giggle, snapping the gum between your teeth. the sound echoed through the empty locker room as he kicked his nike’s off. before he grips the collar of his sweat soaked shirt, tugging the material over his head.

“aww, can’t take the heat, stevie?” you tease.

he moves quicker than you were prepared for, caging you in against the row of lockers. his nose brushes against yours as you feel his hot breath fan over your lips.

“you don’t know when to stop, do you?” his tone is harsh as he lifts one of his large hands to wrap around the base of your throat.

“it’s just so easy to rile you up, harrington,” you smile sweetly up at him, fluttering your lashes.

you try to ignore the growing heat between your legs, maintaining your composure. but the moment his hand tightens around your throat— you know you’re done for.

“god, you’re such a brat.”

your body reacts without any warning, thighs pressing together as a needy whimper leaves your lips.

“oh you like that, huh?” he chuckles, his other hand trailing down your side, slipping beneath the waistband of your gym shorts. “you like when i’m a little mean, honey?”

any other comment dies in your throat as he finds your swollen bud, the pad of his thumb brushes over it in small circles.

“no,” you whine.

“then why are you so wet, baby?” his tone is dripping with condescension, as his middle finger slips inside your tight heat.

your walls instantly suck him in, chest heaving as his lips trail across your jaw. the air around you has suddenly grown warmer, the scent of sweat and his aftershave engulfing your senses.

“steve,” you cry out and he adds another finger, curling them up to brush against your sweet spot.

“that’s it, honey.” he hums, his thumb pressing firmly onto your clit. “let me hear you.”

you reach your hands up to tangle them into his dark, thick hair. guiding his mouth to yours as you press them together harshly. he groans into your mouth as he increases the speed of his fingers.

and you swear he must be able to hear how loud your heart is beating against your rib cage.

“gonna cum, pretty baby?” he asks, despite knowing the answer already. as your walls continue to constrict around his fingers like a vice.

“please, please, please.” you beg, no longer caring that it’s steve harrington you’re begging to make you come.

but then everything stops.

the pressure that was building in your abdomen suddenly fizzles out, tears of pleasure turn to ones of frustration. you instantly miss the heat that was radiating from his chest, as he removes himself from you.

steve chuckles darkly, honey eyes watching in utter delight at your discouraged expression.

“maybe that’ll teach you not to tease me,” he warns, slipping his sticky fingers past his plump lips before turning on his heel.

leaving you exasperated as he heads for the showers.

#the freak writes 🫧 #steve harrington x y/n smut #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x female reader smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem #mean dom!steve harrington #mean!steve harrington

[silkjade]

OF GOSSAMER THREADS

wriothesley x reader ⤀ synopsis: all this for a new set of clothes, wriothesley never imagined he’d be this sensitive while having his measurements taken… and so you offer a way to help him relax ⤀ cw: fem!reader, pet names (princess + girl), blowjob / oral (m. receiving), deepthroating, little bit of dacryphilia + corruption — mdni || ꒰ 2.5k wc ꒱ a/n: finally the fic version of this little thing i posted, that has actually been in my drafts for months

“don’t tell me the duke’s never had his measurements taken before.” your eyes flicker up from beneath thick lashes, a brow raised at the peculiarity of the situation: wriothesley, the infamous warden who just about radiates confidence, stiff at the prospect of a simple fitting.

“unfortunately, there aren't many special occasions that call for your services here at palais meropide.”

you hum in agreement, nonchalantly giving him a sharp tap tap to his toned bicep, as you circle around him, ducking out of his line of sight. he's right of course; the fortress doesn't often call for the services of a seamstress such as yourself, but it seems even its great duke must adhere to the rules of society events, whenever his nation so demands.

“arms up,” you instruct, when he fails to respond to your simple gesture.

from behind, he feels the bite of cold air run through his self for the first time in a long while, as he flinches from the way your fingers dance like ice at the bared nape of his neck. your tape measure stretches down the length of his spine until a perfectly manicured nail marks a hatch into the fabric ruler, pressing just the slightest bit into the dip at his back. he arches away from your touch, all but jolting in response.

it isn't you, per say, nor is it the process itself, but rather that dangerous combination of both. how you're so casually intimate with your ministrations, walking the line between close and closer, with nowhere else to stray. touching him in places he had never imagined would be sensitive, and doing so without ever batting an eye.

of course, as an employee of chioriya boutique, it's nothing new to you — nor is it anything out of the ordinary to the men and women you dress over at the court of fontaine. but you cannot help but find amusement in how this rugged wolf of a man squirms beneath the lightest of touches.

wriothesley stretches, rolling his shoulders to alleviate the unfamiliar soreness in his arms. boxing, fighting—all of that he can do, easily and proficiently—yet his arms have never felt heavier than they do now, as he holds them out, so as not to obstruct your path. a small smile tugs at the corner of your lips, but you refocus onto the matter at hand, trading your tape for a pen as you quickly jot down the length of his back. cute, you think.

he almost breathes a sigh of relief when you finally allow him to rest his arms, that is, until he sees you down on your knees, near-hugging his frame in order to grasp the measure of his hips.

“I've always heard the duke was a skilled boxer — didn't think this little session would be enough to do you in,” you say, in an attempt to lighten the mood, because it'd be near impossible to get accurate measurements the way he's tensing up all his muscles.

you glance up to check his reaction when he doesn't respond. not that he isn't listening, but it's difficult to focus, difficult to breathe, when the sweet scent of your perfume—marcotte, he notes—sends him into overdrive, his brain directing all his senses to congregate at his crotch.

“hey, relax,” you remind him, but his mind as already decided to wander astray. how can it not when you look up at him with those eyes, large and wide, and how he'd like to see them brimming with tears, perhaps with his cock in your—

he forcibly drags the thought out of his head, setting an iron foot down as he shakes away the apnea, exhaling with a low puff to his breath, and a light tint to his cheeks. “it's a bit easier said than done.”

he laughs it off, yet despite his smart remarks, wriothesley clears his throat as if his voice hadn't near cracked at how your knuckles had brushed against the inside of his thigh while you were garnering its circumference; your phantom touch sending shivers to his skin, even through the fibers of his clothes. you hear him swallow down a grunt, and from the corner of your eye, you see the real issue now.

“would it be easier if I helped with... this?” manicured nails graze across the fabric covering his crotch, cheekily avoiding the obvious outline of his cock.

wriothesley lets out a small chuckle, wondering if he's perhaps hallucinating at this stroke of luck? fate? whatever it is, who was he to deny what's come knocking at his door, especially as you're already taking steps to smooth back any loose hair from your face. he backs into his own desk and sits at the edge before gesturing with a wave of his hand and a lilt to his voice.

“by all means... ” so you undo the buckles at his belt — his pants and briefs quickly following suit, as you tug both remaining garments down, one after the other, before greeting his bulbous tip with a quick kiss hello.

your thumb glosses over his slit, collecting beads of pre, as you run long strokes up and down his shaft. strained, wriothesley exhales through gritted teeth; you can feel him pulsing in your hands, throbbing with need. your touch is searing — it burns like ice, crawling up his veins until his scattered thoughts are frozen in place, stuck on the ever persisting need to buck forward.

“easy there, your grace,” you tease, heat accompanying your tongue with every lave around the underside of his cock. from his thick base to his leaking tip, the flat of your tongue traverses a wet path along the upward curve, before finally, you take him in the warm engulf of your mouth.

wriothesley stifles a breath, tossing his head back as he leans into his desk, exhaling a soft grunt at the way you suckle on just his tip, tongue swirling as you wrap the head in a sweet caress, and take him just a little deeper. from your peripherals, you easily catch on to how his grip tightens around the edge of his desk — a reluctant companion to the slight, yet ever present tremble in his hips, daring him to break at the growing pleasure between his legs.

sucking in your cheeks, you hollow them in until there’s nothing left to feel except the angry pulse of his cock in the wet maw of your mouth. you drag your lips slowy—tantalizingly so—off his cock, as if imprinting the feel of his veins onto your tongue, savoring the taste of his arousal before suctioning off with a nasty pop.

the air is immediately striking, an onslaught of sudden cold that sends his wet cock twitching in impatience. if he didn’t know any better, he’d think you were toying with him, but a single glance down only confirms the duke’s suspicions in that you absolutely are. because oh how you so sweetly bat your doe eyes, looking up at him with anything but innocence, as delicate strands of saliva still connect your lips to his leaking cockhead, snapping as you force yourself to hold back the haughty little smile threatening to appear at how you’ve left the man equally flushed in face and cock.

carefully, you rub along his slit until your fingers are curled around his girth, pumping his fat cock in a mix of spit and pre, kissing down his length while your free hand presses against his sensitive hipbone, your breath tickling his skin, as you take one of his balls in your mouth, suckling as if it were the sweetest of confections.

he grunts, bucking into your fist. duke wriothesley who has never had his measurements taken. duke wriothesley who perhaps has never been teased as so. duke wriothesley whose hand snakes its way to your chin, and with a slight jerk, tilts your gaze to the ice in his half-hearted glare.

“hey,” he chides, “enough of that.” but his air of authority is tainted by the rasp in his voice, undermined by his own traitorous eyes that drift to the residue surrounding your lips. oh, how terribly he'd like to see such a pretty, pristine thing tainted and stained by his touch... and so he runs his thumb over your bottom lip, dipping into the wet heat of your mouth, and subconsciously guiding you back onto his cock.

any resolve left in the duke crumbles as you part those sinful lips, throat opening as you attempt to swallow him whole, and he sucks in a sharp breath, head thrown back as his fist races to smother his groans, teeth clinging to the skin of his knuckles.

you nurse his cock just a little bit deeper with every bob of your head, your palms—still slick with spit—pumping the length of all you cannot fit. his impressive size no doubt adds to the weight, your jaw falling slack just to fit his girth, but you persist, tongue swirling and painting and lapping up sloppy strokes all around. he rocks his hips, irregular and shallow, but it nonetheless has tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. you quickly blink them away, opting to refocus on holding down your gag reflex, rubbing your thighs together as a distraction and nurturing your own wetness that accumulates in between.

a moan rises from the back of your throat, the vibrations pulsing and weaving around him like silk threads, cocooning him in a pleasure that you can so clearly feel from the way he throbs on your tongue, which so desperately tries to maneuver around his shaft until he caves to the tightness—too warm, too welcoming, for him to resist any further.

and so by no will of his own, his hips jerk.

the impact makes you choke, convulsing around him as the force of his thrust sneaks him a little further down your throat. spittle leaks from the corners of your mouth while you do your best to swallow all you can, but the sting of tears immediately returns to haunt your visage, this time successfully leaving a number of streaky trails in its wake.

you send him a weak half-glare, but wriothesley only stutters out a weak apology before his sharp eyes are drawn to the subtle movement of your hips and thighs, and of how your knees readjust in search of any friction that might serve as an alleviant to the cock knocking at the back of your throat. even so, the whine vibrating around his cock begs for attention back to your pretty face.

beneath gossamer lashes, your eyes glisten with the promise of more tears; playful embers now vaporized by the saturated lull of lust, that he hates to admit thrills him. you, who had arrived at the fortress like an overworld princess; so prim and pretty, with the heels of your shoes click-clacking throughout his metal abode. your fashionable attire, so perfectly ironed and flouncing along with every step…

but where is your composure now, as you kneel before him, with his dick in your mouth?

he smoothes a hand along the top of your head before stopping at the crown. you can feel the tangible twitch of his cockhead, and you whimper in nervous anticipation, because you already know what's to come.

“you can take more than that,” he rasps, challenging you, all the while tilting your head down just a little further. “almost there, princess... relax. just a little more...”

his sweet words loosen your nerves, opening your throat to the realization that somehow, you must have relinquished control over to the duke, handing him the reigns as you let him pull you down, down over that last stretch of his length, bit by bit until the tip of your nose finally presses into the thatch of dark curls at his hilt. you flutter and squeeze around him, drool trickling down your chin as you splutter and gag.

and gracious as he is, wriothesley grants you a moment to breathe, through your nose, of course, if the large hand still weighing atop your head was any indication. he stretches a thumb over, gently brushing away a piece of hair fallen loose onto your face.

you really are so pretty — resting parallel to his balls, looking up at him with dew on your lashes and water in your eyes, lips pooling with spit at where you’re stretched around his base. he pulls out a little, throbbing with the desire to fuck and ruin… but slowly, he grinds himself back in, tapping the back of your sputtering throat every time he runs a pass along the palate of your tongue.

wriothesley throws his head back, groaning loud and raw through his teeth. you feel so good; so hot it makes his blood run cold, so tight it has him coming undone. and he’s so close. you can both feel it.

you moan again, despite the struggle to do so while his tip remains busy fucking your throat. behind his thighs, you dig your fingers into his bare flesh, bobbing along, hugging him even closer because after all, it was you who had offered to help with his problem, and it’ll be you who sees him through to the end.

