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heesdreamer · 1 year

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AS LONG AS YOU’LL LET ME

PAIRING ➩ heeseung x reader

SUMMARY ➩ prone to a bad reputation and accepting your friends ridiculous bets and challenges, you’re hit with the task to take the virginity of your schools number 1 student

WC ➩ 15k

WARNINGS ➩ um sex

AUTHORS NOTE ➩ no part 2 to this reader sucks most the time sorry.. not proofread but when is my work ever and slightly repetitive if ur a fan of my other works but what can I say i like this trope! this took me forever and not even sure i like it but hope u do

There was something about a challenge that just drove you absolutely crazy. You never cared too deeply for most things, preferring to take a casual approach to whatever life had to offer.

Yet something would awaken in you when presented a challenge, whether as serious as an academic achievement or as stupid as chugging more weekend poison than the frat boy sat beside you. Your skin would light up and your eyes would go hazy and wild at the prospect of competition, of successfully doing something that people doubted you were capable of doing.

It wasn’t any surprise to you when your friends took advantage of this, using your little quirk for their own amusement whenever school days got too slow or weekends started to hit that point of boredom. All they had to do was lay a challenge in front of you and you’d put your all into completing it.

This ended you up in numerous stupid situations, breaking into the locked school during spring break and leaving your mark for your friends to confirm once the doors opened again, flirting with the older cashier at the local liquor store while they stuffed their shirts with cold bottles, even at one point being escorted out of a crowded movie theatre by security after you managed to disturb the peace more than usual.

There wasn’t a line they wouldn’t set and more importantly, there wasn’t one you wouldn’t cross.

You felt it coming most times now, being able to sense the shift in the night and their demeanors before it actually happened. You were sat at some random party they’d dragged you to, smoking on the couch of a dirty living room and paying no attention to the ever changing crowd or the loud bass that was sounding throughout the house.

You sighed softly when you felt one of your friends nudging your side, glancing over at him with low hazy eyes and a bored expression while you waited for him to set tonight’s standard.

Sometimes you wondered if they actually were your friends, if they liked you even a little bit for your personality or if you served more so as an entertainment monkey, a circus animal for when they needed some excitement in their life. You especially thought this now as you watched him turn back to look at the others who were giggling that mean laugh they do often did when they landed on a truly rotten idea.

“I bet… you can’t take that kid home.” He said the words deliberately slow like you were stupid and incapable of understanding a faster pace.

You watched him for a few more seconds, trying to explode his head with your mind before you were following the direction where his arm was raising to point at, a cigarette loosely hanging from his fingers as he shook with laughter.

The kid in question was definitely around your age, potentially even older judging by the few people he was stood around, boys you recognized as some of your seniors at school. You didn’t recognize him however, scanning him for a while to try and decide if he was from a different part of town or if you just didn’t pay enough attention to your surroundings.

It made sense to you immediately why they had pointed him out, why he would be considered a challenge to take home.

He was stood awkwardly against the wall despite his friends clearly trying to get him to have a good time, staying near him and whispering into his ear every few seconds like they were giving him a play by play on what you were supposed to be doing at a college party.

He was clearly attempting to feign casualness, holding a cup that you were pretty certain was completely empty, and taking mock sips out of it every few minutes like clockwork. Behind the facade of his eyes that were scanning the crowd anxiously, you could tell he was extremely nervous and not used to the scene he was sat in front of.

“Oh you’re crazy dude.” Another one of your friends was talking now but you didn’t even spare her a glance, knowing she was just trying to fuel your fire more like she always did. “Him of all people? It’s impossible.”

You wanted to laugh at how obvious she was being in her comments, purposefully throwing the information towards you like you were a starving dog with snapping jaws. You’d already started to feel the competitiveness spark low in your gut the second you looked at the boy despite how annoyed by and aware of their antics you were.

“Just take him home?” You were questioning in a low voice and you finally glanced back towards your friends who were eagerly watching you. “Isn’t that a little tame?”

You liked to up the stakes with them occasionally, making sure they never got bored of you or underestimated just how far you’d take it if given the opportunity and right motivation.

You knew right away you wanted to take this one on, liking the way the boy nervously glanced back and forth or looked down at his shoes every time somebody passed by him and got a few feet too close. His friends were still glued to his side but you could tell they were itching to enter the mass of sweaty bodies, you found it interesting they’d be willing to give up their own enjoyment for their buddy.

“Not challenging enough for you? Shit you’re crazy.” Another one of your friends was laughing and patting you on the shoulder, shoving it slightly so you moved forward a bit on the couch. You shot her a glare and she leaned back with an awkward chuckle.

“Fine then I bet you can’t..” The first boy, who had started this topic of conversation in the first place, was starting up again and you watched him with an uninterested stare. “I bet you can’t take his virginity.”

This caused you to falter for a split second before regaining you composure, cocking in an eyebrow at your expectant friends before looking back towards the boy who was still uncomfortably shifting against the wall. He definitely didn’t want to be here and his little round glasses didn’t do him any favors in the feigning cool department but you weren’t sure where exactly they’d found the evidence to determine he was a virgin.

While he was definitely nerdy and awkward, he was still tall and lean with a handsome face. Plus, judging by the company he was with that was continuing to speak to him in low encouraging whispers, he had a good social circle.

Park Sunghoon and Sim Jake were definitely not losers and absolutely not virgins. You’d heard plenty of rumors about the two boys and a few others that ran with their group, ranging from your schools most established jocks and going all the way up to your class president Yang Jungwon.

“Why do you think he’s a virgin?” You were mumbling as you watched him, regardless if your friends were right or not you had your target officially set.

“It’s pretty well known.” One of the girls was shrugging her shoulders and frowning slightly, leaning against the wall behind the couch. “He’s pretty much a genius and doesn’t have time for that stuff, he’s rejected anyone who’s even slightly tried.”

“You’d know.” She was sneering and shoving an elbow into the boy next to her who started to laugh at her comment and the saddened expression on her face. You glanced at her curiously, slightly surprised she had even attempted with him considering her usual type normally fit your own friendship circles look and attitude.

You looked back over towards the boy and his friend with a raised eyebrow, trying to figure out what exactly you were missing. Why hadn’t you’d seen him before this considering the fact all of your friends seemed to know him and various details about his life?

It didn’t shock you to find him already looking at you this time, you had been staring daggers into the side of his head for almost twenty minutes now and he was bound to feel your gaze on him eventually. He was tensed as he looked at you, more so than he was already and you cocked an eyebrow in his direction at the fearful look in his eyes.

His friends seemed to realize something had caught his attention and they were following his line of sight optimistically. Sunghoon tensed up too slightly when it lead him back to you, still lazily sat on the couch off in the distance surrounded by your friends that almost resembled a pack of hyenas. You knew your reputation probably proceeded you judging by the fact he was starting to shake his head and whisper something to the boy again.

Jake, however, ever the bouncy jock seemed ecstatic that you were watching his friend so intensely and he was carrying a big smile as he leaned in to say something to them, most likely countering Sunghoon’s warning.

You watched him wrap an arm around the boys thin shoulders, patting him encouragingly before dismounting and dragging Sunghoon away into the crowd. This left the boy alone and for a second he took a few steps forward in panic like he was going to follow them but he quickly stopped as they disappeared amongst the masses, looking ten times more awkward now that he didn’t have his bodyguards sat next to him.

He met your eye again for a second before he was flushing again and looking away quickly, eyes shooting to his shoes as he nervously shuffled in place a few times.

Your friends had been talking during this, possibly to you and maybe they were upping the stakes of the bet, but you’d stopped listening a few minutes ago and only noticed they were speaking as you stood up from the couch and left them mid sentence, heading over to where the boy was standing.

You imagined you looked like a wild snake stalking it’s prey, licking your fangs as you slowly slithered closer to it until you finally snapped your jaws around his neck. He seemed to be thinking a similar thing judging by the way his eyes widened with fear when he went to look at you again and realized you were approaching.

You didn’t immediately greet him, leaning against the wall he was on with your shoulder so you could face him. You watched his side profile and scanned down his chest as it lifted and fell with heavy breaths.

He eventually mustered up the courage to look at you and only then did you give him a smile, letting it slowly take over your face as you cocked your head slightly and studied the way his nervous eyes darted all around your features.

“Hi.” Your voice was breathy and sweet but he immediately furrowed his eyebrows and looked away at the sound of it, picking at the rim of his cup that you now could see was in fact empty. “What’s your name?”

He glanced at you again and you realized you’d probably said the wrong thing judging by the fact his anxious eyes suddenly hardened. You assumed that he knew of you enough that you should’ve known him or you’d possibly met before hence his extreme reaction to your question.

“My memories bad baby I’m sorry, just remind me.” You were pouting slightly and cooing at him, shifting closer on the wall so you could reach up and place a hand on his shoulder gently.

He was glancing at it with wide eyes, staring at the way your fingertips just barely pressed onto his shirts fabric, then he was back to looking at your face again but thankfully he had lost the offended look. You noted that you liked how big his eyes were as he peered down at you, still taking those deep and shuddering breaths to try and calm down his nerves at your sudden close proximity.

“Heeseung.” He was whispering out, almost afraid to speak any louder considering how close your faces were now that he had turned his head to face you more directly. You smiled at the sweet tone of his voice and nodded your head in recognition.

“Lee Heeseung.” You repeated back to him, adding on his last name to show him that you did in fact know who he was.

You weren’t lying either as you came to the realization, knowing now why he felt so familiar yet unrecognizable. Lee Heeseung was the top of, not only your class and year, but the entire school and it was no doubt that he’d graduate miles above everybody else. His friend group was full of overachievers in their respective fields and now you understood the presence of the two outstanding jocks from earlier.

He seemed slightly surprised that you knew who he was and he was still watching you with those large curious eyes, gulping a bit when you instinctively curled your fingers into his shoulder like a kneading cat.

You were half expecting him to push you off, to reject you and make some excuse that could allow him to leave, remembering what your friends had said about his habit of shutting girls down early in their advances. It surprised you a bit when he was turning slightly so he could face you more, almost like he hadn’t even realized he was doing it as he took in a deep breath.

Your smiled widened, knowing from experience that you occasionally had a certain addicting aura to you, something that made boys lean forward instinctively or follow you around like a lost puppy.

However your obvious expression seemed to wake him up to your attempts and his face dropped into a small frown, leaning back far enough that your hand was falling from his shoulder and you were losing your smile as you watched him visibly grow uncomfortable. He watched you with a weird expression before he was turning his body again and avoiding looking in your direction.

“Did you need something?” He mumbled out and you frowned at the change in his tone, not as smooth and sweet as it had been when he said his name.

You were shaking your head even though he wasn’t looking at you anymore and trying to think of another route to take since this clearly wouldn’t be as simply as you originally thought it would, eyes lighting up again when you got an idea.

“A tutor.” You rushed out, trying to keep your voice casual and not make it sound like you’d just thought of that on the spot. He gave you a disbelieving look and you nodded in earnest. “I’m serious. I’m flunking bad.”

“Last I checked you didn’t care about school.” He was mumbling and you furrowed your eyebrows at his statement, wondering just how much he apparently know about you.

“Only one more year.” You were shrugging at him and your eyes shot down to his lips and neck for a second before you were meeting his gaze again, trying to hold your laugh when his eyes widened a bit at your wandering gaze. “Time to get serious I guess.”

He didn’t say anything for a few beats and you resisted the urge to push his glasses up his nose as they slowly fell while you talked, watching him take a deep breath as he contemplated what you were saying. You’d never heard of him tutoring somebody before but you also weren’t sure if anybody had ever asked, not paying him much mind once they realized he wasn’t going to do their homework or let them cheat off his test.

He was finally looking at you again with hesitation in his eyes and you offered him another small smile, trying to look as least devious as you could possibly manage.

“If you’re serious we can meet in the library on Monday.” He was muttering and your face lit up which caused him to let out a small sigh.

“Not somewhere more private?” You couldn’t resist teasing him further considering how unnerved he already seemed, touching his arm softly as you purred the words again. He winced slightly at your sudden change of tone but didn’t take a step backwards like he had before.

“I said if you’re serious.” He warned in an awkward voice and you nodded your head in understanding, squeezing his arm quickly before retracting your hand.

“Trust me. I’m serious.”

——

You would’ve thought the world ended judging by the stares you were getting as you entered the library.

It had taken you longer than you originally planned to find it and then make your way to where Heeseung had told you he’d be if you wanted to show up, so now you were going to be a few minutes late. You hoped he would still be there and had planned for the fact you obviously didn’t frequent the building enough to get around swiftly.

Luckily, you caught sight of him the second you finished climbing the stairs to the third floor and your stomach turned in excitement.

It put a damper on your plans for your meeting to be so public but that didn’t deter you much, the familiar buzz of adrenaline running through you as you took in his appearance from a distance. He had clearly gotten there way before your meeting time and he seemed engrossed in whatever text book was laid in front of him, possibly not even realizing you were late.

You were approaching him slowly to see how long it would take him to notice you but he didn’t pick his head up from the book until you were standing in front of him and clearing your throat.

You smiled at him when he jumped in his seat, lifting his head so fast his glasses bounced on top of his nose. He immediately looked awkward and apologetic at the sight of you and you pulled out the seat next to him so you could sit down. He seemed surprised you weren’t taking the one across instead and stiffened up in his seat.

“Hope I’m not too late.” You greeted him casually and turned in the chair so your knees were pointing in his direction and you could fully face him.

“No you’re perfect.” He was shaking his head and peering at you intensely like he was in a daze and not thinking clearly. When you smirked and cocked your eyebrow at his wording he immediately flushed. “I-I mean like… t-the timing is perfect. You’re on time is all I meant.”

You laughed at him softly and he shook his head to himself, turning and sternly facing forward so he didn’t have to look at you as he closed the book he was focusing on and started to pull out the ones pertaining to what you had asked him to help you with. You didn’t pay any mind to which ones he was opening up, not having any plans to pay attention anyways.

He seemed to notice this after a few minutes and he slowly trailed off on his introduction statement when he realized you weren’t even glancing at the books, just watching the side of his face as he rambled on.

He was glancing at you from the side of his eye to really confirm what you were looking at before he sighed softly and turned his head so he was facing you more directly, shying away from your intense gaze slightly. “I thought you said you were serious.”

“I was serious about meeting you at the library.” You explained to him, shrugging softly when he furrowed his eyebrows and sighed again. You shifted your knee slightly so it was bumping into the side of his chair and he glanced down at it, snapping his head back up when he noticed the bare skin of your legs below your skirt. “It’s hard for me to focus.”

“How can I help?” He eventually asked after he took a deep calming breath and the question would’ve sounded sleazy from anybody else, like a sly pick up line. Paired with his gentle tone and earnest eyes though, you almost cooed at how eager he was to help you.

You hummed softly and pretended to think for a few seconds, liking the way he got more nervous and kept fidgeting in his chair with every passing second.

“How about we make it a game?” You were eventually stating, letting your voice come out excited and breathy like you’d just thought of the idea. “Every time I get something right, you have to answer one of my questions.”

He seemed hesitant at this and thrown off like he didn’t expect you to suggest something like that, a game that didn’t benefit you in any way and only served for you to get to know him better. He was eventually agreeing and you smiled softly as you watched him push his glasses back up his nose and try to think of something to ask you.

You liked the first few questions he asked because he was clearly taking it easy on you, stuttering out simple things that were basic knowledge and trying not to look at you when you intentionally got them wrong, wanting to drag out your game and get to listen to his smooth voice more.

When you got the first one right he was taking a second to take another breath before glancing at you curiously, slight fear in his eyes like he was worried you’d ask him something inappropriate or uncomfortable.

“When did you meet your friends?” You were eventually saying and he visibly relaxed although he had a suspicious look on his face like you’d thrown him off with the easygoing question.

“Middle school.” He mumbled out and you nodded softly, putting your elbow on the table and leaning forward onto your hand so you could be closer to him. He flushed bright red but continued with his answer. “We p-played basketball together sometimes.”

Your eyebrow quirked up in surprise at the new unlocked information and for a second you wanted to ask him if he still played but he was continuing on with the next subject question before you had the chance, shifting uncomfortably when you immediately answered it with ease and gained the opportunity for another inquiry about his life.

“Was that your first time at a party?” Your voice was lower now since you were closer and he was watching you intensely, stiffened by the way your eyes went from holding his gaze tightly in yours to watching his lips as he spoke.

“Yeah I guess so.” He shrugged softly but you could tell he was feeling anything but casual. He almost looked transfixed by how close you were getting to him the longer the two of you talked. “It wasn’t yours though.”

You smiled softly at his comment, knowing for sure now that he clearly knew of you and your reputation. You thought it was cute that he seemed unnerved by the mere mention of a party yet you found yourself in the same position as last weekend, just different couches, almost every single night you had available. You wondered if this made him less likely to answer your next question or more so.

He was asking it slowly like he had realized you knew more than you let on, giving you a rather hard one just to test his theory and sighing softly again when you answered it much quicker than it was delivered to you.

“Has anybody ever kissed you before?” You finally asked him something that slightly toed the line he originally expected you to cross.

You were leaning even closer as you said this, voice low and eyes hazy as you watched him. He wasn’t moving but he was watching you closely with that same hypnotized look in his eyes, shaking his head instinctively like he answered you without meaning to and then immediately flushing when he realized that he had.

You let your lip curl into a half smile as you looked at him and neither one of you made any move to continue on with the game, just watching each other in tensioned silence for a few beats before you were clearing your throat to try and catch his attention fully again. His eyes that had fallen down to the lower half of your face shot back up to your eyes and you cocked your head slightly.

Heeseung was trying not to shift away from you out of embarrassment but it got even more difficult when you were moving closer again, your free hand that wasn’t under your chin coming up to rest on his knee. He was suddenly glad he had worn jeans and not shorts despite how hot the weather had gotten in the past few weeks.

“Why not?” You were whispering to him and squeezing his knee softly, watching as it took a second for his dizzy mind to remember what you had even been talking about before to try and figure out what you were referring to. “Why hasn’t anybody ever kissed you?”

He just flushed more red as you assisted him in remembering, repeating the direct words as they fell casually off your lips while simultaneously causing his entire nervous system to light up.

“I’m not sure.” He whispered back, his voice wavering slightly with nerves as the conversation and tone changed quickly. “I-I don’t really know I guess.”

You hummed softly like you didn’t really believe him, thinking about the comments your friends had made about him turning down any advances. You had a feeling that was more about their own advances and judgements about him rather than him just simply being a prude. You felt like your theory was right the more he stared at the way your hand was squeezing around his knee.

“Do you want to come back to my dorm with me?” You were whispering to him suddenly and his eyes were back on yours, widening in shock for a moment before glancing around the empty library like he was worried somebody could somehow hear what you said.

This seemed to awaken him from his spell and he was leaning back a bit, aggressively popping the bubble you had fallen into with each other. You’d crossed the line enough that he was doubting your intentions again and he shifted his leg enough that your hand fell from his knee, landing lifeless on the side of his chair instead.

“For what?” He was asking with a frown and the fact that he was even slightly curious reassured you a bit that he wasn’t fully rejecting your advances, just being cautious.

“I can’t focus here.” You were explaining simply and he glanced around again like he was confused on what you meant, especially since it was pretty much completely silent and empty outside of your whispers to each other. “Too much on my mind.”

He didn’t verbally agree but he was closing the book in front of him and giving you a nervous look that made you smile, knowing he was accepting your offer to go somewhere more private. You tried not to be offended as you walked in silence, even more so because he kept looking over his shoulder like he was afraid to be seen leaving with you.

His anxiety didn’t cease as you crossed the courtyard over to your side of the dorms, if anything it just amplified the closer you got to your room and the more students you passed by.

You didn’t blame him considering you could only imagine the rumors that would blossom from him being seen with you, considering your reputation and overall look, especially since you were leading him back to your room in the middle of the day. It almost made you laugh to see how unnerved he was just to study in private with you.

When you finally got to your dorm, he still hadn’t calmed down and he awkwardly looked around the small room like he was in search of a place to sit. You’d forgone the usual desk and chair most dorms had and instead only had your bed as a resting place, raising your eyebrow at him when you walked past his stiff body to slowly lower yourself onto it, patting the spot next to you.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have come here.” He was shaking his head suddenly and still standing in the middle of your room but you frowned softly at him.

“I don’t bite you know.” Your voice was soft and innocent, teasing him for his assumptions about your intentions and he gave you a disbelieving look before eventually taking a few hesitant steps and sitting as far away from you on the bed as he could possibly manage.

You watched him intensely as he took his backpack off and placed it on the floor, in between his feet. He was bending over to rummage through it and search for the subjects you were previously talking about and you scanned his frame and side profile as he did so, liking the way his turtleneck was stretched and pulled tightly against his back muscles because of his movements.

He was sitting back up and beginning to talk again but you were zoned out as you watched him, trailing down his neck to the way his hands tried to explain the subject to you.

When he eventually caught on to the fact you still weren’t paying any attention, judging by the way he asked you a question and got no response, he looked over towards you and let out a soft sigh when he realized you weren’t even pretending to be looking at the textbooks.

“You’re still not focusing.” He was mumbling to you and shaking his head, closing the book on his lap and picking at the cover with anxious fingers. “I thought you said you’d be less distracted in private.”

“Must be something else stealing my attention then.” You were shrugging and leaning back on your palm so your body was more angled towards him, smiling when his breath hitched slightly when your position made your skirt ride up your legs.

“What do you want from me?” He was eventually asking in a low, nervous voice and you cocked your head at him.

For a moment you contemplated playing the game a bit longer, telling him you didn’t want anything and this was just an innocent study date. You considered what your friends had said about him never paying any mind to any advances or attempts but then you thought again about the way he instinctively leaned closer to you and followed you back to your room despite knowing your reputation and bad habits.

“What do I want from you?” You repeated back to him and he nodded softly, eyes going to your mouth when you kissed your teeth. “Who said I want anything?”

He didn’t say anything for a few heavy seconds, tension in the air almost suffocating both of you as you waited for him to give you any signal that he had fully caught on to your intentions and didn’t mind them. His body language didn’t do much to help you, shifting uncomfortably but still watching you with an intense gaze that kept exploring around your face.

“Y-you.. I’ve heard some stuff about you, I guess.” He was eventually saying and you tilted your head as he played with his fingers anxiously, avoiding looking at you completely now as he brought up the subject.

“What have you heard exactly?” You shifted closer to him on the bed and it caught his attention again, stiffening although you still were a few feet away. “Good things… bad things?”

“I don’t know.” The way he paused, calculated and awkward, made you believe he definitely did know and just didn’t want to say. He seemed to notice you caught on to that and he sucked in a breath before pushing up his glasses. “Just the stuff you do with people.”

“I do lots of stuff with very little people. I’m picky.” You were scooting closer to him again as you said this, letting a purr seep back into your voice and he gave you a disbelieving look.

Heeseung was cute, that fact didn’t pass by you from the second you saw him, but you were a bit taken back by how handsome he looked the longer you spent with him. Despite being awkward and avoiding your eye contact like it was a devious act, his gaze was strong when you held it and he occasionally lifted an eyebrow almost like he didn’t realize he was doing it.

He had a sort of arrogance about him, something he possibly hadn’t noticed he carried. Maybe it stemmed from excelling academically or being desired for his skills, for his brains.

The other side of him, the part that was insecure and fidgeting, letting out small stutters and choked breaths was attractive to you too. You didn’t necessarily have a type, gender or appearance, but you were drawn to the fact he seemed almost drunk every time he looked at you for too long.

“You don’t believe me?” You questioned him when the look didn’t leave his face, doubting the fact that you were apparently picky yet still deciding to obviously flirt with him.

“Jake said you normally go for like.. I don’t know people like you.” He was mumbling out, his eyes still scanning your face mindlessly.

“You asked your friends about me?” You tried to keep the teasing tone out of your voice but he definitely caught on to it, flushing and stammering for a second like he hadn’t meant to give you that much information.

“J-just at the party.” He was quick to explain as he shook his head, glasses sliding down his nose bridge again. “You were l-looking I think and Sunghoon said something about it and I don’t know, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

You ignored the fact he was rambling and attempting to backtrack on what he said, leaning forward off your palm so you were closer to him again. He froze up at the sudden proximity and watched you with widen eyes when you reached over to push his glasses back up on his face, tucking some of his hair behind his ear afterwards.

“I think maybe you’re picky too.” You told him slowly, watching the way his eyes trailed from your wrist that was practically touching his cheek now, all the way up your arm before it was landing back on your face.

“I’m not.” He was shaking his head earnestly like he was trying to convince you and when you raised an eyebrow, he realized he had misspoken in his desperation. “I m-mean.. I guess I am. I just don’t think girls really would get what they want from me.”

He was saying it slow and awkward but you could sense the fact he had been thinking about this a lot. Your mind flashed with how fast he was to answer your questions even when he was feeling awkward, the way he stared at your hand that squeezed his knee in the library.

“What do you think they want?” You were muttering and you could tell by the look he gave you, incredulous and knowing like he already realized you had noticed his behavior, that he wasn’t going to tell you so you finished your sentence for him. “You think they want you to be in charge? To lose your resolve and snap, bend them over.”

He was watching you intensely as you spoke and something flashed past his eyes, dark and heavy but ashamed at the same time. You kissed your teeth again and pet his cheek softly, almost forgetting your hand was resting there until he subtly nudged the side of his face against it.

His skin was hot to the touch and still red like it had been from the moment you’d brought him back to your room, fidgeting with his fingers and not breathing as you shifted closer again so the sides of your thighs were pushed tightly against each others. He only sucked in a fast and panicked breath when your hand traveled down his cheek and stopped at the base of his neck, turning your head at his reaction.

“Such a pretty boy.” You were whispering and your voice shocked the both of you, coming out just as breathy and transfixed as his was previously.

You couldn’t help it as you studied his expression, his big eyes peering at you with hesitance and curiosity behind the thin framed glasses. He was a lot bigger than you but he seemed small and fragile with the way he shrunk in on himself, shoulders pulled forward in an attempt to disappear.

His eyes were going down towards your lips again and when he saw the corner of them pull up into a smirk they immediately left, meeting your eyes in embarrassment.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” You were asking him in a low voice and your faces were so close all it would take is a slight rock forward from either of you.

“I d-don’t know.” He whispered back but his eyes went back down to your mouth as you smiled, telling you he definitely did know. “I’m not sure how.”

“I can teach you.” Your lips were grazing against his as you spoke and a shudder ran through him, his glasses sliding forward again and touching your forehead. “Let me teach you baby.”

He was hesitating for a second but his eyes widened a touch at the pet name and then he was nodding his head, his forehead touching yours because of the movement. You were pushing into him before he could change his mind and he stiffened at the feeling of your lips against his.

He wasn’t lying about not knowing how, completely frozen throughout the kiss until you were pulling back and laughing softly, his eyebrows furrowing in an upset expression at the sound. You kissed him again before he could think too deeply about your laugh and get insecure about you making fun of him, this time bringing your hand up to his face again to try and help him add some movement.

It took a few seconds but he slowly got the hang of it, pushing against your mouth desperately once he realized he could move with you.

You pulled back out of the kiss for a second to look at him, his eyes still shut tight and his cheeks almost as red as his swollen lips. He fluttered his eyelashes open once he realized you weren’t kissing him again and gave you a confused look.

You couldn’t help yourself from pushing your hand off his cheek and into his hair, brushing it back and admiring the way it immediately flopped back into place, soft and fluffy. You were turning your head to kiss him again, a small peck that pulled a little noise from him.

“What’s wrong baby.” You practically cooed at him, adjusting his glasses and watching the way he went slightly cross eyed as he followed your fingers movements.

“Please, again.” He breathed out and you felt a pull in your stomach at the whiny tone to his voice, leaning back into you desperately and seemingly forgetting the resolve he was showing earlier.

You didn’t bother teasing him further, pulling him in for another kiss and letting it deepen quickly this time. He made another noise into your mouth as you did this, half surprised and half grateful when you continued to move your lips together at a slow pace.

His hands were shaking in his lap and you reached down blindly to grab one, bumping against his stomach on accident and feeling it harden at the touch. You ignored it for now and took his hand in yours so you could place it around your body, letting it settle near your back.

You were slipping your tongue into his mouth softly and he froze again, eyes opening for a second but immediately shutting again when you closed your fist in his hair in warning.

He let you lick into his mouth a few times, getting used to the feeling and then he was pushing forward again so he could kiss you deeper. You almost laughed at his excitement but you were stopped by the feeling of his tongue brushing against yours, experimenting for himself what it felt like.

Heeseung let out a low groan that vibrated against you and your free hand slid forward to grab near his knee again, bunching up the fabric of his pants absentmindedly.

You sucked on his tongue for a few beats before you felt his spit dripping down his chin, pressed tightly against yours considering he wasn’t allowing either of you room to breathe. You pulled back just slightly and he opened his eyes to watch you, letting out a gasp when you were turning your head to lick the wetness off his chin, your tongue trailing up until it was back in his mouth again.

His gasp made you smile into the kiss and you could feel his large hands squeezing your side, shifting slightly at the feeling.

