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slytherinslut0 · 5 months

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Theodore Nott. | that’s what i said.

info: your boyfriend was telling you about his day, when he began speaking fluent Italian, knowing damn well you only knew select words. when you asked him to repeat it, he had you come sit on his lap and ended up doing a little more than just repeating it.

word count: 3k

tags: 18+, literally pure smut. pure lorenzo italian daddy type smut. lots of italian translation (apologies to all my italians out there if they’re a little off) lots of praise, riding, piv, dirty talk.

Reclining across from you, Theodore Nott your lovely boyfriend, exuded an air of relaxed confidence while seated comfortably on the expansive leather couch in his dorm room. His legs were stretched wide, one arm casually draped over the armrest--each of his current mannerisms acting as physical testaments to the ease with which he inhabited the space.

As he delved into the narrative of his day, you, nestled in the love seat opposite him, eagerly absorbed the symphony of his voice. It was a melody that effortlessly traversed between English and Italian, a linguistic dance that had always held a special place in your heart.

His words held an irresistible charm, each syllable cascading like liquid honey off his tongue. The profound rasp of his voice, entwined with his seductive Italian accent stirred something indescribable within your body. The prospect of listening to him like this every day for the rest of your life fueled your anticipation, a certainty that the allure would never lose its magic. It was a sensation you eagerly anticipated, knowing that the richness of his voice would forever remain a timeless delight.

Yet, within the fluidity of his storytelling, Theodore suddenly shifted into Italian, weaving complete sentences with a gaze that lingered through half-lidded eyes, as if this linguistic transformation were the most natural thing in the world. Ordinarily, you might have interrupted him, gently reminding him of your language limitations, but today, well, you just couldn't bring yourself to do so.

You were almost in awe, unable to deny that there was an enchanting quality to the way the words curled off his tongue. That, coupled with the intensity of his stare, seemingly compelled you to stay silent, as if under a trance. You found yourself captivated, clinging to every indecipherable syllable, a familiar heat beginning to kindle between your thighs.

It was as if he momentarily lost himself in the labyrinth of his thoughts, forgetting, if only for an instant, that your understanding of the language was confined solely to select phrases and words. This linguistic detour left you with a quizzical frown, a silent plea for translation in the midst of his enchanting monologue, and finally, noting your confusion after what felt like ages, he paused, cocking a charming eyebrow at you.

"Something on your mind, Bella?" he teased, leisurely spreading his legs further as his gaze meandered from your eyes to your lips, only to return, locking onto your gaze once more. "You appear a touch...lost."

"Theo, I must confess--I haven't the slightest idea what you just said," you admitted, a playful pout gracing your lips. Your eyes sparkled with a blend of curiosity and mischief. "And I know you're well aware that was far beyond my linguistic expertise."

"All this time, and you still haven't mastered my language, Bella Mia..." Theo, with a dramatic flair, feigned a hurt expression, his stormy eyes widening ever so slightly. "You're truly breaking my heart."

Smirking, you teased, "forgive me, amore..." your fingers traced an absent pattern on the armrest, a subtle invitation. "Please, feel free to repeat it--I love the way it sounds..."

A mischievous glint sparked behind his irises, a playful confidence dancing in their depths. With a self-assured grin, he patted his lap invitingly, his messy brown locks falling effortlessly over his forehead.

"Why don't you come over here," he suggested, his tone velvety, "and I'll gladly repeat it for you?"

Your grin widened, a flicker of anticipation igniting within you as you slowly rose from the chair, not needing a second thought. His burning stare followed your every move as you veered closer to him, an intensity in his eyes that set your senses ablaze without effort. As you approached, a slow, deliberate stride, the air thickened with a tangible tension, your pulse thumping in your throat.

No matter the duration of your relationship with Theo, each touch remained an electric encounter, perpetually reminiscent of the initial spark. His reverence for your body endured, a devotion that unfolded afresh with every caress, as if every moment were a new discovery for his hands and eyes.

Stalling in front of him, you giddily pulled your lip between your teeth as his hands found yours, guiding them to his shoulders as he pulled you down to straddle his lap. The warmth of his embrace enveloped you, his hands finding a natural place on your hips.

"Mm," he purred, burying his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling a sharp breath as his fingers dug into your skin. "So beautiful, Bella..."

You stifled a mewl as he pressed careless kisses along your neck, the playful banter giving way to a charged silence as his teeth softly grazed your pulse--the unspoken language between you both pulsating with desire and connection. The messy brown waves of his hair framed a face now tinged with a sultry charm, and the mischievous glint in his eyes promised a shared secret in the language only you two understood.

As if completely instinctively, you rolled your hips against his crotch, head falling back as his hands slid around to your ass, groaning against your neck as he aided your movements, guiding you back and forth against his growing bulge. You could already feel him throbbing beneath you, your cunt clenching in need for his touch as the only thing separating your heat from his groin was your thin layer of underwear, rubbing against his trousers.

"Ho voluto scoparti tutto il giorno..." he murmured, the same phrase he'd said earlier, the one in which you didn't understand. "...sei tutto ciò a cui riesco a pensare."

Your brows furrowed, about to question him, but exasperation quickly took over as he sank his teeth into your neck. He left vivid, possessive marks on your skin, his hands sliding up and under your skirt, tracing the supple contours of your ass. As you continued to move against him, a whirlwind of desire engulfed you, and you quickly lost yourself in the intoxicating rush.

"You're so fucking sexy," he breathed, his voice a low, deep murmur, reverberating a shudder of desire down your spine, his tongue trailing a flat stripe up the side of your throat. "Ho bisogno di te, mia bellissima piccola troia." (I need you, my beautiful little slut.)

"Theo..." you whimpered, your hands entwining in his hair, fingers weaving through his tousled auburn locks. His mouth ascended, planting tender, moist kisses along the ridge of your jawline. "Please-please-"

"Mm, you like that don't you, principessa?" His voice was a seductive purr, the words wrapping around you like silk as he pulled back a hand and gave you a sharp smack on your ass, eliciting an immediate squeal from your throat. "Tu ami grinding that dolce piccola figa on me like this, hm?..." (you love)(sweet little pussy)

In response to his words, an unabashed moan escaped your lips, louder than you had initially intended. Theo responded with a low growl, his free hand moving to your jaw, cradling it delicately as he guided your lips to his. The ensuing kiss spoke a language of its own--one of desire, need, and an unfiltered passion that surpassed any linguistic expression.

Your hold on his hair intensified as you pressed against him more urgently, the rhythm quickening. His tongue boldly slipped past your teeth, exploring your mouth with fervor. Simultaneously, his hands glided to the hem of your blouse, lifting it along your stomach. The kiss briefly broke as he encouraged your arms upward, swiftly pulling your shirt over your head and discarding it on the floor.

"Così bella..." he praised, his eyes fixated on your chest adorned by the delicate, lacy fabric of your white bralette. The intensity in his gaze felt scorching, as if it could sear your skin to ash. "Così, così bella, amore mio..." (So beautiful)(so, so beautiful, my love...)

His words took your breath away, slamming your chest like a fifty pound brick, the worship in his tone enough to render you speechless. You writhed in his lap, seeking friction, more friction that what you were currently experiencing--wanting him; needing him in every possible way. You captured his lips again, rolling your hips harder, the deep moan that escaped him found itself muffled by your mouth as you worked at the buttons on his shirt, fervently popping them free as quickly as you could.

The second his chest was exposed, you scoured it like a starved animal, the skin-on-skin contact sending a desperate clench to your cunt. You mapped his muscles to your memory as though it was the first time you'd ever seen them--the strength of his biceps, his strong, powerful abdomen, all of it hot and vibrating with need--you were breathless at the sight of his beauty under your palms, a feeling that had never once even partially faltered, no matter how many times you fucked him.

"Are you going to tell me what you said, Teddy..." you murmured, a playful smile dancing on your lips as your fingers skillfully moved to his belt, assisting in its release. "That was the whole reason I came over here, was it not?"

"Words can wait, amore," Theo muttered, his voice husky with desire, his gaze locked onto yours as he undid the zipper on your skirt, watching with blaring eyes as you tugged it off, along with your panties and tossed them to the floor. "Actions speak louder, don't they?"

"Mmfh," you moaned as he pulled you back against his mouth, his tongue running along your teeth as your bodies rocked together, his fingers gripping and caressing and squeezing every bit of your body that they could.

Pulling away, he met your eyes, heavily panting for breath as he gazed at you with a hunger that matched your own. His hands shifted, urging you to back up for a moment as he pulled his pants and boxers midway down his thighs--growling low in his chest as his thick, throbbing length sprung free, glistening with precum as it smacked against his chiseled stomach. You clenched.

He pulled you back against him, gliding you in slicking your soaked cunt along the length of his cock, his eyes burning wounds into your flesh as he watched you, lost in pleasure, lost in your need for him.