“dirty girl,” he breathes, wholly impressed at how you take him like a sleeve, rolling along with his movements, and leaving him to shudder so close to completion. his face twists with pleasure, fingers tightening in your hair when he feels that pleasantly familiar barrage of tremors bubbling from your throat.

the wet sound of skin and spit rings in your ears. dirty. yes, that’s exactly what this was. to think you’ve never felt so sloppy and messy, gagging on cock, much less one like his… and yet… you think you love this. that, or you must be dizzy off delirium because his words have heat rushing to your cheeks and your cunt, stifling another choked moan that reverberates through the entirety of his shaft.

when he cums, he cums in your mouth, spilling in spurts with no restraint — and you swallow as best you can, as much as you can, really. still, he continues to rock his softening cock 'til the end of this high, savoring the last remnants of your sweet lips before you slowly pull off.

that first breath of real air is sweet, even amidst the iron-tainted walls of meropide, though you're apt to remember that even too harsh a breath would send your battered throat into a fit of coughs. you slump down to your heels, panting softly, entirely too aware of your current predicament, as you run a thumb across the tip of your chin, slimy with your combined fluids. it's sloppy, dirty, and oh how you're forced to swallow your own spit, when your clit pulses in rebellion.

above you, wriothesley chuckles, kneeling down to your level, yet still broad enough for his back to cover the dim light of his office, tall enough that he must tilt your head to catch those lovely eyes in his wolfish gaze again. he pulls a handkerchief from his breast pocket, wipes the mess from your lips until you're prim and pretty and perfect, ready to be unravelled once again.

“shall I return the favor?”

a/n2: my first (and probably last) time writing a blowjob so i hope it was ok lolz this is so embarrassing so i’m posting n fleeing anywayz tysm for reading as always, and reblogs+feedback are very much appreciated ♡

© silkjade — do not steal, plagiarize, translate or repost any content onto any other platform

#wriothesley x reader #wriothesley smut #wriothesley x reader smut #genshin x reader #genshin x reader smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin thirsts #wriothesley x you #genshin x you

[sehodreams]

extra points

TW and tags: professor!Eunseok x student!reader, anxiety (lots of it, with added overthinking), pet names, reader is a crybaby, clothed humping, fluff (comforting I believe), even if everything sounds nice here, obviously a relationship with your professor is not okay (there's power imbalance just for the fact she's a student and he a professor).

WC: 5.2k

Summary: You want to always make him proud of you.

Comment: A bit self-indulgent since I've had a crush on a professor each semester and I also had anxiety when they praised me. Hope it makes other academic weapons here feel a bit seen. Also, tried to check the grammar and times, but idk, now it feels a bit robotic, please tell me if I should write everything in the past time again, just wanted to try something new. A bit ass, sorry, it feels as if I've forgotten how to write.

Staring at the words on your screen that no longer make sense, you try to calm your nerves down, except, you can’t forget the way your professor looked at you before he dismissed your group.

You want to cry, but you have already cried enough. Then you want to scream, but it's 3am and your parents will kill you. You start to ponder your last choice, kill yourself, but even in your head that’s a bit too much.

You just don’t know what to do with everything you’re feeling at that moment. Wishing you could be as nonchalant as your friends, you want to stop thinking about his disappointed face when you finished your exam, because maybe you’re overthinking it, perhaps it wasn’t even that bad.

No, you’re wrong. It wasn’t perfect, and for you, that’s already bad enough.

You try to go to sleep, that should help you. You watch the bottle of melatonin in your nightstand, so closing your laptop, you grab it, take three pills instead of one, and beg the gods you’ve never believed in to make you sleep until the next morning.

Of course, before you drift away, you set your three alarms to arrive on time to his class.

You’re used to walking there filled with anxiety. You always wonder if you’re going to have the answers he wants to hear that day, or if you did good in your last test. It’s terrible, stressful, and the knot on your chest is, for anyone else, a sign that they should chill out, but to you, is a sign that you should do better.

Your mother always says that the person who knows they’ve done everything they could has no reason to feel nervous, and that has pushed you to think you never do enough because she also says you can always do more.

It’s always been the same since that semester started, you go there filled with anxiety, you raise your hand whenever he makes a question to the public, and you feel the knot loosening with each minute that passes and with his smile when you say the correct answer.

You have to admit that, when the class finishes and he says goodbye with that proud smile, you feel as if all your stress and your time invested in reading all the material he has shared makes sense. It feels a bit good, and you’re addicted to that sensation.

He only wants you to reach your full potential. He has said it to the entire classroom, that all those articles and books he has shared are only for them to always have an answer out there in the real world. He says it to the public, but the extra material he emails you makes you feel special.

You’re special, right? He wouldn’t be going out of his way to give you more knowledge if it wasn’t like that.

When you arrive to the classroom you’re pale, and your friends try to tell you that everything will be fine to calm you down, but you can’t.

You’re spiralling into anxiety, and not because you have done bad, but because you have disappointed him.

When he dismissed you, he hadn’t smiled at you, he hadn’t shown you that happy expression he always has when you’ve met his expectations, and even more, he hadn’t said well done.

And if you weren’t his best student, you didn’t want to be there.

Not much later he arrives and tells everyone that he will share the grades in his office, so all of you should go to have a private talk with him when you have time if you want feedback, and if you don’t, the grades would be in the platform the next day.

The class goes as it usually does, smooth, and silent.

He does a couple questions, and you answer them after no one raises his hand and you leave the five-second space in case anyone else wants to talk first, so everything is as normal as it can be, but instead of feeling relaxed with the time passing, you feel worse.

One of your friends tells you to meet her in the cafeteria after you finish talking with the professor, that she will buy you a coffee to cheer you up, and you smile to pretend you’re okay, but you’re fucking not.

You feel like throwing up while walking to his office, but you haven’t eaten anything since yesterday, what would you throw up at that point?

It doesn’t take too much time for him to tell you to come in after you respectfully knock on his door two times. You hear him moving papers inside when you open the door, and when you walk in, you both say good afternoon before you sit.

He doesn’t search for anything, the paper he had in his hands was yours, as if he knew you would be the first person to go and see him.

‘’Well done’’ it’s all he says.

He gives you a sheet with your grades until that date and you want to feel relaxed because all of them look good, just one, the last one, is not the perfect grade you’re used to, by one point. Then, you look at his eyes, waiting for more words from him, anything, just something, a praise you hope.

‘’Are you okay?’’ he asks you. You don’t need to be a genius to know how your face must look at that moment, pale and unfocused, like any person at the border of fainting.

You’re not about to faint, you’re about to cry, which is even worse.

Your eyes prickle and your shoulders shake. They’re coming, and you wish they didn’t, because they’re the kind that can’t be stopped for a long time.

‘’Yes’’ you say and almost immediately you start crying. ‘’I’m sorry’’.

Eunseok’s eyes open and he circles his desk to meet you. He doesn’t know what to do to help you, you’re shaking, and your tears come out like a flood that nothing will dry.

‘’What’s wrong?’’ you feel he wants to say another word, maybe a baby, but of course, it is not appropriate.

‘’I’m sorry’’ it’s the only thing that comes out of your mouth.

It breaks him to see you like that, his best student, falling apart.

He knows a lot of things, he has a career teaching, yet he’s completely lost there with you shaking in front of him.

His hands move before he can think, which is a stupid move for someone his age, used to always thinking twice before doing anything.

He had to think about taking that position a month before he accepted. He was never one for teaching, more into working on his own. If he had to admit it, he was never into interacting with a bunch of kids even when he was a student, but you had changed his perspective, making him happy to go to work every morning you would sit in his class, knowing someone would happily answer instead of leaving him talking all alone for two hours.

‘’It’s okay’’ he murmurs, caressing your shoulders with his wide palms. ‘’You did good, what’s the problem?’’

You don’t answer him, standing and denying with your head, trying to go to the door.

Looking at your trembling lip and your furrowed eyebrows, his heart flinches, and he doesn’t let you leave, holding you in his arms instead.

Your arms wrap him back, tearing face pressed against his chest while he caresses your hair and lets you sob.

It’s so embarrassing you feel like crying even more, because what would he think of you from that moment on? So pathetic, crying like a child when you were a grown woman.

You’ve tried to look perfect for him for so long, and everything had gone to shit in just a second.

Still, you don’t want to let him go.

He is warm and comforting. His aroma is earthy, woody, manly. His hands feel good against you, one on your back, slowly patting you to soothe you, and the other on the back of your head, feeling your hair. However, the best thing has to be his voice so close to your ear, deep and calming you with the way he doesn’t shush and lets you cry as much as you want.

‘’It’s okay’’ he murmurs, letting you hug him even harder. He doesn’t want to think you’re crying because of him, but what else could be the reason for those fat tears bothering your pretty eyes? ‘’Is it me? Have I done anything to you? Am I being too much?’’ he had never thought he was pushing you that much, but now that he realizes, he had never treated another student, or person, like he had treated you. He wants to excuse himself with the thought of all the potential you have, you’re so smart, he couldn’t treat you as if you were just any student.

But in the end, he reminds himself, you’re just a student. He doubted you had even worked once in your life, because no one working or that thought about other things that weren’t his classes would be able to keep up with everything he was giving you.

You denied his questions, even if it was, you couldn’t tell him it was because of him. It was because of you and your stupid head not letting you sleep with the thought of disappointing him.

‘’No’’ you sob, and your hands grip his shirt, wrinkling the pristine fabric. ‘’It’s just me, I’m sorry’’.

His arms get tighter around you, almost too much. You sniffle to make your cries stop. ‘’It’s okay, I’m sorry too’’ he says because you hadn’t said out loud, but he knows you’re like that because of him.

‘’Please don’t treat me differently’’ you beg because you don’t want him to change. You want to continue receiving his emails with more work, you want him to keep having expectations of you, and you want him to keep being proud of you.

You want to be special to him because he’s special to you. You weren’t like that for any other professor, and not any other treated you like that either.

You have good grades with everyone else, but none of them make you want to give all of you to their courses. You do exactly what’s necessary and then you leave it there. But, again, none of them were him.

It’s not something that you wanted that to happen.

The ability to follow him with your eyes, concentrating on every of his moves while your hands moved on your keyboard on their own was something that had developed with time, like your feelings for him, and everything started with that silly smile gifted to you when you made him a question about something you hadn’t understood in one of the articles.

‘’It’s the first time anyone has asked me about it, I had started to think no one read the material’’ he had said, innocently smiling at you, no idea forming in his head about what your insides felt when he showed it to you.

Everyone said that he was evil, grading all his students without compassion and telling them without an ounce of fear if they didn’t meet his expectations. He said there was only one person who did good in his class all the time, and everyone (including you) knew who that person was even if he didn’t say the name. All that had made you feel things you shouldn’t for him.

Another knock on his door startles you two, and you have to move apart. He looks at you, and one of his hands goes to your cheek to clean the gleaming left by the tears, but you’re faster and clean your eyes with your hands before you say you should leave, not giving him time enough to say anything.

The same afternoon everyone starts to get anxious in the group chat and you silence them. The student who saw you running out of his office says that you were crying, so everyone believes that you flunked, and if you did bad, none of them had hope to even pass.

When your friend calls you and asks why you were crying you say that it was nothing, just stress, and that you didn’t do as bad as everyone thinks.

She believes you because, of course, you're a good girl and you don't have a reason to lie. You have no reason to feel you’ve done anything wrong, but you feel as if you had done something you shouldn’t.

First, you were embarrassed for crying in front of him, but if you had done only that, you doubted you would be having that pressure in the pitch of your abdomen. Then, you recognized what you were feeling, desire, and you definitely shouldn't be feeling that towards your professor.

It’s weird, even if it’s not okay for you to feel that way, you admit to yourself that it felt good to be held by him. He shouldn’t have hugged you, you know that, and you fool yourself thinking it was the only thing he could’ve done in that situation and that he’d have done it with anyone too.