When you were finally pulling away to try and take a breath, he was giving you a panicked look and trying to lean in again. Your hand in his hair tightened to stop his advances and he frowned deeply.

“W-why?” He was whispering and his face fell into a pout, an expression far more vulnerable than you’d ever seen him carry.

“Don’t want you to get too excited.” Your tone was teasing and your eyes dropped down to his lap, an obvious tent in his pants although you had barely touched him and just kissed a little bit.

He was clearly mortified and leaning away from you a bit, eyes darting around awkwardly like he wanted to disappear into the mattress. You were petting his hair again to try and soothe his embarrassment.

“Just messing with you baby.” You were shaking your head and trying to reassure him, your hand kneading his knee for a second before sliding up and down his clothed thigh, caressing it gently.

“It’s not funny.” He mumbled back, watching you carefully like he was waiting for you to burst out laughing at him. You frowned again at his hurt tone, wondering what past experiences he had that would lead him to he so defensive.

You were scooting closer to him again and now your legs were hooked over him, thrown over his lap so you could hold the side of his face and turn his head so he was looking at you. He froze at the feeling of your thighs pressed ontop of him but didn’t make any move to scoot away this time, just watching you with a guarded expression.

“I like that you like kissing me that much.” You were whispering it to him and his eyes went to your mouth at the reminder you had kissed. “You make me feel good too.”

“I do?” He sounded breathless at that, eyes opening up a bit in shock as he waited for your confirmation.

“Yeah baby, you’re so pretty.” You kissed your teeth softly and pushed his hair back again, taking in his features and the way he instinctively pushed his head against your palm.

You were kissing him again before he could say anything else, cupping his face in your hands and parting your mouth in shock when he was squeezing your legs, seemingly forgetting they were still in his lap until his big hands made contact with your bare skin.

He was freezing up at the realization he was touching your thighs, your skirt rolling up more to an almost dangerous height and he pulled away from the kiss to stare at you, removing his hands so fast you barely registered that they were there.

“I-I have to go.” He was rushing out and you frowned softly at his nervous tone, not saying anything as he was suddenly scooting away from you and gently placing your legs back on the bed so he could stand off of it without jolting you around.

You wanted to ask him what had happened to scare him off, mouth parting in the beginning of a question but he was throwing his backpack over his shoulder before you could form a syllable, disappearing out the door with a slight stumble that almost sent him flying into your bedside table. You sighed softly at the fact he had completely ran away from you, realizing this would be a lot harder than you thought.

——

The next time you saw Heeseung was the following Thursday morning, despite wanting to immediately seek him out once you entered campus you thought it would be better if you have him a few days to calm himself down and lessen his nerves.

This plan didn’t seem to work considering he immediately stiffened up when he caught sight of you entering the classroom he was sat in, some lecture you didn’t bother checking the subject for, asking his friend Jake in passing where you could find him. He shifted awkwardly in his seat, the front row of course, and tried to avoid looking at you.

It didn’t work considering you stopped directly in front of him, eyeing the small girl who was sitting in the seat beside him until she was glancing up at the feeling of your stare and immediately faltering before getting up and going the row behind.

Heeseung sighed softly when you smiled at her and slid into the seat, scooting the chair slightly so you were closer to him.

“What are you doing here?” He sounded exhausted and completely thrown off, facing the front of the classroom and whispering out of the side of his mouth.

“Am I not allowed to attend a class?” You were whispering back to him, still holding your smile despite the fact he was refusing to look at you.

“So you’re interested in physical anthropology now?” His tone was sarcastic and he finally spared you a quick glance, faltering when he saw your smile and the way you leaned forward with your chin on your palm so you could be closer to him.

“Maybe I just wanted to see you.” You were shrugging softly and tapping your foot against his, staring at his clean tennis shoes for a second before looking back at him to see him holding his gaze on yours now.

He watched you for a few beats, you could tell he was holding his breath by the way his shoulders were tensed and then finally releasing in a small shuddered exhale. You raised an eyebrow at him and went to speak, stopping when his eyes dropped to your mouth for a second before he was flushing and going back to staring at the empty chalkboard.

You smiled softly at the realization he was clearly replaying the other day in his mind, more awkward than normal now that you’d caught him zoning out staring at your mouth.

The professor was coming in now and you stiffened slightly, Heeseung’s foot trapped under yours. For a second you considered staying and teasing him a bit further but considering you definitely weren’t supposed to be here and you were directly in the front row, you imagined it would be easier to just leave before you were removed.

You were gathering your bag, slipping the strap back over your shoulder as Heeseung watched you from the corner of his eye.

You leaned down towards him, letting your lips graze against his ear and trying not to laugh at the way a shiver wracked through his body as he clenched his pencil tighter.

“There’s a party tomorrow at Beomgyu’s place. You and your friends should come.” You didn’t give him the chance to say anything about your invitation, knowing he was most likely to decline while in your presence.

You could feel him watching you still as you turned to leave the classroom, waving slightly at the professor who was giving you a confused look.

——

“Wait, you’re actually thinking about going?” Sunghoon was raising a dark eyebrow as he sat up to look at his friend, not paying attention before but now on high alert as he tuned into the conversation. “Are you fucking insane?”

“Dude when has Heeseung ever been invited to a party by a girl.” Jake was rebutting and wrapping an arm around the mentions boys shoulders, shaking him slightly with an excited grin. “And she’s hot.”

Heeseung groaned softly and pushed his friends arm off of him, flopping on the couch and trying not to think too deeply about the reason his jaw clenched at Jake’s wording. He had decided to confide in them after your interaction in the classroom, leaving out the details of what happened in your dorm.

He could hear Jake’s mocking tone now, scolding him for running away from you the way he did.

“Yeah exactly. I mean no offense but do you not find it slightly suspicious that Y/N is suddenly interested in Heeseung?” Sunghoon was speaking slowly like he was worried about hurting his friends feelings, eyeing him carefully.

Heeseung didn’t say anything still, regretting bringing it up at all. He had blurted it out awkwardly after they’d questioned his red blushing face, still replaying the feeling of you whispering in his ear in a classroom full of gossiping peers.

“Hee is a smoke show dude, it’s about time ladies started to notice it.” Jake was shaking his head and pointing a stern finger towards the other two boys who were watching him from the couch.

Heeseung sighed again when his friend turned on his feet and disappeared into his closest, muttering something about making him look as sexy as possible for when he saw you. Sunghoon glanced over at him when he heard the small noise and raised an eyebrow.

“I can tell him to chill out if you want.” He was offering, noticing how tense the oldest boy looked.

“Do you really think she couldn’t like me?” It was slipping out before he even decided if he wanted to say it or not, wincing at how insecure and nervous his voice sounded and hoping Sunghoon didn’t pick up on how totally distraught over this he was.

He knew Sunghoon wouldn’t make fun of him like Jake but he felt embarrassed over being so inexperienced and awkward around girls still. He’d had bad experiences that only his friends really knew about and hadn’t really planned to ever make another attempt until you’d approached him, charming and devilish while smelling sweeter than any person he’d ever encountered.

Sunghoon seemed to finally notice that his protective behavior was furthering his friends insecurity and he sighed softly once more before patting him affectionately on the knee.

“Let’s get you dressed.”

——

Despite only coming to the party to see if Heeseung would come, you weren’t expecting much. You highly doubted he would actually attend or if he did he’d most likely not be okay being seen with you after the stunt you had pulled in the classroom.

So you were you completely, and uncharacteristically, frozen in the middle of the room when the crowd had slightly parted and you caught sight of him leaning against the wall. He was with his two friends again and you could still see the nervous twitch in his hands but his visual had taken a complete 180, almost not recognizing him for a split second.

You were making your way over there before he even realized you were approaching, eyes widening slightly when Sim Jake was nudging him in the ribs to get his attention and nodding his head towards you.

“Your glasses.” You breathed out once you were in speaking distance, almost toe to toe with him and staring at him with slightly amazed eyes. He awkwardly looked to his sides at his friends and Sunghoon cleared his throat before pushing off the wall and waiting for the other boy to join him.

“Hey.” Heeseung was greeting now that they were gone, trying to carry a casual tone despite the fact he was picking at the skin around his thumb.

You scanned down his outfit, tight ripped jeans with a simple black shirt tucked into the belt but he looked nothing like himself, missing his usual sweaters and loose fitted pants. Not to mention the most jarring part, his lack of glasses sat against his high nose.

“Are you… wearing eyeliner?” You were instinctively leaning forward to get a closer look, too invested and intrigued in his new look to realize how little space you were leaving between the two of you.

He stiffened at the fact you were swaying closer to him, your nose brushing against his for a second and your mouth twitched downwards at the fact his glasses weren’t hitting against your forehead anymore. He must’ve misread your reaction between he winced slightly and looked down towards his feet.

“You look sexy.” You blurted out when you realized his insecure expression, your hand coming to grip his arm and trying not to look down at the feeling of his bare skin under your palm, forgetting about his top of choice.

“D-do I?” He was muttering out and then quickly clearing his throat and attempting to steady his expression. “Do I?”

“Can you see?” You ignored his ask for reassurance and smiled a little bit, sliding over so your back was against the wall too and your shoulders were pressed together.

He tensed again at the way you moved away which causes you to furrow your brows, assuming he would have rather you not be all over him in case anybody was starting to pay attention to the two of you. You nudged him softly with your hand to try and bring his attention back to what you were asking him.

“No, not really.” He flushed as he said it, embarrassed to be admitting that he had forgone one of his senses just to look nice.

“You’re not missing much.” You mumbled back to him, looking out into the surging crowd and scanning the faces, some familiar and some empty and blending together the longer you watched. “Other than a few girls eyeing you.”

“Seriously?” He was glancing over at you with an interested expression and you scoffed while turning your head to face him better, eyes dipping down to his mouth for a second before meeting his gaze again. He seemed more relaxed now and he was smirking slightly while looking at you.

“Oh so you’re interested?” You teased him back, liking the fact he wasn’t immediately looking away from you at the soft purr seeping into your voice.

“Not necessarily.” He was answering swiftly and your stomach swooped at the familiar breathiness in his tone.

You were turning towards him more and he was looking at you with low eyes, stiffening slightly when your hand was coming back up to rest against his arm. You were softly touching his skin before dragging your hand down towards his wrist, squeezing it tightly and pressing against the bone there. He squirmed against the wall but didn’t say anything, looking at you with a curious expression that was slowly merging into the one he had after you kissed him.

You could tell he was thinking about it judging by the way his eyes kept darting around your face, seemingly not even realizing the way he was instinctively leaning towards you.

“Who did your makeup?” You were asking him in a quiet tone and it took a second for him to respond, not registering your voice at first considering how transfixed he was by your presence. “Was it Jake?”

He was nodding softly at your suggested answer, looking sheepish again at the reminder of his changed appearance. You were humming under your breath before letting go of his wrist, bringing your thumb up to your mouth and wetting it slightly with a flick of your tongue. He watched you in amazement as you brought your wet digit to his face, carefully cleaning up the messy lines.

Your other hand was also coming up to his face to cup his jaw in an attempt to keep him still so you could avoid poking him. He held his breath the entire time you were touching him, gently wiping your wet thumb along his waterline and giving him a more smudged and smokey look rather than the amateurish lines his friend had attempted.

When you pulled back from his face, he remained still as he watched you with an almost drunk gaze, completely floored by your actions.

“Would you let me kiss you?” You were whispering to him, just barely reaching his ears over the loud music and the crowd talking and laughing but he managed to catch it and he glanced behind your shoulder awkwardly like he was afraid somebody was watching.

“Not here.” He whispered back nervously like he thought you’d get upset. A small pang of hurt hit your chest but you tried to ignore it, knowing your reputation was your own doing and nobody else’s fault.

He hadn’t declined your proposition however and that fact didn’t miss you, grabbing his wrist again and tugging him gently off the wall so he could be dragged behind you as you made your way out of the main section of the house and towards one of the halls. You passed by his friends on the way out and you ignored the glare Park Sunghoon sent in your direction.

You entered a dark room in silence and he was flustered for a moment when you immediately pushed him against the nearest hard surface and kissed him, not giving him any time to panic or hesitate before he was attempting to unfreeze and kiss you back.

The kiss was deep and filthy and you felt a pull in your stomach at the way he dipped down slightly, knees going weak at the feeling of you pressed against him. You pulled back for a second to look at him, only slightly able to see his face in the dark and you almost frowned again at his lack of eyewear.

“Wear your glasses next time.” You instructed him in a breathy tone, stern in your words even as you leaned forward so your front was completely pressed against his.

“N-next time? Yeah.. yeah I will, I promise.” He was nodding earnestly and you smiled slightly at the giddiness in his voice at the prospect of you both continuing to meet like this.

You were kissing him again to try and distract yourself from how cute you found him, how much you liked the way he reacted to you and the charming carelessness he carried once he was comfortable. It’d been a long time since you were interested in somebody but you were going to steel up and remember that this was simply a challenge, nothing more.

He was doing his best to kiss you back and you could feel his chest rising and falling against yours, his hands resting against the wall to try and keep himself standing upright. Yours were traveling down his stomach until you could grab the belt loops of his pants and tug him off the wall slightly, turning your bodies in a circle so you were pressed against a solid surface instead.

He let out a small gasp and pulled back for a second to see where you had moved to, eyeing you curiously when you finally flicked on the lights and he realized you were inside a small bathroom.

You kissed him one more time briefly before raising yourself up onto the marble sink, pulling him forward again by his pants and laughing softly when you heard him shriek a little at the sudden movement. You trapped him between your legs and held his face softly, watching his big eyes for a second before kissing him deeply again.

“You can touch me.” You were whispering into his mouth when you realized his hands were nervously clutching onto the counter, warm mouth moving down to kiss against his jawline.

“R-right.” He was nodding but not making any move to do so, stiffening slightly when you started to suck on his neck softly, one of your hands tangled in the back of his previous styled hair.

When you bit down slightly on his tan skin, he was finally moving. He instinct lurched forward with a groan and gripped onto the closest thing, which happened to be just above your knee. He seemed like he wanted to flinch back once he felt your skin under his hold but he didn’t, taking a deep breath and keeping it there.

“Don’t be nervous.” You mumbled against his neck and you tightened your legs that were around his waist, pulling him closer so he was flushed against your lower half. “It’s just me.”

You were moving your mouth back up to kiss him again and he sighed into, leaning forward against you so you swayed backwards slightly and you felt your head pressing against the mirror placed behind you. He was pulling back to look down at you, staying pressed against you so the two of you were breathing into each others mouths.

“You have no idea how nervous that makes me.” He was speaking in a low breathy tone and your stomach dipped at how dark his eyes had gotten, still awkward but definitely feeling the effects of being around you now.

“I want you.” You tried your best to reassure him despite it not being something you usually ever did, curling your hand in his hair slightly just enough so he could feel the pull. His hand was sliding up from your knee slowly but he completely skipped your thigh, hesitantly placing it against your waist.

He was nodding slowly and surprising you by initiating another kiss, his big hand tightening around your hip bone like he didn’t even mean to do it. You hummed softly against him and spread your legs more so he could keep pressing against you.

You could feel him getting more desperate the longer you kissed, licking into your mouth and letting out small little needy whines while trying to remain quiet in case anybody passed by drunkenly looking for the restroom. When you first rolled your hips against him, he was completely faltering and he released a small shout into the kiss, freezing up at the overwhelming feeling.

You waited for a few seconds before doing it again, trying to encourage him to grind himself against you, clearly able to feel how hard he was just from kissing.

He took a while to follow your silent instructions but the pleasure overwhelmed his ability to think straight and he forgot about his insecurities for just a moment, his hips stuttering into yours as he groaned lowly at the feeling. You were moving your foot up on the counter so your legs were completely spread and tugging his hair again in an attempt to encourage his movement.

Heeseung was hesitantly fucking himself against you, losing focus and completely forgetting about the fact you were kissing, his hand kneading against your side almost painfully. He was pulling his head back away from your mouth and lowering his forehead onto your shoulder instead, more groans falling from his lips.

“That’s good baby.” Your voice was breathy and you were nodding even though he couldn’t see it, your hand holding his hair tightly from where he was resting in your neck. “Does it feel good?”

“F-feels.. fuck.” He trailed off after that and you almost laughed at how wrecked he sounded, hearing him swear for the first time from how overwhelmed he was getting.

You could imagine how he must be feeling, how addicting it would be to go from never being kissed to suddenly experiencing pleasure so intense for the first time. He would most likely do anything you wished here in this lowly lit bathroom, including helping you succeed in winning the challenge.

He was pulling his head up for a second to look at you, eyes watery and affectionate before he was surging forward for another amateurish kiss and you responded quickly, feeling guilty for your line of thinking and deciding that if you were going to win then it wasn’t going to be somewhere this desperate. Despite only being a pawn in your ego filled game, Heeseung was still a person and deserved better than a quick fuck on top of a bathroom sink.

“Let me help you cum and then let’s go back to your dorm.” You were whispering into his mouth, hands moving down out of his hair to fidget with the metal button of his jeans and he was stiffening up.

You looked at him in confusion when he was gripping your wrist tightly, stopping you from unbuttoning his pants and awkwardly avoiding looking at you. At first you assumed he was just uncomfortable with taking it further and you were fully prepared to back off until you noticed how red his neck and face were getting, embarrassment and shame rolling off him in waves.

“Oh.” You accidentally let the exclamation fall from your lips, mouth parting in shock at the realization he had came in his pants despite you not even touching him.

He was backing up from you quickly at the sound and clenching his fist together with anxiety, not looking at you and instinctively bringing a hand up to fidget with his glasses even though they weren’t there. You didn’t say anything for a few seconds out of shock, watching him panic.

“That’s okay.” You were attempting to reassure him but you could tell the damage was already done judging by the disbelieving glare he sent you, shaking his head and biting the inside of his cheek like he was trying to stop himself from crying. “Heeseung, it’s fine seriously.”

He didn’t say anything else but he was giving you a heavy glance, eyes upset and frustrated at himself before he was taking a deep shuddering breath and turning to walk out the door, leaving you awkwardly sat on the counter top still trying to catch your breath.

You unfroze after a few seconds and went to go and follow after him, surprising yourself as you ignored people’s questioning stares at your worried expression as you stood on your tiptoes and tried to find him inside the crowd. You were having no luck and you figured he must’ve just left completely until you spotted one of his friends standing by himself in the kitchen, refilling his cup. You made your way over to him quickly.

“Park.” Your voice was raised so he could hear you over the music and he turned at the sound with a raised eyebrow, face hardening in worry when he realized who it was that said his name. “Did you see where Heeseung went?”

“What happened?” He was rushing out and his face softened in concern, reaching down into his pocket to grab his phone and you assumed he was texting or calling the boy. “What did you say?”

You were slightly offended that he assumed you had hurt his friends feelings before remembering the whole reason you were messing around with him in the first place, leaning over his shoulder to try and see the text message he was sending Heeseung. He glared and turned his phone screen away from your nosy eyes which made you sigh.

“I didn’t say anything.” You spat out at him, glaring back in his direction and crossing your arms. “It’s none of your business what happened but I really didn’t do anything.”

He was sighing and putting his phone back into his pocket. “He’s leaving with Jake.” You were nodding and turning to leave him alone but him clearing his throat stopped you and you glanced back at him in confusion. “Whatever you’re doing, I really hope you’re not messing with him. He’s been through a lot and I don’t know if he could handle it.”

You tried to keep your expression stony, knowing that he was particularly perceptive and he’d definitely catch the flash of guilt passing through you if you let it show even slightly. You didn’t say anything and his eyes grew more suspicious at your silence, shaking his head in disappointment and wandering off before you had the chance to.

——

You showed up to classes early the next Monday, standing in front of Heeseung’s first one of the morning and waiting patiently for him to arrive so you could talk to him.

You caught sight of him not too long after you got there, walking in with Jake and Yang Jungwon. He immediately froze when he saw you and his eyes widened, turning around swiftly to try and go back down the hallway but he was stopped by his friends holding his arms tightly and walking him towards you.

“Delivery for Y/N.” Jake was smiling at you when they approached with him captured and you gave him a sheepish one in return, feeling slightly awkward with the way the other two boys were eyeing you with excitement. It wasn’t like you to get easily embarrassed but you weren’t sure how much they knew about you.

They were ditching him with a pat on the back and a knowing look, disappearing into the classroom and leaving you stood in the hallway with a frozen Heeseung.

“Hey.” You were mumbling to him and he glanced up at you, cheeks already reddening despite the fact you didn’t say anything of substance yet. You were tucking your hair behind your ear uncomfortably and he stiffened up at the realization you were also feeling embarrassed for once.

“I’m sorry.” He was rushing out and shaking his head, looking around the hallway like he was worried somebody was going to overhear him. “I made a total fool out of myself and I get it if you never want to see me again.”

“Heeseung.” You cut off his rambling abruptly and gestured around yourself with a raised eyebrow. “I’m awake way too early and stood outside a class I don’t take�� I think it’s pretty clear I don’t mind seeing you.”

He reddened more at that but for different reasons now, complete struck and confused by the fact that somebody as charming and experienced as you would want to spend time with him even after he’d came in his pants like a 14 year old boy. He itched the back of his neck nervously and you watched his glasses slide down his nose, smiling softly without realizing you were.

“Not too happy about being left in the bathroom of a shitty frat party.” You made sure you kept your voice light and teasing despite the actual hurt you’d felt that night, tugging down your skirt and awkwardly pushing past drunk college students to call a cab home.

“I’m sorry.” He was mumbling but he sounded honest, taking a step closer to you at the look on your face and you gave him another smile, reaching forward to grip onto his sweater sleeve before glancing around the way he always did when you interacted.

However this time was different apparently considering he was keeping his eyes down at you, not caring who saw the two of you talking at such a close distance. He felt stupid for last night and being so wary about being around you in public, for doubting your intentions just because you had a poor reputation. You were smiling at him and holding his wrist gently in your hands, forgetting your reasoning for coming here for a moment.

Movement behind him was catching your attention and you moved your gaze around his tall shoulder, freezing completely when you caught sight of a few of your “friends” laughing and snickering meanly as they watched the two of you interact. You were dropping his hand and his eyebrows furrowed, following your line of sight and awkwardly shifting when he saw the people watching you.

“Are they your friends?” He was whispering to you, sensing how uncomfortable you were and also remembering how little he actually knew about you. He was slightly intimidated by your friends and their habits but he’d felt the same about you before he got to know you more, almost waving at them until you were grabbing his arm again to stop him.

“No, they’re not.” You were sternly shaking your head when he looked back at you with a confused glance, remembering them sitting beside you at the party where you’d first talked.

You felt sickness in your stomach when one of the girls nudged the others with her sharp elbow and gave you a knowing look, starting to approach the two of you. You recalled her being the one at the party who said she’d attempted to get with Heeseung before and he rejected her, fearing what her ego and pride would cause her to say to him now.

“Hey Y/N.” She was smiling when she got closer, the others trailing behind, but her grin was mean and telling. She had trouble growing in her eyes and you didn’t like the way she started at the tall boy who was getting more uncomfortable by the second, sending you panicked gazes as he realized her tone wasn’t friendly. “Is it going well then? Did you do it?”

“Wonyoung.” You were warning her with a shake of your head, squeezing Heeseung’s wrist without meaning to. Normally she listened to you well, whether it was because respect or fear, but you could tell she was picking up on the emotion in your eyes and using your rare show of vulnerability to her advantage.

“Do what?” Heeseung was whispering from beside you and you could feel his gaze on you, only asking you and not paying the other girl any attention.

You didn’t respond to him but you sighed softly and squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, stomach turning painfully as you tried to think of a way out of this situation. Sunghoon’s words from the other night were ringing in your head and it was coupled with the soft look Heeseung had given you before kissing you again.

“So no then?” She was pouting and kissing her teeth softly like she was disappointed, a low hiss dragging out and filling the heavy silence that was taking over everytime somebody stopped speaking. “You could always give up you know, if he’s playing hard to get.”

It was clear what she was talking about now and you felt Heeseung stiffen in your hold, you wanted to drop his hand but you couldn’t move your body in fear of giving anything away or seeing his reaction. You could hear his breath catching in his throat in realization and you started to shake your head but he was tugging his arm away from you and taking a few steps backwards.

You finally looked at him and your expression crumbled at the look on his face, partially hurt and disgusted but you could tell he mainly felt embarrassed and humiliated for thinking you actually had liked him, his eyes darting all around and cowering away from the amused looks of the people gathered around Wonyoung like he was afraid of them.

“Hee.” You were breathing out, surprising yourself at how quiet and weak your voice was coming out.

The sound of you talking seemed to snap him out of his panic and he gave you one more heavy look, eyes watery and clenching his jaw before he was turning on his heel and disappearing down the hallway.

“He’s missing a class? I guess he’s experiencing at least one of his first times.” She was chiming out and the group behind her let out approving laughs, sounding ridiculous and practiced in a way that made your lip snarl up in disgust.

“Why the fuck would you do that?” You were spitting out at her and shoving her shoulder slightly, fear flashing through her face for just a second before it was hardening back into a mean glare as she sneered down at you.

“Did you forget what you are to us? What you were doing with him in the first place?” Her words were direct and harsh, confirming your initial worries that they hadn’t actual ever cared about you outside of needing some entertainment. “Don’t tell me you actually managed to like him?”

She said it like it was something ridiculous, like he was impossible to have feelings for or rather you were incapable of feeling things towards anybody and you felt sick again at the realization she was right.

You had started to like Heeseung, way more than you had even realized until he was walking away from you and giving you such a broken look. You’d never felt this terrible about hurting somebody before and you would’ve immediately chased after him if it wasn’t for the anger coursing through you keeping you rooted to your spot.

“Don’t talk about him again.” You were spitting at her, taking a step closer and her eyes looked hesitant for a second like she had just realized how serious you were about this. “Don’t even look at him I mean it, all of you. Leave the both of us alone.”

You expected her to say something else, to not let you go that easy but she seemed surprised by how genuinely upset you were, not used to you actually caring about the people or situations they challenged you to put yourself in messy environments with.

You were turning and following down the hallway before you could think about it more, picking up speed until you were almost in a jog although you were pretty positive he was long gone by now. When you pushed outside a cold chill ran through you and you sighed softly at the barren campus, his long legs and habit of running away giving him the advantage.

It was embarrassing how upset you were getting, your eyes watering now as you decided to just head back to your dorm, wiping your teary eyes with your sleeves and keeping your head down incase anybody walked past.

——

A few hours of wallowing in your own self pity and you quickly realized how absolutely idiotic you were, not even capable of texting him and asking to talk considering you’d been so inconsiderate you’d never even asked him for his number. He had little social media which didn’t surprise you and you almost messaged one of his friends out of desperation but decided against it knowing they most likely were already wishing you the worst.

It was extremely rare Heeseung ever missed a class and you imagined they’d been weirded out enough to pry the truth out of him, hating you more than they already had.

You hadn’t even realized you’d fallen asleep, tightly laid in your bed trying to pretend the day hadn’t happened and going over every possible way to get Heeseung’s trust back. You must’ve dozed off considering you were waking up in a jolt at the sound of rough knocks on your door.

You were frozen for a few seconds in tired confusion before you were rushing to get up and answer the door, briefly catching the clock on the wall alerting you to the fact it was the middle of the night. You felt anxious swinging the door open, knowing it must be important if they were here this late but you froze when you saw who it was standing at your door.

Or more accurately, crumpled in a messy ball on your door mat. Heeseung’s large frame was slumped down on the dirty cement and for a second you thought he might be unconscious until he was picking his head up, eyes hazy with big tears streaming down his red cheeks. He let out a small sob when he saw you looking down at him with worry and you crouched down quickly.

“Hee, what happened?” You were rushing out although you had a pretty good idea, your hands coming up to rub his back gently knowing there was no point in attempting to lift him off the ground. “Are you drunk?”

He was shaking his head to say no but you could smell the alcohol rolling off of him in waves, heavy and gross like he’d been drinking for quite some time before ending up at your door. Your heart ached again thinking about him uncharacteristically getting wasted because how badly you’d upset him. “Can you stand up?”

“Why don’t you l-like me?” He was hiccuping out and totally ignoring what you were requesting from him, gripping onto your arms that were still trying to gently rub his back and he was looking up at you with his big round eyes full of fat tears.

“Heeseung.” You were sighing softly and not answering him, patting him on the back slightly to try and keep his attention on what you were originally saying. “Come inside with me and then we can talk, we don’t want anybody to complain.”

He clearly wasn’t coherent enough to comprehend the second half of what you said but he perked up at the idea of being invited inside, using the support of your doorway and your body to stand to his fully height, wobbling slightly as you helped him inside and lowered him down onto your bed. You tried not to think about the last time he was in here, watching him with tired eyes and frowning.

You were reaching down into his pant pockets to try and find his cellphone, feeling slightly sick at the soft cries he was still letting out as he drunkenly lost control of his emotions. You finally found it and pulled it out, swiping up the screen and pleased to see he didn’t have a password set.

“W-what are you doing?” He was mumbling out as he tried to watched you, not able to keep his head still. You sat beside him so he could see what you were doing on his screen, not saying anything when he rested his head gently against your shoulder. “Jake?”

