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defectivefanboy · 1 year

Note

Hi darling! How are you? How have you been? Sorry for bothering, I wanted to request! You really write very well and keep up with the good work! So anyways.. Can I request smut for Alastor, Lucifer & Crimson reacting to their girlfriend wear a lingerie?

Thank you so much! Have a lovely day/night!!

　　　∧_∧::

(´･ω･`)::

/⌒ ⌒)::

/へ_＿ / /::

(＿＼＼ﾐ)/::

｜ `-イ::

/ )::

/／／::

／／::

( く:::

|＼ヽ:::

Imma go ahead and ignore that icky word that's in there and make it S/O because I want to write Alastor. Here is my request page for anyone who wants to in the future. Please take a read before you come into my inbox :D

Can I request smut for Alastor, Lucifer & Crimson reacting to their [REDACTED] wearing lingerie?

Overall notes: Stories written on this blog are GN until specified. While this story uses they/them pronouns, and while I don't mind female readers on my blog/interacting, love my girlies, hey girlies~, but I do not write female reader, and if you are a fetishizer. fuck off??? ew. How would you even do that on an x reader???

C/W: NSFW topics, Each character will have their own respective warnings, Sexual content, duh, no pronouns used, Bottom! reader favored, Established relationships. OOC?, I mean this would never happen, so yeah ooc

Notes: the giggle I had to stop when I got to Alastor good god, but Lucifer was honestly the funniest and most enjoyable to write. I had a smile on my face the whole time

Crimson ♧︎...

C/W: Slight Voyeurism (mention of his right hand man Alessio), Degradation, he def has a sir kink, don't lie to me, mention of stealing/sugarbaby (hes an asshole) mention of stalkers? admirers?? idk he just mentions people leaving you gifts,

For being an old (mafia) man. He's not opposed to a little dress up

Only if its you though. He would NEVER

He would be into something with a little more class.

Never will his darling look like some 2 cent floozy

So none of that crotchless bull honky. While he wouldn't be mad at it, he would rather leave more to the imagination. Something to work for, y'know?

And he would certainly work for it.

You really wanna get him going? Accentuate your hips. That's something him and Moxxie can agree. They like their darling with a little bit of width~

If you are gonna wear something for him, you best put on a show while you're at it.

He waits to do business after dinner, so why not let him enjoy his meal

For an asshole he has some manners now

Always making you cum once or twice before even taking your outfit off.

It likes to wait before unwrapping his gift <3

But once he gets more accustom to your interest

He's definitely going to be the one buying you the set

well its his money that's being used, Al is the one who goes and picked them up. Poor baby...

"You're so needy, baby. But did you need to go and make yourself out to be a whore in the middle of a meeting?" Crimson said as he placed a hand on your waist. His desk might not be the most comfortable place, but it will do for now. It's not like he can ignore you when you got all dolled up for him.

"I don't remember buying this one. Alessio leaving you gifts now too?" His fingers slid under the thin fabric as you let out a soft whine before answering, "I got them,.. custom made, sir." you said, trying to steady your breathing as his hands wandered between your legs. You let out a yelp as he spreads your legs out more for himself.

"And where are you getting this money from, huh? Hope you're not stealing it from me, brat." He gives you a soft glare and a questioning look as his eyes scan over the fabric that covered you, before his spotted the embroidered 'C. Knolastname' on the front of the waist band. With his index finger and thumb, he hooked them around the band and traced the deigned. Crimson gives you a smirk and placed a kiss right under your belly button before moving down.

"Hmm... maybe i do have a use for that ring then after all, but i should repay this favor before hand. Right, (Y/n) Knolastname?"

Lucifer 𓅰...

C/W: light choking, another one with a superiority kink, mentions of god (he calls himself it), size kink for the fact I thought this man was like 5'8-10 come to look up his like 6'2-3, slight crack fic (because he wouldn't take anything seriously until truly needed, he giggles when you change in front of him, it's always a crack fic with him)

HE HAS A MATCHING SET!!

god how my perception of these characters have been warped

but he has most definitely bought you outfits before, probably the only one to go out of his way to get matching ones.

Even got a few custom ones made, you can always tell by the little duck embroidered somewhere on them.

He's game for anything you wanna wear. He isn't gonna stop you, if anything he's gonna encourage you to wear more.

He's helpless for you in such a pretty outfit and it's all for him?

He feels loved and he's sure to pay that back ten fold in the bedroom.

You might not allowed to be in heaven, but he can show you what it was like~

I maaay..be a bit delusional, but in private I feel like he's all giggly and shit.

Oh an he definitely was the first time you pulled this from your hat of tricks.

Almost a little to giggly i'd sat, to think the ruler of hell would be this flustered over an article of clothing is beyond me

But once he starts to become use to it. He starts to expect it. What? He is the king of Hell after all.

And he truly expects to be treated like one. (He's a brat when he doesn't get attention)

Be it sinner, hell-born, or even the 'perfect OC/that everyone loves who is half angel half devil/stronger then god/etc' he's gonna ask you one thing constantly...

"Please, my angel of death? Just one time, for me? Then i'll never ask again. Promise."

"I'm not wearing a duck tail while you fuck me. When- Where in hell did you even get these made?" you asked as you held up the pair of yellow lingerie with a duck tail sown on the back of the waist band.

"You shouldn't need to worry about that, my love. All you need to worry about is wearing them for me." He said with a light sigh and a shrug of his shoulders, a soft smile resting on his face.

"Again, I am not. fucking. wearing. them, you prick-!" As soon as you got the name out you felt yourself against the wall. The soft smile gone from Lucifer's face as a dark look pooled in his eyes, an unsettling stare never leaving yours. Before you could apologize, his hand wrapped around throat, his index finger pushed your face up to his as he spoke with a low voice.

Almost like that cheery devil was just a front...

"Oh, how far from grace you have fallen, my dear. Seems you already forgotten your god. But that's no trouble at all, for tonight..." His grip on your neck got tighter as he got closer to your ear and a sinister smile made itself at home upon his pale face. Y'know, you really only notice how big he is when he gets like this... oh that wasn't a complaint. Not when his presence alone encaged you against the wall, let alone the possessive grip that he had on you.

"I'll teach you how to praise my name once again."

Alastor 𐂂...

C/W: Teasing, sadly abo mention, WHY ARE YOU BOOING ME I AM RIGHT, blood mentions, possessive behaviors, light choking, mentions of cannabalism, duh, playing more into the abo, uhm, sniffing? idfk leave me alone its late. oh ft: a guest at the end.

Another man with class, just not as much. I mean, come on, he's still a sinner~

though when you present yourself to him in your outfit, he can't help, but raise a brow as he tried to keep down his smile at the sight.

Definitely a big tease, a BIG tease

Especially when you look so cute for him, squirming under his indifferent gaze. Oh how he wants to squeeze your cheeks and leave you begging for release~

He's also one for a game of cat and mouse.

so when you go out into town with him make sure to slip his favorite pair of lingerie under your clothes

And if you're one wear revealing clothes, then I hope you're ready for a possessive (and bloody) overlord, ad pray for anyone who thinks they can touch you, let alone come near you.

oh AND OHHHH wanna know how you really got him? How you really got to him??? When the static cuts out and that Louisiana drawl' comes out of him. (I would die. again.)

(If I say he has a rut would that be considered A/b/o? I mean he is a deer demon, same with other demons in a similar case)

but WHOOO WEE

for someone who normally has a distaste for touch that isn't initiated by him, He'll enjoy a night or two (on the rare occasion) where he lets you indulge yourself

though, do be careful now, he's a gentleman up and foremost, but he's not always a patient man at that. He's always willing to return the favor tenfold~

And if you already couldn't tell, he loves the color red, basically lives in it. So it's safe to it sets something off in him

be the cannibal in him, or maybe he just likes the color a little too much

but at the end of it you'll more marked up then a rough draft <3

"Bless your heart, Dear. Did you think I wouldn't notice... your little getup? His clawed fingers trailed your sides as he leaned down to whisper in your ear. His frame trapping you in your seat and god, would it be terrifying for any mere sinner in this position, if it wasn't for the playful twitch of his ear that told you otherwise. Someone was enjoying this more then he let on...

It wasn't the first time you had teased him in public, but it was the first time people really had the courage to come talk to you. To give the poor souls benefit of the doubt, you were just sat at the bar talking to husk. Though, you would also think the red pinstripe outfit and microphone that rested at your side gave itself away.

"And it seems i'm not the only one. Now, if I were to kill everyone in this god forsaken hotel. Whose fault would that be, hm?" A clawed hand made it's way around your throat as it softly pulled you back, letting him have full access to your neck. Burying his face in your neck, he took in a deep breathe as static radiated off him.

"Or maybe I should have you for a meal tonight. You do smell quite... appetizing, my darling. Such a shame I have to ruin that pretty little outfit of yours." Before you could even gasp a grumbling and angry voice rang out, bringing you both back into reality.

"Can you two not fuck at my bar please? You are just as bad as that damn spider."

"Oh of course Husker! We'll get out of your fur right now actually! Wasn't like these pathetic things were going to get a taste of you anyways."

#foolish writing #request #request open #helluva boss #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x male reader #alastor x gn reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #helluva boss crimson #helluva crimson #crimson knolastname #helluva boss crimson x reader #crimson x reader #crimson x male reader

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kookslastbutton · 1 year

Text

prove it to me ༓ jjk (m)

✑ Summary: "I'm not your baby Jungkook. Remember that." Those are the words you say right before jumping into a one night stand with Jeon Jungkook, the man who's constantly annoying you with his college fling stories. You decide maybe just this once you'll play into his game and prove that he's no more average than the rest.

Pairing: fuckboy!jungkook x fem!reader

AU/genre: PWP, smut, humor, fluff, one-sided e2l, friend of friends, oneshot (for now?)

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 5.3k+

Warnings: arguing, swearing, sexual tension, denial of feelin’s, kook’s kind of an @$$ but he got some truth to him, oc's jaded & not buying into kook's bs, myg being a good friend then ditching lmao, kook likes calling oc petnames, kook is bunny boy

sexually explicit content: dom!jk, switch sub!reader, semi-awkward first kiss, unprotected s*x (pls stay safe everyone!!), teasing, foreplay, dirty talk, some manhandling, rough sex, t*itty suck, f*ngering, penetration, cunnilingus, doggy, multiple orgasms (f. receiving), kooks calls her pretty girl, some degradation/dumbification (sl*t calling) & oc has bit of an actual dumby moment but she's still fairly rigid, but not a full brat? Lmao idk

Now playing: Monster in me, Breakfast, LOUD

A/N: ahdjsj?c it's here! 👉👈 a thousand apologies that this is out way later than planned! Uni getting most of my time 😟 But its here and I'm so pumped to share it with you guys!! Hope you enjoy 😗💕

Taglist:

@marcoazz2 @demiec0re @jcrl99 @muah-minhoe-8 @whoa-jo @jeongukkieeeeeeee @sweet4jenni @chanjwl @kimtaesss @jexizia @vexstrils @notchia @dollypoetry @cherrysoulth @burnahtsw @icantpickabiasugh @megaamonn

Jung freaking kook. Just look at him sitting over there, half-naked and wet. Sure, he’s got a towel thrown over a shoulder but it’s so small it’s doing fuck all to dry him off. Obviously he chose it on purpose. He thinks he’s such hot shit but you think he looks like a drowned rat.

And look! He’s got Namjoon’s apartment floor drenched with the pool water he tracked in! Man, if this was your place you’d be handing him a nice mop and bucket right about now.

"They were begging me to go a fourth round, but I was winding down, y'know?" Jungkook's voice echos obnoxiously off the walls. You mentally roll your eyes. He’s got a big mouth too. This must be your twentieth time hearing the same spiel about his little rendezvous with two chicks during undergrad. News flash Jungkook, you're not a god!

The guys are into it, though. You scan the room. Hoseok's on the verge of drooling, and Jimin can't stop grinning. Namjoon and Seokjin are leaning back in their seats, slight smirks pulling at the corners of their mouths. And Taehyung? Don't even get started on him. The man excused himself for the bathroom about ten minutes ago and is still yet to return.

Men. You decided to spend your one free Saturday with men.

You should have accepted Soyeon's offer to go drinking instead. This was the downside of being one of the only females in this so-called "friend group". None of your girlfriends were here! Sure, other women were around, but they were far too busy slinging themselves all over that perfectly chiseled bod–no.

Don't finish that thought.

Lots of guys go to the gym, __. Jungkook is nothing special. These women are obviously brainwashed; unlike them, you don't have time for his little boy games. It's time to get out of here.

"Okay, well, I'm heading out. Nice seeing everyone," you say, rising from your seat.

Jimin whips his head around. "What, already? We haven't gotten to the good part yet."

“There’s a good part?" You scoff. “Or, you mean Jungkook making girl number two squirt all over the bed? Heard it before, don't need to hear it again."

"It was girl number one," Jungkook butts in, eager to correct.

Whatever. You swing the apartment door open, phone and keys in hand. "See most of you on work Monday." You allow the door to slam behind you.

"She okay?" Jungkook furrows his eyebrows, wheels turn in his head.

"Don't worry about her. Work's probably got her beat." Namjoon cracks open a can of beer unfazed.

Jungkook nods, chewing on the bottom of his lip. "Does she–"

"The answer's no. __ doesn't need a good fuck, so put those thoughts away."

Shit, Jungkook swears internally.

Monday morning comes like hell on your doorstep. You're groggy when you wake up, barely getting to the shower. You considered skipping the ritual entirely but couldn't, not with how gross you felt. Project deadlines were right on your tail too, so you needed to either slap yourself awake or kiss your precious job promotion goodbye. You choose the later.

"Hey Minji, how are those files coming along?" You round the corner of the small office. It's 10 o'clock now, and everyone is typing, scanning, copying, and making phone calls until steam comes out of their ears.

"Almost finished." Your coworker, only a few years younger, responds. "Just have to tie up some loose ends, and then I'll hand them to you for review."

"Great. Thanks for–" You pause when you catch a slight grin spreading across Minji's face. Despite all the chaos today, Minji's definitely been the most cheerful. "You seem really happy today. Something good happened recently?"

Minji suppresses the grin and squeezes her palms in her lap. “Nothing in particular. Just glad to be a part of the team."

"Yeah, right!" Hoseok sends a knowing smirk, nearing the two of you. "Someone had a busy night last night, huh? It's okay. __ is cool. You can tell her anything." Once close enough, your coworker pulls you into a casual side hug.

You grimace. It feels weird while at the office.

"Do you mind?" You shrug him off. "It's work hours."

"Well, actually," Minji starts, cheeks rising. "It's nothing like that. I'm going on a date tonight. I'm just a little excited."

Hoseok's mouth forms an 'o', eyes widening. "Really? Who is it?"

"Uh, his name's Jeon–"

"Jungkook?” Jimin’s head pokes up from across the cubicle. Eavesdropping as usual.

"No…," Minji replies. "Who's Jungkook?"

"He's just a close friend of ours." Hoseok gestures between the three of you. “He’s Jeon Jungkook.”

"He's only you guy's friend," you say bitterly. Considering that player as a friend is pushing it for you. Really pushing it.

"C'mon, what's with you and Jungkook?" Jimin says, shooting you a borderline glare. "You've had bad blood with the guy since you met him.”

"Oh, don't start with me Park,” you fold your arms. "You know exactly why I feel the way I do."

You think he'll have a comeback, but he doesn't. Jimin simply sighs and returns to his work. Figures he'd be the one to jump to Jungkook's defense. The man practically idolizes him. That, and he's been best friends with him for the past eight years. Loyalty sure has its perks.

"So! If it's not Jungkook, who's the guy?" Hoseok asks, hoping to switch the topic around.

Minji jolts up in her seat. “Wonwoo," she says. “His name’s Wonwoo. We ran into each other at a friend's birthday party last night."

"Well, good luck with him tonight," you reply, returning to your office. "I'm sure it'll go well." Enough small talk. You have a whole seven hours plus of work left.

6:45 p.m.

The clock on your screen blinks at you. Everyone's gone home by now, and so should you. But you're still here, fingers frantically typing on the keyboard.

“__, go home already." Your finance officer, Min Yoongi, stands in the doorway, resting an arm against the frame. He's got his soft, leather briefcase in the other hand; yes, the one you got him for his birthday a couple months ago.

Yoongi was the only person in your department who often stayed as late as you. He looked like he was on his way out, though. Must have gotten what he wanted done. "I'll get there eventually," you say. "Just finishing some reports for our meeting tomorrow."

"What reports? They're all done."

"Well…my reports."

"You mean, the ones that we don't actually need?" He quirks a brow.

"They're extra just in case. There might be something off, and this might help." Yeah maybe you were making shit up to keep yourself busy, so sue you. What else were you going to preoccupy your time with? You already polished off the last pint of cookies and cream ice cream.

"You're cute." Pushing off the doorframe, Yoongi nears your desk. "You know boss doesn't look at them."