"Lo vuoi, amore mio?" (You want it, my love?) His voice barely rose above a whisper as he posed the question to which he damn well knew the answer. "You want this fucking cock inside that pretty little cunt?"

You shuddered, clenching hard in anticipation, nodding as you leaned closer, grazing your lips against his, panting heavily into his mouth.

"I want to hear you say it," he growled, one hand sliding up beyond your shoulders to grip the back of your neck, locking your gaze onto his. "Beg me to fuck you."

Your nails dug into his shoulders, entire body vibrating. "Please-Theo, please fuck me..."

"No, no," he playfully clucked his tongue, delivering a sharp smack to your ass with his free hand. You instinctively clenched again, the sensation electrifying. "In Italian."

"Gods," you groaned, his ceaseless teasing consistently pushing you to the brink of physical exhilaration in all the most delightful ways. Fortunately, this was a phrase he had taught you from the very beginning, a linguistic lesson that lingered since day one. "Per favore-per favore...ho bisogno di te..." (please-please…I need you.)

He exhaled, grunting. "Good girl."

It was a combined effort--he fisted his length, angling it at your core, your hands clutching his shoulders as you sank onto him, his thick girth stretching you wide with ease. You both collectively groaned, your walls pulsing and clenching around him as you took a second to adjust to his length, before rocking your hips in a slow, erotic rhythm; working yourself open on his cock.

Theo's eyes were glued to yours, watching your every movement as though he was afraid he'd miss something if he looked away. With a grunt, his big hands found your tits, palming and groping at the soft flesh with primal urgency, brushing his thumbs against your nipples, teasing them with soft circles. Your eyes rolled, your head falling back on your shoulders as you increased your pace, soft moans slipping past your lips.

"Esatto, piccola angioletta...così perfetta..." (That's right, little angel... so perfect) he murmured, his voice low, torn with husk. "You're so goddamn tight...squeezing me so good...così buono."

"Gods, Theo..." you whimpered, relishing in how deep he was, how big. "You're so fucking big."

Your boyfriend's hands shifted again, finding your hips, sharp fingernails digging into your skin as he thrust upward to match your movements, his cock hitting all the right spots. Your own fingers burrowed into his shoulders while you throbbed around him, lungs desperate for air, and he snarled, increasing his movements, setting a brutal pace that you couldn't match.

Cries fled you, pushed from your lungs by the carnal force of his hips, and Theodore consumed you--lips sucking at your neck, hands bearing bruises into your ass. His dick stretched you wide, fucked you deep, wracking your body with its punishment, breasts bouncing, his breath coming in ragged gasps against your skin.

You tilted your head back, his fervent mouth tracing down to your collarbone, claiming his territory across as much of your skin as possible. His cock pumped into you, beckoning an orgasm from the bottom of your brain--and as if sensing your clit screaming for attention, his hand snaked between your legs, fingers smoothly gliding over it. In response, you squealed, digging your nails into his shoulders with enough force to shatter the skin, body awash with pleasure.

"That's it, amore..." he groaned, breathless, teeth nipping at your earlobe, free hand gripping your ass with enough force to batter the skin. "Ride me like the good little whore you are."

"Fuck-fuck yes," you cried, your hips moving faster, chasing your orgasm as Theo's fingers rubbed tighter circles against your clit, increasing their relentless pursuit in bringing you over the edge. "Don't stop, Theo-fuck, please don't stop..."

"I won't, my love," he murmured, lips pressed against your ear, breathing the words into your eardrums. "Wouldn't fucking dream of it."

Theo's fingers worked magic on your clit as he thrust up into your cunt faster, harder--his cock hitting your g-spot with each aggressive movement. You could feel the pressure building inside your core, your body coiling like a tightly wound spring as he worked you closer and closer to the edge.

"Theo-" you gasped, your voice practically a scream. "I'm going to-I'm going-"

"Going to what, principessa...hm?" He implored, his voice a low, husky whisper escaping through his teeth; your entire essence pulsating, trembling amid his passionate pursuit. "Verrai per me? That tight little pussy going to cum on my cock?"

You wailed, head falling back, chest swelling for air. "Yes!...Theo-please!"

"Fallo. Cum for me." He graced your ass with another harsh smack, placing wet, sloppy kisses against your jawline. "Let me feel you."

With only a few more strokes, you came undone, cunt clamping around his cock, your whole body shaking as your orgasm washed over your entirety, blazing through every nerve ending and every fucking cell. Theo's fingers continued to rub you through it, prolonging the pleasure until you were left gasping for breath, nothing more than babbling nonsensical moans and pleas leaving your lips in the aftermath of his wrath.

Theo grunted, finally peeling his hand off your clit once you were whimpering and squirming against him, gripping the back of your head and drawing your mouth to his, meeting your lips in a sloppy wet kiss, each of you sucking in sharp breaths through your nostrils as you continued to ride him, your walls tingling in post orgasmic rapture.

"Brava ragazza," he moaned into your mouth, his body shaking with the force of his impending release. "So fucking good, bambina."

His movements grew erratic, hips bucking hard as he struggled to hold off his own orgasm, the force of his pace bordering on violent. You gasped, squealed, held onto him for dear life as you rode him, attempting to match his pace, but he was possessed, starved, breaking the kiss to lean back, both hands gripping your hips, holding you steady.

"You want my cum, little slut? Hm?" He gritted out, forehead glistening with sweat, his pupils blown wide with lust. "You want me to fill up this tight little cunt?"

You gasped, nodding frantically. "Yes! Please-please!"

"fuck...I'm gonna cum..." his lids fluttered, dark eyebrows pinching in concentration, his face contorting into a scowl of effort. "Cristo-you feel così buono-shit.."

With a final thrust, he growled, groaned--his movements slowing, breath sputtering from his lungs as he exploded, pumping once, twice, three times--all before coming to a halt, cock twitching inside you as he drained his hot cum deep into your pussy. Sweat beaded each of your foreheads, bliss buzzing between your bodies as you kissed him softly, panting into his mouth as you each worked silently to come back down to earth, pulses pounding in ruthless rhythm.

Spent and fully sated, Theo cradled the back of your head, pulling you into him, his free arm snaking around your back. You wrapped your arms around his neck, keeping him inside you as you two stayed like that for a moment, relishing in the intimacy between your bodies as he softened, his lips placing tender kisses on your shoulder.

"Ho voluto scoparti tutto il giorno..." he murmured softly, a hint of amusement in his tone as he repeated the words he knew you had no idea of their meaning. "sei tutto ciò a cui riesco a pensare."

"Stop teasing me." You huffed, burying your face into the crook of his neck. "It's not very nice of you, Theo..."

He chuckled, a low hum from deep in his chest, smirking against your skin as he tightened his grip around you, brushing loose strands of hair behind your ear.

“I wanted to fuck you all day...” he murmured, lips brushing your temple. “You’re all I can think about..."

You pulled back, meeting his stormy eyes. "Is that-"

"Yes." He interrupted you with a gentle kiss, smiling against your lips. "That's what I said."

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suguann · 2 months

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an. part two of this | masterlist

You tell him you broke up with your boyfriend while he’s away for work, bunked up in a safe house in the middle of nowhere with shit reception, hearing your words as clear as day as if they weren’t the chopped-up version coming through his burner phone.

“It just…didn’t work out.”

It didn’t work out.

He pretends his stomach doesn’t pleasantly twist because he’d expected it to happen eventually. He’s not happy about it—although it does make the desert heat more bearable in his heavy tactical gear—and tells Soap to fuck off when he comments on it.

It was a one-time fuck because Simon doesn’t date. He’s tried in the past before he met you—the flowers, the late-night dinners—but with him being gone almost every other month (sometimes longer, shorter if he’s lucky), it never works out in the end. Sleeping with you twice would fall under that category, the quasi-relationship kind, and make everything messier than it needs to be.

Just some fun, no strings, those are the words he promised.

If only he believed them.

He does, for all of two weeks until he’s home again, and it’s summer, so you’re wearing a flowy dress that shows off the long expanse of your legs.

(He’s a goner—not even sure why he tried to think otherwise.)

That one time he’d promised turns into a second, both of you stumbling into your apartment after a night out. The music from the pub still thumping loudly underneath your floor as he pushes you against the front door, hands in your hair—on your waist, underneath your skirt, down your thigh to hitch it over his waist—teasing your mouth open with a swipe of his tongue across your bottom lip.

You make this delighted little noise in the back of your throat, arching into him, and his hand spans down your stomach, beneath your underwear, to nudge your messy clit with his knuckle, wanting to hear all the sounds you make now that he has you alone.

A whiny cry of his name rewards him—jeans tightening around his waist at the sound—when his fingers go down, down until they press against your tight little hole, one finger pressing inside slowly. "If I make you cum, I get to fuck you here.”

You smile prettily, and it disarms him. “If you make me cum, you can fuck me however you want.”