“Yeah baby, I’m calling Jake.” You sighed softly and rubbed his knee for a second, trying to calm down his sniffles before you called his friend and accidentally caused a panic at the sound of him blabbering in the background.

“Why can’t I stay with you?” He was asking and his voice cracked in pain, the smell of liquor on his breath making you wince. “You d-don’t like me.” He was repeating what he had asked you earlier and shaking his head against your shoulder.

“I do like you.” You eventually managed to say, knowing he most likely wouldn’t remember this conversation in the morning anyways. He didn’t stop crying but he didn’t say anything else for a few moments, just leaning his weight against you as you held his phone and contemplated what to do. He watched as you pressed the call button and didn’t say anything else.

“Dude, where the fuck did you go?” Jake’s voice was slurring through the phone on the second ring, clearly worried and searching for the older boy. “Heeseung?”

“It’s Y/N.” You awkwardly interjected and the silence was heavy. You could vaguely hear him repeat your name to somebody and you assumed he was telling Sunghoon who it was on the other line. “He was outside my door, I don’t know how he got here.”

“We’re on our way.” Jake sighed back but he sounded more frustrated now, maybe at himself for letting his friend drunkenly crawl back to the person who had hurt him so bad. Heeseung cried harder again when he heard his friends comment from where he was laying against you and Jake didn’t say anything for a second at the sound.

“He doesn’t want to go.” You explained in an awkward whisper, not wanting to get in between whatever agreement they had come to about you.

You knew you deserved the harsh tone of his voice and the prolonged silence over the phone while he decided what to do, holding your breath and waiting despite not being too sure yourself what you wanted his answer to be. He was clearing his throat suddenly and Heeseung perked up at the sound.

“I can drop by in the morning and grab him.” He was letting out slowly and he sounded hesitant, Heeseung nuzzling against your neck contently at his friends words. “If that’s okay with you?”

“Yeah.” You were rushing out before you even realized you were speaking, squeezing the boys knee again when he hugged your free arm that wasn’t holding up the phone. “That’s no problem. Thanks Jake.”

Your words had a double meaning and you had no doubt the other boy had picked up on the relief in your voice, humming softly before whispering a goodbye and hanging up the phone. You kept it against your ear for a few seconds longer before turning it off and placing it gently down on your bedside table, looking over at its owner.

He was watching you with a saddened expression and you gave him a smile that didn’t meet your eyes, eyeing his outfit and lack of glasses.

“I lost them.” He mumbled when he noticed you looking, able to hold contact with you better considering he was wasted and not able to see properly. You felt relieved he had somehow managed to safely get to your dorm in this state, thinking about asking him but realizing he probably didn’t even remember. “Sunghoon said I should try to have fun.”

“Did you?” Your voice cracked as you asked him although you already knew what his answer would be.

“Did you ever like me?” He was ignoring your question and spinning it back on you, his eyes sad again even though he had stopped sobbing after getting confirmation he was allowed to spend the night.

You considered not answering him, already having a difficult time admitting it to yourself let alone telling him so directly. Liking him meant explaining yourself, having to tell him why you had talked to him in the first place and just blindly hope he would trust you enough to believe it had become real for you along the way despite having no reason to think you were telling the truth.

“I do like you.” You told him sternly, ignoring how uncomfortable it felt to express your feelings so directly.

He deserved to know it was possible for somebody to like him, he deserved far better than you and the games you had played with him for the amusement of other people.

“I’m not that drunk.” He was shaking his head, potentially figuring out that you were being so honest under the guise he would forget it all in the morning. “We started drinking forever again, I’m just a lightweight I think. I was just upset.”

You could tell he was under exaggerating a little bit considering how he was still rocking back and forth slightly and his eyes were red and glossy but now that he had calmed down he was definitely more coherent, the alcohol just helping him speak more confidently rather than put him in a totally messy blacked out state.

“Ask me again tomorrow then.” You were telling him softly and turning to face him better, cupping his cheeks in your hands and giving him a sad smile.

He seemed to notice the slight tears in your eyes and the heavy guilt you were feeling for hurting him this bad and he stayed silent for a few beats, watching you like he was trying to decide what to say. His drunk mind had brought him back to you but you weren’t sure if he’d want to stay once he was thinking more clearly.

“And you’ll say it again then?” He was eventually asking you and the familiar hint of insecurity was seeping into his voice again.

You knew you’d made it worse, added onto whatever issues the situations he’d dealt with in the past had created but you felt deep in your heart that if he would give you another chance, if he decided tomorrow this was worth a shot, you’d spend as long as he’d allow you trying to fix the damage done.

“I’ll say it for as long as you let me.” You were whispering back to him and his face softened slightly, lips twitching up in a small grin as he nodded softly and let you wipe the remaining wetness from his eyes.

The two of you crawled into your small bed together, clumsily helping him out of his uncomfortable clothes and not feeling any sensual energy whilst carrying out the domestic act, just laughing together under your breaths as you tried your hardest to get him out of his tight jeans.

You were tucking in underneath your blanket, the unfamiliarity of having somebody in your bed with you being overwhelmed by the comfort his presence brought you, his hair messily sprawled against your favorite pillow and looking at you with low and tired eyes. You weren’t sure if he’d feel this content in the morning, if he only accepted your words because the high in his system or the longing he felt for you due to his own sadness.

But you were happy with your situation for now, knowing that if you needed to do it all again for him tomorrow you would. Continuing on for as long as he needed, for as long as he’d let you.

#enhypen #enhypen drabbles #enhypen fanfiction #heeseung #jake enhypen #heeseung drabbles #heeseung x reader #heeseung smut #sunghoon enhypen #enhypen smut #enha smut #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard hours #heeseung fanfic #heeseung enhypen #lee heeseung #heeseung imagine #heeseung fic

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pedge-page · 4 months

Text

You Please, My Pleasure

Sub! Joel Miller x F!Reader

Warnings: Sub!Joel, Mommy kink, cowgirl/riding, orgasm denial, over stimulation, unprotected sex, cream pie, orgasm control, reader’s hand makes a pretty necklace for Joel, themes of free use, objectification, praising words for Joel (sweet boy, etc), bitty breeding kink at end

18+ ONLY

- - - -

You sat In a community table at the cafeteria, over hearing a group of other women chattering about the men they'd been eying up:

"You seen that Joel Miller around?"

"Oh, he's hot as hell. I dont care how old he is."

"So protective, and strong, and firm. Jesus just look at him those broad, muscled shoulders and back. Bet he's a wild night."

"Shhh!"

"Im serious! The lucky girls he's probably pleasing..."

'Did you you hear he's apparently great with a gun."

He could ram his big gun in me any day."

"Shut up Claire! Oh my god."

"I just know it. Bet he could make you ache for days. Half the men here wouldn't compare to a guy like Joel in bed. I just have my own fingers to keep me barely satisfied, dreaming about a hunk like that."

"What about you?"

You hear your own named piped up, apparently leaning too far in to their conversation and now finding yourself included.

"Oh." You glance at the clock behind them, realizing you had to get back to your house instead of listening to the lady gossip of the town. "Luckily I just have my own toy to come home to..." and you escuse yourself with a gentle smile.

There was something beautiful about watching a strong, built, capable man like Joel Miller absolutely fall apart under you. The way his high pitched moans bounce within the confines of your bedroom, not one secret of his confessions ever leaving the safety of these four walls. His flush skin adorned in bright claw marks, almost a way of claiming him under those rugged clothes. His stomach tensing then releasing with each breathy pant, eyes rolling as he tries to hold on to the little control he has over his orgasms.

An unearthly sight. Just for you.

“Ah—ahh fuck!” He cries. Joel’s hips crash up against yours, shaking as he concentrates on starving off his orgasm.

You slow the rocking of your hips to gentle glides, your palm caressing the stubble of his cheek. “Shhhhhh, I know. I know. You’re bein’ so good tonight, baby.”

He nods with furrowed brows, eyes closed and head thrown back into the soft white pillow. His beautiful brown curls splayed out on the satin case like a god. “I’m—I’m bein’ so good,” he repeats, swallowing the lump in his throat as he feels himself regaining composure over the tight coil wound in his stomach.

“That’s right. That’s my good boy,” you praise.

You start a slow rhythm again, softly bouncing on his thick cock that’s been teetering on the edge for an hour now, buried snugly in your suffocating pussy.

“Good boy,” you coo again. “Mommy never leaves your aching cock neglected, huh? Let you live in my warm sopping pussy all day and night.”

“mmmm—yeah—yes Ma’am. Treatin’ me—s’good.”

You’ve trapped his body, your knees caging him between your legs. You can feel the tense quivers in his spread thighs, unable to do much as your ankles have wrapped back over the meat of them, pinning him below you. He can’t fuck up, can’t squirm. If he wanted to throw you off him, there’s no doubt the immense strength in him could. But he doesn’t.

His hands are on your waist reassuringly, only to remind himself that you’re still here, guiding him through it. He’s gotten so much better at not taking back control, relinquishing his mind, body, and soul to you.

You feel the steady twitch of him inside you, dragging so deliciously along your walls, taking full advantage of his girth pushing to the crest of your womb. “You’re the best cock I’ve ever cum on.”

“Hahhhh, oohhhhhgggghhhh, tha—oh f-fuck!—thank you—“ he can’t help the slight canter of his own pelvis rolling up into you, brushing his tip along your cervix. “Thank you, Mommy. I—You feel so good—I feel—feel amazing, sweetheart. J-Jesus fuck. Love—love your tight pussy—choking’ my cock. Usin’—usin’ me.”

“Yeah? You like being my fucktoy?” The hand on his face slow glides to his mouth, your thumb hooking on the side and tugging before letting it spring back to place. You then push your fingers around his thick throat, the other hand planting firmly on his plush chest to hold you up. You don’t crush his neck, only leave your touch there as a warning. You ass slams down harshly on his fat cock, making him hiss, encouraging the new rough fucking you’re giving him. The room fills with the obscene slapping of skin against skin as you ride him harder.

“Yeah—yeah! Ye—ah fuck—fuck yes!” He croaks, teeth gritting as he stares you down with hooded eyes. “I l-love bein’ your little fuck stick. Comin’ home n’ fuckin’ me, fuckmefuckmefuckme!—turning’ me into y-your personal dildo. FUckMommy, yeah!”

His tongue sticks out, smiling hazily as his neck arches, head thrown further back, pushing him into your touch. He looked so fucking pretty wrapped around your fingers.

He doesn’t realize his hands have grasped at your breasts, squeezing them in his big hands.

“Look at me,” you command, breathless yet still pulling your authoritative voice over him. His head snaps back, watching the way your body glistens on top of him with each bounce. Your hips were practically flush together, grinding down on him with precision. “Did I say you could touch my tits?”

He retracts his hands immediately, returning to their rightful place on your hips. “N-No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry Mommy, please.”

You tighten your grip around his throat. “You live— for my pleasure.”

He lets out a guttural groan from deep within his chest. “Yeah—yeah fu—oh fuck, shit—yes Mommy! squeezing’ me so tight, m’just for you, all yours, want you to feel so fuckin’ good, mmmm—” He’s nodding quickly, little wailing growls growing louder as you crash your pussy down on his weeping length over and over again. His lips are parted, fast short breaths being forced out as he feels his pleasure climbing.

“That’s right,” you pant, lost in the prickling feeling of your clit snagging against his pubic hair, smothering your throbbing nub.

“Nnffmmmm—I’m—I’m gonna cum, Mommy. Please, please tell me I can cum,” he whines.

You stop your hips entirely, ignoring the way his face curls into anguish and cries out pathetically. His body is shaking violently under you with the denial.

You laugh wickedly in his face. “No, nonono, sweet boy.” You let him continue to whimper and quiver below, his cock twitching between your folds. You lean down and grip his hair, kissing him with your tongue invading his lips like a serpent in a rabbits den. You suck his bottom lip before pressing your foreheads together, rolling into a slow, devastating grind that has him seizing in near pain under you.

“I still want more cock.”

Joel elicits a small whimper, reducing himself to nodding again. You cup around his cheek once more, a loving, natural tone slipping out of you. “Can you do that for me?”

“Y-yes. Yes.” He coughs obediently, voice strained beyond recognition.

You sit back up, both of your hands digging into his chest and start riding him more aggressively again. “Fuck me like you want to give me more cock.”

He gasps out a pained yelp. Joel’s beefy fingers clench your sides, nails pinching into your lower back. His knees bent, feet planted wide apart digging into the mattress to thrust up into you. He fucks you with vigor, ignoring his own pleasure too rapidly building inside him again in exchange to watch your tits bounce, hear your gorgeous voice flood the air with each powerful ram.

“Ugh—oh yeah, baby that’s it!” You cry, tilting your head up to the ceiling. “Fuck me, fuck me so good, baby!”

But his hips are rutting too high, too fast, breath coming out too shallow. “Oh—oh god, I’m gonna—Mommy fuck I can’t! I can’t stop, I’m gonna—!”

“Don’t you dare fucking cum, Joel,” you snap. Your pussy contracts around the width of his cock in a death grip, unable to stop the aggressive back and forth grind as you chase your orgasm.

He’s shaking his head, eyes squeezed shut as you start to cum around him.

“Oh f-fuCK I can’t—ICAN’T!—I’m—FUCKfuck!—“ His balls draw tight as he releases thick spurts of his seed, load after load filling your convulsing cunt as he forces out harsh pants through clenched teeth—“Mommy I’m sorry! I’m cumming! I can’t stop—I can’t stop fuckin’ cummin—ohjesus I’M CUMMING.” He’s absolutely pouring buckets, each throb of his cock inside you pushes more cum deep into your convulsing womb. The two of you are moaning together in high tune, though his even more desperate, slightly pained after being denied all night.

You settle before he does, eerily quiet atop him as his staggered breaths and fluttering chest calms. When the fog in his mind clears, his eyes fly open, shame washing over him at what he’d done.

“M-Mommy I—“

But you don’t listen, slowly driving back down with his spent cock sloshing in and out of your drenched cunt.

“Ah!” He yells, fingers tightening around your waist in a plea to stop the overstimulation. You yank his wrists off of you and pin them above his head. With each rock of your hips, you feel his stomach tensing and releasing, unsure of the overburdening sensation you’re forcing on his poor dick.

“mmmfffff—nnoo, Mommy, No more, please!”

You still ignore him, rutting your ass back down on his dick now that it’s fully erected again. His seed spills down the base of his cock, wet slaps overlapping with his pathetic pants.

“AURRgghhHH!! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” He begs. “I’m—Mommy—fuck—fuck I can’t!”

“You can and you will.” You state plainly, pace continuing without falter.

His shaking digits desperately try to collide with the death grip around his wrists. “Please, please, how can I make it up to you??”

You smile inwardly. The desperation in his hoarse yet sweet voice, his shaking limps both squirming away and subconsciously thrusting back up in to your tight heat, more, less, more, he’s so unsure of the overstimulation wracking his bones. You liked this Joel. You want to keep this Joel.

And he knows.

“We’re not done until you fuck a baby in me.”

- - - -

Permanent Taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrs-oharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005

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joshym · 1 month

Text

Muse

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Summary: Your struggling artist is desperate for some inspiration.

Word Count: 3.4k+

Warnings: smut (18+ ONLY), unprotected p in v, oral (f! receiving), a smidge of sir kink, some spanking, a lot of fluff because i can't help myself, Jake draws a naked portrait of you (let me know if i've missed anything)

a/n: special thanks to this lovely anon for this brilliant idea. this was way too much fun to write.

this was inspired heavily by that scene from the Titanic. (you know the one.)

as always, thank you to my favorite editor/motivator, @jakeyt.

i hope you enjoy. ♡

“I want you to draw me wearing this.” You reach into the lapel of the robe, retrieving his coin that now hangs from your neck. “Only this.”

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

His frustration is palpable, evident in the nearly incessant huffing emanating from behind the closed door of his studio.

It's moments like these that leave you feeling utterly helpless. There’s nothing you can do, no inspiration you can provide that will pull him from his artist’s block.

He's been holed up in there for hours, since the early dawn, lost in the depths of his imagination, sketching away. You know better than to intrude; he's never been keen on sharing his work until it's finished.

In fact, he's never once allowed you a glimpse into his creative process. "It's the strange doodlings of a mind overrun with ideas. It's not to be seen until it's in its final form," he's reminded you countless times when your curiosity gets the better of you.

Still yet, you're consumed by the desire to witness his beautiful mind in action, crafting masterpieces in real-time, each stroke flowing from his soul through his tireless hand on his Somerset velvet sheets.

But, like any artist, he’s his own worst critic. He’s never truly satisfied with anything he creates, though you are left utterly speechless after each piece he finishes. His mind is a beautifully profound chasm of endless wonder, manifested through his artistry.

You hate when he has these moments of doubt, these instances when he questions whether he’s truly capable of such greatness.

And you especially despise days like today, when he spends the better part of it feeling as though he has a mental brick wall in the way of his ingenuity, hindering his hand from bringing to life what his mind so desperately longs to conceive.

Commissioned pieces, like his project today, always hold the most weight for him— from the need to earn a living, to his persistent worry that his art might not meet the expectations of the client.

It’s not that he doesn’t love doing them, or that he’ll ever stop taking them; quite the contrary, they’re his favorite pieces to work on. They provide him with an added pressure that elicits some of his best work.

But, reaching that point can be rather strenuous for him. It can at times take days, weeks before he discovers the creative impulsion he needs.

And right now, he’s in that very rut, awaiting the surge of inspiration that will reignite his dulled spirit.

There truly is nothing you can do when he’s lost like this, and any effort you’ve attempted in the past has always proved useless.

The one thing you can do, however, is prepare him some dinner.

He’s hardly left his studio today, and you know he’s not eaten much, if anything at all. Perhaps a morsel of sustenance will ignite the dormant embers of his mind.

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

After a quiet tap to the door, he invites you in with a serene voice.

He looks tired, but lovely as ever. The golden hour has officially set in the sky, and the opened curtains on the windows have allowed for a warm hue to encompass his studio, enveloping him in its delicate lume.

“That smells absolutely divine,” he remarks as you enter his studio, his plate and yours delicately balanced in your hands.

“I figured a little homemade pasta would do you some good,” you tell him while you pad across the floor to his work station.

With a sly disposition and a playful glint in your eye, you aim to steal a glance of his day-long project, but alas, you’ve been caught. Your sweet Jake misses nothing.

"Not yet, my love," he murmurs, flipping the page over as he takes your hand, planting a tender kiss over your knuckles. "You know the rules."

“I know, I know.” Your response holds a bit of remorse. You know better, but can’t begin to help the relentless desire to see his mind at work.

Setting his dinner on the desk he’s working from, you move yourself across the small office to the green chaise lounge that sits across from him, silently seeking his permission with your gentle glances. The smile in his eyes tells you that he’s more than happy to be graced with your company for the time being.

After taking a bite of the spinach tortellini you prepared, he unbuttons his white striped shirt, removing it from his shoulders and stretching his arms high above his head as though he’s ridding himself of the weight of his frustrations.

You can’t help your glare, watching him do something so normal yet so intriguing all at once.

His skin is velvety smooth, his chest rising and falling with every breath he takes, his chestnut wavy locks sitting atop his broad shoulders. You’re in awe each time you look at him; the sheer magnitude of his beauty never fails to steal your breath away.

And his necklace, his most cherished piece of jewelry that he wears each and every day. The precious coin, a relic salvaged from a centuries-old shipwreck that hangs against his chest.

The way it sits on his bare skin is nothing short of elating, sexy. It’s a wonderful addition to his already captivating aura.

He’s flawless. Everything about him.

Once he catches your gaze, he responds with a sly wink, eliciting a blush that paints your cheeks a bright shade of pink.

Then, a thought begins to swirl around your mind for a brief moment. One that you’re shocked you’ve not conjured until now.

The vision of the pendant against his bare skin sets your own imagination alight.

“I’ve got an idea,” you propose, your voice soft and sultry, trying to pique his interest even just a little, something that may help the rusted wheels of his mind turn at full capacity once again.

While his focus remains on his work, his right eyebrow arches ever so slightly, and you catch the hint of a grin daring to curl in the corners of his mouth.

“And what might that be, my dear?” he asks with an unknowing, devilish smirk.

As you get up, he hastily flips the page back over to hide his work from you once again.

“Don’t worry,” you say as you move behind him, placing your hands on his bare shoulders. “I won’t peek.”

You glide your fingers along his skin, feeling the subtle rise of each goosebump in the wake of your gentle touch.

He hums inquisitively as you delicately take hold of the clasp of his necklace in between your index and thumb, undoing it in one fluid motion before slowly slipping it from around his neck.

“Be right back,” you say as you head towards the door. “Don’t move.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he responds, a myriad of questions splayed across his features.

With light steps, you make your way down the wooden floors of the hall towards your shared bedroom. Hanging on the back of the door is your sapphire hued satin robe, adorned with a delicate lace detailing along the hem—the one Jake has always fawned over.

The satin drapes coolly against your skin as you slip it on, wearing nothing underneath, save for the weight of Jake’s necklace resting against your chest that you hide beneath the fabric.

You run your fingers through your hair, adding a subtle tousled look, before applying a light blush to your lips and cheeks to impart a bit of natural color to your complexion.

And with that, you're poised and ready.

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

As you turn the corner to face his studio, you see a very weary version of your Jake. His head sits in the palms of his hands, his leg bounces up and down at a rapid rate—a clear sign of the mental battle he’s waging.

This is as good a time as any for your little idea, and you’re hoping that it’ll be the very thing he needs to find some much needed initiative to keep going.

“Hi, baby,” you venture, leaning your body alluringly against the frame of the door.

As he looks up, a familiar twinkle dances in his eyes—a sight you've longed for all day long. It's a glimmer that tells you he's rather fond of the vision before him.

“And what exactly is your idea?” he inquires softly, slowly standing from his chair. But you stop him, motioning for him to stay just where he is as you saunter towards the chaise you were seated on just moments ago.

“My idea,” you begin, making a very slow, deliberate attempt to untie the sash holding your robe together at the waist. “...is for you to draw me.”

As if your thought has affected him physically, his posture immediately straightens, and his once tired eyes hold a renewed sense of life as they watch you intently.

“I want you to draw me wearing this.” You reach into the lapel of the robe, retrieving his coin that now hangs from your neck. “Only this.”

Your robe suddenly falls to the floor, revealing your fully nude figure that was hidden beneath.

“Oh…” he utters, his tongue wetting his lower lip before tucking it between his teeth. “You can’t do this to me, baby. I can’t look at you like this an–”

“Consider it a commission,” you interrupt, tracing your fingers lightly up and down the skin of your torso. “And when you’re finished, if it’s to my liking, you’ll receive a full payment.”

With a raised eyebrow, his gaze sweeps up and down your form, while his index finger lightly grazes his chin.

“You’re quickly becoming my favorite client,” he quips, wiping a stray bead of sweat away from his forehead, tousling the front of his hair in the process. “Consider it done, ma’am,” he continues with a confirming nod of his head.

You lay yourself down on the forest green velvet cushions, positioning yourself sensually across the chaise. Your body is turned slightly to the side, your leg gracefully crossed over the other, an elegant display of your curved silhouette.

The warm glow that is so beautifully cast upon Jake, is now cast upon you, the aura laying over your nude body like a golden blanket of light.

“Is this okay?” you ask him, draping your arm over the back of the chaise, making sure the coin sits meticulously atop your chest before your other arm falls to rest against your body.

He simply grins while nodding his head, his eyes drinking you in, a mix of surprise and desire evident within his expression.

“Yeah, that um…that’ll do just fine,” he tells you, the slight crack in his voice eliciting a smile from you, a break in his professional facade.

With a deep breath, he takes his prized Faber Castell 9000, carefully sharpening the tip just a bit before putting it against a blank sheet.

And then, as the true artist you know him to be, he begins without a hint of hesitancy. The gentle sound of the lead scratching away at the paper fills the quiet room— a sound you’ve come to cherish, a sound that signifies his craft is steadily blossoming to life.

He seems charmingly nervous, his hand gently brushing against his nose every so often between a series of strokes from his pencil, clearing his throat more than usual. His eyes flint to you, then back to the paper, then back to you, a succession of his adoration and determination, ensuring that the likeness captured in his art closely mirrors your essence.

You try to keep your face composed, a seductive allure about your features. But as you watch him, immersed in his passion, the way he’s studying you so intently, it becomes nearly impossible to suppress the beginnings of a smile upon your lips.

But despite your efforts, he takes note of the curve adorning your flushed lips, mirroring it with his own. “Relax your face for me, beautiful.” The soft rasp in his tone is enough to send a blush throughout your whole body.

Breathing in your nose and exhaling through parted lips, you’re able to reclaim your composure enough to steady your expression.

Every moment you share with him is a brushstroke of beauty, but something about this one stands out. The intimacy of it all, how he must diligently study every inch of your form to convey your image through his art, the intensity behind his focused gaze…your heart is racing in your chest, despite your relaxed demeanor.

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

With the sun almost hidden behind the early moon, he completes the final stroke.

He lays his pencil down, gently blowing on the paper to remove any stray lead before he picks it up, examining it closely while he walks it over to you.

As he holds it out before you, allowing you to at last see his craft come to life, you’re left entirely awestruck.

“Oh, Jake.” The sight before you leaves you nearly breathless. It exceeds every expectation, beyond the boundaries of your imagination. It’s a portrayal of you, but not just that— it’s how he sees you.

It’s the first time you’re witnessing yourself through his eyes, and in that, you feel a profound sense of beauty within yourself that you’ve never known.

“Do you like it?” He asks, a slight tremor present in his voice.

“It’s…incredible, Jake.”

Propping yourself up a bit, you carefully take the drawing from his hands, poring over his vast attention to the detail in your face, your body.

Specifically your breasts, how perfectly he depicted their round curve above your rib cage, encapsulating the fullness and allure of them.

You’re entranced by the way he drew the contour of your hips, how he captured the dip in them that you’ve always looked at with disdain, yet in his portrayal, you’re able to see the beauty in what you’ve considered a flaw.

He encapsulated everything, even the faint freckle beneath the curve of your left breast, and the mole under your belly button. He managed to immortalize all the intricate nuances that you typically overlook.

“Is this what I really look like?”

“Yes, but,” he takes the drawing from you, placing it on the mahogany table beside the chaise lounge. He helps you lay back down, gently caressing your face that he’s just conveyed through his artistry as he props himself above you. “The essence of your beauty defies any depiction.”

Then, his lips envelope yours in a kiss so fervent, so ardent, as though he’s waited hours to finally have you within his grasp.

His hand moves with a swift grace to your breast, fingers toying with your perked bud. This erotic moment with him has you already so flustered, so sensitive to every touch of his hands.

He breaks his lips from yours, only to land them down the column of your heaving chest.

“You’ve no idea how hard it was for me to look at you like this, to look at these,” he mumbles against the tingling skin, hands kneading the flesh of your breasts. “And fight the urge to come place my lips on every inch of this beautiful fucking body.”

And just as he said, he bestows tender yet hungry kisses down the length of your torso, maneuvering his body down the chaise lounge until he kneels before you. He nestles his face perfectly between your thighs, his warm breath tantalizing your wet center from his dangerously close proximity.

“I certainly hope you don’t let all of your clients pay you like this,” you mutter, breathless and yearning for his mouth.

“Only the ones that tickle my fancy,” he says, his words adorned with a playful wink before he delves into you.

He laps away at your pulsing cunt, like he’s been starved for your taste this entire evening. The lewd, lascivious sounds he’s emitting from between your legs only serve to heighten your need for him, causing your back to instinctively arch away from the plush cushions.

And when his lips envelop your throbbing clit, his tongue swirling around it inside his warm mouth, your body trembles and shudders. A rush of warmth encompasses you, starting from the depths of your core, the pit of your stomach, spreading to every inch of your being.

You surrender to the intoxicating bliss, your breath catching in your throat while your heart pounds in a crescendoing rhythm.

He guides you through it, gently holding your hips in place while the movement of his tongue slows in perfect time as with the ebb of your climax.

“Oh, that was so beautiful, my love.” He lovingly kisses the inside of your thigh before he stands, removing the belt from his patchwork jeans. “Turn over for me, baby.”

“Yes, sir,” you quietly utter as you obey his demand, knowing good and damn well what that specific name does to him.

Just as he commanded, you turn your body over to your stomach, placing your elbows against the arm of the chaise, your back arched as much as you can so that your ass is sticking up just right for him.

“Love when my sweet girl calls me that,” he purrs before his belt hits the floor, his jeans and underwear quickly in tow and freeing his impossibly hard cock.

“So, what’s the verdict, my love?” You feel the cushion sink in behind you as he settles himself between your legs, his right hand caressing your hip while the other teases your soaked cunt with the tip of his cock, leaking with precum. “Was my work to your liking?”

You giggle breathlessly, poking your ass out even further as an offering to him for his hard work. “Yes, I believe you’ve earned your reward.”

He steadily begins nudging his cock into you, going slow at first, allowing you to fully adjust to him.

Inch by thick inch, he fills you completely to the hilt, your breath catching in heavy gasps that are robbed from your lungs as he buries himself deeply within you.

