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oubliette-odette · 6 months

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The Reluctance of Love Pt. 6

Orc Male x Half-Elf Male, Fated Mates, Forbidden Love, Slow Burn Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 Word Count: 2148 (average 16 min read) Content Warnings: mention of mating, nothing happens....yet ;) All orcish is from orcishdictionary.com, created by Matt Vancil. Not beta-read. Criticism is welcome, but be sure to distinguish criticism from hate.

Altan POV

It had been ten days since Drunrag left to find a way to stop lordhovid. I didn’t want to tell Drun and worry him, but I was becoming restless with him gone and things got progressively worse for me. The first few days he had left, I felt like I was able to stay composed rather well. I would visit the markets and spend my evenings in the tavern below my room, sometimes playing my lute which helped me to pay for the extra nights that I hadn’t planned on staying there. Some of the patrons would comment on my flushed composure, but I chalked it up to being new in town and unfamiliar with the warm temperature and that I was sensitive to the fire from the giant hearth in the tavern. But there eventually came a boiling point - for lack of a better word - where I would wake up with a flame inside me that was insatiable. There was nothing that could abate how utterly starved I was to be near Drun.

I spent the latter days in my room at the inn, the door locked. The bedsheets were on the floor because they were too much for me. I would try to read or play or write music, but I usually ended up lost in a heated daze, caught between daydreams of Drun and the fuzzy reality around me.

I still felt that hunger in our dreams, though thankfully not as strong. I would see him, see his beautiful austere visage all nervous and quiet. He looked like his skin was cool and I wanted to press my hand to his and let my burning flesh be cooled by his. But he would always hold back. He was so gods damned respectful of my space. And I honestly wish he wouldn’t be. I was dying to be touched by him. I wanted to know what his tusks would feel against my skin as he kissed my neck. Or how those rough hands would run coarsely against my waist.

Gods, I was a mess.

I knew my father would strike me if he ever caught the sight of me during that time. I was overheated, over aroused, and desperate to be touched by a man - an orc no less. All of those things were unacceptable to him.

He could honestly go fuck himself for all I cared.

Those nights, dreaming with Drun were the moments I held my breath for every night. I liked seeing the way his eyes struggled to meet mine, but when they did, he seemed to struggle looking away. I like how when I said his name, his eyes would also grow wide for just a few moments and his lips would twitch to a dazed smile. He was easy to please, incredibly shy and hard to get him to say more than a few words. But I loved asking him questions, I loved watching how deeply he thought about each question, taking his time and pondering. He reminded me of a tree sometimes. He was large like a tree trunk and tall, but he was deeply rooted and not in a hurry to rush to the next thought. Meanwhile I felt like I was nothing more than a squirrel that climbed up and down his limbs again and again and again at rapid speed. Every minute in his presence had my brain whirling at what to say next, to resist telling him how handsome he was to me, to not talk too fast and overwhelm him.

I learned how patient and kind Drun was through those conversations, and it started to make a little more sense each night why this mating situation was so hard for him. For him, he really needed to think things over and really mull over his decisions. Lordhovid took away the chance to think about his choice from him and it really affected how he viewed his people’s culture. I could tell he struggled with the reality that his way of thinking was so different from his family, but I couldn’t help but admire his devotion to his own personal truths.

I never pressed him on how he was doing in his journey. I dreaded to know if he was close to finding a way to stop lordhovid and there was secretly a hope that maybe all of these dream conversations would help him change his mind.

So I didn’t expect it when one afternoon I was laying my head against the pane of glass in my room when suddenly I felt my body temperature reduce - like a fever had broken - and I lifted my head, sensing the clarity and focus I had lacked for so many weeks. Everything was suddenly in intense focus and I looked around my room - an absolute disaster - and realized that I was fine. I was…normal.

I didn’t know what my reaction was at that time. It was stuck between relief at finally being free and my muscles loose from their tension, but also stunned and sad.

Drunrag did it. He had managed to rid himself - and me - of the mating instinct that kept us tied together.

It also meant that Drunrag now had no reason to ever see me again. Nothing was pulling him to me like before. I realized that with a sense of dread and hopelessness. He was so determined to not sleep with me. So determined to be rid of our connection.

Doubt crept in almost immediately - maybe Drun had only been nice to me because he could distract me while he removed lordhovid. Maybe he was only nice to me because I told him he was my first real friend and he felt bad for me. Maybe he won’t come back now that he’s rid of me. Maybe he hated how easy I was to be wanted by him, just like my father hates me for it. Should I wait for him? Do I tell him everything I felt for him?

I shut my eyes tight and willed the thoughts away. No, Drun would come back and we would be…friends.

I sat, stunned in my room. I looked around and groaned at the disaster I had lived in for the last week while Drun had been gone. The sheets, sweaty and crumpled on the floor, next to a pile of unwashed clothes. A pile of plates that needed to be returned to the tavern downstairs was sitting at the small table in the corner.

I sighed. There was nothing I could do about Drun right now. I uttered a small prayer to Alunis - the Sun God - that Drun would return to me safely and I got to my feet and set about getting my life back in order. I would wait for him, my Drun, to return to me. I had not planned to stay here as long as I had, but I would be careful. I promised not to do anything stupid while I waited.

I gathered the sheets and the clothes and with a few extra coins and a smile, I gave them to the innkeeper’s wife to wash. Her services were thorough and as she took my linens in a basket to a counter behind her, she looked me up and down and told me I was too thin and in need of a good bath. She shoved a plateful of food into my hands and sat me down. I felt her eyes watching me, making sure I took every bite before she lifted me by the collar and pushed me out the door with a token to the bathhouse to get myself cleaned up.

I wandered the streets, still dazed. I wasn’t used to feeling so normal yet. For the past almost three weeks I had been in a state of feverish tension, and my muscles still felt the soreness of being caught in that state of tension for so long.

The bathhouse was quiet during the middle of the day and there were only a few other patrons there. I had never experienced a public bathhouse before. Having the father I did meant that I lived in constant privilege which included private baths. The man at the entrance took my token and guided me to a room to leave my clothes, before stepping out into a large room with a pool of hot, steaming water. I glanced around nervously, catching nobody’s gaze as I stepped into the steam-filled room naked and shivering. It was commonplace for these folk for everyone here to be nude, but I found myself unaccustomed to it and unsure where to keep my eyes.

Once in the water though, I felt my body relax and I breathed deeply, letting the steam fill my lungs with that wet, humid air. This was heavenly. I sighed and sunk my head into the water. My hair had been neglected these past few days and I apologized profusely in my head to the old woman who used to care for it for me.

I kept my eyes closed and I let the warm water wash away the sweat and the history of the last few days from my body. I reveled in being myself again, as much as it caused me angst to know what that would mean next. I stayed until my fingers and toes were wrinkled and I stepped out, dripping and wet and padded back into the room where my clothes sat. I reached for a clean towel from a pile and tousled my hair dry and padded myself off. My clothes were still not clean - but I suffered the experience of putting them back on with a promise that I would wear clean clothes as soon as I got back to my room.

I turned to step out of the bathhouse when I bumped into a large, sturdy chest. I yelped and stepped back, blinking in alarm.

I saw the red phoenix insignia on his chest before I saw his face and I felt my body go cold.

No, I thought, my mind racing, they found me, they found me, they’re going to take me away from Drun.

I shook my head, panic already settling into my bones.