When you receive his email with the extra material you notice that there’s less than usual and that he has written something extra apart from the typical small message listing the titles with a Best regards, Dr. Song.

He starts with a Miss next to your name, and you read it with his voice, hearing him close, just like when he whispered next to your ear. If there is any occasion in which my office or advice is needed, please do not hesitate to come to me, my door is always open.

You don’t know what to say.

You want to say thank you, but an apology feels more correct, and just like in those exams in which you get points deducted for answering wrong, you prefer to not answer at all.

The next class, you sit way in the back, and you don’t answer any of his questions after your five-second stop, to what other students, not daring to let the silent tension stay, start to give short unsatisfactory answers that make Eunseok nod instead of proudly smile.

By the end of it, you slip out of the room with your friends, which is unusual for them since they’re used to waiting for you in the cafeteria.

‘’Don’t you have any question today?’’ one of them asks you.

‘’Not today’’ you say with the excuse of not feeling good, walking faster for them to follow you.

You feel ashamed every time you’re in front of him. The sensation of his arms around you keeps replying in your head, and you shiver when you hear his voice in your head at night. You want him in a way you shouldn’t, and it doesn’t feel like an innocent crush anymore.

You can only continue like that for two more classes before he calls your name and asks you to stay back.

Your friends don’t ask anything, but they direct a suspicious sight at you two. They had joked before saying that you two had a love quarrel when you didn’t answer his questions the second time, which had started to feel weirdly real.

‘’Don’t be silly’’ you laugh. ‘’I just don’t want to stress myself more than necessary anymore.’’

What you say makes sense in everyone’s ears, you really had to chill out, especially after that last crisis.

You nod at them, and they leave without question.

You stay away enough from him, waiting for him to talk. He sees it and sighs, shoving papers into his portfolio without a second look.

‘’I can’t help but notice there’s something different in your participation in class’’ he says. ‘’And I’m sure is related to what happened in my office.’’

‘’Nothing happened Sir, I just haven’t been feeling good’’ you don’t entirely lie. You can’t seem to function around him anymore, even in that moment, you have to resist the need of pressing your thighs to stop that need you’ve developed for his touch since that day.

When he folds his arms in front of his chest and leans back into the big desk, you gulp. He looks so fucking good you can’t pull away your eyes from the way they flex and how they look covered by his simple black shirt with the first button open.

‘’I expected more from you Miss’’ he says, and you, like instinct, feel incredibly bad again.

‘’I’m- I’m sorry’’ you say, trying to stop your eyes from prickling again.

He notices your change. It’s not hard to recognize. Suddenly, you become smaller, and you blink faster, biting the inside of your cheek.

‘’I’m not scolding you’’ he clarifies. His hand gets closer to you, touching the border of your hoodie to get your attention on him instead of the floor. You didn’t notice the way you had moved your eyes from his arms to the floor, and when you see his focused eyes on your face, you feel vulnerable. ‘’You’re my student and if you’re acting this different, I can’t ignore it’’ his eyes are on yours and his thumb and his index are still holding your clothes, playing with the fabric, ‘’I just want to know you’re okay’’.

Warmness floods you. You want to hug him again, you want him to hold you, and for him to whisper that everything is okay over your ear. No, now, you want more than a simple hug.

‘’I’ll do better Sir, I’m sorry’’ you say, and he feels you’re saying the truth this time, so he slowly nods, and his hand leaves you.

You have to gulp the whimper that wants to leave your throat after he smiles at you.

You’re fucking disgusting you tell yourself when that night you want to find relief with him in your mind.

The next days are full of pain. You want to feel him so bad you don’t even know what to do anymore. Your hands are not enough, and the hands of the boy you had let touch you on that stupid Tinder date weren’t enough either.

You had started to answer his questions in class again, lifting his mood and freeing everyone from the uncomfortable moment of having to talk to fill the silence.

‘’Did you reconcile?’’ someone jokes.

‘’We never fought to start’’ you laugh and push their shoulder to leave you alone. ‘’I just want to keep my good profile and my grades’’.

Wanting to be closer to him, you’ve even volunteered to help him grade his tests, reason why you were on his office’s couch at that moment, with a thousand papers spraddled in the little coffee table in front of you and a hand full of red tint marks.

You have less time for yourself now that you’re his little assistant, but you continue reading everything he sends you at night, feeling a bit more tired from the lack of hours of sleep.

Still, everything is worth it when you receive his texts asking for your help or when you buy yourself a cup of overly sweet coffee with the card full of coffee cash he had gifted you.

‘’For your time’’ he timidly slid the gift card to you, and you couldn’t believe your eyes because you were sure no professor gave their assistants anything at all.

You wanted to say no, and you were about to, but the wide smile on your face had been faster than your brain.

‘’I was afraid you were going to reject it’’ he laughed, showing you a new face of him you hadn’t seen before. When he truly laughs, you notice, his cheekbones become more notorious, and his grin is big, showing a bit of the gummy area of his teeth, to what you tell yourself, you wouldn’t dare to deny him anything anymore.

Waking up to the sound of your alarm, you see that it is not the alarm for waking up, but the one that tells you to go out if you don’t want to lose the bus.

You get ready quicker than ever, only brushing your teeth and running out, thanking the world that you took a late-night shower just in case.

Your look is terrible, not that you dress nicely every day, but not as bad as that day, and the world you thanked before seems to laugh at you now, making you lose your bus and making you spend money that you don’t have as cab fare.

When you arrive, you’re almost an hour late, and you don’t dare to push the door open, watching through the little window how your professor is already talking loudly inside.

Eunseok doesn’t turn to you, and you prefer that. You know that he’s exigent with times, he doesn’t even give extra minutes to people that talk too much in presentations. We have to respect everyone’s times he has said on too many occasions for you to forget.

It’s the first time you’re late to his class, and you blame yourself for not putting in more alarms when you went to sleep so late after reading the last paper he had sent you.

You don’t dare to stay there; you don’t even dare to go to the only coffee shop around to wait until your next class because you feel undeserving of spending the coffee money he had given you. You walk to the library with sad eyes and hide in the archaeology section to cry.

No one studies archaeology in your school so you cry in peace until you receive a couple of texts from your friends asking where you are and one from him.

Are you okay? you read.

Yes, I’m sorry, you reply.

Come to my office.

You knock on his door and wait for him to talk even when he has told you multiple times to just go in if you don’t hear voices inside, but you still don’t dare to do it.

‘’Come in’’ he says, and you finally open the door. You don’t walk inside as soon as he talks. He’s ruffling between documents, and you first stand and just look at him from where you are, and then, when he makes eye contact with you, you close the door behind you and give a few steps closer, leaving your bag on his coffee table before you sit in front of him. He waits for you to talk and when he notices that you won’t, he does it, ‘’What happened?’’

‘’I was late…’’ you say, ‘’It’s my fault, I’m sorry’’.

‘’But why? Did anything happen to you on the way here? I need you to talk to me, I don’t know what happened to you if you don’t’’ what he says makes sense, but you feel like saying more would be making excuses. Your parents hate excuses and have always taught you to only say what’s necessary if you’ve done something wrong. In this case, you’re sure you did something wrong.

‘’I’m sorry’’ your breath starts to get harder, and your eyes get a bit wet.

He stands up and walks to you. You think he’s going to lean on the desk like he usually does when he explains something to the room, but he surprises you by moving your seat and caging you in it, slightly bending and inspecting your face.

‘’I’ll repeat my question, and I want you to stop saying you’re sorry’’ he talks, obliging you to maintain your eyes on his with how close he is. ‘’Did anything happen to you when you were coming here?’’

‘’No’’ you answer like you can.

‘’Then what happened?’’ he asks.

‘’I-I fell asleep’’ you finally say.

He sighs, looking relieved, however, you think he sighs because that's the worst reason you could’ve given, and that makes you more embarrassed.

‘’No, wait, it’s okay’’ he smiles when your eyebrows frown to contain what he recognizes as dangerous tears with how shiny your eyes are getting. ‘’Such a crybaby’’ he laughs then, cupping the side of your cheek and cleaning one of the tears that escaped with his thumb.

‘’I’m-‘’

‘’For fucks sake, stop saying you’re sorry, you’ve done nothing to be sorry for’’ he interrupts you before you finish talking and you have to contain another sorry inside your chest. ‘’Sorry’’ he says, making you smile without knowing why. ‘’I’m just glad nothing bad happened to you, I was so worried the whole time, it’s the first time you’ve ever been absent from my class.’’

‘’I was almost an hour late’’ with his palms still on your cheeks, you felt a lot calmer, ‘’I know you don’t like late showers, so I didn’t dare to knock on the door’’.

‘’Oh doll, you should know by now that you’re always the exception.’’

He’s so tender with you, and his voice is so comforting, that you want to close your eyes and just stay with him in that position.

So, you do it, you close your eyes and exhale through your nose, feeling all anxiety disappear from your insides, and you only open them again because Eunseok is kissing you, and you can’t believe what you’re feeling.

The kiss is so soft. His lips feel perfect against yours, smooth and slightly damp. You don’t know what makes you so bold, but your hands go to his neck to not let him move away. At first it was superficial, just lips touching, to then get deeper after you showed equal eagerness.

It’s not much after, as if both of you had been needing to feel each other for a long time, that his tongue caresses your lips to make you accept him, which you do immediately.

The kiss is getting so messy that for a second, he has to breathe over your mouth. Both breaths are hot and fall over each other’s open mouths, making you let a low moan out with the sensation.

Everything is really happening, and you feel your panties get wet with his simple kiss.

He takes your breath again with a groan, making you stand from your seat to pose his hands on your back and press you against his body.

You whimper feeling his belt pinch you and his hand on your back getting lower. Your hands want to do something, so instead of staying still on his neck, they go to feel his hair.

Even his hair felt good.

Silk on your hands, you let him press his thigh on your sex, moving your hips to feel him more.

‘’Fuck, this is so not okay’’ he frowns, lips going to attack your neck while you close your eyes and let him move your hips to meet his thigh and make you more of a mess inside your pants. He stops for a minute, frowning because of how his common sense screams that what he's doing is wrong in so many aspects.

‘’No- don’t stop, please’’ you beg in a whisper. You can’t be loud, you know that what you’re doing is not okay, yet you’ve been needing him for so long, you can’t stop him, and he doesn't want either.

‘’Such a good girl, always making me so proud, fuck, I won’t be able to let you go’’ he says, retaking his past action and making you hump him with both of his hands pushing your hips back and forth his tailored pants.

They’re black, simple, elegant, like him, and you want to cry because it feels like a dream.

‘’Always being so good to me, you’re gonna cum for me like this, right?’’ he asks, biting the side of your neck, making your eyes roll with how close you are to finding your orgasm.

You can’t talk or you’ll moan, you know your body, so you bite your lip and nod while gripping onto his shirt.

His chest is big, and you can’t help but rub your own to his. There, you notice that your sports bra and your hoodie do nothing to impede your hard nipples from feeling good.

He must notice the way you desperately need his attention on your chest, so one of his hands goes from your hip to directly touch you under your shirt.

‘’My pretty girl, can’t believe I’ve endured so long without touching you’’ you can’t believe he calls you pretty when at that moment you feel you look like shit, but he proves you wrong, groping your chest with need, fondling it, to then play with your nipple. His thumb is sweeping it with experience, making you dizzy with all the stimulations together.

Your cunt clenches when you press your clit on his leg, you start to hump him on your own, setting your own pace to cum, and opening your eyes to look at his face, you see shiny white dots.

Your drunken expression makes him let a breathy laugh free, and you cum with a louder whimper the moment you see his smile directed at you.

He stops his attention on your chest and lets you ride down your high while lovingly caressing your back and holding you in his arms.

You need a minute before all clearance is back in your mind and shame starts invading you because you just… well, you haven’t fucked, but you know you’ve done a lot more than a simply making out session.

Your trembling legs and the mess inside your pants are enough proof of that. You’ve never felt anything close to that in your life, so good you had no doubt you could get easily addicted.

Shame is not enough to stop you, and feeling his erection against your abdomen, you feel bad for being the only one who has had an orgasm.

‘’I- I want to make you feel good too’’ you say, inhaling his aroma and hiding your face on his shoulder.