Neither of you makes it to the bed, falling asleep on the living room floor instead, the blanket from the couch draped haphazardly over both of you with his arm curled over your waist.

That night had been a slip of judgment, a product of wanting something warm and soft after several months of only having his hand for company.

It happens again and again, and he keeps letting it happen until there’s no more hiding under the guise of just fun because it somehow turns into a lot more than that.

Simon can’t explain how it happens—maybe becoming something he can touch and hold and think about often—but he finds himself in an exclusive relationship with you that isn’t exactly a relationship because he’s unsure of the ins and outs that they entail.

(Always has been.)

His father was a shit role model, and it was always easier finding someone new who didn’t know his name or care about his scars and only wanted a nice fuck. There had never been any point in shooting for something serious when it was always out of the question for him, until now, that is.

He takes you to that over-rated restaurant overlooking the Thames Marcus never brought you to. A picture of you and him with the sunset in the background—your smile almost blinding in the photo—becomes his home screen, and he finds he doesn’t care when Soap has something to say about it.

He lets you do nonsensical shit, like buying small plants for his house that are surely going to die from him being gone before he comes up with the great idea to give you a key. It’s just a key.

(It’s more than just a key.)

Simon finds himself asking if he can come over more often throughout the week, which slowly moulds and shifts into nights filled with things other than sex—sleeping after a long day of work, cuddling on the couch, cooking together, going to the movies—he doesn’t try to make a big deal out of it because you used to hang out all the time without sex.

(Somewhere, there’s a but in there.)

There’s still no label to whatever this is, and he wonders if you want him to be the first to say the thing you’ve both been dancing around for a little over…he can’t remember, but he knows it’s been long enough for your things to mix in with his at his house.

Be with me because I’m yours, and you’re mine, that’s what he’s trying to say, and it’s never the right time. Men like him—a little broken, rough, and jagged around the edges sharp enough to cut—aren’t good with words like that.

(That’s what he thought.)

If he hadn’t seen you talking to a guy at the pub, eyes crinkling in that same sweet way whenever Simon makes you laugh, he wonders if he would’ve been the first to break from the start. He knows it’s your job as a bartender to be nice, but his jaw clicks at the sight of the guy leaning over the bar and into your space, almost too close.

The feeling doesn’t go away until he has you spread out on your mattress under him—clothes haphazardly peeled out of the way for him to put his mouth on you—your lips pursed tight around two of his fingers to give you something to focus on as his other hand works between your thighs, pressing down on your tongue when gurgled little sounds slip out.

He teases you with a small, pink vibrator he found inside your bedside table, your legs kicking out and toes curling into his calves.

“Mine. This is mine, love,” he groans, pressing you further into the bed with his weight. “Do you understand?”

You nod, tears pearling and leaking from the corner of your eyes.

“Lemme cum,” you whine, words muffled. “Simon, I want to cum. Please.”

He won’t lie that he’s close after jerking into his fist to the sight of you writhing on the sheets—swears he can feel his heartbeat throbbing against the back of his fingers—takes in your surprised expression when he pushes forward, impaling you on the first few inches of his cock.

His stomach twists from the squeal that escapes your throat, and fuck, your cunt, so hot and tight with little pulses that drive him crazy, only growing tighter when he turns up the speed on the vibrator.

“‘Mm, gonna cum. I’m—”

He grits his teeth as you start to flutter around his cock once he’s rooted inside you. “Go on—fuck—go on, love. Let me feel it.”

You look so perfect like this, like a dream: lips parted into an enticing little O with his name tumbling out in breathy mewls, tits hanging out from the bra he shoved to the side, eyes glassy and unfocused.

“So fucking pretty.” He kisses your throat, panting into your sweat-slick skin, and it’s not long before he’s falling over the edge with you.

Next time, he’ll have the courage to tell you: that you’re not someone he calls for a meaningless fuck on the weekend, that Simon misses you when he’s gone and can’t wait to come home, that he wants to try with you—except not when he’s balls deep and trembling inside your heavenly cunt.

But the smile he feels against his shoulder makes him think that maybe…

Maybe you already know.

#simon riley smut #simon riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #cod smut #cod imagine #cod x reader #mw2 smut #mw2 x reader #mw2 imagine #ghost x reader #ghost imagine #ghost smut #.things i write

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piecesunfolding · 1 year

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Folks I've Followed

I have AT LEAST two well known authors of books I haven't even read that I follow. And didn't realize it, probably for months, until I actually went to their blogs. It's delightful to know I'm in an internet space where, just because of my interests, I keep accidentally following people who are active producers of my interests.

#One I have actually run into his work in the wild #But follow him not because of wordy things but because of his interests that he posts about #The other I know nothing about #But follow her because I find her chatter of wordy things coupled with her maturity delightful #And again #It's great to have a space on the internet where you get to follow like-minded folks you'd have never come across otherwise #My dashboard is my happy place

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alltoowelltom · 3 months

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Hear me out - cockwarming with lando while he's gaming or something 😩

oh girl- thank you for requesting x

Lando looks up from his game when you push open the door, hovering shyly in the doorway.

“Hey,” he says, pushing off one side of his headphones. “Y’alright?”

You nod, then shake your head, shrugging helplessly.

“There’s nothing wrong, really, I just…miss you” you whisper the last two words quietly. “Are you streaming?”

He shakes his head, beckoning you over.

“No, just on with Max and some others. D’you wanna come sit with me?”

You smile at him, entering the room properly. Lando scooches his chair back slightly to make space as he pulls you down onto his lap. You rest your head in the crook of his neck, breathing in his fresh, citrusy scent.

Lando returns to his game and you feel yourself beginning to drift off in his embrace, shifting slightly every time he curses or runs a hand through his hair when he dies in the game.

“Y/N,” he whispers harshly, covering the mic on his headphones. “You’ve gotta stop moving on me, baby.”

“Hmm?” you hum sleepily, before feeling him pressing into the underside of your thigh. “Oh my God,” you laugh quietly.

“You made me like this with all your wriggling!” he defends.

“Do you want me to help?” you ask cheekily, wriggling a little more just for good measure.

“Can’t, I promised the guys I’d help with this quest and there’s no way I can keep quiet if you suck me off.” he whispers

You nod in understanding, stilling in your movements and resting your head on his shoulder again. Lando is only able to focus on his game for another minute or two before sighing, muting his mic once again.

“Do you want to like…” he pauses, blush spreading over his cheeks and nose as he tries to find a way to propose his idea. “Like, sit on me or something? I’m going crazy like this.”

“I am sitting on you?”

“No,” he whispers, bringing one hand to stroke your thigh gently. “Like sit on me.”

You’re the one to blush next and Lando giggles, feeling the heat of your face on his neck.

“Okay,” you whisper.

You lift yourself off him just quick enough for Lando to untie his sweatpants and push them down his thighs. He pulls you back to him immediately, lifting up the flowy skirt you happened to be wearing.

“Just get comfy, okay baby?” he says, swiping himself through your folds a few times before letting you sink down onto his length. You bury your head back in it’s place in the crook of his shoulder and neck, shivering at the stretch and the feeling of him.

“Okay?” he checks, pressing a quick kiss to your head as you nod and he bottoms out in you.

“You better be one thousand percent sure that you’re not streaming this, Norris.” you whisper playfully as he pushes his headphones back on, rejoining the game.

A draft blows across his gaming room and you shiver, the cold bringing up goosebumps on your sliver of exposed back.

Lando groans breathily at your movement and you stifle a giggle as he tries to cover it up as a cough.

“Alright there, mate?” Max asks over the call.

“Oh my fucking God, not this moaning bullshit again.” says Morgan.

“Sorry guys,” Lando laughs and you shudder in delight at the vibration. “I’m not sure I can control myself today.”

#inbox #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #lando norris smut #lando norris fluff #formula one x reader #formula one smau #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #mclaren f1 #ln4 #f1 x y/n

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garoujo · 7 months

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✩ ˛˚ . GOJO SATORU — sometimes satoru uses his technique to tease you, even though he’s the one who always seems to give in first.

ஜ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ contents! fluff, just satoru being a menace, some smooches! that’s all me thinks! ♡ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ note! he’s been on my mind so often, i’m being attacked with all of these thoughts of him <3

“satoru i swear, put it down!” you whine before you frown up at your ridiculously tall boyfriend, he’s wearing a lopsided grin and you’d take great delight in kissing it off of his stupidly handsome face if you could get passed his even more stupid infinity technique.

“oh? you can ask nicer than that, sweet girl.” gojo goads as he leans over you, deliberately close because he knows you can’t close the distance. he liked teasing you like this, liked seeing the way you would pout and groan whenever he did, he liked the way you wanted to touch him— to kiss him, to love him. so he took great pride in seeing you get a little wound up in your want for it.