“Altan Hilmar, son of Archduke Taliesin Hilmar?” The man asked. His voice was low, unfeeling and commanding. He looked to be in his fifties, with a full beard and brown eyes that looked down at me as if I were nothing more than a petulant child.

I shook my head again.

He didn’t react to my reluctance to answer, instead he continued, “You are to return to Berdusk where your father will enact the proper consequences for running away.”

“Please.” I breathed, “I can’t go back to him. I won’t go.”

“My orders are clear, young Hilmar, you will come with me to Berdusk.”

“Have you no mercy?” I pleaded. “I will not cause my father any dishonor, but please don’t make me leave. I have to stay here.”

“I am a patient man, Hilmar.” The man continued. “But I also will not tolerate bargaining. I only obey one master, and that is the honourable Duke Hilmar. Now, after you.” He gestured to the door, I looked out and saw that there were two other armoured men with the same insignia on their chests waiting for me.

I couldn’t bow my head in defeat, I couldn’t cry. Not in front of these men. They all watched me closely, carefully. I’m sure they all saw me as some spoiled, rich son of the duke who ran away to be reckless and ungrateful. They probably saw me as weak and useless without any notable skill, but I would not let them see me shrink under their stares. My mother told me my strength was different. I raised my chin high and regarded the man before me. “I will need my belongings.” I said.

“They have already been collected from the inn you were staying at.” The man answered. “Now, move along. We’re taking you home.”

There were too many thoughts in my head as I walked between the line of guards that led me through the walking streets until we arrived upon the stable where a carriage was waiting. I looked down one road, knowing that it led to Drun’s forge. I felt a stutter in my heart as I realized that Drun would return to find me gone.

It was then I could no longer hold my head up strong. I had no way to tell him where I was going. That I wanted to stay. That I was so fond of him, and I admired him and was so grateful that he trusted me and that we were each other’s first friend.

I wish I could have told him that I was falling in love with him.

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cupidlakes · 3 years

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wait bc i got a few asks abt this the other day, as a long time george viewer george not making public statements on stuff like pride month is something i’m used to but i realise that might not be the case for others and i just wanna say i think when he “neglects” to make statements on these things that doesn’t necessarily indicate what he feels or doesn’t feel yk?

ik his silence can feel deafening sometimes but also george himself has said that he’s bad with words i don’t think that means he’s secretly a bigot or anything crazy like that and his actions have always spoken louder than his words anyway in most other aspects, at the end of the day he fosters a welcoming community that’s lgbt+ friendly w/ the rest of the dream team (something at a point i didn’t think was even possible in the online landscape, like seriously the anti-sjw era was rough) and i think that means more to me than anything explicitly stated, maybe even fumblingly, ever could like there’s always more we could all do! of course of course but i don’t expect any grandiose statements from someone i watch for entertainment at the end of the day and it also isn’t indicative of anyone’s true thoughts and feelings, i genuinely don’t think it’s ever smth to worry abt so lay your worries at ease :)

#some thoughts from my overheated brain #my streamer is apol fuckkk 😭😭 /j /lh #but yeah idk #i’m like it’s fine dude #the word performative is so insidious i think when talking abt ppl just wanting to earnestly show support but maybe not knowing exactly how #but yeah #recognising the privilege he does have is important #but also i genuinely don’t think he has to or should make statements on stuff he’s not fully educated abt #/that/ would be performative i’d rather he do his own thing and show support in his own little ways #i could word all of this so much better i swear #i just wanted ppl to get the general idea of what i thought #also i think he made a shout to pride month beggining in ranboos stream #which is cute but also shows if he /really/ didn’t want to mention the month of gay #he wouldn’t #but he did and he wasn’t held at gunpoint by donos /lh #idk i just know i feel welcomed in his community and i always have

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daydreaming-in-letters · 3 years

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Three Nights (Unconditional sequel)

Night Two

05/25/2021

Pairing: August Walker x fem!reader (3rd person)

Word Count: 1,807

Warnings: hormones, sex during pregnancy, fingering, vaginal sex, slight dom!August, dirty talk, language

Summary: In the middle of her second trimester, Mrs Walker is a hormonal mess. One night, she finds herself in dire need of release, but August just won't wake.

A/N: Next part of the sequel coming right up and things are getting a little steamy...

If you like my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. Please don’t copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

(I couldn't find the source of this picture, so if anyone happens to know, please tell me.)

“August?”

Expectantly she listened into the silence. Nothing. Well, at least if one didn’t count his steady breathing and the rolling of the waves in the distance.

“August,” she tried again, a little louder this time. But still he didn’t move. Measuring her options, she watched his face in the pale moonlight that fell through the open windows. He looked so peaceful, and she envied him his deep slumber. How was he not even sweating in this clammy heat?

Finally, the curtains swayed in a breeze of night air, making her hope for a little refreshment, but it only brought more of the sweltering humidity. With a thud, her head fell back into the pillows, underlined by a frustrated sigh. Slowly her hands drifted over the already rather prominent bump that had once been a delightfully squishy part of her body.

“You know this is really only your fault, right? As if the bloody nausea hadn’t been enough in the first place, now you decide to torture me with everlasting horniness instead. Is it too early to say that you’re taking after your father completely?”

But instead of an answer, another gush of wind rolled over her sensitive skin, the sensation alone enough to make her moan as it coaxed another wave of desire to roll through her. This was insufferable, she thought, as she propped herself up on one elbow again. Why wouldn’t he just wake up? At every other time, he picked up on her horny state with the precision of a bloodhound. Damned be his stupid sound sleep.

She bit her lip as a thought crossed her mind. She would most likely regret this and in the end it would probably hurt her more than him. But desperate times demanded desperate measures, and by now she was willing to do almost anything if he only tended to her need and got his dick inside of her promptly.

“August!” she almost yelled and with a swish, her hand cut through the thick air until it came down on his cheek with a harsh slap.

Roaring at the top of his lungs he was wide awake in an instant. And before she could fathom what was happening, she found herself on her back, wrists pressed into the pillow next to her head by his strong hands, furious eyes glaring down at her wildly.

“You’re lucky you’re carrying my child, woman, or you might have found yourself bend over my knees by now to receive your adequate punishment.”

She could feel her walls clench violently around nothing by the mere thought of him having his way with her like that. And before she even had the chance to hold it back, a needy whimper escaped her lips.

“Oh, you would like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, very much.” She bit her lip again and it didn’t escape her notice how his grip on her loosened a bit, his eyes softening equally upon her eagerness.

“Is this why you woke me up?”

She nodded, shooting him a perfect pair of doe eyes. “Bloody hormones won’t let me sleep, Augie.”

With a huff, more of the tension left his body. “At least that would explain why you thought it wise to slap me awake.”

“What else was I supposed to do? I did try the nice way, but you just wouldn’t wake up and my panties are literally soaked.”

He growled lowly in the back of his throat, making her clench even harder.

“Are they now?”

Careful not to put his weight onto her body, he clutched both of her wrists in just one hand. He grinned smugly and she knew immediately that she was in trouble. The best kind of trouble. And while she still couldn’t believe that her ludicrous plan had actually worked, his free hand dipped down between her legs without a warning, forcing them apart to grant him better access. Lazily, he dragged his fingers through her folds, stirring the fire inside of her with minimal effort.

“Now that’s disappointing.” What? Having expected his praise, those words of displeasure made her heart fall instantly. But he wasn’t done scolding her, yet. “First you hit me like a bloody lunatic and now you have the audacity to lie to my face so shamelessly, princess?”