"You never kno–"

"Hey." The authority in your co-worker's voice makes you straighten your posture. "Let's cut the bullshit." In a moment of urgency, he leans his body between you and your computer.

"Excuse you?" You shove his shoulder with both hands, but he stands firm until your computer goes pitch black.

"Here's what we're gonna do." You're gently pulled up and out of your seat by the wrist. "I'm gonna get a drink, and you're coming with me."

The man gathers your coat and bag, slinging them over a shoulder. You feel your legs being lifted off the ground soon after. "I can walk, you know." You reflexively kick your feet in protest. It's been a while since he's picked you up like this.

Yoongi switches off the light and makes his way to the elevator at the end of hall. "Not right now, you can't." He pushes the button, calling it up.

"Ah look at you," you purr, locking your arms around his neck. "Someone's been watching k-dramas after hours. Trying to confess or something?"

He enters the elevator for both of you, amused by your playful remark. "I consider you my friend, __. But if I were trying to confess, I'd just come out with it. Subliminal messaging isn't really my thing.”

Understanding his notion, you close your mouth. What were you supposed to say to that?

You aimlessly watch as the woman pours freshly shaken alcohol into a short, round glass. She finishes the concoction by sticking an orange wedge along the rim. A cocktail, a classic but timeless favorite. Yoongi takes a sip of his whiskey and tilts his head towards you. "Whenever you're ready to spill your guts, let me know."

"Hmm? I don't have anything going on." You down a shot yourself. "Nothing to spill here."

He gives his glass a gentle swirl, liquid splashes against the sides.

"Why are you looking at me like that? Nothing's wrong," you say.

He sets his glass on the bartop, straight-faced.

"Honestly, I don't know what you're getting at. We just came for a drink."

"It's him, isn't it? Bunny boy with the six pack."

Your nose scrunches knowing exactly who he's referring to. With little thought you give a short 'no'.

Yoongi stares at you nonchalantly. "Nice try, but I'm not an idiot, __. I don't know the guy that well, but I know enough that he's been on your mind a lot. You've been real prickly towards him too. Something tells me he's the reason you've been burying yourself in work lately.”

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm just committed to my work. You know me, Ms. married to her job and all." You feign a chuckle. "I assure you, Ju–he's the furthest thing from my mind."

“Mhm...right." He hums unconvinced. "Tell me ms. married to her job, why won't you say his name?"

"Because-" You cut shortly. "I'd rather not think of him right now. Can't we talk about something else or drink in peace?"

He reaches for another taste of his burning liquor. "Alright."

Minutes pass before either of you speaks. You and Yoongi do this often, and you cherish it quite a bit. Sitting in silence after a long day at work soothes both your minds. But the man was right. Your mind isn't settled at all. No. It's buzzing with constant deadlines, family expectations, social commitments–

"Okay it's him!" you blurt out, earning the attention of a few passing diners and even the bartender herself. Shoulders slouch as you grip the glass in front of you. Your eyes shift to your right, side-eyeing Yoongi, silently staring back at you.

"Jungkook...he’s just frustrating,” you finally say. “Fucking this girl, fucking that girl. Do you think I wanna know how many places he's stuck it in? No, I don't. But does that stop him?“

You down your second shot.

"He's been going on about the same lay for three years now. Three years, Yoongi. Honestly, how long's he going to keep it up? ‘They were begging to go again’, like who fucking cares?!” Blood boils through your veins.

A third shot.

"I mean, how good can he be? If you asked me, he's average! Average Jeon Jungkook with probably an even more average dick!”

“Damn, you’re pretty feisty angel.” A man slides on the stool to your left. “Calling me average and everything. Kinda hurts my feelings y’know?”

You nearly choke picking up the man’s voice and scent– fuckin' Jungkook.

You swivel to face him. “Drop the pet names Jeon. I'm not your angel, and I seriously doubt I’m wounding any so called ‘feelings’,” you spit. “Why don’t you take your ego somewhere else…” You nod at the group of women gawking in the corner. Jungkook follows your gaze before meeting your eyes again.

"Not interested," he shrugs his shoulders.

“Oh wow, really?” Maybe sarcasm wasn’t the best way to go but since when did Jungkook start passing up overly eager women…shocker.

"Don't be insulting, __. I probably sleep around a lot more in your head than in real life."

"Please, who are you fooling," you reach for your fourth shot. Jungkook steals it out of your hand, however, shaking his head.

"No, no, no." He sets the glass on his other side, furthest from your grasp. "Someone might be getting a little ahead of herself."

Teeth clench. Is he patronising you?

"Do you mind?" The words spit out of your mouth. "I'm trying to sit and have a nice drink with my friend."

"And what friend would that be?" Jungkook leans forward in his seat, sparing a glance past your figure.

"Yoongi."

"Oh, him…hate to break it to you but he left with some woman earlier.”

You turn around immediately. He's gotta be messing around but damn– Yoongi really left you. That little snake. He'll be hearing from you tomorrow.

Rising from the barstool, you snatch your belongings and make your way to the exit.

"Where are you going, __?” Heavy feet patter after you, following you to the parking lot. "Just 'cause Yoongi's gone doesn't mean you have to leave."

"I'm going home, Jungkook. 6am comes awfully quick." You want him to take the hint that you don't wanna stay but no such luck. You're instead blocked in your path, Jungkook facing you square on. He's a little close, but it doesn't matter. You'll just push around him.

"Alright, I'm sorry!" He wets his bottom lip. "If I've been too explicit about my private life, I'm sorry.” You watch as he rubs the side of his neck. “I tend-I tend to get carried away, especially around the guys. But after hearing what you said back there, I realize I should chill a little."

"Congratulations, you've figured it out.” You stare blankly at the man. “Can I leave now?" Brushing past him, you open your car door and jump inside. Dumb apology.

Fingers reach to shut the door, but Jungkook grips the rim, propping it open. "That can't be all." He leans down, shaking his head. "You clearly have some kind of vendetta against me and I'd like you to tell me why…please."

You blink up, patience running thin. You’re wondering what you should say to get him off your tail, but the longer you linger the more it’ll look like you’re staring. And heaven knows Jungkook gets enough eyes on him as is, especially with his biceps bulging from his shirt.

Not that you’re paying attention or anything but take tonight for instance with those women ogling him in the bar. Like, did he have to wear a white tank top tonight? Show off.

“You’re so arrogant,” you say, clenching your fists. "You act like you're the best thing this world's ever gotten."

It’s obvious that your words strike a cord inside Jungkook. His face, riddled with concern and protest. 'Him, arrogant? What on earth is this woman talking about?' his eyes say.

"That's not true. When have I ever acted like that?"

Baffled. That’s what you are. It takes every ounce of gull left in your body to step out and meet the man at eye level.

"You're kidding. What do you call the constant retelling of your college fling then? Because you sure love the pedestal it gives you! Must have heard it fifty fricken times by now."

"Okay, maybe a bit then, but like I said I just get carried away. Lost in the moment if you will. The guys wanna hear it anyway, and it's just one story, __. Hardly enough basis to say I love myself or some shit."

"But that's exactly it, Jeon. You think everyone will worship at your feet just because you have that one story, a bunny like smile, and the body of a–"

"Woah, wait a second. Did you say worship at my feet? I get you're pissed off at me but come on, that's a bit much."

"It's n---shut up Jungkook!" You snarl. How dare he interrupt you after demanding you to tell him what's wrong. "Don't you ever get tired of running your mouth all the time?!"

"Me running my mouth? You're the one yelling sweetheart." His icy tone sets you off.

"Listen asshole, just for once, can't you just listen! You're so average, fuck!"

"Alright babe, I hear you, damn!" His eyebrows knit together. "And stop saying that I'm average! I'm not, okay?"

"There you go again, acting all entitled with that over inflated ego. I said it before and I'll never stop saying it–you're an average fuck! I don't care how many people you get in your bed."

Jungkook paces backwards, fingers laced behind his head. He cranks his neck back and chuckles. "Oh sweetheart, that's where you're so, so wrong."

"No idea what you're talking about," you say, unmoved.

He steps forward, complete disregard for your personal space. His breath heats your skin. "You absolutely care who I'm with...who I'm talking to...and especially who I'm fucking." He places a hand on the roof of your car. "You care so much that it's eating at you, bit by bit."

You do all you can to ignore the way the back of your neck fires up and how your heart picks up as he speaks but–dammit, this isn't the time! He's messing with your sanity. Or maybe, it's the shots kicking in. Both likely. Either way, you’ll be damned if you let him catch on.

"Fuck off Jungkook!" You push against his muscular chest. The force should have sent him stumbling back, but it only makes him slightly jolt. Courtesy of his rock-solid form.

"Why? 'Cause I'm right?" He traces down your figure. “ 'Cause you're scared of what will happen once we get close?”

Palms sweating, you struggle to form a proper response.

Option A: No, you're not scared in which Jungkook will likely challenge you.

Option B: Yes you're scared in which you let Jungkook be right and your efforts will be in vain.

Or Option C, what you've been doing all along: Fuck off!

Lust clouds over Jungkook's eyes as you remain motionless.

"How 'bout you prove it to me." His voice cuts through your contemplation. "That I'm wrong, that you don't want this, and I'll do the same for you."

You know exactly what he's insinuating– a one night stand. You swore you'd never give in to his antics. Then again, you never thought things would escalate this far either.

But if you agree to sleep with him now, you'll look like a hypocrite. And what of the countless speeches you made about not wanting to be another one of his swooning, giddy women? Still… it's not like you want to sleep with him. And if you do sleep with him, and he's average after all, you'll finally have something to testify to.

That'll knock him down a few pegs.

"So…" You hear Jungkook drawl. "Is that smug expression you got on a yes?"

"Hurry up and unlock the door,” you snap, manners going awry. “I wanna get this done as soon as possible.”

"Relax will you.” Jungkook fiddles with his keys, nearly dropping them with every shuffle. “So bratty when you’re down to get some.” He ushers you forward once managing to crank the door open.

You ignore his snide remark, taking in the spacious room. “Don't tell me that's your bed,” you say. There, in the middle of the living room was a mattress. It was on the smaller side but not in bad shape. If that’s where Jungkook intends to give it to you though, you’ll gladly walk out.

“Seriously?” You're thrown a slightly pissed expression. “It’s for emergencies, okay? My room's down here." He breezes down the hall adjacent to the living room. You follow.

“Better?” A lamp switches on from the corner of the bedroom. The room’s a little bare but you can’t complain, at least it was clean.

"Yeah, its fine." You flicker your eyes at Jungkook, arms length away. Chest tightens, legs begin to shake.

This isn't a dream. You're fully conscious and you're about to jump in bed with Jeon Jungkook.

Inadvertently, you pause down at his lips–they look soft.

Oh fuck it...you can’t stomach anymore delays.

Feeling the adrenaline, you shake your coat off and toss it on the chair to the side. You march up to Jungkook next, grip the fabric of his shirt, and smash your lips against his.

It's unusual at first, sloppy even. You're moving your lips the best you can but it's a struggle getting into a rhythm. Likely because you've never kissed each other before, let alone made out.

The temptation to snort at how ridiculous the whole thing must look jabs at you. But it's when you feel Jungkook smiling through each kiss that it hits you like a ton of bricks–your lips have been the only ones moving.

"So that's how you kiss huh?" Breaking apart, he stares down at you, tongue in cheek. He's teasing you.

Rather than give an answer you smirk and twist the fabric of his shirt. You press your lips to his again but this time it's with more confidence and determination. A heavy grunt falls from his mouth and rough hands grip your hips as teeth clash against teeth.

"Fuck, slow down baby," Jungkook pants between kisses.

You ignore his plead and card through his hair with both hands, yanking on his soft, black strands. "I'm not your baby, Jungkook. Remember that."

Your back slams against the door instantly, knob rattling at the sudden pressure. With one hand, he anchors your wrists above your head while the tatted one wraps tightly around your waist. Saying this isn't turning you on would be a lie, a big fat lie.

"What do you want me to call you then?" Your thighs squeeze together when you feel his bulge brush against your center. His pecs graze atop your breasts too, causing a shiver down your spine. "Can't call you baby, can't call you angel."

You bite the inside of your cheek and gaze at Jungkook through your lashes. A devilish smirk spreads across his face at your chosen silence.

"Guess I'll have to figure it out along the way."

He inches forward, capturing your lips. His tongue licks the seam before pushing in the crevasse. Though you fight, you can't stop from moaning into his mouth.

You find your thoughts drifting to all the other places you'll feel his tongue tonight. Maybe on your neck, or your breasts, inside your thighs–fuck. You're about to soak your panties to bunny boy.

One by one, you feel the buttons of your silk blouse being pulled apart. The delicate material pools at to your feet in seconds, leaving you in your lacy white bra.

"Pretty," Jungkook plays with a strap before bringing his hands down to cup the swell of your breasts. "Not what I expected though...thought red was more your color." He flashes a cocky smirk.

"Very funny, Jung–"

You gasp when his thumbs start swirling tiny circles around your clothed nipples. "How hard are they?" He says.

"Take it off and find out."

"Fuck.” He squeezes your breasts. "You sure?"

Once giving a nod, you're pulled to the bed. Jungkook guides you on your back before settling himself around your waist in a straddled position. When he leans forward to reach behind your back, you feel his length poke you.

"Mm," you muffle a small moan.

He raises a brow. "What's gonna happen when I'm inside you huh?" The straps of your bra sweep off your shoulders. Cool air hits your breasts, nipples pebbling instantly.

"I can take it," you say.

Jungkook's eyes dilate at your bare breasted state. "Sure you can babe." The tips of his fingers graze along your sides. "Cause I'm just an average fuck yeah?"

His palms cup the underside of your boobs, squeezing lightly. He then lowers his lips to the ridge of your ear.

"Gonna make you come by your tits pretty girl." Your back arches as he digs his fingers into the soft flesh.

"Jungkook-"

"Fuck," he hisses. "Rolls off your tongue just right." He trails from your neck down to your naval, leaving open mouth kisses along the way.

Your core twists at the warm sensation. You wanna tell him not to leave marks but something inside you secretly hopes he does.

Jungkook traces back up your torso, giving your buds a few flicks with his thumbs before taking one between his lips. He sucks firmly, switching between breasts. Occasionally you let out a yelp when his teeth tug at them ever so slightly.

You desperately want to rub your thighs together due to the wetness pooling between them but the weight of Jungkook straddling you doesn't allow for much movement.

“Be a good girl and stay still," he says, cocky grin plastered on his face.

You're not a good girl, you pant back though your nearly frozen body would say otherwise.

A few more flicks of his tongue and you know he's made you come from your tits as promised.

Jungkook leans back on the his knees. "I really wanna fuck them now." He tugs on a nipple playfully but you slap his hand away.

"Don't even think about it," you say. "They're sore enough".

"You liked it though."

"Well no shit, I came didn't I? Can't believe it," you mumble under your breath. "Anyway, it's your turn now. Take your shirt off," you nearly demand."

"Even after coming, you're still a fiesty little kitten." He brings his arms around his waist. Your core tightens as you watch the white tank top lift up his muscular upper body and over his head.

"Satisfied?" He studies your expressions.

Instinctively, you trace down his sweaty build; starting with the collarbone. You work your way over to his shoulders after until his pecs draw your attention. And then his diaphragm, leading to the ‘v’ outlining his pelvis.

"Take them off too."

Jungkook gives you a pleased look. "Wanna see how average my cock is?"

You move to an upright position, face close to his. "More like wanna see what it can do." You snap the band of his sweats. "Hmm, what'd you think about that playboy?"

Jungkook's cock twitches. He needs to be inside you before he blows a load in his pants here and now. He gets up from the bed, hooks his thumbs in his sweats and pulls them down along with his briefs.

Alarms go off in your head as his half-harden cock is yanked out of it's confinement. It slaps against his abdomen, tip glowing with precum.

Swallowing, you fiddle with your own pants. It's huge and it's going inside you.

"What if I told you I wanna taste you first?"

You pause your movements and peer up at the man. "You mean...down there?"

You wanna slap yourself from how naive you sound but the thought of Jungkook's head between your legs was an affair you'd never predict to happen.

"Yeah pretty girl," Jungkook quips. "There."

"Uhm," you breath, stomach doing somersaults. "Okay."

He settles between your legs this time, panties kicked off in some odd corner of the room. He gives your inner thigh a kiss before running a finger up your slit.

A lusty moan leaves your lips.

He pushes in a moment later, making you gasp for air. Another finger pushes along side it and after a few pumps he's perfectly stimulating your g-spot.

"Jung-Jungkook fuck!" You grip the sheets from under you.

He brings his thumb over your clit, toying with the bundle of nerves. "Am I doing it right __?" He's teasing again.

You nod vigorously. "Don't stop...please. Don't you dare stop."

