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steddieas-shegoes · 3 months

Text

so glad i found you

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'love is coparenting'

rated t | 1,428 words | cw: mention of previous marriage (steve's) | tags: established relationship, single dad steve (except he isn't anymore *wink wink*), steddie dads, modern au, marriage proposal

💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

"Sarah, come on!" Steve yelled from the kitchen, his eyes drifting to the clock that he hoped was lying. They were gonna be late for school. Again.

"Daddy, I can't find my jacket!" Sarah came running through the kitchen, only half-dressed, no backpack in sight.

"What do you mean? It was on the hook last night."

"It's not now."

Steve groaned.

And then a jacket was thrust into his hands and a sleep-rough voice was in his ear. "Found it on the floor in the bathroom."

Steve grabbed the jacket from Eddie, kissing his cheek in thanks.

"Eddie found it, let's go!" Steve yelled before whispering to just Eddie. "Thank you, baby. Sorry for waking you up."

"Needed to get up anyway. Wanted to say bye to Sarah."

Steve watched as Eddie walked over to the cabinet that held their vitamins. He reached in and grabbed the gummies Sarah was supposed to take every day. Steve wasn't always the best about remembering them, but Eddie never forgot.

He reached in the fridge next, grabbing the smoothie Steve forgot about and handing it to him. "Since I know you didn't eat anything," Eddie kissed his cheek again and leaned against the counter holding the gummies for Sarah.

"Thanks, Eds," Steve said as Sarah came crashing back into the kitchen and reached for her jacket. "Why did you move this into the bathroom?"

"I didn't."

"Ah, I fear the ghosts are at it again, Steve," Eddie said, smirking when Sarah giggled. He handed her the gummies once she had her arms in the jacket. "Vitamins to make you big and strong, your highness."

"Thanks, Dad."

Everyone froze. The clock on the wall stopped ticking. The air was sucked out of the room.

Sarah was bright red, and because she wasn't the type to stick around an awkward situation, she turned and walked out of the room.

Eddie blinked at Steve, lips parted as he tried to remember how to breathe.

He'd been with Steve for just over a year, and while he didn't technically live with them, he spent more time at their apartment than his own. He was on Sarah's emergency pick-up list, took her with him to run errands when Steve had to work late, bought her things when the budget allowed just because he wanted to, and would read to her most nights that he stayed over. In many ways, he was her dad.

She hardly knew her mom, only spent two weeks every summer with her and was perfectly fine with that. Steve's ex-wife had admitted from the beginning of the pregnancy that she thought it was a mistake and when she filed for divorce when Sarah was six months old, Steve wasn't surprised. She had no interest in being a mom the way Steve had so desperately wanted to be a dad. But even still, Eddie never wanted them to feel like he was trying to force any type of parental power.

She'd called him Eddie until this moment, and he'd been completely fine with it. He would've been fine with it forever if it meant he got to have them both.

"I can talk to her. I don't think she meant to say it and it's okay if you don't want her to. She'll understand and-" Steve started rambling, trying to prevent Eddie from panicking.

But he wasn't. He was just doing his best not to start crying.

"But did she mean it?" He asked, voice shaking as he realized how much he did want her to call him Dad.

"I dunno, Eds. Probably. You know she never says things she doesn't mean. But we can talk to her-"

"No. I mean, yes, we should. But not because I don't want her to." Eddie took a deep breath. "I've kinda been her dad for a while now. It feels like it, at least. We've been in this together for most of the last year, ya know? I wanna be this for her and for you."

Steve was going to melt into a puddle, maybe right through the floor into the apartment below them. The nice old couple who lived there would have to mop him up.

"Daddy? Da-Eddie?" Sarah's small voice said from the doorway.

"Come here, sweet pea," Steve got down closer to her level. She was tall for her age, but even at eight years old, she was barely level with his chest. "Do you wanna call Eddie Dad? There's no wrong answer."

Eddie nodded, getting down to her level, too.

"It won't hurt my feelings if you just said it by accident, princess. I promise I love being your Eddie," he smiled at her.

He meant that, he wouldn't lie to her. But a small part of him hoped she wouldn't go back to calling him just Eddie after that. Not after he had a taste of what it could be like to be her dad.

"Well, you do dad stuff with me. Like when we built that birdhouse because I was scared the robin would have her eggs in a tree and they'd fall and crack and the babies would die. And when you took me shopping for a dress so I could go to Daddy's awards for work. And you always read to me with the voices and stuff." Sarah was playing with her hair, a nervous habit she'd somehow picked up from Eddie in such a short time. "And that's stuff that Daddy does with me all the time too, like when you're not here with us to do it. And sometimes even when you are and you both do it it feels like I have two dads. I like having two dads."

Steve and Eddie were both barely holding back tears as she spoke. She'd always been incredibly brave about her feelings.

"I like doing all that stuff with you, princess. But I would love it all no matter what you called me, okay?" Eddie said around a barely contained sob.

"But you love Daddy and me right?"

"Of course."

"And you kinda live with us."

He let out a wet laugh. "Yeah, I guess I kinda do."

"And you maybe will get married?"

Steve nearly choked on his own breath. "Sarah, honey, remember I told you that kind of decision is something that takes time and-"

"Yeah, princess. I think maybe we will. Not right now, but someday," Eddie interrupted.

Steve resisted glaring at him. He knew better than to make promises to a child, they'd already been over this before, and he could already see Sarah's wheels spinning.

"Wait-"

"So I can wear a pretty dress?" Sarah asked, as if that was the most important thing. "Can I hold both your hands?"

"If your Daddy is okay with it when it happens. But you know what has to happen first?" Eddie poked her dimple, smiling at her with teary eyes. "He has to say yes."

Sarah looked over at Steve, who was...confused.

"Daddy! Say yes!"

"He's gotta ask!" Steve exclaimed. "And he doesn't have a ring. We've only been together a year."

"Stevie."

Something in Eddie's voice made Steve pause and look at him instead of Sarah.

"I have a ring. Not with me, but. I already know you're it for me." Eddie held Sarah's hand and Steve's. "I just wanted to make sure Sarah was okay with it first. So. Sarah Harrington."

"Yes, Dad?"

Jesus, Steve was pretty sure he would die from this. In a good way, maybe the best way, but Jesus Christ.

"Would it be okay if I ask your dad to marry me? I could be your other dad and I promise I can read to you every night."

"Hm." Sarah thought for barely a second before she beamed at Steve. "Daddy, I'm saying yes. So you have to say yes. I want Eddie to live with us forever."

The most important thing to Steve was someone who Sarah loved and who loved Sarah in return, someone who was part of their family because they wanted to be, someone who felt proud to be theirs.

Eddie checked off all of that and then some.

He looked at Eddie and smiled. "Well, you heard the princess. Yes!"

Being late for school turned into being absent from school. Steve and Eddie skipped work for the day so they could all be together. Eddie went to his apartment to get the ring and Sarah made decorations for a "real" proposal.

He didn't mind that it wasn't anything extravagant. None of them did.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddielovemonth #love is coparenting

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seattlesellie · 11 months

Note

Can you write an ellie fic where she's getting off to photos of reader and moaning readers name and reader walks in on her

million times yes <3 ☁️🤍🐚🌫️

warnings: mdni!, masturbation, ellie’s a little bit of a weirdo, ellie gets caught.

Oops ♡

For you, being Ellie’s roommate was... hard. Unwashed dishes, the occasional sight of her boxer briefs messily laying around on the living room floor (“They fell from the laundry basket” she told), old crumpled yellow papers on the fuzzy carpet, an unwashed ashtray and a shit-ton of disorganized cards and pins adorning every single corner of the apartment.

But for for Ellie, oh, for Ellie it was even harder.

She always had a soft spot for things she’d never get. Your empty shampoo bottles never bothered her, neither did your habit of constantly forgetting to blow out the vanilla scented candles you lit once in a while, even after she told you they could be a fire hazard every. single. time.

What bothered Ellie, weren’t your complains, and neither were the repeating sounds and buzzes of your alarm clock followed by exactly eight hits on the snooze button (she counts, the walls are pretty thin).

What bothered Ellie, is that you didn’t give a single fuck about her. Or at least, that’s what she had convinced herself of.

When you’d lounge pretty on the couch, nestled within a cozy woolen blanket, your fingers tirelessly swiping and swiping and swiping through every single dating app known to man, she’d watch you intently, and stare.

It wasn’t because she was judging you, god knows she had a tinder phase herself (Amanda was her last straw. she said Ellie talked about her roommate “too much”, that she “needed to figure that shit out”, and then added a huff and a sigh followed by a “fucking lesbians, man”)

It was because she didn’t fucking get it. Could you not see what’s right in front of you? you didn't seem to... grasp the obvious. Don’t get it wrong, Ellie was not overconfident, and neither was she cocky. She just… noticed. She was observant by nature, and she knew, she was convinced shed never heard you laugh the way you do with her, with anybody else in the world. When your best friends were over for a girls night— even then, she would hear muted laughter and the occasional screech (barely audible over the backdrop of "The Smiths" blaring through her headphones) but never, ever, did that breathy, real, borderline on wheezing sound escape your mouth when you were with them. It was idly saved for her.

She’d take her earphones out— because perhaps she’d missed it, maybe she was delusional, maybe you did laugh like that— and then, plug them back in when she was met with silence or the gentle symphony of peaceful snores, and return to the solace of her music. She’d hollow in deep slumber, and have incredibly bizarre dreams of her pretty roommate roaming and floating around the apartment only in her underwear— and for some reason, a horn on her head. Dreams were fucking weird, man.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

“The Truman Show” played on tv. Jim Carey just made a funny face, and Ellie shoved another slice of greasy, brooklyn pizza in her mouth. She chewed, loudly (you sighed) and wiped her lips on her shoulder.

“I’d literally lose it if I found out my life was a tv show” you remarked, your eyes shifting from the remaining pizza to the flickering television screen.

“Meh” Ellie shrugged.

“I’d lose it if it was a video game though. Imagine if like— someone controlled every single movement you made… scary, man”

She huffed, and threw the pizza crust on the table. It fell on the floor. These fucking ants would come again, you knew they would! you gave her a stern look.

“Sorry” she softly sighed, and bent down to pick the crust off the pavement. Her boxers poked through her sweats, you looked across the room, and then you looked again. God.

“Plug you on their PS5, and go… ham and stuff” you giggled.

“Wild shit…” she shrugged. “Wild shit”

Jim Carey’s character just met the deepest corner of its own little world.

Ellie’s eyes were glued to the screen, even though she’d seen that flick about a million times.

You scrolled through your phone mindlessly. You know she hated when you did that while watching something with her— but you did it anyways. Something about the way her eyebrows scrunched together when she peaked at the screen through the corner of her eye always made your heart flutter. She pouted, and you tried to hide the way your lips curled upwards into a small smile.

“Should I post this on insta?” you questioned, handing ellie your phone. She took it in her hands, and the brightness was so high her eyes twinkled.

She bit her bottom lip, and then her top one.

“You’re like… half naked in that” she huffed. She wasn’t wrong, the bikini was so so tiny and the salt water covering your body, making it practically glisten in the sun, didn’t help the sensual undertones of said picture.

“I know” you stated.

She looked at you, and then looked at the screen again. Don’t look too long, she thought to herself. She handed the phone back to you, and stared at the television. Great, she just missed the best part!

“Is that a no?” you quipped.

“That’s a… who are you posting that for?” she tried asking casually, and mask her jealousy with curiosity.

There must be someone. there just must. Perhaps it’s for that girl you talked to on Bumble… shit, maybe its for that blonde from work or the one with the long braids that waved to you for too long who Ellie had made her arch enemy. Or maybe it was for that fucking ex girl—

“Why would you think I’m posting it… for someone?”

Ellie sighed, and rolled her eyes.

“Cause you look good in it.”

She gulped, and moved a hair strand from her face. it itched, all of a sudden.

“Or like— you look naked or something.”

You rolled your eyes back, and yawned.

“Is that a no?” you questioned.

“No what?” she snickered.

“Is that a no i shouldn’t post?” you removed a microscopic piece of lint that landed on her hoodie, it made her shiver.

She let out a shaky breath, and toyed with the string that hung loose from her black nike socks.

“Why are you askin’ if you’re gonna post it anyways?”

You smirked. For some reason you couldn’t quite put your finger on, sometimes, conversations with her weren’t exactly easy.

“Who said i’ll post? I asked you because I needed your advice”

“Sure” she stated, and slid off the couch.

“Post it” she crossed her arms.

You nodded. post!

You already had one like. Oh, it’s that blonde girl from work. fire emoji, winky face emoji, red heart emoji. Nice!

“M’going to bed” she groaned, and shoved a tiny mushroom in her mouth.

“Ugh. gooey”

You looked up from your phone, and shut it off with a click.

“But you’ll miss the best part!” you pouted.

“Tired” she shrugged. Her face scrunched together. how is she so fucking adorable.

“M’kay… night!”

Ellie dragged her body across the dim lit living-room, and almost slipped on one of her socks.

“Mmmmight” she mumbled.

“Say it nicely!” you yelled across the room, it echoed.

“Good nightttt”

The door slammed shut. Ellie sat down on the bed, and stared at the wall. She cracked her knuckles, one by one, and threw her head back on the mattress, wrapped up by green flannel sheets. Her head landed on the pillow with a soft thud, and she took a long, deep breath. She wasn’t even tired, why did she lie?

That image just took over her brain again. She had only glimpsed it briefly, not truly absorbing its details, before reluctantly handing the device back to you. If she stared any longer— her cheeks would burn a bright pink.

The screen of her Android glowed in the darkness, so she grabbed it. Always on silent mode.

A message from Joel; “Got Maria to iron some of your clothes. remember Janet from across the street? She passed away last week, LOL (lots of love).”

Ellie scratched her eyes, chuckled, and took a screenshot. no fucking way.

A message from Dina; “can u send me some lives on candy crush?”

Followed by another one;

“send them right now or die”

So she scrolled some more.

Instagram; “dinawoodward, jessethekinggglol, courtneycameron and others liked this post!”

She tapped, and thats when her eyes popped out of her head. she suddenly felt parched. She looked around the room— that water-bottle she kept from two weeks ago after a trip to the local bodega must be around there somewhere.

It was not, so there you stood, almost half-naked, a playful smile gracing your lips, the sun-kissed sand partially covering your stomach, and the gentle touch of saltwater caressing your chest. A pair of brown sunglasses adorned your face, with the serene sea standing still in the background.

Ellie blinked once. And then once more, and then she zoomed in.

Her face twitched, and her breath hitched inside her throat. It felt as though her breath had been captured and confined, held hostage within her, struggling to find its release.

She double tapped, and began typing;

“If I could, I’d fuck the shit out of you”

She stared at her keyboard, and breathed deeply. What would happen if she, actually pressed send. Would you come barging inside her room and throw something at her? the green colored vase, maybe? or would you delete her comment, pretend it never happened and move on? perhaps you’d think she was just fucking around, and scold her for typing something like that where everyone could see. “You’re such a creep, el!” she could almost hear you say it. And she could almost feel the way your palm would slam right into her shoulder and nudge it her the side. It made her ears feel warm.

She zoomed in on your tits. Ellie’s face flushed a pretty, dusty pink.

Then, she zoomed in on your stomach, and her nipples perked up inside her hoodie. They grazed the material softly, and she let out a shaky breath.

When she zoomed in on your smile, she smirked at the screen. it made her feel warm and fuzzy and happy and she hated every minute of it. “Never gonna get it” echoed in her ears, a reminder of the "truth" tugged at her heart.

When she zoomed in on your covered cunt, she nearly went cross eyed. She could almost see the outline of your lips— or was she tripping?

Her cunt clenched around absolute nothingness inside her boxers. Was she… getting fucking wet over this?

She gulped, as waves of guilt washed over her. and then, she zoomed in on your tits again, and she felt so turned on she couldn’t even remember what the word guilt even meant.

She heard the echo of your giggle reverberating through the corridor, filling the space with a sound that made her stomach turn. the rhythm of your footsteps grew louder, gradually approaching your room situated just across from hers.

Perhaps you chuckled at something amusing one of your fucking bumble buddies had to say. She lightly bumped her forehead against the screen of her phone, her lips pressed together, forming a thin line.

Your door slammed shut, and a tune began.

“you’re so gorgeous… i cant say anything to your face, cause look at your face…”

How fucking ironic.

“Shut up alexa!” you groaned at the device, causing ellie to stifle a giggle, before she felt the pool flow down her boxers.

The apartment descended into a profound silence, save for the sound of Ellie’s labored breaths echoing in the stillness. she leaned in closer, scrutinizing the image on the screen, alternating between zooming in and zooming out, and crosser her legs together.

When the imagination of your bare tits popped up in her mind, your nipple poking through as you held them together on the screen, it ached inside of her.

Would it really be so wrong if she…?

There was no real harm in it, she thought. It was either this, or close her eyes and rub one off in the darkness, and even then— she had a nagging intuition that you would somehow find your way into her thoughts.

Woudl it really make her that much of a fucking pervert?

Ellie groaned, and brought her knees up to her stomach. Her phone was still in her hand, and that picture teased, and teased, and teased till she couldn’t handle it anymore.

Fuck it. if she did this, she was going to do it right. And she needed to see it close up— and not through her cracked fucking screen she wasn’t bothered fixing for two whole weeks now.

She opened the screen of her laptop, and when she sat on the black leather rolling chair, It felt fucking uncomfortable down there. It was sleek, and she could feel her cunt slide off on the fabric of her boxers.

“Fuuuuck me” she hissed under her breath.

www.instagram.com

Right click.

Your profile, right click. Her hand held a tremor.

You were the focal point, the star of the show, illuminating her old, black HP laptop. The screen, adorned with a thin layer of dust, caught her attention. She leaned in and blew gently, causing the particles to disperse and float away.

She swallowed hard, her throat constricting as she continued to gaze intently. Taking a deep breath, she attempted to steady herself, but the inhalation felt jagged and uneven.

She brought a veiny hand to graze the fabric of her grey colored sweats, just above her clothed cunt, and she felt so fucking relieved.

And it still wouldn’t stop fucking pulsing.

she stared at the bikini, and rubbed her finger up and down slowly, cupped her cunt forcefully, slapped it and whimpered.

“Goddamn” she huffed.

She began tracing big, deliberate circles, her touch slow and steady, causing the fabric of her boxers to cling to her wet cunt.

She had to take them off.

Swiftly, she inserted her thumbs into the edges of her boxers, right at the level of her hipbones, and pulled them down in one fluid motion. The fabric gathered messily around her ankles. She felt so fucking nasty.

Ellie spread her legs, and gasped as the cool air hit her most sensitive place. She waited for a minute, mouth agape, teasing her cunt before she touched it. She swore she could cum with just squeezing in and out while staring at your face.

However, she could not tease herself anymore when those thoughts began forming clearer and clearer.

She brought a long finger and caressed her slit slowly from her hole to her puffy little clit. "Oh fuck yes" she hissed.

It started with thinking about your tits. Her mind wandered, and her hole leaked into the leather chair, forming a small droplet to lay down on it. She breathed heavily.

The thought of you, taking off that bikini top in front of her went through her mind. Slow, deliberate process of undoing its strings, so so agonizingly slow. When they spilled out, ellie let out a high pitched moan.

“Touch them, Ellie” you whispered in her ear.

“Please touch me…” you whined.

She gasped, took two fingers, her middle and her ring, and formed tiny, slow circles on her wet clit. Ellie spread her legs wide, and placed them on the table.

It looked absolutely obscene.

In reality, Ellie was touching herself to a picture on a slightly dusty old screen. In her imagination, you stood pretty begging her for more. Your fucking whines did it for her, and she didn’t even know what they sounded like for real.

You circled your nipples, pinched them and spat a glob of saliva, letting it streamline down your tits, teasing ellie so bad she was already panting. They glistened, and ellie latched on to them, sucking and spitting and whimpering groaning.

“So good Ellie...” you moaned, holding the back of her hand and pushing her deeper.

“I want you so fucking bad”

“Holy fucking shit” she hissed, and slapped her clit. one slap! two slaps! she was desperate.

“Fuuuck yes” she whimpered, and plunged a finger inside her aching hole. It sucked her completely in, clenching around her fingers. She gasped, and slid off the chair.

She was staring at your fucking cunt with her eyes half shut. she swore she could see those fucking lips.

Now, Ellie’s mind took a turn. You laid pretty on her bed, chest heaving up and down, legs spread completely open with a pink vibrator buzzing on your clit.

“Ellie!” you moaned.

“Fuck me... please please please"

She plunged a second finger, and bucked her hips inwards and backwards. She whimpered, and a shaky breath followed by the sound of your name escaped her quivering lips.

“Need you in my pussy… p—pretty please”

She swore she could hear you say it.

Ellie pounced on her bed and savored you whole. she bit your clit, sucked on it and got her entire face wet with your juices.

“God yes” she groaned, wet, squelching sounds filling the room. She pumped them in and out, and in and out again, whilst the other hand was circling itself fast on her needy, pulsating clit. Every few seconds, she’d slap it again, open wider and wider, bucking and riding them so hard she could almost see a supernova right in front of her.

The dull ache in her pussy grew bigger and bigger.

“You need me? fucking whore” she whispered under her breath.

Thin, shiny, sticky drool flowed from the corner of her mouth, it landed on the top of her hoodie.

“Yes Ellie… please Ellie need you in my pussy” She pumped them profusely, feeling your walls take her in like she needed to. When she pumped them inside of herself— That’s what she liked to imagine. It was you, who took her in. They were your walls, your wet cunt begging and screaming for more.

She felt it coming in the pits of her stomach. It grew bigger and bigger, like a wave, or a volcano, threatening to erupt and make her cream all over her chair.

“Ellie yesyesyesyes!” you moaned.

She circled faster and faster, her perky tits bouncing up and down with every movement of her hips. The chair squeaked, but she couldn't be bother to take it slow.

“Ellie?” your voice echoed through the corridor.

“Yeah baby s— say my fucking name, fuck” she hissed, her eyes completely shut.

“Ellie?”

God, it felt so fucking real. Almost there. She bit her lip, and it drew blood.

The door collided with the wall, hitting it with a loud thud.

“Ellie?”

“N— fuNgh”

She almost screamed so loud the gods could hear. she shut her laptop off before even pulling her fingers out.

She was going to fucking faint.

Her face flushed a deep shade of crimson, intense embarrassment radiating from her form, hands trembling uncontrollably, and the expression on her face was one of sheer horror— wide eyed.

She got caught.

"What..." you uttered, your voice trailing off as you stood frozen in place, your mouth agape. Your knees threatened to give way beneath you.

You shut the door.

Ellie, her chest heaving, struggled to catch her breath.

“Oh my—“

“God”

#𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 anon 🎀#ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams x you #the last of us #ellie tlou2 #wlw #ellie williams x female reader

2K notes · View notes

cr-komi · 4 months

Text

"I Need to Know"

Summary: After a daunting sex experience, you're left with the idea that you're bad at sex, but is that really true? Or should you go to someone else to see if they can be honest with you about the truth?

Pairing: Kim Namjoon X Reader (F)

Genre: Smut, fluff (just a little bit at the very end)

Word Count: 6,200+

Warnings: Swearing, angst, oral (m&f receiving), unprotected sex (don't do this, please!), multiple orgasms

Author's Note: I'm back! It was super fun writing the last story so I'm doing it again :) I hope you all enjoy this one just as much as the last. Again, it's not really proofread per say? More like I just skimmed through it to quickly check for mistakes. Anyway, please enjoy and let me know what you think!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Wait, what did he tell you?"

Your best friend, Sana, had been resting lazily on the arm of the couch, quietly listening as you recollected the events of last night: going to a bar, meeting a guy who, unfortunately, was a total walking red flag, although due to your state of intoxication you were too blind to notice, getting into a car with him and going back to his apartment, and totally fucking up by having sex with him.

To your dismay, your memory had been completely clear, up until the moment you slept with him.

"He told me I was a bad lay." You mumbled, head hanging low.

"Jesus, what an asshole," she retorted, maneuvering herself so that she was facing you, insead of the wall she was previously eye-to-eye with, "why do you think he would say something like that?"