“I’m not lying,” she croaked, feeling utterly sorry for herself as she saw her chances for satisfaction dwindle, “My juices are practically flowing over.”

But August’s face stayed unreadable, giving her no hint at all where this was going.

“Oh, no doubt about that,” he finally stated after a long minute of silence.

Wrinkling her forehead in confusion, she was forced to watch helplessly as his face came closer. She could already feel his searing breath on her lips, closing her eyes in anticipation of a redeeming kiss, when he turned his head only the fraction of an inch before contact and dove down into the crook of her neck.

“But your panties aren’t soaked at all, princess, because actually, you’re not wearing any.”

The hunger in his impossibly low voice would have been enough to make her dizzy, but when he bit down on her neck with purpose her body reacted of its own accord. Her back arched violently, pressing herself into him while a deep moan told of her want for more. And when she suddenly felt his fingertips press into her entrance, she knew that his whole act of disappointment had simply been for show. A distraction, so that he -

Oh God, his fingers were filling her so perfectly. Deeper and deeper he sank into her until he was buried three knuckles deep. With a gasp her eyes flew open again and she almost missed his next sentence above the white noise that rushed in her ears.

“You know, you’re really lucky, my painfully aroused angel. Because your sweet little pussy is far too wet to worry about such minor details now.”

His fingers had picked up a steady pace, sliding in and out of her sensitive womanhood pointedly. It was a good start, she thought, but by far not enough to sate her craving. As always, he enjoyed teasing her more than anything. But unlike every other time, tonight she wasn’t in the mood for his teasing, not in the agonising state she was in.

“August, please,” she whimpered. “You promised to make it better, not worse.”

Unimpressed by her words, he continued his slow ministrations, his mouth nipping and sucking its way from her shoulder to her ear.

“You must be mistaken,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to the soft spot right underneath her ear that made her shiver. “I can’t remember making a promise like that at any point.”

Another wave of frustration took hold of her as her brain registered his repeated rejection. Straining against his tight grip, she was practically begging by now.

“Please, I…”

“Say it!” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Tell me what you need.”

No, she wouldn’t let him have this triumph, even if he chose to deny her the satisfaction she longed for because of her disobedience. In that case she would have to tend to herself, but under no circumstance would she let him tease her anymo - oh.

Holy shit. She didn’t know how this was possible, but it somehow had escaped her notice altogether that his head had abandoned its spot next to hers and had dipped down to pay his attention to one of her oversensitive breasts. And before she would lose her mind completely, she cried out in a state of utter desperation.

“I need you to fuck me, August. Please. Let me feel your hard cock deep inside of me or I’ll go insane.”

In the blink of an eye he stopped, his hands and mouth retreating as soon as she had finally said the words, giving her some time to calm down a little.

“See, that wasn’t so hard, princess, was it?” he whispered smugly. “Now let me deliver you from your agony.”

Her senses still in overdrive, she felt too weak to even move, but that didn’t matter anyway because, as always, August took care of her. Gently he moved her around until her body moulded into his perfectly. His warm chest lay against her back, his arm offering her a comfortable place to rest her head, and soon she could feel the claiming press of his promisingly hard length. With no effort at all, he sank into her, and finally, finally the excruciating unease inside of her ebbed away.

“Shit, I don’t think you’ve ever been this wet, darling.” His hot breath fanned across her neck, setting her on fire.

“I’ve also never been this pregnant and this horny before,” she moaned, her hand finding his on the cool sheets, entwining her fingers with his as he slowly started to move.

“Don’t worry. I promise we’re going to change one of these two in no time.”

And eager to keep his promise, his free hand dove down to the junction of her thighs, granting himself access to her bud. Carefully he pressed down, opting for drawing slow, deliberate circles. She was so hypersensitive as of lately and he was determined not to overdo it like last time. But judging from her elaborated breaths and the tell-tale sounds that fell from her sweet mouth, she was enjoying herself genuinely.

“August.” His name rolled over her lips with a shiver while his mouth tended to the sweet spot on her neck. Argus-eyed, he monitored every movement, every noise she made. Her relief was all that mattered to him now. But the first beads of sweat were already beginning to form on her forehead, triggering his worry in mere seconds.

“Should we stop?”

“No!” she almost cried out as if she was in pain. “Please don’t stop. I’m so close.”

And as soon as she had uttered the words, she could feel the eagerly-awaited tension inside of her build. Every thrust, every kiss he left on her overheated skin, every groan that rolled through his chest brought her closer, pushing her closer towards deliverance. And when she finally passed the point of no return, she turned her head to find his lips while the redeeming pleasure rolled over her enraptured body. And just when she thought she would pass out from all the bliss, she could feel his response.

He was sure that she had never climaxed this hard, her walls gripping him so tightly that the sensation caught him completely off guard. Speeding up his hips, he allowed himself to give in as well. And while his mind gradually clouded over, he grabbed her belly possessively in his last moment of clarity and for the first time, he could feel a sign of the life that was growing inside of her.

Part 3

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#august walker x reader #august walker #august walker x you #august walker imagine #august walker fic #august walker fanfiction #august walker fanfic #henry cavill #henry cavill imagine

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drarrily-we-row-along · 3 years

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Day 6: Proposal

Draco's body sunk pleasantly into the mattress, the soft, cool sheets kissing his overheated skin. His mind was delightfully calm and blank, just floating along in the peace that he could never find outside of this bed and this particular set of arms.

Harry's body was draped heavily over his, rib cage expanding as he tried to catch his breath, the slight quiver in his thighs and his abdomen signalling that he had been just as affected by the proceedings as Draco was.

He blinked his eyes open to watch his own long, pale fingers trail lightly along the other man's bronze skin, the contrast as striking as always. Draco brushed his fingers along Harry's shoulder, then up his neck, before tangling them in his soft curls.

For long moments Draco stroked the other man's hair, being careful not to snag his fingers in knots, before allowing his fingers to delve deeper and gently massage at Harry's scalp.

Harry let out a soft groan and his body relaxed even further onto Draco's, the heaviness of his body a more than welcome weight. After a few blissful moments of Draco's hands smoothing over Harry's skin and through his hair, memorizing all of the strong, hard planes and the soft, smooth curves of his body for the thousandth time, Harry mumbled, "I'll move in just a minute."

"No rush," Draco replied, voice equally soft, equally content. Don't ever move.

But Harry did eventually draw back, not moving too far, just far enough that they could look into one another's eyes. As always seemed to happen when he looked at the startlingly clear, vibrant green of Harry's eyes (when they weren't hidden behind his glasses), Draco's breath hitched in his chest. You are so beautiful.

Harry's fingers caressed his cheek before his lips brushed over Draco's, and Draco's heart pounded against his ribs, trying to escape his chest and find it's way to Harry.

"I love you," Harry whispered before he leaned in and trailed light, barely-there kisses across Draco's cheekbones, "So much, Draco."

And in that moment Draco knew that he wanted this for the rest of his life, knew that he would never feel complete without it, knew that one lifetime would simply never be enough so he needed to make this one count.

He began planning the perfect proposal.

(More under the cut)

It had taken six months. Six months to get everything perfect for his proposal.

He checked himself over once more in the mirror before heading out the door, locking it behind him with his muggle key even though it was warded. His neighbors always gave him funny looks if he just walked away without locking the door.

Draco arrived first, arriving early even though he knew that Harry would be late. It meant he'd have time to run through his speech one more time in his mind. Anxiously he patted his pocket, feeling the comforting weight and shape of the ring box in his pocket.