Jungkook hums in approval, low and breathy, but retracts his fingers from your soaking cunt. They're quickly replaced with his tongue however, licking a broad stripe up your folds. The action is repeated over and over until your once again digging your nails into his scalp.

"M' gonna come," you say with a shaky voice.

As if an invitation, he dips in your heat. A string of profanities spill out.

Shit shit shit, you chant as you release on his tongue.

Jungkook lifts his head up from between your legs and wipes his mouth off. "You're fucking sexy." He presses a deep kiss on your lips, long and messy. "And you taste sweet too."

"Fuck me," you nearly beg. "And call me a slut while your at it."

"You su–"

"You don't have to use a condom either. I'm on the pill."

"Real–"

"Yes Jungkook."

He shifts back from your body, chest inflating and deflating. "On your hands and knees then."

As soon as the words leave his mouth you flip over, your full backside in his view. Did you feel exposed? Hell yeah. But that's part of the fun.

You turn your head over a shoulder to see Jungkook inching behind you. From this angle you feel so small. You bite your lip, anticipation driving you wild.

"Don't forget what I asked for earlier playboy."

Hovering over your back, his breath tickling your skin. "And what makes you think I'll listen to you pretty girl?" His length brushes between your asscheeks.

You whine.

"Jungkook–"

All at once he aligns himself with your hole and thrusts himself in. The fullness of the stretch has your eyes roll to the back of your head.

"Fuck, you're so big," you moan.

"Yeah? You like this," he grunts, starting off a steady pace. "I knew you would." He nips your ear. "Cute how dumb little sluts like you think they know what they want, but really, they don't have a clue."

Your breathe hitches, squeezing around his length. "What about---fuck---assholes like you who decide what others want before asking?"

The bed jolts forward. You cling to all you can to steady yourself.

"It's not really deciding for others if they already want it, is it?" He snaps his hips. "I'm merely helping them, like an asset."

"Shu---god fuck!"

"Deny it all you want but we both know how hard this little pussy's clenching around my big, fat cock. Been wanting this for a while hasn't it?" Beads of sweat drip from Jungkook's brow. His wavy, black locks dangle in front of his eyes.

Helplessly, you start rocking yourself on him, meeting his thrusts in perfect sync.

"Holy shit–" Jungkook groans. "You get me so fucking turned around. Can't even be in a room with me for five minutes before you're clawing for a way out but here you are, desperate to take my cock."

"What can I say," you barely gasp, beyond wound up. "Can't stand arrogant jerks like you."

He snorts. "But you'll sure fuck 'em won't you? Slut."

Walls tightening, knees shaking, it takes only one last hard thrust and you're spasming around him.

Jungkook coaxes you through your high with broken grunts. "Fuck, you feel so tight and warm around me. Gonna come pretty girl? Gonna come all over my cock aren't you?"

"Jung---Jungkook!"

"It's okay sweetheart, you can do it. Fucking cream it."

And you do.

With his cock coated with your cum, Jungkook fucks through his own high. "Hang in there __, I'm almost there," he says, thrusts sloppy.

Once he releases into you his body grows limp on yours. A small yelp tells him to slide out and off you.

As you lie next to each other, panting heavily, you're the first to break the silence.

"I think I've proven my point. You gonna shut up about your story now?"

"I don't know which point that would be but sure," Jungkook turns his head to the side with a lazy smirk. "I'll shut up about the story. I have a new one on my mind anyway."

God what have you done. Uncaged the beast, that's what.

A/N: thanks for stopping by, happy to hear your thoughts ☺💗

Masterlist

no reposting, copying, or translating my work

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts x reader #bts au #bangtanbathhouse #fic:proveittome #kookslastbutton

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zorosdimples · 9 months

Text

WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME?

pairing ༄ zoro x gn!reader

warnings ༄ none! this is the fluffiest of fluff—a bit out of my comfort zone, but it’s good to push your limits (so i’ve been told). you might get a bit of whiplash if you read my previous drabble lol.

word count ༄ 1452

notes ༄ i’m not joking when i say i wrote most of this over a year ago. idk how tending to injuries actually works, but this is the one piece universe, so suspend your belief! i just love the quiet intimacy of caring for someone else, especially when it’s hands on… this is kinda cheesy but i think it’s cute; it’s something of a love letter to one of my faves <3

you climbed up the ladder and opened the hatch, putting your kit down before pulling yourself up into the crow’s nest. labored breaths filled the air, the swordman’s bare back glistening with sweat, his calloused hands balancing an impossibly large weight. you scanned the room, locking in on the bloody bandages piled in the trash can.

sighing, you picked up your kit and padded over to sit on the ground in front of zoro. he didn’t acknowledge your presence—not that you expected him to, as absorbed as he was with his training—and you unpacked your kit, pulling out the necessary supplies. once you finished, you silently watched him continue his exercises, wincing at the way his fresh wounds strained against his movements. you tried to ignore how impressive his rippling muscles looked as they shimmered from exertion.

by the time he put the weight down he guzzled some water and glanced over at you. “what’s all that for?” he asked flatly, gesturing toward your setup. he wiped the water that had dribbled down his chin with the back of his hand, oblivious to the way your eyes heatedly tracked the droplets that fell from his lips to his heaving chest.

you patted the floor in front of you with a smile. “come, sit.”

he eyed you for a moment, seeming to weigh his options, but ultimately complied. he walked over and sat crisscrossed facing you, folding his arms. his steely visage didn’t betray his thoughts.

“no one else bothers me this much,” he grumbled, gaze flickering over to meet yours before returning to your busy hands.

you hoped he didn’t catch the way your fingers trembled when he spoke. “well,” you said, clearing your throat, “someone has to keep an eye on you. also, chopper is afraid to come up here and incur your wrath,” you added, half-jokingly.

zoro snorted in response, a small smile on his lips. “so, you’re the doctor’s assistant now?”

you shook your head with a chuckle. “scooch a little closer,” you said, turning to pick up a towel then shifting your weight so you were propped up on your knees. he obeyed with a grunt. you raised your head to assess his wounds, inhaling sharply when you saw the damage up close. his eye was closed, a slight scowl gracing his features.

“anything wrong?” zoro asked, eye still shut. you sighed in response, dipping the towel in a bowl of water before raising it to wipe the sweat off his face and chest.

one of the sunbeams that filtered through the windows sliced across his angular face, a glowing gash that highlighted his long green lashes and a light smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose—something you had never noticed before since they blended in with his tanned skin.

you cleaned up the sweat, careful to dab zoro’s wounds lightly. mostly superficial cuts and scrapes littered his face, although he did have a nasty gash at his hairline. you brushed back his mint green locks to get a better look at the damage; your fingertips burned hot against his scalp, and you could’ve sworn he shivered at your touch.

maybe it was your imagination.

ignoring the way your heart constricted, you moved the towel down his neck and arms toward his chest. you didn’t miss the freckles and moles that ghosted his collarbone and kissed his shoulders. absorbed in your ministrations, you missed the swordsman’s cracked eye intently watching your hands move down his body, heat nipping at the tips of his ears.

it was difficult to keep your breath steady as you wiped the expanse of his tawny torso, muscles firm underneath your featherlight touches. and while his back didn’t have any major injuries, you were sure to clean it, too. satisfied that you mopped up all the sweat, you took a clean cloth and retraced your movements to dry his skin.

“you need to be more careful,” you said, breaking the heady silence. your voice came out softer than you had anticipated, your nerves getting the better of you. you raised your eyes to meet zoro’s, now open. “your body will eventually give out if you don’t allow it to heal.”

“i don’t have time to heal,” he said simply. “each day brings new enemies even stronger than the last. i can’t stop if i wanna protect my captain and crewmates.”

the weight of his steely gaze forced yours to bow in supplication. his eye held no harshness, but rather resolution. guilt prickled your confidence; zoro was constantly throwing his life on the line for luffy and the crew’s sake—who were you to chastise him?

“we all worry about you,” you murmured, putting the cloth down. you would thank him, but you know he would simply brush it off as his duty, as nothing noteworthy.

you grabbed a pair of gloves and pulled them on your hands. opening a jar of salve that chopper had made specifically for zoro’s injuries, you scooped some out and met his grey eye. “this is a new treatment that chopper created using plants native to the birdie kingdom. he wanted me to tell you that while it’s effective at healing wounds quickly, it has an unpleasant sting.”

“nothin’ i can’t handle,” he smirked.

you couldn’t help but roll your eyes with a huff. “well, consider yourself warned.” with that, you moved to treat his head wound first. as you pushed his hair back and dabbed the balm on his gash, zoro jerked away from you with a hiss.

your eyes widened in surprise, a litany of apologies rushing from your lips. he held up a large hand to stop your rambling. “’m fine,” he said through gritted teeth, sounding decidedly less-than-fine. “just stings a little, s’all.”

you bit your tongue and hummed in response. throwing out an “i told you so” would be rude, although the mirth that sparkled in your eyes wasn’t lost on the swordsman. once he resituated himself, you returned your attention to treating the wound. without thinking, you rested one of your hands on his shoulder, steadying both of you.

zoro’s body shook as he willed himself to remain quiet despite the pain that seared his skin. he hadn’t thought his wounds were bad until that salve had touched him. his mind wandered back to the present, and he went rigid when he felt the soft hand that had settled on his shoulder. he tried not to panic when he realized how close you were to him, the cute way you knit your brows in concentration, your bottom lip trapped between your teeth.

“there we go,” you said with a proud smile.

you began to lift your hand from zoro’s shoulder, but his arm shot up and he gripped your wrist before you could pull away. frozen in place, you looked back and forth between zoro’s hold and the intense look on his face. the air in the room felt oppressive.

what did i do wrong? did i hurt zoro? is he mad? negative thoughts breezed in and out of your head before his gravelly voice cut off your self-doubt.

“what,” he breathed, “are you doing to me?”

“huh?” your brain couldn’t register the meaning behind his words. “i told you, zoro, i’m just trying to help and—”

he shook his head, knowing he would screw up if he tried to explain himself in words. instead, he slowly peeled the glove—now sticky with salve—off of your hand and tossed it into the trash. he then guided your palm and pressed it against his bare chest, his rough hand wholly encompassing your own. his pleading eye never left yours, and you looked at him in wonder as you felt his heart thump thump thump thump beneath your fingertips.

suddenly, you became aware of how close you were to him. you still knelt in front of the swordsman, your knees flush to his crossed legs. it was like your body turned to wax as you warmed then slowly melted into zoro’s fiery touch, your fingernails carving red crescents into his shoulder and your hand still clutched firmly to his chest. you swallowed, heart in your throat, as he wet his lips.

“i—” he began then abruptly stopped with a wry chuckle, dimples on display for a split second. your gaze slipped down to his lips then went back up to his silvery eye.

you were both silent for a few beats, when you tried, “zoro, i—”

you were interrupted by zoro’s scarred hands coming up to cradle your face before he slowly began to lean toward you. a hopeless moth to his flame, you met his chapped lips in the middle for a blistering kiss.

#zoro x reader #one piece zoro #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece fluff #zoro fluff #roronoa zoro fluff #one piece fic #zoro <3 #༄ kae writes

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thefanficmonster · 2 months

Note

Not sure if ur accepting requests for the bear.. but could we maybe get a Mikey x reader where she finds out she's pregnant after he died (big angst tbh) and she comes to the restaurant a mess and tells everyone and it's sad but everyone's shocked or something idk if that makes sense lol, thanks

Ahhh the angst! My favorite genre to write 🙈 Thank you so much for the request, darling! I hope you enjoy the fic 💌

Too Much, Too Late

Michael 'Mikey' Berzatto x Reader (Female) [The Bear]

Warnings: Mentioned Suicide, Mentioned Past Drug Abuse (dealing and consuming), Pregnancy, Swearing, SPOILERS for The Bear

Genre: ANGST, Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Angst with a happy ending

Summary: see request above

It was a job like any other. It was supposed to be one of those briskly-in-swiftly-out deals. All you had to do was keep it on the down low, distribute your products, get your pay and leave.

However, that didn't happen exactly as planned.

"Why are you in such a rush, sweetheart?" You found yourself accosted by a man who was very clearly three sheets to the wind already. The redness of his eyes, the dilated pupils and the alcohol on his breath suggested he was under several influences. Still, none of that was any justification for his borderline sleazy behavior. "Why don't you accompany me in blowing through this, huh?" He held up the baggie he'd just bought off you, causing you to roll your eyes.

In another setting, preferably under vastly different circumstances you would've probably found him attractive and would even like to uphold a conversation with him. Then again, in those ideal circumstances you imagine he wouldn't have been nearly as obnoxious as he was being in that moment.

Besides, you had a strict rule against participating in drugs with your clients. Or just drugs, period. Anything stronger than weed, that is.

You wanted to get him off your back as soon as possible so, instead of shutting him down in your typical cut-throat manner, you decided to let him down slowly and vanish before his object permanence kicked in. "Another time, pal. I have a busy night ahead."

It worked like a charm anytime someone tried to sweep you off your feet.

However, none of those other occasions had any follow-up. This one, on the other hand....

"Hey."

You had been caught up in your thoughts, making a mental itinerary for the next few days worth of deliveries when a voice startled you out of your tranquility.

It was the following morning and you were headed to the dumpster that was your plug's house - if you could even call it that.

Looking up, you couldn't help but frown at the sight of the 'flirt' from last night standing on the porch of your plug's house, leanings against the fence, smoking a cigarette.

"Hi?" The word came out automatically, a notation of confusion to it which made him smile.

"I don't know if you not remembering me is for better or for worse. I understand I came off a bit....gross last night." His unoccupied hand clasped around the back of his neck, an apologetic half-smile on his lips.

Despite being puzzled by the predicament, you found yourself chuckling, "No, no, I remember you. And don't worry about it, you were pretty tame compared to other shitbags I've had to deal with."

Your wording made him let out a laugh, "Yeah, 'shitbag' sums me up nicely."

Realizing how your words were poorly transmitted, you hurried to correct yourself, "No! That's not what I..."

He laughed yet again, amused by the blush that had crept onto your cheeks, "I know, I'm just fucking with you." He flashed you a charming smile as he tossed his cigarette and offered you his hand, "I'm Michael, by the way, but everyone calls me Mikey."

You were surprised by your own lack of hesitation as you took it, "Y/N, nice to meet you, Mikey."

What did surprise you was his smooth gesture - bringing the back of your hand to his lips, pressing a quick kiss to your knuckles. You could see relief flood his features when you only scoffed in amusement. "Hope you don't mind, I asked around about you at the party last night. You're quite the phantom, you know. Nobody knew anything except your plug and it was a whole other hassle having to track him down."

You would've been lying if you said you didn't find his effort flattering. "Why go through all that trouble?"

There was that charming smile once more, now accompanied by a wink, "Cause that ain't a face you simply forget, darling."

That's how it all started, three years ago. But you can hardly remember any of it now. Everything has quickly been overshadowed by the tragedy that rocked your world.

Losing the love of your life. No one and nothing can ever prepare you for such a thing. No one can take away or aid the pain it brings on. No one can tell you how to move on, if you ever will. No two grieving processes are the same and yours has been very quiet. Too quiet. You can't even remember if you've cried since you found out a week ago. You can't remember having spoken to anyone since that dreadful phone call.

It's all been building up, piling on - the calm before the storm.

And the storm has just crashed down on you, tears finally spilling over past the barrier you're able to hold them at. Sobs scratch up your throat, racking your ribcage, echoing back at you off the bathroom walls. All the agony, all the pain, the regret, the guilt the grief - it all spills out in those harrowing sobs as tears stream down your face, falling onto the sink counter and pregnancy test on it.

The positive pregnancy test.

"No, no, no...." You mumble to yourself in despair, unsure of what exactly you're saying no to.

You don't even have time to process how you feel about it, if you want it, whether you're happy about it or not. All that's plaguing your mind is the gnawing thought of what if?

What if you'd found out two weeks earlier? What if you told him? What if that changed his mind? Would you still have him by your side if he knew he'd be a dad? Would this be a reason for joy and excitement for the two of you? Having your own little family, fucked up in its own way but miles better than your individual families.

You never met his, he never met your. Unlike him, though, you haven't seen your folks in years, five to be exact. He put up with his, you had cut off yours.

You're well versed into his family and their dynamics though, thanks to all the stories Mikey told you throughout the years. You specifically remember him talking about his siblings with such adoration. Natalie and Carmen. The only supposedly sane ones of the bunch.

Wiping the tears off your burning red cheeks, you regain control of your breathing, effectively calming yourself down as you take a long look at yourself in the mirror. You will yourself to put a hand over your belly, taking a moment to let the realization of there being a living thing inside you sink in.

Your and Mikey's baby.

A baby that'll never know the wonderful man that is their dad.

"Don't worry, baby. If they don't want us, we'll always have each other."

* * * * *

After a sleepless night, you find yourself struggling not to nod off on the train.