Your nails claw at the velvet armrest as his thrusts quicken in their pace, your upper body nearly going limp as you’re no longer able to easily hold yourself up.

His hands hold a firm grip at your lower waist, pulling you into his cock rhythmically, yet becoming more and more disordered as he’s beginning to lose himself to the pleasure.

You cry out a slew of obscenities mixed with his name, begging him to fuck you harder, faster.

Without question he complies, landing an open palm against your ass cheek. “So good for me baby,” he hums, his thighs slapping against the backs of yours as he drives into you just the way you need. “So fucking good for me.”

With one more vigorous thrust of his hips, you feel that familiar rush throughout your whole body as your cunt throbs and pulses incessantly around his cock.

“Fuck, I feel you, baby. Pretty little cunt squeezing me so tight.” You feel the twitching of his cock inside of you, an indication that he's on the very brink of his own release.

“Cum inside me, sir. Please…need you to fill me.” Your voice is faltered, your body still reeling from your second climax.

“Jesus,” he groans, moaning exasperatedly as your words have him spilling within you, filling you with his warmth just as you requested.

He stays buried inside of you as he catches his breath, feeling his release slowly trickling down your thighs as you struggle to fill your own lungs.

You have to fight the urge to protest when he begins pulling himself away from you, not yet ready for the empty feeling he leaves you with.

You practically collapse against the cushion, your body exhausted in the most enthralling way, the kind of exhaustion that only immense amounts of pleasure can bring forth.

“My sweet, beautiful girl,” he whispers, kneeling himself before you as he softly caresses your flushed cheek.

You kiss the pad of his thumb as it crosses over your mouth, summoning the strength to lift yourself up enough to steal one from his lips. “I hope it worked,” you say, gently cupping his face in your hand.

“You hope what worked, my love?” He asks, leaning into your soft touch.

“I was hoping this would help inspire you.” You reach for the drawing, savoring its beauty once more. “I was hoping I could help inspire you, pull you out of your moment of doubt.”

“My love,” he murmurs, setting the portrait back down before he gently brushes his lips against yours. “You inspire me endlessly, every single day.”

His tender smile warms your very soul as he leans in for a deeper kiss, imbued with all the love you could ever want for.

“You’re my perfect muse,” he utters against your lips, “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

a/n: suffice to say, this inspired the hell out of me when i've lacked inspiration/motivation lately. thank you, anon.

if you have any juicy ideas, feel free to send them my way. ♡

love you guys.

taglist: (let me know if you'd like to be added/removed!)

@jakeyt @objectsinspvce @stayinginthesun @sinarainbows @stardustcordzz @klarxtr @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @highway-tuna @way-to-go-lad @reesetrippingthelight @jakesgrapejuice @sacredjake @notthedroidz @kiszkashousee @psychedelicstardust-gvf @jjwasneverhere @gvf-ficreads @stardust-jake @gretavanbear @gvfmelborne @sirjaketkiszkasharmonica @jaaakeeey @neptune2324 @jaketlove @myleftsock @joshskittytickler @audgeppp @jordie-gvf @gretavansara @gretasfallingsky @jazzyfigz @louiseecraigg @hippievanfleet @blacksoul-27 @sarafrusciante2 @heckingfrick @citylight-delight @electricgoldtendercare @musicspeaks @hollyco @gvfpal @dannys-dream @josh-iamyour-mama @edgingthedarkness @earthgrlsreasy @hernameis-heaven @mackalah @gvfmarge

Masterlist

#jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka fanfiction #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka fluff #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet smut #gvf fanfic #gvf fics #gvf smut #greta van smut #jake kiszka #greta van fleet

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kybercrystals94 · 2 months

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Just a few things in Season 3 Episode 5 that I can’t stop thinking about…

[spoilers below cut]

The way Crosshair treats Omega like a peer.

This is so different from the way Wrecker, Echo, Tech, but specifically Hunter, ever treated Omega. To them, she’s still the little girl they rescued off Kamino. They know they’ve trained her to be capable; however, it is hard to separate their guileless little sister from the little warrior she’s become both with their squad and during her captivity on Tantiss.

Crosshair never knew or cared about little Omega, the child who’d never seen dirt before.

He’s only ever known and cared about this Omega. The Omega that insisted on building a relationship with him in spite of his trying to push her away for her own good. The Omega who refused to leave him behind at risk to herself. The Omega who can hold her own alongside him during a firefight. The Omega who can fly ships, bribe, and swindle. Crosshair has only known this Omega. Why would he treat her as anything but capable? He will absolutely protect her and have her back, but he will not doubt her abilities.

That’s not to say that the others doubt her abilities. I think they absolutely know what Omega is capable of, but that innate desire to protect the little thing she was has not dissolved just because Omega has grown…which is so true of real life. It’s authentic, and it's difficult and messy. And I love that the show is tackling this.

I also love that Crosshair knows this too. “Don’t hold it against him. He’s only worried about you,” he gently advises.

Which leads me into how I viewed Hunter’s behavior in Episode 5…

He doesn’t trust Crosshair. Why would he? The last time they interacted, Crosshair tried to force them to join the Empire of his own volition. He tried to have Omega forcibly removed from their protection. He chose the Empire over them. And then, they find out that Crosshair became a prisoner of the Empire, and their attempt to rescue Crosshair from his own choices resulted in Tech’s death and Omega’s capture. On top of that, what exactly did Crosshair do to get on the Empire’s bad side? Hunter doesn’t know. And Crosshair isn’t volunteering the information.

I also saw a bit of jealousy on Hunter’s part (although he probably doesn’t recognize it). While we as viewers know that Omega is trying to support Crosshair with his emotional and physical trauma, as well as getting him to communicate with Hunter and Wrecker. On the outside, Omega and Crosshair are almost inseparable, Omega seeking out Crosshair’s companionship (the brother that initiated a lot of the Batch’s heartbreak) rather than the brothers who have taken care of her all along. Gotta admit, I’d be pretty hurt by that too. Again, not at all Omega’s intent or fault that he feels this way, but it would be confusing and hurtful nonetheless.

Crosshair also senses this jealousy. (“Oh, don’t pretend like this is all about me…You’re angry because she escaped with my help, not yours.”) What Hunter doesn’t know is that Crosshair has supported Omega and Hunter’s relationship, not undermined it.

I really appreciated how Crosshair - while hurt by Hunter’s mistrust - does his best to prove himself trustworthy again (although hidden behind typical Crosshair snark). He’s broken his brothers’ trust, and he knows it has to be earned back.

Wrecker runs to hug Hunter and Crosshair after they make it back safely.

Wrecker is the only one of the Batch (besides Crosshair, obviously) who has been on both sides of the chip. He understands Hunter’s perspective and trepidation towards Crosshair; however, he also understands the guilt and fear that comes after being under the chip’s influence and nearly killing your family. While he was also confused and hurt by Crosshiar’s actions after the chip, Wrecker trusts Omega’s judgment. If Omega feels that Crosshair has changed, then Wrecker is not going to question it.

But he’s not going to pressure Hunter to the same conclusion, and he’s been Hunter’s support system for so long–and obviously, Crosshair already has a support system in Omega. Wrecker is going to let Hunter take the time he needs to trust Crosshair on his own terms…and I love that!

I felt that when Wrecker saw them coming back, he could tell they had worked out some of their hard feelings toward one another…and he was thrilled! That hug was more than just happy they made it back safe from facing a monster, but that they are on the path to making amends. Their family is healing. Not healed. There’s still hurts and wounds to work through, but healing.

And the way he embraces his two sullen brothers, smooshing them together so that they are also hugging each other by association…made me smile so big!

The way Echo acts as mediator between Hunter and Crosshair. (Also…ECHO FINALLY SHOWS UP!!)

Omega and Wrecker have been struggling trying to support both brothers while they work through their issues, and then there’s Echo saying, “You can kill each other later…focus!” Echo gets it. He knows they need to work things out on their own terms, in their own time. But first…mission!

Also, I loved how civilly he treats Crosshair when they meet again. Crosshair is 100% ready to receive a negative reaction, and when Echo simply snarks back at him like the good ol’ days, Crosshair is visibly surprised. Even Omega looks happy to see the positive interaction.

When Omega expresses how she wishes she could have done more for the other clones on Tantiss, Echo tells her she did the right thing escaping and getting the information she could to him and Rex…he is such a good and encouraging older brother! I love him!

Special mention goes to Crosshair and Batcher being buddies! The way Crosshair pats and pets her when Batcher comes up to him after they rescue Hunter out of the snow. And then Batcher plops down beside him and Crosshair keeps petting her. My little heart!

#the bad batch #star wars #tbb hunter #tbb omega #tbb crosshair #tbb wrecker #tbb echo #tbb spoilers #the bad batch season 3 spoilers #episode 5 #the return #my thoughts on the character development

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freyadragonlord · 11 days

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One of my favourite things about the end of The S-Classes That I Raised novel (major spoilers ahead),

is the realisation that the reason why Yoojin and Hyunjae's relationship looks so much like a love story at times is because it actually, honestly is.

Like, we know that sctir is a novel about love since the beginning, that's not surprising. Yoojin's capability for loving monsters (both literal monsters and the human kind) and the power of that love is at the centre of the plot.

But by the time you get to the end, you realise - and the author confirms this themselves in their final Note - that Yoojin's relationship and love for 2 specific people was the true core of the story, and what allows him to save the world in the end:

One is, of course, Yoohyun.

And that love is absolute; you cannot say that it's inevitable, cause we know Yoojin had to make a choice when he was a child between Yoohyun and his parents, and he almost chose his parents, but from the moment he decided to love Yoohyun onward, then it was unconditional and eternal. It's the love of a brother, but also the love of a parent and a caretaker.

And the other person is Sung Hyunjae.

And that love is not unconditional nor inevitable or absolute at all. It's not something that can be taken for granted. We actually see, because of how it ended between them before the regression, and thanks to the White Bird's power of seeing possible futures, that there were so many timelines where Yoojin and Hyunjae would have never come to care about each other fully (tho they are always at least somewhat interested in each other, because their personalities are actually really compatible).

But the White Bird also sees that the only possible future where the world is saved is the one where they love and hold on to each other. And that is how the story goes!

So, just like a romance novel, the necessary end is the one where they both love each other and accept that love. And it's not easy to get there! It's a slow burn.

From meeting to getting to know each other, appreciating each other's skills and intelligence, finding out they have fun together but still not trusting each other, to working on building that trust.

They go from a strong but superficial mutual interest to actually caring about each other as people.

Yoojin has to go through the self-doubt of feeling inferior and fearing that Hyunjae will lose interest in him. Hyunjae has to learn to stop pushing Yoojin away because he doesn't know how to handle having someone he cares about so much, and also someone that cares about him, because nobody in the world (except in part Song Taewon) likes Sung Hyunjae as a person, he is only ever admired from afar.

And in the end, after going through ups and downs and a few "break-up arcs", they make it. They accept their own feelings and each other's feelings.

And that's when Yoojin makes the choice to use the power that the transcendents gave him at the very beginning of the novel, to save Hyunjae. Not the world. Not even Yoohyun! Just Sung Hyunjae!

Yeah, the whole "gather 50 S-Class people", the very thing that gives the novel its title. That is not a power that is used to save the world!! It was meant to, but Yoojin is "selfish", and he will always choose to save the people close to him first.

And being able to love someone so selfishly gives Yoojin the power to save the whole world, too. As a bonus! A reward. Just a side effect.

So yeah. Is it romantic love? No. Canonically, there's almost no romantic love in the whole novel.

But is it a love story?? Yeah. Absolutely it is.

#these are my midnight thoughts #have a lot of feelings for them #870 chapters of “why do they have so many romance tropes lmao”#to realise that it is 100% the whole point of the story #reading the side story now #happy to report hyunjae continues to be hopelessly and shamelessly in love #sctir #sctir spoilers #the s classes that i raised #s classes that i raised #s classes that i raised spoilers #the s ranks that i raised #my s class hunters #jinjae #han yoojin #sung hyunjae

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inbarfink · 7 months

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So when I talk about how the Winter King is, on some level, far more removed from original-flavor Simon than Ice King ever was - Betty is the most obvious example. Ice King’s whole obsession with princesses and the kidnapping therefore and general romantic neediness has always been a Mad, Sad and Magical reflection of just how much Simon misses Betty.

Even when he was too far too gone to recognize Betty when she was standing right in front of his face

Ice King always carried the hole she left in his heart. Meanwhile, the Winter King has full access to his old memories, he just forgotten her because he doesn’t care anymore.

Even while he was forcing Princess Bubblegum to dance along in a recreation of that same romantic grief.

But still, I feel like what happened Winterworld version of Marceline is an ever more poetic example, even if figuring out what exactly happened includes a lot of inferences and headcanons.

In “I Remember You”, during yet another emotional breakdown, Ice King accidentally shoved Marceline - and he was immediately absolutely overcome with regret and shame

Because although he didn’t consciously remember what Marceline meant to him, he still retained these feelings of fatherly care and affection. Some sort of core element of Simon’s being that persisted despite the effects of the Magic Crown. Because of that, he couldn't even stand the thought of hurting her, even slightly.

Ice King was capable of doing some fucked-up things in his desperation and madness - but hurting Marceline was the one line he never ever wanted to cross.

But the Winter King?

We only have hints of what went down between Winterworld Simon and Winterworld Marceline. All we know is:

The Winter King and Winterworld Marceline had the same Simon and Marcy backstory as in the Mainworld, and the Winter King fully remembers it - since he conjures a vision of them during his song.

Since Marceline’s Ax Bass still exists in its familiar form, it’s safe to say this version of Marceline did reach adulthood and probably had a pretty similar life to Mainworld Marceline.

The Winter King did something absolutely morally repugnant to the Candy Kingdom in general and Princess Bubblegum specifically. Although at the time the Winter King came to being, Marcy and Peebs were still reeling from that centuries-old breakup (assuming there are no other major divergences in the timeline) - I have no doubt that Marceline still had enough lingering feelings (and also maybe general human decency) that she would not stand for Simon’s actions.

And yet the real Marceline is 100% unaccounted for, only her Ax-Bass remains, in the Winter King’s possession.

Or rather, in the possession of Ice Marcy, an icy duplicate of Marceline as a child living in a gilded cage in the Winter King’s palace - presumably just as lacking in Free Will as the Ice Scouts and any other creation of the Winter King.

The Winter King’s little conversation with Simon about Betty is the best hint we have to Winter King’s motivation for making Ice Marcy. Namely, he suggested making an ‘Ice Betty’ as a way for Simon to get over losing the love of his life. And he’s fully aware that this is unethical - he just doesn’t care.

I think it’s pretty reasonable to assume that Marceline and the Winter King would have some sort of confrontation about what he did to Bubblegum and since the Winter King implicitly compares it to the situation with ‘the dead one’ (Betty)… I honestly think it is not a stretch at all to assume the Winter King killed Marceline.

And even if he didn’t straight-up kill her, I think most scenarios that fall under Occam’s Razor still involve the Winter King knowingly inflicting a great amount of emotional and potentially physical damage to Marceline. And it definitely involves the Winter King claiming Marceline’s most beloved posession as his own and giving it to a false icy duplicate of her child self he made to replace her.

I mean, the fact that he even bothered implies that he at least misses her more than Betty. But his discussion with Simon still means he considers replacing her with a nonsapient magic ice construct that copies not the person she was when she was speaking out against him but the child who adored him to be more than a suitable solution. Which is a demonstration that whatever sort of love remained in the Winter King’s heart for Marceline was a very twisted and selfish kind of love.

Even if you want to argue that the Winter King has nothing to do with Marceline’s disappearance - the fact that this is how he dealt with her being gone shows how much of the love Simon genuinely had for Marcy is now become a hollow and self-centered sort of thing. This is also a form of hurting her. And again, with the way the Winter King is in general - I think it’s very likely he has a lot to do with what happened to Marceline.

Meanwhile in the Mainverse, the Ice King couldn’t even lightly shove her away in a fit of emotions without being overcome with pain and regret.

So which Ice Wizard really retains more of what made Simon Petrikov who has is? The one who kept his identity and memories but has lost all of the love and care that has once motivated him more than anything? Or the one who can’t remember his name or his old face most days but still retains this ever-persistent echo of his romantic love for Betty and his fatherly love for Marceline even if he doesn’t fully understand where it comes from?

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spnhunter4life · 4 months

Text

Not So Bad

Summary: Bad information on a hunt leads to a tense situation that ends in confessed feelings.

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: none

Masterlist

I sighed as I flipped through the pages of the dusty old book I’d picked up out of a mix of nerves and boredom. The Winchester boys and I were in New York of all places. I hated it here. The constant loud noise of the bustling city, the air that was so far from the fresh country air I’d grown used to at the bunker, and, worst of all, the tall buildings that blocked out the sky mixing with the thick crowds of people made me feel severely claustrophobic.

But there was a monster here that needed to be killed, and the Winchesters always went where they were needed. And wherever they went, I went. So here I was, sitting in the library while the brothers went off to kill the thing. It was some sort of demi god named Daemon.

I’d never been much of one for fighting. I preferred to be the designated researcher, helping out in a mental capacity instead of physical. Both brothers insisted I at least learn basic self defense and worked with me on occasion, wanting me to be able to defend myself if the worst were to happen, but they never pushed me to come face down monsters with them.

The book I was currently looking through was one of the three I’d been able to find in this library about Daemon. I’d already found the information I was looking for and reported it to the Winchesters. But now my options were to sit here and wait for the hunt to be over so the boys could come pick me up, or make my way back to the motel on my own, and I was perfectly comfortable where I was. Or at least, comfortable enough that it wasn’t worth braving the crowded streets.

I turned another page, skimming the words quickly, barely absorbing what I was reading. Somewhere in the back of my mind I made the distant realization that I was in a library and could go find a more interesting book to pass the time. I didn’t give the idea much thought, knowing that it would be difficult to lose myself in a book when my boys were in danger. I knew how long they’d been living this life and how capable they were, but that didn’t make it any less scary anytime they took off. I knew every time could be the last, and I didn’t take that for granted.

I was about to close the book and at least find something to occupy myself that wasn’t a detailed explanation of the very thing the boys were facing down, when the sentence I’d just read actually registered in my mind. With a sharp inhale, my eyes darted back to the beginning of the paragraph.

It is a common misconception that Daemon is susceptible to oak stakes dipped in lamb’s blood – a rumor no doubt started by the mischievous deity himself – which is actually quite harmless to him. What most do not know is that Daemon is not a demigod at all, but the offspring of a demon and a faerie. As such, his one and only weakness is a silver blade dipped in holy water.

The blood drained from my face. I’d given the boys the wrong information and now they were off to face an angry demigod – or faerie demon hybrid, apparently – with weapons that may as well have been toothpicks for all the use they would be.

How could I have been stupid enough to not double check the information? I should know better than that!

I didn’t have time to wonder if maybe this bit of information was the incorrect one. Something in my gut told me it was right, and even if it wasn’t, I couldn’t risk letting them go to their deaths, thinking they had the upper hand. I pulled my phone out and immediately dialed Sam’s number. It rang a few times before going to voicemail. Cursing quietly to myself, I tried Dean instead. Voicemail again.

Fear for my boys overrode everything else. They were all I had left in the world and I absolutely could not lose them. I couldn’t live without my sweet, steady Sam. He was an invaluable source of knowledge on all topics imaginable and he had a calm, comforting disposition that seemed to instantly ease everyone in his vicinity. His sense of humor may not have been as pronounced as Dean’s, but I appreciated it just the same and wondered what would happen if I never got to hear his laugh or see his smile again.

And Dean. I couldn’t even let myself think what all I would be losing if he was gone. To an outsider, our relationship looked perfectly polite and comfortable. And it was, I suppose – we always got along well and never had a bad word to say to each other – if not a little strained. Although, that may have been just on my end. He never did seem to feel the tension that I did. I couldn’t blame him for not noticing either. After all, I did everything I could to keep him from knowing just how much I cared for him. Just how much I loved him.

Without stopping to think about it, I quickly exited the library and rushed out into the crowded streets I so despised. I ran in the direction of Daemon’s lair – we had known its location since early in the investigation and had only been working on the details of how to kill him – roughly shoving through crowds of people when necessary.

I was severely winded by the time I reached the abandoned building that Daemon resided in. I was panting in short breaths that seemed to fill my lungs with fire. I didn’t have time to stop though. I spotted the Impala parked in the alley and fumbled a key out of my pocket. I threw the trunk open, grabbed a silver knife and poured a generous helping of holy water over it. I barely remembered to slam the trunk shut before rushing inside.

I slowed down once I was inside. The building was large and I had no idea where any of the current occupants might be. I was just peeking around an open door, knife held at the ready, when a huge crash followed by a yell of pain sounded off to my right. My heart stopped. That was Dean.

Please let him be ok. Please let him be ok. And Sam too. Let them both be ok, I pleaded to any god who would listen.

I crept as quickly and quietly towards the sound of distress as I could, sounds of a fight leading me there. Fear like I’d never felt before ran like ice through my veins, but kept me moving forward. I rounded a corner and felt my heart stop again before picking up a racing rhythm at what I saw. Sam was sprawled on the ground. He’s only unconscious, I told myself. The alternative was unacceptable. Across the room was Dean, pinned to a wall by Daemon, straining to break the hybrid’s grip and thrust his oak stake into its side. Daemon clearly had the upper hand and wrenched the stake away from him, throwing it behind him. I barely stopped myself from calling out Dean’s name.

“You think you can kill me? A puny man, kill a god?” Daemon spat, the rage clear in his voice.

I charged towards them, knife raised and ready. I was only a few steps away when Dean saw me over Daemon’s shoulder. His eyes widened in surprise before he could stop the involuntary reaction. I saw him immediately look away again, not wanting to give me away, but it was too late. Daemon had seen it. He whirled around to face me and knocked me aside without a thought. It was as easy as if he’d been swatting at an irritating fly. Dean yelled my name just as I collided with the wall. My breath, which I hadn’t even quite gotten back after my long sprint here, left me in a whoosh.

I watched in fascination and horror as Dean took advantage of the momentary distraction to rush at Daemon. He kicked his legs out from under him before climbing on top of him, pinning him to the ground. They struggled for a few seconds before Dean was able to snatch the oak stake from where it had been discarded on the ground.

“No, Dean! The knife!” I yelled to him. I had dropped it at some point between Daemon’s blow and hitting the wall. Dean didn’t question me, didn’t hesitate before dropping the useless weapon and searching for the knife. But it was out of his reach and it was clear he wouldn’t be able to hold Daemon down much longer. I started to struggle to my feet to grab it for him, but before I was able to, a large body ran into my line of sight, blocking my view of Dean, and stooping to pick up the knife.

I tensed, terrified that there was some unknown second thing to deal with now, but soon realized it was only Sam. He picked up the knife and turned to his brother. Without speaking a word to each other, Dean rolled out of the way just as Sam plunged the knife down into the heart of the monster.

Dean was red faced and breathing hard – and who could blame him after wrestling with a being with supernatural strength – but otherwise seemed alright, so I turned my attention to Sam who was closer and who I worried could have any number of injuries after being knocked unconscious.

“Sam, are you-”

“What the hell were you thinking?” Dean demanded. Stunned at the hardness of his voice, I turned to look at him and realized that what I’d mistaken for exertion was actually anger. He was livid. I’d never seen him so angry, at least not with me. Why was he angry? This completely unexpected reaction left me feeling small and confused.

“What?” I asked. “What do you mean? I was just trying-”

“You could have gotten yourself killed!” He yelled. He took a step in my direction and a grimace crossed his face as his leg seemed to struggle slightly under his weight. He grunted, the only sound he would let escape. I remembered his yell, the noise that had guided me in this direction to begin with. He was hurt. Dean, who sat stoically with teeth gritted, never letting more than a grunt escape while Sam dug bullets out of him or sewed up horrible gashes, had cried out in pain. That had scared me more than anything else tonight, the idea of how badly he must be hurt to not be able to hide it.

“Dean,” Sam started in a warning tone. He might have been about to defend me or to tell Dean to cool his temper so we could talk calmly, but I would never know. Anger flared up in me, completely overriding the confusion and uncertainty Dean’s words had caused.

“Well you nearly were killed! So I guess it’s a good thing I’m here, isn’t it?” I shouted back. I wasn’t actually angry, I knew, just reliving the terror of the last half hour mixed with the relief of seeing them both ok and the worry at their injuries. In short, I was overwhelmed and Dean yelling at me had frayed my already shot nerves.

“We would have been fine.” Dean deflected.

“No you wouldn’t have! When I got here Sam was on the ground, dead for all I knew, and you were hardly about to win in a battle of strength. And even if you had, your weapon was useless. You would have died!”

“You’re the one who decided you didn’t want to fight! And that’s fine, you know we’re ok with that. But you can’t just not train and then run into a fight with no idea what you’re doing!”

“Guys, maybe we should-” Sam tried again.

“No!” I yelled. I saw a look of surprised hurt in his eyes. I felt bad for snapping at him when he hadn’t done anything wrong, but I was too fired up to backtrack now. “If Dean hasn’t had enough of a fight tonight, then let’s fight! I may not be trained in hand to hand and weapons the way you are, but I assure you, I can yell at you all night long.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed and I saw the muscle jump in his jaw.

“Sam, can you give us a minute?” He asked in a forced calm tone.

Sam hesitated, looking back and forth between the two of us before agreeing. “Alright. But you’ve got ten minutes before I’m coming back in after you to make sure you’re not strangling each other,” he warned before leaving the room.

We glared at each other for a minute, neither of us speaking. After what felt simultaneously like an eternity and only a moment, Dean started talking again in that tone that was an attempt at being calm, but I could clearly hear the tenseness and anger underneath.

“You can’t just-”

“You said that already,” I interrupted immediately. His jaw ticked again, and I knew shouting at him when he was trying to deescalate the situation was not appreciated. He tried again in that same infuriating tone, a little more strained this time.

“Sam and I hardly need you jumping in to protect us. We know what we’re doing.”

“That’s not the point!”

“Then what is?” He yelled back, patience worn thin.

“It doesn’t matter if you know what you’re doing or not because you couldn’t have won! I was doing some more reading after you guys left and I realized I gave you the wrong weapon.”

“Then you call us! You don’t come running in after us!”

“I did call you! Neither of you picked up! I couldn’t just sit there and wait for you to die!”

“Of course you could have! Don’t you think we’d rather take our chances with bad weapons than to have you in the line of fire?”

“What would you have done Dean?” I screamed at him. “If it were you sitting around knowing that I was going after a monster with a weapon that wouldn’t kill it? What would you have done?” I felt confident this would be the end of it. After all, there was no doubt in my mind what he would have done, and he couldn’t possibly deny it.

“That’s not the same thing,” he said. He was still angry, but he said this in a quieter voice, the kind of quiet that meant I’d truly struck a nerve.

“Why?” I asked, ready to swoop in with the metaphorical killing blow and win the argument. “Because I can’t fight, so of course I’d need you to come save me?”

“No.”

“Hypothetically saying I was as well trained as you then. Or that it was Sam. The point still stands. You would have done exactly what I did. You wouldn’t just sit back and let us die, so why would I?”

“I told you, that’s not what I meant,” he snapped. “How do you think we would feel if something happened to you? What if we couldn’t protect you and you got hurt?”

“How do you think I felt, Dean?” I stomped over to him, getting right in his face, letting him see how much I meant what I was saying. “I didn’t know if you would be alive or not when I got here.” I stopped for a breath, the intensity of the emotions I’d felt in that moment hitting me once again. “Don’t tell me I don’t understand what it would feel like. I know exactly what it feels like.”

“It’s not the same,” he said again, stubbornly.

“How is it not the same? If anything, it’s worse for me. You and Sam at least have each other. If I lose you guys, I have no one. I will not lose you. Do you understand me? If that means putting my own life on the line, I’m ok with that.”

“I’m not!”

“Well that’s just too bad, isn’t it, because it’s my life, not yours!”

“You’re not understanding me! If you would just let me explain-”

But apparently I wouldn’t. I wasn’t doing it on purpose, but I just needed him to understand what I was saying. So I cut him off in the middle of his request that I not do so.

“No, I told you that I understand perfectly. It’s you who isn’t understanding! I’ve never been more scared in my whole life than I was when I heard you yelling in pain.” In the back of my mind, I registered that Dean’s expression had turned from anger to determination. But my brain didn’t seem to fully process this fact, not that I would have known what to do with that information even if I had. My emotions were driving me now, and there was no stopping the words pouring from my mouth.

“I thought that whatever happened, it must be really bad. And maybe I was too late to save you. And it’s my own stupid fault you needed saving in the first place. How could I-”

This time, Dean cut me off. It was only fair, after all I’d done the same to him. This was a much nicer, much more pleasant, much more unexpected way of interrupting though. He leaned down, crashing his lips against mine. As my body seemed to be running on instinct and adrenaline right now, I responded immediately, wrapping my arms around his neck, meeting his demanding kiss with enthusiasm.