‘’We can’t do more…’’ his arms get tighter around you, not letting you get away before he can finish, knowing the ideas that were already forming in your head about him not wanting to touch you. ‘’Not here.’’

You nod relieved.

Your phone starts ringing, and he lets you get apart enough for you to grab it out of your pocket to see who’s calling you. It’s your alarm for your next class.

‘’Busy?’’ he asks, reading the clear Math II that appears on your screen.

‘’Nah’’ you say. You hate math, and you like Eunseok, so it’s not hard to choose between them. Shoving your phone in the back pocket of your jeans, you press your body to his and hug him again.

He laughs and his hands move from the small of your back to your ass, to where your phone is, and he gives you a soft smack on the free area.

‘’Go to class, can’t let my star student get distracted if I want to keep showing off how good you do in mine’’ he says, and you feel so happy with the idea of him talking about you with others that you become weaker in his arms. ‘’I’ll call you later.’’

You reluctantly move apart from his arms when he pushes you to the door and gives you your bag. In front of his door, before he opens it for you, he gives you a long-lasting kiss that feels more like a peck. Then, pushing you out softly, he makes you leave his office, and when you turn back to see him one last time, he’s smiling at you, which makes you smile the rest of the day too.

#riize smut #riize x reader #eunseok x reader #eunseok smut #riize fluff

[latenightdaydreams]

I have an idea that Konig was kicked out of his old apartment because his last deployment was last for years and he decided to find another place to rent a share apartment. When he opened his new apartment's door to move in, reader accidently greeted him with the biggest squirt in his life that he's ever seen =)))) (like reader didn't know he'd move in that day)

I love it, a great way to start off a new lease😈

Roommates (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List

>cw: fem/afab, masturbation

1.5k word count

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Coming back after four years of being deployed, he was greeted with a huge pile of mail. Plopping his body in his desk chair, he began to look for a new place to live. That when he finds you listing. Pets are okay, no smoking, and only one other roommate. The apartment was in a nice area too. Without going to look at the place, König messaged the tenant to apply for the available room.

When you posted the ad, you didn’t add that you’re a woman. You didn’t want people applying just to be creeps or to get harassed. When König’s application comes in, you think it sounds too good to be true. Older man, no pets, doesn’t smoke, is military so he would be deployed for months at a time, maybe years, and willing to divide the rent 40/60, him covering the larger half, since he said he is paid well. It was an incentive König was hoping would help inspire you and make you pick him since the spot was perfect for what he needs.

Flipping back and forth between König’s application and this woman your age, you feel torn. The woman would make a fun roommate, but she is a struggling artist and you don’t want to be put in a situation where you’re paying full rent WITH a roommate.

König on the other hand, while he is a man, will be gone most of the time and is willing to pay more meaning you’d be able to set aside money and finally save some.  It’s a selfish reason, but times are hard right now.

You send back a response message to König to tell him that he’s got the room. You send him the move-in date and where to pick up the key. Instantly you get a message back saying he will be about a week late to move in but will send you the money now. You phone chimes and you see your Venmo with his portion of the rent. Feeling like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders, you go back to cleaning up the apartment.

Two weeks pass and König gets back from his mission a week earlier than expected. He walks past the boxes of his belongings stacked along the wall of his office. His shoulders slumped over, exhausted from all of his recent travels. He sits at his desk, pulling off his sniper hood and opens up the email with all of the information about his new living situation. Leaning back, he lets out a deep sigh and looks at the time. Figuring it was too late he decided to wait until tomorrow to move in.

The next morning you wake up a little after 9am and make yourself breakfast. You check your emails to see if there has been any word from König. Nothing. After you eat breakfast you sit on the living room couch, wasting time. Since today is your day off you planned on getting some chores done, but you have other things on your mind.

Quickly, you stand from the couch and go to your room. Opening up your underwear drawer you grab a black bag of goodies. You open it up and pull out your favorite silicon toy before going to the kitchen sink to wash. The hot guy from your commute to work everyday comes to mind as you begin to daydream about him naked, kissing you, touching you, fucking you...

Drying off your dildo and walking back to the living room couch, you pull the throw blanket from the back of your couch and lay it down as a makeshift towel. You pull down your pants and underwear before laying back on the couch. Your fingers go to gently rub your clit while you close your eyes and begin to day dream.

Him kissing your neck lightly as his fingers circle your clit, leg twitching as you moan to him. His fingers slowly inching lower and pushing into your tight little cunt. His fingers pumping in and out quickly as he moves his lips to yours; his mouth devouring your moans. His other hand moves to your breast and begins to lightly tug at your nipple.

You open your eyes for a second and remove your fingers from your cunt and rub your arousal on the blanket underneath you. Moving your hand from your breast, you reach over and grab your dildo from the coffee table. You move yourself so you can get more comfortable, rubbing your dildo over your wet folds. Letting out a sigh, you lean back and close your eyes again.

His naked body looms over you as he rubs his erection over your wet little pussy. His hand reaches back out and begins to rub your nipple.

“You ready y/n?”

You let out a soft yes before he shoves his cock inside of you slowly, inch by inch. He begins to thrust into you quickly, the sound of your loud moans filling the room. His hand moving off of your breast so he can fuck you quicker. You reach out gripping the bedsheets and pulling them as your legs begin to tremble from his cock hitting your g-spot over and over…

König decided to only grab his duffle bag full of clothes and a few boxes for his first trip. He will be off the next few days so he has time to go back and grab his stuff, take his time moving in. He walks out to his SUV and loads up the trunk with five boxes. Sitting down, he puts the address into his GPS and begins to take off.

The building was nice, there was a park nearby and it was 40 minutes from base. That gave him a sense of privacy. He parks his SUV at the front, pulls his sniper hood off, and walks inside to go to the building manager. He welcomes König and hands him the key to the apartment that you left for him two weeks ago.

“Danke.” König takes the key and begins to walk back to his SUV to grab two boxes.

Apartment 304. König walks up the stairs and gets to his floor. He looks around the hall, doors with cute welcoming mats and small seasonal decorations giving the complex a nice homely vibe.

Your eyes still closed and hand behind your head holding on to the couch cushion as your legs are spread wide open. Your 7-inch dildo moving quickly in and out of you as you moan out, but quietly enough that the neighbors can’t hear. One of your feet moves to the coffee table to spread your legs open even more, back arching as you get close to release.

König gets to the front door, holding his boxes in one arm as he opens the front door. He hears your moans and the sound of the dildo in your pussy before you begin to squirt. His eyes glued to your pussy as he watches the impressive stream leaving you. His jaw drops and he accidently drops one of the boxes. He looks down at the box and then back up at you to see you open your eyes and look at him.

You freeze as you realize your door is open and a giant man is just standing there. You assume it’s König, but he wasn’t supposed to be here for another week. You feel as if your heart is going to explode. Your face is hot with embarrassment. Before anyone can say anything, you pull your dildo out, get up and run to the bedroom.

König stands there looking at the wet spot on the blanket and the wet mess on the floor. Your pants and underwear tossed onto the other end of the couch. He takes a deep breath and picks up the box on the ground before walking further into the apartment. He closes the door behind him and just stands there awkwardly with a boner.

You’re in your room dying of embarrassment. You don’t know what to do, you can’t face him now. Not after that. You put on underwear and pants to open your door and yell out.

“Your bedroom is the last room down the hall to the left!” Thankfully on the other side of the apartment from yours.

“Okay, thank you!” He yells back.

He walks towards his room, his eyes lingering on the mess you left behind for a moment. Finally, he makes it to his bedroom door. He opens it to see a queen size bed and two dressers. The window is letting in the bright sun. He drops his boxes on the floor and sits on the bed, looking around the room for a while.

He can’t stop replaying the scene of you squirting over and over in his mind. His hand wandered to his boner instinctively. You’re his new roommate, he doesn’t want to start the relationship off by jerking off to you. Yet, he can’t seem to stop himself as he unzips his pants and pulls them down enough to release his cock. He closes his eyes and replays your sounds and the moment over and over as he strokes his cock.

#konig #konig x reader #konig x y/n #könig #könig x reader #konig cod #konig smut #könig smut #könig cod #könig mw2 #könig x reader smut #smut #konig x reader smut #cod smut #könig x you #konig x you #könig call of duty #cod konig #könig x y/n #konig x female reader #könig x fem reader

[chaiifluuf]

That's that me espresso! — c. nakahara

synopsis. chuuya struggles to fall asleep again after thinking about you and his unexpected dreams

content. fem!reader, fluff, suggestive in one part, chuuya is lovesick and he doesn’t know it <3

notes. i don’t know if i got his character right.. i tried my best tho ! and yes this is inspired by sabrina carpenter’s song espresso hehe (*´꒳`*)

chuuya doesn’t dream. 

or well he didn’t use to because tonight was the first time he had a dream in a really long time.

the fact it wasn’t a nightmare shocked him even further and out of all things he could’ve dreamed about, it was about you. why you? he isn’t sure himself. chuuya let out a silent sigh as he rubbed his face, trying to recall everything he saw because a part of him is still in disbelief that he had an actual dream.

the first thing he remembers is you wearing a summer dress while walking at the shore of a beach. the gentle waves crashing into your bare feet as you carried your flip flops in your hand. then you turned around and your face was beaming. chuuya swore you had the happiest smile he had ever seen on you. something seems to catch your attention when you look at him.

“chuuya, your hair is in your face!” you tell him with a light giggle. as soon as you mention that, he notices how his hair strands start to obscure his sight as the wind blows from behind him. you make your way towards him as if an idea popped into your mind. “wait, stay still,” you say and swiftly move behind him while chuuya couldn’t help but blink in confusion. “what?”

you don’t say anything in return but it doesn’t take him long before he realises what you’re doing as he can feel your fingers gather his hair into one place. you were making a ponytail for him. 

“there! now it won’t be bothering you,” you say once you are done, looking at him in satisfaction and glee. chuuya touches his head for a moment, not used to having it like that. it indeed felt nicer. he thanked you before the two of you start walking again.

“no problem. you look really good with a ponytail too…” you mumble the last part and chuuya almost misses it. he glances at you, about to say something and he’ll never know what because that was the moment he woke up.

chuuya believes there was probably more going on in the dream but this is as far as he remembers. he casts a look to the side, scanning over the clock that reads 2:56 am. there is more than enough time to get his much needed sleep. because it is a rare occurrence for him to not be exhausted from a usual workday, he’ll take any bit of rest he can get. 

with that in mind, chuuya shifts his body to the other side and closes his eyes, a soft exhale leaving his lips. it was just a silly dream and he will forget it soon enough anyway. although he still doesn’t quite understand why you were there. you were one of the closest people to him, he’ll admit that. you knew him better than most people and he has lost count at how many times you have made his day so much better. the two of you were good friends and that’s it. yeah, this is fine.

except it isn’t.

falling asleep turns out to be a much more difficult task than he anticipated. he isn’t even that tired anymore which did not help. chuuya’s mind is still stuck on his damned dream. he can’t help but picture again your radiant smile, how your hair blew in the wind, the way you stared at him and that pretty dress… he quickly shaked his head to snap out of it. he can’t believe himself. chuuya decides to get up and find something to distract himself since he couldn’t sleep now anyway.

he wished that would’ve been the one and only time he dreamed of you. this was the third time in the week that he hasn’t slept well. all of them had you in it and at this point chuuya thinks something is wrong with him. how does anyone dream about the same person so many times in such a short time? 

chuuya groans into his pillow as he suspects yet another badly slept night. of course you were on his mind once more. he is glad that these aren’t nightmares but at the same time he doesn’t know how to feel about these dreams either. he’s also shocked by just how vividly he remembers all of them. 

in the second dream, chuuya was at a restaurant with you. if he’s going to be honest then it felt like a date. the dimmed lights, the romantic atmosphere, a lit up candle placed on the middle of the table and two glasses filled halfway with red wine. he still remembers the simple yet elegant carmine dress you were wearing. your gaze was filled with so much warmth and adoration that he felt his heart falter. then you laughed at something he said and god your laughter seemed sweeter than the desserts the two of you were having.

the entire time his eyes were stuck on you as if you were the most breathtaking person he had ever come across. and you were. while the conversation was hazy to him, the scene of you intertwining your fingers with his was still clear in his mind. your rosy cheeks afterwards made you look even prettier. thinking about it alone made chuuya’s heart rate fasten.

the third dream however, the one he had tonight, was a different story. because with each time these dreams seem to get bolder and chuuya doesn’t know how to handle it. 

you were pushed against the bed with him hovering over you. he was kissing you and they weren’t some kind of gentle kisses either. more like they were filled with desire, need and many other strong emotions he couldn’t pinpoint. he pulled away for a moment, his lips still brushing against yours. your hair had gotten rather messy, your lipstick was smeared and it was obvious that you were breathless as he could feel your breath on his skin. 