You thought you'd feel a lot more....well, something more as you approach the inevitable meeting with Mikey's brother. Instead, you're quite numb, immune to whatever you might be faced with once you arrive at the restaurant. Nothing he might say or do can faze you, not after the week you've had. Though you're pretty sure his hasn't been any better. He lost his brother after all. It could be a point of mutual understanding for the two of you or a point of collision and apperhension.

Only one way to find out.

You're surprised by the sheer boldness with which you enter the sandwich shop. Again, you thought you might exhibit at least mild hesitation but you have never been prone to such reservations. You still do things like you used to back in your dealer days - briskly-in-swiftly-out.

This is no different.

Upon entry, the interior feels familiar. You've been here only twice before, always after closing, snuck in by Mikey as a date night. He'd cook for you while you DJed with the restaurant sound system in the office. It was the peak of romance in your relationship.

Never once did you think one day you'd be coming in alone, during work hours, the memories bringing tears to your eyes.

You push the pain to the backburner when a waiter approaches you. "Welcome, what can I get ya?"

You force the closest thing to a smile you can manage, "Carmen Berzatto, if possible."

Just then, as if on cue, sounds of chaos flood out from the kitchen into the seating area. It doesn't really seem to bother any of the three tables enjoying their meal, but you are certainly a little shocked. You remember Mikey mentioning shit would get chaotic in back of house, but you'd never imagined it'd be this bad.

The waiter casually peers over his shoulder, pressing his lips in a thin line, "I can't promise you anything but I'll go ask. Who's asking for him?" He inquires, already uneasy at the thought of what he'll be met with in the kitchen.

"Mikey's girlfriend." You watch, in real time, as the poor guy's eyes hollow out in shock, his eyebrows raising impossibly high.

Despite being rattled by your response, he manages to clear his throat and murmur a quick, "Please wait here" before disappearing out of view.

Less than a minute later, the door to the kitchen swung open again, the man emerging from the kitchen shocking you with his lack of resemblance to Michael. Fair hair, bright blue eyes, overall soft features whereas Mikey was all sharp edges, dark brown hair and chocolate eyes.

He too, quite like his brother, is doing a poor job masking his confusion as he offers you a tattooed hand as a greeting, "Hi."

You take it, "Hi."

The rowdiness picks up yet again, causing Carmy to motion for you to follow him, "It's a little too loud in here." You nod and follow suit as he leads you out through a back exit to a fenced of area. He shuts the door, drowning out most of the noise before he turns back to face you, "Alright, tell me everything."

It takes all the will you have coupled with all the pride within you not to let yourself shed any tears as you sum up five of the best years of your life in front of this stranger. It gets especially hard when you see his eyes gloss over but you manage to keep it together. Your chest feels somewhat lighter once you bare one of the biggest secrets in your life, knowing there cannot be any repercussions now.

Because...well...he's gone.

"Fuck..." Is all Carmy can say to break the silence after you've concluded your story. His gaze is trained on the ground, his hand cupped around his mouth. He suddenly lifts his head to look at you, making you feel a little too exposed. Those eyes stare right through you. "Why didn't he ever tell us about you?"

You shrug, you have no real answer. You don't know why he would tell them but you're none the wiser as to why he didn't tell them either. So, you just stay quiet.

He nods, pausing for a second to collect his thoughts before speaking up again, "I-I gotta ask...did you suspect anything? Like, did you see any signs?"

You were expecting this. That doesn't mean it hurts any less to actually hear him ask it. You force yourself to inhale a shaky breath before replying, speaking around the knot in your throat, "No. I saw him that morning, he seemed fine. Nothing out of the ordinary. We were talking about the game. He was excited the Sox had won. He made us breakfast. I ironed his shirt for work and I sent him off. And...." You take a moment to maintain your composure, "...that was the last time I saw him."

"Fucking hell..." He sighs out, the curse pouring out from the depths of his soul. He takes a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket, taking one and offering the pack to you, "You smoke?"

You shake your head, "Yeah, but I can't right now." You let out a bitter chuckle as you add on: "Last night...I found out I'm pregnant."

Carmy chokes on the puff he'd just inhaled, coughing out the smoke. He gives you a deer-in-headlights look, trying to gouge your reaction so he can mimic his accordingly. You help him out by giving him a slight smile, allowing him to reflect it back at you ten fold.

"No fucking way." He laughs, prompting you to nod, your eyes filling with tears for the millionth time today. He tosses his cigarette, motioning for you to approach him, "Come here." His arms wrap around you and you damn near break down, finally allowing yourself to shed those tears you've been holding back as you hug him back, squeezing him tightly.

You didn't realize how much you'd needed that hug, that comfort. You had no one to offer it to you. It's funny how quickly people can become important in our lives - in this case, only minutes after entering yours.

You're both startled when the door is thrown open revealing a man you don't recognize initially. His demeanor allows you to connect him to a name soon though.

"Cousin, what the fuck?! We're fighting a war in there...- oh, my bad." He straightens his attitude when he notices you, "Hi there."

Sniffling, Carmy wipes a stray tear before offering Richie a wide smile, "Cousin, we're gonna be uncles."

The confusion on his face provokes a laugh out of you, a genuine one at that. It's refreshing, nostalgic almost. And although you're well aware you'll have to retell your and Mikey's story several more times to catch people up to speed, you know that it'll be a little less dreadful each time.

* * * * *

It's over. The five minutes of utter hell and chaos are over.

You share a look of disbelief with Syd before bursting out in hysterical laughter, enveloping each other in a hug.

"We did it."

"We fucking did it."

Wiping sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand, you beam up at Richie who is equally as high on the feel of accomplishment. His arms wrap around you so tightly, he momentarily lifts you off the ground.

It's finally the calm after the storm. You can finally relax without waiting for the other shoe to drop.

You rush out to the dining are, going straight to Sugar and Pete's table where your one year old son is being entertained by the couple, cackling as Pete tickles his feet.

"Hope he wasn't too much trouble." You say as you approach their side, your voice prompting Sugar to get up and practically tackle you with upmost joy.

"Great job back there, Y/N." She beams at you, holding your hands tightly when she pulls away.

"You too, mama." You smile back, resting a hand over her swollen belly just in time to feel a kick.

Turning back to Calvin, you see him making grabby hands at you, giggling when you pick him up, peppering kisses all over his face, "Hi, baby!" You coo to him, adjusting his surprisingly still clean shirt. A fancy one, curtesy of Richie. Him, Fak and Calvin are in matching suits tonight and it's the most adorable thing. "Wanna go see uncle Carmy?"

It's ridiculous you even asked. The little boy cheers happily, kicking his feet as you carry him back to the kitchen, stopping in front of the freezer door to knock on it.

"What?!" You hear Carmy's rough voice boom from inside.

"Carmy!" Calvin calls out to his uncle, his tiny hands tapping on the freezer door, "Hiiii!"

"Hi Baby Bear." His tone has softened now, raising to an octave higher, "Your mommy is a badass, you know that."

"Oh he knows." You reply, resting your forehead on the cool metal, "We did it, Carm. We took care of it. Everything's handled, don't worry." You take this moment of calmness on his end to reassure him that no matter what anxieties are plaguing him, everything is and will be fine.

"I know you did, Y/N. You're an awesome team. Just wish I was in the fire with you, you know?" He says through a shaky breath, causing your heart to ache.

"Oh this was just the frying pan, dude. You'll be there for the many fires to come." Your words are successful in making him laugh, bringing you relief.

"I cook too!" Calvin proudly proclaims, making you both chuckle.

"You'll cook too, Teddy Bear. You'll be the best fucking chef ever." You gave up a while ago trying to shield Calvin from the sailor mouths of the Berzatto family and the restaurant as a whole. If he has a potty mouth from a very early age, you'll just blame it on his dad and uncles.

You never dreamed you'd find yourself in the cahoots of such a batshit crazy and immensely loving family. It really makes you feel a sense of fulfillment looking back at how far you've come and look forward knowing that you'll never come to a point where you'll be alone.

You'll always have your son, the Berzattos and The Bear by your side.

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 1 year

Text

Tangerine headcanons/ imagines

tangerine x female reader

tw: none! just cute stuff that makes us sad

okay so I love analysing people and ive been in love with him since march/april, so this was a piece of cake- also im obsessive and lonely so was super easy lmfao

these are just things that I think (kinda self indulgent) but if you disagree that’s fine too

princess treatment- he’d treat you like royalty

huge softie at heart

love language wise:

physical touch- I feel like he’s quite handsy, he always has to be touching some part of you

acts of service- he’d always be willing to help you, does things for you. makes you snacks and drinks throughout the day- like if you’re busy, he’d pop in and give you a tray of stuff you may need

quality time- he’d value the time you spent together, even if you weren’t doing an activity together (both in the same space, doing your own things) he’d designate certain days for just you

gift giving- he’d spoil you like crazy, he’d remember certain little things about you and get you a thoughtful gift based off that (like if you mentioned something you wanted to try for just one second midway in a conversation you had months ago, he’d remember it)

words of affirmation- he’d call you tonnes of pet names, I feel like he’d say ‘my’ in front of it to make it more special. he’d tell you he loves you, how special you are and how much he adores you etc

----

hates everyone but you vibes- he’s standoffish to everyone, but when it comes to you he’s the complete opposite; he speaks very soft and kind towards you

he treats you like the most valuable thing on earth

very patient with you

protector x protected energy- he just always wants you safe

nose and forehead kisses

lots of thumb stroking on your cheeks

lots of intense eye contact- he admires your eyes

feel like he’s a hip and thigh kinda man

I feel like you’d be very close to Lemon, and sometimes it’ll wind him up. Lemon would tell you embarrassing stories about Tan- you’d love it while he’d hate it

I get ride or die vibes- kinda like romeo and juliet, just minus all the death

he secretly loves your chick flicks, he pretends he hates them but watches them with you every time

he also pretends he hates when you call him sweet things but he definitely looks away to smile

he’s very slow to warm up, takes a bit of time to crack him open. on the outside he’s a doberman but on inside he’s like a ragdoll

gets a bit possessive, not in a scary way- but I do think that sometimes it could be

feel like he’s the kind that will literally worship you

you clean his cuts and wounds after missions

he runs warm but you run quite cold, so he’s always trying to warm you up

I feel like you’re the first person he’s actually loved romantically

drinks black coffee and ofc tea

definitely a whisky drinker, he loves a good whisky by the fire

I feel like he’s very clean, likes to keep everything organised. maybe a bit of a perfectionist

always smells good

very romantic and extremely charismatic- a natural charmer. funny and lots of inside jokes

he’s a great caretaker- looks after you really well. if you’re ill he’d be with you at all times, not caring if he got sick too. and when it’s your time of the month he’d get you hot water bottles and you’d get lots of back rubs etc

he loves it when you use your fingers to trace over his tattoos, same goes for his chest hair too

also loves when your stroke through his hair

he gets really irritated in hot temperatures- and starts swearing a lot more

I feel like he’s kind of set in his ways about things/ he knows what he likes, and that you help open his mind about trying and doing new things. you help keep things fresh and exciting

some reason I feel like you’d have daddy issues idk why, (sorry if you do, also sorry if you don’t lmao)

he might follow you like a lost puppy, he’d literally do anything you say

you’d be best friends as well as a couple

he’s very reliable and would drop anything for you

if you needed to rant or vent, he’d be there lending you his ear. he’d be an incredible listener

very attentive

feel like he’s a fast driver, but never when you’re in the car

if someone flirts with you or someone was mean to you at work he’d say “where are they? I will fuckin kill em”

private but not secret relationship

definitely a homebody

whenever he goes past the florists or to the shop, he’d always bring some flowers back for you (more often than not- it’ll your favourite type of flower)

leaves you sweet notes around the house

that’s it for now, hope you liked

#bullet train #tangerine #tangerine bullet train #bullet train fanfic #tangerine x reader #tangerine x you #tangerine fanfiction #aaron taylor johnson #imagines #tangerine headcanon #tangerine imagine

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granolawriting · 7 months

Note

How abt one where Joel misses the reader sm soo he comes to meet her very late at night they both drink leading to smut cause ofc 😭😏 and maybe in the middle joel makes a vid of them but he didn’t remember it cause he was drunk and later after a week or soo he discovers it idk something like that 😫

pairing: NSFW!reader x no breakout!Joel

Summary: Joel brings over liquor and a smile, a situation synonymous for whats to become of every few months of your life filled with drunken sex and family dinners with him. And as you hear the infamous knock upon your door once more, you fall for his southern charm once more.

Content warning: dom!Joel, drunken sex, doggystyle, video without permisson, rough fucking, porn with a little plot, cumming inside, praise, pet names (sweetheart, darling, doll), "good girl", long haired joel because I say so!!!, age gap (obviously..)

word count: 2.8k

A/N: thank you for this request!!! my first Joel req.. of many I hope hehe. I have a special place in my heart for drunk Joel, probably for reasons I shouldent. But I digress, very fun to write :)) I hope you enjoy!

The clacking of your keyboard brings noise to an otherwise quiet evening within your home, finishing up work on your computer was the only thing that troubled your mind at what the clock shone as 12 into the night.

A ring of your doorbell catches you off focus for a moment. There was no means for a package to arrive or even people for that matter. It was far too late for any reasonable person to be out and especially at your door. Fear overtakes you for just a moment before curiosity outweighs it and the sudden urge to stay where you are is replaced by the insatiable one to see what lies on the other side of the door.

You check the phone that had been charging at a port out of your line of sight to be greeted by absolutely nothing, zero clue into what the meaning of this visit could entail.

The creak of the door upon your hands opening its knob do you watch as it reveals a certain Joel upon the other side of the door. Facing him as he faces you, a selfish smile coating his face as he grips within his hand some nondescript black plastic bag.

Looking upon Joel did you notice the clothes, and general demeanor he held. With salt and pepper hair grown out slightly, traces of product line it's ends as they clump together to create some semblance of unity as they fall upon his face, the gruff lines and wear of an older man are what you find beneath the strands of hair-- a grin complimented by a short and kempt beard. The clothing upon his body was all worn, but good quality. Red plaid complimenting his undershirt as a worn brown leather jacket works as his outer jacket. Dark levis that signified one of his better-dressed pants, as the stains of work grow more apparent upon the lighter colors he chooses for jeans. His belt was fashioned to fit the precise mold of his body with the crease of the belt hole he uses every morning having considerably more wear than the rest of the belt.

“Hey sweetheart.”

A compelling southern drawl complimenting a sly smile was almost enough for you to entertain this interaction with outright positivity.

“Joel, what are you doing at my place this late. Don't you have work in the morning?”

“Got the day off. But I'm flattered yer lookin out for me darlin. Came by just to say hi, that such a crime?”

He lets himself into your home as the sloshing of the bag he held within his fingers becomes more curious.

“You at least gonna tell me what's in the bag? Or is that also none of my business.”

You cross your arms in an attempt at anger, though fall short as he sees right through you, as he always has been able to.

Two bottles clash with the top of your wooden table providing a clink to follow what he says;

“Thought we could share a drink, you and I. like old times ‘member?”

Memories of the ‘old times’ flood your memories as blurs of sloppy kisses and drunken love fill your mind, the reminders of all the times you and he have had together, and all the times you have not had together. The relationship between you and him was special to say the least. He was no boyfriend, but he was definitely not just some kind of fuck buddy. Or was he? There had been times you took care of Sarah, taken her to games, but there had also been times when there was no communication for weeks on end. It all depended on if you guys just showed up at one another's door. All oftentimes ignited by a simple drink, would it grow into flame of passion that extinguished within the coming months to be done once more after well enough time away.

It was very toxic, sure. But for someone like Joel, part of you was compelled to believe you could just deal. You didn't mind it.

“Well if the drinks are free, I can't say no. and free delivery, now that's something special.”

You teased with him a moment, as it wasn't discernable what kind of night it was going to be yet. Some nights you and Joel stayed up until the early morning talking about life, the way you two felt about the world and so on. Other times, the early mornings greeted you with a lot less of a profound means for staying awake.

“You know that's my specialty.”

He stands to grab glasses from your cabinet, the muscle memory he holds of knowing exactly where they are making a swift shift from shelf to table as he proceeds to pour you a glass.

…

The night grows dark as the two of you grow to run out of things to catch up on. Learning about Sarah's most recent academic achievement, or what sport she's picked to do for this spring. He tells you about the things going on at his work, trying to dumb it down but never quite making it understandable regardless. You tell him how your work goes, trying to not mention any school you may still engage in as a means to not remind him how old he is or how the gap in your age could be equally compared to that of the entire rule of certain kings throughout history.

You grasp at things to say near the end of your last story. Realizing nothing already said can follow up, leading to a lapse of silence to overtake you two as liquor fills your system looked within his dark eyes as they stare back at you.

“Know what, fuck it.”