“satoru!” you hiss as you push into him again, a little closer than last but still not enough to feel the warm press of his skin against yours. he tilts his head as you call his name, his crystalline gaze narrowing as he scratches at his snowy hair, and you give him another sharp frown before you stomp over to drop yourself on the sofa instead.

“come on~ can’t you just tell your good looking boyfriend you want a kiss, hm? just gotta ask.” gojo hums as he follows you, only needing a few long strides before the cushion next to you is dipping under his weight and he’s letting his arm rest behind you— so close yet so far.

“you’re so annoying.” you huff again as you turn to face away from him, refusing to make eye contact this time because you know he’s wearing one of his more handsome grins, one that you know he does deliberately to lure you in— to make you crave the press of his lips with yours. just so he can take it away so rudely.

“don’t be like that. my lips feel so cold, i’ll die here.” gojo’s pouting now, like it’s not his fault he’s still not gotten his kiss. he lets his head fall and rest back against the couch as he groans, whining about how cruel you’re being, hurting his feelings and rejecting his love like this.

“yeah well so do mine!” you retort back quickly and you feel a vein pop when he chuckles, trying to hide it behind another smirk when you shoot him a sharp look from over your shoulder, inching yourself further away on the couch.

but gojo can only resist your adorable little frown for so long himself.

“hm? then you know what to do, let me hear you..” his words take a lower sort of drawl as he follows you along the space, easing himself into your side until you can finally feel the warm press of his skin— finally releasing his technique enough for him to be able to press kisses along your shoulder blades.

but you’re far too petty to give into him now.

gojo groans when you keep yourself facing away from him, his lips making their way from your shoulders, to your neck, then across your jawline before he’s peppering a few sweet kisses to your cheeks and giving you a soft look from underneath his pretty lashes, “..or are you gonna leave me here to suffer?”

“can i have a kiss, satoru.” you mumble between your lips, giving him an inch when you feel his hands press into the dip of your waist— his touch so warm you can’t help but melt into it as you feel him smile against your skin, smugly you’re sure.

“oh, didn’t hear you, baby. little louder f’ me.” you groan at that, and gojo squeezes you closer— pressing you into his chest as he leaves a soft kiss at the corner of your lips, so close to where you want it, to where he needs it. he’s held out for long enough, he’s pretty satisfied with his teasing now.

“can i please have a kiss, satoru.” you finally give in and he’s on you immediately as he presses his lips to yours, exhaling like he’s been starved of you for months. your lips part and he takes that as an invitation as he pushes his tongue between them, groaning when your own comes to meet him and he already feels lightheaded as he closes his lips to suckle languidly.

another few moments, blissfully dreamy moments with your lips on his— his hands are on your hips now and your fingers are in his hair, pressing deeper into eachother as your mouth moves with his. he pulls away to breathe, as much as it pains him, despite the way hes kiss drunk and flushed— already leaning in for more.

“see? was that so hard? always holding out on me. so mean~”

#݁ . ࿓ : sealed#jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru x you

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neuvistar · 7 months

Text

LOTUS FLOWER. pt one.

— featuring ┊ genshin men (neuvillette, wriothesley, lyney, kaveh, alhaitham) x f!pregnant reader

— warnings / content warnings ┊nsfw. not proofread. all consensual! mentions of breeding k!nk, t!tplay (neuvillette), vaginal fingering (lyney?), implied semi-public s3x (wriothesley), s!ze kink if u squint (alhaitham), dirty talk obvi, them being absolute sweethearts, reader implied 2 be physically smaller than them, cunnilingus (kaveh), nicknames used, overall suggestive content. 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

— a/n ┊ this is part one guys!! part two will come soon! since i’m a little late for kinktober (oops) i’ve decided to try n do this thingy of my own </3 genshin men w a pregnant partner n maybe i’ll do separate oneshots too throughout the month if im not busy enough, i’ll try my best! i also took time 2 try n improve my writing style n i think it paid off.. anyways reblogs + feedback appreciated ! (guys i wroye this when i’m half asleep #help)

𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄, 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐅 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄

— "love, you're too cute when you pout like that," neuvillette chuckled, lightly pecking your cheeks with soft chaste kisses

NEUVILLETTE has always been your caretaker during your hard months of pregnancy, he was always there to aid you even if he had such a tight schedule! trust me, he’s always there to aid you no matter where he is.. oh you’re craving something? he already had it made and prepared downstairs for you to eat, oh you’re in pain? he’s already massaging your body to calm your nerves, oh you want him to get something for you? he’s already making his way downstairs to get it! let’s all be honest, this dragon is one of the sweetest darlings ever.. he’s just so thrilled that you’re carrying his little dragonlings, he couldn’t be happier! neuvillette’s so gentle with you.. even during intimate moments. neuvillette always has you laying down on a soft surface, his lips dancing across your flesh as his hair tickled your sensitive skin, he knows how to make sure you feel good.. sometimes he gets too lost in the moment he doesn’t even notice the littlest things! trust me, he knows how to make you feel good, he knows how to calm your hormones.. he knows how to pleasure you. neuvillette knows it all.

here you were, laid down comfortably on the mattress.. the sheets beneath you warming you up as you tugged on your husband’s white locks, emitting a soft grunt from him. neuvillette had been too caught up in the moment to notice only a little milk dripping from your other breast. instead, he kissed and sucked at your other one passionately, his hands caressing your waist in between bouts of fondling your tits. the sight of your exposed body sent a deep and primal wave of lust through him, it was enough to send him into pure euphoria as the feeling of your body against him was a kiss from the heavens above and the archons themselves. “my sweet angel," neuvillette whispered gently, his voice soft yet full of passion. "i want to love you from head to toe, i want every part of you to scream my name in delight.. i want you to experience pleasure beyond your wildest imagination. please, let me give you more litters of dragonlings inside this irresistible body of yours..”

𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘, 𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄

— “you’re positive, right? you sure you’re alright?” he mumbled, nuzzling his nose against your neck

WRIOTHESLEY honestly never thought of having kids himself, but that all changed when you announced your pregnancy to him a few months prior.. he was thrilled! a little shocked and nervous to say the least, since he was nervous he wouldn’t be a good husband and father to your future kids but it went by smoothly, wriothesley had a major soft spot for you and only you. his face always fills with love and joy as he took note of your swollen and pregnant belly, sometimes he lets you wander around the fortress but sometimes he knows you’re sensitive to many smells and all that so he just keeps you in the house. but yet sometimes.. he has too much on his hands that he never has time to come home. visiting him at work became a frequent thing but he grew more protective of you, telling w few workers down at the fortress to scram if they bother you too much. wriothesley loves having you around his office, but yet, huh.. who knew visiting him here could also have it’s benefits.

wriothesley held your knees, his large hands engulfing your flesh as he grunted at the mere pulse of your pussy around his cock. he knew he shouldn’t be doing this, someone could walk in any moment but who was he to deny his own wife? he can’t deny you when you’re all shy and embarrassed like that.. asking him to fuck you and breed you just like he did those few months before, who was he to deny a request like that? the larger male had kept a slow and steady rhythm with you, he promised himself he wouldn’t listen to your begging.. begging for him to go faster. but i guess it’s fine to break promises every now and then, right? wriothesley picked up the pace as he rubbed his thumb against your clit, the feeling of his cock pounding deep inside your cunt was enough to send you to the moon. “fuck.. taking me so well, princess.. ‘gonna make me cum quicker than normal.” he whispered against your ear, caressing your belly ever so gently.. his gentleness corresponding with his harsh thrusts. “what, hm? you want someone to see you in this state? ‘want someone to catch me breeding my pretty pregnant wife in my office?— mm.. seems like y’do.. look at how much you’re sucking me in.”

𝐋𝐘𝐍𝐄𝐘, 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄

— “oh? someone’s moody today.. did i do something wrong, sweetheart? you know i didn’t mean it, c’mon! talk to me.”

LYNEY was one of the main reasons for your constant smiles and giggles throughout the day, your baby isn’t even born yet and he’s already an excellent father! the magician always sits down and chats with you, chatting about all sorts of things. what you both can name your baby(s), what magic tricks he can teach to them, how adorable they’ll look in clothes he bought for them.. he’s excited to be a father and he makes that clear! he spreads the news to lynette and freminet, and sometimes he might accidentally spread the news throughout public eyes. i mean, in a positive way! lyney takes great pride in being the father of your kids, he wants you to stay healthy and happy so your pregnancy goes smoothly, that’s all he wants. lyney’s touch is always so gentle.. caressing you like you were a mere piece of glass he had to protect.. there was something about his touch that just never fails to make you squirm, he’s good with his hands, of course you know that.. he’s just so gentle with you in many ways possible, it drives you absolutely insane sometimes.