“chuuya, please…” he couldn’t fight back the shiver that went down his spine when he heard your pleading voice. your arms were wrapped around his neck as you held him close. his lips slowly trail down from your lips and he can’t help but start sensually kissing your neck. chuuya relished the soft noises that left your lips.

“want you s’bad,” you murmured to his ear and chuuya swears his heart skipped a beat. were you even aware of the effect you had on him? “i’m right here, doll.” his tone was low and husky as one of his hands sneaked below your shirt, lifting it up as he traced your waist. he didn’t miss the subtle tremble of your body when his bare hand came in touch with your abdomen. god your skin was so soft and your flushed face was the most adorable sight. he grinned before going for your lips again and then—

chuuya can feel his face heat up as he realised what he was thinking. he buried his face into the pillow once again because that was just a little too intimate. and goddamn it, he feels like a schoolgirl who just talked to her crush for the first time.

why the fuck is this happening to him?

he hasn’t seen you in a while since both of you were busy with your missions lately. you did text him though, and even if he always didn’t have the time to respond, you liked talking to him about your day as well as your frustrations at times. chuuya didn’t mind and when he had a chance would type you back. with a lot of things going on, you and him were still in touch. so are his dreams supposed to be some kind of sign to see you again?

if only you knew how much you have driven him insane. he needs to do something, anything to get these dreams out of his head. a night with actually good rest does sound nice right now. however he won’t get that, not tonight at least. suddenly chuuya gets an idea. a stupid idea perhaps, but he believes he will only continue to suffer if he won’t do anything about it. he grabs his phone from the bedside table and opens the messages app.

Me 4:03 am

you up?

chuuya sighs, there is no going back now. he hopes you’re asleep but a small part of him wishes you would respond because he has no idea what to do at this point. five minutes later, he hears his phone vibrate.

Y/n 4:08 am

mhm, something wrong?

his eyes slightly widen in surprise. so you were awake. for a moment he thinks what to text back.

Me 4:09 am

not really, just can’t sleep

Y/n 4:09 am

what a coincidence haha

now that i think about it i still haven’t seen your motorcycle that you promised to show me one day

maybe wanna meet up? ^ ^

chuuya’s mind pauses because this might be exactly what he needs — to see you again. without thinking too much he starts typing.

Me 4:10 am

sure

i’ll come and pick you up

Y/n 4:11 am

YAYY 

i’ll see you then!! 

he can’t help but smile a little. a genuine smile that he hasn’t had in a while. he quickly changed his clothes, locked his apartment and began making his way to the garage. 

he might never admit it but even with you in his dreams, he still missed you. the real you.

fun fact: initially, i had put a winky face after the “i’ll come and pick you up” text but then decided against it bc i’m still not sure if he would do that LMAO

#𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ maeve writes . 🖋️ #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x you #bsd chuuya #chuuya nakahara #chuuya x you #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya x reader #chuuya x y/n #chuuya x fem!reader #chuuya fluff

[suempu]

hiiii could you write some nsfw headcanons for chilchuck with a reader who’s insecure about their body?

gn + implied human! reader + kinda dominant chilly chuckles

<3

oh my, that man is not good with emotions. one of his flaws is that he’s kind of bad at dealing with them since they leave him in a vulnerable state. it was no secret that he’s emotionally constipated, his past wife left him because of that.

but ever since you came along, chilchuck has been slowly improving, not wanting a repeat of what happened. he’s acknowledged that by loving someone, he needs to be able to be open with his feelings and become mindful of yours.

once you work up the courage to tell him, he visibly stiffens up. chilchuck is silent for a few seconds, he really wasn’t expecting this while he was kissing you up.

he spends a few moments awkwardly fiddling with the buttons of his half done shirt as he thinks of the right words to say.

“…. i… don’t really care about what you look like.”

okay. he could’ve worded that better.

“i-i mean! i enjoy being with you… for who you are.”

chilchuck’s biting his lip, looking at you hesitantly as he reaches a hand out to you. he’s looking anxious before you wrap your arms around his shoulders.

he yelps as he’s tucked into your chest, letting out a sigh of relief that you don’t seem upset. you pull away and look down at him with a smile.

“you suck at this.”

“i know.” he sends you a grin.

placing one hand around you, he pushes you gently to sit on the bed. he stands in front of you and holds your face, nuzzling into your nose which brings a laugh out of you.

“i know i’m bad at… this kind of stuff but i meant what i said.” he looks at you seriously, big ears twitching as hair strands falls to his face, rough and messy after your heated lip-lock earlier.

“i’m nothing but an old, brooding man. i love the way you make me feel and i want… you to l-love how i make you feel…. regardless of what you look like.”

he can see how you’re biting back a snicker as he tries to get his act together. chilchuck can feel his face getting hotter as he hears your bubbling laughter. but he’s glad you’re less nervous as before.

“y-you think this is real funny, do ya?” he yells out.

he’s kinda grumpy after all that, feeling a bit embarrassed that you laughed at him. after a few kisses smothered on to his face, he slowly gets back into the mood, making sure to pay extra attention to your reactions.

if you ever cover yourself up, he will give you a peck while slowly taking your hands off and whispering reassuring phrases.

he will kiss down your body as he keeps his eyes on you, forcing you to watch him. when he finds out which part makes you insecure the most, chilchuck will leave open mouthed kisses and suck a hickey on it.

with his enhanced hearing and senses, your quiet whimpers and gasps gets him going as he touches and feels you thoroughly with his fingers.

since this is your first time being intimate together as a couple, he makes sure to treat you softly and gently. he’s attentive to the spots that make you moan out the most, notices how you grip the sheets harder when he licks and sucks on a certain area. all of them noted in his head so he can figure out what else you’ll like.

chilchuck groans breathily, he’s kind of ashamed to lose control of himself, thinking it’d only embarrass himself.

“am i not making you feel good..?”

“where did this come from?”

“you don’t… make as much noises as i do. i’m wondering if i’m not doing enough.”

once he hears your reason, he immediately rushes to assure you. though still a bit hesitant, he’ll try to let go more the next time you’ll get intimate.

can i just say he’s skilled at giving oral. his hands and fingers can take you to god and back once he finally finds out what specific things you like. he loves being all in there, loves your smell, your sounds, your fluids.

he doesn’t say it out loud though. which makes you wonder why he keeps asking if you could fuck his face whenever you two do it.

“is this some sort of kink of yours?”

“just say yes or no!”

after one round, he can get pretty spent. but if you’re still needy, he can muster some energy to make love to you slowly.

oh, and he lives for lazy morning sex. sometimes you’ll wake up to him kissing down your shoulder and arm, whispering small ‘wake up’s to your buzzing ears.

aftercare with him is… well, lazy too. he’ll drop to your side, breathless as he stares up at the ceiling. after a few moments he’ll sit up and look down at you on the bed, whispering sweet praises as he holds your face.

he’ll smoke for a bit, facing away from you. he doesn’t want you to cough from the smoke after all.

drags you to the bathroom after a few moments. he hates being sweaty and you’ll have to kill him before you force him to snuggle right after sex.

chilchuck just doesn’t like feeling gross, he’d want to be clean as soon as possible. he will fuss over you during bathing. divorced father of three but with the way he’s acting makes him look like a mother.

he will scrub you down to the bone but will be less aggressive if you tell him it makes you uncomfortable.

“put your clothes in the basket, dry your hair, make sure you brush your teeth properly.”

“i always do! follow your own advice, you alcoholic.”

“i will drown you in this tub.”

what a nice and loving man, am i right

after bath time, he’ll lay on his side with nothing on but some underwear. his arm is around your torso as you fall asleep while he watches you with a soft smile, fingers tracing soft shapes on to your skin.

8/10 for being emotionally constipated but an A+ for trying. (i’m kidding he’s great)

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #chilchuck tims #chilchuck x reader #dunmeshi #delicious in dungeon x reader #dunmeshi x reader #dungeon meshi x reader #chilchuck tims x reader

[befemininenow]

This caption is so self-explanatory, I don’t even need to write a description (well, except this sentence).

Today’s Woman Crush Wednesday is the first of the month and it’s also one I’ve been wanting to share. You’ve seen this woman before and you’ll probably still see pictures of her for years to come. Wanna know what’s her name? It’s Nicole Meyer.

Originally from South Africa, she is an international model garnering over hundreds of photo shoots for various editorials and has a hobby of traveling around the world. She also has a following of over hundreds of thousands on pages such as Instagram.

I have a collection of Nicole Meyer pics and they are all so amazing! Perhaps one of her most notable photoshoots, however, is this one. They’ve been used on feminization captions for years now and I don’t think you will see any slowdown of people sharing these captions. At 32 (soon to be 33 this year 2024), she is just as stunning as ever and is perhaps in one her best time periods of her life. It’s safe to say you’ll be seeing more of her for years to come.

This is the highest resolution pic I’ve ever done and is perhaps one of my favorite of all time.

#feminization captions #transgender #trans captions #future is female #you are valid #captions

[jocelynscrazyideas]

Coffee Breath | Quinn Hughes x Fem Reader

Summary: Quinn and Y/N go to Starbucks and Target after Team practice, and they prep for the Hughes Brawl that is being played in 4 hours.

Warnings: language, and only one kiss (it’s a peck)

A:N- I hate this sm but I needed to post smth 🫶

All i know is that you talk to much

You’ve got those big blue eyes

Drive me crazy, make me fantasize

‘Bout you baby

After team practice before the next game, Quinn and I leave the rink and we pick up some coffee. Quinn is wearing a letter this year on his jersey so, he has to take his body seriously now. All he does is workout. I’ve been dragging him to get coffee with me, just like it was in the past.

“You wnat your Gingerbread Oatmilk Chai?” Quinn says as he looks into my eyes. All I see is his light blue eyes, almost as if they were grey.

I look to his right eye, and to his left, then down to his lips, I love him. He sees my trick, and he grabs my thigh, as he moves his fingers into my warm special place.

He’s such a cunt.

“Yeah, the chai is perfect. And could I get a Gouda sandwich- the one I like.” I say as we pull into the Starbucks drive through. He turns his head as he pulls his blue hood off his head.

Said you can’t trust me

I said it’s fine.

I’m wearing the perfect outfit. Black leggings, pink sports bra, and of course Quinn’s hoodie. My shoes, are also his, they’re wayy too big, but they’re just crocs. Quinn, in the drivers seat wearing a blue hoodie, black sweatpants, and his grey slides. We’re matching. I love him.

“Mobile order for Maya Ray.” Quinn says as he looks at me with a smirk. Maya- which isn’t my name, and Ray- is also not my name nor his name. We use fake names, out of our safety, and for fun. He pulls up to the second window and he grabs the Iced Chai and swings his arm to me, and he also grabs the sandwich I asked him to get me.

“Don’t get crumbs in my car. I’ll kill you.” Quinn snaps out at me.

What an actual cunt.

“Cuntasaurus.” I say underneath my breath. I grab the drink and the sandwich and place the chai into my lap. I unwrapped my sandwich and started to bite in.

“Do you have change?” Quinn asks. Weird. He payed online, he doesn’t need more money- unless he’s going to leave a tip. Then I thought that he could already leave a tip online.

“Why.” I say in response, only after I remembered to answer his question. I was lost into thought that I literally forgot to respond.

“So I can leave a tip, I forgot to tip online.” sure. I think to myself, I know he’s lying, he’s a freaking millionaire, he should have at least $10 freaking dollars on him.

“Yep.” I say and grab my phone case. I pull the $20 out and hand it to the lady, only because I know if I gifted it to Quinn, that money wouldn’t make it to the tip jar.

“I could have done that.” Quinn says snapping at me… again.

“Well obviously not.” I say as I open the middle console that splits our seats apart. I pull out $100 dollars and shove it in his face.

a side eye is all I get in response from him.

“Shocker. You know where my money is.” Quinn says after we turn into the parking lot of a target about 10 minutes later.

he’s literally the sassiest man I’ve ever fucking met. He’s… so, teenage boy. Literal brain rot. We need to pick up some groceries so I made a list of things that I needed. Of course I made a list of things that again only I need.