"Well, I know why, actually." You responded, eyes still averted towards the plush rug beneath you, "because the morning after we...you know...did it, he asked me if I wanted to be in a relationship, and I said...well, I said no."

Your words echoed in the stillness of the living room, and for a moment, the room seemed to hold its breath. The only sound was the soft ticking of the clock on the wall.

You hesitated, unsure of how to continue. The shame of your confession still lingered heavily in the air, a painful reminder of your poor judgment.

"Okay," Sana said quietly, trying to gauge the severity of the situation. "So he asked you if you wanted to like...date, and you said you rejected him. Then what happened?"

"Well...he got all mad at me. Saying shit like, 'Oh, I only got with you as a joke,' and 'You're nothing more than just a cocksleeve,' then he told me I sucked at sex and kicked me out."

"Don't worry, Y/N, you probably just bruised his ego and that's how he responded. It's nothing to be upset or embarrassed over."

You looked up at her, your eyes welling with tears. "I know, but I can't get those words out of my head. I mean, does he really think I'm bad at sex? Granted, it's not like I'm an expert or anything like that but--"

Sana reached out and gently squeezed your hand. "Sweetie, you're not bad at sex, trust me. He was just...mad but you'll both get over it. Don't let one asshole ruin your self-image."

"I'm trying, but it's kind of hard, you know? Everytime I try to have sex with a guy it lasts two minutes so they can use me to get themselves off, and then they move on to someone else. I just wish I could find someone who would be honest with me about this whole situation, someone who--"

Suddenly, a light switch went off in your head. You did know someone who could truly tell you if you were bad at sex or not. It may not be ideal, but you can only hope he'll say yes.

"I just...I just thought of something." You whispered, a hint of excitement and nervousness in your voice, "I know someone who can help me out. Someone who could... validate my skills in bed."

"Who is it?" Sana asked, equally intrigued and cautious.

You shot up from your seat on the floor, your phone falling out of your lap in the process, causing a loud crash to erupt the silence that had settled between the two of you.

Sana flinched at the sound, but continued her feat to get an answer out of you, "Well? Who the fuck do you know that can help you out?"

"Uh, it's uh...it's a little weird," you stammered, gently grabbing your phone from off the floor and checking for damages, although none were visible. You didn't want to go through with this, but deep down you knew it was the only option you had.

"Come on, Y/N, spill the beans!" Sana prodded, her voice filled with curiosity.

You hesitated for a moment, your face flushed with embarrassment, "I...I can't I promise I will tell you everything later but can you...will you..."

Sana laughed, "You want me to leave?"

"No, it's not that I want you to, it's just--"

Sana slowly got up from her spot on the couch, “Say no more, Y/N, I know you'll give me all of the juicy details later."

Sana smiled and gave you a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder, giving you the space to collect your thoughts.

You took a deep breath and gathered your courage, "Okay. I want you to know that this is... unconventional, but I know it's the only way I can get an honest answer."

"Don't worry, girl, I trust you. Have fun though, and be safe!"

You laughed quietly, "I will."

With a smile on her face, she blew you a kiss before picking up her shoes and gracefully departing. As she closed the door gently, you could hear a soft 'click' resonating in the air.

With a resounding sigh, you ran your hands through your hair, calming your shaking nerves by reminding yourself that you'll get through this. You can't change what happened, but you can take control of what happens next.

With a hint of uncertainty, you muttered to yourself, "Alright, here we go."

You started scrolling through your contacts, nodding as your fingers finally landed on the desired number. Taking a deep breath, you hesitantly pressed the dial button, initiating the call.

After a few rings, he finally picked up.

"Hey, Y/N, I haven't heard from you in a while." His voice was raspy, almost tired in a way, and you wanted nothing more than to simply hang up the phone and live your life with the fact that you're probably bad at sex, but you pushed through.

"Yeah, I know. How are you?" You tried as hard as you could to seem as calm as possible, willing yourself to steady your nervous breathing.

He laughed into the phone, "I'm good, tired, I guess, but that's how things usually are."

You forced a laugh, "Yeah, you're right! Th-that is how things go, that's e-exactly how I'm feeling right now. Life after college isn't easy but I-I'm getting through it and I--" You winced, realizing that you had been prattling on for the past minute about things he probably doesn't care about, "S-sorry, I'm rambling."

You could hear him smile through the phone, "That's okay." He paused for a moment, seemingly thinking about something before continuing, "So, what's up? Did you need something? Or did you just want to check in?"

"Oh, no! I definitely have something to ask you. It's just...kind of hard to say over the phone, can you come over?"

It was dead silent over the line, and you just wanted to crumble into a million pieces. You were so embarrassed. Why did you think this would work? Why did you even think he would say yes to--

"Sure. I'll be over in an hour."

Suddenly, the line went dead, and your mind went numb. Was this really happening? Would he really say yes to this like you hoped he would?

Probably not, but a girl can dream.

Your heart began racing as you realized how close you came to humiliating yourself with your idea. But now, you had a chance to prove yourself and get some real answers.

"I guess I need to get ready." You mumbled, checking the time before scrambling to the shower, ready to shave off every hair on your entire body.

---

The steam enveloped you, a warm cocoon of mist that promised transformation. You stood beneath the cascading water, letting it wash away the remnants of the moments spent waiting for when you could finally see him.

Your fingers combed through your hair, lathering the strands with jasmine-scented shampoo; the fragrance was your favorite, lingering on you like a whispered secret.

"Focus," you murmured to yourself, rinsing the suds from your hair, watching them swirl into the drain. "It's just hanging out, not a life-changing event." But your heart’s fluttering betrayed your casual words.

You reached for the razor, gliding it along your skin with practiced precision, erasing the stubble in smooth strokes. Each movement was methodical, an effort to distract your mind from wandering towards him — his smile, his intellect, his unexpected kindnesses.

"Stop it," you chided yourself, but your lips curved upwards despite the reprimand. "You're just going to jinx it."

After turning off the water, you stepped out onto the plush bath mat, reaching for the towel in an attempt to begin and patting your skin dry. The mirror was fogged over, a ghostly canvas before you. With a sweep of your hand across its surface, your reflection peered back, a mixture of anticipation and vulnerability etched onto your features.

"Okay, Y/N, you can do this. Moisturize, makeup, and then--" Suddenly, a loud bang at the door caused you to jump out of your skin.

Your breath hitched in your throat, and for a moment, you hesitated, wondering if it was simply your imagination playing tricks on you. But the sound echoed in your ears, undeniable and frightening.

"Who could that be?" You thought, pulse quickening. Fear gripped your chest as you flung the towel around your body, clutching it tightly to your still-damp skin.

"Coming!" You called out, voice wavering slightly. You hurried to the door, your bare feet slapping against the cold tiles, leaving wet footprints in your wake. Every step fueled by a sense of urgency, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss.

As you reached the door, you swung it open, revealing the last person you expected to be standing there, despite your phone call from earlier.

Namjoon.

He blinked rapidly, clearly not expecting you to answer the door in such a state.

"Namjoon... What are you doing here? You're early," you stammered, taken aback by his unexpected arrival.

"Uh, yeah," he replied, glancing down at his feet before looking back up at you. "I wanted to come earlier. I just... I don't know, I felt like I needed to see you sooner."

His gaze lingered on you, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight of droplets of water cascading down your body, tracing rivulets over your collarbones and along your arms. It was clear that he hadn't anticipated this turn of events, and his obvious distraction only added to the electric charge in the air between the two of you.

"Are you okay?" You asked, your voice a mixture of concern and embarrassment. You couldn't help but feel exposed under his intense gaze, even with the towel wrapped securely around you.

"Uh, yeah," he said again, finally dragging his eyes back up to yours. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you or anything."

Your heart hammered in your chest as you looked at him, trying to discern his true intentions for coming early. Was it simply impatience that had driven him to your doorstep, or was there something deeper at play?

"Can you give me a moment to get dressed?" you asked softly, feeling the warmth of a blush creeping up your cheeks. "Then we can talk."

"Of course," Namjoon replied, stepping back from the doorway. "Take your time."

"No, no," you continued, slightly stuttering, you can come in, I just need a minute. You can make yourself comfortable on the couch or something if you'd like."

Namjoon nodded, noticing the tremble in your voice. He stepped inside, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before he crossed the room and sat down on the couch. You closed the door behind him and retreated to your bedroom, quickly pulling on a Brandy Melville tank-top and shorts set.

You didn't put on a bra or underwear underneath...just in case.

You emerged a few minutes later, your hair still damp and looking slightly disheveled. Namjoon was still sitting on the couch, his posture relaxed but alert.

"So," he began as you took a seat across from him. "What did you want to ask me?"

Oh, fuck. Here goes nothing.

"Well...I-I was out the other night," you began, voice trembling with nerves, "and, well, me and this guy, well we...I mean he...I mean we met a-at the bar."

Namjoon nodded, listening intently, never taking his eyes off of you.

"So, we went back to his apartment and...well...we, you know, did it."

Namjoon chuckled, feigning innocence, "I think you may have to spell it out for me, Y/N."

"We had sex." You deadpanned, hands shaking slightly, "a-and when I woke up in the morning, I'll spare you the details, but...he told me...h-he told me I-I was a bad...a bad lay."

You could see the disgust and hurt flash across Namjoon's face at the mention of this guy's insensitivity. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and looked at you intently.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N. No one deserves to hear something like that, especially not you."

"Well...thank you but, I didn't just ask you here for your sympathy."

Namjoon's eyebrows raised in curiosity, "Oh? Well then why did you?"

"Because I..."

Just do it Y/N, it's now or never.

"Because you...?" He continued, trying to make you finish your sentence.

"Because I want your opinion."

You averted your gaze towards the ground, too nervous to gauge his reaction.

"My...opinion?" He echoed, clearly confused.

"I want to know if I'm really bad at sex or not. So...I asked you over because I know you'd be honest with me."

"Y/N, what are you asking me to do?"

"I'm asking you to fuck me...?"

You mumbled the last part, almost embarrassed to have spoken it aloud. Namjoon stared at you for a moment, shocked, before finally speaking, "Is this a joke?"

You hesitated, not sure if this was the right move, but you knew you had to be honest with yourself. With a deep breath, you looked up at Namjoon, meeting his eyes with determination.

"No, it's not a joke," you said firmly. "I want to know, from someone I trust, if I'm really bad at sex or not."

"I-I don't know, Y/N. I mean, seriously? We haven't seen each other in over a year and now you're suddenly asking me to fuck you?" He rose from his place on the couch suddenly pacing back and forth in front of you.

"I know it's sudden but...please if you'd just listen--"

"Y/N, stop. This wouldn't work out. Ever. I'm your brother's best friend."

"But Namjoon, is that--"

"I-I have to go," He interrupted, making a beeline towards the door in an attempt to escape the situation, but you couldn't just let him walk away like this.

Frustrated, you rushed towards him, grabbing him as quickly as possible before he could leave.

He paused, refusing to look at you and instead averting his gaze to the hand wrapped around his wrist.

"Please, Namjoon, just hear me out," you pleaded, your voice a desperate whisper. "I know this is sudden, but I need some closure. I need to know if--"

In an unexpected turn of events, you found yourself taken aback as Namjoon suddenly gripped your shoulders, forcefully slamming you against the door behind you.

The intensity of his tightening grip on your shoulders sent an electric jolt through your body, and you felt your heart rate quicken as you looked up into his eyes. They were filled with a mix of confusion, desire, and something you couldn't quite put your finger on.

"You have to understand something, Y/N," He whispered, leaning in so close to your face that you could feel his hot breath fanning against your cheeks, "There's nothing in this world that I want more than to just fuck you senseless, right here, right now, but I need to know how serious you are."

You looked into his eyes, two twin pools of darkness that seemed to be clouded over with lust, "S-serious?" You stammered, "I-I am serious, Namjoon."

Namjoon's eyes pierced into yours, leaving no room for escape from this bold new territory, "Are you sure that this is what you want? You're not afraid of any sort of consequence that might follow?"

"No," you responded, steadying your voice in an attempt to sound confident, "I'm not afraid, Namjoon, I want this. Please."

He looked down for a moment, and you could tell he was battling his inner conscience, deciding on whether he should really fuck his best friend's sister or not.

He released his grip on your shoulders and ran his fingers through his hair, clearly still conflicted.

You could see the desperation and need in his eyes, trying to muster up the courage to do the very thing he knew he shouldn't be doing.

I mean, was this really the right thing to do? What if in the end--

"Fuck it."

He closed the distance between you two, his lips crushing down onto yours in a passionate and hungry kiss. He was taking control of the situation, and he knew exactly what he wanted.

Your hands shot up to his face, your fingers entwining with his hair as you pulled him closer. His hands began to grip your waist, pulling you even closer to his body as he ground his hips into yours.

Your body trembled with anticipation as Namjoon began to trail kisses down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. You felt his breath on the sensitive skin of your throat, sending shivers down your spine.

As his mouth returned to your lips, you could taste the remnants of his hunger and desire. The tension between you seemed to melt away, as you felt your body respond to his every touch. The wetness between your legs grew with every moment that passed, as you pulled him closer to you.

"Namjoon," you breathed out, your voice a whisper that seemed to hang in the air between you. His hands embraced your waist, pulling you even closer, his body flush against your own. You felt his erection against your thigh, a powerful reminder of how much he wanted you right now.

You moaned softly, arching your back in response to the sensation, and Namjoon responded by deepening the kiss, his tongue darting into your mouth to tangle with yours. His hands roamed over your body, cupping your ass and pulling you even closer to him.

Slowly, he began to guide you towards your bedroom, stumbling through the hallway as you went, your legs feeling weak from the desire that was pooling in your lower half. You hit the bed with a soft thud, Namjoon quickly following you down. He hovered over you, his eyes filled with a hunger that you knew you could easily satisfy.

"Are you sure about this, Y/N?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. You nodded, your eyes never leaving his. You were ready, and you knew it.

He wasted no time in removing your top, exposing your pert breasts to his gaze. His eyes widened as he took you in, his breath catching in his throat.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous," he whispered, his fingers brushing over your nipple, causing it to harden even more.

You moaned loudly, writhing in pleasure as Namjoon began to suck on your right nipple, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. His left hand slowly trailed up your stomach, over your chest, and cupped your other breast, squeezing it gently before rolling the nipple between his fingers. He kissed and nipped at the tender flesh, causing you to gasp.

You felt a sudden rush of heat spread throughout your body as he swirled his tongue around the tip, you've never felt anything like this before—his touch is electric, his kisses like tiny explosions on your skin.

You bit your lower lip, trying to contain the moans threatening to escape. You can feel his erection pressing against your thigh, and it only serves to fuel your desire.

"Namjoon," you breathe, voice hoarse, "Please."

He smirked against your skin, "Tell me what you want, baby."

“Wanna feel your mouth on me.”

He pulled away from your nipple, trailing kisses down your stomach while his fingers traced down your side, up your thigh, until he reached the waistband of your pants.

“Take them off, Y/N," he whispered, his voice a raspy plea.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest as you reached down and slid off your shorts, revealing your pussy to him. He groaned, clearly impressed as he took it all in.

“No underwear, huh? I guess you knew this would happen.”

You nodded, “Uh huh– oh, fuck!”

He leaned down and licked your outer lips, causing you to gasp and arch your back in pleasure. You moaned in delight as you felt Namjoon's warm, wet mouth close around your clit, his tongue dancing over your sensitive nub.

Your hips bucked up off the bed involuntarily, seeking more contact as he began to lap at you, sucking softly. The sensation is exquisite, the feeling of his tongue on your sensitive folds sending shivers down your spine.

You gasp as he deepens the pleasure tenfold, his hands gripping your thighs tightly to keep you in place. You run your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer, your head thrown back with a soft whimper.

"Fuck," you pant, your voice barely above a whisper, "that feels so good."

You can feel his hot breath on your pussy, his fingers teasing your entrance as he continues to work your clit with his mouth.

You writhe underneath him, moaning loudly as his tongue flicks over and around your clit, driving you wild. Each time he licks you, you shudder, your body tensing in anticipation of the next stroke. You close your eyes, unable to contain your ecstasy, the pleasure coursing through your veins.

You're lost in the sensation, ignoring everything but how amazing his mouth feels on you. The bed squeaks softly as you rock your hips, meeting each of his movements with your own.

His scent surrounds you, musky and arousing, igniting a fire inside you that burns hotter with every passing moment. His hands squeeze your thighs harder, teases you with his tongue, relentless in his ministrations.

You can feel the heat building inside of you, climaxing ever closer. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you near the edge, throat working to swallow back the moans that threaten to escape, but Namjoon stops you.

"I want to hear you, Y/N."

His words unleash a torrent of emotion in you, and you let out a loud moan as you begin to lose control. Your hands grip his hair, pulling him tighter against your sex as your hips buck wildly.

"I can't hold on," you gasp, your voice barely recognizable.

Namjoon smiles against you, and his fingers begin to move in time with his tongue, probing at your entrance, and you cry out, hips rocking off the bed.

You're close, so close, and you want release more than anything.

With a sudden surge of motion, he adds another finger, pushing it deep inside of you, stretching your walls. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he begins to thrust his hand, filling you up.

Your breath catches in your throat, you arch your back, fingers digging into his shoulders.

The combination of his fingers and tongue on your sensitive flesh is too much to bear, sending you spiraling over the edge. "Namjoon," you whispers, voice thick with desire, "I'm coming--"

Your body tenses, orgasm hitting you like a freight train. A moan rips from your throat as you come hard, hips jerking off the bed.

Your walls grip at his fingers, and your nails dig into his shoulders. You quiver and shake, your whole body shuddering from the force of your release.

"You taste so fucking good, Y/N."

When you finally calm down, you feel the warm stickiness between your legs, the taste of him on your tongue.

Your eyes flutter open to see him smiling at you, his face flushed with pleasure. He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, and you flinch from oversensitivity.

You slowly lift yourself up after coming down from your high, meeting Namjoon's eyes, clouded with desire and want.

You lean forward, reaching for his obvious erection, palming him through his pants.

"Fuck, Y/N," he groans, his voice ragged.

"Take them off," you murmur seductively, your voice dripping with lust. Your eyes never leave his as he unzips the fly of his jeans, slowly pulling them down along with his boxers, freeing his erection. It's hard and thick, and you can't help but stare at it, your heart pounding in your chest in anticipation.

Your hands shake slightly as you reach out, wrapping your fingers around the base of his shaft, feeling how hot and hard he is. You stroke him slowly, watching his reactions, the way his eyes flutter shut and his lips part slightly. You can see the desire in his eyes, and you know that he wants you just as much as you want him.

You lean in close, brushing your lips against the head of his cock, teasing him with the promise of what's to come. He lets out a low groan as you trail soft kisses down his length

His shaft, before finally taking him deep into your mouth. You suck on him gently, using your tongue to tease and play with his sensitive head. Namjoon groans, his hands threading through your hair as you pleasure him, your lips slowly moving up and down his shaft.

His hips buck, trying to thrust into your mouth, and you let him, gagging slightly but continuing to take him deeper and deeper until his entire length is inside of you. You moan around him, enjoying the taste and feel of him, the warmth and the power you have over him.

"H-holy shit, Y/N. Fuck that feels so--fuck."

You pull back, sucking hard on the head one last time before releasing him. You look up at Namjoon, who is looking down at you with an expression of pure desire.

His hands find their way into your hair, tangling in the silken locks as he struggles to maintain control. He moans your name, encouraging you to continue, his eyes closing tightly as he loses himself in the sensation. The sound of slurping and smacking fill the air as you bob your head up and down, your mouth working him almost mechanically.

He can feel the bed dipping slightly with every thrust of your head, your bodies moving in sync. The scent of arousal fills the room, and Namjoon knows he's close to the edge. He begins to pant, his breath coming faster as he nears his climax.

Sighing he grabs your hair tighter, pulling you off his dick and forcing you to look up at him, "Enough, I don't want to come before I'm inside of you."

Namjoon lets go of your makeshift ponytail, and reluctantly, you pull away, sitting on your haunches before him, waiting to see what he does next.

He roughly tugs his jeans the rest of the way down his legs, and you fiddle with the hem of his shirt, silently pleading with him to remove it so that he can be bare in front of you.

He obliges, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. His rippling muscles and toned abs are revealed, sending a shiver down your spine.

Namjoon's sculpted body was, in his words, "a testament to the hours of dedication he committed to both his physical and mental well-being." His broad shoulders tapered downward into a lean, chiseled torso that showcased his defined pectoral muscles. The light caught the edges of his rippling abs, seemingly amplifying their strength. His arms, strong and toned, were equally impressive - a result of countless hours spent lifting weights and perfecting his form.

You stare at him in awe and reach out, wanting to feel his body against yours. You pull him down onto the bed, your hands exploring every inch of him as you kiss him passionately. His hands run through your hair, gently pulling it back as he takes your lips in a deep, passionate kiss.

His body presses against you, your breasts flattening against his chest as he deepens the kiss. You can feel his cock, hard and pulsating, pushing against your thigh.

Your hands explore his back, feeling the muscles ripple beneath your touch. He lifts himself up, breaking the kiss, and you feel his weight shift as he positions himself between your legs.

He stares at you for a moment with questioning eyes, "Ready?"

You nod eagerly, breath hitched in anticipation. Namjoon slowly pushes himself inside you, your walls tightening around him as he fills you completely. You gasp, arching your back as your body adjusts to his girth.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groans, his eyes locked on yours.

He begins to move, thrusting slowly at first, but gaining momentum as he finds your rhythm. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside you.

"Shit, Namjoon!" You cry out, your voice a mix of pleasure and pain as he hits just the right spot. His movements become more urgent, and you can feel his cock hitting your G-spot with each thrust.

"F-fuck Y/N. You’re so tight babe." He growls, his hips pounding into you.

You whimper, your body trembling from the sensation of his dick filling you up and stretching you out.

You're so close, so close to coming undo--

Suddenly, Namjoon pulls out of you, and you whine at the empty feeling, looking up at him with pleading eyes, "Namjoon, what are you--"

"Turn around," He interrupts, grabbing your hips, "ass up."

You blush at his words, but your arousal only deepens as he helps you turn around, and he positions himself behind you.

He rubs the head of his dick against your entrance, teasing you and making you crave him even more. You moan softly, reaching down to guide him inside you.

With a swift, powerful thrust, Namjoon slams into you, filling you completely as the bed creaks beneath the two of you. You cry out, your hands flying to your mouth to stifle the sound, but your voice gives out and you let out a yelp.

Your heart races as Namjoon's hips slam into you, feeling the thick length of his cock hitting your sweet spot with each hard thrust.

You moan loudly, a hand clutching onto the sheets underneath you and the other running through your hair.

The headboard hits the wall with a loud thud as Namjoon forces himself deeper inside of you, causing you to cry out in pleasure. Your body trembles under the onslaught of sensations - the feeling of being here, the pleasure spreading through you, the sound of your skin slapping together.

"Damn, you have such a nice ass," Namjoon pants, his breaths coming in short gasps as he smacks the supple skin before running his hand back over the spot he marked to soothe it.

You whimper in response, it only serves to intensify the experience for you, the sting combining with the delight of being taken so roughly.

You thrust your hips back towards Namjoon, meeting his movements with equal force, his cock leaking pre-cum onto the floor.

"And these tits," He growls, leaning forward to cup your left breast, rolling the nipple through his fingers, causing you to moan loudly without restraint, body trembling with anticipation.

Namjoon growls low in his throat, his free hand finding its way to your puffy clit, rubbing it gently as he thrusts into you.

"Oh god, Namjoon!" It's almost too much for you to handle - the dual sensations are driving you wild.

You feel yourself getting closer to the edge, but you don't want it to end yet, not when Namjoon is treating you like this.

With a groan, Namjoon pulls out almost completely, only to slam back in with more force than before. Your fingers dig into the mattress beneath you, breath hitching as your walls tighten around him, "Fuck, Namjoon, I'm so close!"

"Yeah? You gonna come again, baby?"

"Yes, Namjoon, please!"

Namjoon smiles wickedly, increasing his pace as he feels your desire growing. He grabs the back of your hips, pulling you harder against him as he thrusts deeper inside you. His thrusts are rough and unrelenting, his hips pounding into you with each powerful impact.