Soon enough, Harry was rushing into the restaurant, tripping over himself and his apologies. He was always late. Always. Honestly by this point Draco usually brought a book everywhere with him. "Darling," he interrupted, cutting off the flow of the other man's explanation. "It's alright."

Harry's smile was as brilliant as the sun when he plopped into the seat across from Draco, "You look gorgeous."

"Thank you."

"I mean," Harry started before taking a large drink from the glass of water in front of him, "You always look gorgeous, of course."

"Of course," Draco teased.

Harry rolled his eyes as he finished off his glass of water, then he said, "But especially today. I love that shirt on you."

"Thank you," Draco said.

"Don't they usually give us menus here?" he asked, looking around with a bit of confusion.

He nodded, "I took the liberty of ordering for us, though. Do you want some wine? I got a bottle of that Chianti that you enjoyed so much the last time we were here."

Harry just stared at him for a long moment, "Yes," he said finally. "Yes, I do want some wine."

"Alright," Draco replied, a bit disconcerted.

"Sorry, it's just," Harry trailed off, "You amaze me, you know?"

He shook his head and poured him a glass of wine, "It's the trauma," he teased.

Harry laughed, "No. I mean it," he protested. "You remember everything about me. And you're always going out of your way to do nice things for me." He frowned and reached across the table to cover Draco's hand with his, "You're way better at being a good boyfriend than I am."

He laughed, "No, I just know your love language."

"What's your's?" Harry asked as he toyed with Draco's fingers.

"Physical touch," he said with a little smile.

Harry looked up from where he'd been watching Draco's fingers slip through his. "Oh."

"Yes, oh," Draco chuckled. "And you're nearly always touching me so you keep a steady stream of serotonin flooding my brain."

"You know what?" Harry asked.

"What?" Draco replied, humoring him.

"You're perfect for me."

He raised an eyebrow at him, "Only just realizing this Potter?"

Shaking his head, Harry shot him a little grin, "No. I've realized it loads of times, it's just that it's only now occurred to me that I ought to do something about it."

"What?" Draco asked.

"Draco Malfoy," Harry said, with a smile so wide that it crinkled the corner of his eyes. He took Draco's hand in his, "You make me so, so happy. I want this for the rest of my life-"

And suddenly Draco realized exactly where the end of that sentence was headed, "Potter, don't you dare," he threatened.

"Will you marry me?" the other man asked, with that stupidly huge smile on his stupidly handsome face.

"No!" he pounded his fist on the table, "I can't believe you."

Hurt flashed across Harry's face, "Oh," he said. "Godric, Draco. I'm sorry, I didn't know you were that opposed to-"

"I'm not," he said quickly. "I'm really not," realizing the conclusion that Harry must have come to.

"Well, obviously you are," Harry said. "And it's alright," he added, "We don't have to-"

"No," Draco said again and he pulled the ring box out of his pocket, "I wanted to propose to you," he said. "I've been planning this for six months."

"What?" Harry asked, his hand coming up to cover his mouth, eyes comically wide.

Draco gestured to the restaurant around them, "We're at your favorite restaurant, with your favorite jazz duo-"

"I don't have a favorite jazz duo."

"You do," Draco replied. "Every time you hear them on the wireless, you hum along, even when you don't know the song."

"Godric," Harry murmured.

"I sent over flower arrangements, there are over a hundred lilies in this restaurant."

The other man looked around, looking a bit overwhelmed.

"That door over there?" he added pointing to the private room where the restaurant hosted parties. "All of our friends are standing behind that door waiting for us to join them for champagne and dessert."

"What?" he asked, craning his neck to look at the room.

He rubbed a finger over his eyebrow, trying to keep himself from laughing aloud. At this point, he was probably either going to laugh or cry. "I made sure that it would be a night that your favorite waiter would be on and I got here early so I could wait to be seated in his section."

"I have a favorite waiter?" Harry asked.

"You do," he replied. "And I bought your favorite lube, and put on fresh sheets, and left rose petals on the bed, and candles around the room."

"Really?"

"Yes," Draco replied. "I planned out a whole speech."

"You did?" he asked, eyes welling up with tears.

Draco reached across the table and grasped Harry's hands. "I did. I'm so in love with you, Harry James Potter. I've never felt more free, more loved, more me than I do when I am with you. You make me want to be better without making me feel like I'm not enough. I didn't know what happiness was until you and I never want to be without you."

"Me either," Harry whispered.

"I could go on about all of the things I love about you, about what a good man you are," Draco continued, "But we both know that you hate that."

"I do hate that," Harry murmured with a wet little laugh.

Draco cup his cheek and swiped the tear that was escaping Harry's eye with his thumb. "I never wanted to be really known until I met you," he said. "You have taught me so many things about being me and I know it sounds a bit selfish but, I've really liked getting to be me. I want to be the me that you see and I can only do that when you're by my side."

"I love you," Harry said. "Yes. Godric, yes, Draco." He lunged across the table to kiss him just as their waiter appeared with their food.

"Sorry, should I come back?" the man asked.

"We're engaged!" Harry said, pulling back to look at the waiter. "Can you believe it? This gorgeous, brilliant man has just asked me to marry him. Me," he laughed and shook his head and Draco loved him. He ached with how much he loved him.

"I think I'm actually getting the better part, don't you?" Draco asked the waiter.

"It seems you both are," he replied with a big smile. "Congratulations." He set down the food in front of them, "Enjoy. I'll give you a little time before I come back," he added with a little wink.

"Can I see the ring now?" Harry asked.

Draco opened the box and showed him, "It's half of it," he said softly, holding out the curving golden band and sliding it over Harry's fourth finger. "The other band will interlock with it at our wedding."

"It's beautiful," Harry breathed before looking down at the case, "Oh, there's the other half-"

"That's my engagement ring," Draco corrected with an exaggerated huff. "At the wedding you'll get a silver half like the one in the box and I'll get a gold half like the one on your finger."

"I love it," Harry said, leaning over to kiss Draco. "I love it so much."

"Good," he replied, "Now put that ring on my finger," he said, nodding toward the box.

Harry beamed at him as he took the silver ring from the case and slid it onto Draco's finger. "I can't believe we're engaged."

"Me either," he whispered softly, clasping Harry's hand in his own and rubbing his thumb along Harry's palm. After a moment of simply staring at one another Draco said, "We should go back and let our friends know you said yes."

Harry hummed, "Later?" he asked. "Can it just be us for a little bit?"

"Yes," he said softly, heart melting in a way that he hadn't imagined possible. "Just us," he agreed, "As long as you'll have me."

"Always sounds good to me, too."

Day 5: Possessiveness | Day 7: Wedding

#day 6 #drarry drabbles #drarry #drarry ficlets #my writing #fluff #listen. i am *weak* for proposals #thanks for the prompt anon!#100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #drop me an ask if there's a word you want to prompt #love

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himbo-beel · 3 years

Note

I see that requests are open, headcanons of the brothers reaction when MC welcomes them back home wearing a maid dress? I love your works btw

Did you know, dear anon, that you’re one of like maybe three people in total that have said you like these little things I do? It makes me really happy that you enjoy them! I like doing these, too, and knowing others like them makes me want to do more! Thank you!

(requests are currently not open)

Lucifer:

It’s been a long day. It’s always a long day for Lucifer between keeping his brothers out of trouble, R.A.D classes and his student council duties, and ensuring Diavolo’s needs are met and he’s not sure if coming back to HoL seeing MC in that makes his day longer.