“So, why did you need to stop at Target?” Quinn says as he finds the farthest fucking parking spot there is. God, he better carry me back out here. I look into his blue eyes again, he literally drives me crazy, I can smell his cologne, and that makes me insane.

He smells like flowers, but in a masculine way. It’s hard to describe, he’s just so beautiful. It’s just a normal day for us, but it’s THE Hughes brawl. New Jersey Devils vs Canucks in Vancouver.

I’m excited, but no matter what I’m going to be proud, I’ve known Luke for the longest of times, and even before I met Luke and Wuinn I was friends with Jack.

“You coming?” Quinn says as he opens my door and grabs my left ass cheek. Let’s just say his love language is physical touch, he’s really touchy, clingy and childish, but so am I.

“Yep. Also Quinner-” I say before he freaking cuts me off.

“I know. you always make your own list. Never something that I would need, it’s always oh, what do I need? And oh, I ran out on shampoo, better get ME some.” Quinn says as he mocks me. He’s such an ass. But an ass taht I love.

Again as he swipes his right arm under my butt, he grabs my back with his left arm, and he tips over to the left as he swoops me into his arms and over his shoulder. Quinn pulls my leggings over my red lacy thong that I’m wearing under.

“I hate when you do that.” Quinn states as he closes my door and locks the car. He grabs my hand and we walk to the the doors of the store.

“Do what?” I say in actual confusion.

“You tease me, then you follow up with that with oh, I’m too tired and sorry I’m not in the mood.”

Quinn seems really upset, which is why I love to do it. I pull my hoodie down over my butt and I get an cloud of Quinn. I love him. I really do.

I’m hit with this wave of horny desperation.

“Hey, give me a kiss. Please!!” I say as I stop him and we stand in the middle of the parking lot. I stand on my tiptoes and wrap my arms around his neck. I look deep into his eyes in pleading guilt.

“I know what you’re doing.” He says, he’s convinced that I’ll do the thing.

“Omg, just kiss me.” I say. But he won’t. So I grab his hand, and pull him back to the car, and I grab his keys form his pocket and unlock the doors.

“Please. Quinn I’m ready. Right now.” And I pull him into the backseat.

I pull at his silver chain that I bought him, its charm is a heart, and the back of the heart is a photo of us. When we were like 16.

“Please. Don’t. Not right now.” Quinn says as he pushes up agisnt me. I feel him getting hard. There’s truly a tent being built in his sweatpants.

“We have like 4 hours until the next game. We have time.” I say as I look into his neck ready to make a move. I can feel his pulse penetrating from his artery.

“No.” Quinn’s consistent with his answer. And I respect it. So I climb into the passenger seat and I forget about the target trip in general. And he climbs back into the drivers seat as well. And he pulls my cheek towards him. And he leans in for a kiss.

Taste like coffee.

#jocelynscrazyideas #umich hockey #hockey #nhl #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #umich #vancouver canucks #🍇🍇🍇

[ovaryacted]

STORY OF US | CH. 2 - RISKS

PAIRING: DI! Leon Kennedy x fem! reader

SYNOPSIS: A normal Friday night out for drinks with your mentor. What could possibly go wrong?

CONTENT/WARNINGS: MDNI/18+. Canon-adjacent. DSO Mentor/mentee dynamic. Forbidden work relationship. Age gap (Leon is 38, reader is 25). Reader has their own background & lore. Leon & reader have an established working relationship of 4 years (nothing was done until later). Eventual smut. Drinking. Flirting. Smooching. (Sorry to the French, you got lashings from me oops).

WC: 5.8K

A/N: This chapter was a pain to write, but I'm just glad it's done. Had to reupload it because Tumblr is stupid. Thank you to @notrattus for beta-reading this again, hugs and kisses. As always, likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST | AO3

Dim lighting and mellow music surround you in the local bar downtown. It was a place you often frequented after work, along with other D.S.O. agents from time to time. The space was quaint, the drinks were cheap, and the additional comfort of coming with a familiar face made the night easygoing. You noticed the group of rookie agents that crowded the pooltable towards the back of the bar, their boisterous laughter filled the room with a lively energy that was desperately needed after today’s events.

“Seems like they’re having fun,” you muttered under your breath, sipping away at your second bottle of beer. Leon sat next to you, glancing over his shoulder to peek at the group of agents off to the side, most of them acting like they didn’t have a care in the world.

“Some of them are being too friendly with each other, don’t you think?” He gestured his head towards the opposite side of the room, lining his lips with his bottle of non-alcoholic beer.

“Now you know that’s none of our business. They’ll go home, forget what happened, and fight two days later. Let them have their fun while they can,” you said with a breathy laugh, Leon following you after.

Seeing the young rookies messing around brought a feeling of envy, silently wishing you had that experience. The ability to explore and socialize with others was a privilege you didn’t have when you were younger, a result of both your sheltered childhood and the premature start of your career in government service. It wasn’t in the cards for you, deemed “off limits” the moment you were put into federal custody as a teenager, and later extended once you were Leon’s responsibility.

In this life, you had limited opportunities to think of anything other than work, so whenever there was a breakthrough, you held on to it tightly until you had a chance to break free. Leon eyed you quietly as you sat deep in thought, having half a mind to figure out what you were contemplating.

“Wish you could join in, huh?” He asked curiously.

“Nah, that ship has sailed long ago,” you shrugged, motioning to the bartender that you were ready for another drink.

Already down two beers, you craved something stronger, ordering a whiskey on the rocks, Johnnie Walker Black. You watched as the bartender poured the amber liquid into a glass, handing it to you with a wink before tending to the other patrons waiting for service. Bringing the cup to your mouth, you took a light sip of the drink, humming at the silky taste of malt with notes of vanilla and honey gracing your tongue. Like a portal back in time, you were 22 again with your mentor giving you a lesson in “real drinking”, his voice ringing in your head as he introduced you to one of your vices.

 “This is a bottle of Johnnie Walker Black. If you want something cheap and smooth that does the job, this will do it. You won’t find a bar that doesn’t have this on hand, and if they don’t move, to another.”

“I’ve been out with you enough times that I got used to the calm nights. Rowdy stuff isn’t for me anymore. Sometimes though, I catch myself thinking about it all, the what ifs, not that it matters really,” you swallowed another sip along with your pride. Being sheltered from the outside world meant sacrificing life experiences you believed you were deserving of, including relationships and dating. It was the price you had to pay for being the D.S.O’s prodigy.

“You’re telling me they kept you cooped up for so long you didn’t have time for anything? Not even dating?” Leon wondered, recalling when he first received your file in his hand, how much you resembled a government lapdog more than he ever did.

“Relationships are kind of hard to maintain when you look and act like you’ll rip someone’s head off any moment." Chuckling bitterly at the question, you looked directly into your glass and swirled the liquid around absentmindedly, the soft clinks of the ice cubes pulling you into a trance.

“Not something that’s been on my priority list. Gotta stay focused on the job, on getting things done. You know better than anyone that relationships are a distraction at most, a big liability.” You met Leon’s eyes for a second and returned to pick at the polished wooden countertop of the bar.

Truthfully, you were reiterating things that have been drilled into your head for as long as you could remember. It was how you adapted to manage the world around you. Remaining focused on your role and position, never venturing off too far from the norm, always following the grain. That was what you knew. It made sense, committing yourself to your duty and leaving little room for anything else in your life was what the D.S.O demanded of you, to keep you rooted in the status quo they’ve built centered around their goals for the organization.

Deep down, you wanted an intimate bond but felt too intimidated to get into one. You wished to feel another body’s warmth but were deemed too closed off to experience it. You wanted to feel the touch of another person beyond obligation but assumed it wasn’t worth your attention. You believed that you couldn’t want more because you were never given a chance to explore it. That may have been something you wanted, but it was easier to shut the idea out and pretend not to care about the emptiness you felt in your chest.

Leon knew what that felt like, that mentality had been his truth for so long that he thought he was a lost cause.

“It doesn’t have to be like that, not forever anyway,” he told you, trying to lift your spirits despite knowing there was some truth to what you confessed.

“You’re talking to someone that has been in a legal guardianship for years. Trust me, I don’t have the luxury of keeping relationships like that,” you stated, glimpsing again toward the newbies to see some of them kissing and placing bets, cheering loudly with drinks in their hands. You blocked out the noise, swallowing the rest of your liquor in one gulp, hissing at the slight burn of the whiskey going down your throat.

“It’s fine either way, not necessarily a bad thing in my eyes. Just how it is.” You called for the bartender again, getting another refill on your drink. In the back of his mind, Leon was probably growing worried, but he knew better than to tell you how to enjoy your night. This will be your last one, keeping your promise of lightening up on the alcohol tonight.

Witnessing the rookies socialize was a painful reminder of what you could never have. It bothered you, and while you kept it to yourself, Leon caught on to your train of thought. The years that you lost to your job made it difficult to look forward to anything beyond fighting bioweapons, if you managed to live long enough to get a different outcome. The flings you did partake in were enough to release some physical tension and keep you busy, but they were nothing substantial or worth remembering.

“That’s how you put yourself in this mindset. You believe that it’s how it needs to be, not realizing that it doesn’t have to be like that at all,” Leon replied, wanting you to understand that you deserved more, even if he doesn’t think the same for himself. 

“Really? Then tell me Mr. Casanova, why haven’t you settled down yet?” You asked him now, the alcohol kicking into your system and clearing any filter you had, which was already zero to none.

You knew he meant well, he always did, but flipping the inquiry back to him was a way to deflect and change the subject. You didn’t want to be the center of attention, much less your love life to be the main topic of the conversation, this way it was easier to run from the truth.

“How come I never see you with someone? You are reaching that age,” you squinted in his direction.

“Are you calling me old?” Leon scoffed at what you were implying.

“Nope, just saying you’re reaching settling down on a ranch with 3 kids and a dog age. No biggy.” You threw your hands up in fake innocence, lips curling into a grin.

“Hmmm, a ranch doesn’t sound too bad…” His expression matched your own, giving you a glance out of the corner of his eye to catch the way yours rolled back. 

“Yeah yeah, can you focus back on my question now?” You lightly shoved him on the arm. 

“I just never found someone I wanted to date, someone who shares my interests, who can be by my side through thick and thin. Someone I can call my best friend and partner. That’s why. Oh, and there is the fact that the D.S.O keeps me busy so I’m too preoccupied saving the world and what-not,” he finishes his speech with another sip of his non-booze.

“Oh, you want the whole package? Mr. Kennedy with his set list of qualifications. I didn’t expect anything less from you,” you snickered at him, drinking more of your whiskey in the process.

“You may be busy but that doesn’t mean you don’t fool around no? Cmon, you can tell me. I’m a big girl, I can handle the drama,” poking at him for fun, you grew curious to know more about Leon’s love life if he had one. The conversation started to flow better, on par with the alcohol that coursed through your veins.

“Maybe,” Leon didn’t react much to you, casually nursing his bottle with a smug smile. He was having fun watching how you behaved when you were on the brink of being tipsy, gasping out in playful shock at his confession. After all, toying with you was one of his favorite pastimes.

“Are you fucking serious? This feels scandalous.” Dramatic in your response, you smacked Leon’s arm as you couldn’t wipe the smirk off of your face.

“Never would’ve anticipated that from you. You don’t give me those vibes.” You joked more with him, not taking his reply seriously considering it was something so farfetched you didn’t see it as reality. Your mentor and your friend, sleeping around, who would’ve thought? Well, many would have, he was a grown man who had free will. 

“Maybe you should’ve,” he said, his face lighting up at the banter. “You don’t think I need a little fun in my life now and then? I have needs too,” he teased you back, finding your lack of ability to believe him amusing.

“Frankly, I thought you didn’t have it in you to speak to women in the first place. Now I’ve been proven wrong. I’ve known you for 4 damn years and I’m just now figuring this out? Unbelievable.” Dumbfounded at this new revelation, you shook your head with another chuckle.

“But hey, I don’t blame you. You get yours, at least someone has to," finishing your whiskey, you tapped your nails alongside the glass. You were given the chance to see two sides of Leon that were usually hidden from most people, his professional side that was more reserved, and this friendly side that was only accessible to those very close to him, you being one of them. 