“yeah? you like that? hmm.. how about you show me where else you would like me to touch you, go on.” his voice was just as hypnotic as his gaze.. lyney’s lips pressed against your neck as he waited for you to show him. “c’mon, you can do this.” he urged you on, you could feel your hands moving on their own as your hands made their way to your breasts, pinching your sensitive nipples in between your fingers with your mouth hung open in pure ecstasy, sending nothing but deep electric vibrations throughout your body. “l—lyney.. here. i want you to touch me here.” your voice was laced with honey, the magician could’ve sworn he could taste and sense the need and want in your tone, it only made him desire you more. “mm.. we both know that’s not all, sweetheart. show me another, and show me how you want me to touch you there.” your other hand came down slowly, lazily playing with your clit as your body shook at the even the softest touch. lyney hummed against your ear as he pressed his finger gently against your lips, trying to silence you as he gazed down at your swollen belly the blonde magician held you close, pumping two fingers inside your hole, smirking against your skin. “there, there.. good girl. such a good girl for me, are you?”

𝐊𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐇, 𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐂𝐓

— “alright.. i have this, this and this for you. do you need anything else? still hungry?”

KAVEH is a a good and caring husband.. though sometimes he’s a little too busy, which often frustrates you since he isn’t there to support and be by your side half of the time. honestly, you can’t blame him sometimes, he always comes home late with a shit ton of papers and piles and piles of sketches and drawings he made that day, kaveh’s always busy, you can’t stop or deny that. most of the time, he makes up to you by providing you with the things you like.. like food you’ve been craving! kaveh adores talking to his baby within your belly, always talking about how ‘papa is always there for them’ and how much he loves them. to put it in a more easier way, the young architect considers your pregnancy an absolute blessing, you were sure he kissed the floor and thanked every star in the universe when he found out you were expecting his little one, he was overjoyed! despite his busy tasks, kaveh will be willing to provide you with anything you want. especially pleasure.

“you want me to please you here?” his voice rung in your ears, nodding slowly as you bit your lip. you missed this, you missed him. kaveh had too many rough and difficult schedules already, you missed him and his touch.. you missed everything, but tonight he was gonna give it all. your lashes slowly fluttered open as your hands tightened your grip on his shoulder, kaveh smiled softly, his eyes looking deep into yours with affection. "i’m giving you what you want now, sweet angel.” the architect caressed your thighs as he slowly lifted your dress up and started to caress your stomach. "you’ve certainly become quite attractive with your pregnancy bumps," he whispered softly, smiling warmly before he allowed his urges take over, closing his eyes as his tongue mingled with your folds, giving small kitty licks before pushing himself further into you, savouring your juices. he was slow, yes.. but he wanted to get used to your taste again, flicking his muscle against your sensitive bundles of nerves as he allowed himself to get lost in your taste, palming the bulge through his pants. “let go, lovely. let me claim you once more.”

𝐀𝐋-𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐌, 𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐘𝐀 𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐁𝐄

— “tell me, go on. what do you need? i’m in all ears.”

AL-HAITHAM is a hard individual to read, that’s for sure. sometimes you couldn’t really tell if he was happy about some story you decided to share with him and whatnot, but one thing you do know is that he’s absolutely thrilled about your pregnancy. alhaitham would be lying to himself if he said that the sight of your expanded belly didn’t awaken something in him. he’s always there, helping you around despite how busy he gets sometimes.. he’s calm and collected, sometimes you’d catch him talking to your baby when you’re asleep, talking about how pretty their mama is, and how excited he is to teach them about his own knowledge about this world they’re about to enter, he’s excited for his baby to be born and you know it. well.. maybe a little too exited.

he tried to be gentle, he really did. but you know he can’t resist you when you’re whining and whimpering like this, especially with that beautiful round belly of yours. alhaitham can’t help himself, really. he was needy, needy for you. he needed you and he needed you now. the scribe bit his lip as his large hands grabbed at your hips, lifting you further against him as his cock slid into your cunt so perfectly. alhaitham’s thoughts went blank at the sound of you calling his name in that way, as if you were speaking words of pure music. “mmh.. look at you. look at how good you’re taking me, even when you’re pregnant you’re still a slut for my cock now, aren’t you?” his hair fell onto his shoulders in wet clumps, “so fuckin’ full, so damn soft. you’re all round and smooth, the perfect body to bear our children." his dick buried myself into your walls, your juices coating it with white, “just like all my other possessions, this body is mine. maybe i should even put my name on it.. so damn perfect, yeah?”

#ᖭི༏ᖫྀ maryse’s diary ૮꒰˶˃̵ ^ ˂̵˵꒱ა #genshin smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #neuvillete x reader #neuvillette smut #wriothesley smut #kaveh smut #wriothesley x reader #lyney smut #alhaitham smut #lyney x reader #kaveh x reader #alhaitham x reader #kisses 4 all of em ! <3

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onlyswan · 7 months

Text

summary: in which jungkook is one of your greatest fears and you’re his achilles’ heel.

idol!jungkook x reader, est. relationship / fluff, angst / word count: 4.1k

content/warnings: i love you i want us both to eat well T_T sigh. oc has abandonment issues pls protect at all costs + oc is worried bc jk is working so hard :( + a worm (???) cameo. ily protective and hopeless romantic iw!jk <3 the ending 🥲💔 this drabble literally goes 📈📉

> in which masterlist!

note: *insert my melody mugshot scene* me if planting puzzle pieces in my drabbles + making oc cry (IM SORRY) were a crime. this was sm fun writing <3 i cried and laughed they’re so precious </3

—

“jungkook, baby?”

your silky voice fills the quiet apartment as you pad across the floor. you’re carrying your heeled mary janes by its straps, leaving you only in your white socks.

“babe?”

you frown as the seconds pass and you receive no response from your lover. there’s no music playing, no rustling somewhere in the kitchen or the living room. the lights are dim like they usually are, but the vivid colors are absent.

him? asleep at 9pm? jeon jungkook? it can’t be, but you’d be delighted to finally see him resting early if it was real.

and so, spurred by that tiny glimmer of hope, you carefully crack the bedroom door open, as if you’re fifteen again and you just came back from sneaking out of the house.

but you’re grown now; you live in a building with complete strangers for neighbors. you just got home from work, and you’re no longer used to sleeping alone because you share the bed with another person.

you find it empty. devoid of any creases, sign of life. as neat as a hotel room’s make believe that no one lived there until two hours prior.

the disappointment weighs down on your shoulders, causing them to drop.

he didn’t tell you he was going somewhere else after practice, you think to yourself as your lips permanently shape into a pout. what happened to going out with you for dinner?

agreeing, your empty stomach grumbles angrily.

maybe he got caught up at work. maybe he’s on his way home. maybe he’s on his way to the restaurant and he’s about to text you to come over. maybe he forgot about your plans and he’s having dinner with somebody else.

whatever the reason is, you’re too lazy and tired to whip up something edible on your own. with or without him, you’re going out and you’re stuffing your mouth full with rice and meat. after all, autumn is here, your dear old friend.

in search for a coat that will accompany you in your late-night stroll, you enter the walk-in closet and flip on the lightswitch.

you can count them with just your fingers— the amount of times you’ve felt this type of fear. absent eyes, melting spine, chills running to the top of your head down to your fingertips, mind racing with an overload of thoughts (it appears as a blank page, the same way that white is the presence of all colors of visible light). this fear… you associate it with impulsive mistakes, fire, police and ambulance sirens, and… empty closets.

jungkook’s side of the closet is empty.

clothes. shoes. bucket hats. beanies. belts. everything. gone.

but the floor is scattered with random pieces of clothing that look like they accidentally fell while someone was in a rush to pack them all in a bag. so in a rush that they didn’t even bother to pick them up.

your weak knees almost give way, but you force yourself to stumble backwards until your back hits the doorframe— you refuse to let yourself look like you’ve been carelessly discarded too.

not again. not again. not this goddamn vicious curse you thought you’ve already broken out of. not. again.

you blink away the tears threatening to spill as you scramble to open the zipper of your bag, but they spill anyway when your shoes clatter to the floor. you flinch at the thunderous sound, clutching your phone tightly against your chest. you keep your eyes closed throughout the defeaning silence that comes after.

the empty space mocks you. it knows your intricate design was not meant to live in an empty home.

you guess nothing much has changed. you’re still afraid of jungkook and his power to take away the sun, just as he did before, and you deeply despise being afraid. you don’t like it when the walls are closing in on you, poisoning your mind into believing that you’re small when the heart inside your chest burns with a fire brighter than that of the damn sun.

anyone would be foolish to leave you; it’s only jungkook who could have you mourning the death of the garden you’ve given the past five years of your life to.