There’s 500 hundred things going through his mind - where did they even get that? Did Levi make it? It’s quite nice but if he finds out someone put MC up to wearing it they’re not going to hear the end of it. If it was Mammon then-

“Welcome home, Master~”

All of Lucifer’s thoughts come to a stand still.

Well then. If that’s how MC wants to dress and act, he’s going to make sure MC follows through

MC was probably expecting a slightly....more fun time with Lucifer when they wore it but instead Lucifer makes them clean up his study

His eyes are all on them, though, and he may ‘accidentally’ keep dropping his pen to watch them bend over and pick it up

Mammon:

Whatever he was talking about before he walked through the door is gone, lost, brain empty no thoughts, as soon as he sees MC in a maid dress

The opposite of Lucifer - his mind goes completely blank before it starts going a mile a minute

But, like Lucifer, he wants to know exactly where MC got that, who put them up to wearing it, and what MC thinks they’re doing

He’s a blushing mess the whole time. He’s stuttering and both trying not to look too closely at MC while only looking at MC

Finally grabs them by the shoulders and pushes them to their room telling them to get changed immediately before any of his other brothers see them - for their own safety of course!

Pretends to help them pick new clothes out but is actually just trying to look busy while he keeps ogling MC

Leviathan:

He doesn’t notice MC at first, his head down and attention focused on the handheld game he was playing on the walk back from R.A.D

“Welcome home-” MC starts to say but Levi’s brow furrows as he wordlessly tells them to stay quiet so he can focus. He’s almost beat the final boss!

Except he walks right into MC and drops the game

He’s 0.3 seconds from snapping. Classes are difficult already with how many demons he has to be around all the time and how there isn’t enough time to play games or watch anime between them and now he has to start that game all over!

MC can feel the frustration rolling off him but all it takes is one look at them and Levi is frozen

What is MC wearing? How did they get that? And they’re wearing it for...for him!!??

The game is forgotten, his homework is forgotten, he needs to get MC to his room right now! Not to keep them for himself! But that outfit would look so good next to all his Ruri-chan figures!

MC is in for a 3 hour photo session, whoops

Satan:

A maid outfit? Was that the best MC could do?

Satan is amused when he comes home and hears them welcome him home. Their voice is always a welcome sound to his ears after a long day and the outfit brings a much needed chuckle to his lips

But then MC pulls out a pair of cat ears and places them on their head the amused expression on Satan’s face turns into a blush

“Welcome home Meowster!~”

Satan all but drags MC back to his room. He half wants to punish them for doing something as cheeky as this by making them tidy up his room but the other half of him wants to do something more fun

Asmodeus:

Well isn’t MC just looking so cute in that outfit!

But you know what would be cuter? If it fit better!

Leviathan isn’t the only one that knows how to make clothes - Asmo designs his own brands after all!

Maid outfits aren’t his kind of style, though, but he’ll make an effort for MC!

His hands are all over MC, fingers lightly skimming down their arms and hands touching gently around their stomach as he takes their measurements and tells them just how nice it was for them to give him this little treat after such a difficult day

After a few altercations the outfit fits and looks even better than before. Asmo is tempted to keep MC all to himself but the amount of chaos such a sight could incite among his brothers is too hard to resist

Beelzebub:

He’s hungry after classes and the one thing on his mind when walking back to HoL is to head to the kitchen

MC is already there making him a snack in the maid outfit and for a moment all hunger is forgotten as Beel watches them move from one thing to another, the uniform bouncing around their hips

But once he smells what they’re cooking food is the only thing on his mind again

He’s blushing, though, as MC welcomes him home and offers to feed him

He doesn’t get to eat as fast as he’d like but something about it makes him willing to wait

Belphegor:

He’s tired - of course he’s tired. Not only is he the Avatar of Sloth but the walk to and from R.A.D is pretty long and that’s after all the classes he had to sit through

He wants nothing more than to throw everything on the ground and go to bed

But MC is there welcoming home in....that

MC better hope it’s comfy because Belphie is about to hold onto them for the night and never let go

A frilly maid outfit is not getting in the way of being a body pillow. It might actually be better - with all the skin exposed they wont get so overheated

When Belphie wakes up he demands MC make him breakfast in the outfit

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me shall we date headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #i kind of ran out steam towards the end sorry;;;;

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2-cute-4-school · 4 years

Text

𝙉𝘾𝙏 𝘿𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 : 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙪𝙨𝙪𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙘𝙧𝙪𝙨𝙝 𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙨 𝙨𝙤𝙛𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢

@proseeuhn~aaah its okay if it takes a while! i honestly dont mind! my requests was… how would the dreamies react to their friend/crush who is usually unintentionally quite distant and intimidating being with soft with them and grabbing their hand out of nowhere to just play with it? if that makes sense?? like the friend/crush gets all soft and grabs the dreamies hand and plays with it djskks thank you in advance! ~ Thank you so much for your request (๑>◡<๑) , it was such a fun and original idea, i really enjoyed coming up with scenarios for this (requests are still open btw)

Mark Lee

so mark may be just a tiny huge bit scared of you sometimes

but that’s mostly because babie doesn’t want to make a fool of himself in front of you 🥺

cuz your rbf gives him THE chills sometimes

you’re the definition of a ‘bruh’ person but somehow that’s a huge charm in mark’s eyes he’s royally whipped been there done that

and the one(1) way mark can fully relax and be in his element is when he’s playing the guitar i’d die to see/hear him

and even after he’s done you’re just ✨ vibing ✨ together in silence

until you suddenly reach out and grasp his hand in yours and bring it close to your face

mark.exe has unexpectedly crashed (((( ;°Д°))))

“woah your fingertips are so calloused from playing”

mark needs a cooler PRONTO (⁽⁽ ⁰ ⁾⁾ Д ⁽⁽ ⁰ ⁾⁾)

he’s OVERHEATING FOR REAL and hyperaware of your warm breath fawning over his fingertips

and then you intertwine your hands and bring them into your lap as you brush your thumb against the exposed skin on his hand that you’re able to reach with a small smile on your lips (ﾟ ωﾟ//）

and mark is SHOOK with your casual display of affection and softness

he can’t help but stare at the soft curl of your lips, the light twinkle in your eyes, the fingers that grip his own so firmly yet so endearingly ♡‿♡

“you’re so beautiful” it just slips out

0.0 pause, delete existence, rewind major PANIC

but to his immense surprise a faded hue of red paints your cheeks and ears (๑•́‧̫•̀๑)

“thanks, you’ll get there too eventually “

（ノT＿T)ノ＾┻━┻ way to ruin a moment

but he does forgive you when he feels the index finger of your other hand trace a faint heart on the back of his hand (*>ω<*)

and mark would spend a lifetime playing his guitar if it meant he’d get to witness this unexpected but very welcomed side of you

Huang Renjun

renjun probably watches you like a hawk

your distant demeanor sometimes baffles him poor baby

but he likes you too much to give up so easily whipped man ٩(♡ε♡ )۶

and he does everything he can to *subtly* hint about his tiny huge crush but without making you uncomfortable renjun best boi we been knew

but you don’t seem to get the gist AT ALL (>皿<)

and renjun is getting more and more concerned on your lack of affection towards him

so babie gets lowkey sad (oꆤ︵ꆤo) not allowed in this household

until one blessed time you’re peeking over his shoulder as he inspects one of his unworldly amazing drawings