Joel mutters before pushing all casualty and simple conversation out the window as the tension building up inside of him grew too hard to bear. It seemed as if he was just looking, praying for a quiet moment so he had the means to pounce on you. He didn't properly care about any work you had due, as he watched the pink of your lips as they moved with the sound of your voice, the hair upon your head falling into your face and watching sloppy fingers push it behind your ears. The way your chest poured out of the top you wore and above all else, the look within your eyes that yearned and pleaded for the exact same thing.

He almost jumped on you, the passion deep within his heart that sunk to his legs as he brought himself from the seated table to your left sounds of wood clashing against wood and a disruption in all the items upon the table you two sat at he brought himself closer to you in one move. He knocks you off your own chair in the process, as the two of you fall onto the floor in a fit of passion as his lips interlock with mine.

“You don't know how fuckin badly I’ve been missin this darlin”

Is muttered as he lay above you, his arms now holding your wrists to the floor as he looks you up and down. He goes into your neck, licking it up and down as his sloppy movements and tongue coat your whole neck with the sensitive kisses bites of his drunken fervor. His hand releases from the right side of your wrist as it traces down your body, his knee propped up against the left side of you he stables himself to feel your body with his hand. Groping your chest desperately as you feel calloused hands trail under your shirt and across your waist. Sloppy grabbing at every part of your naked body as he moves from your neck to your lips once more. Forcing his tongue down your throat as every move he makes is made with unparalleled desperation.

He lets up for a moment, breath heavy and sweat coating his face as the clothes he wears begin to heat him up. Realizing that you watch him straddled on top of you as he removes his jacket, followed by the unbuttoning of his flannel to reveal the muscle he held underneath. You watched as his chest went up and down to match the sound of his breath as he looked upon you.

Part of you grows desperate as well, as your now free hands trail to the only part of him that still stays dressed, his pants. Moving fingers to trace the creases and lines of his jeans, slowly going closer to the growing bulge in his pants. Playfully toying with it, getting just close enough to it but never exactly where he’d want you to.

You watch as every move you make brings him even more tense, small groans are to escape him as you move a single finger over his bulge and you watch as he throws his hands on the sides of the floor next to you. your faces now an inch apart he whispers within your ear;

“Nows not the time to be playin with me sweeheart. Theres no reason I wouldn't turn you right around and fuck you myself now is there?”

You stay silent for a moment, but he grabs your jaw and asks again.

“Is there, darlin’?”

You shake your head no, unable to muster up a word as your arousal turns you into silent awe at the sight of him. Though with his suggestion you allow yourself to thereafter be moved by his hands onto your stomach, leaving your back completely vulnerable to him. You hear what is the clink of his belt as he struggles to get it off in desperation and with the drop of it across the room thereafter. You hear the zipper of his pants signify their drop as well, watching his phone fall to the side of you in the process.

He removes your shorts and underwear at the same time to reveal just your ass below him as he straddles your lower legs. Feeling as his hands toy with your ass, moving it and smacking it as he wished.

Though without much more time wasted, you hear a spit into his hand that undoubtedly coated his cock, as you felt his heat meet yours as he teased it between your folds for a moment before entering you.

He enters you with a long groan, as he goes in and out of you with no pace and little regard for going slow. The first few thrusts are slow and intentional, but he grows much more sloppy with no time.

He leans his body to curve on top of yours as you lay on the floor with your knees only to prop up an easier means for him to enter you. He begins to bite your ear, groans and whispering into your ear praise and curse words;

“Fuck hnm, darlin’ you’re so fuckin tight for me. Oh my god ya feel so good fer me. You’re my good girl takin it like you should.”

His drawl comes out even more when he's drunk, he humps you as you feel his breath hitch and grow uneven on the side of your neck. Though he centers himself once more, this time using only one hand to hold you as to hold you still as he fucks into you. His forearm crossed above your chest, feeling the muscle of his bicep on the side of your arm and the thickness of his forearm grip you as he moves in and out of you.

“Do you like that huh? Tha way I'm fuckin ya? Arent you my good fuckin girl?”

He demands a response, to a pleading and moaning mess in your reply as you utter out the words;

“Yes, yes I'm you’re good girl. Please, don't stop please”

“I could never stop when you feel this fuckin good. God I'm,”

He falls into grunts as he tries to keep his body straight as he fucks into you with even more desperation as you can feel him growing close by just the feeling of him inside of you. And before you know it you feel a final groan escape him that follows hot fluid shoot deep inside of you as he rides out his full orgasm feeling you contract on top of him, your body desperate to keep in every drop.

Falling onto the floor, he lays beside you in a sweating, breathless mess as you lay there the same. For a moment you and him look at one another and smile, before you both get up once more to clean each other off, and go in for a shower before you two share a bed for the night. God knows how late it even is now.

---

“Hey doll, ya know where I left my phone?”

A voice wakes you up, one of a fully dressed Joel who apparently, is about to leave.

“Aw, not staying for breakfast?”

You tease, letting yourself get up a bit and stretching to orient yourself to the morning.

“Would love to, but Sarah's gotta short day at school today. Hows about ya come over fer dinner tonight? Our treat.”

He shines you an old smile, and your heart melts the same way it's done every time past.

“Then it's a date. Last I saw, your phone was on the floor in my living room.”

Pointing him to that direction, he exclaims to have found it, and to follow you hear and opening and shutting of a door to signify that once more, you are alone. Beginning your morning routine you spend some time moving things around mentally, seeing what to do with the day since you now have plans in the evening.

---

Joel stops his car within his driveway, checking the time he realizes he’s much earlier than he expected himself to be. He has around 3 hours to kill before a little girl will be waiting for his beat-up car to take her home early, the best day to ever befall a girl or so it seemed to her. Walking within his home he drops keys into an empty bowl, kicking off heavy boots so the creaking within his home subsides to a much lighter and more sparse sound than that of heavy boots clanking on the soft wooden floors. He sits upon the green couch in his living room, turning on the tv he devises to text you something as a means to make up for the abrupt departure the night before. Though as he opens his phone, it opens to the photo gallery where a new video seems to have been added.

Oh my god.

He clicks on it with hesitant hands, and as he does his mind is brought back to a night he failed to properly remember.

“Do you like that huh? Tha way i'm fuckin ya? Arent you my good fuckin girl?”

“Yes, yes i'm you’re good girl. Please, don't stop please”

He feels himself grow at the sight of what's on his phone.

A video, of last night?

He never remember taking something like this. Let alone ever saving it. But as he watched as he came inside of you, hearing your begs and pleas for his cock it aroused him in a way he couldn't suppress. As the video ended he lay dumbfounded for a moment. Curious about what to do with such a video. But as he looks at the replay button upon his phone the only thing that fuels him is unquenchable lust.

Unbuckling his belt once more, he unzips his pants to reveal his hard member once more. Sitting upon that couch does he replay the video. Slowly touching himself at the sight of your body. Watching the way your ass moved on his cock, the way your waist looked curved to get the most pleasure out of his cock. He watched the way you bounced on and off him, the way your body looked gripped by his arm and the desperation that coated your voice as every thrust inside of you elicited a scream or a moan.

He was obsessed, entranced with watching over and over again as he made you cum, as he came inside of you. And as the pace of his hand around his cock grew faster, it was before he knew it that he finished with closed eyes and a heavy groan once more.

After cleaning himself up and changing, he looks at the video on his phone once more. Curious of what to do with it. He thinks for a moment, but as a smile creeps upon his face he knows exactly what to do with it.

“Wanted ta’ let you know I just had a little fun with this. You look fuckin’ amazing darlin’. Might hafta do this more often.”

*video attached*

#joel x reader #joel miller #tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #smut #fanfiction #joel tlou #joel smut #joel fanfic #tlou smut #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro x reader #x reader #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction

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tastesousweet · 5 months

Text

⭒ vampire love

chris sturniolo x fem!reader

summary : they were each others’ go-to hookup in highschool, chris is back in town and y/n surprises him at his window. based on “vampire love” by yung bruh.

warnings : basically pure smuttttt :P & they’re both just whiney and horny idk. they get fluffy at the end tho

mickey speaks : uhhhh 1st post & im showing my whorism already !!!! oops

Y/N - 12:56 AM

are u home?

CHRIS

yea i landed this morning

Y/N

u never told me ☹️☹️

CHRIS

i know it was a busy day for me

CHRIS

i’m sorry

Y/N

well wyd right now?

CHRIS

texting u 😘

Y/N

cornball. go back to LA

CHRIS

nah im actually just sitting here watching

family guy in nick’s room

Y/N

tell nick i say hi aw

Y/N

i missed u guys

CHRIS

i missed you bruh

CHRIS

i wanna see u but i don’t want u

leaving the house this late for me

CHRIS

i’ll def come see you tomorrow tho

Y/N

oh??? that’s crazy bc i would get

“come over” texts from u at 3 am

in highschool 😭😭

Y/N

like who am i speaking to rn

CHRIS

a gentleman tf🤦‍♂️🤷‍♂️!!!

message laughed at by Y/N !

౨ৎ

Y/N - 1:23 AM

you still watching tv?

CHRIS

nah i’m in my room now

Y/N

oh ok

Y/N

sooo.

Y/N

i’m at your house????

CHRIS

WHAT

Y/N

window …😊😊

chris immediately shuffles from his bed over to his window, seeing you with your face illuminated by your phone light.

he smiles and goes to text you,

CHRIS

what r u waiting for?? get up here

he looks back to see you roll your eyes in response and begin to move the same ladder you used in highschool over to chris’ window.

chris pries open the window with his bottom lip comfortably tucked in his mouth. he peeks his head out and can’t help but commentate on your situation as you focus heavily on making it up the rickety ladder. “she couldn’t wait twelve hours to see her man, wow. i must be something special, huh?”

you move your focus from your careful footsteps, up to chris, with a smug look and fuckass hat on his head. “maybe she was just a little horny and very bored.”

“she could’ve gone to sleep like someone normal.” he teases more, leaning back as she’s now made it up to his level.

he reaches his hand out and helps her into his room, “does he not want to fuck her or…?” she tilts her head and watches chris close his window.

“shut up,” he laughs a little walking towards her and pulling her into a hug (he makes sure to hold the sides of your bare hips that you purposely have on display, just so you know he saw and he appreciates it) which you embrace deeply. “hottest bitch alive,” he laughs into your hair.

you push him away, laughing at the old inside joke (before anything had happened between the two of you chris took a hit or two from a joint sophomore year of highschool and revealed his attraction to you, declaring you “the hottest bitch alive,” and of course you teased him but none the less took it as a compliment).

he hooks his hand on the waist band of your small shorts before you can get far, pulling you back and laying a soft, short kiss on your lips.

your head is at an angle looking up to him and the corners of your mouth begin to upturn as you chase his initial kiss with another and another, building passion with every connection.

he deepens the kiss while moving backwards towards the black couch at the foot of his bed. upon reaching it you push him gently causing him to fall back onto the plush surface. he draws his hand across his now wet lips as a smirk crosses his face.

chris pats his lap anticipating your willing obedience, only for you to step back and remove your teddy bear slippers you hadn’t gotten the chance to take off yet. he chuckles a little and removes his hat, throwing it behind him onto his bed, and moving his arm to rest behind his head as he lazily watches your every move.

your loose tank top and lack of bra leave little to imagine as you walk back towards him and crawl onto his lap. you try not to let the dopey grin that’s etched on his mouth effect you too much as you move his hands to hold your ass.

he begins to kiss you again, a little harder than before and adding the aspect of his tongue to explore parts of your mouth he hadn’t seen in some time. your hands ghost up his neck and one hand holds there while the other moves to his cheek.

you begin grinding yourself against his lap and he disconnects your lips to hiss at the sensation before kissing up and down your neck slowly.

girl lay yo body down on that fuckin couch

when you begin to moan lowly and grind yourself harder chris lifts you off of his lap and lays you on the couch, now hovering over you.

you’re annoyed by the loss of stimulation and groan, “come backk.” you pull at his white wife beater and chase his lips with your own.

“shhh” he whispers against your pouted lips, dragging himself down to settle on the floor below you, guiding his face between your legs and making them fall on either side of his head.

open up your legs i’m gon’ work my mouth

you whimper and suck your bottom lip in your mouth when he starts to leave kisses and nibbles on your inner thighs. he’s carefully avoiding your clothed center, taking his time loving on you.

“chris,” you let out a breathy whine and reach for his hand, bold enough to place it right at your lower tummy and waistband of your tiny fucking shorts.

chris hums against your center, finally looking up at you with droopy, infatuated eyes. you caress his hand to encourage him to adventure further into your heat.

as much as he loves to tease, his fingers curl and grip the waistband as his fingers dance along the small string of your thong. he smiles at the thought of you putting it on just for him tonight.

“baby, please,” you whine again, louder.

try not to make a sound this my momma house

he kisses the space between your center and thigh, the closest he’s gotten to where you need him most at this point. “shhh, i’ll give you what you want. jus’ gotta be quiet, ‘kay?” he mews before he presses a gentle kiss to your clothed cunt.

you just about sob and fight the urge to push your shorts to the side and force his head down yourself.

he finally sits back on his legs, moving his hands slowly up your legs. “god damn, you’re so precious,” he rasps with a smile as he slowly lowers your shorts down your legs.

“just for you,” you breathe when he’s finally pulls your shorts off and throws them behind him.

“how sweet,” he kisses your ankle before hooking it over his shoulder. chris stares up at you before his eyes flick down to your dripping core, leaving a wet spot at the center of your tiny thong.

he groans at the sight and uses his right hand to pull the cloth to the side as his left hand rubs across your lower stomach leaving butterflies in its path. he moves his index finger through your soaked folds causing you to let out a hushed yet sharp moan.

chris uses your sound of pleasure as encouragement when he dips his tongue into you continuously. when you start to buck into his face he uses his arm to hold your leg (that’s not over his shoulder) down against the couch.

your soft moans are harmonious and you watch as chris closes his eyes and begins to fully enjoy licking at your core. he moves to kiss your thigh again, replacing his mouth with his fingers entering in and out of you slowly. you watch him as he focuses on his fingers’ every move and enjoys his front row viewing of your body’s appreciation of him.

he blissfully lays his cheek on your inner thigh when you bring your hand down to his face and comb through his hair to pull his attention back to your face rather than your pussy.

he shifts his eyes up and you draw your finger across his swollen bottom lip. he slowly smiles at you before speaking, “wanna cum, hmm?”

and to his surprise you shake your head no and begin to take his fingers out of you and bring them up to your mouth.

chris lets out a whiney moan and drags himself up to be face to face with you as you swirl your tongue around his fingers, tasting every bit of yourself. “so fucking hot.” he whispers and replaced his fingers with a rough kiss to your mouth.

you wrap your legs around his waist and hook your arms around his neck while he continues to kiss you. you can feel him moving underneath you to grind his hardened center against the couch cushion so you pull away from him and tell him to sit down instead.

he nods his head and you both trade positions; your face now level with his lower half just as his once was with your own.

you run your hands up his covered legs and towards his hard center and begin to stroke him through his sweats. he lets out a relieved breath as he watches you and anticipates your descent further.

you adjust your position and pull down his boxers and sweatpants just far enough that you can pull out his pulsing member. chris throws his head back and covers his eyes with his hands at the sensation of your thumb circling his sensitive head.

that bitch gon’ give me top, that’s without a doubt

you pump long, slow strokes along his cock while starring up at him hazily. you begin to feel annoyed by his lack of eye contact and pull his attention by guiding him into your mouth.

chris lets a choked moan escape and looks down to you, with a mouthful of his dick and glossy eyes, looking back up at him. his mouth is hung open subconsciously as he fights back his own excessive moans, instead he gathers your hair for you and uses all of his might to not fuck your face.

once you build a rhythm you take him further until he’s fully buried and slightly curved down your throat. his moan comes out in fractures and his grip on your hair grows tighter. “you’re so good to me,” he whispers. you go to move but stop once he pleads, “wait! no, please jus’ just stay right there, baby.” so you begin to focus on breathing through your nose as he holds your head back down.

you stay for a few moments and when you finally gag and pull off of him he thrusts up into air to almost chase the feeling while you gather yourself. “you okay?” his face is pulled tight together but you can’t tell if it’s because he’s concerned for you or his own orgasm.

you nod and his senses are heightened as you start to stroke his cock a few more times but before he can finish you confess, “baby, i want you to fuck me now…”

he gathers your face in his hands and rubs your cheek, “you know i will… but first can i cum, please?”

you shake your head with a smirk, kissing his inner hand but before you rise to your feet you kiss the top of his sensitive dick, to which he uncontrollably spills a small amount of his cum onto your lips.

he feels a little humiliated at his lack of control. “fuck. ‘m sorry i didn’t mean to-” but chris can feel his stomach recoil as he attempts to fight off finishing all over your face right now.

he watches intensely as you lick your lips slowly, tasting every bit of him, before you stand up (your thong showing every inch of your full ass while you walk) and go to lay on his bed. he can no longer see you but he takes the hint when your small tank top is thrown at him.

he exhales and begins to fully remove his clothes as well. he joins you in his bed to see you bare and sprawled out, your fingers tapping softly at your clit.

you whimper when you dip your fingers inside of you then bring them up to his mouth. he hums and sticks his tongue out. you drag your fingers across it before he’s wrapping his lips around them and sucking hard.

you bite your lip at the sight of chris being so willing and eager.

he pulls them from his mouth and smiles while guiding your hand between you both to grab his needy cock. “please.” is all he says before he kisses you.

you pump him a few times before guiding him into you slowly, to which chris moans directly over your mouth, eyes slightly rolled back. you quiet him gently by kissing him again.

i fuck her like a god, that’s without a doubt

he continues the slow pace you began as he guides himself fully in and out of you. the silver of his necklace catches the light of the moon every so often making it gleam as it sways over your face. you find it so satisfying and pretty.

you suck on his neck and whisper that you need him to fuck you hard or not at all. he immediately is quickening his thrusts into you and you muffle a cry into his neck, clawing at his back with your manicured nails.

i got that pussy wet, that’s without a drought

you’re so slick that the sound of your skin slapping together is amplified and chris prays to fucking god his mother hasn’t found herself thirsty in the middle of a rem cycle.