You can feel the dampness between your legs, the juice from your arousal seeping down your thighs and onto the bed. The sound of your breaths and his grunts fill the room as the tension builds. Your nails dig into the mattress, leaving small indentations as you cling to the fabric for dear life.

His hands roam over your body, caressing your skin and heightening your sensitivity. He tweaks your nipples, causing you to cry out with pleasure and pain. His fingers explore your inner thighs, trailing along your sensitive skin, making you tremble with desire.

"Oh, shit," Namjoon groans, his eyes rolling back into his head as he feels his own orgasm beginning to build.

With a final burst of energy, you push back against him, meeting his every thrust as he pounds into you, his cock rubbing against your G-spot with each strong movement.

"Fuck, Namjoon!" You cry out, your body trembling uncontrollably as you feel your climax beginning to take hold.

"Shit, Y/N, I'm so close," Namjoon growls, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he fights to hold back his orgasm.

Your walls tighten around him once more, pulling him deeper inside you as you scream out in pleasure, your body writhing beneath him as you feel the waves of your release crash over you. Your walls tighten and release around Namjoon's pulsating cock, causing him to groan in pleasure.

His own release is becoming too much to hold back, and with a final, powerful thrust, he buries himself deep inside you as he lets out a loud groan. Your name on his lips as he cries out in pleasure, "Holy shit, Y/N!"

His hips stutter, body trembling as his orgasm overtakes him. You can feel his warm, fluid spilling inside of you, filling you completely. The sensation is unlike anything you've ever experienced before - it's intense, it's overwhelming, and you love every second of it.

He holds you tightly against him, his breath hot against the back of your neck, as he slowly starts to regain his composure. His heart is pounding against your back erratically.

You slowly open your eyes and look back at him, a content smile gracing your lips. "That was incredible, Namjoon," you breathe, your voice soft and sultry.

He kisses your neck, his lips leaving a trail of warmth as he moves down your shoulder. "I think I agree," he murmurs, his voice already starting to calm down.

You both lay panting, your bodies entwined, the sweat glistening on your skin, the scent of passion filling the room. He pulls out of you, his cock wet and sticky from your connection. He pulls his hips away from you and collapses next to you on the bed, both of you trying to regain your breath.

The seconds pass into minutes, and you both lay there in content silence, your bodies entwined, the remnants of your encounter still lingering between you.

Namjoon's fingers trace lazy patterns on your back, his touch gentle and soothing. He leans in close to your ear, whispering, "Let me clean you up."

"Mmm, okay," you reply, your voice still thick with lust.

He gets off the bed and grabs a warm cloth from the bathroom, bringing it back to you.

Slowly, he turns you over, and you lay on your back, your legs spread wide, his body hovering above you. He takes the cloth and smiles, gently dabbing at your sensitive folds, cleaning away the remnants of your sexual encounter.

You moan softly, your body still quivering from the intensity of your orgasms. His touch is soothing, yet it sends shivers of desire through you. He continues to clean you, his fingers exploring your delicate folds as he does so.

Once he's finished, he places the cloth on the nightstand and lies down beside you, his arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you close.

His fingers trace the curve of your hip, massaging gently as you both lay there, catching your breath and basking in the afterglow of what the two of you have just done.

The room is filled with the sound of your heartbeats, in sync and pounding in rhythm with each other. You feel safe and secure in Namjoon's arms, and you turn to face him, a gentle look etched into your features, "So, what did you think...?"

He softly strokes your hair, "About what?"

"Well...am I a bad lay...?" You mumble the last part and he smiles, cupping your cheek in his hand.

"No, absolutely not. You were...perfect. He was probably just upset that you rejected him and that's how he reacted."

You snuggle closer, feeling his heartbeat syncing with yours,"I'm glad you're here with me," you whisper.

Namjoon nods, "Me too."

You smile, feeling his warmth enveloping you.

The tentative silence is broken by Namjoon's voice as he speaks, "Do you want me to stay the night?"

You think for a moment, "Yes, please."

"I'll be right back," he says as he gets off the bed, returning a moment later with a clean sheet and blanket. He carefully covers the two of you with the cozy layers, your bodies pressed closely together.

"Sleep well, Y/N." He whispers.

"Sleep well."

As the night progresses, you both drift off to sleep, the dim light from the moonlight streaming through the window casting soft shadows on the wall. The scent of sex lingers in the air, a heady reminder of the passion that had just passed between the two of you. You are lulled into a peaceful slumber, your hearts beating in harmony with each other's rhythm.

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babydollmarauders · 4 months

Text

IN A BOX — TREVOR ZEGRAS AND JAMIE DRYSDALE

trevor zegras x fem!reader x jamie drysdale

12 DAYS OF KINKMAS

summary: in which Trevor and Jamie do the ‘dick in a box’ joke to their fuck buddy, leading to a threesome

warnings: NSFW CONTENT, threesome, oral (f and m receiving), p in v (unprotected), degradation. (2.7k words)

notes: welcome to day 9 of the 12 days of kinkmas! this is the first threesome i’ve ever written, and it features everyone’s favorite dynamic duck duo! this starts out jokey and it makes me laugh ngl.

i’ve never claimed i was smart.

if i were smart, i probably wouldn’t have started sleeping with two of my best friends.

i probably wouldn’t have agreed to their friends-with-benefits arrangement.

and i most certainly, wouldn’t have had my expectations so high when they claimed they had christmas gifts for me.

yet, here i am. sat on Trevor and Jamie’s couch for the past fifteen minutes, a rapidly cooling peppermint hot cocoa clutched in my hands, and a sneaking suspicion that they do not, in fact, have christmas gifts for me.

“guys, are you coming?” i shout in the direction of the stairs, my voice bouncing off the walls of the house.

i can hear Trevor’s wheezy laugh carry down the steps. a mischievous lilt hidden in.

“we will be soon!” he calls back and i huff, slumping further into the couch cushions.

my flight back home for the holidays is tomorrow, the 23rd, and the boys had claimed they have presents they want to give me before i leave. i arrived armed with gifts for each of them, and after they opened them, they had stated they just had to grab my presents from their rooms; but i’m beginning to think they’ve lied to me.

“okay, close your eyes!” i sigh out a ‘finally!’ at the sound of Jamie’s words, squeezing my eyes shut.

“are they closed?” Trevor snickers, sounding closer now.

“yes, Trevor! they’re closed!” i snap, covering my eyes for good measure.

i can hear their footsteps get closer, padding down the stairs and into the living room, before Jamie tells me i can open my eyes.

i’m immediately confused by the sight in front of me, bewildered at the two men clad only in flannel pajama pants. both hold a gift box in front of them, wide smiles on their faces.

“why are you shirtless?” i giggle, my brows threading together as they stand side by side in front of me.

“just open your gifts!” Jamie urges.

“we’ll hold them! you open them!” Trevor tells me. “at the same time! gotta open them at the same time! or else the other present will be spoiled.”

i raise an eyebrow at the hyper hockey player, but he just notions with his head for me to hurry up.

i set my hot cocoa to the side, the mug clanking against the top of the wooden side table beside the couch. i glare at them suspiciously as i scooch to the edge of the couch.

reaching forward with both hands, i pull the tops from the christmas paper lined boxes, only to find what i least expected. there, poking through holes cut in the sides of the boxes, were Trevor and Jamie’s dicks. both already hard, so i’m drawn to assume that’s what they were doing upstairs.

“oh my god!” i peer up at the boys with amusement, a wide, humorous smile on my face. “you guys did not just do the dick in a box gift gag to me.”

“what do you mean ‘gag’?” Trevor jokes, “these are your gifts.”

the hockey players stare down at me, and it’s only then that i clock the lust in their eyes, obviously determined to finish what they started by themselves in their rooms.

my tongue flicks across my bottom lip, wetness pooling in my panties at the thought of a threesome.

sure, i’ve slept with the both of them; but its always been at separate times. never together, despite my persistence to them that i would love to do it.

“well, i guess i should have some fun with my gifts then, right?” Trevor and Jamie smirk at my words, removing themselves from the boxes and leaving themselves untucked from their bottoms.

i let the gift box lids tumble to the floor, reaching both hands forward, to grasp one of them in each hand. i tug, my eyes flitting between them to gauge their reactions.

while Trevor bites his lip, letting out a muffled moan, Jamie’s head tilts back, his jaw going slack.

i continue my movements, slowly jerking the both of them off. getting more and more aroused by the sounds they let out, echoing throughout the downstairs of the house. and when i abruptly stop, both men’s eyes pop open, staring down at me.

“well, you can’t expect me to have fun like this, can you?” i tease them, my tone sultry and low, and just to show them exactly what i mean, i pull my sweater over my head; leaving me in nothing but my skirt and bra.

the two men make quick work of joining me on the couch, sitting on either side of me. Trevor’s hand grazes my neck as he pushes my hair off my shoulder, his head dipping down to attach his lips to my collarbone, suckling and leaving wet kisses up the column of my throat. whereas Jamie takes it upon himself to press his lips to mine. what starts out as lust driven and rushed, quickly turns into passion and need. the defenseman’s tongue runs over the seam of my lips, gaining entry when i part them and pushing his tongue against mine.

Trevor’s hand rests high up on my thigh, slowly inching his way up under my skirt, and it doesn’t take long for him to get even bolder; his fingers finding my clit through my soaked lace panties. his middle finger presses, rubbing me in circular motions, and a high pitched moan escapes my lips, muffled by Jamie’s.

as though coordinated, both men pull away from me, Jamie’s lips puffy and swollen. the tip of Trevor’s nose drags up my throat slowly, until he reaches my ear, his finger halting in its movements.

“you want this?” Jamie asks me, smirking as i nod my head and let out a choked whimper.

“then we need you to be a good girl and strip for us.” Trevor whispers in my ear, pairing his utterance with a roll of my earlobe between his lips.

he pulls away, both pairs of eyes settling on me as i rise from my seat. i unzip my skirt, letting it pool to the floor into a puddle of fabric at my feet, and they suck in a breath at the sight of my matching red lacy set.

“someone knew she was gonna get fucked today.”

i nod at Jamie’s words, bottom lip caught between my teeth as i unclip my bra, pushing the straps off my shoulders and allowing it to drop down to the floor. my nipples are stiff and peaked, the cold air doing nothing to help.

“i didn’t know i would get both of you today though.” i confess, a boost of confidence surging through me as the hockey players ogle my breasts.

“keep going, baby.” Trevor all but groans, watching intently as i begin to drag my panties down my legs, stepping out of them and leaving myself bare for them.

“i hardly think this is fair.” i huff, feigning a pout. “you guys still have your pants on and i’m here all naked for you.”

Jamie hops up from the couch, tugging his flannel pants from his legs, while Trevor merely lifts his hips and takes his off while sitting. both men look at me, seeking reassurance, and i nod.

“much better.”

Trevor grins, leaning forward to grip my by the waist and pulling me back onto the couch. he pushes me flat down, sprawling me out on the sofa, and guides my leg to hook over the back of the couch, leaving me open and vulnerable to his gaze.

my eyes flick to find Jamie, but rather than standing in the spot he once was, he now sits in the chair beside the couch. his hand grips around the base of his cock, squeezing gently to tease himself as he watches Trevor and i.

“let’s see if you taste as good as your cocoa.” Trevor smirks. i roll my eyes at the joke, laughing at his cheesy remark, but my giggles get caught in my throat when he bends down, licking a stripe up my core.

“fuck, Trevor.” i cry out, one hand flying to his head and burying itself in his fluffy dirty blonde hair, as the other fists the couch cushion beside my head.

Trevor chuckles lowly, repositioning himself before diving in like a man starved. his tongue laps at my arousal, my eyes squeezing shut at the feeling, and i can hear Jamie groan from his place near my head.

licking up, Trevor flicks his tongue against my clit, his hands holding my thighs apart to keep me from squeezing them around his head. his lips close around the nub of nerves, sucking it and rolling it between his lips, and i give a tug to his hair, a moan bubbling up my throat as my hips buck against him.

“yes! please, don’t stop!” i whimper, but rather than listen to my words, he chooses to release my clit, letting his tongue drag back down to my entrance.

continuing his assault against my cunt, Trevor brings his thumb to my clit, providing just enough pressure as he begins to rub.

my eyes roll back in my head, my back arching, and i can feel the pressure in my stomach growing; getting stronger and stronger the longer he continues.

“make her come, Z.” Jamie pipes up, “i wanna watch her let go.”

Trevor hums in agreement, the vibrations traveling from his tongue to my pussy. and with just a few more rubs of his thumb, and flicks of his tongue, my breath catches in my throat, my lack of oxygen quickly making me woozy and aiding in tipping me over the edge. i heave out a breath, mingled with a high pitched cry as my vision turns white, my legs shaking as i release on his tongue.

he doesn’t ease up, lapping at my wetness even after i come down from my climax. it’s only when i whine, pushing his head away, that he finally backs away, pushing himself up.

“i’d say she’s ready to be properly fucked, wouldn’t you Jimmy?” Trevor chuckles, staring down at me as i pant to catch my breath.

“yeah, i think i must agree, Trev.” Jamie sidles up to the couch, joining his best friend in watching me in my fucked out bliss. “i think she can take another one, don’t you?”

“i know she can.” Trevor confirms. taking ahold of my hands, Trevor helps me up, motioning for me to spin around. once i do so, Jamie nudges my back, forcing me onto all fours before he kneels behind me.

“can’t wait to have those pretty lips wrapped around my cock.” Trevor mutters, his thumb running along my bottom lip. “you think you can handle me fucking your face?”

i peer up at him through my lashes, working hard to focus my vision, as i can feel Jamie running his tip through my wetness. nodding my head, Trevor smiles down at me darkly.

“yeah, i know you can.”

gripping his cock, Trevor pushes the tip against my lips, urging me to open up for him, and i happily do so, relaxing my throat as he pushes in. it’s in this moment that Jamie thrusts in to the hilt, bottoming out inside of me, and i choke, my eyes rolling back as i adjust to the fullness.

“fuck, you feel like heaven.” Jamie grunts, pulling all the way out before he intrudes me once more, setting a quick pace. “so fucking tight, i could fuck you all day.”

i clench around him in acknowledgement, a groan falling from his lips at the feeling.

i can barely hear his grunt over the sounds of my gagging as Trevor thrusts into my face, his hands gripping the side of my head as he guides me. pulling out, i’m given a little reprieve, sucking in a deep breath as Trevor slaps my cheek with his cock, drool and pre-cum dripping down my chin.

“you’ve been wanting this for so long, haven’t you?” the forward mocks me, slipping himself back past my lips as i whine.

“you just wanna be filled, don’t you?” Jamie chimes in, “fucked thoroughly.”

i can’t respond, but i have the suspicion that’s how they want it, both laughing as i focus purely on pleasure.

i can feel myself sucking Jamie in every time he thrusts, my walls closing around him in effort to keep him there. his tip drags against my g-spot every time his hips snap, and i can feel the pressure in my stomach building itself back up. tying into knots as he quickens his pace.

his skin slaps against mine, and his hand spreads across my back, pushing down to get me to arch it, and i follow his lead. the new angle makes my toes curl, but i can’t focus too hard on it because i can feel Trevor’s dick begin to throb.

Trevor’s head tips back, a loud moan escaping him as he pulls back again, letting me breathe through my mouth for a moment rather than my nose, before he pushes my head back down.

“shit! i’m gonna come!” Trevor breathes out, and i relax my throat, hollowing out my cheeks as he pushes me until my nose makes contact with his abdomen, holding me there as his abs flex. his cock twitches just before he sighs, ropes of cums spurting in my mouth and down my throat.

pulling out of my mouth, he gazes back down at me.

“show it to me.” i open my mouth, allowing him to see his release, and he grips my cheeks, pulling my head up. drawing his head back, he spits, some making it into my mouth while rest splatters on my cheek. “now swallow.”

his hand slides down to my throat, feeling the muscles work as i gulp, swallowing it down.

“good girl.”

with Trevor finished, Jamie takes this as his time to alter our position. shooing away his teammates hand, Jamie replaces Trevor’s grip on my throat with his own, pulling me up until my back is flat against his chest.

his hips buck, fucking himself up into me at a hard and fast pace, making my legs shake. his other hand finds my pearl, rubbing as he thrusts.

“that’s it. take this dick like a good girl.” Jamie whispers, his lips ghosting the shell of my ear, and it’s the combination of those words and his fingers circling my clit, that set me off, clenching around him as i reach my orgasm.

tears roll down my cheeks at the pleasure, my breath hitching once more as i come on his cock.

“fuck, squeezing me so tight, i’m gonna come.” Jack curses, making me clench around him again, spurring on his own release. he continues fucking me through our orgasms, causing chills to run down my spine.

releasing his hold on me, i flop down onto my back on the couch, catching my breath as the boys on either side of the couch do the same.

it’s silent in the room, nothing but the sound of heavy breathing, until Jamie speaks up.

“so remind me, why have we never done this before?”

Trevor and i let out shallow laughter, the defenseman joining us when he finally caught his breath.

“so…” i trail off, gaining the attention of both boys.

“you can use my shower.” Trevor tells me, and i nod. but when i make no move to get up, they both furrow their brows at me.

“give a girl a second!” i huff, “i think my legs are jello.”

at my words, both hockey players smirk, Trevor lifting his hand in the air for Jamie to fist bump.

once we’ve all three recovered, taken quick showers, and Jamie has remade my now long having gone cold cocoa; we rejoin on the couch, a blanket draped over the trio of us.

“what do we wanna watch?” Trevor questions, the remote clutched in his hand.

“a christmas movie.” i state, as though it’s obvious.

“Elf?” Jamie suggests, and i nod, Trevor already finding it on a streaming service.

about 20 minutes into the movie, i curl my legs up, cuddling into Jamie’s shoulder while Trevor’s hand grips my foot in a calming manner.

they both glance over at me, but upon seeing my still open eyes, immediately look back at the tv. Jamie repositions us, his arm now around me while my head lays on his chest, and despite my hardest attempts, my eyes flutter shut not long later. my breathing evening out as i fall asleep.

#faithlynn’s 12 days of kinkmas #trevor zegras #trevor zegras x reader #jamie drysdale #jamie drysdale x reader #trevor zegras imagine #jamie drysdale imagine #trevor zegras fic #jamie drysdale fic #trevor zegras blurb #jamie drysdale blurb #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl smut #anaheim ducks #faithlynn’s writings <3

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clockwayswrites · 9 months

Text

I totally didn't write this with a fever.

wc: 815, Masterpost, Shopping Montage

“What do you think, parrots and way too many leaves or palm trees and waves?” Danny said, holding the two horrifically patterned Hawaiian shirts up in front of him.

They were standing in one of Crime Alley’s better thrift stores. While Danny had agreed to let Jason buy him some clothing, he had insisted it be at thrift stores. He wasn’t ‘going to let Jason spend that much money on clothing’, he claimed.

Jason figured that meant that Danny hadn’t clocked who he was yet.

Danny waggled the offensive shirts again.

“Tuesday…”

“Ah, I see, clearly it is option number three then,” Danny said somberly before dramatically pulling out a third shirt behind the other two and, “unicorns, rainbows, and hibiscus!”

It was eye searingly bright— like a pack of highlighters had thrown up on it— and clearly whoever had designed it had never seen an ungulate, rainbow, or hibiscus flower in their lives.

“No. No, you are not getting that because I am buying it for my fashion disaster of a brother. He’ll love it.”

“Really?” Danny asked, nose wrinkling adorably as he looked down at the shirt in his hand.

“Trust me, if you knew him, you wouldn’t be doubting it.” Besides, it stopped Danny from getting it even as a joke.

“Huh. Sounds like some brother.”

“That’s an understatement,” Jason said, taking the unicorn shirt and hanging the other two up. “Why don’t we start with pants. Three pairs at least.”

Danny scrambled after Jason. “Three pairs? That means I’d have four if the blood comes out.”

“It will come out.”

“Then that’s four! And that’s way too many.”

“One pair for every two days and a back up pair if you don’t get laundry done or lose another pair to a rogue attack,” Jason explained, finding the jean section. “What size are you and what type do you like. Baggy, boot cut, skinny?”

Danny stared down at the tables of jeans, looking more than a little lost. “Um, blue? Blue is good?”

“Disaster, Tuesday,” Jason said. He sized Danny up before picking out a half dozen jeans and shoving them at the other. “Try these on.”

“Jason, I really don’t—”

“Tuesday, I’m getting you three pairs of jeans. You might as well at least make sure they’re comfortable. Go try on the pants. If these don’t work, we’ve got others to try.”

“I, um, okay,” Danny said with a little nod and disappeared into the fitting booth.

As Jason grabbed another few pairs of pants, he had to wonder when the last time that Danny actually went shopping was from how he was reacting. Having to try on the jeans to make sure they fit was pretty basic. Hoping to make sure Danny really had enough clothing, Jason grabbed a few shirts to add to the pile. Mostly he stuck with basics, but he tossed in a few shirts that seemed nerdy in a way that an engineer might like. He pushed the pile under the edge of the fitting room curtain with his foot.

“What— I don’t—”

“Just be good and try on the shirts,” Jason ordered, as gently as he could, then he leaned against the wall opposite of the little line of changing booths to wait.

The sound of the curtain pulling open had Jason looking up from his phone. Danny stood just inside the booth, tugging down at the hem of the dark red henley where it set over the navy skinny cut jeans.

Danny shifted on socked feet. (Jason made note of the holes in the toes.) “I don’t know if…”

“Gives me a spin, Tuesday,” Jason said, tucking his phone in his pocket. “You act like you’ve never gone clothes shopping before.”

“Been a good few years,” Danny drawled, but spun as he was told. The pants did surprising favors for Danny’s ass for being thrift store pants.

“Never had that sudden growth spurt?” Jason teased.

Danny huffed. “I’m a short king.”

“Well, your Majesty, put both those in the yes pile and go try on some more.” Jason shooed Danny back into the booth with a wave. “When you’re done, we’ll grab you a pack of socks and boxers from the Dollar Tree next door— no arguing— and then I’ll show you the best diner in Crime Alley.”

“Am I going to have to let you pay there too?”

“Yep, so be a good figure head of a dated governmental system and hush.”

“Or it will be the guillotine for me?” The question was muffled as Danny changed.

“You’re too pretty to lose your head,” Jason said. “It would be the dungeons with you.”

Danny cleared his throat after a pause. “Don’t tempt me with a good time.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Jason said with a chuckle and a determination to ignore that mental picture. “Now come on, show me the next outfit.”

-----

AN: And Dick wore that unicorn shirt far, far too often.

Hopefully it's coherent despite me being sick. The start of this came to me as I was trying to sleep with a 102ish fever so who am I to deny it?

Stay delightful (and hydrated) darlings!

I no longer tag for various reasons, but you can subscribe to be notified at the masterpost. (Queued this post so I'll update the masterpost when I wake)

#dp x dc #dead on main #the fic that i'm not writing #danny fenton/jason todd

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yunietunie · 7 months

Text

Silent Treatment

(nsfw)

a/n: i had a lot of fun writing this one. It was one of my older ones.

The days are long, the days are hard. A softer side from Simon switched to a rougher one when silent treatment was given.

f!reader, smut, MDNI, 18+, boyfriend!simon, pnv, unprotected!sex, established relationship.

Simon. The man was too enveloped in his work. It concerned you, yes, but it was his job after all. Sure you two were in the same unit but because of him and his work, it left you hardly any time together. If there was time, it’d be talking about something that frustrated either of you because of work.

“Si, you said you had the day off today.” You said to him sternly as he arrived home late once again. His eyes shifted to the clock on the wall in your shared apartment living room.

“It’s 2 am, why are you still awake? Don't you have an early shift?” Simon would ask as he tossed his bag to the floor before beginning to take off his boots. You rolled your eyes as he avoided your comment. You were sat down on the couch with the TV playing one of your shows. You turned your gaze towards it, avoiding his question in return, a slight huff.

An audible groan was given from him as he got up from the foot bench and headed towards the couch where you sat comfortably in your pout.

“Look, I'm sorry. I was asked to come in and you know how old man is.” The Brit said as he sat down next to you, attempting to grab your attention. You weren’t giving it to him. You remained drained of any conversation as you sat there, angrily.