“And who’s to say that you haven’t done anything either?” His grin widened more, not needing much to know that you had your fair share of fun over the past couple of years, but that was merely speculation.

“Now you’re trying to flip the script on me? That’s mean,” catching on to his tricks, the conversation began to deviate into unfamiliar territory.

“Besides, that’s for me to know and for you to never find out,” you turned to face him completely with a playful pitch in your voice.

Leon observed you, fully taking you in, and for the second time since he’d met you, he really saw you. The way your silhouette curved as you leaned into the bar, your arm bending at the elbow to prop your head up and look at him with a mischievous smirk on your face, and your eyes. God your eyes. Just the slightest bit hazy as you hit the precipice of being inebriated, focused only on him.

You looked pretty.

The thought came into his head one second and out the next, instantly taking a larger sip of his lukewarm beverage to wash it down and tuck it into the recesses of his mind where it was safe. He wished he could drink something stronger, but non-alcoholic beer will have to suffice for now.

“Oh really? Are you hiding something from me? You have that twinkle in your eye,” he didn’t mean for it to come off as flirty, but if you were paying enough attention you would’ve caught it anyway. You did.

“I don’t know, am I? You tell me, Leon,” you contested as if this were some sort of game, reciprocating his prior tone. The energy between the two of you was shifting into something new, something unfamiliar. 

Messing around with other D.S.O. agents was almost frowned upon, but that didn’t mean it never happened, nor did the rules stop anyone from breaking them in the first place. Neither of you ever flirted with each other before, didn’t even remotely think about it when you were in the same room together. The relationship you had was strictly professional and platonic, a bond that took years of trust to develop. Yet all of a sudden, it felt like you were both charting into the unknown.

Leon raised an eyebrow at you, not believing what he was hearing for a moment. His head tilted to the side as he analyzed your expressions, trying to get a read on you and predict where your head was at.

“You are, aren’t you?” His gaze flicked over your figure for the faintest second before focusing on your face again. You caught that too.

Leon was older than you, with more experience under his belt than most of his peers. He was your supervisor, your teacher, and someone who has been taking care of you, making sure you made it out of every mission alive and in one piece. He shouldn’t be entertaining this, but he couldn’t find it in him to stop. It felt exciting, something he never thought he would even consider.

“Maybe,” you mimicked his earlier comeback, mirroring the tilt of his head. You stared at him, no doubt noticing the curiosity in his eyes and how he was left wondering for more. He always saw you as someone he admired, someone he trusted and could work well with. Now? The lines that were put in place to pre-define your role in his life never looked so gray.

“I said I don’t do relationships. That doesn’t mean I don’t do other things.” Your words grew more suggestive as the exchange progressed, the tension becoming palpable between the two of you for the very first time.

“What other things do you do?” Leon didn’t even try to suppress his interest, wanting an answer to something he shouldn’t be concerned with. He’s considered it way back when, thought about how you engaged with other agents in the D.S.O., if you allowed them to get close enough. Whether it was in a professional manner or more, that was for him to figure out.

“I think you know Leon,” you toyed with him, unintentionally seducing him and leaving much to the imagination. You were enjoying this, and you knew you shouldn’t be. Messing around with your mentor and friend of all people? Sure, it might bite you in the ass later on, but you didn’t want it to end.

“What? Did you think I was a saint?” You asked him then, the rhetorical question throwing Leon in for a loop. 

Were you a saint? He found himself genuinely thinking about it, sitting in silence and letting your words hang in the air. His mind went blank, at least in terms of dialogue, but internally he was fighting every sudden urge to picture you in a completely different light. He was reading your body language, your personal morse code, a language he’s studied for years now left him in the dark for misinterpretation. His resolve was cracking, and his growing attraction to you filled his body with an electric rush he couldn’t brush off.

It scared the shit out of him.

“No…” Leon replied, not knowing why that was what slipped out of his mouth but it was the first thing that came to mind. 

“So I’m not a saint?” Another hypothetical question, the truth is you were far from that. In your youth, you used to be a fairly reckless person, getting around without caring much about the consequences of your actions. It was the only thing you felt you had control over, so in an act of rebellion, you indulged in it whenever you could. As you got older, your antics diminished, when really, you just got more selective about who you picked for a good time.

“Then what am I?” You challenged him, leaning a bit closer with this tantalizing energy that was never directed towards Leon up until this point. He’s seen you use your sweet talking for missions where you were undercover in rare instances, considering you didn’t enjoy flirting for the sake of getting information. He wondered about what the men who have been in his place must’ve thought of you, if their perception matched his. 

You didn’t know if you were being intentional with your flirting or if you were simply bored and riding the current wave of entertainment. This was fun to you, a game of sorts, but it was bad enough that you liked this. Openly flirting with your mentor who was 13 years your senior shouldn’t make you feel this buzzed, and yet the guilt seemed to be the last of your concerns.

Your words were the equivalent of pouring gasoline on a small flame that had just begun. Everything in you was enticing, and Leon felt heat rising in his whole being, a reaction he hadn’t felt in a while, a feeling he thought was long gone.

“Definitely not a saint,” he expressed with another airy chuckle. You were taunting him, and he was having trouble coming to terms with the fact that he was falling for it.

You decided to back off after that, now both at a standstill and staring at each other rather intensely. There was an unspoken tension between you, the air thick with desire and want, something that neither of you should feel for each other. You could blame it on the alcohol, or on the fact that it’s been a while since you did anything intimate with another person. But at the moment, flirting with the man in front of you was like taking a bite out of a forbidden fruit. Humming at his comment, you pulled away.

“Perhaps you’re right,” you sounded nonchalant, thinking it was best to call it a night instead of feeding into whatever this was.

“I think that’s enough drinking for me. Do you want to give me a ride home? Considering you’re the sober one here.” It was another regular thing he did to ease his mind, ensuring you got home safely after a night out. Currently, it felt like another excuse to be near him for longer than you should be.

Leon’s face felt hot when you pulled away from him. What the hell was he doing? He had a moment of clarity and he knew this was a mistake. It was too late to do anything now because a seed had been planted despite neither of you wanting to acknowledge it.

“Yeah, I’ll give you a ride home.” He took the first step and paid the tab, walking out of the bar with you behind him. His hand itched to hold yours, but he kept that to himself as the two of you trekked into the night and towards his parked jeep.

The drive back to your place was quiet as a gentle numbness washed over you from your copious drinking, leaning into the passenger’s seat to watch the city landscape of D.C. pass by through the window. The attraction you felt towards Leon was still there, bubbling alongside the beating in your chest like a drum, but you knew opening Pandora’s box would lead to unwanted destruction. It was safer to not address it, to bury it so far into the ground it could never be recovered again. As you pulled into the driveway of your apartment building, Leon put the Jeep in park, stopping in the front.

“Thank you for the ride and the drinks. I needed it after today,” the softness in your features returned as the corner of your lips turned upwards.

“It’s no problem,” Leon returned your smile. He hadn’t felt this way in a while, especially not towards you. He probably shouldn’t have said the next thing he blurted out, but he took a chance and threw caution to the wind.

“You know, you can invite me up if you want.” He wasn’t expecting you to accept, internally cringing and preparing to recoil from shooting himself in the foot. 

“Invite you up for what? Coffee?” You read between the lines to understand his intentions. Despite the nagging voice you heard screaming out yes, the voice of reason was playing tug of war with the little devil on your shoulder. “Are you hearing yourself right now?”

Leon was nervous. His heart was racing, the ignored sense of responsibility started to creep up on him no matter how hard he suppressed it. You were tipsy, and you two were not close enough to start that kind of relationship.

Or were you?

“Yeah, coffee?” He sported the faintest smirk he could muster. He didn’t know where his head was at or going for that matter, a battlefield with rationality and impulsivity grappling for control.

If you squint hard enough, you’d spot the apprehension in Leon’s eyes, paired with the subdued longing hidden in his blue irises. You knew better than to say yes, but the alcohol in your system clouded your judgment.

“Fine, coffee. But you’re only having one cup, you take enough as it is.”

Stepping out of his car and walking ahead of him, Leon’s presence loomed behind you, like a shadow you couldn’t escape from. This was nothing new, he’s been in your apartment a few times, the same way you’ve been in his for brief moments. The motives for doing so varied; more intensive mission debriefs, wellness checks, grocery drop-offs, and mostly to steal more coffee. 

The circumstances of having him come over this time were fairly different, you both felt it. But you remained colleagues and close friends, nothing more. As you unlocked the front door, you tossed the keys in the console table at the entryway and moved into the kitchen, putting some much needed distance between you and Leon.

“What flavor of coffee do you want? I have hazelnut, caramel, toffee nut, you name it.” You listed out his options to him, watching him from the corner of your eye as he leaned against a kitchen counter not too far from you.

“I’ll take hazelnut,” he ordered, observing you as you busied yourself with making the drinks. It felt selfish, raking his greedy eyes over you like you were his for the taking. It was as subtle as it could be, and he was aware being here in the first place was enough to constitute a bad idea. Since he was already in your apartment, he might as well indulge. 

“Where do you think the mission is taking place? I wonder what European country got on the D.S.O.'s radar this time.” Your voice broke the awkward silence in the kitchen, not wanting to deal with the stillness. In spite of being calm, your skin felt feverish, focused on the coffee that started to brew into the pot.

Leon remained quiet. At first, it was just his sight wandering over your body in full attention. Then it was his thoughts, visualizing things he shouldn’t, things about you. And now, it was how he was feeling, a craving for you that was gnawing at him with every passing second. He cleared his throat and forced himself to shift gears to find a suitable answer to your question.

“I don’t know honestly, probably some northern European country.” He hoped his answer would suffice, coming up with it off the top of his head.

“Well, I just hope it isn’t France. God knows it’s always something about the damn French getting their noses into something.” You kept the conversation going while your mind raced. You were never like this, especially not near Leon. Anxious and scared weren’t part of your character, rather you were confident to the point of bordering on arrogant and cocky.

You were out of your element.

Once the coffee was done brewing, you handed Leon a mug, pivoting to face him for the first time in the past 10 minutes.

“Are you trying to say that French people tend to be nosey?” Leon was sarcastic as he spoke, but it seemed to work in his favor. The shift in humor brought your relationship dynamic back to normal, at least for the time being. You two were back to what you have always been, friends and colleagues. Friends and colleagues…friends and colleagues. Those words ran through his head like a mantra. It was a last-ditch effort to repress the silly crush he’d been harboring for a while, and now it felt all too real.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.” You sipped your coffee, slanting off a counter opposite to Leon, close enough to face him with adequate space to maintain your boundaries. It felt normal between you, as friends and partners. And in the gaps of your sanity, you imagined being with Leon in a way that was far from friendly. You took another larger gulp of coffee, the buzz from the caffeine waking you up and you hoped it would bring you to your senses.

“That was probably a bad French joke,” you mumbled after some time. Comedy was never your strongest suit, that was more of Leon’s thing.

“I’m sure the French wouldn’t appreciate being mocked, they don’t take kindly to that sort of thing,” he finished his coffee and placed the mug down on the countertop.

“I’m sure they’d cut my head off, but you can’t say I’m wrong.” You were also running on empty, taking both cups to wash them in the sink and place them in the dish rack.

“I’m tired now,” Leon declared, the atmosphere had calmed, and the prior interactions in the bar were long forgotten.

“You’re tired? The coffee didn’t do its job?” You glared at him with a credulous look, arms crossing over your chest.

“Maybe you should go home, get some rest, and enjoy the weekend,” you suggested, not wanting him to leave just yet, to relish what was left of the moment and escape reality.

“The coffee did its job. I’m just tired, been a long day.” He stood up straight from the counter, reading the room and recognizing it was his time to leave. “Talk to you on Monday then?”

“Yeah, talk to you Monday.” You confirmed with Leon, catching the way he looked at you a few seconds longer than expected.

You counted every step he took toward your apartment door, the back of his head disappearing as he went into the entryway. It was impulsive, it was stupid, probably the dumbest thing you’ve ever thought of doing in your 25 years of living. But right now, you could give less of a shit about morality and commitments. 

“Leon…” You called out to him, your feet moving before you could stop them. He had one hand on the door handle, just about to open it when he stopped in his tracks at the sound of your voice.