“i need you chris, i need-“ your words spew out and he doesn’t let up, continuing his harsh pounds into your used center.

“hold on to it, baby. ‘m so close, please,” he reaches for your hands and holds them against the mattress on each side of your head as he continues to build to a climax.

you whine and he gives in to you easily. he removes one of his hands from holding yours to rub your clit harshly, “go ahead, give me everything then.”

he continues to thrust himself into you but his eyes stare intently at your face as you fall apart beneath him and squeeze around his length. you’re a moaning mess and he quickly puts his hand over your mouth until you’re spent.

the scene alone causes him to pull out of you and let out a series of low moans while his cum falls onto your lower stomach.

to make the most out of the overwhelming sensitivity you both feel, he immediately guides his cock through your folds, crying out at the intense stimulation. as you try to push him away, and whine his name telling him it’s so much.

he obliges and unknowingly blurts more cum on your thighs as he moves up to kiss you, out of breath.

he sucks your bottom lip for a second longer before pulling apart and whispering, “hold on.” your sleepy figure just nods up to him and he breathes out a laugh before finding his boxers on the floor and walking out quietly.

you try to keep your eyes open but it feels like forever when chris finally comes back with a damp wash cloth, two water bottles, and a bowl of washed grapes (??). your eyes open timidly at the small amount of light coming from his phone’s flashlight. you can see him wearing your teddy slippers though which makes you mentally laugh, but physically smile as he approaches you.

he places the items on a side table and begins to wipe your stomach off slowly, the warmth on the cloth soothing you further. “open your legs, please.” chris already had began to physically separate them but he asks you to open them so that you feel in control of yourself anyways.

“sweet girl,” he compliments and smiles as he wipes your thighs down, kissing your stomach again before making his way to throw the cloth into a laundry basket.

you hum at him and lift yourself up to watch as he opens one of his drawers and offers one of his t-shirts to you.

you slip it over your head easily and he hands you a water bottle and your phone before crawling into his bed with you. you curl up to his chest and he hands you the bowl of grapes which you don’t question because you’re hungry as fuck, why would you deny it?

you thank him and he thanks you for coming to see him tonight.

you both smile into a kiss and you continue to finish your grapes as he closes his eyes in an attempt to get some sleep.

🍊✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ

AW! everyone cheered. and came (probably)

got inspo for the end bc of this lmao :

also go listen on spotify for vibes

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #tastesousweet #they such nasty freaks ! WHY ARE THEY SO CUTIE THO #chris sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets smut #sturniolo triplets fan fiction #triplets #chris sturniolo fanfic #smut #aftercare #first post we up

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brighttears · 1 year

Note

hi! back again with another request, i hope that’s ok! if not then totally ignore this. For the request: could we get a jealous reader? Im always seeing Fics where Joel is jealous and would like to see that changed up! Maybe she sees Joel hanging around another woman more his age and she gets insecure, idk it’s totally up to you how it happens. if you do take this request then thank you so much, if it’s not something you’re interested in writing then that’s ok too and thank you for your fics!! <3

Joel Miller x reader

No physical description except for having hair, leaning fem but no pronouns or explicit mentions, no use of y/n

Warnings: age-gap, mentions of sex, drinking, Angst (happy ending), pet names (honey), you have a big fight :,(

Word Count: 1.6k

A/n: omg love this idea. Thank you for the request you’re so sweet and I’m happy to do them !! helps so much with writer's block plus I get to do cool stuff like this lol. This was challenging so I hope it doesn't disappoint :P

P.s. if any of yall’s name is Emily i apologize just replace it with the name of someone you hate lol

—

Even from all the way across the bar, you’re burning up, watching the way the woman in front of Joel twirls her hair and flashes her teeth when she laughs over enthusiastically at his jokes. Thankfully his back is to you so you can’t be tortured by whatever his expression—or wherever he’s looking—may be.

Ever since you got to Jackson women have been crowding Joel like he’s the only man on the commune and it’s been driving you up the wall. You want to go over and give Joel a big wet kiss and tell her to fuck off, but you and him have never had a discussion about ‘us’, so you have no real right to claim him. Still, it burns, and that woman, Emily, as you’ve come to learn her name, as Joel’s number one fan, has such a punchable face. A matching burn of the whisky from your glass is welcomed down to your stomach.

When she leans forward, showing off the goods, you can’t stand it anymore, down the dregs of your drink and storm out of the Tipsy Bison. The icy breeze cools you down some but you’re in no way calm once you’re back at the house. Stomping up to your room—you and Joel’s room, you strip your jacket and immediately grab your gun to deep clean. Icey pain drips from your heart down into the crater of lava in your chest and it hisses in your ears.

Sitting at the head of the bed, you’re almost done with the fourth cleaning when Joel’s recognizable stomps sound with the creaking and slam of the front door. You continue to clean, not looking up when he comes in.

“Hey,” he says breathily, innocently.

“Hm. I’m surprised you even came home.” you reply, still not looking up. Still aflame, you keep a mostly even tone but Joel easily catches the pointy edges.

He pauses, then finishes kicking off his boots to straighten up and turn to you, “An’ why’s that?”

“I mean I thought I wouldn't see you until tomorrow morning on your walk of shame from Emily’s house.” you keep your focus on the final wipe down of your gun.

“What?”

“What? Can’t blame me, I saw her eyefucking you. Basically shaking her tits in your face, too. Didn’t stay long though, it was actually kind of fucking gross.”

“Beg your fuckin’ pardon?”

“Oh, don’t act stupid.” you finally meet his gaze, “Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble. Go fuck whoever you want. I guess it’s none of my business. Would have been nice to know that that was the deal here before we started sharing an actual bed, though.” you go back to overpolishing the metal, trying to act nonchalant, but your chest is full of mud.

“What makes you think I’m goin’ around fuckin’ other women?”

“Well, now that you’ve got the pick of the litter, why settle for me?” you finally place your gun down loudly on the nightstand.

Joel raises his voice in sternness, “What the fuck r’you talkin’ about?”

You take a deep breath through your nose, refusing to let your anger go, but the icey, tight pain is tearing at your heart and you can’t stop it from piercing through your voice when you say, “I just—I just thought it was me, I thought it was me you wanted.”

“What—’course you’re—where’s all this comin’ from?”

You stand to face him and scoff, “Please, you think I don’t see the way the women here have been looking at you? They drool all over you, and you just let them, you throw ‘em a smile.” you voice is teeming with attitude, “Never saying a word to me about it. What is it, are you ashamed of me? I have to be your little secret? I’m just some young—some young…” you stop yourself before you finish a sentence you know you’ll regret, no matter how much you want to stick him with it, but it’s too late.

Joel steps one foot towards you and shoves his finger out, glowering, “Good call not finishin’ that sentence.” he growls, “I don’t know who the fuck you’re talkin’ to though cause it sure as hell ain’t me.”

You pick your fire right back up, “I thought maybe I’d be good enough but there's things I don’t have, huh? Need a woman more your speed? Well, you’re free to let Emily fuck you better, just please don’t bring her back here, okay?” you end it with your voice drenched in sarcasm.

It’s Joel’s turn to scoff now, “What the fuck are you talkin’ about? I don’t give a shit about Emily! I’m not fuckin’ her! Wh—” Joel narrows his eyes, “You tryin’ to say I’m a cheater? Is that it? That's what you think a me?”

“N–no,” you stutter, suddenly realizing that that is what you’re accusing him of.

Near shouting, he continues, “You don’t trust me. That's what this is about.”

“No, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” you move towards him but he steps back.

“How the hell else am I supposed’t take that?”

“I’m just scared.” the confession jumps out of you.

“Scared of what?” he shouts.

“Of you leaving me!” your voice breaks and you choke back the onset of a sob, but Joel loses no venom.

“You’re scared of me leaving? After all this time—after everything, you think I’m—I’d—I don’t want to leave you! Talkin’ to Emily, I was just tryin’ t’be fuckin’ polite, be,” he takes another step towards you, “social, that’s all! You think I can’t talk to women without tryna get in their pants? Is that really the kinda man you think I am? Should I stop talkin’ to Maria, too? Cause I’m such a piece a shit cheater I’m probably tryna get at her, too, huh? My own brother's wife? That’s what you think a me?”

“No,” you nearly scream, hitting your hands to your head to grab at your hair, “that’s not what I mean, that’s not what I’m trying to say!”

“Then what are you trying to say?” He yells back.

Your chest is starting to heave, beginning to be overwhelmed with emotion, but you try to keep it under control, not wanting to break down in the middle of an argument. “I just hate seeing it! I hate seeing the women here fucking crawling all over you like cats in heat and you just fucking take it, like you want it, you want them, not me, now that I’m not the only option, you’ve got all these pretty women just waiting for you to knock on their fucking door, and I was just—just—”

“What, just some young pussy?” Joel snarls.

“No one that mattered! No one special! And all of it was empty, all the words, the sex, the time we shared, I was just a placeholder for a proper woman, cause I’m not good enough, was never good enough for you…” your voice shatters as the whirling in your head and heart overcomes you and you step back until the back of your knees hit the bed, then flump down and put your head in your hands, trying not to sob.

Instinctually, Joel comes to kneel before you, his anger beginning to melt away when his attention shifts to you in pain. He takes your wrists to uncover your face, saying nothing, only focusing your eyes and his, now gentle, as you continue to try to control your jumping breaths. After a few moments of you unsuccessfully calming yourself, Joel moves his hand to stroke your cheek, over the side of your face, into your hair. When your breathing has calmed some, he looks over your face and wipes away the few escaped tears. “I hate it when you cry but you look so pretty when you do.” he tells you, soft and quiet, pulling a small laugh out of you. Once your inhales and exhales are at an even pace, he speaks up again, with a soothing tone, “Okay. Now I’ve calmed down, n’ you’ve calmed down.” he takes a deep breath and you do with him, like you’ve learned to, before he continues, “I know all a that was just outta anger. N’ we’re just not at an understandin’ here… Honey I’m in love with you.”

His words make you take a deep, post-cry shuddering breath. Remembering you have to say something back, you whisper, “I’m in love with you, too.”

After a few silent but full moments with Joel stealing glances at your lips, he asks, “Can I kiss you?”

You nod your head as you’re already leaning in as a response. Your lips essentially smash together, want igniting in both of you. You lean forward until he’s on the floor and you’re sitting on top of him, both hands holding his face while one of his clutches your hip and the other slides over your jaw and into your hair. Then Joel pushes you up and onto the bed, nosing into your neck from above you, sticking wet kisses all up and down it while your hands tangle in his hair. He slows and drags kisses back up to your mouth. Sounding drunk, Joel finds time between your mouths to say “Don’ want no one else.”

Between kisses you continue to converse, “So can I punch Emily in the face?”

“Mmm, I don't think Maria would like that very much. Why don’tcha just give me a big sloppy kiss next time she won't leave me th' fuck alone?”

“I can do that. Can we hold hands?”

“Yeah we can do that. Can I squeeze yer ass?”

“Only when someone’s looking. You can do it when they're not either but I would prefer if you did it while you know one of those alley cat’s watchin’.”

“Mhm. Every time. Let em’ all know.”

“You know, you’re gonna have a lot less friends once I scare all of them away.”

“Fuckin’ fine by me. I got everyone I need already.”

#the last of us #joel miller #tlou #joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller fan fiction #joel the last of us #joel tlou #joel miller tlou #joel miller the last of us #the last of us hbo #tlou hbo #joel miller fluff #joel miller fic #joel miller angst

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 2 months

Note

Ok idk if this is to much but can I request Juice Ortiz with Line 24, and then L and M (🔥🔥)? Thank you!!

Tension.

juice ortiz x teller!female reader

warnings - sexual content. cursing.

24. “You like it when I’m mean to you?” & l. Keeping the relationship a secret & m. Catching eyes across a crowded room.

written for my 5k celebration - post here, masterlist here, inbox here.

It’s risky and you know it.

But you just can’t keep your eyes off of Juice Ortiz.

It’s your average Friday night at the Teller Morrow Garage. Everyone’s drinking, smoking, laughing as Tig tells a horribly inappropriate joke. Your brother is sitting at a table with Chibs and Happy, discussing some sort of club business that you frankly don’t really care about.

You turn back to the bar, sipping on your drink and taking a deep breath. You spin on your stool to scan the room again, and catch eyes with the one man you’ve been watching like a hawk. Juice.

He raises his eyebrows at you, winking cheekily before breaking out into a grin. You shake your head, but can’t help but smile.

He looks good. Better than usual. You’re not sure what it is - maybe it’s the tight black t shirt, maybe it’s the tattoos that are peeking through, maybe it’s the cocky smirk that seems to be permanently etched on his face.

You know the both of you will be in so much trouble if your brother finds out. It’ll be bad for club dynamics, bad for your family’s dynamic. But maybe it’s the risk that makes it that much hotter.

He looks at you, the bathroom door, then back at you. You get the message instantly, nodding gently before watching him get up and make his way in that direction.

You give it a few agonisingly long minutes before you slip off your stool, glancing around to check no one has noticed. When you get to the bathroom, he opens the door and pulls you inside, slamming you against the wood.

“Here she is. My pretty whore.”

Your breath catches, gazing at him with blown pupils.

“Don’t call me that,” you choke out, with less conviction than you would have liked.

“Why not, hmm? You’ve been staring at me with your fuck me eyes for the last couple of hours. You think I don’t know what you’re doing?”

He chuckles, leaning in to nip at your neck, arms winding around your back to hold you against him.

“You’re pathetic, baby,” he mumbles against your skin. When you shudder, he laughs almost cruelly. “Oh, honey. You like it when I’m mean to you?”

You shake your head, and he moves a hand to wind around your throat, squeezing gently. You change your answer and nod, knees going weak.

“Here’s the deal,” he drawls into your ear, all low and honeyed. “If you can keep your filthy thoughts off your face for the rest of the night, I’ll take you home later and fuck you the way you want.”

You whine, hands tangling into the back of his shirt.

“That means no fuck me eyes, no lip biting… none of that shit. You hear me?”

You nod, leaning forward to rest your head on his chest.

“You’re gonna get us caught, baby. We’ve got to be more careful.”

You lean up to press a kiss to his lips, tasting beer and cigarette smoke.

“Okay. Deal.”

He smiles at you gently before kissing you again.

“I’m gonna go out first. Wait a while, okay?”

He slips out the door and back to the guys, praying that no one has noticed either of your absences.

You rest your head against the wood and take a deep breath, body thrumming with the anticipation of what’s to come.

#murphy’s 5k celebration #sons of anarchy x reader smut #sons of anarchy x reader #sons of anarchy fic #sons of anarchy x you #sons of anarchy smut #sons of anarchy imagine #juice ortiz x reader #juice ortiz #juice ortiz smut #juicer ortiz imagine #juice ortiz x you

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effortandmore · 1 year

Text

worth all your while (ch.1) | knj x reader

summary: you know kim namjoon from your work, but running into him outside of seoul tips your relationship into new territory and your world upside down. eventually, you wonder how there can be a million ways to say "i love you," and namjoon, a literal genius, can't manage a single one when it comes to you. or: 5 times namjoon can't make himself say "i love you" but thinks you understand him anyway (you do not), and then the one time he gets it right

pairing: namjoon x f!reader

rating: explicit (18+ please)

genre: smut, fluff, light angst, au: famous, but not an idol

warnings: smut, swearing, alcohol, here are the specific smut tags for this chapter: kissing, penetrative sex, fingering, spanking, sex in an airport bathroom (do not recommend, fwiw)

word count: ~5.5k

a/n: idk what to say! i needed to write a fic for yoongi's birthday, but i can't for some reason, so i'm writing this. i hope you enjoy 💜 i'll update chapters probably weekly, maybe bi-weekly, isn't it fun when some things in life are mysteries? the title is from "static" by steve lacy - i love him. thank you as always to the cabal: @ugh-yoongi, @hot-soop, and @the-boy-meets-evil for putting your eyes on this for me. love you all. this is posted to ao3 here if you like to read fics there.

next chapter

Unpopular opinion: airports are magical places.