“Silent treatment, huh?” Simon would say as he raised an eyebrow after taking off his infamous mask. He’d prefer it off around you, separating your time with him and work, the way he liked it. The way you liked it. He Kept staring at you from across the couch as your irises were still on the screen, ignoring him.

His jaw tensed. He hated the silent treatment, he hated that more than anything, especially after a long day of work. He moved over next to you on the couch, his hand resting on your upper thigh as his gaze still refused to look away from you. He was giving you a warning to speak up, to say something, however you decided your tantrum needed to sizzle out. Nothing but the TV making noise throughout the room.

“Fine.” He grunted and his hand lifted from your thigh. He then turned off the TV which made your head whip over to him. Finally he had himself in your attention. In one swoop, he picked you up bridal style from the couch, turned off the living room lights and headed towards your shared bedroom.

An expression of bewilderment falling on your drowsy face before he placed you on the bed then put himself next to you. Hugging your body, making sure to keep you in place.

“I'm sorry. We can have tomorrow off.” He grumbled as he took in the scent of your hair, burrowing his nose into the back of your neck. You heaved an exhausted sigh to his sweet gesture. That was new.

“I have work tomorrow.” You reluctantly replied back to him. His arms wrapped around your waist as he spooned you from behind. He gave a huff to that comment, furrowing his brows.

“Tell them you’re sick.” He replied as his mouth found its way to your neck where he gave hot kisses.

“Si, I can’t just call out.” You replied once more, attempting to fight his kisses and touches.

“I'm your superior. And if Price has a problem with it, then oh well.” Simon purred in between kisses as his arms tightened around you, holding you as closely as possible. He was frustrated with the silent treatment in the beginning, now your resistance was adding more to it. He let it go, for now at least. Then, that’s when you felt it.

“Si, you’re poking me.” You said as you tried to turn your body towards him, but he refused to let you turn around. He didn’t stop placing small kisses on your neck, occasionally giving you some hickies to parade around. Simon’s hands slipped under your pajama shirt, gliding just over your chest. Making your body jolt instantly and the breath in your throat hitch. A pressure building in your lower stomach.

“Shhhhh.” He said in your ear before giving it a light nibble then moved back down to your neck. He was being touchy all of a sudden. Was it because of work? Something must’ve frustrated him. His hands roaming under your shirt, his hot lips on your sensitive neck and his cock poking you from behind.

His fingers found themselves on top of your already hard nipples. He pinched them just enough for your body to jolt again. Something he always loved, how all of his touches make your body have a reaction.

“Such good tits.” He said in an airy whisper in your ear again, making the knot in your lower stomach turn into a throbbing sensation. His hands leave them and brush the skin down to your waist, then your hips, and land on the outside of your thighs. He rubs the material of your shorts slightly. Building tension, being gentle, taking his time to touch and feel you with his textured hands.

“I’ve missed you. God, I missed touching you.” He added with a weary sigh. It was true, because of work you two had no time to do anything together. It was very nice. At least that's what the throbbing mess of a cunt you had would say. Every touch brings you closer to what you want to ask him to do to you. But before you could, Simon already had ideas.

“Can I?” Simon asked softly while already sliding off your shorts. Surprised to see that you were not wearing panties at all. A small smirk left on his lips, one of his hands leaving your thigh and cupping your ass.. You gave a small nod in response to his question. That was enough for him to unzip his jeans and take his member out.

He placed it between your inner thighs that were together, just right against your slick and needy folds. He was happy to see you already a mess without him doing much. He rocked his hips back and forth between your thighs and pussy, enjoying the moment.

This was a perfect stress reliever for him. Some sighs and groans would escape his throat, but he mostly kept his lips on your neck, slightly biting down on the supple flesh, leaving marks. A hand rested on your waist, another playing with your tit, his finger brushing against your hardened nipple as you two continued to lay on your sides.

“Mmm…” A hum from his throat as he continued to use your thighs for himself. He moves his hand from your waist down to your thigh where he squeezed gently.

Now faster, he moved his hips behind you, his breath picked up and became more rugged. But he didn’t know how much he could hold back any longer just fucking your thighs. Simon wanted you, more than anything, but if he were to have you, he wouldn’t be sure if he could stop. His warm lips never stopped leaving marks over your neck, branding you as his.

A few soft yet fast thrusts, he came on top of the bed sheets, his hips slowing down as he rode his orgasm out. Without warning, he flipped you onto your stomach, positioning himself on his knees behind you, between your now messy thighs.

“Please. Please let me feel you.” Simon would plead. The switch off in attitude was certainly something. He didn’t care about much of anything right now. You moved your head to the side from the pillow and your irises gave him permission. If they didn’t, your pussy certainly did. He put his weight on your back, a hand on your throat and an arm wrapped just below your breasts so that your lower torso was lifted a little, then he pushed himself inside you. Your ass makes contact with his hips, earning him a small mewl from your mouth.

He relished in the feeling of your walls getting used to his cock again, so he would stay with you in that moment for just a little bit. Simon wasn’t sure if he could be gentle with you, at least not right now. He needed it. He’s been away from your body for a while due to work, now he had you, and he was going to have you.

His hips began slapping against you, his thrusts at a fast pace, making your body shudder. Small pants would leave Simon’s mouth as he continued to use your body. However, he did make sure while he was fucking you, to keep you in mind. He’d probe his cock against your cervix while teasing your breast with the hand under them.

“Such a good girl, not so silent are we?” Simon teased in your ear as his thrusts pounded deeper into your body, penetrating you. You swear he was trying to split you open. You couldn’t think of what words to say as you were preoccupied with releasing whines, whimpers and moans to each of his movements.

Your back instinctively arches, your hips raised a little higher for him to bruise you more. He did just that, making sure to pump you full of his cock as he abused your body from the inside with it. This is what he missed. He missed you of course, but fucking your cunt was the top of his list if he had to admit it.

The pressure from his hand that was wrapped around your throat began to grow slightly, making your eye prickle with wetness as he slammed into you sensely. He was ravaging you right now, taking in your body. He could feel your walls tightening around him as you started getting closer. He stopped, leaving you dumbfounded.

“No no no. You don’t get to cum until I tell you to. Understand, lovie?” Simon would whisper in your ear with a smirk in his breath. Since you used silent treatment on him earlier, he decided you needed some punishment. At least for making him a little frustrated.

“Think you can wait for me?” He added with a heavy yet shallow breath. You wanted to cum at that moment. To release. But he wouldn’t let you. Was he really edging you right now? You nodded then he started up once more. His breaths, ragged. His grunts became louder as he felt his tip hitting you from the inside.

He moved the hand from your hip and placed it just right above your lower stomach. Simon wanted to feel himself fucking into you. Simon loved the bulge he created when he was balls deep. He loved stuffing you full of his cock. Your moans grow louder while your body writhes under him. You could even feel your eyes beginning to roll to the back of your head.

Your legs wanted to give out, they were trembling. Simon would take note of this and decided that he needed to pick up the pace. And so he did, he wasn't going to let you give out so easily.

It wasn’t long before you could feel your body begging for its release.

“Si, please.” You pleaded desperately.

“Please what?.” Simon would whisper in a teasing tone to get you to use your words.

“Please–I can’t…Jesus. Si, I don't know how much longer I can take it. Please” You begged to finish, your walls tightening around his cock again. Your eyes threaten to take away the water within them. Speeding up his thrusts into you, he puts pressure on your throat, tightening little by little.

“So good, begging for it.” Simon said between soft grunts next to your ear as he was more focused on his hips and breathing.

“Cum with me, lovie. Give it to me.” Simon would say to you, almost sounding like a command more than asking for it. You felt yourself being driven over the edge as your insides squeezed him, giving him what he wanted. You came around his cock, juices coated it, giving it a slick advantage. It wasn’t long before one last hard thrust, he spilled his hot seed into you. Breeding you.

Simon would stay in that moment, making sure to give a few more thrusts to fuck his cum deeper into you, he wanted you to be painted white from the inside. He would soon let go of your throat and lift himself off of you and your hips. He slid his sensitive cock out of your bruised pussy, watching himself spill out of you with satisfaction.

“We’ll get you cleaned up. I’ll run a bath.” Simon would say as he got up from the bed and walked towards your shared bathroom where the water began to run. He would peek his head from the side of the doorframe.

“You’re not going in tomorrow.”

840 notes · View notes

fuckmyskywalker · 8 months

Note

🕯️🧺 w anakin? plz? 🥺❤️

Prompt: 🕯️ "You weren’t supposed to hear that.” | 🧺 Stepcest. — Anakin Skywalker.

CW: 18+, smut!. stepcest, dub-con/non-con (reader is drunk and under other substances, they don't explicitly say yes but they don't say no either so). Anakin is quite violent in here, and mean, and a bitch. Dirty talk, Oral sex (m), struggling with feelings, Anakin is an idiot tbh but he is my filthy, pervert idiot. | Word count: 2.9k (...somebody kill me.)

a/n: This is so disgustingly delicious I couldn't help myself, sorry. It was supposed to be a short drabble but ended up being almost 3k of pure filth.

His feet tap the rug of the living room anxiously; Anakin knows he should stay away from all this, lock himself in his bedroom, and jack off before bed.

But as usual, his thoughts are even more complicated than that, he is caught between a situation that he isn’t sure has a positive outcome or even one for that matter. It’s the same conflict he has been going through ever since his wonderful mother had the great idea to marry your awesome dad who treated her as she deserved and welcomed Anakin as his son. But that wasn’t the problem.

It was you.

Anakin wanted you, so bad it burned his skin and chained his heart to a cold wall of self-restraint. This is wrong, or at least that’s what he kept repeating to himself every night he heard you in the adjacent room, moaning softly under your own caresses and all he could do was rub his uncomfortable erection to at least ease some of the yearning. This is wrong, or at least that’s what he kept whispering in the shower, closing his eyes to not see his hands squeezing your bottle of shampoo and consuming his sanity in the sweet scent of strawberry shortcake, relishing in the calmness your characteristic smell brings him. This is wrong, or at least that’s what he kept saying in the solitude of the obscure living room, waiting for you to come back from whatever fucking party you decided to sneak out that night.

It was easier to mask his desires and sinful lusts for you under a coat of anger. Always snapping at you, yelling, pushing you away. Anakin found that nasty attitude as an effective coping mechanism. For a while. You suddenly stopped talking to him, searching for his friendship or a simple common ground so you two could be in the same room without screaming and throwing insults at each other until either his mother or your father had to step in.

Neither of them tried to interfere unless things got heavily verbal and one time, physical. They both concluded it was only the edge of getting used to this new dynamic. You and Anakin just need more time to grow accustomed to each other’s presence, that’s it. Plus, Shmi didn’t feel entitled to scold you, and your father was never good at dealing with “women’s emotions”.

Deep down, Anakin was feeling guilty, and he, much like your father, wasn't good at dealing with others’ emotions, less alone his. He never tried to apologize either, which perhaps was why he was doing this. Aside from that repetitive statement of “this is wrong”, he tries to swallow his guilt and add to the mix a hint of “this is how I show my worry for her”. Which, if being brutally honest, was a pretty shitty way of doing so. Glancing at the digital clock on the fireplace, his anxious tapping gets stronger, it is almost 3:30 am. He hesitates, should he call you? Would you even pick up the phone? Should he just drop this whole act off and go to bed? Anakin feels too tired to even masturbate, or too angry, it doesn’t matter. The thoughts and “what ifs” begin to drown him, and if there is something that the unstable bastard is, is an overthinker.

As luck would have it, his head snaps up when he hears the front door click open softly, followed by a muffled giggle. He stands up slowly, careful not to make a single noise. Are you alone? He hopes you are. The idea of seeing you with someone else twists his stomach with jealousy, quickly followed by that familiar wave of guilt. He has no right over you, that is a fact, and yet he forces himself to look over it, using the poor, sick excuse of being your stepbrother to worry about you; Even if his worry is translated into being a bitch, spying your every movement, and fucking his fist to the thought of you.

He sees you stumbling through the front door, clicking the latch with what appears to be shaky fingers. Anakin remains silent as he scoots closer to you, resting on the frame of the arch that leads from the living room to the hallway that connects with the front door and the kitchen. You fail to notice his presence, too busy struggling to keep both feet on the floor as your heels hang from your right hand and your purse on your left. The tiniest bit of relief travels through his veins, at least you are alone. You walk past Anakin, but he doesn’t let you wander more than three steps.

“Had a fun time? He asks in a sarcastic, dry tone. Cold blue eyes scan you up and down unashamedly, taking notice of how revealing and tight your outfit looks.

With a loud gasp you turn around in a split second, your eyes widen and your mouth contorts into an expression of shock and drunken panic, Anakin predicts your scream and sprints towards you clasping a hand over your mouth and pushing you against the nearest wall. If he was upset before now he is fuming. “Shut the fuck up” He whispers against your face, his hot breath fanning over your nose. Up close Anakin notices how your eyes are droopy, puffy, and red. “If you wake them up I won’t save your ass”

You try to push him away but to no avail, Anakin is stronger than you, and your drunken state completely eats up your stability. Your head shakes side to side trying to remove his hand from your mouth but it only makes him push it harder until your lips begin to feel numb. “Where were you?” He asks, towering right in front of you in a frightening yet… arousing way. “And what the fuck is that outfit?”

It’s rather ironic how your stepbrother keeps interrogating you but also takes away your ability to talk— You let go of your heels that fall to the wood floor with a muted sound, trying to push him away with your palm against his chest.

Which apparently infuriates Anakin further. “Keep your hands off me, who knows where they’ve been” He hisses and slaps your hand away and pins it to your side with frustrated force. “Were you with someone?” Anakin hisses, so close to your face you can see how deep his eyes are. You never recall they were such a pretty shade of blue.

You shake your head at his last question, the only verbal indication you can give. His shoulders seem to relax the tiniest bit just to return to his usual tense shape. “Don’t fucking lie to me” He warns you and spits your name in a venomous way that should hurt your feelings and bring tears to your eyes. You shake your head again this time more desperately, this is the closest he had ever been to you ever since your father married his mother and it’s borderline scary. “You smell like a damn distillery, fucking disgusting”

Instead of pushing him again, you raise your knee to hit his hip, your goal was his crotch but you missed by a lot. Anakin grunts in pain and lets go of your mouth for a second letting you take a heavy, desperate breath. Your body feels dizzy and sweaty and it’s all because of him. The altercation only lasts a few seconds and you don’t even reach the first stair before Anakin yanks your hair and slams your body back to a wall.

“Let go of me—” You whine with little conviction. “Get the fuck off Anakin I—” Your voice isn’t a plea, it’s an irritated complaint that makes you focus on everything else besides the burning ache that is beginning to form in between your legs at the tussle between your stepsibling. You expect his hand to clasp over your mouth again and the little self-consciousness left in your mind decides to bite his palm if he does so—

But instead, his lips crash over yours messily, punching all the air from your lungs. Your body reacts faster than your mind and the first thought that swirls in your hazed head is: His tongue tastes like heaven. Anakin quietly grunts at the strong flavor of liqueur and cheap cigarettes that fills his senses, pushing his hips forward basically rubbing his half-hard cock against your hip. Using his grip on your hair he yanks your head upwards so his lips can attack your jaw and neck, rapt in your heavy panting. Anakin’s knee finds a comfortable spot between your thighs, rubbing the sharp bone over against your needy core. Your body jolts slightly and you mewl into the cold air of the staircase hallway. You want to touch him, run your hands through his hair, cup his beautiful face, embrace this sick, prohibited feeling— but the emotional grip he was on you is doing its job. You can’t seem to find the strength to move a single muscle, melting into a wordless puddle for the person who you were supposed to hate.

Anakin’s knee picks up an acceptable pace forcing you to move your hips involuntarily to relieve some of the ache. You couldn’t remember when was the last time you were this wet, and even if you wanted to— it would’ve been impossible. He leaves wet, lewd kisses over your neck before sucking and biting your skin, ravishing you as if you were his prey, and perhaps you were. Anakin’s hand which isn’t gripping at your hair so hard your scalp is burning, squeezes your hip with the same brutal, appealing force.

“You don’t have any idea how bad I want you” Anakin breathes against your neck, his voice lingering with that dangerous edge, mixed with what appears to be compassion, but not for you, for himself.— or even emotion. “You get under my damn skin, you make me lose my damn mind” His white teeth are like a threat, sinking into every inch of skin available, marking you.

To care? You don’t have it in you. Probably not even if you were sober. Your mind struggles to come up with a reply, the ocean you are swimming in has everything except guilt, which was burning Anakin’s soul. “I know…” You whispered weakly, pushing your hips forwards and biting your lip to choke a moan at how good it felt to be humping your stepbrother’s knee. “I heard you jacking last month— you moaned my name” It was a miracle you could even build the sentence together, your voice was slurred and broken, but Anakin understood every word.

He curses under his breath, and the surprising sight of his flushed, red cheeks seems to break your drunk trance for a moment. Anakin hides his face in your shoulder, resting his forehead on the muscle. “You weren’t supposed to hear that” He mutters, it feels humiliating, but the simple act of unintentional humiliation makes his cock twitch inside his grey sweats.

“I did”

“Shut up”

“I liked it”

Anakin’s head snaps upwards, meeting your half-lidded eyes. He wants to believe you. The doubt flies around his head: He is not used to having what he wants— Why would you be the exception? Is this his chance to be greedy and take the only thing he has been craving for months now? Is this how Eve felt when the Devil offered her the forbidden fruit?

Are you his forbidden fruit?

Is this the way out from Eden?

It was too much.

Lowering his knee he glares at your discontented groan, placing both hands on your shoulders and forcing you to kneel. The intention is clear, and it doesn’t take you long to pick it up. Your shaky hands fumble with the little bow on his swears but Anakin just pushes them away, muttering something about ‘how stupidly drunk you are you can’t even do something for yourself’. What is also not a surprise, is the lack of underwear— but what it is— is his cock.

Your mouth waters at the sight of it, completely hard right in front of your face. Swallowing, you allow him to guide the tip to your open, awaiting mouth. The first touch is like touching heaven, or hell— Your warm tongue swirls over the sensitive head tasting the salty precum, wondering what could you do to be able to savor him again. Anakin places his large hand on the back of your head fighting the urge to push you all the way in. He is trying to be nice, at least a little. Although, it seems like you have other plans; He is bigger than other guys you’ve seen, not massive but certainly above average. Perhaps big enough that you can see the outline on your lower stomach if he fucks you. Sliding a couple more inches inside your wet mouth you roll your eyes at the way Anakin’s breath hitches and how his hips push forwards the slightest bit.

The wonderful weight of his cock on your tongue is hypnotizing, and you waste no time bobbing your head back and forth, sliding a bit more of his cock after a couple of minutes. Raising your eyes, you find Anakin staring directly at you, his blue irises dilated and almost glowing in a predatory manner.

His breathless chuckle catches you off guard. “You must be a slut if you suck cock this good.” It’s a double-edged compliment, either way, it feels good. You whine around his dick making him hiss in pleasure, biting his lower lip to keep the noises down. He can only imagine the catastrophic consequences if his mother (or your father) wakes up and finds his son’s cock buried in his stepsibling’s throat. “Fuck— I wish I could have you on your knees all day…”

You try to nod at the idea, it sounds great— it fucking does. The struggle for air starts to hit you, and the lustful haze replaces the alcohol haze in your head and bloodstream— You are no longer drunk in cheap tequila, vodka, and whatever the fuck was in that igloo; no, you are drunk in his cock, his scent, his voice, in him.

You decide to go big, because well, you already are home. Deepthroating him rewards you with a delightful moan, not loud enough to bounce over the walls of the first floor but enough for you to pick it up and moan as an aftereffect. Your throat contracts around his hard cock and Anakin is a dead man. The little restraint he had left breaks and the next thing you feel is your head banging against the wall to keep you in place as he fucks your face. His hips thrust on and on, your gags and chokes sobs only spurring him further. Your nails dig into his thighs and his balls graze against your chin with every frantic snap. Anakin is painting, sweating, sinning.

If this was the forbidden fruit, could he blame Eve at all?

Your tears, your smeared makeup, the drool that trickles down your chin is like a work of art. Anakin thinks you look beautiful, but it isn’t enough. The muted pounding of the back of your skull against the wall shouldn’t be as erotic as you register it, forcing your mouth open, letting him use you, ruin you, own you in the nastiest way possible.

Anakin’s release comes without warning. His cock twitches inside your mouth and some thick, hot ropes of cum slide down your throat before he moved out of the warm paradise that your mouth was to paint your face with his cum. He exhales shakily, stroking the base to make sure everything is out and on you. The thick globe of cum that slides down your cheek reaches the corner of your lips and you stick your tongue to catch it, making Anakin squeeze his eyes close and wipe the sweat away from his forehead with the back of his hand.

The silence is everything but tense, it even feels comforting; as if all the words that you two wanted to scream were now said— in such a carnal, animalistic way. Anakin’s hands are gentle as he helps you get up, giving you the time you need to calm yourself and settle the unsteadiness of your legs. His arm wraps itself around your waist, trying so badly not to look at your cum-stained face in order to not get hard again.

“Sorry,” He whispers as the familiar sensation of guilt makes itself present and commences to weigh his shoulders down. His nose scratches your shoulder, and every negative thought begins to swirl inside his mind.

“Don’t be” You reply, trying to smile but you are too tired to even do it.

The clock ticks 4:12 am.

“Is it wrong if I say I love you?” Anakin’s voice is searing with regret, what has he done? The martyrdom rings inside his chest, constricting it and echoing like big, golden bells.

“I don’t know” Your answer is sincere. You blink some tears away, wiping some of his lukewarm cum away from your face, it’s beginning to dry up. “But I love you too, so, if it’s wrong…”

He knows what you are implying.

The clock ticks 4:16 am when he helps you undress and wipes your face with a makeup remover wipe. Anakin helps you get dressed, noticing your pajama top was an old t-shirt that belongs to him, a piece of clothing he simply imagined he lost in the washer machine. His lips are soft when he tucks you in bed. You smile at him tiredly, kissing him back.

No more words were needed.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 English isn’t my first language, sorry for any mistakes!

#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 anya writes!#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 anya answers!#anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker imagines #anakin skywalker fic #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin skwalker #anakin skywalker one shot #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker fanfic #stepbrother!anakin #stepbrother!Anakin Skywalker

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disasterofastory · 7 months

Text

Reward (Brahms Heelshire x Reader)

Reward // Brahms Heelshire Masterlist Brahms Heelshire x Reader Kinktober 2023 - 6/14 Warnings: mommy kink, titfucking, sub!Brahms

Summary: Brahms was a good boy so you reward him.

The tension is thick and heavy in the air. The breakfast on the table is long forgotten since you reminded Brahms of the men coming here to take care of your internet problem. A sigh leaves your lips as you glance at the clock on the wall while the man continues to stare at you with a scowl on his face. There is a deep wrinkle between his brows as he eyes you with opposition and annoyance. His hair is still a mess of dark curls on the top of his head. "We talked about this, Brahms," you break the silence, turning your attention back to the man in front of you. Even though you are afraid he will throw a tantrum even before you can feel the effect of your coffee, you can't help but notice the fullness of his lips as he pouts at you. One of your best decisions was to trim his beard a little. He really looks like a fallen angel.

"Why are you smiling?" He asks, still scowling at you. Even though he wants to use his childlike voice, sleep is still heavy in his tone. "You are just pretty," you tell him honestly, making him blush and turn his gaze away from you for long seconds. "It won't work," he grunts, still not looking at you. Your grin widens at his behavior. Going around the table, you cup his face until he can't avoid your eyes any longer. His large hands slip to your waist automatically to pull you closer. "They won't be here for long," you tell him. "I promise." "I still don't like it." "I know," you nod. "And you don't have to like it, Brahms. I just ask you to be a good boy for me, okay?" He doesn't reply immediately, so you continue. "Can you do that for mommy?" A muffled whine breaks free from his closed lips. Your thumbs smooth over the soft pink of his cheeks. "You can't scare them away, Brahms, and you can't hurt them. They come here to help me." "I won't hurt them if they don't try to hurt or take you away from me." You nod in agreement. "Of course, Brahms, I know you will protect me." His posture straightens at your praising tone. "If you will be a good boy, I will reward you later," you promise him just to make sure he won't cause any chaos behind the walls. "What reward?" "It will be a surprise," you grin at him, playing with the rough hair of his beard. "But we didn't do this before." You already know he will love it.