—

jungkook returns to the apartment half an hour later. despite the long, grueling hours of dance practice he nearly didn’t survive, the excitement vibrating through his body is manifested through the lightness of his movements. he’s finally seeing his lover for the first time today… awake.

when he brought his natural body warmth along with him to the bathroom this morning, you sunk yourself further into mattress, beneath the thick blankets and against the soft pillows. by the time he had to give you your obligatory goodbye kiss before he leaves for work (or else you’d sulk about it for the rest of the week), half of your face has been hidden from sight. he was only able to press a loving kiss on your forehead, and then your eyelids that were fluttering as you dreamt.

night time comes and he is still deprived of the sight of your beautiful face? he somberly wonders as he finds you slumped over the dining table; he swears that there is a dark rain cloud hovering above you. your arms are thrown over the hardwood as they serve as a makeshift pillow for your vessel— his little firefly curiously bleak.

“baby? are you sick?” he asks, voice dripping with concern as he tenderly rubs your back.

the legs of the chair screeches against the tiled floor, neglectedly pushed behind.

“kook?” you manage to choke out, frantically sitting up once your muddled brain registered the familiarity of his touch on your bare skin.

his heart drops to his stomach as your tear-stained face comes into view. this isn’t how he envisioned your greeting; it usually came in the form of a bright light not harsh as the sunlight, a softness that begs to be held.

“are you crying?!”

your reply only comes out as a pitiful whimper. he stumbles a step backwards when you unceremoniously jump into his embrace, wrapping your arms over his shoulders. he gets a whiff of your sweet perfume, and then it becomes the air that he breathes, but he doesn’t have much time to revel in it.

“baby!”

he squeezes your waist taut against his body, affectionately nosing at your cheek before giving you a kiss. “did something happen? tell me- tell me.”

“jungkook,” your voice cracks as you utter his name, sounding almost like a plea, and then an endless string of heartbreaking sobs comes out muffled against his shirt. “where have you been?”

this sends him into a state of panic. seeing you in pain— it’s his biggest weakness. after all, you are his achilles’ heel.

“why? why, why, why?” you’re weak and pliant as he pulls your arms down, collapsing against his chest when he envelopes you in his embrace. he cradles your head in his palm, soothing you with gentle pats and shushes. “shh, shhh- it’s okay, i’m here now. everything’s okay, you hear me?”

his efforts prove to be fruitless, because you only seem to cry harder as he slowly rocks your bodies back and forth.

you shake your head, hands attempting to hold on to the back of his shirt to regain sensation in your limbs, but they miserably fail and fall on the sides of his hips.

“talk to me… please, mhmm?“ he hums quietly, pressing his soft lips to your temple. “tell me what’s wrong and your boyfriend will take care of it.”

from your sniffles to your hiccups, you remain unable to form any coherent response, and it leads his imagination to construct the worst possible scenarios. he feels his stomach turn with uneasiness, jaw clenching as he carefully pulls away to meet you eye-to-eye.

“did someone touch you? hurt you?” he spits out with urgency, and the unparalleled care he displays puts you in a daze, simply dumbfounded as he strokes your face. “huh, baby? just tell me and i’ll take care of the rest.”

now that you’re being reminded that jungkook could quite literally kill a person with his bare hands if they ever inflict harm on you, the fog is clearing up and you feel so incredibly… stupid.

but that’s more the reason why it’s difficult not to be sensitive when it comes to him; his absence proves to be lethal.

“shit, you’re scaring me.” he breathes out shakily as he taps your cheek lightly to bring you back to him, the distant look in your eyes triggering the emergency alarms in his head.

he unconsciously licks his lips and he tastes your tears; he doesn’t want anybody else to ever come this close.

“okay, okay- let’s put that aside for now. what do you need? should we go to bed and rest instead?”

“i thought you left,” you whisper as you hang your head in shame.

he blinks at you in confusion. “to where? my flight isn’t until next week, baby.”

fantastic! now you sound like the most dramatic, clingiest bitch to ever grace the planet. you bury your face in your hands to hide the battle zone between your heart and mind, but your boyfriend seizes your wrists because he can’t bear another second of it.

“is-is that why you’re upset…?” he asks with not a trace of malice or ridicule. he is only filled with guilt as it dawns on him then— how you’ve only gotten used to always having him around four years into your relationship, when he was taking a break from work.

the changes in his life are also changes in yours, but they still affect you in many different ways.

“then just come with me. i’ll make it work. maybe we can extend for a bit, spend an entire day by ourselves- there’s a lot of museu-”

“i thought you left,” you repeat yourself, exposed and vulnerable, vision swallowed by the darkness because you can’t make yourself look at him. “your clothes… they’re gone, and i was calling but you… you weren’t answering my calls so i thought…”

“my clothes?” he exclaims, eyes going wide as he realizes that they’ve accidentally slipped from his mind. “ahh, i thought about cleaning the closet while waiting for you so i moved everything to the other room!”

you open your mouth to speak, but much to your chagrin, no words come out. you purse your lips as your chin wobbles— the new wave of tears in your eyes mimic shiny crystals.

“____!”

and at the stern mention of your name, you know that you’re about to receive a (loving) scolding from your boyfriend. your lips curve into a frown before a sob inevitably escapes past them.

“why would you think that? why would i leave you? that doesn’t make sense at all, does it…?”

you shake your head, hugging him so tight, possibly tighter than you’ve ever done before. between your bodies, his heart is being unbearably wrung.

“i’m sorry, baby. seeing you cry like this breaks my heart…” he closes his eyes with a heavy sigh, resting his cheek on the side of your head. “but why would that be the first thing you think of…? i must be doing something wrong, right? have i been too busy with work? am i neglecting you?”

you’re breathless, a little dizzy— bloodshot eyes meeting his that are now gleaming with sadness. “no, it’s not like that! i just panicked, i couldn’t think straight.”

“are you sure?”

he looks at you skeptically, scanning your face.

“baby-” his voice breaks, then he pauses with his gaze still trained on you. “okay, i’m sorry. i… should’ve thought about what cleaning the closet would look like.”

“i was just being stupid.” you give him a small smile, rubbing your eyes to chase away the burning sensation. “sorry for scaring you.”

“stop, you’ll hurt yourself.” he tuts, pushing your wrists aside to cup your face in his hands, much gentler in comparison to your own self. his thumbs draw shapes on your soft skin, and then out of the blue, he curiously squeezes one of the space buns on top of your head. “wow, this is so pretty?”

“huh…? oh, thanks.” you mumble, still feeling out of it.

“this, too.” the white silk ribbon wrapped prettily around your neck, he means, which he hooks a finger on to tug lightly. it matches the lace straps on your shoulders that falls across the underbust of your dress, tied together to form a ribbon in the middle of it. that makes two, so clasically you.

and while it may be partly true that he’s trying to lighten the atmosphere, he just can’t defy the urge to express his admiration for you, even in a situation like this. he’s perpetually love-drunk.

“thank you.” you nod, shyly looking away to sniffle. “but you’re the reason why my makeup is ruined… need to wash it off before we go.”

“you’re beautiful either way, baby.”

“i know.” you scoff. “would you date me for five years if i wasn’t?”

he releases a throaty chuckle, capturing your lips in his with a smile of endearment that he fails to subdue.

“you’re so fucking cute. i love you-” he says with merely an inch of distance between you.

he grunts in melodramatic anguish, overcome by the insensity of his affections overflowing past the brim of his very being, leaning so close that the edge of the table digs into your lower back, surely to leave a temporary mark.

and he carries on to kiss you so many times that you lose count; you can only melt as you collect them in that bottomless pocket located somewhere in your soul, where all the love you’ve received across lifetimes is recorded to prove i was once here.

“i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you. i’m never leaving. you’re stuck with me and bam forever.”

if the time comes that the two of you break up, who would bam come home to? jungkook stubbornly refuses to have that conversation.

however, you still can’t let go of something, and you pout as you shove him lightly. unsurprisingly, his strong build doesn’t budge at all.

“but why didn’t you answer my calls?” at last, you gain enough energy to complain, but your face grows hot as the urge to cry returns. “i mean, what else was i supposed to think?!”

jungkook is struck by yet another lightning.

may the heavens have mercy, he’s been making you angry more than usual lately.

“shit, i forgot. i turned off my phone.” he mutters under his breath, feeling extremely regretful that he was not reachable when you needed him most to be. “i wanted to focus only on you tonight. what do they call it again…? leaving work at work?”

he winces guiltily.

“i’m sorry. maybe it wasn’t a smart idea.”

“no, i like that.” you almost interrupt him from talking because of how fast you are to brush off his apology.

he makes a mental note of it— the way you’re gripping at his shirt in small fists. you’re tense and overwhelmed; you need him to stay close.

“leave work at work. focus on me, and let me be your rest.”

unbeknownst to you, jungkook bites back his tears then. after all this time, he still gets mesmerized by the tenderness that naturally governs your every word and action; he thinks that he needs you more than you need him.

—

“just eat, baby. i’ll cook the meat for us.” jungkook coos at you as he cuts more meat into bite-sized pieces using a pair of kitchen shears.