You didn’t always think that, but you’ve changed. Opinion swayed. All it took was one delay on a layover in London for you to start singing a different tune.

Seoul to anywhere feels like a long flight lately. You love it there, but getting out, back to where you’re from, takes literal days. The short break at Heathrow is welcome, a chance to move around a little before you get on another almost ten hour flight. It seems like a nothing thing, to wander through the concourses and shops after you’ve made it through the customs check. Each time you’re here is the same as the last. Until it’s not. You’ve done it a hundred times: sniff different scents at Jo Malone, look for a bag you shouldn’t spend the money on at Louis Vuitton, talk yourself out of buying duty-free scotch because you know you’d never drink it in front of your mother anyway… Maybe on the way home, you think (but you never do).

“Excuse me.” You’re staring at the Balvenie you can’t really afford, thoughts drifting, when someone startles you.

“Sorry,” you mumble, stepping to the side.

There’s a man there, right there. He’s stepped up close so that your arms are practically touching. He’s tall, with dark hair under a beanie, an expensive jacket that’s made to look like it isn’t, and his face hidden under a mask that isn’t required here. There’s something about him, even though you can only see a stripe of his face, that looks familiar. For some reason, neither of you move; he keeps staring at the thousand-pound bottle of scotch, and you keep staring at him.

“You can’t drink it on the plane, you know?” You say it more than you ask it, and of course he knows. Everyone knows. But you see the corners of his eyes crinkle a little and you think he’s smiling under the mask. He finally turns to look at you.

“Was thinking I’d get it as a gift,” he explains, shrugging his shoulders.

“Nice gift,” you remark.

“Yeah…” he replies, turning his attention back to the bottle. “It’s pretentious, isn’t it?”

And at that, you smile. “Maybe a little. Depends on who it’s for.”

“No one special.”

“It’s none of my business,” you say, “but I wouldn’t buy ‘no one special’ a hundred-pound bottle of scotch, let alone a thousand-pound bottle.”

The man laughs, and you notice another guy walk up, right next to him. He’s bigger, older, and way too serious looking for your taste. They seem to have a silent conversation and then the would-be whisky buyer turns back to you. “Time for my flight,” he says. “Thanks for the advice.”

“Anytime,” you nod, still smiling even though you can’t tell anymore if he’s smiling back. Can’t hurt to be polite.

After he goes, you realize you aren’t going to buy the scotch, either, and it’s probably about time for your flight, too, so you start the scramble to your gate.

One of the bad things about flying all the time is that you feel like you see more than your fair share of delays. And this trip is no different. When you make it to the gate, you can sense the panic before you even see the notification. There’s a particular brand of hysteria that sets in with people when their flights are delayed, and it’s amplified with inter-continental flights in your experience. All of the things that make airports romantic and interesting are the same things that make people think they can behave any way they want and it won’t matter. It's like upon entering, people think they get carte blanche to be raging assholes to the poor airline counter guy who’s just trying to make sure everyone gets where they’re going and probably only makes enough to barely pay his rent.

So, you know before you’re told that there’s a delay, and you can tell by the level ten panic around you that it’s probably a long one. It’s confirmed when you see the headlines across one of the large televisions at the gate. Big storm off the coast of the Eastern US. All flights are delayed from what you can tell. Yours looks to have a delay of about six hours, but you know from experience it could be more. You’ll just have to wait and see. You’re lucky, you want to get home, but there’s really not a huge rush on your end, so you can wait it out if you need to.

There’s a quiet spot at a gate with no pending flight, near yours and a few of the other gates with international flights scheduled to leave. You hate sitting, knowing you’ve done it for a half a day already and have another long flight (eventually) in front of you, but you don’t know what else to do and at least you have a couple books in your carry on.

Maybe thirty minutes passes of you reading when you look up, just to see how things are settling around you as people start to either (like you) become resigned to the fact that they’re not going anywhere for a while, or let their anger hit a fever pitch with the gate agent.

You see a familiar fancy jacket waiting near the ticket counter, his friend from earlier having an animated chat with a woman who doesn’t seem like she speaks enough Korean to be keeping up. Fancy Coat is watching, looking amused and not chiming in, even though you know firsthand he can speak English perfectly well, and could probably be a help to his travel companion.

Because you’re one of those people who can never do things as subtly as you think you do, you’re caught out—Nice Jacket turns his head and his eyes lock with yours before you can look away; he knows you’re watching. He tilts his head, eyes widening with what you hope is amusement and not terror that you were looking. Slowly, he brings his hand up and waves at you, then gives you a gesture like he wants you to wait for something before he leans in and says something to his friend.

You turn back to your book, embarrassed.

A considerable chunk of whatever willpower you have is used in Not Looking when you hear (and feel) someone plop into the chair next to you.

“Good book?” Nice Jacket asks.

“Mmhmm,” you murmur, trying not to make things any weirder than you’ve already made them by staring. It is, in fact, not a good book. But your colleague wrote it, and he’s the special kind of narcissist that will ask you what you thought of it every day you see him until you provide some sort of satisfactory feedback kissing his ass.

“That guy’s a jackass,” he comments.

And that gets your attention. You turn to him, a little surprised. “You know him?”

Nice Jacket nods, eyebrows raised. “Do you not remember me?” he asks.

“From the duty-free shop?”

He laughs, louder than he means to judging by how he stops himself and looks around self-consciously. “No… I think you’ve interviewed me before…”

Things begin to snap into place rapidly. Because now that he says it, he goes from looking vaguely familiar to being instantly recognizable. You don’t really keep up with him or his music, but you have interviewed him, when your asshole colleague had passed one of his assignments to your desk, assuming you’d “like that kind of thing.”

At the time, you’d tried not to let yourself assume the worst about what he meant, and you did the interview over Zoom with no protest to your coworker or your boss. It wasn’t the kind of thing your magazine usually wrote about, but the article was focused on his art collection, and it gave you a good opportunity to learn something you wouldn’t have in a gossip magazine, and a chance to look good for your boss. The whole thing hadn’t lasted more than eight minutes, professional and easier than most of your interviews. Since then, you’ve been in the same room as him a few times at events you’d covered, exchanged greetings and appreciations on both sides for the article, and obviously, you know who he is.

He’s famous, but not like… idol famous. Stage name RM, he’s a rapper and producer who works with a small collective. You see him in magazines and on TV, his popularity growing over the last few years less for his music and more for his work in art preservation.

“Oh my god…” you say, closing your book and dropping your voice to a whisper. “Kim Namjoon. I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize it was you.”

“Good,” he says with a wink. “That’s the point.” He gestures vaguely to his beanie and his mask and the sunglasses he took off when he sat down next to you.

“How are you?” you ask, because it’s polite, and that’s what you should do, even though you’re not even sure why he’s sitting here speaking to you.

“Alright,” he says, but you notice he seems a little amused.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He raises his hands defensively.

“No, what? Why’s it funny to ask how you’re doing?”

Namjoon doesn’t say anything for a second, just watches you with his head cocked. “I guess no one ever really asks me that,” he says.

You scoff. “That’s ridiculous.”

What’s more ridiculous is that you’re sitting in Heathrow having a conversation with this sort of famous person who you kind of know, but not in a “run into you in the airport and have a casual chat” kind of way. Or maybe it is like that, because that’s exactly what happens.

You talk about how he’s doing (pretty well but tired from traveling and ready to be settled in his hotel). Then you talk about your asshole coworker and his not-very-good book. You laugh at a story he tells you about said coworker, and you feel your face heat up when he says how relieved he was that you interviewed them instead of anyone else from your magazine, and how much he’d liked talking to you that day. He’s bluntly honest with you about his preference for doing interviews with Korean-language publications, which you completely understand. He tells you that he didn’t mind doing an interview for your small English-language one because you at least greeted him in Korean and tried out a couple questions in the language.

“It’s my job to make people feel comfortable,” you say flippantly. It’s true, it is your job, and you talk to a lot of sort-of-famous people and their people, so you know that at the end of the day, they’re just people. You get better results and better interviews when you treat them as such. When you tell Namjoon that, you can see him grinning under his mask, you can tell for sure this time by the way the corners of his eyes pinch.

“That’s a nice way to think of it,” he finally says. “It’s good to be treated like Namjoon and not RM sometimes.”

“Happy to be of service,” you say.

Before you can say more, you’re interrupted by his friend, who you now understand isn’t exactly a friend but a manager or a bodyguard or some combination of both. He explains that it’ll be a few hours, that there aren’t any other flight options, and that he and Namjoon can go make themselves a little more comfortable in the airport lounge. It’s spoken like a suggestion, but the way he side-eyes you as he speaks makes you certain it’s more of a directive. Namjoon nods along until his manager tells him, in hushed Korean, that he can’t just sit out in the open talking to strangers.

“She’s not a stranger,” he says, clearly pleased with himself.

After a brief explanation that you’re an acquaintance (which is how Namjoon puts it and is a little more generous than you would have been), his manager lightens up, and even keeps his mouth shut when Namjoon invites you to come with them to the lounge. He does, however, insist on walking alongside you when you agree to go with them, making Namjoon walk a little ways in front of you both. Better safe than sorry, you suppose, even though no one seems to be paying any attention to the three of you.

At the lounge, his manager has a brief conversation with the airline employee at the desk, and then the three of you are whisked through the entrance, past the service desk and the bar, and into a small, private room at the back of the lounge. Namjoon puts his bag down and moves to the coffee machine, pausing to ask if you want anything as he fumbles with the stack of cups there. Cute. The professional in you hates that you even had that thought pass through your mind, but the rest of you doesn’t mind. He is cute, he gets paid to be cute (at least partially), he knows he’s cute. You have eyes, so obviously you see it, too.

His manager unceremoniously pulls an eye mask and headphones out of his bag, seats himself in the corner, and announces he’s going to try and sleep and to wake him up if anything interesting happens, leaving the two of you essentially on your own.

When you have your drinks, you pull your masks off, settle into loungers in the opposite corner of the room, and start talking again. It comes easily between the two of you—you’re used to asking questions and he’s used to answering them. He’s going to New York for a “personal schedule,” and you don’t ask for more details because you know he wouldn’t give them to you anyway. His whole face lights up when he tells you about an exhibit at the Whitney he’s hoping to catch, about how he’s willing to suffer through the jet lag for a glimpse at a certain Hockney that he probably won’t ever see in Korea.

Eventually, the tables turn a little, and he starts asking you about your own life. It’s less interesting (in your opinion) than his, but he’s a good listener, and asks good questions. He seems really excited (and remembers, to your surprise) that you’re an arts reporter, asks what you’re writing about lately, asks if you’ve seen anything new that caught your eye, even asks you for gallery recommendations around Seoul. You have a few, and he actually jots down notes in his literal notebook while you speak, claiming he’ll forget which you recommended if he doesn’t write it down. Cute again.

Hours pass, and you’d swear it’s only been a few minutes. It’s been a long time since you talked with someone like this—leisurely, candidly (or as candid as he can be, anyway). You get food brought to you by an airline employee, and you know it’s an upgrade from what’s being served in the rest of the lounge, but Namjoon isn’t phased at all. You suppose this is his normal, so there’s nothing out of the ordinary for him.

“I can’t believe you get special food,” you say when you’ve finished.

“Special food?”

“Well yeah, they’re not serving anything other than soup and crackers out there. Maybe carrot sticks.”

“Oh…” he says quietly, brow furrowed, like he’s really thinking about it. “Do you think I should ask them to bring barbeque to everyone else?” You actually think he means it. So fucking cute, you think.

After you talk him out of wielding his influence, mostly using the argument that it would be an immense amount of work for the airline staff, you settle in again. He produces a blanket from a cabinet against one of the walls of the room, and it’s an obvious sign this whole experience is totally typical for him. When he hands you the blanket, you can’t help it, you smile at him and probably look a little smitten. You might just be.

You offer him part of the blanket, and he accepts, pulling it over his lap and asking you if he took too much. (He didn’t). You talk more, and you feel relaxed with him—it’s so easy to forget he’s who he is and you’re who you are. It’s just like getting to know any other casual acquaintance better except he’s stupid good-looking and you start to notice that your faces are a lot closer together than they started out as you talk about Marci Kwon and the interesting work that the Asian American Art Initiative is doing. It was the last article you’d written, and you’re surprised to hear he’s read it.

You’re saying something about non-hierarchical modes of presenting research in art when you realize he’s not listening anymore, just staring at you intently. You’ve been talking a lot. For a while… Maybe talking too much; maybe he’s bothered.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

His eyes widen like he’s the one who’s been caught-out this time. “I’m really good,” he says, almost like he’s surprising himself.

It makes you beam. “Good,” you say. “I’ve liked talking to you.”

He nods. “I’ve liked talking to you, too. You have a lot to say.”

The fact that you can feel his breath on your face when he speaks makes you certain that you’re sitting too close, that something is happening that probably shouldn’t be. It makes you forget that “you have a lot to say” isn’t always a good thing. You think that everything might sound good when it comes from his mouth, that even the worst insult would trickle out like honey. Your heart rate has picked up, you now notice, and you both keep just staring at each other—you don’t know why you don’t move or look away, it’s like you can’t even though you know you should.

Namjoon’s eyes flick up behind you to where his manager is, and you can hear the man snoring, so you know he’s not aware at all of what’s happening right in front of him.

“They don’t have cameras in here,” Namjoon says. “It’s why we come here.”

You nod, nothing to say to that—you’re not even sure why he said it unless…

“Can I kiss you?”

That is the exact moment when every coherent and rational thought you have ever had rushes out of your brain like a waterfall. You’re not even sure how you manage to respond, but this very cute, very smart, very interesting person has just expressed interest in you of all people, and you’d be an idiot not to say yes.

“Oh my god, please,” you say all in one hurried breath.

And before you’re even finished, his lips are on yours. It’s soft, more chaste than you’d expected, but it doesn’t stay that way when he nips at your bottom lip and licks into your mouth. One of his hands comes to the back of your neck, fingers teasing at your hair and pulling you closer as you practically melt into him. It’s a good kiss, a fantastic kiss, and all you can think is more, more, more as the two of you try and do your best to be as close as you can over the armrests of the stupid lounge chairs.

When you part, his eyes are a little wild, and you think yours must be, too.

“I have to wake him up soon,” he says, looking past you. “It’s almost time for our flight.”

You glance over your shoulder at his manager who’s still totally unaware of what’s happening around him, and then stand, offering a hand to Namjoon, too.

It’s a rare moment of boldness, but something’s come over you, and you’re acting with very little thought as to what you’re doing and how stupid it probably is. “Come on,” you say, tugging him up. When he’s standing right in front of you, you put your hands on his chest and raise up on your tiptoes to whisper, “Let’s get out of here for a minute.”

He wipes across his bottom lip with his thumb, pausing probably to think about what you’re implying, and then he bends to kiss you quickly before he agrees. “Okay, yeah, let’s go.”

It’s not your fault that you know where the ‘family restroom’ is—you passed by it on the way to the back of the lounge and you notice things, you remember things.

You hope he doesn’t think you do this kind of thing all the time, or ever, although you don’t know why you care what he thinks since you’re also willfully oblivious to any looks you might be getting from any passersby who see you tug him into the room behind you.

It’s sheer luck that your go-to travel outfit is a fairly basic knit dress. It takes him no time to have you pinned up against the door, lips on your neck, hand rucking up the front of your dress so that he can get a hand under your tights. God, it feels good. He feels good, large and solid and his fingers… fuck. They’re long and nimble and he’s clearly not new to this, but neither are you, so you roll your hips forward and moan at the contact when he slips his hand under your tights.

“You’re already wet,” he says, surprised, pulling his head back so he can look at you properly, his fingertips skimming between your legs.

You nod and pull him back in to kiss you again—you only know a few things about Kim Namjoon, but you already know you like talking to him, and now you know you like his lips on yours even more than that.

“Come here,” you say, and slide away from the door, pulling him with you so that you can bend over the small vanity where you can see yourselves in the mirror above it. He’s been polite, almost too nice for what you’re in the mood for, and you don’t know if he’ll take the initiative, so you lock eyes with him in the mirror and slide your tights down from under your dress, stepping out of them one leg at a time.

In the mirror, you watch as he tentatively sticks a hand out to feel you again, groaning when his fingertips slide against you so easily. One, then quickly two fingers enter you, slowly moving in and out, and he studies your reflection, like he’s trying to learn what you like. It’s a lot of effort for a one-night stand in a Heathrow airline lounge. He pulls his joggers down; he’s already hard, feels big against your ass and the back of your thigh.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” he sighs. It’s apparently not lost on him how you watch him in the mirror, pupils blown, because then he asks, “You want to watch me fuck you?” He winds the fingers of his free hand around a handful of your hair and tentatively pulls your head up so he can look you in the eye through the mirror.