You can't lie, you are worried about the men the whole time they are in the manor. You watch them from a safe distance while your eyes scan the walls every now and again. You know Brahms is here somewhere. You can hear him. "The house is old," you tell the men when they look at you questioningly when something thuds again. You know your manchild does this on purpose. He can be silent when he wants, but patience is not his strong suit. "Okay," one of the men says after a while. "It should be good." "Thank you," you smile at them, trying to hide your relief when they open the entrance door. "You know our number if something is wrong." "Yes, I know," you nod. "Thank you again, and have a nice day."

When you go back to the living room, Brahms is already there, staring at your laptop with another scowl on his face. "What's wrong?" You ask him. He just shakes his head, still pouting. "You were a bad boy, Brahms," you tell him, getting closer and closer to him. "What?" He asks, almost shocked. "I wasn't." "You made a lot of noises." "But I didn't scare them away," he reasons. "You told me I can't scare or hurt them." Well, he is right. "So you think you deserve your reward?" You coo at him, pushing him onto the couch. You can see his Adam's apple bob as he gulps, staring at you with wide eyes. "Yes," he replies, nodding. "Yes what, Brahms?" Your voice is firmer now, but you can't hide your taunting smirk as you watch him already fidgeting. "Yes, mommy." His tone is already whiny. "I want my reward."

Without saying a word, you climb up to his lap, resting your knees on either side of his hips. Your hands land on his chest and move up to his shoulders to brace yourself against him. "Then kiss me, Brahms." You barely have enough time to end your sentence when he leans even closer and latches his lips on yours. His beard grazes your skin, and his tongue invades your mouth immediately.

He is still inexperienced when it comes to intimate things, but he learns quickly and lets you lead him and teach him the way you want. You love to see him whimper and writhe when you dominate him.

His hands are warm on your hips as he squeezes your flesh there until his hold slips down your ass. His fingers dig into the rough fabric of your jeans, and he grunts with annoyance. "It's okay, Brahmsy," you break away from him for a few seconds. His lips are already swollen and red, and his eyes are glassy with need. So beautiful. "I only need to get rid of my shirt and bra for what I have planned." At the mention of your bra, his hands leave your ass immediately to push and tug on your shirt until they are on the floor. "The bra too, Brahms," you remind him, grinning. You can't help but bask in his star-struck expression.

Maybe your relationship with Brahms Heelshire is not ideal or normal, but you never felt so desired and wanted before him. There are times when you notice him staring at you like you hang the moon, and you can't even imagine leaving him. You are definitely not sane for being with a man who used a doll to live instead of him while he was hiding behind the walls, but at least you found your perfect match.

Cradling his face in your hand, you use your thumb to caress his bottom lip. His mouth opens immediately, tongue peeking out to taste your fingertip. "I love you, Brahms," you tell him, giving him a few seconds so your words can really sink in. His eyes widen, and his lips fall open even more. His hands on you tighten. "Really?" He whispers, shocked. "Yes," you nod, pecking his nose. "I really love you." A loud shriek leaves your throat when he tugs you against him until his face is at the crook of your neck. His breathing is heavy, and his arms around you are almost painful. "I love you too," he murmurs. "I love you so much." For a long while, you just sit on his lap, playing with his hair. Your heart is still wild against your ribcage, and you can feel the vehement pace of his heart on your chest. "So," you break the silence. "Do you want your reward?" You ask him, and even though he nods, he still holds you tightly. "Brahmsy," you coo, leaning closer to his ear so every word you utter trembles through his nerves. "Mommy's tits ache for your mouth." A low whine is your only answer before he pushes you away just enough to take off your bra and latch on your nipple. Brahms squeezes and gropes your breasts for long minutes, letting his saliva soak your skin until it shines under the sunlight filtering through the window. His tongue flicks your other nipple, drawing small circles around the hard pebble as your fingers grab his hair to pull him closer. Your back arches with pleasure. "Make sure mommy's tits are wet, sweet boy," you tell him. "We will need them wet and slippery." "Fuck," he grunts into your cleavage, feasting on your breasts. He sucks, licks, bites, and tugs on you while thinking about how easily he could spend his whole life like this. "That's enough, love," you hum, pushing him away. "It's okay," you peck his lips when he whines and grabs onto you harder. "I promise you will love what I have planned." When he lets you go, still not sure anything is worth enough to let go of your tits, you sink onto the floor between his legs. You sucked him off before like this, but the sight of his hard dick in your mouth still mesmerizes him.

"Don't cum without my permission, Brahmsy," you warn him firmly. Your breath fans over the tip of his cock while your hand strokes his shaft, twisting your fingers around the soft skin. The man can feel his blood pumping as his cock swells into a full hard-on. Brahms wants to whine at your command, but his mind melts the moment you take him back into your mouth, and instead, he grunts as his cock twitches in your wet channel. With your eyes still on the man, your head starts to bob up and down on his erection. Your hand is around his thick base, jerking him in a steady rhythm with your mouth. You slurp and gulp around his cock, letting your tongue swipe over his length wherever you can reach him. Soon, his cock is soaked in your saliva and his pre-cum. Small drops flow down to his balls, making the man whimper and fidget in his seat. "We have to make you nice and wet," you grin up at him when you come up for air, gently squeezing and tugging on his cock to smear your juices all over his shaft while the man huffs and puffs in your hand. A thin layer of sweat shines on his skin, and his cheeks are bright pink. There is a point when he can't even breathe anymore as he watches you spitting on his cock. "Mommy," he cries out, desperate. "Please! Let me-" "No," you tell him, letting go of his cock. The loss of your touch is so sudden that tears gather in his eyes as his erection throbs angrily at you. "Pleasepleaseplease!" "Don't you want to know what I have planned?" You ask him with a feigned gentleness. He can hear the taunting in your words clearly and loudly. "I do," he gasps. "I do." "Good boy," you praise him. "You are my good boy, Brahms. I'm so proud of you." "Fuck!" "Come closer, Brahms," you tell him. "Sit at the edge of the couch." Brahms's whole body feels numb and heavy as he obliges. "Good boy," you tell him again. "And here is your reward because you were such a good boy today." Brahms's inhale is sharp and loud as he watches you cupping your tits to bring it to his cock. His world stops spinning for a second when you press your breasts around him, enveloping his length in your soft warmth. You massage your flesh and his cock slowly and sensually as you stare at him with half-closed eyelids. "Does it feel good, Brahmsy?" You ask him. "So good," he replies. His voice is barely louder than a whisper. He is still shocked at the sight of his cock between your tits and the feeling of your softness around him. The top of his cock appears and disappears in your cleavage, and your nipples are hard peaks between your fingers. "You can move, you know," you grin at him teasingly. "You can fuck mommy's tits if you want."

The angle is a bit awkward and uncomfortable, but Brahms doesn't have enough focus to care about it. Bracing himself on the couch, he starts to move his hips up and down, watching his cock slide between your tits.

Knowing how much he loves your tits, it was a long-time-coming position you wanted to try with him. And you are not disappointed. Your pussy throbs for more, soaking your panties, but your hands are too busy to do anything about it. There is something exciting about the fact that he fucks your tits for his own pleasure. His chest heaves and his muscles tense every now and again. His glassy gaze is on your chest while you stare at his face. His lips are open with occasional whines and grunts falling out of them, and his curls fall in front of his eyes. "You are so beautiful, Brahmsy, fuck," you tell him honestly. The pink of his cheeks deepens. "I don't want you to wear your mask anymore when you are around me, Brahms," you continue. "I don't want anything hiding your pretty face from me." "Mommy," he whines, pumping you faster. You have to tighten your hold to keep your breast around his vehement pushes. With a knowing grin, you bend your neck just the right way so your tongue can reach the tip of his cock every time it appears between the swell of your breasts. Your tongue flicks and swirls around his head, letting your saliva drop as a lubricant. "Fuck!" He gasps again. His balls jerk and his cock swells with blood and the need to cum. "You can cum, Brahms," you tell him. "Cum all over your mommy's tits." The words are barely out of your mouth when his body stiffens, and his cock spurts with cum. His warm seed splashes over your skin, painting your tits and chin.

Brahms has to force his eyes to focus because he will be damned if he doesn't burn the sight of you soaked in his cum deep in his mind.

#brahms heelsire x reader #brahms heelshire smut #brahms heelshire imagine #the boy imgaine #the boy x reader #kinktober 2023 #slasher fucker

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chaoticsimp · 10 months

Text

What Could Have Been - Part 2

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Relationship: Twilight x Reader

Content Warnings: SFW, Fluff, Angst, Angst, Angst, Female Reader, Y/N, Reader has a son, Mention of pregnancy and birth, reader has a gun but doesn't use it, Anxiety mention. So much longing.

Summary: It was like looking in a mirror. A chance encounter that Twilight could have never seen coming. He could just move on, ignore the realities of what the child could mean but he was never one to sit still.

A/N: The very requested part 2 of What Could Have Been! There might be a part 3, but haven't decided. I hope you enjoy the additional angst.

Word Count: 2600

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After dinner, homework, bath, and the next chapter of his bedtime story your son was fast asleep. You laid out a fresh uniform for the morning and got to work tidying the kitchen. Your unfinished lesson plan sat on the coffee table in the den, along with assignments waiting to be graded. When you glanced at the clock you knew you’d be up later than you liked and started on a pot of coffee to compensate.

“Damn him,” You muttered to yourself. Damn Twilight and his distractions. He had done as he promised, he stopped following you and you hadn’t noticed any other eyes on you since that fateful evening. Yet you remained paranoid and worried your son was beginning to take notice of your unusual behaviour.

“Damn it all.” You wiped your hands before retreating to your couch. You lifted your pen and eyed your lesson plan as your mind wandered. Would they come after you or him? Should you run just to be safe? It was easier when you were pregnant, and even when your son was an infant, but you had built a life in Ostania. Your son’s friends, and his school. Your Saturday adventures, weekly rituals, and routines that were all important to a developing mind.

“No,” You sighed to yourself. You couldn’t just leave; it would break your son's heart.

A soft knock pulled you from your thoughts, one you recognized as the beat repeated. You rose from the couch, listening for your son as you cautiously approached the door. You reached into the hidden compartment beneath your entrance table and drew the gun to your side before finally unlocking the door.

“Astra.” A name you hadn’t heard in years. One that only a handful of people knew, Twilight being one of the few. You stared up at him, both surprised and unsurprised that he’d show up on your doorstep so late. He caught the door when you tried to close it but didn’t put any more force than necessary to hold it open.

“There is no one here by that name,” You reminded sharply.

“My apologies, Y/N,” He replied slowly, gauging your response to the use of your name before continuing.

“Can we talk, please?” He asked quietly. Your eyes studied him – as beautiful and intelligent as he remembered only, they had lost some of the warmth. No…no he realized; the warmth was still there they had just lost the warmth they once held for him.

“Come in,” You relented and stepped aside. Twilight stepped in, allowing you to close and lock the door behind him. He pulled off his hat, setting it on the coat rack but kept his coat on.

“Coffee?”

“Isn’t it a little late?”

“Yes or no,” You replied.

“Yes.”

“Take a seat.” Twilight eyed the gun in your hand as you set it on the kitchen counter, exchanging it for a tray which you added a second cup to before bringing it to the living room. You placed it on the coffee table, pouring his cup before yours and took a seat on the single chair while he sat on the couch.

“I was surprised you used your real name.”

“Just my first,” You countered, taking a sip from your mug. “What better way to hide than in plain sight?”

“Fair point.” He lifted his own mug, his eyes wandering around your living space. Photos covered the walls; all were of the boy from infancy to now. In some you were present, in a few he spotted Master Henderson and in others faces he didn’t recognize.

“Why are you here?” You finally asked.

“I’m sure you know,” He replied, setting down his mug.

“When you actually backed off, I was surprised,” You admitted. “Surprised by you, and that the Handler hasn’t sent anyone else to snoop around.”

“You left peacefully, retired. I don’t see why they would.”

“What does my peace matter when my skills could benefit peace for all?”

“Words you used to live by.”

“I found better things than the job,” You replied.

“And yet you carry a weapon to answer the door.”

“I left the job, but I’m not ignorant of my past,” You sighed, and you followed his gaze as it wandered back to the photos on the mantle.

“You still haven’t answered my question, Twilight.” The use of his codename brought his eyes to yours. To the untrained eye, you looked relaxed, leaned back in your seat and hands occupied by your coffee. It looked as if you were catching up with an old friend. However, he knew you were poised to strike the moment you felt threatened and from his count had at least five things within range you could kill him with.

“Please, call me Loid.”

“Have I still lost the privilege of your real name?” Twilight noticed a playful glint briefly shine in your eyes. If it had been under different circumstances, he may have been tempted to play along but he reminded himself of his mission and the reason he came in the dead of night.

“I’m here to talk about the boy, your son,” He replied, and he noticed you tense.

“My son,” You repeated, and that icy demeanour cracked. A soft smile graced your lips as you glanced at the photo closest to you.

“He’s incredible,” You continued. “A brilliant and kind child. Curious, so much so that he gets into trouble more often than he should, but he craves knowledge.”

“He’s six?” He asked and you nodded, confirming the timeline he had laid out in his head.

“Most days I fear I’m not enough for him, but I suppose that’s how all mothers feel.” Twilight shifted in his seat, moving a little closer and nearly brushing your knee with his.

“Y/N,” He paused, trying to calm his racing heart as he clasped his hands together. “He looks just like me.”

“Just ask,” You breathed, and he noticed an uncharacteristic tremble in your voice as you held his gaze.

“Is he…my son?” He finally asked and you hesitated – those feelings from so long ago rushing back as you stared into the stunning blue eyes your son shared.

“Yes.” A whispered response that faded to silence as you stared at each other. Twilight had come here expecting this answer. After doing the math repeatedly he had concluded that there was no other possibility and yet part of him dared to hope. Wish? That for once, he was wrong.

“Is this why you retired?” He asked and you nodded. Your voice caught in your throat as you watched him stand, and you feared that he’d just leave now that he had the answer he came for.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Twilight had started pacing, his voice of reason he relied on disappeared as his mind swirled with questions.

“Or ask the Handler or Frankie to reach out to me? You could have found me yourself, you’re more than capable.” He felt the sweat gathering on his brow, and his stomach churned as he tried to sort through his conflicting emotions.

“Well?” His tone was sharper than he intended. Why was he getting so upset? Why couldn’t he see reason? He felt like a madman until he turned back to you. In all the time he had known you, you had never looked so small. He took a few slow breaths, trying to steady his racing mind and remind himself of his training as he waited for you to gather your thoughts.

“Because you left,” You finally spoke. Your voice betrayed you as it broke, and Twilight watched as the tears you were trying so hard to hold back slipped down your cheeks.

“Did you know back then, that last night? Is-Is that why you said you loved me?”

“No, of course not. I-I didn’t-”

“But you still hid him from me,” He accused.

“Stop interrupt-”

“I can’t believe-”

“I can’t love you!” Twilight paused at the raise in your voice, at the anger in your eyes as you stood to face him.

“I’m sorry, but the world needs Twilight more than I need you.” You recited, throwing his words back at him. “I told you I loved you, and that is what you said.”

Silence hung heavy in the air as you debated whether to kick him out or not, but Twilight’s thoughts were elsewhere. They were back on that night. A night he had locked away in the depths of his mind. To a normal couple it would have been a third-year anniversary, three years since you had stumbled upon the other. It was never official, but neither of you had seen anyone else in a romantic setting outside of missions. You met whenever your paths crossed, you wrote to the other in coded letters to check in, and yet neither of you would commit to a relationship. Yet he was the one who thought to pick up an expensive bottle of wine, and a small gift on that night that coincided with your third year of not being together. He opened that door first, and then slammed it in your face when you stepped through.

“I was heartbroken, alone, and scared with no reason to think you would care. You abandoned me, and I wasn’t going to let you abandon my son.” He knew you were right. After that night, after your confession and his less-than-kind response, you asked him to leave, and he promised not to contact you again. So, he tucked you away with the other thoughts he hid and didn’t reach out when you retired a few months later. Now he wished he had.

“That’s not fair,” He argued. “You’re not allowed to make that choice for me.”

“So, you’d have stayed?” Twilight hesitated, and that was answer enough for you.

“I couldn’t face you again and have you leave us, and maybe that was selfish of me, but I-I-” You tensed as he reached into his pocket, taking a defensive step back. Twilight didn’t take offence to your caution as he lifted his handkerchief, and you briefly closed your eyes as he dabbed the tears from your cheeks.

“You are anything but selfish,” He said gently. It had been so long it was easy to forget the pain he caused, and how deeply he hurt you. He never thought he would be faced with you again, and he scolded himself for not being more prepared for this interaction.

“I’m sorry, I let the surprise cloud my better judgment. I came here knowing the answer, and still, your confirmation sent me spinning,” He admitted.

“I’m not even sure I wanted the confirmation. It only leads to more-”

“Ma?” A sleepy voice whispered, and both your eyes went to the hall.

“Are you okay?” You quickly wiped your face, pressing on a smile as you stepped around Twilight.

“I’m alright, did we wake you?” You asked gently, lifting him into your arms as he rubbed his eyes.

“I was thirsty,” He whispered.

“I’ve got it,” Twilight offered, retreating to the kitchen.

“Is he bad Ma?” He heard the child whisper and noticed his own hand tremble as he filled a glass with water.

“No, he’s an old friend.” When Twilight turned back, he realized the child’s eyes were on the gun on the counter. It was a sight he seemed to be used to, and unsettlingly comfortable with. You pressed a kiss to his cheek, then set him down and Twilight offered him the glass.

“Thank you,” He whispered.

“No problem,” Twilight replied, suddenly unsure how to act as he stared into the eyes of his son.

“Back to bed, I’ll be there in a minute to tuck you in.” The boy kept his eyes on Twilight, and he felt like he was being analyzed. He patted his mother’s leg before wandering back down the hall.

“We can set up another time to talk. If you have more questions.”

“Yes, but just one more before I go,” He requested.

“Go on.”

“Why did you name him after me if you never intended to tell me?” You smiled slightly.

“A moment of weakness,” You confessed. He watched as you went to the living room and took a small photo off the mantle. You carefully pulled it from the frame, smoothing out the edges between your fingers as you returned to him.

“Birth was difficult, and I’d sooner face interrogation by the SSS before doing it again but when I met him all I saw was you.” You offered him the photo, and he stared down at it.

“Like looking in a mirror,” He mumbled, as he took it.

“Does he ask about me?”

“Sometimes.” Twilight glanced up from the photo.

“What do you tell him?”

“That is father is a brilliant, wonderful, and kind man who has spent his entire life protecting others with little thanks. That even though he couldn’t be with us, it doesn’t make him any less of a hero.”

“Oh…” It was all he could say, as he had expected the worst.

“You may have hurt me, but you are still a good man. Besides that, I needed you to be someone he wasn’t afraid of. So, my intentions weren’t entirely honourable.”

“But you never wanted us to meet?”

“No, but as I’ve said I’m not ignorant of my past. I had contingencies in place if something were to happen to me – he had to know of you, the real you.”

“So, he knows that he is named after me?” He asked and you nodded.

“If he needed to get in touch with WISE and more specifically you, that would have been better than any old code.” He knew you were right, and once again expected nothing less.

“What-”

“I believe you said one question Mr. Forger,” You reminded, and he noticed the tired look in your eyes and remembered that your son – his son – was waiting for you to put him back to bed.

“Yes, you’ve indulged me quite enough for tonight,” He agreed, offering back the photo, but you gently pushed back his hand. He didn’t argue as he slipped the photo into a hidden pocket within his coat.

“I’ll set up something with your office, so we don’t raise any suspicion,” You offered. He nodded, drawing a business card from his pocket, and set it on your entrance table.

“Whenever you’re ready.” Although he hoped you wouldn’t wait too long. He went to take his hat from your coat rack but noticed you already had it in your hands. He leaned forward a little, letting his Mr. Forger façade slip as you set the hat gently on his head. Your fingers drifted down the side of his face, and he closed his eyes briefly to lean his cheek into your hand. He lifted one of his hands to set over yours, recalling the comfort you always brought him. The gentleness you used to have for him, the peace you used to blanket him in after a mission. It was all still there in your palm, and he felt selfish for lingering in it now. Twilight opened his eyes, a soft smile on his face as he met your gaze and when he went to lean in your other hand came up to stop him.

“Have a goodnight, Mr. Forger.” Twilight chuckled and kept a hold of your hand as he stood straight. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your hand before turning to open the door.

“You as well Ms. L/N.”

#spy x family #twilight x y/n #twilight x reader #loid x y/n #loid forger #loid forger x reader #loid x reader #loid forger x you

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whatdoeseverybodywant · 14 days

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Rebuild & Restore - Chapter 3

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤

All OC Characters belong to me

Series Masterlist

Melvania furrowed her eyebrows as there was a knock on her front door. She looked at the clock that hung on the wall just above the entryway to her kitchen and set her coffee mug down on the counter as she saw it was just after 7 am.

“Josh?” She asked her baby brother as she opened the door, shocked to see him at her house so early. “What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk.” He said gruffly. “Can I come in?” Mel nodded and opened the door wider for him to enter her home.

“Is everything okay?” She asked as she followed him into the living room and sat down on the couch across from the chair he had sat in.

“No, not really. It’s about yesterday. With Kiyana.” Mel scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“I should have known.” She muttered, sitting back and folding her arms. “Lemme guess, princess couldn’t handle hearing the truth so she sent you here to set me straight?” She scoffed again. “She is a whore and I'm not apologizing for saying it Joshua.”

“That’s the mother of my kids Mel, whether you like it or not, you will not say no shit like that again while my kids are around.Yes, Kiyana fucked Joe.” Josh paused and clenched his fist together, he was still having a hard time dealing with that. “But I had an affair first, aight. I fucked up my marriage not Kiyana.” Mel rolled her eyes at his little speech.

“To be completely honest baby bro, I could care less. She hurt you and that’s all I care about.”

“You don’t have to like her, I mean you never did. But what you will do is respect the mother of your nephews.” Josh said as he stood up from her couch and walked out of his sister's house without saying another word to her.

Next stop, Kiyana’s house..

“Boys!” Kiyana yelled from the bottom of the steps. “What's taking so long!” She rolled her eyes as all she got back were giggles in response. She playfully glared over at Kairo when he started to giggle in his pack’n’play. “And what so funny?” She teased picking him up just as there was a knock on her front door.

“Dada!” Kairo squealed, reaching his arms out for Joshua as Kiyana opened the door.

“What are you doing here?” He handed her the flowers in his hand and took Kairo from here. “Who are these for?” She rolled her eyes at the look he gave her.

“Who else would they be for? Open it.” She eyed the box warily and opened it, shocked to see it was red roses with the letter K in white roses. “You like it?”

Kiyana nodded, “Yes, thank you.”

“You welcome ba-” He paused and stopped himself. “You’re welcome Kiyana. I’m sorry for letting Mel run her mouth yesterday and not stopping her.” Kiyana said nothing and set the flowers down on the console table.

“What are you doing here?” She asked again and Josh sighed.

“I wanted to take my family to breakfast.” Kiyana nodded and bit her lip.

“Ok, The boys are already dressed. We were going out with my mom, but I guess they can go with you.” She walked into the living room and Josh followed her, shutting the front door behind him.

“No, Key. Not just me and the boys, you too.” Kiyana arched an eyebrow and shook her head.

“No, that’s not a good idea. We’re div-”

“Divorced, I know.” He cut her off. “You don’t gotta say that shit every time we see each other.”

“We’re not family anymore Joshua. You and your family made that perfectly clear yesterday.” Josh set Kairo down in his pack n play and walked closer to Kiyana, who stepped back.

“I’m sorry Key. I was in my feelings yesterday and I apologize. So please, can we take our sons to breakfast?”