I ran one of my hands through his hair, enjoying the feel of the soft strands between my fingers. My other hand ran down over his shoulder, to his bicep, then over to his chest, loving the strength I could feel in all those hard earned muscles. His hands were wandering too, in my hair one second, traveling over my back the next, and then on my waist.

My brain, which seemed to have shut down for the past few moments – minutes? – decided to start working again, practically screaming at me that this was Dean I was kissing. Dean, apparently experiencing the same returning brain function as me, pulled away. He took a careful step back, creating some space between us. That was probably good. I couldn’t think with him so close. Not after that. His cheeks were flushed red for a whole new reason now and his hair was sticking up in an annoyingly attractive way. I could see by the surprise in his eyes that he hadn’t been planning on the kiss being that intense.

“It’s not the same,” he repeated, his voice as calm as if we were having a normal conversation on any old day. As if we hadn’t been arguing minutes before. As if he hadn’t just given me the most mind numbing, spine tingling kiss of my life. “Because I love you. And I know that that probably wasn’t the best way to go about telling you, but I need you to understand what it would mean to me to lose you. If you lost me, you’d lose a friend. It would suck, but you would move on. But you’re more than that to me, and I don’t know how I could survive losing you.”

“Have you not paid attention to a thing I said?” I asked him, taking a step forward to eliminate the space he’d put between us. “I told you, if I lost you and Sam I would have nothing.”

“Yeah, but that’s not really true. You could make more friends easily enough.”

“But you’re not just my friends. Sam is my best friend, true, but I love him like he’s my brother. Losing him would hurt me just as bad as losing an actual brother. And you… I couldn’t move on from you any easier than you could move on from me. I love you too.”

“Yeah,” Dean winced. “Like a brother. I know.”

“Not like a brother,” I said, wrinkling my nose a little. “Do you really think I would kiss you like that, or at all for that matter, if that’s how I thought of you?”

“I would hope not,” he agreed.

“So, basically, you’ve been yelling at me this whole time about not understanding you when, in reality, I understand perfectly, just like I said from the beginning.” I couldn’t help but gloat a little at being right.

The corner of Dean’s mouth twitched slightly in a repressed smile.

“You know, I think you owe me for scaring me nearly to death earlier,” he said happily.

“I owe you?”

“Yes. When you came running in here I swear my heart stopped. And then I had to watch you get thrown across the room…” He winced at the memory and I could tell how upset it made him, but he quickly shook it off and kept up his cheerful tone. “I think you took at least three years off my life. Lucky for you I’ll take payment in kisses. One for every year less I’ll live thanks to you.”

Part of me wanted to argue, but the other part was too giddy to even care.

“Alright,” I agreed easily. I stretched up onto my tiptoes and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his mouth. I wanted to continue the intense kiss from earlier, but there would be time for that later. This seemed like the appropriate response to his gentle, teasing tone. “There’s one.”

I kissed him again, and then once more, feeling like I could burst with joy the whole time.

“There,” I said after the third kiss. “Does that make us even?”

“For now,” he smiled. “I have a feeling I’ll be finding lots of excuses for more in the future.”

“How’s this for an excuse? I think you took at least five years off my life. I’ll be needing some compensation here as well.”

He grinned. “And I fully intend to pay up. Once we’re home though. I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to get out of here.”

I was a little disappointed to have to be done kissing him. But I knew he was right. We should get out of here. I knew he was in pain, and I still didn’t know how Sam was doing. Besides, it was only a temporary stop. Once we were home I would have as much time with him as I wanted.

Home. Just the mention of it made me long for it even more. But even though I couldn’t wait to be back, even though I’d spent the whole time here waiting for the moment we could leave, the past few minutes with Dean had made the whole thing worth it.

Maybe New York wasn’t so bad after all.

Tags: @123passwort @buckybarnes-1917 @chicken-nuggs-and-cozy-hugs @globetrotter28

#not so bad #supernatural #fanfiction #dean winchester #sam winchester #confessed feelings #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x original character

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silverzoomies · 8 months

Text

Screwball

peter maximoff x reader smut

warnings: smut, slow burn, kissing, hand jobs, loss of virginity, temperature play, mutant reader, ice powers, porn with plot, clunky writing

word count: 14,151

a/n: im so late posting this. i meant to finish this one like a month ago. but it's already september !! and a heatwave fic seems so out of season !! oh well !! i hope someone out there enjoys this. i went through hell tryin' to finish it. but i'm pretty happy with the way it panned out,,

apologies for the usual: clunky writing, slow as fuck execution, potentially ooc dialogue, etc etc etc kbgsjbdghsoiheg

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Westchester, New York had never seen such a record breaking heat wave.

And in all his reckless, fast paced years up to the ripe age of thirty, neither had Peter.

His fragmented memory is jam packed. Cluttered with disorganized checklists of every place he’s ever been. Not that he’s bragging or anything. But Peter’s basically seen the entire world, and then some. If one were to count those gnarly, X-Men space missions. He’d gone places no non-mutant could ever conceivably dream of reaching. From the deathly cold peak of Mount Everest, to the blistering sands of the Sahara desert itself.

Even with all that collected experience, Peter’s a hundred percent sure; he’s never faced summertime heat as insanely lethal as this.

Okay, sure. Maybe declaring Westchester as hotter than the Sahara might be a bit of a stretch. But to Peter’s credit, this heat wave is dangerous enough to warrant a citywide advisory. Which, in layman’s terms, means: don’t get ballsy. Unless you wanna end up fryin’ like an egg on the sidewalk.

The weather outside is so grisly, in fact, the X-Men themselves had to call their latest mission quits. Imagine that! Crazy, right? A fierce team of mutant heroes, capable of taking on behemoth sized sentinels. And even they didn’t dare another second in the heat.

Peter detached himself from the concept of religion ages ago. But thank the mysterious powers above, whoever they may be. Because he was legit two seconds away from collapsing to the ground, in a boiled heap of skin and bone.

He stumbles off the X-jet on wobbly legs. And no joke, Peter swears his muscles have somehow melted into jelly. It’s supremely embarrassing, the way he struggles to keep up with the team as they move ahead. They all stop before going upstairs, waiting to reconvene with Xavier. Organized in a careless, half circle; the X-Men look as though they’ve returned from an Olympic marathon. Their bodies exhausted, and blanketed in buckets of sweat.

Naturally, on account of Peter’s super dope, mutant genes; his body functioned at a nonstop rate of super sonic speed. As a repercussion, his average body temperature burned leagues hotter than any non-mutant’s. It wasn’t abnormal for Peter to dread the tormenting heat of the summer season.

In the blazing eye of a dangerous heat wave, swarming the city like an apocalyptic storm; Peter’s absolutely certain – like, for sure, he’s teetering on the brink of death. A miserable, stewing-in-your-own-sweat kinda death. Leave it to Logan to recite the eulogy at Peter’s funeral. No doubt, Wolvie would have nothing but positive things to say about Peter after he died. Most definitely.

Peter might be a teensy bit freaked out actually. Since he had no idea he was even capable of experiencing heat exhaustion. It almost makes him paranoid. Like a hypochondriac with a chest ache. In an attempt to force his recovery, Peter chugs through exactly thirteen bottles of dollar store water in a flash. The source of his stash? A stainless steel, mini fridge in Hank’s lab.

He knows Hank’s gonna be totally peeved when he finds the fridge raided clean. But Peter doesn’t bother worrying about that right now. Instead, he makes a mental reminder: Water bottles. An IOU. One he’ll probably forget about within the next two seconds. And never get around to fulfilling.

Professor Chucksters is talking, but Peter can’t find it in himself to listen to a single word. Whatever momentous info the ol’ baldy drops, flies a thousand miles over his feverish head. Peter cranes his neck back in overheated agony, lazily chugging Hank’s last remaining bottle of crisp, cold water. The smooth bite of that cold down Peter’s throat makes him exhale with relief through his nose.

Halfway through, he stops to shower his head in the rest. Letting chilly droplets rain down over his silver hair. Sharp tingles erupt down his neck and across his shoulders. Peter shudders, humming in delight to himself.

Oh. Shit. Wait…

Peter then comes to the regrettable realization that, in a heatwave so hazardous; water is a necessity to be shared.

No shit, blockhead.

Now, mind you, Peter isn’t known for his forethought. He’s pretty overzealous. Had he taken time to stop and think for a hot sec…yeah. Sure. Maybe he should’ve been more mindful of his suffering teammates. Oopsie daisies.

Much like a careless dog, Peter shakes off the cold drops soaking his hair. Sprinkles of water splash all around him, with Jubilee caught in the line of fire. She jumps in place with an abrupt, but silent exclamation of ‘ew!’ Shooting Peter a look of burning fury. Damp strands of Peter’s hair fan over his eyes. He runs his fingers slowly through them to give his forehead some air.

Maybe Peter’s a little delusional. Because he swears on his life he catches a red tint in Jubilee’s cheeks. She scoffs, like she can’t stand his bullshit. He throws her a wink. A beat later, she smiles and rolls her eyes.

Peter smirks. Lucky for him, his speedster charm has yet to fizzle out.

The team waits patiently for their opportune moment to flee. It’s obvious they’re all pretty antsy. Probably since they’re dying to change into something lighter. Better fitted for Satan’s city wide celebration of hellfire and brimstone. Anything but the jumpsuits, at least. But that’s just a hunch.

In Peter’s own personal opinion? The most ideal scenario would be to strut around naked, in nothing at all. Sounds awesome, right? Freedom from the suffocation of needless threads! However, societal standards and modern customs definitely wouldn’t allow such debauchery. Not to mention, Peter isn’t super keen on the idea of peeping his teammates in their birthday suits.

Except for Raven, maybe. He never gets tired of looking at those scales. All that blue. Nice.

Oh. And…you. Frankly, Peter’s willing to risk it all just to catch a glimpse of you in the buff.

He swallows a thick lump forming in his throat, sneaking a lightning fast glance in your direction. Observing you with a gawking gaze, Peter ignores the way his heartbeat kicks up to roadrunner speed. Faster than fast. Like, cartoonishly fast. It’s ridiculous.

You’re completely impervious to any heatwave debuffs. Lucky lucky. Standing there without a care in the world, you listen attentively to professor Charlie Brown’s ramblings. Since you’re so distracted, Peter lets his speedy eyes shamelessly wander. Trailing down the glittering, icy blue of your jumpsuit. Uniquely personalized to coincide with your wintry gimmick.

Which doesn’t at all explain why it’s so inappropriately skin tight.

Peter feels himself choke on his next breath. But he’s quick to blame it on the weather. Yeah. It’s just the heat that’s stifling him. Nothing else. Get real, dude.

The sparkling material of your suit hugs your figure a little too perfectly. Complementing every irresistible curve. Peter always thought you looked so ludicrously fine in that suit. If not way, way, way too distracting. Sometimes, he found it ultra hard – ignoring any euphemisms – to maintain focus during missions. Usually because your frosty ass came twinkling in his peripheral, throwing off his mojo.

But let’s chalk Peter’s lack of focus up to his chronic ADD instead, ‘kay?

Heck. Maybe it wasn’t the ADD’s fault. At least, not entirely. Like, cut the bullshit for a sec. Peter doesn’t have a lot of sexual experience. He’s never gone any further than a dozen heated sessions of heavy petting. And from time to time, though he hates to admit it; it haunts him. The way he’s so suppressed. Overflowing with pent-up desire.

Thirty years old and still a virgin? Clock’s ticking, Quickie. No wonder he can’t take his hungry eyes off your body.

Speaking of your body.

Damn, is it hot in here? Or is it just you?

It’s most definitely not you.

Your body naturally radiates a refreshing aura of frigidity. It’s no coincidence, the way your teammates linger so closely in your proximity. Peter can’t really blame them for doing so. You’re the human equivalent of an icebox. Even a touch of your finger could turn the entire X-mansion into a winter wonderland. Part of him wonders why you haven’t done so already. Since you’d be sparing everyone the infernal anguish of this awful heat wave.

Maybe you’re just as absentminded as he is.

Anyway, right about now, Peter desperately yearns to be a long lost tub of neapolitan. Stuffed deep inside your metaphorical freezer.

Which…sounds way dirtier than intended.

Fuck. Alright. Moving on.

Tugging at the collar of his jumpsuit, Peter fights to catch his breath. The fierce heat from outside has somehow seeped its way into the X-Men’s base of operations. Almost like an act of god. Or more like a punishment, maybe.

In desperate need of relief, Peter looks to you once more. He finds himself struck with an ingenious, lightbulb moment then.

A blink, and he bolts, appearing directly behind you. A faint gust of wind flutters your hair. But the breeze fails to even make you flinch. Peter isn’t the least bit subtle with his actions, as he presses his burning body a little too closely into your back. And hoooooooooooooo mama! The sweet relief of your icy presence is so worth any consequences, should they arise.

You whip your head around suddenly, giving Peter a weird look and a once over. He can’t really blame you for staring at him like that. Sure, you’re both teammates. Even family, one might argue. You’re both fighting for the same cause. But you haven’t built an inseparable bond with Peter or anything.

Honestly, he’d be totally down if you did. But that’s neither here nor there.

Peter always thought you were pretty damn cool. In more ways than one, if your glacial mutation was included in the mix. If he were more honest with himself, he would’ve acknowledged his dumb, boyish crush on you an entire ice-age ago. Oh well.

He’s still too much of an awkward spaz for his own good sometimes.

You seem…confused. Staring at Peter as if silently asking him a question. If he had to guess, it’s probably something along the lines of – what the hell do you think you’re doing, you handsome scoundrel? Peter exchanges your puzzled look with an uneasy smile. Dramatically, he fans himself with a hand. Hoping you get the hint, he pokes his tongue out to playfully express his suffocating torment.

Thankfully, you pick up what he’s putting down. As you turn back around, you giggle cutely. Peter breathes an alleviating sigh. He’s left to bask in the glory of your wintry aura. So freeing, and so, so cold. He could kiss you as a thanks, if only you’d let him. But you’ve already directed your attention to Xavier’s painfully long lecture.

Wait. Seriously, how long was this talk supposed to last? It feels like a million years at this point and-

Peter checks the Star Trek watch on his wrist. It’s only been…five minutes. Huh.

The gathering of ye olde X-council draws to a close. At long last! Xavier wraps up his spiel of heroic efforts , world peace , and wonderful work everyone. Bla bla bla. Don’t get Peter wrong. He harbors a lot of respect for the guy. Any other day, and he would’ve found those words somewhat awe inspiring. If not the slightest bit misguided.

But today? Professor, dude, now’s not the time to be preaching words of wisdom. Your nerd club’s literally cooking from the inside out. Give it a rest.

The team wastes no time. As soon as Chuck’s given the go-ahead, they’re gone. High-tailing it upstairs as fast as their tired legs can go. Which isn’t all that fast. At least, not by Peter’s standards. But he’s hella impressed with the enthusiasm.

Unlike everyone else, you move at a frustratingly slow pace. Walking behind you feels akin to waiting too long in a DMV line. Something Peter’s never had to do a single day in his life. And he’s not about to start now. It’s monotonous, and borderline infuriating. But his heightened impatience is probably just another consequence of this outrageous heat.

You take your sweet ass time – and holy moly, did you have a sweet ass – as you ascend to the first floor of the X-mansion. Peter follows after you like a lost puppy, not too far behind. On your way to – presumably – your room, you climb another, dreaded flight of stairs. And since when were stairs a hindrance to a speedster like Peter? He’s never once felt winded making a simple ascent like this. Ever.

Peter’s growing more and more restless. His skin feels sticky and uncomfortable under his jumpsuit, but he can’t rush home to grab a change of clothes. He’s unwilling to risk a race through whatever hellscape lies in waiting outside. No matter how little time it takes him. Not while his lungs are cooking to a crisp.

He aches for the touch of your icy hands. Plain and simple. Nothing to it. Nothing sexual. No strings attached.

Unless…you had a preference for strings. Peter would tie them around his wrists and move like a marionette puppet if you asked. Shit, you want a whole show? Bring out the dancing Muppets.

Midway through your ascent, Peter appears in front of you. He stops you suddenly, leaning casually with his hand against the wooden railing. His other hand rests on his hip. Lamely, he forces himself to act as naturally as he can. Which is virtually impossible, considering the circumstances. But even so, Peter throws you his signature grin and nods his head.

Be cool, dude. Be cool. Ease into it. Just try not to think about how you’re literally baking to death here.

His overheated exhaustion is impossible to miss. Even a dense chimp in a blindfold could sense something’s off about him. The quick rise and fall of Peter’s chest is a dead give away. Revealing how labored his breathing really is. Trickles of sweat race in a tense competition down Peter’s temples. Warm heat pools in his cheeks, and his skin appears ghostly pale.

That…might be the reason you gaze at him like you’re worried sick. As if you’ve seen a haunting, silverette ghost. Peter looks like he’ll pass out sometime within the next five minutes. Realistically, he should probably seek medical attention immediately. But he fakes his aloof casualness anyway.

“Heyyyyy, what’s the haps? Where’re you headed in such a rush, Screwball?” Peter asks, somewhat condescending.

“Screwball?” You narrow your eyes, puzzled, “Oh, y’know, my room probably? I might take a nap. Why?” You laugh despite your confusion, crossing your arms. Fixing Peter with a look that only suggests one thing: suspicion.

Fair enough.

He nods, rapidly tapping his fingers on the railing.

“Cool. Coooooool. I can dig it. Nothin’ wrong with that. I mean, who wouldn’t wanna spend a summer afternoon like this lazin’ around in bed, amiright?”

Good. Nice and easy. Peter should probably stop there, and speak no further. But his hazy, addled mind works on autopilot. The words race past his lips faster than he can keep up.

“It’s hot as hell today too. So, you could totally sprawl out butt ass naked and-”

Too late.

“...Yeah?” Based on your expression alone, Peter knows he’s made a total ass of himself. By some miracle, you don’t deck him with an icy fist of freezing fury. Not that you seemed the violent type to begin with.

“Wait, no-” He abruptly pauses to try and make sense of his thoughts. A stifling heat in the air swarms his head, drowning Peter in hot molasses, “Oh. Gah! What the hell am I even saying? Sorry, that was-uh…that was totally weird, right? Uh, lemme start over-uhm-”

Peter clears his throat, masking his mortification with his speedster charm. Super popular with the ladies. Tested on the battlefield of life and approved. A five star rating. No need to question why he still hasn’t managed to get laid, like ever.

“Sooooooooo…anyway. Y’wanna hang out?” He asks, cheesing a dorky grin.

“You never ask me to hang out with you. But today, of all days…that’s when you do? Everything’s closed, Peter. Y’know, because of the heat advisory? I mean, clearly…you look like you know.” You gesture to Peter himself.

A sweaty sheen coats his skin. He really should’ve taken a cold shower in the communal washrooms. At least before confronting you like this. Man, he really screwed this up. If this interaction falls flat, Peter’s just gonna bail. Maybe he’ll try and stuff himself in that mini fridge of Hank’s. He’d be way better off there. Until Beastie finds him, anyway.

“Uh, yeah? Pffft …no duh. I knew that. But, so what? Just ‘cuz there’s some lame stuff happening outside. That doesn’t mean we can’t do somethin’ totally cool inside. Know what I mean?” Simple and subtle.

“Hm…” You think on his offer for a moment. But it feels like he's aged another thirty years by the time you reply, “At least let me change first, okay? You probably should too! I know you gotta be burnin’ up in that jumpsuit, sweetheart!”

A dopey smile plays on Peter’s lips, pressing into his dimples.

So…sweetheart, eh? That’s a new one.

Politely, you push past Peter to make your way up the remaining stairs. Without any forethought or plan of action, he cuts you off again. He slides across the floor into your visual radius, worn sneakers squeaking along polished wood. Wait…why’s he losing his balance?? Peter doesn’t usually lose his balance. Shit.

Ah. he’s lightheaded now. Great.

You’re close enough that Peter can feel the tempting coldness radiating off your body. Oh, man. If only you’d envelop him in your frosty arms completely. You could even lay on top of him like a blanket of snow post avalanche. Anything. Please. Peter is so beyond desperate to beat the heat, he’d let you pelt him with a flurry of snowballs. At least then, he wouldn’t feel a spark away from igniting into flames.

Staring at him with an impatient look, you tilt your head and furrow your brows. Awkwardly, Peter shifts on his feet. Thick humidity overflows his lungs, close to bursting with the force of an atomic bomb. Breathing is near impossible at this point. Peter may as well bite the silver bullet, before he finally kicks the bucket.

Godspeed, or however the saying goes.

“Hi…sorry. Okay-uh…hear me out, please?” He begs. Peter brings his hands together in front of him like he’s praying at the altar, “This is gonna sound weird. Like, next-level weird. Yer probably gonna think I’m a huge creep. And I’m not tryna freak you out ‘er anything. ‘kay? Like, I totally get it if yer not down for this. ‘Cuz, y’know, we’re not really all that close. Plus, you probably have other stuff you’d rather be doin’ than helpin’ out some loser like me, but-” Peter rapidly stammers over his words.

Way to go, ponyboy. Graceful as ever.

Holding out a small hand to politely silence Peter, you utter his name in the sweetest tone he’s ever heard. Hushed, soft, and so gentle. Your voice is the equivalent of candy to his eardrums. He kinda really digs the way you sound when you talk. So courteous and nice all the time.

Be still, his palpitating heart. Seriously. Calm down. Or he’s literally gonna die.

“Peter?”

“Uhyeahwhat?” He stammers again.

“Are you…okay? You’re sweating like crazy. You look like you’re gonna pass out, dude.”

Peter throws you an ‘ok’ sign with a hand, his grin sluggish.

“Peachy keen, baby.”

He swears with every fiber of his sweltering soul that calling you ‘baby’ made you blush. But, y’know, since he’s a little bit doubtful, he might have to test that theory again. Just to be a hundred percent sure. Break out the ol’ chalkboard and sketch some x’s and o’s like a scientific diagram. Top of the line research. He’s the leading psychoanalyst in speedster charisma.

“You sure about that?” You ask, arching a brow, holding an easygoing smile.

Taking a few steps closer, you bless Peter with your emanating chill. He doesn’t at all expect you to raise your hand. Peter swallows a thick, blistering lump in his throat. Frozen in place, he watches in slow motion as you bring the tips of your frosty fingers to his chest. Brisk, winter cold spreads in fractals of frost over his jumpsuit.

Freezing heaven on scorching earth. It’s sorta…poetic, in a way. Peter blinks rapidly, caught in a mind-altering daze for a beat or two. Your touch really is like a miracle cure, alleviating that stifling thickness suffocating his lungs.

“W-Wow. Okay.” He chokes awkwardly, cheeks flushing. His skin tingles under his jumpsuit, “Wow. That’s cool. Literally cool.”

“Peter?”

“Mmmmmmhmmm?” He hums, slouching his shoulders. Peter shamelessly relaxes under your wintry touch.

“You’re suffering in this heat, aren’t you? You need me to help you out?”

Stupidly, like a colossal, doofus dumbass, he shakes his head. You’re offering the exact thing Peter came to you for. A golden opportunity. He’s really hit the jackpot now. All he has to do is face the music, and admit it. Just be honest. Say it, doofus!

“Huh? Naaahhhh! Pffft …why would-...hey, I told ya! I’m juuuust peachy, Screwball! Don’t gotta worry about me!”

Hanging in the air by a delicate string, is a tension Peter’s too stunned to identify. Taking another step closer, the swell of your breasts meets his chest. The hand you’ve placed over his speedy heart trails tantalizingly slow, up to Peter’s flushed cheek. His dark eyes flutter closed, and he almost falls face first into your touch.

“I can take care of you, y'know? I really don’t mind, honey. It wouldn’t be an issue.” Your soft voice exudes genuine compassion. The sweet, gentle attention burns his skin to a boiling point, his veins melting underneath.

That unidentifiable tension in the air permeates, thicker than summertime heat. Despite the relieving cold you’ve given him to bask in; Peter finds it even more difficult to breathe. It confuses him, the way you act so nice and considerate. And now? He’s melting entirely.

Literally. No dramatizations. Peter can feel his damp skin drooping slowly off his bones.

He’s already close enough to death as is. What’s with the tenderness and affection, huh? Were you going out of your way to make sure he dies faster? Have some humanity, for Geddy’s sake. Jeez.

“I-uh…I…” Peter stutters, at a loss for words, “I wouldn’t wanna put you out like that, but…uh…”

“Alright. Whatever you say.” You steadily pull your hand from Peter’s face, “Offer’s still on the table, though!”

Wait. Wait. Wait. Why are you pulling away? No, no, no! You can’t pull away! Not yet! Come on!

All at once, the soothing cold you’ve gifted Peter disappears. No thanks to the steaming fever brought upon by his overheated, speedster body. He nearly whines at the loss, pulling his lip between his teeth to stifle any embarrassing noises.

It takes Peter only a millisecond to give in. With a slower reaction time than usual – not really all that slow, from an outside perspective – he darts his hand out in a flash. Peter lightly grabs your wrist, stopping you from retracting your hand any further.

“Wait-” Peter groans, acting hasty. Frustrated with his own awkwardness, he rolls his eyes, “...I’m…I’m literally dyin’ here, okay? Like, no joke. I think my heart might actually explode. And I…kinda can’t breathe right now? So, uhm…can you just, like, touch me? Just a little bit? But not-” He panics suddenly, eyes widening, “N-Not like-...not in a weird way, I swear!”

He almost tacks on a suggestive ‘unless you really want to,’ but decides against it. Better not, lest he dig himself into a deeper hole. So far under the Earth’s surface, he’ll come out the other side. Not a bad idea, actually. Maybe it’s cooler over there.

“And I’ll totally make it up to you. I promise. Pinky swear. Cross my heart, hope I don’t die of heat stroke.” He insists.

You giggle again, cute as can be. It’s not the least bit condescending either, thankfully. Peter feels the weight of a billion megatons finally lift off his shoulders. With a nod, you take his hand in yours. A surprisingly intimate gesture, since the two of you have never done anything quite like this before. Hell, you’ve never spent time with each other one-on-one outside of the X-Men.

“C’mon, you silly goose.” You lightheartedly joke.

Your affection catches Peter off guard. Not that he’s got a problem with it. No siree. In fact, his heart might’ve skipped a few beats. A lazy smile plays at his lips, as you guide Peter down the hall to your room in your usual, slow stride.

Oh, sweet, frosty sanctuary calls.

As soon as Peter steps inside, you quickly close the door behind you. Feeling somewhat out of place in the unfamiliarity of your space, Peter distracts himself with the posters on your walls. He casts quick glances over the silly knick-knacks occupying your desk and dressers. Turns out, your room has a lot of personality. Neat.

He overhears a faint click suddenly. Whipping around to find you locking the door, Peter narrows his eyes in thought.

Huh.

Maybe he’s overthinking. Probably. But doesn’t locking the door like that suggest some…implications? Then again, Peter could be looking at this in all the wrong ways. Like, okay, if he were being realistic? More than likely, you didn’t wanna risk someone walking in. Not while you got handsy with one of your teammates in your room. Totally reasonable, he thinks.

But then-

Leaning your back against the door, you steadily unzip your glittering suit. Pulling the tiny, snowflake zipper down just enough to expose the swell of – Oh, hellllloooooooooo snowy cleavage. Where in the world have you been all his life? Peter has to refrain from whistling.

Okay. You totally did that on purpose, didn’t you? That was completely intentional. And Peter’s definitely not reading too far into things. He’s most unequivocally not letting his attraction to you affect his perception of a simple gesture. Not at all.

He can’t control his lingering gaze. Peter’s droopy eyes follow the slow movement of your hand, his mouth falling agape in a heat-exhausted stupor. Somewhere around him, he can barely make out your voice. But it’s muffled. All noise. Akin to a teacher from a Peanuts cartoon. Bwah Bwah Bwah Bwah.

Peter blinks.

“Huh? Sorry…you say somethin’?” It’s a failed attempt at a recovery. Peter taps his temple, “Gotta couple screws loose in here right now. Y’know, heat’s kinda gettin’ to me.”

You arch a brow, gazing at Peter like you see right through his bullshit. And yeah, he’s gonna go ahead and bet you probably do.

“Uh huh?” You scoff, giggling, “I asked if you’d be more comfortable on the bed, doofus.”

Moving closer to your bed, you bend over to adjust the fuckload of plushies resting on the blankets. Wow. Check that out. It’s like a Toys R Us threw up. A colorful mess of too many plushies for Peter to count. There’s barely any space to lie down, even if he wanted to.

Doing a quick double take, he glances between you, and your occupied bed. Peter sways where he stands, light headed from heat exhaustion. His brows shoot up in unexpected surprise. He whistles through a suggestive grin.

“Waiiiit, seriously?” Peter huffs a charming laugh, “Wow. Didn’t peg you for the direct type, Screwball. Y’wanna take me out to dinner and a movie first?”

“Dinner and a movie? I dunno, Peter. You’re askin’ for a lot.” You giggle again, acting nonchalant. You make your way around the room to a record player on a corner shelf. Neatly organized vinyls are aligned meticulously next to it. As you poke through your collection, you continue, “But sure. Fuck it, right? Why not! What movie?”