*GASP* “JUN THAT’S SO BEAUTIFUL”

you hurriedly take a seat beside him and grab one of his hands in yours as you gush over his artwork

“HOW EVEN, THIS IS JUST…JUST- I HAVE NO WORDS, MY JUN IS THE BEST ARTIST IN THIS filthy WORLD!!!11!!!1!” ლ(^o^ლ)

renjun’s brain and face is overheating

‘we…we’re holding ha-hands??!? and they called me best artist- wait ‘MY jun’??!?!!??!?!?’ （◎0◎）

and while he’s already shutting down, you decide enough isn’t enough and give him THE FINAL BLOW

you run your fingers gently over the back of his right hand and you suddenly lean your head on his shoulder as your soft voice registers in his overworked brain

“your birthmark is so pretty, renjun, so unique” (♥ω♥*)

*please bring cold water, towels, a fan, the entire fridge, renjun is burning alive he hot that’s why*

but renjun makes THE ULTIMATE POWER MOVE and brings your intertwined hands up to lay a *smooch* on your hand 🥺

get a room pls

Lee Jeno

the members once said they also found jeno intimidating and cold before getting to know him

so he’s certain that you only need to open up a lil

that’s why no matter how distant and icy you act towards him

he never NEVER gives up

just shoots you one of his ^‿^ smiles and carries on

and unconsciously, you start to soften up around him

and there a very specific moment when he started to realize that

you were helping him cut up some fruits and as he was about to grab another apple, you grabbed his hand, intently inspecting it

jeno having a heated internal debate : ‘chill man, don’t give them a reason to catch you off guard’ (ó﹏ò｡)

“well i gotta admit lee jeno”

“huh?” insert that cute confused sound he makes

“i’m really awestruck by you”

jeno puffing his chest internally : ‘well it’s damn time you noticed me senpai’ (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و

“you’ve really got the ugliest tan i’ve ever seen”

‘ASDFKAWDKSAIKAKJW- *passes out* ‘ X.X

jeno just snatches his hand away and grumbles about fruits and bicycles

he’s sulky the entire day but not because you hurt his ego no

and as much as you love teasing jeno, your growing soft spot for him is acting up and your melted heart just *mush*

so you kick renjun off the couch in order to sit beside jeno renjun tries to protest but you shoot him *that look* and he retreats with his tail between his legs ミ●﹏☉ミ

jeno tries to keep up his deeply hurt act dramatic much

until he feels shy fingers brushing his as if hesitating, before they curl around his firmly

‘ASDFKAWDKSAIKAKJW- *passes out* ‘ x2 because the softness in his heart is just too much for him

later on it becomes a habit neither of you complains

Lee Donghyuck

it’s the 4th time in the past 2 hours

and yes, donghyuck has been keeping count for scientific purposes obv

nvm, it’s the 5th time your hand brushed against his

and hyuck is ✨ ABOUT TO LOSE HIS MARBLES ✨

the demons on his shoulders are arguing by now

‘this is an attempt to subtly hold your hand dumbass’ (－‸ლ)

‘no it’s not, they would never touch anyone, remember when they threatened to chop chop that guy’s balls for touching them?’

‘it’s not the same thing, you’d let the opportunity if holding your crush’s hand pass by like this?’

‘sure go ahead, and then watch y/n dip it in acid’ ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

donghyuck shuddered at the thought

what he doesn’t know is that sure, while sticking a random guy’s hand up his ass for touching you is a ‘been there done that’ for you

hyuck isn’t just a random guy

you’d choke on an asparagus before admitting it, but he has grown on you

sure, he’s still an annoying brat sometimes

but he’s so much more than that, he understood you in ways other couldn’t, he was patient with you and did his best to comfort and show you he cares in his own way (｡♡ˇд ˇ♡｡）

and you grew to care for him too

maybe a bit more than a friend should ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

“hey hyuck!! my hand is cold, warm it up for me”

you acted on impulse before you could chicken out and before hyuck could answer and slipped your hand in his

demon on left shoulder : ‘ha told ya pay up BEACH’

“you only love me for my warmth” said donghyuck totally not blushing and fangirling on the inside

“pffft i don’t love you, i like tolerate you and just shut up human radiator” said y/n totally not swinging their hands back and forward like kids in love

Na Jaemin

this man= W H I P P E D

y/n makes an edible omlet? jaemin : this is real taste, 5 star michelin right here!! stream gods menu cowards

y/n squishes hyuck like a bug for waking them up? jaemin : yes babe whoop go off cutie!!! (•̀o•́)ง

y/n breathes? jaemin : PERFECTION!!!11!!!1!!1!!

so you went from ‘(•ิ_•ิ)? what is this person saying??’

to ‘ (｡•́︿•̀｡)why isn’t he saying anything’ whenever he omits cheering you

but in a subtle way

you can’t have him catching on

so one day you’re sitting at the kitchen table and he’s feeding you pieces of fruit you whine about being able to feed yourself but nana knows you’re secretly enjoying it

when you suddenly snatch his other hand and one of renjun’s pencils left around and you 🥺 him

unfair if you ask him, how is he supposed to say no so he doesn’t

and you start doodling on his hand o(^◇^)o

he tries to peek at what you’re doing but you squeal softly and move to cover your drawing

“nana! wait until i’m done!!!’ (｀0´)

he *melts* at your cute reactions and resorts to watching your face expressions fondly as he occasionally prods your lips with fruit

“done!!!”

you move away to let him see the cute dolphin you drew on the back of his hand and he gushes about the cuteness of your drawing

but then you shyly start fiddling with his fingers as you explain

“you know how a dolphin helped poseidon find his love? this will make sure you’ll always find me” (๑•́‧̫•̀๑)

jaemin, softly smiling in understanding, curls his own fingers over yours and brings them up to his chest

“you don’t have to worry about that”

Zhong Chenle

chenle doesn’t seem a very affectionate person either

so he’s not really worried about your lack of affection social distancing

what he is worried about is that you’re also distant on an emotional level

because what if he misreads you?

what if you misunderstand him because of the lack of communication?

what if he isn’t there for you the one time you need him?

this baby just wants you to know he cares (◕⌓◕;)

but at the same time he doesn’t want to act in a different way around you read as doesn’t want to make a fool of himself in front of his crush

also you’re quite close

as friends for now (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

and as he does with all his close friends : he brings you to his home in china!!!!

and this boi has the surprise of his life when you obviously make an effort to open up to his family ໒( ͡ᵔ ▾ ͡ᵔ )७

you smile and chat a lot with his mom and chenle also gets to talk a lot with you since he has to translate so who’s the real winner here

and you know that variety show(?) where chenle dances with his grandpa in the park? you go there too (∗´꒳`)

and while you’re both waiting on the side…

you!!!!grab!!!!his!!!!HAND!!!! and pull him towards the dance floor!!

chenle : Σ(゜ロ゜;) then looks at you being all : o(^◇^) and chenle turns to : (●♡∀♡) whipped culture everyone

he barely even breathes until you settle for a comfortable dance pattern, one of your hands on his shoulder, one of his laying gingerly on your waist respectfully cuz he is a manners man

but most importantly : hands clasped together at the side!!!!!!