To Samara 👯‍♀️: Need to get this nigga head checked out… From Samara 👯‍♀️: Who? Lol what happened To Samara 👯‍♀️: Joshua, he showed up this morning w/ flowers and apologizing for Mel. From Samara 👯‍♀️: …. Girl To Samara 👯‍♀️: And now we’re at breakfast bc he wanted to take his ‘family’ out. To Samara 👯‍♀️: Oh and he played our song on the way to breakfast and kept looking at me out the corner of his eyes From Samara 👯‍♀️: not beauty by dru hill, lmao too little to late josh smh

“Who you texting?” Josh asked and Kiyana furrowed her eyebrows.

“Samara.” He nodded, surprised that she actually answered him. He took a sip of his orange juice and watched as she cut up Kaiden’s waffle for him.

“Joe’s back in Pensacola.” He blurted out and Kiyana paused her cutting and looked up at him.

“Okay..” She trailed off with a shrug. “Why are you telling me.?” Why in the hell is he bringing up Joe? She thought and then swallowed hard as she remembered the text message she received last night.

“Cause we had a deal, Kiyana.” Kiyana tilted her head at Josh. She then looked at he kids and noticed that they were busy on their I-PADS (yes, they’re I-PAD kids… don’t judge her)

“Josh, we're divorced. I can talk to whoever I want to.” Josh scoffed and shook his head,

“I don’t want him around my sons, Kiyana.” She sighed and rubbed her temples, feeling a headache coming on.

“I do not and will not talk to him. Joshua. Me and Joe have nothing to talk about, okay?” She said, just to get him to shut the hell up. Pleased with her answer, Josh let out a sigh of relief and sent a smile her way.

“Thank you” Kiyana didn’t say anything back to him, she just sighed and looked out the window, wishing she was anywhere but at that diner.

A.N/ Kiyana will forever love Joshua, he was her first everything. She did file for divorce first but no matter what she will always be inlove with him.

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#wwe #jey uso #jey uso x black reader #jey uso x reader #wwe x black reader #jey uso x black oc #jey uso fanfic #jey uso fanfiction #jey uso imagines #jey uso imagine #wwe x fem reader #wwe x oc #wwe x reader #wwe x you #wwe x y/n #jey uso x exwife! reader #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns imagine #roman reigns fanfic

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firsttimewriter92 · 8 months

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Neighborly shenanigans Pt. 1

Simon "Ghost" Riley x f! reader (Neighbor AU)

Part 2; Part 3; Part 4

Description: You´ve just moved in a couple of weeks ago, trying for a new start. A brief encounter with your neighbor gets your endorphins and imagination going. What is it about the mask?

Warnings: cursing, some dirty thoughts, fluff, a little pining

Word count: 1.917

A/N: Hi everyone <3 This is my very first Simon Riley x reader fic. I´ve written about several characters of CoD but Ghost was always kind of an enigma to me. I never knew how to make him the love interest. But and idea popped into my head after reading some characterization that made it much easier to write for him. So here you go :) Let me know if a part 2 is something you´d be interested in.

“Jesus fucking Christ” you swore as you tried your best to push your heavy apartment door open and balance your bag and groceries through the door. It was a struggle to say the least, but you were damned if you did second trips. Grumbling through your teeth you saw no other possibility than setting down your bag, holding the door open with your foot and grabbing your groceries a little more securely. Bending your knee, you gave your door a forceful push and slid through into your small hallway. Foregoing taking off your shoes you made your way into your open kitchen and set the heavy paper bags down on your kitchen island.

A sigh escaped you and you took a moment just to stand in your kitchen and take in the chaos around you. Half emptied moving boxes were strewn all around your living room, amidst not yet hanging shelves, plastic plants and several DIY projects. Another sigh left your lungs with a huff. Moving and starting anew had seemed like your only option a couple of weeks ago but now you dreaded the silence. You wanted this, ___, you thought. It was your decision.

Your new job was everything you ever hoped for, and training turned out to be smooth sailing. You loved it, you loved your apartment, even though it was far from being finished yet. But still, what you´d left behind still lingered in the back of your brain all too clearly at times. Especially when your heavy door closed behind you every evening and there was nothing but you, your DIY projects, an occasional phone call with your parents and then silence. Silence to wallow in, rake your brain and memories. Memories not even a good Podcast or music were able to drown out.

You weren´t as close with your colleagues yet as to be invited out to the pub after work but that was to be expected. The chances were good though. Maybe just a couple of days more and you´d have at least some kind of social interaction. One step after the other, you reminded yourself. Rome wasn’t built in a day. Your own impatience with yourself was yet again trying to make you feel like you´d made a mistake by moving. A humorless laugh bubbled from your lips as you shook your head. Calm down, you thought. This is your life, your pace. Relax.

A couple of minutes later your food was stored away, veggies and salmon steaming away and finally you sat down on your couch, glass of wine in hand and Netflix on your TV.

“Bloody hell” you cursed as a shot of adrenalin set your brain into overdrive. Your bag. You jumped off your couch and hurried over to the door. Swinging it open with a yank you initially thought someone had put out the lights in the corridor. All you saw was black and not a second later you collided with something solid.

Shaking your head, you realized three things. It was 7 o´clock on a warm day in July, so it couldn’t be dark out already. Your hallway had several windows and yes, the sun was still out. The black wall you just ran into turned out to be a massive chest.

Heat was ascending your neck as you took a small step back and lifted your head to look at the face this quite impressive physique belonged to. What the…?

Before you stood a man, several inches taller than you, frozen in place with his arm lifted as if he was just about to knock on your door. He looked down on you with impressive, hazel eyes. Honey blond, tousled hair adorned his head, falling slightly onto his forehead, wet tips clinging to his temples and a bead of sweat disappearing behind his ear. But that was about all you could make out.

Seeing people wearing a facemask had of course not been an unusual sight for the last three years but he wasn´t wearing one of those surgical ones. His nose, mouth and chin were covered in thick, black material, even spanning over his cheekbones and disappearing behind his ears. When your eyes caught his again you saw them narrowing just slightly and one blond eyebrow ticking upwards.

Something wriggly moved inside your belly.

The man slowly lowered his arm, simultaneously lifting the other slightly, holding out your bag.

“This yours?” a deep, calm voice broke through the silence and the wriggly something inside you spread out towards your chest, down your arms and into your fingertips. You swallowed, trying to gather your wits again.

“Uhm…yes. Yes, that´s mine. Forgot about it” you said with a nervous laugh as you took it from him. He hummed deep inside his chest in understanding. The sound only letting your eyes snap onto his again trying to decipher if the squinting was an annoyed one or an amused one.

Amused, as it turns out. He took a deep breath, the black material of his running shirt as you now realized it was, stretching across the expanse of his chest.

“You know, that´s how you get your identity stolen. Or at least your wallet.” Yeah, there was no question now, he was grinning behind his mask, his tone mildly rebuking but not at all belittling.

A small smirk of your own crawled onto your lips as you cocked out your hip and nodded your head.

“You´re absolutely right, Sir. I´ll cuff my bag to my wrist from now on so this inconvenience shall not occur to you a second time.” You want to be cocky, mister? Fine with me.

Your answer made him chuckle. It was short but genuine. One hand in his pocket he stepped back slightly and only now did you notice the heat that his body had emitted. With one last narrow of his eyes, making the edges crinkle ever so slightly he answered. “Not an inconvenience, Miss. Have a good evening.” He nodded once and walked away to your right.

“Y-you too” you cursed the way your words tumbled. To your surprise he halted in front of the door next to yours and your heart jumped into your throat as he took out his keys. Your eyes still fixed onto his side profile (you still couldn’t really make out any features), he gave you one last look before opening his door.

“And thank you” you rushed out.

He only lifted one hand to give you a small little wave that seemed way too juvenile for a man of his stature and closed his door.

Kind of shellshocked you turned around yourself and let your door fall shut behind you. Clutching onto your bag you didn’t even notice how long you were just standing in your hallway, trying to sort out the wriggling nerves. Who was that? Idiot. Your neighbor. Your neighbor that you´d never seen before. A man like him you´d remember seeing. There´d never been any noise from the apartment next to yours so you just thought it was either a very quiet tenant or one that only went there to sleep.

Sitting down on your couch again you stared at the wall behind your TV. He was behind that wall, doing…things. Existing. Why did that feel so exciting to you? Maybe it was just because that´d been your first real social interaction apart from talking to your colleagues?

Laughing incredulously at yourself you buried your burning face in your hands and giggled. No. No that wasn’t it and you knew it. It was stupid. So very stupid and weird and nerdy and…that damn mask!!

“Whhhyyyy…..?” you moaned grinning and rubbed your temples, finally letting all the pent up adrenalin and endorphins rush through your blood stream unstopped. What was it about men wearing those damn masks? Not being able to fully see their face. Having to find out what there was to them by just their actions.

The fist time you really thought you´d lost your mind was when you actually developed a burning crush on a literal tin can from the Star Wars universe. Oh yeah, sure. Give me a brooding, sarcastic, overworked loner with PTSD and give him a freaking child to protect. Watch him become a devoted, loving single parent. Of course! Yes, let me thirst after him. And did it stop there? Of course not. The pandemic hit and the lockdown had everyone in a chokehold.

The only chokehold you wanted to be in at the time however was one carried out by a video game character called Ghoul from “Call of Obligation”. Tatted up, burly, sharp, dutiful, loyal and fucking hot.

The only thing you were able to see of him? His eyes. Just his eyes and an occasional forearm here and there. Everything else covered in tactical gear and a scary facemask. God that character haunted your dreams almost every night. And now, you had his existing, breathing, heat emitting, real human equivalent living next to you. You felt your insides burn as another funny noise came from your mouth. There had to be something wrong with you. Why was half a visible face or even less, so damn attractive to you?

“Shit must be some kind of kink” you murmured to yourself as you reached for your wine glass.

Why was he wearing that mask anyway? People weren´t obligated to wear one anymore. Was it some kind of training technique while running?

Anyhow, you appreciated the encounter. Your mood instantly better even though the both of you hadn’t talked much at all. He seemed witty. Cocky almost and you liked that.

Emptying your wine, you put the glass back in the dishwasher and walked over to your bathroom when you heard it. The shower in the next apartment was running. Immediately you halted all movement and tried to not even breath. The situation seemed so delicate, like thin glass ready to break. You stared at the wall when something else caught your ears.

No. Did you hear this right? Was he…?

You walked carefully over to your shower and stepped in. Trying not to care about how crazy you must look at this moment, you turned your head to the wall slightly, closed your eyes and listened as hard as you could. There it was.

Low, melodic and absolutely captivating. Over the sound of the water hitting the tile you heard your neighbor singing. Your forehead hit the tile and you breathed as quietly as possible, marveling in the baritone sweetness that could be heard through the wall. All too soon, about a minute later it was over. The water was shut off, the singing stopped.

As if in trance you got your nighttime routine going and a couple minutes later, slid into bed. Knowing where his bathroom was now, you were positive that his bedroom had to be next to yours as well. You tried to hear more, but nothing else penetrated the walls. It made you glad actually. If you would be able to hear him in his bedroom, sleep would turn out to be an impossibility to achieve.

This way, you closed your eyes, got comfortable and let your thoughts drift and wander. Not long after, you were dead asleep. Your dreams yet again haunted, but now, the usual scary mask of Ghoul was replaced with a solid black one and instead of clawing at a fully clothed head between your legs, your fingers tangled into soft honey blond curls.

_____________________________________________________

I hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading. Please consider interacting with this post and give me some feedback. Comments and reblogs always help not only to push my work that I love, but also help to improve my writing and get my imagination going.

Thank you for considering it <3

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underoossss · 1 year

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Be Mine — S.H

pairing: steve harrington x f!reader

warnings: suggestive make out towards the end. language.

an: a Valentine’s Day gift from me to you! sorry if there are any typos.

———

You should have seen it coming, you suppose. Everything felt a bit… off right from the start.

Valentine’s day had arrived in an avalanche of pink and red decorations everywhere. A painful reminder that your valentine, the one you wanted to celebrate with, wasn’t yours at all. Steve Harrington was your friend, best friend in fact, and for years now the sole subject of your affections. He was everything, everything to you, which was why you had to ignore your feelings in the first place lest you lose him if he found out. Which is why, you suppose, on February 13th when one of your coworkers, Derek, had asked you out on a date for Valentine’s day you had said yes.

He had never showed any interest in you that you noticed, and to be honest you had no real interest in him. But a random date on valentine’s day was better than sitting alone in your room wondering what pretty girl had been lucky enough to be Steve’s date. He hadn’t told you anything, but if anyone could find a last-minute date it was Steve –if he had asked you, you wouldn’t have hesitated to say yes. Steve hadn’t said much when you told him Derek asked you out, choosing instead to change the subject, which you didn’t mind either. It was better than having to ask him who he would be taking out.

Now, on the 14th, you pace your living room waiting for Derek to pick you up. You’d styled your hair, happy for a chance to get all dressed up in a pretty floral dress and a cream-coloured cardigan. With a look at the clock on the kitchen’s wall you see that Derek is running 10 minutes late, but you figure he will be ringing your doorbell anytime now. A moment later, he arrives, but the doorbell doesn’t ring. Instead, you hear the honking of a car outside, and after a glance out the window you see that Derek has no plan of getting out of his car. He is waiting for you to go to him.

Steve is always on time, you think to yourself as you lock the door behind you, Steve always rings your doorbell and opens the passenger’s door. But you guess not everyone can be Steve, there’s only one and he’s not for you.

Swallowing hard to push back the tears that want to gather in your eyes, you open the door to Derek’s car and give him a fake smile. “Hey.”

“Hi.” He smiles and it’s not very sweet –there’s something else behind his eyes, but he doesn’t look at you long enough for you to figure it out. “Sorry I’m late, I lost track of time.”

“That’s… Um, that’s okay.” You shrug, looking out the dashboard to the road ahead and feeling anxiety bubbling in your stomach. “Where are we going?”

“Enzo’s.” Derek tells you, turning up the volume of the radio and flooding the car with music.

No more conversation then.

Your second sign that everything isn’t right comes when Derek parks on the other side of Main Street and the two of you have to cross the street to get to Enzo’s. Derek looks eager to get to the restaurant as soon as possible, while simultaneously not looking at all interested in staying by your side. He doesn’t open the passenger’s door for you, and barely waits for you to get out of the car to cross the street. Something Steve never would have done. Steve always opens the door for me, you think again, hating yourself for your feelings, Steve always holds my hand when we cross the street.

Stevie, I’m not a child. You’d complain when he grabs your hand as you cross.

I know you’re not, babe, I’m just looking out for you. He’d chuckle and hold your hand tighter.

Derek has the audacity to look exasperated when you finally reach him on the other side of the street, as if he didn’t leave you behind. You’re about to open your mouth and tell him so when the hostess approaches you with a smile.

“Good evening.” She says full of joy. “You two have a reservation?”

Derek nods and gives his last name to the hostess, who finds it after a short moment looking through a list and leads you to a table. It’s a small table by one of the windows and it’s decorated with a single red rose and a small candelabra. At least you’ll have a nice dinner, you suppose as you take a seat.

Derek lets out a deep breath and looks around the restaurant as a server fills your glasses with water. You thank him softly before turning to look at your date.

What you wouldn’t give for it to be Steve in front of you instead of Derek…

“Is something wrong?” You ask Derek when he doesn’t stop looking around the restaurant. “You keep looking around.”

Derek opens his mouth to say something when suddenly four people approach your table –two of them your coworkers and the other two are Derek’s friends. What are they doing here?

“Good. You’re here, now pay up.” Derek says, turning your night from a bad one to the worst one of all.

“I’m sorry, what?” You ask confused, anger and shame bubbling under your skin.

“We made a bet that Derek couldn’t get a date for Valentine’s day.” One of Derek’s friends explains nonchalantly. “Guess we were wrong.”

Your coworkers laugh and hand Derek some cash, which he accepts in triumph. In that moment, you wish the ground would swallow you whole so you never have to face these people again. A bet? Who in the world is cruel enough to do such a thing. Sure, you don’t have feelings for Derek, but no one deserves to be played the way you did.

Without another word, you stand up and walk to the front door where you see the hostess again. “Excuse me.” You tell her. “I have to leave, it’s an emergency. The boy I was with told me he would pay for the expensive champagne in the drink menu and to let you know. He just ordered it.”

“Oh, I’ll make sure they bring it to him right away.” She nods, oblivious to your lie.

“Yeah, I think he’s going to bring it home.”

You thank her and leave, stalking to the nearest payphone with a deep frown on your face. Stupid, stupid, stupid! And you have to find a new job on top of that. All to forget about Steve, what a fucking stupid idea. The only way you could ever forget him or your feelings for him is if you somehow got your memory wiped. A few stray tears fall down your cheeks and you wipe them away as you dial a phone number.

“Eddie, I need your help.” You mumble when your friend picks up. “Can you pick me up please?”

----

Fifteen minutes later you spot Eddie’s van approaching and you hop in as soon as he stops in front of you.

“Hi, Eddie.” You mumble, gratitude shining in your eyes. “Sorry you had to drive all the way here.”

“Buttercup, it’s no problem.” He tells you seriously, then hesitates to say his next words. “Did something happen?”

“My date,” You say the words with disgust. “Was actually a bet Derek made with his moronic friends, they showed up and paid him in front of me.”

“Wait, what?” Eddie shuts off the engine and turns to you, eyes wide and worried. When you shrug, looking out the window and feeling more than a little bit embarrassed, Eddie lets out a deep breath. “Okay, now I see why you didn’t call Harrington to pick you up.”

“Steve would have barged in there and…” You chuckle, no joy behind it. You’re still thinking about him. “But he’s most likely out on a date, that’s also why I didn’t call him. He wouldn’t have picked up.”

“Buttercup you’re not serious.” Eddie shakes his head in disbelief, starting the engine again and driving away from the curb. “You honestly think he went on a date?”

“Yeah.” You say, frowning. “That’s why I went out with Derek tonight in the first place. So I wouldn’t…”

“So you wouldn’t think about him having dinner with someone else?” Eddie asks, tone curious.

“Exactly.”

“Well, he’s been thinking about you being out on a date all night.” Your friend informs you with a quick look before his eyes turn back to the road.

“What?” You turn where you sit, eyes wide. That’s the last thing you would expect Steve to do. “You’re lying, Munson.”

Eddie shakes his head, “I’m not. Robin and I had to talk some sense into him, he wanted us to go to find you so we could keep an eye on you buttercup.”

You shake your head, trying to catch up with his words. “Steve barely cared about my date when I told him, Eddie.”

“He’s been tearing his hair out all night, waiting for you to call him once you got back.” Eddie shrugs, as if saying you figure out the rest.

“But why?” You ask him, mind reeling at the fact that no pretty girl had dinner or did anything else with him tonight.

Eddie smiles, brightly and mischievously as he gestures ahead. “How about you ask him yourself? It’s about time the two of you face the music.”

You glance to your right and find that Eddie’s making a turn towards Steve’s street. You want to tell Eddie to turn back, but find yourself unable to, you want to see him. There’s no one in the world that can give you as much comfort as Steve. The living room’s lights are on when Eddie parks in the driveway, and you can see a figure pacing back and forth. Steve.

“Go.” Eddie says gently with a nudge at your shoulder. “Go tell him the truth, buttercup.”

Your next breath gets stuck on your chest for a moment, and your hands turn ice cold. Tell him the truth? That you’re in love with him? That even without the best tonight would have been a disaster because he wasn’t there? Fear and nerves try to take a hold of you, you feel their hands grabbing at your shoulders, but you shrug them off. If what Eddie said is true…

“Okay.” You whisper, looking at Eddie and finding encouragement shining in his features. “Thank you, Eddie.”

Your friend squeezes your hand and nods. “Anytime, now go get him.”

With a nod of your own you get out of the van, shut the door, and walk towards Steve’s front door. Your hand trembles slightly when you ring the doorbell, and you’re quick to bring it back to your side and hide it under your cardigan’s sleeve. Footsteps follow the doorbell’s ring and a moment later Steve opens the door, surprised to see you. He’s wearing a simple white t-shirt, grey sweatpants, and socks. His hair is as messy as you imagined, but still perfect. The perfect boy for you; the only one.

“Hey Stevie.” You whisper, shoulders sagging in relief just from being near him. “You won’t guess what happened.”

“Babe.” Steve shakes his head, taking your hand and pulling into the house and away from the cold. He closes the door. “How’d you get here, I thought you went out tonight.”

“Eddie, drove me.” Your voice is quiet as you look into his worried brown eyes. A frown pulls his lips downwards, and you want nothing more than wipe it away with you thumb.

“Why didn’t you call me?” Steve asks, sounding hurt, but you shake your head and step towards him.

Your arms go around his waist and your face settles on his collarbone, a second later, Steve’s arms envelop you in a hug. You feel both your shoulders and Steve’s immediately lose tension; your body melts against his and a shuddering breath leaves your lips. Steve’s hands drift from your waist up your back until one of them settles in your hair, holding you close to him. “I knew that once you found out what happened, you’d want to break Derek’s nose.”

Steve tightens his hold on you, his face turning until you feel his breath on your neck. You’re sure that if his arms weren’t around you, your knees would have buckled for sure. “What did he do?”

“The date was a ruse.” You whisper, squeezing your eyes shut when your eyes begin to sting. “His friends bet that he couldn’t find a date for valentines day. They umm, they paid him in front of me.”

“What?” Steve’s hands move to your shoulders, and he takes a step back to look at you. His brown eyes are a mix of outrage and pain when he notices your unshed tears. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“And everything leading up to it was bad on its own too, you know?” You shake your head and blink your tears away. With a deep breath you step away from Steve and lean against the back of the sofa instead. “Because all I kept thinking about was you, Stevie.”

Steve’s eyes widen in surprise. “You thought about me?”

“Of course I did.” You whisper, pressing your lips together before continuing. “It was impossible not to, Steve. I wanted my date to be you, instead of him. I’ve always wanted it to be you.”

Steve shakes his head in disbelief, and you think you messed everything up only for a moment because he’s standing right in front of you the next. He opens his mouth to say something, but you press a finger to his lips, silencing him before you lose your nerve.

“I only said yes to go out with him because I thought you would have a date tonight.” You confess to him, looking into his eyes. “I didn’t want to stay at home and let the idea of you out with someone else break my heart. I wanted to forget about it but I’m too in love with you to stop thinking about you for a second.”

“I didn’t have a date tonight.” Steve says, his voice hushed between you.

“Oh…” Is all you can say, and it makes Steve smile softly.

“Some asshole asked the girl I wanted to be my Valentine before I could.” He takes a gentle hold of your face, pining you down with a lovestruck gaze that takes all the air from your lungs. You’re hypnotized by them, by the striking similarity to how you think your own look when you gaze at him. “So I stayed at home, thinking about her and wishing it was me that took her out to dinner.”

“Stevie.” You whisper, breathless at his confession and the way his hands settle on the couch, on either side of your hips. You’re looking up while he’s looking down, hearts hammering in your chests at the realization dawning between the two of you.

“All I could think about,” Steve starts, “was you. How I wanted to be the one you did all the cheesy valentine’s day things with. Every year is the same, but I could never tell you how I felt.”

You shake your head, “Neither could I… I thought you didn’t feel the same.”

“I do. I’m so in love with you I thought I was going to die of jealousy tonight.” Steve leans closer to you, his breath mingling with yours when he brushes his nose against your own. “You look so beautiful, by the way, give me a warning next time.”

His eyes are adoring as they roam your face, and one of his hands settles on your hips, his thumb drawing circles over the floral fabric. Your surprised face shifts to one full of love, every repressed feeling rushing to the surface, unconcealed for Steve to see. The growing smile on his face is confirmation enough that he does.

“Be mine.” Steve whispers, eyes shining with hope and longing as they gaze into yours. One of your hands moves up his chest until it settles on his jaw, you can feel his heart skipping the same beats as yours as all your unnecessary pining comes to an end. The two of you are on the same page now, and Steve though knows your answer he still yearns to hear it. His eyes close, and he leans closer, lips ghosting on your right cheek. “Be my valentine, be my girl.”

“Only if it’s forever, Harrington.” You whisper back, your eyes tearing up even as you smile.

Steve chuckles and leans back just enough to meet your gaze again. “Anything less than that wouldn’t be enough.”