Distracted, as he usually is, Peter glances curiously around your room. Framed photos, postcards, and letters adorn your walls. Pinned carefully in place. Some of the photos, he suspects, are of your family. Others, more than likely friends. There’s even a few group photos of the X-Men together, bringing a fond smile to his face.

Bwah bwah bwah bwah?

Wait. Shit. You’re talking again. And Peter totally missed whatever you said.

“Huh?” Peter darts his head in your direction, watching with half lidded eyes as you set up the record player.

“Dude.” You roll your eyes affectionately, chuckling, “I said, is it hot in here, by the way? Just wondering. Since I can’t really tell.”

“Oh-” Peter exaggerates a sigh, “It’s really bad, babe. Like, sooo bad. I’m definitely gonna die if you don’t come over here and put those icebox hands on me, like, right now. Seriously.” He snickers, falling limply backwards into your bed.

Several plushies bounce with the impact of his weight. Some tumble onto the floor. Others topple onto Peter himself, but he leaves them be. He clutches a Beatles Blue Meanie plush to his chest. Breathing in quick, muggy breaths. Peter finds he’s even more consumed by the record-breaking heat. It’s a miracle he hasn’t disintegrated into a pile of ash by now.

“Howard the Duck.” Peter adds, staring at the ceiling in cloudy thought. He twirls the Blue Meanie in his hands.

“Pffft…what?” You laugh, “What are you even-”

“That’s the movie I wanna see. When you take me out? I wanna watch Howard the Duck. Oh! And I want popcorn too. Can’t watch a movie without popcorn. But it’s gotta be one of the big ones. With extra butter. And some candy-”

“ When I take you out. C’mon, really? Dude, didn’t critics totally pan that movie? I swear, I saw that in the paper just recently! It’s such an awful movie, Peter!”

“Uh, yeah? And so what? That’s kinda what makes it the ultimate date move, babe. Check it out – we could have the most awesome time makin’ fun of it.” Peter throws his head back further into your bed, peering at you from upside down, “Ooooh! Did you hear about the duck boobs scene? No joke. I kid you not. It’s got duck titties.”

A mellow tune slowly encompasses the quiet, muggy space of your room. Peter instantly recognizes it from the first few beats alone. Obscured by Clouds. Pink Floyd. …Cool. Peter’s pretty fond of that album himself. It’s not necessarily his favorite, per se. But it’s awesome enough. And it’s perfectly fitting for the mood of sweltering, summertime vibes too, he thinks.

“I didn’t until now.” You sarcastically scoff. Meandering towards Peter on your bed, “Spoilers, dude.”

He brings his head up to look at you. Spreading himself out, Peter knocks more of your poor plushies to the floor. Carelessly, he drops the Blue Meanie plush. Letting him fall to his ultimate demise. Au revoir, his blueness.

“Right. My bad.” He snickers. After a beat, Peter adds, “I love this album, by the way. It’s a nice vibe.”

In your eyes, he must look a lot like a beached starfish. Sprawled out and helpless. Drying to death in the heat of the summertime sun. Peter has his long legs hanging loosely off the edge of your bed. Moving in between those spread legs, you carefully climb onto the bed. Your knee stops just short of his crotch. As you inch yourself further over his body, Peter’s eyes widen. He blinks slowly, feeling hot beads of sweat roll down his temples.

“I know you do.” You grin down at him with a warm gaze. Peter’s lungs threaten to shrink into nothingness.

“Y-You do? Huh…no shit?” He appears put off, raising a silver brow, “How’d you know?”

You shrug, keeping your grin, “Guess I pay more attention to you than you think, hmm?” Perched over Peter with a palm to the sheets, you brush the silver bangs out of his eyes, “You got any limits?”

Peter blinks again, dumbfounded.

“Lim-...uh, what now?”

“Limits, y’know. Like, where am I free to touch? Anything you’re not comfortable with?”

“Oh. Uh…you can…touch me anywhere? It’s whatever yer comfortable with. Yer the one doin’ me a favor here.” he gazes at you with an unsure, sleepy eyed look. Nervously nibbling his lip, tasting the salt of his sweat, “Do you-uh…do you do this kinda thing a lot? Fer…other people?”

“Nope.” You blink down at him with that genuine, sweet smile again. Shrugging, “Just you.”

A subtle aura of addictive cold radiates from your body like a light. Peter can feel the faintest hint of it as you move in close. It teases him, promising sweet relief from the merciless summer heat. With his lips parted, Peter stares longingly into your eyes. His smile reveals a glimpse of his front teeth, as he snickers in disbelief.

“Uh huh. Alright. See, now I know fer sure yer just messin’ with me.” He bashfully laughs.

“Not yet I’m not.” You throw him a coy wink. Innocently, you ask, “Where do you want me?”

Which could so easily be misconstrued. Dammit.

Yeah. So, this one’s definitely on him. Peter’s inexperienced, sexually charged instincts immediately jump somewhere totally depraved. He’s a little ashamed of that fact. But hey, who’s the one climbing over him on their bed? Who’s the one fluttering those pretty lashes? Giving him those flirtatious smiles. Come on. Really? No wonder he’s lost his mind in the gutter.

Where do you want me?

Peter’s dark eyes immediately dart to his crotch for less than a second. But it happens so fast, he doesn’t doubt you missed it.

“Uhhhhh…I dunno. I didn’t…I didn’t really think about it? But, you cou- HHHHHHhnnnnnnnaaaaaaa-”

Frigid cold invades the exposed skin of Peter’s neck, as you press your hand gently there. A tiny thumb brushes his adam’s apple. Shivering, Peter bunches his shoulders. Tingling chills surge across his body.

“That’s good. That’s g-great. Awesome. Totally awesome. Thanks. Thank you.” He chokes in a rush, instantly melting into your icy touch.

Relaxing his body in your bed, Peter’s head falls loosely back. He breathes a long sigh of relief, his mouth falling open in a dopey smile. His eyes flutter closed as he laughs. Steadily then, your hand travels lower. Grazing frosty fingertips over his chest. Your fingers soon find the zipper of his jumpsuit, and you tug it down a little further.

That heavy tension from earlier grows a thousand times more distracting. For whatever reason, the mellow melody of Pink Floyd’s ‘When You’re In’ only seems to heighten said tension. Almost like it’s setting a certain kinda…steamy mood.

Did Peter wake up in some cheesy, VHS porno? He’s definitely living the plot of one.

Peter flutters his eyes open, met with the sight of you on your knees over him. Your gaze appearing heavy, focused intently on your task. You nibble your lip in thought, looking fine as hell while doing so. Pressing your small palm to his chest, you finally grace him with glorious cold again. Right over the sweaty abomination for a shirt he wore under his jumpsuit. He’s almost embarrassed that you’re even touching it.

Using your glacial gift, you manifest more coolness. Allowing it to spread all over Peter’s body. He sucks in a harsh breath, freeing his lungs from their heated asphyxiation.

There it is. Sweet, icy sanctuary, at long last.

“Ohhhhhhhh …” Peter groans, “Nice.”

His adam’s apple bobs in his throat, his veins straining under his skin. Digging your nails firmly into his chest, you manifest snowy trails of glittering frost. The biting cold nips at his skin over the fabric of his shirt. Like walking chest first into an arctic glacier.

“Is this helping you much at all?” You ask, barely above a whisper.

“You have nooooooooo idea, babe.” Peter breathes a grateful sigh, “This is, like, so amazing. Thanks. I owe ya one.”

“Nah. Don’t worry about it.”

Your freezing hand meets Peter’s sweaty forehead, pressing into his skin. Like you’re checking his temperature with the gentleness of a mother’s touch. Humming to the music, you card your cold fingers through his damp locks. Firmly massaging Peter’s scalp.

Peter lets his eyes drift shut again. His mouth falling open out of his control. Leaving his hair, you bring your attention back to his body. Watching him carefully for any sign to stop, you tug the wet, frost nipped fabric of his shirt. Bunching it up over his neck, exposing his broad chest.

He shoots an eye open, fixing you with a curious look. Feeling hot skin under your soft palms, you slide your hands over his raised pecs. Your fingers gliding in a touch as delicate as powdered snow. It sends sharp chills down his spine. A sensation he’s quickly finding extremely addictive and all too pleasant.

Instantaneously, something clicks in Peter’s brain.

A beat, and your touch goes from relieving, to downright pleasurable. Even sort of…arousing. Peter immediately reacts, arching his back in an abrupt jolt. He laughs his surprise through a broken moan, tossing his head back for the umpteenth time.

“O-Oh, fuck.” He chokes, loud enough to disturb whoever occupies the room next door.

Peter’s so righteously fucked now. Because he really shouldn’t be as turned on by this as he is. It’s just…he’s so boiling hot. Miserable as hell. And not only are you finally breaking him free of hellfire’s tyranny. But you’re also touching him sorta intimately. Peter’s really not immune to attention like this. Especially not from a stone fox he’s super attracted to.

His nipples harden under your frigid spell, perky against the tips of your fingers. Peter hisses, whimpering another moan without meaning to. Your only response is to giggle. Curiously, you tilt your head. Quickly taking notice of the way Peter’s noises have changed in pitch.

They’re more like moans of ecstasy now. Because, well, they sorta are. Whoops.

Lowering your hips, you suddenly move to rest on Peter’s lap. Just to give your knees some much needed rest. His hammering heart threatens to burst straight through his ribcage. Rising from the bed onto his elbows, Peter tries to protest.

“Wait! Wait, don’t sit- hoooohhhh.” A throaty groan slips off his tongue.

The full weight of your lower half drops onto his lap. Right over the stiff hard-on in his jumpsuit, doing little to hide itself. Your ass is so outrageously cold against his crotch and… oh, fuck. That’s so perfect. Peter groans again through a shuddering breath. Limply, he lowers himself onto his back. Hoping to conceal his shame, he brings his hands to his face.

Except, there’s no denying his obvious desire anymore.

“Auuuuugh.” Peter curses himself, “Shit. I am seriously so, so sorry-” Your name plays on his tongue in a desperate, apologetic tone, “I-I really…I dunno why I’m so-uh…I’m not usually-”

“Hey, don’t worry! It’s okay. Believe me, I don’t mind…”

Gosh. There you go again, doing that thing. The thing where you act so unexpectedly understanding in the face of an awkward situation. But even then, Peter can hear your smooth voice waver. Despite all you try to hide, he can tell. You’re just as nervous as he is, but ultimately better at masking it.

He doesn’t see it, but you gaze down at him rather suggestively. A fresh, newfound sense of lust lingers in your eyes. Raking your nails teasingly down his chest, you draw numbing streaks of snow, making him wince. The frost manifests seamlessly from your fingers, tickling Peter’s ever burning skin. It melts instantly, leaving beaded droplets.

“Does it really feel good when I touch you like this, pretty boy?” You tease, that waver in your voice barely leaking through again.

Wooooah. Okay. Okay. Hold up. Rewind. What?

Peter isn’t hearing you wrong this time. He couldn’t be. It’s impossible to misread the dirty tease in your tone. In the blink of an eye – rapid fire speed – the blood pooling in his cheeks vacates straight to his dick. Peter’s cock twitches, pulsating under his jumpsuit – under you – and shamefully unveiling just how horny he really is.

The high-speed boom boom boom of Peter’s heart skids to a deafening halt. His exhausted lungs finally collapse. Squeezing out his final remnants of life. If someone were to hook him up to an EKG, he surely would’ve flat-lined. Sayonara, suckers. This foolhardy speedster’s at the end of his road.

But…what’s this?! Peter’s still alive and breathing? Who could’ve predicted such a phenomenon??

He lowers his hands from his flushed face, peering over the tips of his fingers. His black coffee eyes blown exceptionally wide.

“Woah. Hold on now. What?” Peter snorts. He shakes himself free of total shock, frantically nodding, “Uh, yeah? It feels…really fuckin’ awesome, to tell you the truth.”

“Mhm?” You hum a sensual vibration, biting your lip, “Mind if I try something bold then?”

Peter arches a curious brow. You’re kind of a little minx, aren’t you?

“Literally? You can do whatever you want with me, babe. I’m all yours.” He heaves an exasperated laugh.

A smirk dawns your pretty lips, and you shimmy backwards over Peter’s lap. Until the bulging swell of his hardness lies before you, squirming under his jumpsuit. Teasing him, you drag your biting touch down to his crotch. Euphoric cold dances across his pelvis. You stop short of his hard-on, and Peter draws in a ragged breath.

“Awww…feelin’ a little stiff, sweetheart?” You coo in a sultry sound. Peter feels his blood pressure drop to a life-threatening degree, “Let me help you out.”

Testing the metaphorical, frozen waters; you bring your frigid palm over his bulge. You watch Peter for any sign to retract your hand, fixing him with an intense look. But to your surprise, his cock doesn’t soften under your frosty touch. Not like one would expect. Oh, no. The opposite happens, in fact.

“Mmmmhh…oh my god.” He moans, his front teeth clamping hard into his lip. Jolting in response to his own sensitivity, he rolls his hips into your small hand, “Please…”

You squeeze the thick length of him as well as you can over his jumpsuit, applying more pressure. Awkwardly stroking his dick with your wintry tipped fingers. The bleak touch you cast sends chills racing through Peter’s veins, and sharp pleasure rises in his groin.

“F-Fer the record, by the way, this is not how I expected this to go.” Peter shivers, breathlessly chuckling.

“Oh, no?” You mutter, climbing over Peter on your knees. Glacial breath ghosts his lips. You lean in close, giving his cock another firm squeeze, “Hope you’re not too disappointed.”

“Fuuuuuuck no, baby. Not a chance.” Peter groans his reply, lifting his hips. Yearning for more of your gratifying chill. Another wintry wave of cold seizes through his groin, and Peter’s eyes roll back, “Holy shit. That’s it.”

Peter finds himself a little conflicted. His brown hues can’t decide if they wanna gaze into your own, or stare longingly at your lips. In the past, Peter thought about those same lips more often than he’d admit. But to be so up close and personal with them like this…

“I’m not even gonna lie to you, Screwball. I really wanna kiss you right now.” Peter admits defeat. Even in your polar proximity, humiliation burns his cheeks with the force of hellfire.

Knitting your brows, you narrow your eyes. And for a painfully long instant, Peter thinks he’s finally fucked up. As if confessing his desire to kiss you was somehow a step too far over the line.

Is there even a line left between the two of you anymore? Or did you both trip over it the moment you gave him ‘fuck me’ eyes?

You lean in a touch closer, quietly chuckling. Cold puffs of air fan over his lips, a needle-thin space away.

“You’re so silly, y’know that? Why do you keep callin’ me Screwball?” You ask, placing a tantalizing kiss to the corner of his lips. Like the touch of a delicate snowflake, “You make it sound like you think I’m crazy.”

“Well, okay, first of all, you gotta be some kinda crazy. ‘Specially if yer screwin’ around with me.” Peter jokes. He’s beyond winded under the teasing brush of your soft lips, “S-Second of all, it’s an ice cream thing. You ever-uhm…stop by an ice cream truck before?”

Why’s he even doing this? Making casual conversation like it’s a date at the diner. Peter half expects you to pull away. Since this is the least sexiest thing he could be doing. Amazingly, you remain where you are. Trailing kisses across Peter’s cheek, down to his ear. Leaving feather-light sparkles of frost in your wake. Still, they melt within seconds.

“Yeah. Of course I have. So?” You mumble.

He tenses as goosebumps descend down his neck. The tight grip you have on his dick doesn’t let up. Any words Peter planned on saying seem completely lost on him now.

“Uhhhh…Screwball’s the little…it’s got the-uh…gumballs at the bottom. It’s, like, a cone-”

Righteous work, casanova.

“Right. And I’m Screwball because…?”

Damn you, little minx! You know why. The answer’s totally obvious. There’s no way you’re that dense. Nah. You’re just so set on teasing Peter, tempting him to nervously ramble. Like you find his embarrassment…humorous or whatever. Pfffbbtt …

“You messin’ with me? It’s ‘cuz it’s ice cream, yeah? No duh. And ice is, like, yer thing, babe. I dunno. It made more sense in my head.” Peter laughs in spite of himself, “Listen…can I please kiss you? Before I make even more of an ass outta myself?”

In this position, Peter can’t kiss you. Even though it’s all he can think about. You’re too busy mouthing at his neck, grazing his skin with your teeth. Fondling his cock in freezing strokes, making him whine under his breath.

Up until this very moment, Peter’s hands remained mostly still. He’d dig his fingernails into your blankets, as the pleasure of freezer burn simmered in his pelvis. But he held himself back from ever really touching you. Since this little interaction wasn’t supposed to end up like this to begin with.

But now? Well…shit.

You knead at his junk like you’re making biscuits, flicking your icy tongue across the skin of his neck. Eliciting another husky whine from deep in his throat. Peter’s pretty sure, judging by your forwardness; you wouldn’t mind so much if he touched you just a little, right? Like, you totally wouldn’t protest if he brought his large hand to the back of your head, would you?

He threads his fingers through your soft hair, tugging your head back gently. Pulling you from his neck, just so he can meet your wanton eyes again. There’s a single second of hesitation, as both of Peter’s hands claim your cheeks. That second seems to stretch for what feels like an hour, while Peter memorizes the features of your face. His racing, speedster heart leaps at the sight.

He swiftly pulls you down for a kiss. It’s clumsy as all get out. Initially, anyway. But if there’s one thing he can actually pride himself on? At the very least, he’s had a lot of experience with canoodling. Kissing you comes as naturally to Peter as running does. His skillful lips and tongue guide yours effortlessly. Coercing you into a heated makeout session. Against his own, your lips are frosty cold. Like drinking crisp water straight from a chilled glass.

Or…it’s more like he’s lapping his tongue across some kind of…slushy ice cream. Like…a Screwball cone, maybe?

No?

Fuck it. Whatever. The only difference is, you don’t taste anything like cherry. You taste like you. And Peter would argue that’s almost better. Almost. Cherry’s pretty hard to beat. It’s a tough competition.

As you fall victim to his bitchin’ makeout skills, Peter indulges himself. He touches you the way he’s dreamed since forever and a day. His hands glide thick fingers down your chilly body. Feeling every glittering facet of your suit under his fingertips. Meeting the curves of your hips, he squeezes them firmly.

“Mmmmm…this is awesome.” Peter breathes, “This is really fuckin’ awesome.” He hums into your lips, stifling a moan by kissing you again. You stroke his clothed cock a little faster, and he chokes, “O-Oh…yer so awesome. Fuck.”

“You’re really awesome yourself. But I’ve always thought that about you.” You titter, nuzzling his nose so tenderly, “The others on the team? Yeah. They’re alright. But you? Peter, you’re the coolest.” You admit with a bashful smile. After locking him in one more, passionate smooch, you pull away, “Sexy too.”

“W-Wait, really? Are you bein’ serious right now?” Peter asks, stupefied. He furrows his brows. Another beat, and he forces himself to smirk proudly, “I-I mean…well, yeah. Pssshh …of course. Why wouldn’t you think that? I’m the bomb, baby.”

Peter keeps his hands on your hips, feeling your ravishing curves. Stroking them with his thumbs. They fit so perfectly in his grasp. And Goddamn, Peter doesn’t ever wanna let go. Mark his words. Right here, right now. He’ll glue his hands to you forever if he has to.

Lowering your ass over his crotch, you keep your erotic gaze focused on his. Your intense eye contact never seems to break for even a moment. Pressing into the exposed, damp skin of his chest, you brace your freezing hands over Peter’s pecs. A filthy moan teases your lips, as you roll your gorgeous hips forward and back. Grinding into his needy bulge.

Oh.

This is happening now. Fuck yeah.

Peter squirms in place, tightening his hold on your hips. His nails tear at the tiny sequins of your jumpsuit, digging into the sparkling material. It’s such a needlessly skin tight thing, for fuck’s sake. Criminally skin tight, even. How did Xavier ever greenlight that? Peter can see the tempting outline of your pussy in it, deliciously rolling into his clothed cock. His mouth waters at the sight. Lifting his hips off the bed, he meets your slow thrusts.

“Ohhhhh. Oh, what the fuck-” He moans an octave louder.

A strangled sound catches in his throat, and you’re quick to shush him the moment it frees itself.

“Pietro, honey, you gotta be quiet, okay?”

Hushed moans pour from your parted lips as you speak his given name. Peter’s completely bushwhacked at the mention of it. Since no one ever – excluding his mom, in her more frustrated moods – uses that name. A tickling flutter erupts with a burst in his belly. He almost creams himself at the sound of that name in your voice.

“Come on. Be good for me. You can be good for me. Can’t you, baby?” You plead. Moving your hips in a painfully slow, steady rhythm.

“Fuuuuuuuck. Babe, please-” Peter begs, “Faster? Faster, please. Yer killin’ me."

Your sharp nails sink into his bare chest, manifesting more glassy shards of frost. Winter cold seizes Peter’s body entirely, infecting him with frostbite’s kiss. Peter knits his brows tightly, his dark eyes mesmerized with your every movement. The freezing solace permeating from your pussy proves a little too overwhelming. As sharp, pinpricks of cold rush through his veins; it all morphs into carnal heat.

His muscles quickly tighten, every inch of him tensing in an instant.

“Wait wait wait! Fuck!” Peter whimpers in desperation, a flurry of moans erupting from his throat. His rock hard cock twitches, pulsating under you as he cums. Leaking thick streams of his seed into his boxers and jumpsuit, “F-Fuck! I’m sorry, baby! Ohhhhh god! I’m so sorry.”

As far as Peter knows, you have no clue he’s a virgin. Until now, he was content with that. He hadn’t planned on announcing it anytime soon. In hindsight, it’s pretty fucking embarrassing how easily he comes undone. All from a little dry humping, no less.

Yeah. You’re bound to figure it out sooner or later. Yikes.

Sticky, white pearls of his cum seep through his jumpsuit, staining the material. Your erotic motions slow to a stop, once you notice the streaks sticking to your clothed cunt. Tilting your head, you raise a brow. A delicate blush swarms your neck and ears, as you stare down at Peter with genuine surprise. He tilts his head back shamefully, sighing.

“D-Did you just-” You hesitate to continue. Wintry fingertips trace over his bare chest, “Damn, Quickie, that was fast.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.” Peter sighs again, bringing his fingertips to the bridge of his nose, “Dammit.”

He squeezes his eyes shut tight, feeling blistering warmth rapidly return. Taunting him with the promise of death by suffocation all over again. Before he finally succumbs to it, you crawl over him. Knees braced on either side of his body.

“I’m…god, I’m really fuckin’ sorry about that.” Peter awkwardly stammers, “I-I just…fuck! Yer just so-”

You shush him, chuckling, “Don’t apologize, sweetheart. That was so, sooooooo hot. Really hot, if I’m being honest.”

By virtue of his blessed genes, Peter takes very little time to recover. And hell, you make it an impossible feat not to chub up all over again. Your arctic tongue intertwines with his hotter one, as you meet him in another sloppy kiss. Cold hands grasp his cheeks, quickly sliding through his hair. Dragging your nails across Peter’s scalp, you kiss him with more urgency.

Peter sneaks his hands to your juicy ass, warm palms feeling at your plush booty cheeks. He gives one of them a light, playful smack. Drawing out a squeak from you, Peter giggles into your mouthy kisses. He’s distracted enough, he almost doesn’t notice you tugging the zipper of his jumpsuit.

“C’mon, get this thing off already.” You pull the zipper down even further, murmuring through frantic kisses, “Before you die of heat stroke in my bed.”

With a hmph , Peter nods his head, “Hey, if it’s life ‘er death? Guess I’ve got no choice then, huh?” He replies, fabricating his confidence, “Just a sec.”

Peter sits up fully on your bed, his feet absentmindedly kicking a few plushies on the floor. You slide off the bed entirely. Stepping back to give Peter the space he needs. From your perspective, the removal of his sweaty jumpsuit takes less than a second. But from Peter’s own POV, it’s a thousand years before he finally pulls himself out of his clothes. Clumsily, he peels his sticky limbs free.

“Fuckin’ shit-” He curses, struggling to free one of his ankles once he’s done.

He hadn’t noticed it before, but a faint air of raw cold filters through the space of your room. With his body free of stifling clothing; Peter can finally embrace that coolness in full. It bites sharply at his skin, making him shudder. Peter inhales a slow, deep breath just to feel it all

“Oh, wow! It feels damn good in here, Screwball! Like, woahhh! I feel like I’ve been sweatin’ my balls off this whole time until now.” He says.

“That’s the most charming thing you’ve said all day.” You sarcastically chime. And he snorts.

Peter promptly rids himself of his sweat soaked shirt, aching to feel more frigid air on his skin. He tosses the drenched fabric to the floor. Left in his cum stained boxers, Peter shifts uncomfortably on your bed. Self consciously, he gazes at you with a doe eyed look. He twiddles his thumbs in his lap.

“Sooooooo…uh…a-are you gonna take off yer-uhm…” Peter gives you a once over, gesturing to your jumpsuit.

He lets his long, sturdy legs hang off the side of your bed. Watching as you take slow steps backwards, pulling that tiny, snowflake zipper of yours. Dragging it all the way down. A mischievous spark twinkles in your eye, and Peter’s heart skips a thousand beats. Even though you’re trying your best to be sexy, you’re still just as clumsy as he was.

Which somehow, ultimately makes you even sexier to him.

You peel your limbs out of your glittering jumpsuit. Revealing the underwear beneath, fitting your body in all the right ways. Peter’s adam’s apple bobs, his eyes flitting up and down your curvaceous form. Drinking in the image of you almost completely bare.

“Holy shit.” Peter mumbles, leaning back and bracing his hands on your bed.

You’re giggling again. Blessing his ears with a precious sound he’s grown to adore over the last…however long it’s been since you invited him in. Peter can’t really remember. It’s impossible to hold any sense of rational thought while watching you like this. Especially when you pull off everything except your little, lace panties. Freeing your-

Whoaaaaaaa, mama.

There they are. In all their beautiful, freezing glory. Your icy cold knockers bounce freely. And with a flawlessly executed jiggle, too. If Peter had a sign, he'd rate them a perfect ten.

The skin of your breasts is heavenly soft, dusted in a faint motif of frosty snowflakes. Nipples perky.

Peter's wondered about those suckers for ages. And you most definitely don't disappoint. He whistles, his eyes flying open. Black pupils dilating like drops of heavy ink. No matter how hard he tries, he can't tear his gaze away from those bouncy beauties.

"Damn, Screwball…" Peter grins, shaking his head, "Yer a smokeshow, babe."

Subconsciously, he palms his hardening dick over his boxer briefs. Momentarily grimacing at the texture of drying cum in the fabric. His focused gaze lingers a little too long on your totally righteous titties. You're talking again. Speaking words in that sweet voice, though they go unheard.

Bwah bwah bwah bwah!

You must have given up on trying. He barely sees you coming, as you collide your lips with his again. Shocking him out of his boob-induced daze. The moment you're in close enough range, he reaches out to touch you. Burning hot palms fondle your breasts, fingers toying with your nipples. Furrowing your brows, you squeal into his mouth.

"Your hands-" You whine, "Your hands are so hot. It's like you're on fire." And Peter chuckles a heated breath in response.

"See? And that's why we're here. Gotta beat the heat somehow, eh?" He says, his hands playing with your frosty titties. Silken and cold on his skin.

Sinking to the floor, you lower yourself onto your knees. Peter knows without an ounce of doubt; your poor knees have to be aching like hell right about now. Yet, you persist. He scoots a little further at the edge of your bed, allowing you to ease yourself between his spread legs. With one less layer of clothing in the way of your touch, the coolness feels even more crisp and harsh over his cock.

“God, you’re so pretty…” He mumbles.

Peter stares down at you in awe, curling his fingers into the sheets. Biting your lip with an impish grin, you ease his boxers off completely. As your glimmering eyes meet the full length of his cock, you're instantly enamored. His dick, colored a scarlet hue and pulsing with thick veins, bounces over a silver bush of hair.

You haven't even touched him directly yet. But Peter can already feel that freezing aura easing in close. Swiping your tongue across your plush lips, you gaze at Peter's dick like your hunger hasn't been satiated in weeks.

No words are spoken between you both. As one of your hands treads carefully. Barely touching his thickness with your fingers. You stroke him in slow, but firm motions at first. Peter arches his back in shock, the cold like electricity rushing through his veins. Arctic temperatures rapidly pump his body full of adrenaline.

Maybe that’s why he’s so into this. Being a speedster, he’s always been addicted to the rush of exhilaration.

“Ohhh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” Peter moans.

Your strokes slide up to the swollen, purple-ish head of his cock. Squeezing tightly. But the tip is too outrageously sensitive. A simple, icy cold tug of it gets Peter practically seizing. White light flashes through his vision. And just like that, he’s going totally mental. He jumps with an abrupt jerk, his body vibrating.

Peter whimpers in quick gasps, “Ah! N-Not the tip, baby! Not the tip!”

You make a quick retreat, sliding your hand down to the thick base of his length. Pumping his vascular cock in a frosty fist. He can feel his blood vessels constricting with every motion. Cold creeps under his skin, bringing with it a burning sensation. Peter’s groin tightens, and his moans turn to pleading whimpers.