and these minutes in which you just dance together without a worry, chenle gets to live his long forgotten childhood dreams 🥺 you know how in cinderella it’s the dance that starts everything? yeah that

chenle marks this date in his calendar and makes it a national day

Park Jisung

lyin’ is a sin so we don’t do that in dis household

jisung is highly intimidated by you (⌣_⌣”)

as in he likes likes you but he doesn’t dare act on his feelings in any way

so renjun and haechan took it upon themselves to play cupid a horrible decision really

and it seems that their attempts at dr. love only ended up in disasters

locked you together in a rollercoaster together? jisung threw up on both your laps (✦థ ｪ థ)ﾉ

ice skating together? jisung stumbled into you, knocking you over so you left the ring with a bruised chin and sore knees and jisung : (シ_ _)シ

arcade hangout? your competitive self almost made jisung cry you not only ignored him but also kicked his ass in every. single. game

so no one had any expectations when they arranged a horror movie night and invited you to sit beside jisung ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

you were awfully quiet since the start of the movie which wasn’t necessarily unusual but ya know

but the atmosphere was getting tenser and tenser and you just knew some kind of jumpscare was coming

and survival comes first!!!! so you clutch onto the nearest thing

jisung’s hand ding dong correct!!!!

and you also bury your face in his shoulder subtly (っ⇀⑃↼)っ

you, shitting your pants : not a word to the others

jisung, also shitting his pants : not one

but uh even though jisung is awkward and everything, he isn’t complaining!!

he finds comfort in your death grip and you’re also his crush so DOUBLE WIN!!! !(•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑

ofc the others notice but they don’t say a word because ✨ you’re cute ✨ so they leave the teasing for later thought you escaped? not a chance beach

and to make it all even more embarrassingly cute, you fall asleep like that

and you wake up the next morning tucked in jisung’s side with a sore neck, clammy hands and 200 notifs on your phone with pictures of you and jisung sleeping from every possible angle (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)

and with a soon-to-be boyfriend too

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obikinn · 3 years

Text

anakin’s armor kink

a very loose interpretation of the prompt “obi-wan in mando armor” on new sw canon this week. written for @shelton-devers who is now legally obligated to watch the rest of the prequel trilogy.

i wrote this in an hour, don’t think about it too hard, lol. slightly spicy content under the cut:

Anakin was so used to sauntering into Obi-Wan’s quarters at any time of the day that he never bothered to knock anymore. After Anakin’s knighting, Obi-Wan had pressed the keys to his rooms into Anakin’s hands with a smile and a promise that he was welcome whenever.

When Obi-Wan said that, he likely hadn’t expected Anakin to spend more time in Obi-Wan’s quarters than his own, but he never told Anakin to leave, thankfully. Sometimes Anakin would start to drift off while drinking tea and gossipping at odd hours of the night, and Obi-Wan would let them curl up together in his bed. They never spoke of it, but Anakin secretly cherished those nights most of all, memorizing the safety and warmth he felt wrapped up in Obi-Wan’s arms.

So when Anakin strolled into Obi-Wan’s quarters one afternoon after dueling practice with only a “What’s up, old man?” to announce his presence, he choked on his words when he noticed a red beskar-clad stranger sitting at the table with no Obi-Wan to be seen. Out of instinct and likely leftover adrenaline from sparring, his hand flew to his lightsaber at his side.

The Mandalorian startled and stood up from his seat. “Relax, Anakin, it’s only me,” a familiar voice said, and Anakin sighed in relief when he realized he could only sense Obi-Wan’s calming golden presence in the Force. That didn’t mean he was prepared for the moment that Obi-Wan took off his helmet.

Anakin’s soul nearly jumped out of his body as he stared at Obi-Wan, forcing his jaw not to drop. His usually put-together hair swooped over his forehead, just the right amount of dishevelled from the heart. His cheeks were flushed meiloorun red, glistening with a slight sheen of sweat. The Mandalorian armor hugged Obi-Wan’s body perfectly, much more revealing than his typical endless layers of Jedi robes. The crimson red of the beskar contrasted perfectly with Obi-Wan’s skin tone, and accentuated the crystal blue of his eyes.

Anakin had always appreciated his Master’s beauty and had pined away even while he was wrapped in beige, but this was a sight like no other. Obi-Wan practically emanated danger dressed in armor, and Anakin’s blood thrummed. He felt like he was overheating in his own robes, and noticed with a gulp that his cock was beginning to harden.

As much as Anakin tried to force himself to look away, his eyes were locked onto how the enticing column of Obi-Wan’s neck led into the sharp lines of the beskar. He cursed himself as his cock throbbed, and he tried to kickstart his brain into functioning again. Words faded away before they could tumble off of his tongue.

“Is everything alright, dear one?” Obi-Wan asked, and Anakin only flushed more horribly in response. The smooth tones of Obi-Wan’s accent combined with the endearment did nothing to reduce his arousal, and not for the first time, Anakin thanked the Force for how well Jedi robes hid inconvenient erections.

After an uncomfortably long pause, Anakin remarkably managed to remember how to form words into sentences. “Master, uh, why are you, er… why are you wearing this?” he stuttered out, gesturing at Obi-Wan’s everything.

Obi-Wan furrowed his eyebrows. “Oh, didn’t I tell you? I performed in a historical play for the crechelings,” he explained, which did sound vaguely familiar to Anakin. His brain was still too busy malfunctioning at the sight of Obi-Wan in armor to truly recall any particular conversation. “I just got back a few minutes ago and thought it would be a fun surprise for you.” It definitely was a surprise, but Anakin wasn’t sure he would call it fun, as he furiously tried to think about anything but how his pants were starting to get uncomfortably tight.

“Are you sure everything’s alright? You don’t look well, could I make you some tea and check your temperature?” Obi-Wan reached forward to place his palm against Anakin’s forehead but Anakin leaped backwards from the skin-to-skin contact, skittish and oversensitive.

“Yeah, Master, I’m fine, no need to worry about me! I just remembered I have this, uh, thing to do and you don’t want me to be late, so I’m just going to head out, yeah,” Anakin babbled as he quickly made his retreat, burning with shame as he practically sprinted out of the room.

#obikin #fanfic #mine #considered writing more for this but eh i'm tired #also i have no clue how to describe armor lmaooo sorry

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anika-ann · 3 years

Text

Stockings (S.R.)

Type: Modern-college-professor AU - part of Attached series or a standalone

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 3000

Summary: You just wanted to decorate the apartment for a bit, you swear.

It wasn’t your fault that it was impossible to stay with your mind out of the gutter for longer than five minutes whenever Steve was around.

A/N: No knowledge of Attached needed I think 😉 Feel free to read as a standalone, you’ll find it in my masterlist as both.

A/N 2: For @wonderlandmind4 ‘s challenge. Congrats on your follower count and for coming up with this awesome challenge!

Prompt: “Those - weren’t the kind of stockings I had in mind-“ (bold in text)

Warnings: suggestive themes, implied smut with tiny bit of action so 18+, nsfw, language (always), and one (1) trope that has definitely been used before

Series masterlist

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

When the idea of decorating first flashed through your mind, it was, honest to God, completely innocent.

Due to loads of schoolwork, Halloween somehow passed by and you barely noticed, the most festive thing you had done being the indulgent orders of pumpkin spiced lattés and hogging some of the candy for your exam time stress-eating. Candy which just happened to be shaped like spiders, snakes, witches and other lovely stuff.

But that was it and with ditching the spooky holiday and the Thanksgiving which no one in your apartment was allowed to talk about, you itched to celebrate at least one of the holidays in peace and with everything that belonged with it.

Gifts, obviously.

Baking, perhaps.

Decorations, absolutely.