You smile widely and the tears in your eyes break free, running down your cheeks as pure happiness floods your body. Steve smiles back and when you nod, he leans in to kiss you.

The first kiss is only a soft brush of lips, tentative and sweet with shuddering breath interchanged between you. When your eyes meet, the same thought is clear in them: I’ve wanted to do that for a long time, and it’s immediately followed by another kiss.

Steve kisses you like you’ve always wanted him to kiss you. As if reading your mind, as if knowing exactly what you want. One of his hands cradles your face and tilts your face slightly to find the perfect angle. His lips leave you for a moment and he runs the tip of his nose up the side of yours and down until he captures your lips again. They’re firm but gentle brushes, taking your top lip between his and letting go before his bottom lip brushes both of yours and he dives in to kiss you again. It’s like a tide, pushing and pulling, a playful thing that has you smiling while gripping his shirt, trying to find purchase on something as your heartbeat races. Steve’s teeth catch on your bottom lip every now and then, his tongue brushing the sting away; he does it again and again until a groan escapes him and he pulls away.

You don’t feel embarrassed when your lips chase his and he places a soft peck on them. Steve’s pupils are dark and his lips are a beautiful pink; swollen from all your kissing.

“As much as I want to continue this, and we can later,” Steve starts, getting lost in thought when his lips drift down to your mouth again. “I also know you wanted to do all the corny Valentine’s Day stuff today.”

“Hmmm yes I did.” You smile at him, disastrous date already forgotten.

“As your boyfriend, and valentine.” Steve says proudly, his smile wrinkling the corners of his eyes. “I think a date is in order.”

You feel yourself glow from within, heart happier than it’s ever been. “What do you have in mind?”

“I have snacks and ice cream.” Steve says, his fingers ghosting against the skin of your cheek before he reaches for you hand. He keeps talking as he pulls you towards the kitchen. “And there’s a couple of those cheesy romantic movies you like to watch.”

“That we like to watch.” You giggle at the eye roll he gives you, full of fondness.

“I figure that’d be a nice date, don’t you?” He asks, voice hopeful, as if you would ever say no to him.

“It sounds perfect.” You agree with a nod, and a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll go find the VHS’s and you get the snacks. I’m starving I didn’t eat anything at Enzo’s.”

“Oh, remind me where this Derek guy lives again. Just to know...”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington blurb

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vanwritesfan-fiction · 9 months

Text

Coming Home to You

Pairings: Husband!Dad!Travis Kelce x Wife!Mom!Reader

Words: 926

Warnings: None, just cute family dynamics

“Mama?” Bubba looked up at you with sleepy eyes, still waking up as he ate his breakfast at the kitchen island. Savannah was in her highchair, apple sauce over her face and in her hair. “Yes, Bubs?” You walked over to Bubba, placing a kiss on his messy curls. “Where’s Daddy? I wanna watch Paw Patrol with him?”

Over the last couple of months, shortly after Bubba turned four, he started to notice that Travis wasn’t around a lot during the season, but still didn’t grasp why. He didn’t understand why Daddy didn’t come home after every game. “He’s on a trip, but he’s coming home tomorrow. When you wake up, he’ll be here.” Bubba immediately started to tear up, his lip pushed out in a pout. “Come here baby,” you helped him out of his chair, your pregnant belly making it difficult to hold your first baby like you wanted to. You grabbed Savannah from her highchair and led Bubba to the living room.

You placed Sav in her play pen, settling on the couch with Bubba. “I’ll watch Paw Patrol with you, we can spend the whole day together.” You wiped the tears from Alex’s face, his little sniffles and stuffy nose breaking your heart. You snuggled up under a blanket together, and when you were sure Bubba’s attention was on the TV, you pulled out your phone to text Travis:

Y/N: Hey baby, you busy?

Travis: No, we’re just resting in the hotel

Y/N: Everything ok? Nervous for tonight?

Travis: Yes, going against the Patriots sucks

Y/N: You got this babe

Travis: Thanks baby. Miss you so much

Y/N: Bub is missing you so bad today, he’s been crying all morning

Travis: Poor little man, he’s having a hard time every away game

Y/N: Do me a favor, FT me in a couple min, he’d love to see you

Travis: Alright, will do baby

Y/N: Can’t wait to see you tomorrow 😘😘

About five minutes later your phone rang, Travis’ number popping up. “Look Bubba, its daddy!” Bubba’s face lit up, grabbing the phone from you.

“Hi Daddy!” Alex was greeting Travis before his face was even on the screen. “Hey Bubs, what are you doing?” Alex adjusted so he was sitting on his bottom on the couch. “Watching Paw Patrol with mama.” Travis chuckled, “Is Rebble in this episode?” “His name is Rubble, Daddy. You’re silly!” “You’re right baby. Daddy got his name wrong.” “Are you coming home soon?” You sighed, knowing this wasn’t going to end well. “Not today, baby, Daddy is playing football tonight, but I’ll be home tomorrow.” “Can we watch you play?”

“We can watch on the TV tonight”, you fixed his shirt that had gotten twisted while he was playing. “We can get pizza!” Bubba got excited at the thought of pizza. “I need you to cheer me on so that I can win tonight, Alex” “I will, Daddy, I love you.” You could hear Travis’ smile through the phone, “I love you too Bud.” Alex hands the phone back to you, running to his room in a much better mood. “Thanks baby, love you.” “My other child giving you trouble?” You rubbed your belly, laughing to yourself. “Actually no, unless you count the gas.” “I do, let me know if I need to give her a talkin’ to. I gotta go, see you tomorrow.”

The night went pretty smoothly, Alex cheering for Travis, until he fell asleep on the couch during the 2nd quarter. A four-year-old just can’t hang. The next morning, you woke up to the sound of the garage opening. You waddled downstairs to greet Travis, meeting him at the garage door. “What are you doing up?” Travis dropped his bags on the ground by the door. You glanced at the clock on the wall; it was only 5:30AM. “I can’t sleep, this baby is using my bladder as a punching bag.” Travis pulled you in for a kiss, his hands finding your belly. “Come on, we probably have 30 minutes before the kids wake up.” You pulled Travis with you up to the bedroom, Travis throwing his body on the bed with a groan. You escaped to the bathroom, joining Travis in the bed when you were done. You sat back on your haunches, leaning on the propped-up pillows. “Give me the rundown, any injuries?” “Not this time, my shoulder is still bothering me though. C’mere.” Travis pulled you into his side, his arm around your back, careful of your belly. You pulled him in for a kiss, his return half-hearted because he was exhausted. “Baby, you don’t know how much I want to, but I am so tired right now.” You ran your hand over Travis’ hair, mentally making a note to schedule a haircut for him. You patted his chest as he closed his eyes. You had about five minutes together in peace and quiet before you heard the door creak open, Bubba’s tiny head poking through.

“Daddy!” Alex jumps on the bed, landing on Travis’ chest, Travis letting out a grunt. Alex wrapped his arms around Travis, his little arms barely making it around his broad chest. “You must have been cheering really good, because we won.” “I was, mama had to tell me to quiet down.” Travis laughed, rubbing Alex’s back. Travis was drifting off to sleep, unable to keep his eyes open. “Come on Alex, let’s get breakfast and let Daddy sleep.” You and Alex woke up Savannah and went downstairs, Travis sleeping for the next four hours.

#travis kelce fluff #travis kelce fic #travis kelce imagine #travis kelce x reader #travis kelce #traviskelce #nfl fan fic #nfl fic #nfl fluff #nfl imagine

511 notes · View notes

riordanness · 5 months

Text

tolerate it — [p.mellark]

wordcount: 3.9K

warnings: slight death mentions, but bro it’s the hunger games what did you reallllllly expect

requested: yes!! @ornellastreet <33

I didn’t think it was possible for my mood to get worse after being reaped, but hearing his name called out over the loudspeaker definitely made me feel like hitting something.

“Peeta Mellark!” The chipper lady, Effie, is way over the top about all this. I mean, I get that it’s her job and all, but we’re kids, fighting to the death. We aren’t lottery winners or something.

I watch as the all too familiar blond boy’s face goes pale, then stare as he slowly makes his way towards the platform, toward me. He doesn’t look me in the eyes at first, just simply takes his place beside Effie.

“We have our tributes!” Effie squeals excitedly. “Now, shake hands, you two.”

Great. I clench my jaw as I hold my hand out to Peeta. He hesitates for just a second, but when he sees my expression, he quickly shakes my hand.

“Excellent!” Effie claps, and I feel the ridiculous urge to slap her wig off.

“Come along, both of you.” Effie waves us into the back rooms of the Justice Building. As I follow her and Peeta, I glance back over my shoulder, at what is probably my last look at home.

I sit beside Peeta, my fingers tracing the soft blue velvet of the couches in this ridiculously extravagant train car. I stare out the window, watching the world flash by faster and faster, till I get dizzy and have to stop. Then I stare at the floor.

Every part of me is aware of the boy only a few inches away. If I leaned even slightly, I would be brushing shoulders with him.

After noticing this, I quickly lean the other direction. I rest my hot forehead against the cool glass window, close my eyes, and try to pretend this is all a dream.

“Well, well, well.” A drawling male voice comes from somewhere above me, and I wake with a start. I must’ve fallen asleep in my chair, which almost impresses me because I was sure I’d been too scared to sleep.

I squint up and recognise Haymitch, the only living victor of District Twelve. He had a glass of alcohol in his left hand, and is waving the other hand at me. “Up, up!” he insists.

I get to my feet uncertainly, glancing around for a sign of Peeta.

“The boy’s already gone,” Haymitch says. “We’re arrived.”

“Arrived?” I ask. “Where?”

He spreads his hands, like ‘are you stupid?’. “The Capitol, sweetheart. Now come on. Everyone’s waiting for you.”

Honestly? It wasn’t how I’d pictured it. I haven’t ever seen much of the Capitol, but the image in my head was way off. Everything was way more extravagant and expensive and ridiculous than I could ever have imagined.

We’ve been here almost two days now. Last night was the parade, where me and Peeta were basically lit on fire and forced to hold hands while all the Capitol citizens stared at us like we were circus animals. I hated every second of it.

I stand now in my room, on Floor 12 of this stupid tribute apartment complex. I stare out the windows, watching the Capitol go by. My fingers fidget with the satin sleeve of my new top, the most fancy thing I’ve worn to date.

I glance at the clock on the wall, and remember I’d better get going to dinner. Effie, Haymitch, Peeta, and apparently our stylists will all be waiting for me.

I hurry.

At the table, I’m forced to sit beside Peeta, much to my annoyance. He leaves me alone, though, which is more than I can say about Effie, who is peppering me with questions. I answer as little as I can, refusing to give this woman any information worth hearing.

“So.” My stylist, Cinna, gives me a smile. He’s nicer than I thought any Capitol people were capable of, but I didn’t exactly like him, not yet. “Ready for your interview tomorrow?”

“No.”

“I have your outfit ready to go. You’ll prepare with Haymitch and Effie all day, till four, then you’re mine. I’ll make you gorgeous.”

“Okay.”

Effie makes an exasperated sound in her throat. “Can’t you just try to be excited?”

I stare at her, dumbfounded. I can’t believe this. “What, excited to die?” I fake an extremely over exaggerated smile. “I can’t wait!”

Peeta kind of laughs, then immediately tries to hide it with a cough and a glass of water.

I ignore him. I’ve become pretty good at that.

Haymitch smirks. Effie sighs. Cinna gives me a knowing little wink, and Peeta’s stylist, Portia, doesn’t look at me.

I sigh and shove my chair from the table. “Night,” I announce, and storm to my room. I collapse instantly into my bed, curl into a ball, and let the tears come. I fall asleep like that, crying for home, for safety, for comfort.

The next morning, I’m woken by Effie’s ridiculous ‘It’s going to be a big, big, big day!’ The entire day sucks from that point onwards.

Both Haymitch and Effie are at their wits ends with what to do with me during my interview.

Effie has me first, and for the first hour, she keeps her optimistic outlook on my potential. Two sarcastic words from me and fifty-seven minutes later, she looks ready to wring my neck then and there. She hands me over to Haymitch looking ready to cry. I have a tiny bit of satisfaction from that, I’ll admit.

Haymitch looks, I don’t know, preoccupied, the entire of our session. Everytime I say anything, he seems almost jumpy. Eventually I give up and sit there in silence until he lets me go. I have a shower per Cinna’s instructions and wait for him in my room.

I have to admit, Cinna is a genius. His handiwork is incredible. I stand in front of the mirror and smooth my skirts, a hint of my smile on my face.

Luxurious clothing, especially dresses, were never something I even thought of back in Twelve. But it felt pretty damn good to wear one.

The dress is gold, with little pockets of white and yellow and orange and red and silver and black, like fire. When I move, it’s almost like flames are flicking over me.

“This is amazing, Cinna,” I tell him. “Thank you for making me feel pretty tonight.”

Cinna gives me a hug, and a kiss on the forehead. “I’m not allowed to bet,” he says in reply, “but if I could, I’d bet on you.”

This time, I really do smile.

I officially want to die then and there the instant I’m up on that brightly lit stage. I have no idea what to say, or how to act, and I fumble my way through the entire interview. Even Caesar Flickerman, who never seems to run out of funny things to say; who always knows how to keep the conversation flowing effortlessly, is at his wits end with me. It seems to be my only talent; making people exasperated at me.

I leave the stage to the quietest round of applause the world has ever known.

I pass Peeta in the hall, and he gives me the smallest look of acknowledgement. I wish we could just stop pretending to be friends. Nothing has ever hurt me as much as Peeta Mellark has, and I don’t know how to forgive him for it. There’s a tiny part of me that’s almost glad we're going into the Hunger Games. No matter how it goes, I won’t ever have to deal with Peeta again after this.

I go to stand beside Haymitch and Effie, and prepare to watch Peeta’s interview. I wonder what he will talk about.

I kind of feel annoyed at him the longer the interaction goes on. He and Caesar bounce effortlessly off each other, talking and joking about… showers? Anyway, the crowd seems to love it.

Then, everything changes.

Caesar leans in to Peeta conspiratorially. “So, Peeta,” he says in a whisper, but directly into the microphone of course. “Is there a special girl back home?”

“Uh, yeah, Caesar, there is.” Peeta looks a little red at the confession.

I have to resist the urge to roll my eyes. We’re about to be slaughtered, and they’re discussing crushes? How ridiculous is that?

“Oh do tell.” Caesar sounds more like a teenage girl than a grown man. “We’d love to hear about her.”

Peeta clears his throat, and looks uncomfortably at the cameras. From my position inside, it’s like he’s staring right at me.

I quickly look away.

“Well,” Peeta begins, “she’s amazing. She’s one of the best people I’ve ever known, and I stuffed it up with her once. I’ve never forgiven myself for that.”

I glance at the screen uncertainly.

Peeta stares right back out at me. “I’m sorry for what I did. I want to do everything in my power to fix it. I promise. I love you.”

Caesar makes a squealing noise. “How adorable!” he exclaims. “You’ll have to get back to District 12 and she’ll have to forgive you.”

Peeta laughs uncomfortably. “That wouldn’t work, in my case.”

“And why not?”

“Because…” Peeta shifts in his seat. “Because she came here with me.”

I remember very little of the aftermath of Peeta’s comment. I know a flash of fury, disbelief, and shock ran through me at once. I know I dashed off to my room. I know I got out of my insane getup and collapsed into bed. I know I wanted to hit Peeta Mellark for that comment.

But after that, I know nothing.

I wake the next morning feeling sick to my stomach. I have a headache, my body feels stiff, and I’m still irrationally angry at Peeta. Well, it’s not irrational. It’s perfectly fine to hate him for what he did. And ‘apologising’ on live tv? It was like a sick joke.

I slowly get dressed in comfy pants and a loose, light blue blouse. I tie my hair up in a ponytail, and head for breakfast.

Everyone else is already there, But I ignore them all, pile my plate with as much food as I can, and sit myself down on the floor as far as possible from Peeta.

Effie huffs. “Good morning to you too, young lady.”

I answer by shoving a bread roll into my mouth whole.

“Ugh!” Effie is more than annoyed with me, but when I catch Haymitch’s eye by accident, he has a small smirk playing at his mouth, so I figure it’s not all bad.

“Hey, y/n,” Peeta tries.

I don’t reply, don’t even acknowledge him. I’m still so angry, so hurt from all those months ago. His words from back then mix with the ones from last night in my head, giving me a headache to match my heartbreak.

“You’re not… I’m sorry… I stuffed up… she’s amazing… I don’t want to… she came here with me… you mean nothing to me… not like that, y/n… I love you…”

I squeeze my eyes shut tight, trying to block it all out. All the memories.

It was a dark, depressing day. The weather sucked, but I guess that just meant it matched the rest of District Twelve.

I was heading home after school, and trying to work up my courage to do something I’d wanted to do for years.

I was going to tell Peeta Mellark that I loved him.

Everyone knew where he lived. The bakery was a pretty, inviting little place. The window was always filled with cakes, all decorated by Peeta himself.

I skipped up the front steps, knocking twice quickly on the dark blue painted door.

A woman answered, Peeta’s mother. “Hello.”

“Hi!” I pretended not to notice her quick glance at my less-than-clean dress, or my coal-covered boots and hair. I knew I wasn't as rich as their family. I wasn’t ashamed, but her look made me sad.

“I’m here to see Peeta,” I told her.

“Ah.” She narrowed her eyes at me, then disappeared. I hear hushed voices, but don’t try to listen in on the conversation.

I just stood there and waited. Soon, Peeta appeared in the doorway. “Hey, y/n,” he says uncertainly.

“Hey.” I decided to just say it—get it over with as quickly as possible. “I like you, Peeta. Like, like, like you.”

Peeta blinked at me, stunned. “You… oh.”

I chewed my lip, suddenly feeling like this was a horrible, horrible mistake. I shouldn’t have come. I should’ve just pretended I wasn’t in love with him.

Peeta’s eyes looked conflicted, hurt, despairing. But his words, and his tone, are as hard and cold as ice. “I don’t like you. Not like that, y/n. You… you’re not… anything to me. Just a friend, an acquaintance even. You’re worth nothing to me behind that.”

I physically felt the pain of my heart breaking. I wanted to cry, run, hit something.

“Oh.” I managed. “That’s… that’s cool.” I turned on my heel and ran all the way home.

It’s been over a year since Peeta Mellark broke my heart, and I’ve never gotten over it. Even now, eating my breakfast, knowing we are both probably likely to die in the arena, I still can’t find it in myself to forgive him.

I don’t believe his little stunt last night. It was for the cameras, to make a statement and gain sponsors. He doesn’t love me. He made that pretty damn clear a year ago.

I slam my plate on the ground so hard it cracks in two. A mute, red-haired girl rushes over to help me clean it. I apologise to her, but I can’t stay in this room for a moment longer. I feel trapped, like I can’t breathe.

I find my way to an out of the way part of our complex, sitting against the wall in a little window alcove. I’m overlooking the Capitol central, the citizens milling about in their celebratory days before the Hunger Games.

I feel sick at the sight.

How can they be so enraptured by the horror that is the games? How can they find actual joy and pleasure watching kids die?

“Hey.”

I start, and turn, and see Peeta a few steps away from me.

“Hi,” I say back, a little stiffly.

He gestures at the ground beside me, and I nod. He gently sits down, looking slightly nervous.

“What’s up?” I say dully.

“Uh—nothing much, thanks.”

“What are you doing here?” I have no patience for small talk, especially not now.

Peeta licks his lips and doesn’t meet my eyes. “I actually came to apologise.”

I raise an eyebrow, surprised. “As opposed to your apology earlier?”

Peeta grimaces. “I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. Haymitch made me promise not to—and, I guess I just didn’t stop to think how you’d feel.”

I look away, trying to ignore the sudden lump in my throat. “Yeah, well.”

“I’m also here to tell you the plan,” Peeta adds.

My gaze snaps back to him. “The plan?” I ask incredulously.

He nods. “This… star crossed lovers angle is really good for getting sponsors. It’ll help us gain friends in the Capitol—people who will want to help us.”

“Because it’s my goal in life to be besties with the Capitol,” I say flatly, and Peeta almost cracks a smile.

“If it’ll help to keep you alive, it is your goal.”

I shrug. “Whatever. What’s this plan?”

“Act like we’re in love.”

I stare at him for a second, then realise he’s dead serious. I deflate a little, but I know deep down he has a point. We need sponsors if we want to have any chance at all of winning the Games.

“Okay,” I say finally. “Sure. Let’s do it.”

Training goes for three days, and it mostly sucks. I have zero talents, apparently, except for differentiating deadly plants from safe ones. Oh, I can also tie some knots. Not super helpful. I can’t throw a knife, shoot a bow, lift anything heavier than a couple kilos, or climb ropes very well.

As the third day comes to an end, I feel incredibly useless, and exceptionally hopeless. I’m going to be dead in a day, I can almost feel it.

Peeta actually had a pretty good chance. He’s very strong, and can lift even the heaviest of weights. He’s also a whiz at camouflage and starting fires. All bakery skills, I’ll wager.

As per Haymitch’s instructions, we stick together throughout the training, steering clear of the other tributes. We also touch whenever possible, holding hands, hugging, me letting Peeta touch my hair.

It’s all rather infuriating to me, but if it might help to keep Peeta alive for longer, then whatever. He needs to win. He needs to stay alive and get home to his family.

It’s finally the night before the Games, and to say I was completely terrified would be the absolute truth. I lie awake, goosebumps everywhere. I’m so scared I couldn’t eat anything at dinner, even though I know I should be trying to get up my strength. Who knows how long it might be before I can eat again.

I might be starving in that arena, or dehydrated, or freezing to death. Who knows? Maybe I’ll die right away, in the initial bloodbath.

I sit up in bed, sick of tossing and turning. I climb out, and head out my bedroom door. Surprisingly, it’s not locked. I guess they do have cameras literally everywhere, so they’d know if I was actually trying to escape. Which I’m not. That would be pointless. I’m going to die anyway.

Across the hall is Peeta’s room, and without thinking, I knock on his door. He opens it a second later, and his brow crunches together at the sight of me.

“Y/n?” he asks. “What are you—?”

“Can I come in?” I’m suddenly awkward, realising how weird this is.

Peeta nods quickly. “Yeah, yeah. Come in, please.” He steps aside and lets me pass. His room is indentical to mine.

I walk over to his bed and sit myself down on the silkily sheets. “Can I stay in here tonight?” I ask, not looking at Peeta.

I hear his bed creak beneath me as he sits too. “Yeah, ‘course you can.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then he adds, in a much softer voice, “Anytime.”

I wake up to the sun shining into the room, and for a moment, I forget entirely where I am, and what’s about to happen. I just sink into the pillows and close my eyes.

Then, I remember. The Games are today.

“Hey, you,” a voice says behind me, and I roll over in surprise. Peeta.

“Morning,” I say back, for some reason grateful he’s here. Having a familiar face to wake up to is much nicer than rising alone, facing the Games all by myself.

“Todays the day, huh?” Peeta asks, sitting up and frowning a little.

“Guess so,” I reply, rolling back over to stare at the ceiling. “I don’t want to get up.”

Peeta laughs, and it’s a pretty sound. Too pretty for such an awful day.

There’s a knock on our door, and Effie’s voice filters through: “Het up you two, it’s going to be a big, big, big day!”

“How does she know I'm here?” I ask, sitting up straight.

Peeta shrugs. “The Capitol has a crap ton of cameras, y/n.”

I roll my eyes in annoyance. Do they really need to know every single thing about us, before we die? It’s all so ridiculous I almost have to laugh.

“I’d better go get ready and stuff,” I tell him, sliding out of his bed. “Thanks for letting me stay here last night.”

Peeta looks at me for a second, like he’s going to say something big, but just replies with, “See you in the arena.”

“Good luck.” And I’m gone.

“Ten seconds til launch.”

I take a deep breath, feel Cinna’s reassuring squeeze on my shoulder, and I step into the glass tube that will be taking me up into the arena.

“Bye, Cinna,” I half whisper. “Thank you for everything.”

He gives me a smile, that somehow is genuinely caring. “Good luck, my dear girl.”