“okay, then i’ll make sure that you eat.” you grin excitedly, dragging your chair closer to his.

you set down the tongs, grabbing your chopsticks to pick up a cooked piece of pork belly from the grill. you don’t forget to blow on it, mindful of burning his tongue.

of course, you don’t want to hurt him, but it would be especially painful for him as a singer.

“ahhh-” still busy with cooking, jungkook opens wide at your cue, catching the meat in between his teeth.

“rice,” he demands as he chews.

you scoop up rice from your bowl, and he devours it happily as he continues to flip the strips of pork belly lined up across the grill.

“mmhmm, it’s so delicious!” he dramatically says out loud. his eyebrows are knitted together and his legs are bouncing under the table, tell-tale signs of him enjoying the food.

witnessing this kind of reaction, any chef would be happy to slave away in the kitchen to serve him a meal. you recognize it in the smile of the owner after jungkook ordered more side dishes, and the way he dashed through the door to reduce the waiting time.

“yah, feed yourself, too!” jungkook chides you after you feed him meat three times in a row, but with an open palm that catches the juice that drips from the kimchi, you still tap your chopsticks against his lips. he spares it a glance before catching it using his tongue.

“i am!” you then rush to wrap a piece of pork belly in lettuce, dipping it into ssamjang before stuffing it into your mouth.

“good job, baby.” he grins in satisfaction, rubbing your back as praise. this makes you preen. “make sure to eat lots, got it?”

but then you’re back to spoiling him rotten, this time with an egg roll. so far, he has only touched his own chopsticks twice.

“i just told you to eat first!”

you glare at him, pouting. “but you worked so hard practicing today and you haven’t even eaten properly yet.”

he is too busy with work, and it’s not news that you’ve been worried sick about his health. it’s difficult to watch him work himself to the bone, but no one truly has the power to stop jungkook from doing what he wants, sometimes not even himself. and you find it impossible to fault him for it when you know that everything he does is done out of love. from the vigorous vocal and dance lessons, and to the deep cleaning of the apartment because his baby has been developing an allergy to dust.

“you need to make it up to your body. here, please?”

he loves being loved, jungkook thinks to himself as he eats the egg roll whole.

—

you were already prepared to go home after dinner, but your night owl for a boyfriend insisted on going on a walk at the park because he wanted to, and you quote, ‘see you awake for a little while longer,’ or whatever the hell he meant by that.

with his tattooed arm protectively swung over your shoulder, you’re engulfed in a wave of nostalgia. for the first two years of your relationship, before you started living together, you only met with each other at night, save for the very rare day-offs that he got. the only places that are still open after midnight are nightclubs, fastfood chains, convenience stores… and well, parks.

and he would always hold you close like this to make you feel safe, and the rest of you melts away while the side of your ribcage that he is pressed against remains to shelter your heart. on the contrary, you also remember how your bodies used to be so tense. you wanted to sacrifice more sleep and to walk to the other side of the park, of the street, to that other convenience store five blocks away because this one didn’t have the flavor of ice cream you wanted, anything… just… anything so you could be with each other ten minutes more.

and it was cold. it was always cold.

“what do you mean ‘it exploded’?”

“it seriously exploded! it was on fire! that’s why i went out to buy a new extension cord!”

“jungkook, it’s because you plug in too many things at once!” you cry out in frustration, your steps becoming heavy stomps. “i told you to stop doing that!”

“what do you mean? if it has six slots, doesn’t that mean six devices is the maximum?” he continues to stubbornly defend himself, and you can only hang your head in defeat. “otherwise, it’s a scam!”

“it is a scam! see…? they made you buy a ne-”

your sentence is cut short as your tongue gets paralyzed.

a dark and striped, long figure approaching ahead, slithering its across the grass.

your mind immediately registers it as the animal you fear most.

oh, no. no, no, no, no, no.

“jungkook,” you utter his name with a tremble.

the same fear you experienced only two hours ago holds you hostage once more, add all the hair in your body standing up and you’re as frightened as a cat.

“what’s wrong? yah! what are you doing?! baby, ba- fuck!” he sputters out as you forcefully pull him back along with you, displaying a type of strength and agility he doesn’t normally see.

the two of you continue to stumble backwards as you struggle to maintain balance, and somehow jungkook manages to switch your positions so that you’re the one who lands on top him instead of the other way around when you eventually end up as a heap on the soft earth.

he begins to feel his throat closing up at the sight of pure, genuine fear in your eyes.

“jungkook, snake- it’s small bu-”

you interrupt your own sentence with a high-pitched squeal, garnering looks from strangers moving and unmoving. in the blink of an eye, your boyfriend has swept you off your feet as if you’re light as a feather, driven by the instinct to protect the love of his life.

you cover your mouth in shock, your other arm coming up around his neck to keep yourself from falling.

you think you may have fallen for jungkook all over again.

“are you spiderman?”

he was too busy searching for the subject of your fear under dim lights, and so he looks at you in bewilderment to ask, “what was that?”

you shake your head with your wide eyes shining with faux innocence. you squeak. “nothing.”

he releases a sigh, followed by a chuckle of obvious relief and amusement as he squeezes your body closer to plant a kiss on your forehead. “aigoo, my ____! why are you so scared today? what am i going to do with you…? it’s just a worm.”

“are you sure? i swear i saw it raise its head!“

“i’m sure,” he lulls you. “i think worms can do that, too?”

your face twists in an expression of mixed bewilderment and distrust.

“that i’m not sure about, but it’s really just a worm! would i still be standing here if it wasn’t?” he clicks his tongue sharply. “we need to get your eyes rechecked.”

you roll your eyes with a huff. you’ve have had enough of his teasing before it even starts.

“uh?! i’m serious over here!”

this is new— you mean bickering with jungkook in a public place isn’t, but being carried by him like a bride while it happens definitely is.

“fine, i’ll go this weekend. happy?” you fake an obedient smile. “you can put me down now.”

he blinks, and then he adjusts the way he’s holding you to ensure that your dress won’t show what’s for his eyes only— for a split second, you were flying.

“i’ll go with you,”

“okay. now put me down.“ you tap his shoulder repeatedly to prompt him to heed your words. “babe, this is embarrassing!”

“nope,” he ignores your protest with nonchalance as he resumes to walk the path you’re on, evidently enjoying the attention he’s stealing and the way you’re curling yourself smaller to hide.

“oh my god! weren’t you just complaining about your body hurting?!”

“you were scared of me leaving,” he smiles, glancing down at you. “so now i’m gluing you to myself.”

that made you quiet for a while. inside your tote, the container of kimchi, wrapped in a plastic bag, rattles with his every stride. you noticed that jungkook loved it so much, so you ordered it to go when he went to the bathroom before you were to leave the restaurant.

“you know, we used to just hold hands,” you mumble with a childish pout. “like normal people?”

“this is very normal,” he argues.

the scenery becomes more familiar as he takes the long way home.

“some would even say romantic.”

a wave of nostalgia hits, and you visibly shiver.

you don’t know if he would remember, but he has said the same exact words once before.

you scrunch your nose, supposedly to give him a look of disgust, but a giddy smile betrays you. you are five years younger again, and the night ends with the moon bidding you an adieu.

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook drabble #jungkook one shot #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook smut

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stevebabey · 9 months

Text

Dustin denotes his plan as a stroke of genius. Steve calls it fucking crazy.

It is crazy — going down to the police station and giving a completely faux alibi for Eddie is crazy.

But then, Steve recalls the handcuffs on the hospital bed, keeping him strapped in even though Eddie’s hardly in a state for escape, all bandages and wires. Steve remembers the fitful sleeps he’s witnessed when visiting, remembers Eddie’s ashamed whisper of fear that one of the officers would smother him in his sleep if no one stayed with him.

Steve remembers the bats. Remembers all the other shit Eddie got dragged through.

And if Steve can lessen that blow… well, then maybe he is crazy for going through with the plan.

There’s no prepping Eddie for it, of course, considering he’s being guarded around the clock. Steve thinks it’s ridiculous considering how feeble he feels just looking at Eddie. When he— when they had gotten him out, there was a moment where he was more blood than boy. Just jagged skin held together by Steve’s hands and sheer will.

He shivers involuntarily. This is crazy, Steve thinks, shifting a bit in the chair out the front of Eddie’s room, waiting for the discussion across the hall to meet its end. It’s crazy, but he’s already done it now.

Sharp footsteps sound across the hallway and Steve’s head yanks up. His heart beats too fast and he presses his palms down into his jeans to wipe them, standing up quickly.

“So?” He asks, eyes darting between Chief Powell and Deputy Callahan.

“That’s quite the alibi you’ve provided, Mr Harrington.” There’s a cool expression on Chief Powell’s face, giving away nothing. “One that not many would be so willing to give.”

Steve swallows. Presses down the panic tied to the implications of what he’s told them— him and Eddie. Him and Eddie together.