You watch him focus on you nodding and pulling your bottom lip between your teeth; he drops your hair as he stares. He has to know already how much you want it, but he makes you say it anyway.

“Tell me you want to see me make you come,” he whispers into the back of your neck, breath hot against the shell of your ear. Behind you, he’s rolling on a condom that seems to have appeared out of nowhere—you wonder if he had one in his pocket ‘just in case.’

You smirk, widen your eyes, and nod again. “Please? Will you fuck me? I want—” You pause to turn your head over your shoulder and kiss him again. “I want to watch you make me come.”

Holding onto your hip, he pushes his cock, thick and flushed, into you quickly; you don’t have much more time before his flight.

He groans as he starts thrusting, pulling almost all the way out slowly before snapping back into you.

“Oh shit…” you whisper each of the first few times he pushes into you.

Your head falls as he fucks you—It’s so good, he’s deep deep deep, and you feel so full, and you might cry it’s been so long since someone’s fucked you like this… But he wants your attention, so he brings a hand up and slaps you lightly along the back of your thigh to get you to look up.

It wasn’t hard, but you’re barely acquaintances, so he seems to hesitate, looking to your reflection for reassurance. In return, you look him straight in the eye and let out a moan.

“You wanted to watch, so watch,” he whispers.

“Do it again... please,” you plead softly as you raise your head and push your hips back against him.

He lifts the other hand and strikes the swell of your ass this time, harder than the first slap, making you suck in a breath. White knuckles grip the sides of the sink as your skin turns pink, but you’re still smirking and soaking wet, asking for more as he grips your hips to fuck you harder.

“Harder… I need you… feels so good,” you pant.

You move to lean on an elbow and bring your other hand down to your clit. His hand follows yours and moves it out of the way as he leans forward to whisper, “I thought you wanted me to make you come.”

“Then do it.”

Namjoon slows the movements of his hips to focus on you, rubbing circles over your clit with his fingertips and sucking on your neck, right against your pulse point, sending shivers along the length of your spine.

He rolls his hips into her as you grind against him, whimpering quietly, “Fuck, Joon… yes… oh, fuck…” You trail off, not able to focus on anything except his hands and his cock. You don’t even care that you’re already using nicknames with him.

“Finally got you to stop talking so much,” he teases as he works you nearer to orgasm.

You’d laugh, okay with being teased, except you’re practically shaking now, close to release, so he puts more pressure on your clit and moves his cock in you a little less deep, hitting you exactly where you need him each time.

God, you look good together. There’s a sweat sheen on your foreheads, his cheeks are painted with a rose blush, and your eyes are wide, watching yourself with curiosity in the mirror as you start to come.

You’re close, so close, tightening on his cock as he lets go of your hip and puts a hand over your mouth just in time to muffle the loud cry you make when your orgasm hits.

Your cunt pulses around him and he drags his hands slowly away from it and your mouth, back to your hips.

“You ready?” he whispers.

“Good girl,” he affirms as you nod, and that absolutely shouldn’t have you ready to come on his cock again, but maybe you have a praise kink you didn’t know about. You whimper when he starts fucking into you again, resuming his previous faster pace.

It doesn’t take long for Namjoon to come after that, with you babbling nonsense about how good his cock is and begging for him to come inside you. He thrusts into you one last time and releases into the condom, watching in the mirror as you give him a satisfied grin and roll your hips with his.

When he pulls out of you, he drops to his knees and kisses you where he’d left a handprint on your ass. It makes your breath hitch, feels too intimate for people barely know one another and who’ve just fucked in an airport bathroom. But then he pulls you up to standing, smoothing your dress around your legs. He grabs a bundle of toilet paper and hands it to you to wipe up.

“Look at you,” you tease, “what a gentleman.”

He pulls his joggers up and watches you flush the tissue while he discards the condom. You fiddle around for your tights and slide them on under your dress.

When you’re finished, you lean against the sink and watch him—he’s cute like this: face still flushed, hair mussed, and most of all, he looks as nervous as you’re starting to feel.

“I don’t do this kind of thing,” you say. Your voice is a little wobbly, and you wonder where any of the self-assurance you’d had earlier when you dragged him into the room has gone to.

Namjoon laughs, bright and dimpled, before he replies. “Fuck, me either. I mean… people sometimes… know who I am and I have to be careful.” The last words come out in a rush.

“Careful how?”

He looks fully embarrassed now. “LIke my manager is going to kick my ass when we walk out of here and… well, people back home would have a field day with this if someone saw.”

You’re not even sure what to say to that. Because of course you know who he is, you get that he’s famous, but the thought of talking about this with anyone just seems… It’s not like it makes you look very good either, so you’d never. It would be professional suicide; you’d never be taken seriously again. You spit out the next words mindlessly, just trying to make it less awkward. “You think this was the ‘something interesting’ we were supposed to wake him up for?” Namjoon just looks at you like you’re nuts before you both burst into laughter.

When you catch your breath again, you get a little more serious, your voice softer. “I’ll sign something. Whatever we should have done before, we can do it now, you can email me or whatever. God, this is crazy…” You trail off, consequences of what you’ve done starting to sink in.

“Okay… Thank you,” he says. “I hate how awkward this is. I’m sorry.”

You cross your arms over your chest, suddenly feeling a lot more vulnerable than you can ever remember feeling. Is he sorry that you did this together or is he sorry that it’s awkward? You don’t really know. Maybe it’s both.

“This was a mistake,” you say without thinking, and his face falls.

“You think that?” he asks quietly, stepping into your space and reaching out to stroke your arms gently. “Because I really don’t. I know things are complicated with me? But… I liked you when I met you for the interview, I liked you today, and I’d like to see you again. I really wouldn’t have done this if I didn’t think anything would come of it. I’m not that kind of guy.”

“Aren’t all guys that kind of guy?” you ask, wondering if he’s even for real.

“No,” he says. And you think he’s sincere. “Really. I’ve never done something like this before.”

You nod, uncrossing your arms and letting your hands slide into his. “So, we should go though… You have a flight to catch, and I guess I have an NDA to sign.” You’re trying to tease, but you think you probably just sound fucking terrified.

“Can I have your number?” he asks.

“For the NDA,” you affirm, taking the phone he’s sticking out to you and typing in your contact info.

“And for a date, maybe?” he says. And when you look up at him, he looks bashful, nervous even, as if you could ever say no to this man with a big brain and a dick to match who has just made you feel at least twelve new things in the last few hours.

“I’ll be back in Seoul in two weeks,” you say, handing him his phone back.

He smiles wide at that, and leans in to kiss your cheek. Cute again.

“I’ll call you,” he says eagerly. “And someone will be in touch about the paperwork… Sorry again.”

“Not your fault.” You shrug. “But you should head out first so it looks less weird, probably. I’ll freshen up for a minute and then be out in a bit.”

“Right,” he agrees. “Okay. So… I’ll see you in Seoul?”

You can’t help but be endeared to him; the fact that he seems to think you might actually not want to see him again makes you go all squishy inside. “It’s a date,” you confirm.

“Great! Okay… I’m gonna just… go now.” He points at the door, fumbling behind himself for the latch, like he doesn’t want to break eye contact with you.

“Okay, Namjoon… It was good to run into you and…” You hate that you can’t say anything coherent, your sentence just ending in, “stuff.”

He laughs and pulls his mask back on. “It was good to run into you and stuff, too.”

Finally, he’s got the door unlocked, and before he slips back into the lounge he says, “I’m really going to call you, okay?”

You aren’t sure why, but you believe him when he says it even though you know better, and all the weird feelings you’ve been having about him come together in a bright firework feeling in your chest. Something like hope, maybe.

“Talk to you soon,” you say quietly.

And then he’s gone, and you’re left breathless, wondering what you’ve just done.

next chapter

#bts fanfic #namjoon fic #namjoon smut #namjoon imagine #bts smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #bts fic #bts writing #fic: wayw

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kurosstuff · 29 days

Note

2nd time requesting so bear with me please. Sera x Gn!Exorcist!Reader who came back from an extermination and is very tired. Just some fluffy stuff and maybe a small tiny bit of spicy stuff. It doesn't have to be a Fanfic, it can be head cannons. I don't really mind :]

Please and thank you!!

Gonna be a headcanon this time cause- I got a very bad headache at the time of me writing this♡ your so sweet♡ Oh -So only one drabble this time- I do hope you enjoy still though

Warning(s): fluffy mostly, some blood and some spice tho- slighr angst? Very short headcanons

Ngl I like to think all the sera x exorcist reader are all like- connected that I did- ..maybe I'll make a thing about it? If anyone would like that idk

Sera x gn!exorcist!reader

Every time without fail. The second you enter your home, Sera is there waiting for you- eagerly to help you relax more than be aware of how taxing - how draining your job is. How she carefully pulls your tired Frame to her huge one not minding the blood touching her or her dress-

"Shh, little one~ my darling little swan~, you've done so good for me~ protecting Heaven~. " she purred out, shushing your tired body from your worries of you dirting her. Ruining her pure white dress- bleaching it in such a sinful color.

Red.

Such a gross thing on such a pure angel "now now~ I've made a warm bath for you~" Sera purred out, carrying you to the bath, her large height bending into the bathroom setting you down. Planning on helping you relax fully-

First a bath- to clean yourself of the filth(and to ensure you are unharmed) sera will bath you herself humming to you as she does

Just going all out bubble baths massages wing massages- SCALP massages- she wants her precious angel to feel relaxed

praises- I repeat PRAISES.

THE WHOLE TIME?? She'll praise you none stop- even after she carries you out of the bath- dressing you in pajamas she set out-

She won't let you eat though- she'll make you drink water but food? Forget it. She read somewhere that food after traumatic events they'll throw it up and she's scared that'll happen to you when your supposed to rest

Cuddled all the way- just wrapping you in her six wings whispering to you sweet praises? Watching you turn into a puddle into her arms? GOD she can't get enough of it- how your wings flap how you chirp-

She doesn't mind having a little fun to help relax you- she doesn't mind at ALL only thing though- she won't allow you to lift a finger- just going all out on servicing you- ensuring your satisfied- it's all about you-

She'll stay the whole night cuddling kissing up on you praising- only time she won't do spicy is if your truly exhausted and/or hurt in any way

She'd be too panicked over you to even think of such a act- she's just to busy worrying about you to act on that "impulse"

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #sera seraphim #hazbin hotel sera #sera x reader

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foreststranger · 8 months

Text

DAN FENG - Tethering The Sky and Reaching For Heaven

ꜱᴛᴀʀʀɪɴɢ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

↳ 『honkai: star rail』dan feng/imbibitor lunae/yinyue jun (ugh can he stop having so many names??? it makes tagging a complete nightmare) x gn!reader

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

↳ parting ways with silly dragon guy before he reincarnates and dies idk idgaf abt his backstory 👍👍👍

𑁍 ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1.0k

ɴᴏᴛᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

↳ surprise!!!! yet another short fanfic abt a long haired man! anyways happy early 1.3! i wish everyone a very e6 lynx and good luck on whoever you’re pulling for. ALSO HOW TF DO YOU DO CHINESE DIMINUTIVES/HONOURIFICS IN X READER FICS??? 阿Y/N???? OR MAYBE IN PINYIN??? a’y/n or ah’y/n??? OR WOULD IT BE LIKE 阿[the first character of your name] LMFAO

“What do you mean ‘you’re leaving?’ Where are you going?” You ask, taking a step closer to him, trying in vain to figure him out.

“We won’t see each other again. I’ve… done something horrible.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“…It’s not our main concern as of now. I’m sure my punishment will come for me soon. I don’t know how much time I have left with you.”

“Okay, what’s going on? I still have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You’ll understand soon. I’d just like to spend one final moment with you.” Dan Feng grabs ahold of your hands, his grip almost painful as his fingers lock with yours.

“Are you… You don’t love me anymore?” A thousand thoughts rush through your head, yet none of them makes sense. “Do you want to see other people?”

“No, no, no. Of course not. That’s not what I meant. I meant that…” He pauses, concentrating. “We don’t have much time left.”

“But what does that-“

“Forget it. Would you just follow me, 心肝? Humour me. Please.” Your eyebrows furrow at the odd hypocorism. Before you can answer him, Dan Feng is leading you towards the dock. Bright yellow ginkgo leaves drift down from the sky, signalling a change in the year as they fall. There’s a scent in the early autumn air, and it reeks of… gloom; fraught with melancholy and a lingering anxiety that seems to cling to you. It whispers into your ear sweet serenades, singing a cacophony of incoming danger. The signal of change grows to a warning.

“Why are we heading towards the water?”

“Please, 亲爱的. Do not question me right now. Just… let us have a simple conversation. Would that be alright?” He sighs as the two of you exit the main area of the Alchemy Commission.

“I guess… You’re acting weird, you know that?” you sigh. “How was your day?”

“Great. And yours?” He answers a little too quickly.

“It’d be better if I knew what was happening.” Dan Feng turns his head to look back at you, a million words he wants to say are hidden behind his watery eyes.

Your shoe gets stuck in a crack in the stone walkway as you’re busy staring at him. You stop to pull it out but Dan Feng yanks on you, your shoe slipping off of your foot as he continues walking.

“Hey, wait! 枫仔! My shoe!” He doesn’t let go, his hand shaking in yours with a sense of urgency. “How am I supposed to walk without it?” You hop on a single foot, trying to keep up with his pace. In response, he picks you up into a bridal carry, cradling you like a parent would for their child.

“O-oh. Uh… okay. I guess I don’t mind…” You look up at his trembling jaw. Whatever’s going on, it must be very important to Dan Feng. If only he’d spit it out already so that you could offer your comfort. But the most you can offer right now is a small kiss. You bring your head up, pressing your lips against his cheek before resting your head back down on his forearm. The display of affection causes Dan Feng to stop in his tracks, but he quickly starts walking again.

“I...” He clears his throat, a light blush blossoming on his face. “That… means a lot to me right now. Thank you.”

“It’s the least I could offer you, 枫仔. You look so sad… Tell me what’s wrong.” He looks towards the horizon and the setting sun, a forlorn expression painting his face. The shadows of the evening light leave him looking especially somber. For a moment, he wants to tell you the whole truth. But he holds himself back to spare your feelings.

“I’m going somewhere. And… I won’t be returning. I am sorry, [name]. Truly. I do not wish to part ways but…” He looks down at you. A tear drips off of his face and onto yours. “There is nothing to be done about it. I… wouldn’t have done it if I realized the consequences sooner.”

“You’re… not joking. Would you tell me where you’re going? And when? Why are you being so vague?” You still couldn’t grasp the concept.

“亲爱的，you would hate me if I told you the whole truth. I could not leave knowing that you despised me. But… I’m sure you’ll find out soon when the news gets out.” Dan Feng looks back up towards the sky. You follow his gaze towards a few clouds that are coloured a hue of red from the sunset.

“I love you dearly. I apologize… I have forgone our future and forsaken you. Please remember me as someone you loved, and not a traitor to the Luofu.”

“Er… okay…? You’re really leaving?”

“Yes, I am afraid so…”

“…I love you too. Wherever you’re going, don’t forget that, okay? I… I really can’t believe it. I’m not gonna see you again. Ever…? Will you come visit me?”

“That is not possible, I fear. Though I wish more than anything that I could.”

The two of you reach the harbour. Dan Feng sets you down on the wooden planks and takes a seat beside you, dipping his legs into the water.

“Your pants are gonna be soaked, 笨蛋!”

“I am aware of that fact.” He pays you no mind, looking on into the horizon again. You gently hold is hand in yours.

“This… this is it? The last time I’ll see you? And we’re just… staring at nothing in complete silence?”

“You are speaking right now, [name].”

“What did you even do?” He glances at you. But as you make eye contact, he can’t seem to look away.

“…What are you doing?”

“You ask so many questions, 亲亲. I prefer it when you’re asleep. You’re much cuter in bed, too.” Dan Feng lightens up a little, a smile on his face as he teases you. “I’m just…” He shakes his head, as if to get himself out of a daze. “I’m just trying to remember your face. I need to make sure I don’t forget it…” His expression returns to how it was before, desolate and heartbroken.

“Make me a promise, 亲亲.”

“Go on.”

“We will meet in my next lifetime. And… we will live out a future that we could not have in this one.” He holds out his pinky finger and you take it.

“Sounds nice. I’ll hold you to it, Dan Feng.”

ask before translating, taking inspo from (not copy), reposting, etc. my work. remember to credit me and if you’re taking inspo from it, please @ me as I’d like to see what you do with my ideas!

#dan feng #honkai star rail #honkai: star rail #dan feng x reader #yinyue jun #yinyue jun x reader #imbibitor lunae #imbibitor lunae x reader #.forestfics ☆

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