Bringing your face closer to Leon’s, you placed a light kiss on his lips, one that was short and sweet, just enough to test your wavering limits. You did it without thinking, without knowing if it would ruin your friendship, but you threw reason completely out of the window. Once the kiss happened, Leon was taken aback by it. He stood rigid, short-circuiting at the brief feel of your soft mouth against his.

He wanted more. He needed more. 

“I shouldn’t have…” He heard you starting to talk, ending your worries right then and there with a hand on your waist and meshing his lips with yours without a second thought. You reciprocated the next instance, your hands curling into the material of his leather jacket, bringing him closer than he’d ever been.

“This is so stupid,” you murmured, kissing him again as if you couldn’t get enough. You tasted the sweetness of the hazelnut coffee he just drank, the coffee you made him in your apartment. You longed for more of his touch, craved it, could drown in it for all you cared. “Please tell me I’m stupid.”

“You’re stupid,” he said in between kisses, igniting the new flame of passion in your foyer. A thrill of pleasure ran through him, wrapping a thick arm around your body to press you into him, standing chest to chest. “I’m stupid too,” he mumbled, his voice a little muffled, moving one of his hands to hold your soe jaw in place, not wanting to part from you.

“So damn stupid,” you kept trying to talk to him, getting lost in the feeling of his plush mouth moving over yours in a succinct rhythm. You shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be kissing your mentor and your friend, shouldn’t be kissing someone that had so many years accounted for in both age and life experience.

How could something so wrong feel so good?

“We shouldn’t be doing this…” Your defenses crumbled with every press of his mouth, moving back a step as Leon pinned you against the wall. His hips rubbed into yours as he held you in place with a hand on your hip, a low groan escaping him at the contact.

“I know,” he whispered to you. He wasn’t listening to you, wasn’t listening to logic that was usually found in his level-headed psyche. He was hearing what he wanted to hear, the voices that told him to kiss you, to touch you, to claim you as his like he had wanted for so long.

He was addicted to you, wanting to consume you whole after starving for so damn long. He deepened the kiss to make room for his tongue, stroking yours in affectionate swirls. His hands moved from your shoulders to trace down the curve of your spine and caress your denim-clad thigh, thick fingers kneading at your body and giving you an experimental squeeze.

The kiss got more heated as Leon devoured every hum and sigh he could pull from you, chasing the taste of your coffee with his tongue. You moaned into him when his touch roamed to grab a handful of your ass, your fingers running through his blonde hair to keep him in place. Neither of you were thinking straight or concerned about the aftermath of what may follow after these turn of events. The adrenaline from the impulsivity was wearing off and anxiety was barging through you fast enough to give you whiplash. 

“Leon,” with a gasp of his name and a huff of your breath you shoved him away, seeking purchase on the wall. You didn’t want to stop, but you had to before things went too far. You held his gaze with his blown pupils, lips plump and tingling, your cheeks warm to the touch at what transpired.

“You should probably go,” you conveyed a shaky voice, not wanting to upset him but this decision was for the best.

Leon caught his bearings, left speechless by the recklessness of your mutual actions. The actualization of what occurred was starting to sink in, scrutinizing you with a look of confusion and his heart beating so fast he could feel it in his throat.

He wanted this to continue, wanted to hold you close and taste you again and again, wanted time to stop so this could be your new normal. He realized you were making the right decision, the one he should be making as your mentor.

“You’re right, I should go.” His breathless voice swayed as he talked. Reaching for the doorknob of your front door again, he opened it to take one step over the threshold of your apartment.

“I’ll see you Monday?” A short question, one that suggested more than what was asked. It was a silent code for you, to check in to see if you were on good terms with one another, to find out if this night ruined everything that’s been built over the past 4 years.

“Yeah, I’ll see you Monday.” It was a dry response, but it was good enough. He looked back at you one more time, feeling the need to say more than just that, but he said nothing.

Leon stepped outside and shut the door behind him, his hands going to his sides and fantasizing what could’ve been, what could still be if the circumstances were different. He may have left your home, but the feelings he had for you did not. He just had to hope time would heal it, that the yearning would eventually go away, that this improper crush would cease to haunt him.

You stood there with your feet planted into the hardwood floor, staring at the closed door as your mind played catch up. You couldn’t make sense of it, of what just happened between you and the man you held in such high regard. Your gut fluttered and your body throbbed, a fervency you haven’t felt in the past few weeks flourishing when that was the last thing you wanted. You shook your head to yourself, running a hand through your hair and releasing a quivering exhale.

What did I just get myself into?

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #resident evil #resident evil fan fiction #resident evil x reader #ovaryacted fics #fic: story of us #⋆♱ nic works ♱⋆ #dividers by saradika-graphics

[pearl-blue-musings]

Wine night YES!!!! Ohhh hohohohohooo do I have a nice one!!! Academic rivals that are working on the same lecture, they can't stand one another despite admitting that MAYBE they're not AS BAD as they think they are. At the library they both find themselves reaching for the same book. Banter wars! Sass!! And.....pent up stress that leads to...oh!!! Thank goodness NO ONE comes back here Q.Q

Oooooo!!!!!! Oh man the set up for this is so so so real!! I hope you’re okay with genshin impact!!

You rub at your elbow when the book you were reaching for falls to the ground. You go to pick it up, ignoring the hat clad scholar scoffing at you. Of all the people to run into at this time of night in the house of daena…

“Tch, don’t tell me you’re actually gonna read this? Looks like someone is finally using their brain here.” Of course, it had to be him. The newest Vahumana scholar and representative from the InterDarshan Competition who just so happens to be the Lesser Lord’s ward. Ever since he joined, he’s given you unnecessary academic competition and it’s been driving you insane. Every time you’ve written a research article, he’s always the first to pick it apart.

You snatch the book off the ground before he has a chance to reach it. “Are you done? Is this what you have to do to make up for your lack of height? Be an absolute dick? Your little mommy can’t swoop in all the time and bail you out.” You cross your arms indignantly and smirk at him in front of the bookcase. Wanderer, or Hat Guy as you’ve called him, clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes. He tries to get past you to look for another collection of records nearby. Finally having enough of his shit, you stop him and get in his way. A deep sigh escapes his lips and he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Get the fuck out of my way.”

“No.”

“Do you plan on obstructing my research more by being a nuisance?”

“Hmm,” you hum, “you know all about that don’t you? Always having something snarky to say to everything I publish!”

He crosses his arm and flicks his hat. “I wouldn’t do that if you knew what the hell you were talking about. If you did better research, I wouldn’t have to correct you.”

That strikes a nerve.

He tries to push pass you but you hold firm. Getting more irritated by the second, he grabs your shoulders and pushes you against the bookshelf. His nose brushes against yours as he breathes angrily above you. “You,” he seethes out, “are getting in my way and on my last nerve. Now for the last fucking time, move.”

For some reason, your heart is beating out of your chest with how close he is. You dart your eyes away from his intense stare briefly. “No.”

“Fuckin…”

He leans in to kiss you, pressing his body close to yours as the kiss deepens. You tilt your head to the side as all of your unsaid emotions are coming front and center. One hand is firmly on your hip while his other is above you, you think, holding onto the bookshelf. He bites at your lip possessively and hums into your mouth. The kiss ends suddenly and you flutter your eyes open. Just what the hell was that? You’re not sure but maybe-

“Got my book.”

You blink dumbfoundedly as he has the book he needs in one hand, smirking at your expression as he drags his thumb over his lip.

“Thanks for getting in my way,” he rumbles out, “you should do it more often.”

Elle’s Wine Night anything goes!!

#elle’s wine night #elle’s anons #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #genshin scaramouche #scaramouche x you #wanderer x reader #wanderer x you #genshin wanderer #genshin impact x reader #wanderer x y/n

[messyhairdiaz]

a prelude to falling

bucktommy - rated g - 984 words - 7.06 spec

Tommy is in so much trouble.

Across the dancefloor, Evan sways with Jee-Yun in his arms, the little girl clinging to his neck, her eyes drooping like she’s fighting sleep.

It is far, far too early to be thinking about Evan dancing with their own little girl like that, so he only indulges the thought for a second before sweeping it under a rug to be brought out at a later date.

There’s going to be a later date, if he has any say in it. And if the smile that appears on Evan’s face when they make eye contact is anything to go by, it’s a sure bet.

The song ends and Evan gently removes the koala grip Jee-Yun has on his neck and hands her off to the Buckley father. That meeting had been…interesting. Tommy hadn’t known if Evan had done the business of coming out to his parents before the wedding, but he’s guessing by the twin looks of shock on their faces when Evan had said, breezy as anything, this is my date, Tommy, that he had not.

There’s a story there. Probably several stories, most of which are likely not good. He’s familiar with that—it’s not like he doesn’t have a treasure trove of shit himself.

But the part that surprises him is that he wants to learn all those stories. And all the other stories Evan could tell him. And he wants to tell Evan all his stories too.

He’s never fallen so quickly for someone before.

Evan catches his eye again as he comes across the dancefloor. He’d changed right before the impromptu hospital wedding—Chimney in a gown and suit jacket getting pumped full of fluids for his dehydration while he said his vows, Maddie looking beautiful at his side—so he’s out of the Miami Vice getup that had seen better days by the time Tommy had deposited Chimney at the hospital. Now he’s in a suit just a shade or two lighter than navy with a pale blue dress shirt underneath.

Tommy’s doing a magnificent job of not being horny in public and is only kind of thinking about taking it off him piece by piece.

Not that they’re there yet. He’s been taking it slow both because he thinks it’s probably what Evan needs and because he’s enjoying getting to know him before tumbling into bed with him. But he’s thought about it. Of course he’s thought about it.

“Hey,” Evan says when he reaches him. It’s breathy, the word escaping on an exhale and tugging the corners of his mouth up into a smile on the way out.

Tommy is quickly learning that having Evan Buckley’s attention is something special you don’t want to let go of.

“Hey,” he says back, reaching out to tug Evan into his orbit. He’d hesitated, when they’d first reconvened at the reception once Chimney’d been discharged at the hospital, not sure how much PDA was okay with Evan in general, much less right after having unceremoniously come out to his parents, but he shouldn’t have worried. The moment other people had started filtering onto the dancefloor after the newlyweds’ first dance Evan had held a hand out and said, I believe I promised dancing and had hardly stopped touching him since.

And now is no exception. Evan lets himself be tugged in close, and then leans in for a sweet, chaste yet lingering kiss.

“What do you say we get out of here?” Evan murmurs when it’s over.

“You don’t have to help with cleanup, or anything?”

“Nope,” Evan says, popping the P. “Josh got the man of honor prize, he gets the cleanup duty.”

“Okay. Need to say bye to your sister?”

“Nah,” Buck says, grinning. “She and Chim snuck out like fifteen minutes ago.”

Tommy glances around, realizing now he hadn’t seen the flash of her white gown in a while. But then, he’d been too glued to Evan dancing with Jee-Yun to have noticed if an elephant had strode in and trampled the guests.

“What do you have in mind?” He asks, indulging himself by sliding his hands under Evan’s suit jacket to rest on his waist.

“I was thinking,” Evan starts, sliding his hands up Tommy’s chest and around to the back of his neck, only stopping when his fingers are folded together there, locking them in place, “we could go back to mine?”

Tommy raises a brow. “Yeah?”

Evan lifts and drops one shoulder in a shrug. “We could just talk. Or—” he leans in again, brushing his mouth across Tommy’s, “—do some more of this?”

Tommy shivers. Fuck. He’d seen hints of what kind of flirt Evan could be when he hadn’t really understood what he was doing, and he’d known that as soon as he’d gotten his feet under him he was going to sweep Tommy off his. It just seems like that time has come a little sooner than he’d expected.

“Yeah,” he exhales. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Evan beams at him, and his heart kicks in his chest. 

He lets Evan lead him from the venue, their palms fitting together so nicely. He lets Evan kiss him at their vehicles, a little hotter, a little heavier in the semi-privacy of a dark parking lot.

And as he follows Evan’s taillights to the loft, he lets himself acknowledge that he’s a goner. He’s going to fall in love with him. He thinks his fate was sealed when Chimney showed up at the hangar with Evan and Eddie in tow.

Maybe his fate was sealed years ago, when he’d left the 118 for Harbor, opening the space Evan found his way into. 

He doesn’t know. But he does know it’s the path he’s on now. All he can do now is hope Evan is on the path with him.

And the thing is? He’s pretty sure he is.

ao3 link

#911 fic #bucktommy #911 spoilers #i mean ish #my fic