“We’d like to question Mr Munson a little as well, get everything settled. You know,” He makes a little gesture with his hand. “Make sure your stories line up.”

A new strain of panic jolts in Steve’s stomach and he hopes it doesn’t show on his face. Glancing over his shoulder, he peers between the blinds and tries to find Eddie’s face. He can only see the hospital bed, stark white sheets and hundreds of tubes. Steve tries to remember that he anticipated this, he prepared for this.

“Now?” He asks, turning back to face the officers. He tries to appear like his uneasiness comes from concern, instead of panic. “He’s just had another dose of morphine, I’m not sure how up to questions he’ll be.”

Chief Powell narrows his eyes. Steve silently begs him to take the bait — he doesn’t want to defer the questioning, he just needs a little more wiggle room in case Eddie is slow on the uptake. He’s a performer though. Steve hopes that’ll be enough to convince them.

“Now is best.”

Steve nods, his face grave. “I understand. Just… if he’s a bit slow, give him time to find his answers. He doesn’t know that I’ve… told you.”

Steve’s hand presses down on the handle to the room and the door opens with a hiss. He enters the room, his eyes landing on the officer posted by the door first before they travel onto the bed, to Eddie.

The chair beside the bed is empty for now which means Wayne must be off getting some food. Good, Steve thinks. This will be easiest with a smaller audience to convince.

Eddie’s eyes are closed, resting as best he can, but at the new noise they peek open. The ripple of happy emotion will help their case immensely but Steve delights in the fact that that reaction is genuine. Eddie is happy to see him.

“Big boy!” He rasps as a greeting. He waves one hand up, wires sticking out of it and the handcuff on it clinks uncomfortably, and he begins a spiel. “Welcome back to my humble—”

He cuts himself off when he sees there are other visitors today besides Steve. The heart monitor jumps and Eddie’s hand drops, eyes back onto Steve in an instant.

“What’s going on?”

Steve strides to his side, his hand reaching out to curl his fingers around Eddie’s limp hand. His skin is cool to touch, fingers icy. Surprise jumps onto Eddie’s face but his fingers tighten their grip, holding his hand too. Steve sits down in the seat beside the bed and lets the real nerves of the situation make his voice tremble when he speaks.

“I— I had to tell them, Eddie. About your real alibi.”

To his credit, Eddie only lets confusion wash over his face for a moment before it turns to some mixture of anger and sadness. A furrow forms between his brows, his grip on Steve’s hand tightening, and Steve doesn’t think he’s acting at all when he says, “You didn’t.”

Huh. Maybe he’s figured it out after all, Steve thinks.

Steve nods solemnly, letting his thumb wander over the back of Eddie’s hand. He remembers what it’s like to dote on girls, on Nancy, and find it’s not nearly as hard to bring it all out for Eddie either.

“I had to,” He murmurs, reaching a hand out to brush back some of Eddie’s hair. The heart monitor spikes again and Eddie’s cheeks glow pink.

Behind them, Chief Powell clears his throat and Steve jumps, remembering himself and what he’s trying to accomplish here.

“Excuse us, Mr. Munson, we have a few questions for you.”

There’s a moment where they let their words register and Eddie takes a deep breath, squeezing Steve’s hand and giving a little nod. Chief Powell continues.

“Mr. Harrington here has come forward with a statement that would place you elsewhere than the scene of the crime at the time of Miss Cunningham’s murder. Can you recall where you were that night?”

The mention of Chrissy’s name makes Eddie flinch and Steve’s glad he’s already holding his hand so he can squeeze it gently. Eddie’s gaze drops to their intertwined hands and stares hard for a moment. Shuffling puzzle pieces into place.

Steve leans down, presses a soft kiss to his bruised knuckles, and says “Tell them the truth.”

Eddie inhales sharply, steeling his nerves and turns his attention back to the officers. “I was with Steve. We were… we were at his house.”

Chief Powell nods, scratching words down in his notepad. He hums in a way that tells Eddie to keep going.

“We were…” Eddie trails off and looks to Steve, trying to follow the story already planted. Steve nods, hoping it comes off like he’s trying to be comforting boyfriend, instead of a subtle nudge.

“…Kissing.”

Steve resists the urge to snort at the absurdity of the whole situation. This whole thing is so convoluted and it’s twisted that Eddie’s even been accused but Steve’s putting his fuckin’ reputation on the line and Eddie says they’ve been kissing?

He doesn’t even need to turn around to know some eyebrows have raised behind him.

“Kissing?” Steve hears Chief Powell repeat. “Just… kissing?”

Eddie’s attention snaps forward again and Steve can see him piece together the snappy persona, the Freak, the scary dog privileges that come with being an outsider. He straightens up a bit, shoulders squaring but Steve can feel the quake in his hand.

“I’m sorry, did you want a play by play of the whole act, Chief Powell? I can go into detail if you want, who took who’s pants off first, yanno, but I didn’t peg you for that kinda guy.”

Steve can’t miss this reaction, turning his head to watch both officers shuffle uncomfortably on the spot. Chief Powell tries to keep his power, eyes narrowing, but it’s hard to maintain when Steve dots another quick kiss across Eddie’s knuckle.

“Very well.” He seems to land on. “We’ll be back to collect a formal statement later—”

Eddie gives a faint squeak, his hand grasping Steves that much tighter.

“—but I’m happy to have the guard and cuffs removed from your room for now.”

A sigh so large escapes Eddie that his chest deflates a good couple inches and Steve feels his own shoulders relax a bit. Chief Powell steps forward, key retrieved from his belt and Steve winces seeing the ring of irritated skin around Eddie’s wrist. No doubt caused from the thrashing of night terrors.

He releases Eddie’s hand long enough for it to be freed, scooping it back up in his as soon as he can, properly this time. All fingers intertwined, palm to palm. Eddie eyes their hands again and Steve pretends to not hear the jump in the heart monitor.

The officers leave, including the one holding post, the door sliding shut with a gentle click and Steve holds himself still— unsure of how to start explaining what he had sprung on Eddie. He feels bad, dropping him in the deep end, even if it was for his own good.

“Eddie—” He starts.

“Hug me.” Eddie hisses out the corner of his mouth. When Steve doesn’t react, he says it again, fiercer - it doesn’t match the way he’s smiling so sweetly at Steve. “Hug. Me.”

Steve does as he’s told, shooting up onto his feet and hesitating only for a moment before Eddie’s arms are creeping around his waist — he leans over and tries to keep his weight off him. Eddie’s frazzled curls tickle at his cheek and Steve just burrows his face in further.

There’s a faint whisper into his ear. “They were watching still.”

Steve pulls back a bit, not to check over his shoulder, but to see Eddie’s face. He’s serious, eyes skirting the window behind them but the moment Steve pulls back, his eyes shift down and he softens.

“And now… kiss me too?” He says. His tone conveys that he knows he’s being far too cheeky. Steve’s wonders if the officers are still watching. Wonders if he’d still kiss him even if they weren’t. He casts a glance over his shoulder and is met with a empty window, the officers retreating down the hall.

He turns back to Eddie with an incredulous expression. “What? Getting you off murder charges not good enough for you?”

Eddie’s face shutters for a moment, as though every emotion to do with Steve’s sacrifice floods him at once. There’s a burst of gratitude when he doesn’t mention it — doesn’t mention everything Steve might be giving up for Eddie, everything that might crumble should the details of the case become public.

He chooses the joke again. Eddie always does.

“Yes, but remember, we’re madly in love,” Eddie sings, brows wiggling about on his face and making Steve snort. “So feel free to kiss me anytime you feel like it.”

Steve snorts. “Duly noted, Munson.”

Eddie throws his head back softly against his pillow and pretends to wail in pain. “Munson? That’s all I am to you? That’s how you treat your boyfriend?”

Steve can’t help but grin a little at the theatrics and finds himself thinking that of all the people to be stuck pretending he’s dating, at least with Eddie, it’ll be enjoyable. Well, at least interesting. It will certainly be an experience.

“You have no idea how I treat my boyfriends, baby.” Steve says, voice low, just to see if he can get Eddie’s heart monitor to jump again. It does, a steady beeping as the BPM climbs up a few numbers.

Steve can feel the blush on Eddie’s cheeks, he’s so close, and it’s so nice to see colour on his face — such a stark comparison to the paleness of- well, of older memories.

Steve grins. Despite every nerve that feels singed beneath his skin, overworked from all his anxiety — despite considering every potential backlash that faces both them outside this room, outside the hospital, Steve searches within himself.

He can’t find one single ounce of regret.

next part.

#gay ppl in my phone…. take this humble offering to tide u over between fics #everything has become long #i cannot help it #every idea is like 5k+ words #this is me trying to combat it #ruby writes steddie #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #pre steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #uhhhh that’s all folks #this is indeed the trope of steve telling the police they were fucking for their alibi lmao #10 points if u can guess which line is from the hunger games!#that’s what inspired this

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