Something inside the tube clicks, and it slides shut, locking me into my fate. It begins to slowly rise, and so does my anxiety. I come completely out of the tube, and bright, blazing sunlight temporarily blinds me. When I can see again, my throat squeezes in terror and anticipation. All of us are the same distance apart, standing on little pods that I know we can’t step off of without being blown to the sky.

In the middle of the tribute circle is a metal cornucopia, with various weapons and supplies arranged around it, trying to tempt us. I remember Haymitch’s advice to leave it all alone and just run to the woods.

That’s when I remember Peeta. I glance left, seeing a girl from District Seven, I think, who’s also looking in my direction. Beyond her is a tall, dark boy I’ve never really paid attention to other than to get out of his way. I think his name is Thresh.

I squint, frantically trying to locate Peeta. I finally spot him, the farthest tribute I can see to my right. He’s already got his eyes on me, and is shaking his head. Why? What’s he trying to tell me?

Suddenly, the bell is sounding, and there’s a flash of movement as the tributes all simultaneously leave their pedestals, most heading right for the cornucopia. I freeze, my body not reacting at all. I force myself to move, running in just close enough to snatch up a small blue backpack, and then I sprint in Peeta’s direction. I just manage to catch a glimpse of him disappearing into the woods, so I head that way.

About an hour later, I still haven’t caught up to Peeta, or seen any other tributes. Sounds of the bloodbath behind me have faded away now, and nothing but the occasional animal or bird or wind sounds now echo through the forest.

It would almost be peaceful, if I wasn’t where I was.

Then, out of absolutely nowhere, someone grabs my arm from behind. I let out a scream, and a hand slaps over my mouth. I struggle, but I’m not strong at the best of times.

“Calm down!” It’s Peeta’s voice. “It’s just me, y/n, jeez.”

I twist him off me and whirl to face him. My glare is almost enough to murder him right then and there. “Don’t scare me like that!” I hiss. “You idiot!” I hit him, half out of the fear bubbling inside of me and half out of relief he’s here and alive and with me.

“Sorry, my love,” Peeta replies, cracking a flirtatious smile. “I won’t do it again.”

I narrow my eyes at him, half annoyed and half embarrassed at how much relief is flooding inside of me at this sight of him, alive and well and here.

“Allies?” Peeta asks.

A laugh bubbles up, and surprises both of us. Peeta laughs too, but then shushes me. “Let’s not get killed just yet, okay?” he suggests. “I’d like to hang out with the love of my life first.”

And for some reason, I don’t even disagree.

#peeta mellark #peeta mellark fanfic #peeta mellark x reader #the hunger games #hunger games #thg #fanfiction #fanfic #x reader #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark x reader fanfiction #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games fanfic #suzanne collins #coriolanus snow #lucy gray baird

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wavelikewhat · 11 months

Text

Heartstrings

Pairing: Producer!Woozi x Producer!Reader (she/her pronouns) Summary: You help Jihoon meet an unexpected deadline for a song and he wonders why he can’t stop thinking about you. Luckily his members nudge him toward the answer. Wordcount: 4.5k Content notes: none Genre/themes/appearances: fluff, strangers to lovers, idol/non-idol, music talk, Hoshi meddling, Seungcheol interrogating, Jeonghan snooping

A/N: So this is technically a fanfic for two fanfics: when I read i look good on you by @seungkwansphd I needed a backstory for them immediately. Then last week I read Live by @wondernus and it felt like it fit into my headcanon, so my mind started filling out how they met and got back together and began a public relationship… So here I am posting my first Woozi fic that is a fake prequel to those two, in a way? Please read those because they are so short and so sweet and will have your imagination (and heart) racing! This story is about how this couple gets together :)

“Ya! Soonyoung!” Jihoon called out.

Soonyoung abruptly stopped dancing and turned around, surprised to see Jihoon in his practice room. “What are you doing here?”

Jihoon got straight to the point, as always. “Do you have the number of the producer who wrote the song you did with Youngji?” he asked as he walked toward Soonyoung at the mirrored wall.

Soonyoung’s eyes widened. “Y/N? Why do you need her number at…” He glanced up at the clock on the wall above the mirrors and added, “11:45 at night?”

Jihoon sighed, exasperated that this ‘quick question’ was turning into a full blown conversation. “I have to finish that song featuring a woman’s vocals. The company wants to hear it tomorrow, but I need someone who can sing on the demo. They’ll have a hard time picturing a woman singing it if I sing it.”

Soonyoung nodded slowly. “That makes sense. Y/N sang the guide for that song. Yes, I have her number.” He walked over to his bag and fished out his phone. “Sent.”

Jihoon’s phone buzzed in his hand, and he looked down to see a notification from Soonyoung. “Thanks.” He turned and headed out of the room.

Soonyoung watched the door close, shrugged, and walked back to the mirrors to practice.

...

[Jihoon - Universe Factory] 23:49 - This is Jihoon, Soonyoung gave me your number. Would you be able to sing on a demo for me tonight? I’m working on a song with a woman’s vocals and the company wants to hear it tomorrow.

[Y/N] 23:50 - Did you give someone my number?

[Hoshi] 23:50 - Woozi asked me for it. Did he text you?

[Y/N] 23:50 - He did, but I had to make sure it was real

[Hoshi] 23:50 - LOL!

[Y/N - Bespoke Records] 23:51 - Hi! I’m just finishing up at my studio. I can definitely help.

[Jihoon - Universe Factory] 23:51- Any chance you could come to my studio tonight then?

[Y/N - Bespoke Records] 23:52 - Sure, send me the location.

...

You stared at your phone in shock. There is no way THE Woozi (and he called himself JIHOON?! like you were actual people who knew each other?) just asked you for help at midnight on a Tuesday. You honestly almost said yes even before your brain had a brief moment of sanity and directed you to check with Hoshi.

When Woozi asked you to come to his studio you completely froze, re-entering reality only long enough to let him know you could be there. You’d seen clips of him working at the studio and it seemed like such a cool place. You couldn't believe you were really about to go inside.

Woozi (Jihoon, you reminded yourself) even sent a company car to pick you up, which was very thoughtful of him. Then again, you were doing him a huge favor by agreeing to meet him at midnight on a Tuesday. He was lucky you were a night owl. The least he could do was give you a free ride.

All throughout the ride to his studio from yours, you felt like you should be manically texting someone about it, but you were somewhat frozen in shock. You sent a message to your roommate letting them know that you were staying out late to work with another producer, and you gave them the address for “Jihoon’s studio” and made sure location sharing was still turned on for your phone. (Safety first.) You did this frequently enough that they easily replied they'd keep their ringer on and check on you in the morning to make sure you made it back.

You stared out the window as buildings and brightly lit late-night restaurants flashed by. Suddenly, you realized, I am literally living my dream at this exact moment. You lived in Seoul working as a music producer, you had an amazing roommate you loved, you had fun meeting and collaborating with other producers in the business, and you worked on several very successful songs. And now you were about to meet one of the most successful producers in the world. Unreal.

The car arrived at what looked like an average gray building after a 15 minute ride from your studio. The subway entrance across the street told you the building was only one stop away from your apartment on the subway line you rode to work.

A security guard at the entrance let you in and pointed out the correct elevator. As the elevator doors closed, you heard him on the phone with Jihoon, letting him know you arrived. When the doors opened, you didn’t even have to wander around looking for the right room. Jihoon stood outside one of the doorways and nodded quickly before heading back into a room halfway down the hall.

You took a deep breath and started toward the studio. You had butterflies in your stomach. You didn't follow the group closely, yet among the members you’d always felt particularly drawn to Jihoon, not just for his looks (because he was so handsome you could barely believe it) but for his mind. This was an amazing once in a lifetime opportunity to work with such a talented producer.

When you walked into the studio, it was exactly as it looked in the clips you saw online. He was sitting at a computer and beside him was an empty chair. On the desk were big headphones and a microphone that were both plugged into his system. You’d only seen this microphone model online, and your excitement grew at the chance of getting to use it.

“Thanks for coming over,” Jihoon said as you walked to his desk. “I had a busy schedule today so I didn’t find out until an hour ago that they wanted it so fast.”

“Happy to help. I’m glad you thought of me.” At that moment, he looked up and met your eyes. His gaze was intense and his eyes seemed to stare into you. Maybe this was his work mode.

Shake it off, you told yourself, dropping your bag under the desk and sitting down. Be professional.

Jihoon played the ballad for you a few times and explained the concept. He sent you the lyrics so you could scroll through on your phone and follow along. You sang along under your breath, shoulders bobbing to the beat. The song was sure to be a hit, but he was correct that it was hard to imagine a woman featuring on the song with his (absolutely incredible) vocals on the demo.

“Are you ready to record?” Jihoon asked.

You nodded. You were never nervous the first time you sang something. It was like making pancakes: the first one didn’t count. That was your personal rule. You carefully put on the headphones and settled the microphone in front of you where you liked it.

You sang the lyrics exactly as written with the same vocalization he used in his version. A few times, your tongue twisted over the words. Your gut told you it wasn’t your singing style that was the issue. It felt like the sounds of those particular words didn’t fit those specific bars. As Jihoon played it back for you, you settled in to listen but you still felt some of the lyrics weren’t aligned with the song’s concept or sound.

Jihoon tilted his head and looked at you. It looked like he was calculating something. “What are you thinking?” he asked, turning his chair to face you fully.

You hesitated for a moment, but this was work. Jihoon was looking for your professional opinion as a songwriter. He obviously heard the demos you’d sent Hoshi back when you wrote a song for him and Youngji, and Jihoon liked your voice enough to ask for it on his demo. So this was definitely about work.

“I think a few of the lyrics need to be changed.” You scrolled to the first spot on your phone and pointed. “Right here, these three syllables are clashing against the musical phrasing underneath. You should do two syllables with an elongated vowel.”

Jihoon nodded slowly. “I know what you mean. What about ‘only’ or ‘maybe’ in that spot?” He looked at the lyrics on your phone and sang that section a few times to test out both options. You nodded along, feeling the rhythm of the lyrics.

“Maybe. It fits the concept of the song better.”

“I agree. What else?”

As you pointed out a few other suggestions, you found yourself much more comfortable working with him than you expected. Sometimes when you met some of the bigger producers for the first time, you felt too starstruck to make any changes to their work. But something about working alone in the quiet studio with Jihoon made your typical unease disappear. His presence filled the room, but his questions were clear and direct and you always knew exactly what he was asking.

Ten minutes later, Jihoon started a second recording, this time with the new lyrics. Despite the late hour, your voice felt strong and your mouth formed every word exactly as you intended. When you finished singing and took off the headphones, Jihoon’s eyes sparkled at you before he spoke. You felt it, too. This was it. You wouldn’t need to lay another track.

“Ready to hear it?” he asked, looking back at the computer and not addressing the fact that you both knew it was going to be perfect. You could hear the note of anticipation in his voice.

“Yes.”

A broad smile stretched across your face as you listened to the entire song. Afterwards, Jihoon turned to you with his phone in hand.

“Send me your agency’s contact information and the email address for the legal department. I need the KOMCA registration details so I can list your name in the credits.”

And just like that, you officially collaborated on a song with Universe Factory.

...

“Did you end up recording with Y/N?” Soonyoung asked Jihoon as they walked back to the practice room holding fresh iced Americanos.

“She came over that night and recorded the demo,” Jihoon replied, heading up a staircase.

Soonyoung’s eyes bugged out of his head and he stumbled on a step. He grabbed the railing to catch himself. “That night? It was the middle of the night!”

Jihoon shrugged. “She said she could.”

“What did you do together?” Soonyoung asked suspiciously.

“What do you mean? We recorded the song.”

“That’s it?”

“What else would we do? She helped with the lyrics and I set it up to give her writing credits.”

“Really?”

“Of course I did. She made the song better.”

Soonyoung watched Jihoon out of the corner of his eye. That was one of the nicest things Jihoon had ever said about anyone. Soonyoung took another sip of his coffee, his mind racing as he calculated a hundred algorithms at once. This whole situation was pretty unusual. But maybe, just maybe, his suspicion about Jihoon was correct.

“When are you seeing her again?” Soonyoung asked casually after they reached the top of the steps.

Jihoon cocked his head, thinking. “Maybe I’ll invite her to the recording. She would probably like that.”

Again, Soonyoung stumbled over his own two feet out of shock that Jihoon was considering someone’s feelings, and it wasn’t someone he’d known for a decade. And he didn’t always consider the feelings of members he knew for that long.

“Aren’t you going to buy dinner to thank her?” Soonyoung suggested.

“Is that necessary?”

“It would be the professional thing to do. Wouldn’t you do that if you worked with a guy? And Y/N really helped you meet your deadline.”

Jihoon thought carefully about the suggestion as they approached the door to the practice room. “You’re right. I should treat her to dinner. I’ll send her a message when we’re done.”

“I’ll remind you!” Soonyoung exclaimed enthusiastically.

...

Late at night a few days later, you walked up the hill to your apartment, completely lost in thought. You just finished dinner with Jihoon, and sharing the meal felt as comfortable as when you were recording in his studio last week.

After recording the demo together, he coordinated with your agency to make sure your credits appeared properly on the new song. You also had to sign an NDA about the song, studio location, and spending time with Jihoon. I guess it goes with the territory, you thought to yourself as you signed it.

During dinner, Jihoon explained the rushed deadline for the demo was because the song would be an OST for a drama starring one of the hottest actors in the country and the drama producers wanted to hear the song. Of course, they loved it and approved it.

It was hard to believe you worked with Jihoon on a song that Dokyeom was about to sing for a highly anticipated drama. It was even wilder that *Woozi* was saved in your phone simply as Jihoon, as if he was just another producer you worked with. And you were so surprised when he offered to buy you a meal to thank you. You should be the one thanking him!

But the simple meal was delicious and the quiet dinner in the small family-run restaurant near his studio (and near your apartment, but he didn't need to know that) was really nice. The owners seemed to know him well and treated him as a son. You knew you would remember the evening fondly.

Conversation mostly focused on work, but when Jihoon learned where you went to college for music production, it turned out you had learned from his mentors. He shared some genuinely entertaining stories from when he was starting to learn production software and recording tools.

It all made him more… real, and less of a person you just saw in videos on your phone. You sort of couldn't stop thinking about him, and as you walked up the steps leading to your apartment building, you found yourself mentally scrolling through all your draft songs to see if he might want to work on one with you.

...

[Jihoon] 21:09 - Would you be interested in coming to Dokyeom’s recording on Tuesday?

[Y/N] 21:15 - I would love that!

...

Through the glass of the recording booth, Jihoon watched you chatting with Dokyeom like you were old friends. He felt his stomach twist but couldn't figure out why.

Dokyeom had convinced you to record one track where you sang with him, even though they had a famous singer scheduled to record that verse tomorrow. So there you were, giggling with Dokyeom in the booth.

"Ready?" Jihoon asked over the booth speakers. He watched you and Dokyeom giggle yet again over the grumpy tone of his request before settling in around the mic.

Jihoon began the recording and heard your voice pipe through his headphones. Dokyeom added unplanned adlibs underneath, which Jihoon grudgingly acknowledged worked better than what he'd suggested.

It was so odd that Jihoon felt so protective of this song when it wasn't even his song anymore. You had made it so much better, and now the two singers were going to apply their own professional minds to the song. This is how it always went.

So why was he jealous of not being on the track himself? Of not being the one in the booth with you? Jihoon saw Dokyeom tap you on the shoulder to encourage you to join him on the final vocal runs. Oh yes, he was definitely feeling weirdly jealous over you two for some reason.

The music ended and you looked through the glass directly at Jihoon, eyes shining at him with a huge grin across your face. Jihoon found himself smiling back. You looked really beautiful at that moment.

Dokyeom's eyes widened as he glanced between you and Jihoon. He had never seen Jihoon appear so connected with a virtual stranger. The camera crew appeared to think the same thing, because he saw one of them move to get a close up of Jihoon, and he saw the robotic camera in the booth tilt toward you.

You broke eye contact with Jihoon to take off your headphones and thank Dokyeom for a chance to record the song for fun, and Jihoon shook himself out of whatever bizarre hypnosis he was going through. He headed over to the computer to send this track to his personal email, just in case he may want to listen to it later.

After a few more recordings of Dokyeom alone (his raw vocals were no joke), the three of you chatted in the studio while the engineer finalized the tracks and Dokyeom suggested getting dinner.

"I would love to, but I'm meeting my roommate for dinner," you explained. "We live nearby."

"Invite them!" Dokyeom replied. "Let me pick a spot and send you the location." He scrolled through the map on his phone.

Jihoon tidied the studio and listened to the two of you talk about dinner options. So you lived nearby and had a roommate. For some reason, he liked learning things about you. It must be because you worked together so well.

Dokyeom selected a restaurant and you called your roommate to ask about meeting you and your friends for dinner. You made eye contact with Jihoon when you said that into your phone. "Friends." Were the two of you friends now? Maybe.

...

"Jihoon, did you watch the new behind the scenes video?" Seungcheol asked as they rode to their next schedule.

Jihoon responded without looking up from his phone. "Not yet. It’s been a busy week."

"The fans are going crazy over your recording with Y/N."

Jihoon looked up at the sound of your name. He didn't realize Seungcheol knew who you were. "My recording with Y/N? You mean Dokyeom's OST recording?"

"That's not what Carats are calling it."

Seungcheol held his phone up so Jihoon could see a fan edit of the few clips from the episode that showed you with him in the studio. It ended with a screenshot from Dokyeom's Instagram story showing the three of you at dinner after the recording, in a photo taken by your roommate.

"What is that all about?" Jihoon wondered aloud. He was genuinely confused.

"Are you two dating?" Seungcheol asked directly.

Behind him in the car, Jeonghan and Minghao immediately stopped chatting. This was far more interesting than their conversation. While eavesdropping, Jeonghan frantically searched your name and Jihoon's name on social media to find the clip Seungcheol was talking about.

"No," Jihoon replied. "We worked together on the song and Dokyeom suggested we have dinner. We had dinner another time, too."

"That’s it?" Seungcheol asked skeptically.

"What do you mean? That's it."

Seungcheol looked from Jihoon to his phone, where the edit was playing again. Seungcheol agreed with the fans. There were definitely sparks between you and Jihoon. Maybe Jihoon didn't realize it yet.

By then, Jeonghan had found the clip and was watching it on mute with Minghao. They shared a meaningful look. They would probably agree with Seungcheol on his theory.

Jeonghan opened his text thread with Soonyoung and sent him a message out of curiosity. "Do you still hang out with Y/N?"

...

You were surprised by the reaction to the behind the scenes video. Most of your friends were excited to see the clips of Jihoon and Dokyeom and kept telling you the video was so cute.

Back when Dokyeom tagged you on his Instagram story, you explained to your friends that you worked on something with them and it had been an amazing experience. They were all happy for you and excited after the song was released and became so popular.

The fans seemed to have the same reaction as your friends. You were naturally a little nervous about what Carats would say when Jihoon's company asked if you were willing to be recorded. After the video, the fans seemed to think you were adorable and talented and that you worked well with Jihoon. It wasn't the dramatic reaction your roommate predicted.

But your roommate was also convinced you were into Jihoon and he was into you. While that might be half true, despite your denial, nothing in the video showed anything personal between you and Jihoon. Not that there was anything personal between the two of you, but sometimes you felt like he was giving…something. His attention felt more intense than regular coworker attention. You sort of loved having all his attention focused on you.

Nevertheless, you were barely in the video after all, since it was about Dokyeom recording the song. They cut the entire section with the track you sang with Dokyeom. The few clips where you appeared mostly showed you chatting and interacting with Jihoon, and you may have watched one or two fan edits of those scenes.

No matter what was or wasn't going on between you and Jihoon, you would never forget immediately after the music stopped, when the two of you stared into each other's eyes in a perfect moment in time.

Even if he never contacted you again, you would never forget that moment.

...

[Jihoon] 13:30 - I just learned the song was nominated for best OST

[Y/N] 13:31 - WHAT?? Really??

[Jihoon] 13:31 - It's your first nomination right?

[Y/N] 13:31 - Yes!

[Y/N] 13:31 - I can't believe it

[Y/N] 13:32 - I'm in shock

[Jihoon] 13:32 - I asked them to invite you to the ceremony

[Y/N] 13:32 - You didn't have to do that

[Jihoon] 13:33 - I have to sit with the group, but even if we don't win I want it to be a special night for you

[Jihoon] 13:33 - It's an honor to be nominated

[Y/N] 13:34 - Thank you so much for including me in all of this

[Jihoon] 13:34 - You earned this

...

"...produced by Woozi of Universe Factory, and written by Woozi of Universe Factory and Y/N of Bespoke Records. This is the first win and first nomination in this category for these songwriters. Please welcome Woozi and Dokyeom to the stage."

Jihoon was actually surprised the song won. The other nominees were very popular as well, but all were produced by groups who wrote many drama OSTs. Seungkwan clapped his back and encouraged him to go up to the stage with Dokyeom as the members cheered and clapped around him. Above the noise, Jihoon could hear the song playing in the background.

As he stood, he took a moment to scan the audience, hoping he might see you. He didn't know where your assigned seat was, only that you weren't at one of the tables at the front with the larger groups and celebrities. He knew you were here because of the excited text messages you sent him after you spotted his table.

Dokyeom led the way to the stage. Jihoon reached the microphone and accepted the award, bowing to the MCs. They stepped back and motioned toward the microphone. Dokyeom nodded encouragingly. Jihoon had done this so many times yet completely forgot what he was supposed to do this time. He wished you were on stage with him.

"Thank you, thank you everyone. Thank you to the company and the drama producers for this opportunity. Thank you to the viewers for appreciating the song from rookie OST producers. Thank you to Y/N, who is also here tonight, for elevating the song to what you hear today. She…"

Jihoon trailed off as loud applause covered his voice and people seemed to be looking at the screen behind him. He turned to look and his mind went blank. You looked radiant in your elegant dress and glowing smile.

He'd never seen you in such a beautiful gown (he only saw you in jeans or sweats and he loved that didn't follow all the trends). Your makeup was shimmering on camera (your everyday makeup always wore off by the time you arrived at your late night meetings but you were always beautiful to him). Everything about you was captivating.

He was a man of few words, generally, but right now he was speechless.

Finally, Dokyeom poked his side and nodded toward the microphone forcefully. Jihoon's years of media training kicked in and he turned back to the audience to finish his speech.

"Thank you also to our wonderful singers who brought so much life to the song. I hope we are all able to return to you soon as stronger artists."

When Jihoon returned to his seat, Soonyoung eagerly whispered, "Y/N looks gorgeous, doesn't she? How did you know she was here?"

"I invited her," Jihoon replied. And she does look amazing, he thought to himself.

...

Late that night, many hours later, Jihoon's phone buzzed as he filled a glass of water. He looked at the notification and saw it was a message from you.

[Y/N] 4:13 - Thank you so much for everything. I'm going to remember tonight for the rest of my life. It was an honor to work with you and I'm so proud of the song.

Jihoon looked at the time. Maybe it was too late to call you, but you were clearly up too late thinking about things, just as he was. He tapped the icon to call you and was still a little surprised when you picked up.

“Hello?”

“Hi. I just wanted to say it was a privilege to work with you too.” There was a pause and he awkwardly filled it. “The award will be sent to your company after they engrave it.”

“Oh! Thank you. I’ve never won anything before. It still doesn't feel real.”

Jihoon heard a small thump in the background. It sounded like you sat down. He sat down on the couch himself and set his glass on the table in front of him.

“It would be funny if we worked together again and won another award.”

It wouldn’t be funny, Jihoon thought. It was very possible. You were extremely talented. “Why not? You should send me some of your songs.”

You chuckled into his ear. Something about this made his heart beat faster. “I've been thinking about doing that but I didn't know if you would want to listen to my music.”

“Of course I do.”

The line went silent.

Jihoon wondered if you could tell how he felt about you. His friends told him women were more perceptive than they expected, especially if you treat them disrespectfully. He tried to treat everyone with respect. But he wanted more from you. He wanted more with you.

“YN? Are you still there?”

“I am,” you replied quietly.

“After you send me some songs, should we have dinner again? Just us. We can talk about the songs.” He paused, thinking of how to put into words what he felt about you. “And anything else on your mind. I really like it when you tell me what you're thinking about.”

“That would be great. I would love to.” He could hear your smile over the phone.

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