With a cheshire grin, you flutter your lashes over a naughty gaze. Leaning forward, you tease the smooth length of his cock with your lips. Kitten licking a vein with the tip of your tongue.

“W-Wait! Hold on, Screwball! Fuck-” One of Peter’s hands finds your head, clutching strands of your hair between his fingers, “It’s too much, baby! I can’t-”

A long, chilling swipe of your tongue brings momentary crystals of ice. Igniting the burn along his skin. Peter never thought himself a masochist. But this freaky, frosty jerk-off session has somehow completely rewired his brain chemistry. Pain never felt so good.

In all your wickedness, little minx, you refuse to heed Peter’s warning. Your mouth engulfs the scorching heat of his cock. Surrounding him in a crisp, cold shroud. Bringing upon him a vengeance of the bleakest kind. Like a frostbitten hug, sending shockwaves of pleasure fluttering through his bones. Peter’s breathing quickens.

“Ah! FUCK! Gonna fuckin-...I’m fuckin’ cumming, baby! Sorry, sorry, sorr-” He falters over broken whines.

Acting on impulse like the total spaz he is, Peter panics. Tugging your head from his cock so he doesn’t bust a load in your mouth. He lags a few seconds behind. Late again, as per usual.

Peter accidentally showers your precious lips in his cum. Painting your face in hot, messy strands of it. He writhes in place, sluggishly rocking his hips forward. The spurting tip of his dick kisses your lips, the length bouncing with every eruption of thick, sticky heat.

For a second time in a row, he’s blown his load prematurely. Impressive, in a really lame way. But, hey, even if Peter feels a little bad for glossing you in his cum. He’s gotta admit, you look drop dead gorgeous like this.

Peter quickly snaps out of his post-nut daze, his eyes dancing across your decorated face.

Ah. Actually, now that he’s thinking somewhat clearly again…it’s a little gross. He fumbles over an onslaught of apologies. Reaching to the floor for his discarded shirt without thinking, he wipes your face clean of his nut.

Wait. Fuck. Why’d he use his shirt? Shit. Get it together, Quickie!

As always, you’re just as chill about this as you have been everything else, “That wasn’t so bad. But thanks. Sorry about your shirt, though.” You giggle. But all Peter does is shamefully laugh in response.

You’re perceptive enough to catch onto his sudden hesitance. He tenses, avoiding your pretty eyes. Bouncing a nervous leg at the speed of a rabbit’s kicks. Twice now, you’ve seen him finish way too early. And though he knows in his heart you wouldn’t judge him for his lack of experience; a small part of him fears the worst.

He really likes you, actually. It’d hurt like hell if you thought less of him over something so trivial.

“You okay there, sweetheart?” You ask. Playful, but still concerned.

Peter’s heart aches in the presence of your gentle nature. Swallowing his pride, he opts to confess. And if you think him pathetic for being a thirty year old virgin? Fuck it. He’s betting Hank’s mini fridge is still vacant.

You’re resting on your knees in between his legs, tracing feather-light, frosty patterns into his thigh. Peter’s skin swiftly erupts in goosebumps again, his body never accustomed to your arctic touch. Taking a deep breath, he drops his head forward.

“I…gotta be honest with ya about somethin’. I’ts-...” Peter cuts himself off with a sigh, burying his face in his hands, “I’m kind of…a virgin. Y’know, if you couldn’t already tell. I just…didn’t wanna say anything.”

“Pfffttt …” You puff in disbelief, like you’re assuming he’s messing with you. But Peter blinks, staring down into your eyes with a look that tells you he’s all business, “You’re serious? But, Peter, no offense? I’m really surprised! You always seemed like such a player. Like, you flirt with literally everyone.”

Peter stares at you in silence. He shakes his head, brows furrowed. A timid grin curling into his lips.

“I guess? I talk a big game, yeah. And I’ve made out with a lotta girls. Screwed around a few times. But…nah. I’ve never-uh…actually, really screwed. I dunno if the timing was never right or what, but…” He shrugs, feigning nonchalance. Despite fighting an internal war of crippling shame.

“Well, we’ll just have to remedy this then, won’t we?” Your hand rises to his chin, thumb tenderly stroking rough, silver stubble.

His eyes fly open, cheeks swarming a bright red. A beat, and Peter’s dick already twitches to life again at the prospect of your offer. However, despite his body’s insatiable desire, he waves his hands and shakes his head.

“N-No! No, babe! Listen, you don’t have to. I really wasn’t implyin’ anything when I said…uh…it’s just…I-I’ve never told anyone. That's all!”

“It’s fine! I said I would take care of you, didn’t I?”

He swallows, caught off guard by your choice of words. ‘Take care of you.’ His brows raise high, and the cartoonishly fast pounding of his heart returns. Fluttering in his chest, hiking up to sonic speed. Peter opens his mouth to protest, to remind you that you shouldn’t feel pressured into stealing his v-card.

But you’re already pushing yourself off the floor, climbing over Peter on your bed. With your icy hand to his chest, you guide him down onto his back. He gazes up at you with an uncertain, but lustful look in his dark eyes. In spite of the significantly cooler temperature of your room; Peter’s entire body breaks out in a humid sweat.

Okay. Calm down, man. Take a chill pill. Relax.

“You got any condoms?” You ask, blunt and up front.

So. This is really happening, huh? Yeah. Peter’s gonna lose his v-card to one of his teammates. No biggie. Screwing his fellow X-Man Screwball? Totally not a big deal.

Peter swallows dryly again, an awkward chuckle vibrating over his tongue.

“Not on me, no. I don’t really-uhhh…carry those around.” He makes a hasty move to sit up, “But I can run to the store really quick and grab some. Y’wanna snack ‘er a drink while I’m at it? I could really go fer somethin’ sweet like-”

Your frosty lips capture his in yet another, intimate kiss. For the sake of Peter’s inexperience, you take your time. Guiding Peter down onto his back once more. Working with tender consideration. When your tongue so lovingly swirls with his, he scowls. Tasting the lingering bitterness of his nut. He curls his lip.

“Euuuugh! Augh! Blegh! Is that really what I taste like? Eck! I’m so sorry, Screwball. I’ll try to spare ya next time. Eugh. That’s disgusting!” He rambles, overcompensating for his uneasy nerves again.

“Next time?” You raise your brows. Supple, wet lips smirking.

“Y-Yeah? Yeah…like… pfftt …if you want…” Peter shrugs, casual, blinking puppy dog eyes, “I dunno about you, but I’m havin’ a killer time fuckin’ around like this.” He adds, fingers toying with the hem of your panties.

Reaching for his cock, you take his length into your icy cold grip. Peter jolts again, cursing under his breath.

“I need to confess something too.” You say, bashful. Peter watches your facade of confidence diminish for a moment, “Would you still wanna do this if I told you I’m just as cold on the inside?”

“Woah…yeah. Listen, that is the opposite of a problem for me.” Peter reassures you, looking between your bodies, “Call me crazy? I’m really diggin’ the whole cold thing.”

He watches your fingers hook through the hem of your panties, sliding them down your smooth legs. It’s a bit awkward for you to get them off in this position. But eventually, you’re entirely exposed.

No more messing around. This is the real deal.

Wiggling your ass, you position your wintry cunt over his cock’s swollen head. Peter’s fingers tremble as they grab your ass for purchase. Holding you steady, he keeps his lidded gaze on your pussy. Entranced in the sight of your puffy lips lowering over his tip. Barely nudging it in, giving just a little tease of what’s to come. He shivers, muscles locking, shockwaves of glacial cold racing through his veins already.

“Ohhhhhhhh …wow…” He whines, teeth clamping his lip, “Please, ya gotta gimme more than that, baby.”

“Pietro, be patient.” You chastise him, fluttering your eyes closed.

Sighs and erotic moans of euphoria rise from the both of you in unison, just as his leaking tip dives through your cushiony walls. Peter shudders again, craning his neck back. Moaning a broken, strangled sound from deep in his chest. The tight, freezing sting of your cunt causes him to tense up. Peter digs his nails into the flesh of your ass, his lips parting for breath.

“Mmmmmfffuuck. You good? You okay?” You ask, little mewls bubbling in your throat.

Through frantic, wordless intakes of breath, Peter nods.

He’s never felt anything like this in all his thirty years of life. It’s a completely new sensation. The plushiest of pins and needles constricting tightly around his cock. Or the world’s softest pillow, pulled straight out of the freezer. Sex with you is the kind he could so easily become addicted to. If it was possible to stay connected this intimately forever, he’d do so in a heartbeat. No questions asked. Totally worth the searing pain of frostbite.

You take a few moments to adjust to the length and girth of him. It feels like centuries before you’re moving, but the wait is more than worth it. Your cunt weeps around his cock, swallowing him up completely in a frosty slickness. Peter chokes, his breath hitching. The pace you set is frustratingly slow, bouncing into his pelvis in steady slams of bush on silver bush.

“Fuck yeah. Just like that. More? C’mon gimme more, baby, please. Oh, please!” He whines, submissive and needy.

Sitting up a little straighter, you balance your cool hands on his chest. Peter’s skin is all raw and red, frostbitten from your previous teasing. It’s a little painful now, actually. Leaving a tingly burn. But the stinging pain registers as pleasure in Peter’s speedy brain.

Your pussy molds perfectly with the thick shape of him. Roughly shocking you with a surge of dull pain, Peter’s cock knocks straight into your squishy cervix. His expression contorts in overstimulation, his mouth falling open. He wets his lips with his tongue.

“That’s it. Fuckin’ ride me. Mmmmm yeah~” Peter moans, “Yer so fuckin’ cold. Shit-” His moans steadily trail off into whimpers.

“Should I stop? Is it too much?” You halt your movements for a second too long.

“Don’t you ever fuckin’ stop.” He groans, animalistic and ragged, “Ohhhh~ Please don’t stop.”

As you thrust your beautiful body into his lap, Peter follows your lead. Driving his hips against your ass with each bounce of contact. Overshadowing that sultry melody of Pink Floyd with the lewd smacking of skin on skin. Your cunt hugs his cock in a grip tight enough to induce more freezer burn. But it’s such an alluring feeling, he bites his lip almost hard enough to draw blood.

Peter’s brown-eyed gaze rakes down your body. Intoxicated with the way your titties bounce and your pussy sucks the ever-speeding soul out of him. He has to mentally-prep himself so he doesn’t cum too soon again. But the piercing cold compressing his dick sends thrilling pulses through his limbs. Erotic pleasure burns deep in his gut.

“Pietro!” You cry. Riding his dick and mewling soft kitten noises, you circle your little clit with your fingers, “Want me to cum on your cock, pretty boy? Wanna feel this tight, little pussy cum for you?”

Ohhhhh. You can’t do that to him. Dirty, little minx. He’s never heard such filthy words like that come out of your mouth. And the way you sound, how you look touching yourself on his cock; It all triggers a carnal instinct in the recesses of his mind.

Peter lifts his hips in a display of super strength, abusing your cervix repeatedly with his cock. Pounding your pussy so fast and hard. With a force deep and rough enough to make you see stars. A filthy squelch of a sound echoes from inside you.

“Oh my god-” Peter’s face contorts in needy desperation, brows creasing, “Please? Wanna feel you cum, baby. Need you to cum on my dick so bad.”

Sitting up on his elbows with his mouth hanging lazily open, Peter brings his fingers to his drooling tongue. His eyes are half lidded and cloudy, almost rolling back into his skull. He reaches out, the wet pads of his fingers meeting your cute bud. He buzzes his digits in a scorching vibration, knowing how sensitive you are to his heat. Easily coaxing you towards release.

“HOH! FUCK-” Peter’s eyes flutter in shock, “ Ohmyfuckingod that’s really fuckin’ tight. ”

His body tenses hard as stone. Feeling you clench around him while he fucks you so deep he thinks he’s reached your stomach. Within a few, measly seconds of teasing vibrations on your clit; you’re cumming. Coating his cock in a wave of crisp slickness. You tremble uncontrollably, tilting your head back and crying like a siren of the arctic seas. Singing a mantra of the name Pietro.

Peter grips your hips hard with both hands, sinking his blunt nails into your skin. Animalistic instinct overflows his mind as soon as he’s reached his own peak. Ecstasy tumbles over Peter in an overwhelming crash, much like an avalanche. And just as he’s pumping you impossibly full of hot, thick ropes of cum; something happens.

His release burns inside you, pooling in a milky heat. A stark contrast to the freezing temperature constantly flowing through your body. Your nails scratch red lines into his chest, manifesting glass crystals of frost. They burn like hell, and Peter hisses. One, final slap of your ass against his lap, and –

A ripple of explosive, winter cold rushes from your body in a flash. The bombastic wave coats your entire room in powdery snow and sheets of ice. Turning the small space into a glorified freezer. It even hits the record player, slowing the final tune of Obscured by Clouds to a creeping stop. Piercing cold fires through Peter’s lungs, and he chokes on it.

…D…Did that really just happen??

Glancing around frantically, he pushes himself up on your bed.

A soft, tingling blanket of snow drapes his body. Peter sputters, quickly brushing as much of it off as he can. You’re still sitting over his lap, his softening dick tucked safely between your pussy’s plush walls. With every puff of warm air from his lungs, Peter can see his breath fanning like smoke through the air.

“Woooahhhhh, babe…” He nudges you on the shoulder to get your attention, his expression wide eyed and bewildered, “Are you seein’ this shit?”

Recovering from your numbing state of euphoria, you lazily scan your room. You gasp, though it sounds more like a really cute squeak; covering your mouth with a hand.

“Ah! What the hell did I do!? I’m sorry! Oh my god, Peter, I’m so sorry!” You say, dropping your face into Peter’s frost-bitten chest.

He hisses as you lean into his sensitive, scarred skin. And before you can spout off another flurry of sweet apologies – a noise catches the attention of you both. Outside, the two of you hear the unmistakable sound of children’s laughter. Joyful cries, followed by playful giggles and screams. You raise your head, meeting Peter’s doe eyes with a questioning look.

Narrowing his eyes, he pats your thigh. Signaling you to hop off his lap.

Clumsily, Peter zips around the room in a blur, searching for something to cover himself up with. But his clothes are all caked in snow. And not to mention a little something else. Peter has to resort to a blanket stuffed underneath all the others on your bed. Untouched by your surprise blizzard. He cloaks himself in the blanket, appearing at your door in a fwip.

Discreetly, he pulls the door open.

Or, at least, he makes an attempt. It’s completely frozen in place, sealed with ice around the lock and hinges.. Why is he even surprised at this point? Peter tugs the handle once or twice with barely any strength. And when that doesn’t work, he jerks it open with a harsh flex of his muscles. He pokes his fluffy, silverette head halfway out the door. Looking up and down the hallways.

Only to find…

Your orgasmic snowstorm reached places far beyond the confined space of your room. Looks like Christmas came early this year. The hallways of Xavier’s mansion are all drenched in frosty spreads of snow. It’s not nearly as much as what’s accumulated in your room. But it’s enough to stir up the students and teachers. Many of the kids run around excitedly. Bouncing, cheering, celebrating.

And who can blame them?

To those unseen forces of the universe out there: thanks for blessing us all with the power of Screwball's ecstasy.

Out of nowhere, the X-Men’s laser eyed leader makes his appearance. Scott comes skidding to a halt outside your door just at that moment. He balances himself with a hand to your door, a genial smile on his face. A fuzzy fust of red tickles the apples of his cheeks and the tip of his nose.

Across the hall, Logan leans casually against a wall. Puffing a cigar, wearing a thin undershirt that compliments his jacked form a little too well. He stuffs his hands in the pockets of his fitted jeans.

For a moment, Scott doesn’t seem to register why Peter’s even in your room.

But in this life, one speedster can only be so lucky.

“Wh-...Peter? Hey-uh…where’s-” Scott mentions your name, and continues, “I wanted to give ‘em my thanks for doing this.” He gestures over his shoulder to the mess of snow covering the walls and floors, “Some of the kids were getting really sick from the weather. And I know Xavier's gonna be pissed, but-...” His voice slowly trails off.

Scott’s smile falls for a beat. But Peter finds it hard to read his emotions without seeing his eyes clearly. Those sunglasses must do him loads of favors on a daily basis. If he tries, he can gauge what’s going through Scott’s head based on the look of surprise that crosses his face. Followed by a sly, knowing grin.

Summers is an intelligent guy. It doesn’t take long for him to put two and two together.

Especially with the way Peter stands in your doorway. He’s draped in a blanket that clearly isn’t his, shoulders bare underneath. The surface of his skin burns cherry red in some places. His hair is a tousled, fuzzy mess, and his cheeks are flushed bright pink.

Peter awkwardly swallows, avoiding the vibrant gaze of Scott’s red-tinted sunglasses. He directs his attention over his shoulder instead, making accidental eye contact with Logan. Wolvie arches a thick, quizzical brow, his eyes glancing over Peter’s blanketed form.

He really hadn’t meant for anyone to find out about this. But it looks like the cat’s out of the bag.

“You kids better be using protection.” Scott jokes, patronizing.

Which is funny, coming from him. Peter’s got ten years on him at the least.

“Uhhhh, yeah. I’ll totally tell ‘em you said thanks. We cool? Bitchin’. Later, Summers.” Peter rushes through his words ultra fast, before slamming the door shut behind him.

That’ll be a rough one to explain later. But hopefully no one’ll be nosy enough to pry. Besides, Peter doesn’t wanna think about it right now. Since, y’know, he kinda just got laid for the first time. Which is really fucking awesome, now that he can stop and really digest that it happened. And with someone he’s been crushing on too.

Maybe he’s luckier than he thought.

Peter presses his back against your icy door, letting the thick blanket covering his body fall to the floor. Leaving him butt ass naked in your freezer of a room. He rakes his fingers through his hair, cheesing a goofy smile to himself.

“What’s goin’ on? Were you talkin’ to someone?” You ask, emerging from your bathroom and brushing snow off a towel.

“Oh- pfffttt …just Summers. Yeah. He-uh…wanted to tell you thanks. ‘Cuz you kinda went all blizzard on this whole place and now it’s, like-” Peter makes a wide gesture with his hands, mimicking the sound of an avalanche falling. Or, that’s what he tries to do, anyway. He’s never been the best at charades.

“HUH!? What are you-” You rush to your door. Those pretty titties of yours bounce with every step. And Peter ogles them shamelessly. Poking your head through the door, he overhears the sound of your gasp. Followed by the shyest little, “Heyyyyyy, Logan.”

Before you’re closing the door again, marching to your bathroom with your head cast down in shame.

“Xavier’s gonna kill me, dude! I can’t believe this!” You whisper-shout.

Your bashfulness and frustration are so cute, Peter has to refrain from snickering. And as you reach the doorway, you stop yourself. He catches the motion of your eyes checking him out, before your gazes meet again. Peter smirks.

“Uhm…how was your first time, by the way?” You ask in a quiet, uncertain tone, “Was it…okay?”

Oh, you cannot even be serious right now.

Peter gives you a weird look. Staring at you like you’re some strange, newly discovered entity from a far off universe. Really, you must be, if you’re gonna question a good time like that.

��Okay? Okay?? ” Peter appears before you in less than a blink’s time.

He wraps his strong arm around your waist, pulling you close to his body. Grinning confidently, he darts down to kiss your frosty lips.

“Screwball, baby, that was a total rush. Are you crazy? It’s not every day I make somebody cum so hard they kickstart an early winter, y’know. Not bad fer my first time, if I do say so myself.” He waggles his brows.

I’m really glad I could help you out…” You mutter, smiling so sweet.

Your fingers trace the burns littering Peter’s chest with a feather-light touch. Even the faintest brush makes him wince in pain. But he’s not ashamed to admit it’s totally worth it. What’s a little freezer burn and frostbite between friends, huh?

Or, between…whatever the two of you are now.

“Oh, you did wayyyy more than help me out.” Peter winks, kissing you once more, “You rocked my world babe. Don’t sweat it, ‘kay? I had a great time.”

You saunter off to your bathroom then. And Peter reaches out to playfully smack your ass as you walk away. He admires your gorgeous figure in all its naked glory. His eyes following the jiggle of your booty cheeks.

“Yer still takin’ me on that date, right? Dinner and a movie?” He asks, startling you with his sudden appearance in the bathroom. Peter presses himself into your back, standing tall in comparison to your height.

“Can we hold off? Do you think you can wait until the city isn’t on fire?” You meet his dark eyes in the mirror over the sink, “And it can’t be Howard the Duck.”

“No. It’s most definitely gotta be Howard the Duck.” Peter brings his warm hands to your shoulders, thumbs gliding along your soft skin. He leans down to pepper your sex hair in kisses, “I won’t accept nothin’ else, got it?

“Mmmhm. Shouldn’t I be the judge of that, Peter? Since, like, you keep implying I’m the one paying.”

He scoffs, slowly gliding his large hands over the irresistible curves of your body. He gives a mischievous grin through the mirror, his look oozing speedster charm.

“Who said anything about paying?”

#peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff x you #peter maximoff x y/n #txt #smut

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fiendishfables · 2 months

Note

hello!! i saw ur blog and i was super excited to see another aroaceee is it alright if you do platonic adam x reader headcanons? he can be reader's friend, sibling, or preferably reader's father figure as long as its platonic, anything u'd like is fine! sorry if my request is kinda weird lol, i just haven't seen a lot of platonic hazbin hotel stuff (especially stuff with adam in it)

a/n: Always good to meet other aroace individuals, indeed. I personally love Adam, he is absolutely my favorite character. I’ve been dying to write for him more and thinking of him as a dad is just my favorite scenario-

warnings: cursing, Adam being Adam, brief mentions of sex, subtle hints at Lute x Adam (if you squint)

words: 944

additional notes: this was one of my first asks I ever got; I AM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT. Enjoy~!

Adam as a Father Figure

Headcanons

First of all, he never expected to actually have a kid of his own, but now here he was

By the time you turned 6, you knew about every single curse word in existence, along with a (disturbingly) decent amount of female anatomy

Lute gets promoted to babysitter

When Adam is off performing with his band or needed in the council/other Heavenly resides, Lute is responsible for keeping track of his child

Even if she lost you (which she has, multiple times) he won't be that worried

You were a kid and as far as Adam knew, kids needed food

Hence how he knew you would find your way back to him eventually

Okay scratch that, maybe he does get a little worried...a lot

Starts to doubt his ability as a parent

Once he even got Sera to send out a search party for you because you had been gone longer than usual

It worried him sick whenever you went exploring, but he was almost a bit prideful that his offspring had managed to inherit his sneaking around capabilities already at such a young age

Lute has had to console her boss many times in response to your random disappearances under her watchfulness

He has legit been facedown on the couch with his head in her lap whilst he bawls his eyes out, blabbering to her about his worries pertaining to you, and then somehow that stems to his hopes and dreams in life (he doesn't wanna talk about it)

Only for you to walk in with food from some random location about 10 minutes later

You'd be on the floor as soon as you enter the domicile because Adam would have jumped on you and then proceeded to hug the very life out of you (all while stealing your bag of food in the process and running off with it)

Calls you a bitch, dumbass, and 'a little shit' for worrying him

Though he would never openly admit he had been worried

He doesn't care if you have a social life, he wants you home safe before 9pm, sharp

── ･｡☆*☽*☆ﾟ.──

Teaches you how to play guitar

He claims its because he wants to pass on one of his awesome talents to his only child, but he also really wants you to join him and his band on stage one day or another

You are in the starter stages of learning and are able to accurately get chords down and learn to read sheet music

A tear just may have come to his eye

The first song you two ever perform together is "Hell is Forever"

He did see someone try to give you a rose after your performance and nearly knocked them out

Trust him, he's a sex and relationship positive guy (for the most part) but he also can't help but feel like he wants to protect you at all costs

If you dare to call him over-protective, he will very gladly give you the silent treatment for a good 5 minutes

After that time mark, he will be groveling at your feet and whining about how sorry he is (rare that he actually says 'sorry')

His biggest fear is his own child having it out for him and not wanting anything to do with him

A clingy parent, no doubt

Wants to train you in the ways of becoming an Exorcist Angel

Poor guy is a bit insecure about everything and needs extra reassurance, though he would never ever outwardly ask for it

That's a sign of weakness in his eyes

Not for his child though

You come to him with even the smallest hint of watery eyes and he is already going full dad-mode

Determined to find the fucker who made you upset

Promises to give em' a good ol' kick in the balls (or vag)

Adam won't discriminate, he's just there to beat the ass of whoever hurt his precious baby

He will get in a fist fight with Sera in order to make you happy

Just expect to be the one he then blames when he gets demoted

── ･｡☆*☽*☆ﾟ.──

Adam totally took lots of naps before he had a child, so this just makes for the two of you ending up crashing on the couch together and creating a melodic tune out of your in-sync snoring patterns

Anything the two of you can do together without constantly arguing is a miracle, so this is to be cherished

He has definitely given you some very creative nicknames (as he calls himself 'Dickmaster')

Lute has taken many pictures

She wants to make a photo album and give it to Adam one day just to piss him off

But as she knows how much he really cares for you, she does not want to risk him growing apart from you due to something stupid she did for a few momentary laughs

Let's you two have your moments without interrupting

The two of you always fight over food and who gets to pick where you go for the evening, if going anywhere at all

Lute claims that you are making Adam all the more emotional, but no one seems to be complaining

Especially not the High Council

Its nice to have him shut his mouth for once and remotely think about his actions and who they could potentially effect

Adam has something to lose now, and everyone in both Heaven and Hell alike knew it

No demon spawn would ever get to set even a foot near you

You were the first life he felt truly responsible for

He refuses to fuck it up and lose someone else he cares about

He would protect you until the ends of time, whether you liked it or not

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justauthoring · 1 year

Text

BLUE LOCK BOYS - CLICHE ROMANCE TROPES

includes: bachira meguru, nagi seishiro, itoshi rin all x fem!reader

warnings: kissing? there’s nothing really.

BACHIRA MEGURU - “you’re way out of my league”

Sometimes, he could hardly believe it himself.

Sure, he heard the whispers in the halls – felt the eyes on his back as the two of you walked, always hand in hand. You were none the wiser, a constant beaming smile on your lips that hadn’t seemed to falter even a little since the two of you started dating. Bachira liked that you didn’t know, it reassured him that you didn’t feel the same even though the thought had crossed his mind plenty of times before.

Late at night, when everyone else was asleep and he couldn’t help but wonder – but why me?

Everyone else was wondering it, some people even had the guts to blatantly say it to his face.

She’s too good for you.

You do realize she’s way out of your league, right?

How’d you even manage to get her?

Bachira had never been good with people. He’d spent most of his life alone and he’d be damned if he let random people, at this point in his life, ruin the best thing that had happened to him. You were everything to him, Bachira loved you beyond what he thought he was capable of. And he liked to tell you every day, shout it to anyone that would listen – mainly you – and he’d never once doubted his feelings for you.

But eventually it just got to be too much.

“Why do you even like me?”

The words slip past his lips before he can stop them, his mind too slow to register what he’s said until you’ve heard the words. He mentally cringes at the look on your face, watching as your eyes widen and your lips part. There’s this expression that flickers onto your face, you almost look hurt?

“What do you mean, ‘Guru?”

“I mean,” and he hates the way the words get stuck at the back of his throat.

What does he mean?

“Why me?”

Your head tilts to the side, eyes blinking, and Bachira can’t help but notice just how adorable you look in that moment.

“Because you’re you, Meguru,” you say simply, shrugging your shoulders as if the answer was plain as day. Like there wasn’t even a doubt in your mind. “Because you’re sweet and really handsome. You constantly make me laugh, and you’re so warm and inviting. You make my insides feel like jelly because I can barely contain myself around you. You never fail to make me feel loved, and I love how cuddly you are and–should I go on?”

Bachira doesn’t fluster easily, but the bright red of his cheeks in undeniable.

“No, no, that’s enough.”

Frowning, you reach across the table, taking his hand in your own. “What made you think that?”

Shrugging, Bachira uses his free hand to scratch at the back of his neck, suddenly feeling entirely too bashful. “Dunno,” he mumbles quietly, “just think you’re too good for me sometimes.”

“Well, you’re wrong.”

Blinking, Bachira glances up at you at your words, a small smile curling onto his lips as you shuffle in your seat, shaking your head. “If anything, you’re too good for me.”

His eyes widen, lips parting for emphasis; “absolutely not.”

“It’s true!”

“Is not!”

“Uh-huh!”

“Nope!”

“Then, I’m not too good for you either, kay?”

Smiling softly, Bachira lets out a quiet laugh. “Yeah, sure,” he grins, “okay.”

NAGI SEISHIRO - “i can’t stand you.” “i want to kiss you.”

You couldn’t stand him.

God, he was so… annoying!

Standing there with that stupid lazy grin of his, entirely too happy about the situation you’d been forced into. If you’d known that volunteering for an after school project would involve being forced to spend the next two hours with him – you never would’ve done it. You would rather d*e before being forced to simply be in the same room as him.

But the matter of the fact is you didn’t really have much of a choice.

You’d left it to the last minute and you knew your teacher wouldn’t let you back out of this. Especially since you couldn’t really afford to given you needed the credits.

You’d just have to suck it up for the day.

It was only one day.

“Just… you stay over there and I’ll stay here, okay?” You huff, brushing a strand of hair out of your face angrily as you turn, practically stomping over to the corner of the library to get started on the pile of books that first needed to be sorted. Nagi doesn’t say anything in response, but he’s a man of few words anyways so you don’t really think anything of it.

Except when suddenly there’s a shadow next to you.

“Nagi,” you sigh, “did I not just tell you to stay over there?”

He simply shrugs; “got bored.”

You narrow your eyes, lips parting to say something until you notice the fact that he’s literally not doing anything. He’s just… standing there. A quick glance behind you to where he’d been tells you he hadn’t really started anything over there either.

“You can at least help.”

“Don’t wanna.”

Body tensing, it takes all of your will not to strangle him then and there.

“We’re supposed to be tidying up the library,” you remind, quirking a brow at him.

“It’s more fun watching,” he says plainly. “Besides, it’s too much work.”

“I’m going to kill you.”

He simply grins at you.

Sighing, your shoulders fall with defeat. “Just… stay out of my way, okay?”

He just nods.

It goes on like that for the first twenty minutes before Nagi suddenly decides to no longer simply be quiet and unhelpful, but just unhelpful. A moan of boredom leaves his lips almost every few seconds, your name falling from his lips every few minutes, whining at you for ignoring him.

“Y/L/N! Y/L/N~!”

Slamming the book in your hands down on the table, creating an echoing thud, you turn to him. “What?”

“I’m bored.”

“Then leave.”

“I can’t. I need the credits.”

“Then help me.”

“Too much work.”

“Nagi, I swear to God, if–”

Your words come to a sudden halt when you turn, prepared to tell him off, only he’s not sitting in the chair across from you anymore and instead directly in front of you. He’s close, incredibly close, you can feel his breath on you as he stands chest to chest with you. It feels like you can’t breathe, him being this close, a flush flooding to your cheeks as you move to stumble back, only to feel the back of your legs hit the table.

There’s nowhere for you to go.”

And he’s entirely too close. You don’t like having him this close.

Nagi being this close means you can smell his cologne, that’s entirely too sweet to you, and can feel the warmth radiating off of him. If you just reached out, you could grab him and that brings a flutter to your chest at the thought.

You don’t want to even dare look up – because if you did, you’d see how inviting and plump his pink, perfect lips look and–

“I have an idea of what we can do instead.”

Eyes focused on his uniform jacket, you let out a shaky breath.

“W-What?”

The tips of his fingers fall under your jaw, guiding your gaze up and on him. You can feel your heart pounding against your chest as you meet his eyes, usually so dull and bored-looking, suddenly looking entirely too lustful and invested.

There’s a moment of pause before suddenly his lips are pressing against your own.

It’s warm and it’s nauseating how good it feels to have his lips pressed against your own. It’s everything you’ve spent the good chunk of the past year trying to avoid thinking about because you were supposed to hate Nagi and yet, you feel like putty in his hands right now.

Then, as he pulls away, his lips curl into a knowing smirk as your eyes lazily glance up to meet his.

“That.”

ITOSHI RIN - “i mean, it’s not all bad with you.”

“This is your fault.”

Rolling your eyes, you scoff at Rin’s monotone tone.

“Sure,” you roll your eyes. “It’s my fault we’re trapped in the janitor's closet.”

“It is.”

Huffing, you glare up at him. “How exactly is it my fault?”

“If it wasn’t for you, this never would’ve happened.”

“Because the great and mighty Itoshi Rin would never be caught stuck in a closet, correct?”

“Exactly.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re an idiot.”

Scoffing, you cross your arms over your chest, pressing your back further into the wall to greaten what little bit of space there is between you and Rin. You’d texted Isagi a minute after the door had locked shut behind you, so you only hoped that it wouldn’t take him much longer to get here and set you free. You could barely handle being this close to Rin on a regular basis and being forced into such a small space with him was making it harder to think.

You’d had a huge crush on Rin since the moment you met him. His suave, cool-headed and somewhat emotionless behavior had caught your attention almost immediately. Over time, you’d gotten to see the small bits of Rin that he kept protected behind that wall of his, slipping in the odd and rare few moments the two of you had shared.

You knew Rin liked you, more than he liked more. You knew he thought of you as a friend.

But you knew he didn’t like you.

You’d sworn to keep your feelings to yourself, refusing to let them ruin the relationship you’d worked hard to build with the reserved boy.

Which is why being stuck in a very small, very cramped closet was not ideal.

There was barely a breaths away between the two of you. You could feel his chest pressing into your own, and if you simply glance up you’d see every little detail of his face that you loved so much. Simply looking from a far was hard enough, you didn’t think you could last much longer in here.

“Ugh, where’s Isagi?”

Rin’s eyes snap to yours. “You texted him?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “he said he’d let us out.”

Rin frowns, and your brows furrow in confusion.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

Shaking his head, Rin avoids your gaze; “nothing.”

“No, there’s something–” You pause in revelation, “oh, I’m sure it’ll be fine. Isagi won’t say anything if you’re afraid of him embarrassing you. I won’t either.”

Licking his lips slowly (a sigh that has your heart racing), Rin sighs; “that isn’t it.”

“Then what is it?”

Pursing his lips, Rin hesitates; “I… there’s no rush.”

“No rush to get out of the closet?”

He shrugs.

“I mean, I’d rather not be stuck here all day and–”

“It’s nice… to be here with you.” If it wasn’t so dark, you’d see his cheeks are bright red. “I’m okay if it’s with you.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“Oh.”

“That’s it?”

You don’t know what to say!

“I-I mean,” you stammer slightly, almost positive Rin can hear the hammering of your heart in the quiet of the closet. “I like being in here with you too.”

The corner of his lips curve upwards ever so slightly, and in the next second, the touch of his fingers hitting your own registers in your mind before he threads his fingers through yours, squeezing your hand.

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock imagine #bllk #bllk x reader #bachira meguru #bachira meguru x reader #nagi seishiro #nagi seishiro x reader #itoshi rin #itoshi rin x reader

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justmediocrewriting · 4 months

Note

Luffy x Reader; maybe she steals away his hat and a huge chase ensues and she lured him to the marines bcs they made a deal that they’d relieve her village of their debt? Straw hats help her out ?? :)

Stealing Hats, Stealing Hearts {m.d.l}

Summary: when the captain of the Marines comes to you and offers your village’s freedom in exchange for luring and capturing the Straw Hat pirates, you thought it too good a deal to refuse. You were rather adept at conning, and you were sure stirring up a ruse good enough to lure the crew would be easy, but when you meet the infamous Straw Hat pirates, you can’t help but feel hesitation towards the mission, as they are the complete opposite of what you expected.

Genre: fluff(?), slight angst

Requested: ✅

Word Count: 4.9k

Pairing: Luffy x fem!reader

Warnings: themes of coercion, language, manipulation, canon-typical violence, strawhat shenanigans

A/n: this request was so much fun to write, thank you so much for blessing me with it anon! I know it took a while to get out, but I was so in love with the theme and scenario that I wanted to reflect it in the writing. I did my best to polish and refine it to the absolute best it could be. I truly hope everyone enjoys reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To say you were nervous would be a major understatement.

You were shaking like a fucking leaf in your ratty boots because of your nervousness; when you’d accepted the request from the Marines, you hadn’t truly taken every detail into account. All you’d understood was that by doing this simple thing, your village would finally be free of their debt, and the Marines would gladly walk away from their post on the island. It sounded almost too good to be true, and now the reality of that was hitting you with a heavy impact.

You’d heard of the Straw Hat pirates; of course you had. They were vicious, unforgiving, brutal and animalistic — what they’d done in Orange Town was proof enough of that, not to mention the way they’d put down and hurt many Marines in Shells Town, all for a ratty slip of parchment. There were many rumors surrounding the crew, but you’d never given too much thought to their authenticity before — but now, staring straight at the Straw Hat pirates, in the flesh, you could believe every single one.

The one that made you the most nervous was the swordsman; the three katanas resting against his right hip were intimidating enough, but the glower on his face and the rippling athleticism that was potent beneath his clothes made for a rather frightening combination — it was one which you didn’t want to experience for yourself.

“No harm will come to you, girl,” Captain Akubi had promised you earlier that morning. “I will have Marines stationed everywhere to watch your every move; if things begin to get dicey, they will intercept.”

The captain’s promise had given you a small semblance of reassurance, but with knowing what the Straw Hats themselves were capable of, and seeing them in the flesh, you highly doubted any Marine here in the town would be strong enough to protect you should you incur their wrath — especially not against that swordsman. It was enough to almost send you running back to your decrepit shed with your tail between your legs.

But this was your home — and you had to protect it, at any cost. Even the cost of your own life at the hands of a vicious pirate group.

It was with this conviction that you’d raised from your seat and approached the table the pirates had chosen to occupy in the dingy tavern. Plates were scattered and piled across the surface of the table, and the captain, the one you’d recognized as Monkey D. Luffy from his wanted poster, was currently digging into a separate, still full, plate when you stopped feet from him.

You cleared your throat to catch his attention, but you truly weren’t prepared for the sheer depth he held within his chocolate eyes when he flicked them up to meet yours. Your breath stuttered momentarily as you were taken aback by just how attractive the man was, how the dim lighting sharpened every angle of his face, and not for the first time since you’d agreed to this mission trepidation clamped your gut; but this time, it wasn’t from fear, but rather a strange sort of nervousness tightening your throat and making it difficult for you to speak. You were aware of four other pairs of eyes on you, and your skin prickled uneasily.

“Yes?” The man asked, not impolitely, but rather loudly, and you wanted to shrink back as some of the clamor around the tavern settled down. Others were looking at you now.

You swallowed down every unpleasant feeling and crossed your arms over your chest, feigning a sense of confidence that you didn’t really possess.

“You’re pirates, aren’t you?” You asked accusingly, and the man’s face simply brightened, as if being recognized as a pirate somehow brought him happiness. He reached up and briefly resituated his hat atop his head, and when he spoke it was with an adorable little accent that left you feeling slightly weak in the knees.

“We are. We’re the Straw Hat pirates!”

You didn’t think it was possible, but when the man gestured to the other four occupants of the table, his features somehow lit up brighter than the sun, and you were slightly shocked. The man seemed so gentle, so kind, maybe even a bit naive and exuberant to a fault; how could a gangly, bright boy like this be the captain of a heartless, ruthless pirate crew? A slim glance to the other occupants left you feeling and thinking along the same lines — the swordsman was openly glowering at you, but his eyes were hardened in something akin to suspicion rather than blatant cruelty, and when your eyes met with the blond, well dressed man’s he sent you a charming smile that had you blushing slightly. The other man, a darker skinned boy with a bright smile and bandana wrapped around his head, gave you a shy wave, and the only woman of the crew, redheaded and simply beautiful, also smiled kindly.

Were these people really the Straw Hat pirates? They seemed… different, than what you’d heard.

“Are you really?” You couldn’t help but ask, and the man in the straw hat looked a little confused by your suspicion. He glanced over to his crew mates briefly before returning his eyes to you.

“Why do you sound as if you find that hard to believe?” He asked, and his tone was so genuinely curious and kind, and you found that you really liked the sound of it; for the first time since you’d started this mission, your muscles relaxed.

You thought you’d feel a lot more fear from the act of staring the captain of the Straw Hat pirates in the face, but for some reason, you just didn’t — instead, you felt genuinely baffled and curious.

“Because the Straw Hats are notoriously ruthless,” you stated, flicking your eyes briefly and suspiciously over the group. “You guys destroyed Orange Town.”

The redheaded woman who was previously smiling at you now narrowed her eyes, and when she spoke to you, her voice was lowered and full of venom.

“We saved Orange Town. Buggy and his band of bastards were the ones that destroyed it.”

It was clear that you were itching beneath the woman’s skin, and that was sort of what you wanted; it would be easier to draw them out if you angered them, and their emotions would blindside them and make them lousy to their surroundings. Ultimately, capture would be much easier if they were in that state; but part of you wanted to recoil from the sheer aggression in her tone, but the freedom of your village weighed heavily on your shoulders, and you forced yourself to stay strong.

“Even if I gave you the benefit of the doubt on that one, you still stormed the Marine base in Shells Town and slaughtered numerous innocent men.” You bit back, hoping beyond everything that your tone came out just as scathing as the woman’s had, and didn’t reflect the new wave of nervousness that had crashed over you.

The redhead didn’t react exactly in the way you expected, but she did roll her eyes in exasperation and sigh heavily. “We never killed anybody. Geez, just how many rumors have been flying around about us?”

“A lot,” you couldn’t help but say, and now the swordsman was no longer glaring, but the way he eyed you with a strange sort of intrigue made you somewhat prefer the glare.

“What kind of rumors?” He asked, and you nearly swallowed your own tongue. You narrowed your eyes at him and forced your tone to stay even.

“The bad kind. That’s why you aren’t welcome here.”

Now the captain spoke up again, and his words were filled with so much confusion that it made you feel a little guilty for your fib.

“But none of those rumors are true, so why would we be unwelcome?”

Now a genuine anger was curdling within your gut, the oppression and helplessness that your village had been subjected to over the many years boiling hot beneath your skin and muddying your usual stone-cold resolve.

“Because this village has dealt with enough, and the last thing we need is a ragtag group of lowlifes sullying it with their presence. Even if you aren’t what the rumors chalk you up to be, you’re still pirates, and that’s bad enough.” You didn’t have to force the way you scathed this time, and the anger beneath your skin burned just a little hotter when the man simply stared at you with no reaction to your insults — his eyes were narrowed, but not in irritation, and he was looking at you as if he were trying to read you, trying to reach into the very depths of your soul and figure you out from the inside out. It was making your skin crawl in ways that were simultaneously pleasant and unpleasant.

The man was silent for a long time, and when he finally did speak, his voice was lowered, but the volume did not alter the genuine curiosity or the cryptic-esque quality of it.

“What kind of pirates do you think we are?”

You blinked at him, momentarily baffled and caught off-guard. You worked your lips for a few seconds, but no sound escaped, because how were you supposed to answer that question?

Quite simply, actually.

“The only kind there is,” you stated bluntly, and when you tried to turn your glare onto the other occupants of the table, it fell from your eyes at the way they were looking at you. The woman’s expression was the worst; she looked sympathetic, and even a little understanding, and it confused it you to no end, but it also angered you. Why would they feel sympathy or understanding towards you? There was no reason; and even if there were, you wouldn’t want it from pirates.

“There’s more than one kind of pirate,” the man said, and this time, his voice was kind, almost wistful, and there was a strange sort of nostalgia dancing in his brown eyes, and you swore you could see a hint of distant admiration too.

Many different emotions were gnawing at your chest from this whole interaction; there was confusion, envy, intrigue, attraction, but most of all, there was anger. Anger that you had been put in the position to feel these emotions, that you were the one forced to bear the weight of the entire village, anger that these damn pirates weren’t falling for your tricks, that they didn’t even really seem perturbed by your words or opinions, that they were completely rewriting your entire view on them, and now you just wanted them to snap; to show their true colors, and then get thrown behind bars where they belonged.

It was with this impatience that you said and did what you did next.

“There is only one kind of pirate, and I can prove it.”

The man furrowed his dark brows in confusion for a total of a second, but his expression turned quickly to shock and anger when you reached forward and yanked his hat off with barely-concealed aggression. There was a soft snap noise that seemed to reverberate around the tavern when the strings below his chin broke apart from your roughness, and to you, it sounded less like a string snapping and more like the single shot fired into the sky to signal the drop of the guillotine at an execution; your execution.

Panic gripped your muscles as you stared into pools of swirling anger, and your adrenaline spiked, and before you could even grasp any coherent thoughts you turned on your heel and ran.

Chairs scraped behind you, and your heart thundered in sincere fear when multiple footfalls immediately pounded after you. You dodged multiple patrons, from sitting to standing, and beelined straight for the back of the tavern, the route that had been given to you somehow taped to the forefront of your mind instead of forgotten in your state of near panic.

He will definitely kill me if he catches me, was what was bouncing around your skull, pushing you further than even the thought of saving your village as you led the individual behind you on the invisible path, feet kicking up clouds of dust along the roads. Your breath felt frozen in your lungs, and your legs were already aching, but you knew what was at stake, and you’d be damned if you gave in to the pain and lost everything; it wouldn’t happen, not when you had already come so far.

You just narrowly avoided crashing into a woman as you crossed a rather busy road, receiving a multitude of insults and curses; your pursuer wasn’t as lucky, as you could hear gasps and shouts of indignation as well as stumbles and a small crash, and the distraction was enough for you to gain a few more feet on the man.

Just a few more turns, you thought as you whipped around the corner of the bakery, heart thundering even harder as you pursued gathered himself quickly and the pounding of his feet closed in. The warehouse is just a couple more meters this way.

You gripped the hat tightly in your hand as you ran, every shout and command to stop that reached your ears only propelling you forward, and before you knew it, you were banging open the large doors of the warehouse and skidding to a halt in the middle. The man’s footfalls entered not too long after, and a sense of dread filled your body as you whipped your eyes around the warehouse. It was empty, save for you and the man behind you. They were supposed to be here.

Did I go to the wrong one? You thought, chest heaving with large breaths as you tried to desperately search for the signature sea-blue of a Marine uniform. But there was none in sight, and your entire body froze when the man spoke up from behind you.

“Listen, lady. I don’t get what you’re doing, and I don’t know why you’re doing it, but it ends now. Give me my hat.”

Mustering up as much courage as you could manage you whipped around to face the man. He was standing just feet inside the warehouse, and his red vest and cropped jeans were covered in dust, and his shoulders dropped heavily with his panting. You were immensely relieved to find that he was the only one who’d followed you, but at the same time disappointed, because your goal was to capture all of the Straw Hat pirates. Would captain Akubi really be happy with just the captain? Said captain’s eyes were narrowed and his fists balled at his sides, but he made no move to attack you, and it drove your nerves up the wall.

Why was he hesitating?

As if reading your mind, the man spoke again. “I don’t want to fight you, so just give me my hat. Please.”

You hardly believed what your ears were hearing. Did a pirate just ask you to do something? That didn’t seem right. This was all too confusing; it was supposed to be simple, damn it! So why were you finding it so difficult?

You glanced around once more, and hope fluttered minutely in your chest when you caught movement just left of the pirate’s flank; it was a Marine, with a gun clutched in hand, and he was advancing on the man in front of you. With a shout he whipped the heel of his gun into the back of the man’s neck, and you watched with mixed feelings of relief and guilt as the man’s eyes snapped closed and he groaned as he crumpled to the floor of the warehouse.

“Very well done,” you recognized the husky voice as captain Akubi seconds before the man himself appeared at your side. His hands were clasped together in front of his thighs, and maybe at any other point in time, you’d feel pride at his praise, but at the moment you couldn’t feel anything of the sort. You kept your eyes glued to the man on the floor, who was groaning and attempting to rise to his feet, only to have the Marine behind him slam his gun against the back of his neck and bark an order to stay still.

“It’s only the captain here, but my men are rounding up the others as we speak. They were much easier to catch since they were separated. And it’s all thanks to you.”

Your skin crawled and you wanted to coil back from captain Akubi as he purred at you, his fingers slinking up to rub at your chin.

“Don’t touch me,” you nearly whispered, eyes still not leaving the sight before you, and your breath caught in your throat when the man raised his head, eyes locking with yours. They were wide, but there was no anger within them, just worry and plain confusion. Akubi sniffed once and tore his hand away with a click of his tongue.

“Well, go ahead and cuff him, men. Our business is done here.” Akubi ordered with a snap, and you startled when there was a shuffle of movement, and four more Marines fled from their hiding places within the warehouse, one with a pair of sea-prism handcuffs clasped in his hands.

The pirate was forced to his feet with his wrists bound behind him, and the metal clink of the cuffs locking sounded much louder than they truly were — the sound sent unpleasant shivers down your spine, but you refused to let yourself feel any guilt. These people were pirates, and their capture meant the freedom of your village, and you would never allow yourself to feel regret for doing what you had to.

But the man was making it extremely hard not to, what with those eyes blown wide and those lips slightly parted, looking at you as if he couldn’t believe you could truly do something like this. You had to tear your eyes away, or you might do something stupid; like attack captain Akubi and spell the end for your village, all for the release of some measly pirate who you knew nothing about; who was rumored to be heartless and aggressive.

But there was something in your gut, something screaming at you, telling you that this man just wasn’t that type of person, and every interaction you’d had with him thus far simply proved more and more truth to that ascertainment.

“Alright, men, time to head north. We will bring this miscreant and his crew to headquarters, and finally get the recognition we deserve.” Captain Akubi said, clapping his hands together gleefully. Your heart sunk as you stared at the man’s broad back as he approached the cuffed pirate, and you cleared your throat. Captain Akubi sighed heavily and barely turned to glance at you from around his shoulder.

“What is it?”

“My village. We have our freedom now, right? That was the deal. I honored my end. Will you honor yours?”

Your heart clenched and fell even further at the look of faux sympathy captain Akubi sent you.

“Oh, my dear, that’s really not in my power. But, given how well you did here, I will surely recommend it to headquarters.”

Anger and fear gripped your chest in alternating waves, and you stumbled forward with a splutter on your lips.

“That wasn’t what you told me! You said you would give us our freedom!”

The pirate currently held prisoner flicked his eyes between you and captain Akubi, his brows furrowing as he drank in your interaction with the man.

“I got you the Straw Hats. Now free my village, Akubi!” You demanded, and you nearly tumbled on your rear when the Marine captain turned completely on his heel and advanced on you in mere seconds, towering over you with a snarl on his lips. You winced when his hand whipped up and pain exploded across your jaw as he squeezed your cheeks with his hand.

“I am a Marine captain, and you will not give me orders. I have no obligation to honor your request, and there’s nothing you can do about that, so just pipe down and slink on back to your little ramshackle hut.” With that Akubi released your cheeks and pushed you back roughly, and now you really did fall to your rear, tears stinging at your eyes as you watched his retreating form.

“This isn’t fair,” you whispered through quivering lips, anger and helplessness wracking every nerve ending in your body. You balled your fist and slammed it down against the floor, not even wincing when pain bloomed through your palm. “This isn’t fair, Akubi!”

Akubi only laughed loudly and threw his shoulders up in a shrug. “Life isn’t fair, girlie. You’d better get used to it.”

“So you did this for your village,” the pirate said, and all eyes snapped to him. You expected to find anger or resentment, disbelief at the very least, etched into his face, but instead his lips were pulled into a small smile, and his eyes crinkled with what you could only identify as glee.

The look on his face was so soft, so happy, that it caused your throat to tighten, and you were unable to get any words out, so you simply nodded in affirmation. Why you were even engaging in this with the man, you didn’t know.

“I knew you weren’t bad.” The man said, and he sounded so confident, so sure, that it sent tingles up your spine, and you couldn’t help but preen under the praise. You were equal parts relieved and disappointed when the man tore his eyes from you and pointed a cheeky smile at captain Akubi.

“And now, I get to kick your ass, for terrorizing this village, hurting my friends, and for making her cry.”

Your heart swelled with conflicting emotions at the man’s words, and your cheeks warmed, but the feelings were dashed away when captain Akubi let out a condescending bark of laughter.

“You? You’re going to kick my ass? How do you figure?”

The man didn’t react, at least not with any of the reactions you would’ve; he just smiled even wider, and clicked his tongue.

“With my crew, of course.”

As if those words had simply summoned chaos, a multitude of noises broke out within the warehouse; grunts, groans, bangs, yells, curses, thwacking, thumping — and suddenly Captain Akubi was the only Marine standing, and all the others were on the floor, each clutching at a different part of their body, or nursing a different wound. Seeing them on the floor, and captain Akubi’s speechless gape, filled you with such happiness and satisfaction that you were nearly buzzing beneath your skin. Warmth bloomed in your chest when the redhead swam into your view and offered you her hand.

Despite your earlier aggressive interaction with the woman, you were happy to clasp her hand and heave yourself to your feet with her help. She gave you a smile, and you smiled back. While still gripping your hand, she said, “I’m Nami.”

“(Y/N).” You responded curtly, feeling a little guilty for the things you’d said to her previously. She genuinely seemed nice; they all did.

“Okay, captain guy, what’s it gonna be? Surrender or fight?” That cute accent pulled your eyes like a magnet to the owner, and you felt your skin heat at just how good he looked; now that there was more light, you could see his features more easily, and he was damn attractive. And that accent definitely complimented it. The others were there, too. The swordsman was standing beside his captain, two swords drawn at the ready — and the blond man was currently lighting a cigarette as he stood above a couple of groaning Marines.

The woman beside you, Nami, rubbed a hand against your bicep, and you turned to give her a soft, grateful, if not confused, smile.

“We heard about it from the villagers. When we broke free from the Marines, the villagers explained everything. And when we got here, we heard what the dingleshit said to you. We’re on your side.”

Warmth bloomed completely through your body at her statement; part of you couldn’t truly believe that these pirates were actually going to help you, that they even wanted to, and part of you wanted to reject the help. It was what you were used to, after all. The Marines had taken over your village years ago, and the rest of the village was far too scared to stand up to them. Your rebellion against them was done in secret for the longest time, and as the years went by, you began to lose hope; up until captain Akubi had offered you this exchange. If only you had been able to see it for what it truly was — a lie.

“You’re under arrest by order of the Marines!” Akubi growled, but his voice was a bit shaky, and when you glanced at him, you felt another zing of satisfaction at the trace of fear on his face.

The man, no, Luffy, brought his hands (which you now noticed were free of their restraints) up and cracked his knuckles. His tongue darted out to briefly swipe his lip, and when he drew his arm back, your eyes nearly bugged out of your head when it stretched back yards. It slung forward with a speedy velocity as Luffy yelled “Gum Gum Pistol!”, and when his knuckles made impact with captain Akubi’s face, the cracking result was nearly deafening.

Captain Akubi flew past you to the end of the warehouse, the wall shaking as his back made contact, and when he slid down his shoulders slumped; out cold. Luffy huffed out a snort and his hand returned to his body with a snap, causing him to stumble slightly.

Silence fell over the warehouse, the only interruptions being scraps of the wall tumbling to the floor and the grumbling and groaning of Marines. You stared around the warehouse with wide eyes, and when they traveled back to look at Luffy, you flushed when you made direct eye contact with the man.

Luffy smiled brightly at you, dazzling and so, so breathtaking, and your heart leapt into your throat when he crossed the distance between you two and offered his hand.

“I’m Monkey D. Luffy, and I’m going to be King of the Pirates. I also want you to join my crew.”

You nearly choked on your own spit, and doubled over as coughs wracked your body. Tears stung in your eyes when your coughing ceased and you glanced up at Luffy disbelievingly.

“You what?” You croaked out, and Luffy, completely unperturbed by your blatant confusion and shell shock.

“I want you to join my crew. You’re brave and you can run really fast, and you sacrificed yourself for your village. You’re a good person. Just the kind of person I want on my crew. I would love to sail with you and find the One Piece.”

Your entire body flushed at his close proximity and compliments, but then what he said registered, and you couldn’t help but bark out a laugh.

“Wait, you really think the One Piece is real?” You asked, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye. Luffy’s smile didn’t dim one bit, and he nodded.

“Of course I do. And you will, too. Once we find it. So, come on.”

You shook your head and bit your lip. “Look, Luffy, thank you. For what you did here. I can never repay you for it. But… I can’t join you. The life of a pirate just isn’t the life for me.”

A shock of yellow caught your eye when you glanced down, and with a start you realized you were still clutching Luffy’s hat. Hurriedly, you shoved it into Luffy’s chest and released it before pulling your hand back as if it had been burned. Luffy had to fumble a bit to catch it before it fell to the floor.

“And, um, I’m sorry about taking your hat. And… for breaking it.” You avoided Luffy’s eyes as you mumbled bashfully, but even without directly looking at him, the bright warmth of his smile was still blinding.

“If you really want to say sorry, or repay me, just join my crew.” Luffy said, still offering you a place on his ship, and it was truly mind boggling to you, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eyes.

“I’m serious. I can’t join you. I belong here, and I’m not interested in life at sea; I wouldn’t be a very good pirate. I… I also don’t know what captain Akubi would do to the village. We still aren’t free, even if you knocked him out.”

At that, Luffy’s smile did fall a bit, but he didn’t frown.

“I understand, (Y/N). But… maybe once you’ve gotten everything settled in your village, you could think about it?”

At that, you finally met Luffy’s eyes, and you were rendered speechless by the pure hope you found there. There were other emotions there too; interest, eagerness, and something soft, something that made your heart constrict and your skin burn. Suddenly, you wondered about what it would be like to have a life at sea with this man — to see him every day, to be a part of every adventure, to grow close to him and know him.

To know every Straw Hat member for who they truly were, and not who the rumors said they were.

You glanced around at the other members of the infamous Straw Hat crew, and with a small smile, you murmured,

“I’ll think about it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: tbh I’m not sure about this ending, but I hope it was good enough for y’all. The next request I’m working on right now is a Sanji request, so be on the lookout for that! Thank you so much for reading!! ❤️❤️

#opla #opla x reader #opla luffy #opla luffy x reader #one piece

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