Last year, you and Penny had gone a bit overboard, fully affected by the holiday madness, and bought half the store (well, as much as your financial situation allowed anyway). Your dorm room looked as if Santa puked there, as Penny elaborately put it, but you both adored it.

Now, with Steve, you knew you had to be considerably more restrained.

Not that he would notice if your apartment turned into a damn Santa village, because he was too preoccupied with grading midterm papers. Non-stop, it seemed. The pile never ever appeared to be reducing.

However, you and Steve had set a rule that even if you were both crazy busy, you’d make time for at least one or two evenings together – simply to take few moments to fully appreciate each other’s company.

That night, Steve’s mind wandered despite trying to stay focused on you, you could tell. You felt for him, you truly did… but you missed him. Your time together, truly together, became so rare lately and--- you didn’t want to end up like the couple that kisses goodnight and good-morning just because they share quarters and a bed, and ignores one another for the rest of the day.

Rather than letting the gloomy thoughts consume you though, you tried a different approach; humour.

After all, that was how your relationship had started, along with loads of awkwardness.

“Penny says hi, by the way,” you said casually, practically feeling Steve’s absence despite his body engulfing you as you cuddled on the couch, movie on your laptop playing in the background which neither of you were watching.

Steve hummed, his fingers never ceasing the comforting strokes on your arm.

You adored him, you did – which really was the reason why you couldn’t but mess with him, tease him for his mental trip to the far-away lands.

“She and Bucky hooked up again.”

“Mm.”

“She still claims he was the best she ever had.”

“Oh, that’s interesting,” Steve muttered, almost as if he was actually listening to you.

“I’m meeting them tomorrow both, because they offered me a threesome.”

“That’s nice.”

The corners of your lips twitched. God, Steve was lucky to have you to take his mind off his job sometimes, otherwise he would work himself into the ground with how much of his brain space was filled with university matters. He was so detached from life sometimes…

“Bucky asked if he could film it, do you think I should say yes?”

“Whatever you think—wait WHAT?!” he cried out, sitting up straight, hence pushing you up too since you had been nestled on his chest.

Giggles erupted from your throat as you watched his perplexed and scandalized face, realization slowly dawning on him as he probably went over the last few sentences that left your mouth – and his expression gradually melted into an apologetic one, blending into exhaustion as he ran his hand down his face.

You cupped his cheeks then, leaning in to plant a kiss on his forehead – you would swear it was a fraction hotter than normal, his poor brain overheating – and stifled the aww threatening to spill when Steve closed his eyes contentedly, a hum vibrating in his chest.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered, kissing your lips chastely before wrapping his arms around you to hold you close again, face nuzzling your hair. “I’m listening now.”

You curled into his warmth, much more welcoming than the comforter wrapped around you.

“It’s okay, Stevie. I know you’re tired. We’ll just call it a night.”

“But you wanted to talk about something?” he protested softly, earning a hum in affirmation.

“Just wanted to ask if you’d be okay with me decorating the apartment? Just a bit, to bring a piece of the Christmas spirit in here?”

You could feel his smile against your scalp as his thumb caressed your shoulders blades, his large form shifting for a bit.

“We both live here, sweetheart,” he reminded you and you made a tiny sound of protest. Yes, he was correct, but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t consult him on stuff before messing with the interior, even if it was with the best intentions. Duh. “But I appreciate you asking. Decorations, huh?”

You withdrew, meeting his tired eyes with a barely-there twinkle. You smiled at up at him innocently, showing him a tiny space between your thumb and index finger.

“Just a little bit. Just the basics…”

“Uh-huh. The basics. So that’s what? Christmas lights, stockings, mistletoe, a tree?” he mused, his thumb moving to your chin, to your lower lip, brushing it tenderly as you nodded minutely with a smile. His irises lit up a fraction with that image he must have painted in his mind and you felt familiar warmth around your heart at the sight. “I guess we’ll have to talk about getting a tree then. But it sounds nice, babygirl. The mistletoe in particular.”

He proceeded to capture that lips with his, lazy but indulgent kiss that sent pleasant sparkles down your spine and yet made you sleepy as it was soothing, feeling like home.

“Yeah. Sounds nice,” you echoed dreamily, meeting his lips again in a short kiss before nudging him to stand up so you could begin to move to bed.

Only later it occurred to you just how nice you could do with the stuff Steve had mentioned if you tried – and you fell asleep in his arms, a menacing grin that would make Grinch green with envy on your lips.

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Carrying the box after hanging one mistletoe branchlet in the kitchen along with very few fairy lights in the window, you were ready to move onto the bedroom, where Steve was, again, working.

Not for long, you hoped – after all, you put notable effort into your appearance.

With a small smirk on your lips, you knocked on the separating wall, peeking from behind it, trying your best not reveal too much.

Steve didn’t even bother looking up, a semi-loud hum the only sign of him acknowledging your presence.

“I’m gonna decorate this room… you mind me messing around for a bit?” you asked, attempting to sound compassionate about his workload, which you were, and perfectly innocent, which you were not.

That got him eye you briefly, an unconvincing smile passing his lips.

“Sure, go ahead,” he encouraged you softly. He turned his gaze back to the papers on his desk and started writing notes before you could even respond – hence missing your victorious smile.

“Thanks!”

You gleefully walked in, steps soundless against the floor thanks to the thin fabric covering your soles, and placed the box on your own desk.

The rustle of papers and the sudden lack of scribbling sound had you biting your cheek so you wouldn’t burst out laughing.

Steve cleared his throat loudly; when you looked at him over your shoulder however, he went back to reading his damn papers.

You swallowed your disappointment, trying not to think much of it – Steve could be very patient when he wanted to be – or very impulsive. And sometimes, he was both at the same time.

So you pressed your lips together and removed the other branchlet of mistletoe from the top of the box, following with Christmas lights, putting whatever you needed on the desk.

“Sweetheart…” Steve’s voice sounded from his seat, partly amused, partly… hoarse, affected, and you had to bite your lips so the giggles wouldn’t spill out. “What are you wearing?”

You turned to him, making a show of checking your outfit, letting your palms sprawl over your barely covered thighs and slowly moving them up, the hem of Steve’s loose ivory sweater hiking up an inch and revealing the lace of your thigh-high crimson stockings; perhaps even offering a peek of the straps holding them in place due to the garter belt.

“Your old sweater… and stockings,” you offered with a one-shoulder shrug, cool as cucumber in December – or as yourself teasing your loveable boyfriend at the end of November – on the outside, giddy on the inside as his gaze trailed all over your figure, wavering at the lace and the patch of skin on display, before focusing on your face.

“Those-- those weren’t the kind of stockings I had in mind-- when I, uhm, talked about decorating this place,” he explained.

He sounded almost patient, as if it wasn’t clear as day. His irises, however, were not clear – a cloud of desire covered them, turning them a shade darker, hungrier.

It sent a pleasant shiver up your spine, heat pooling in your belly, satisfaction at inching closer to your goal causing your chest nearly puff with pride.

“Oh, my bad!” you exclaimed, chuckling self-depreciatingly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you eyed Steve from under your eyelashes, picture perfect of innocence… not. “Silly me! I’m sorry, I know how much you hate me in stockings…”

“Babygirl…”

His voice resembled a growl, a low warning not to toy with him – which was exactly what you did want to do, teasing him shamelessly when having added emphasis on him not liking your attire.

Stockings and/or his clothes on you got your boyfriend going in fact, sometimes for hours even, thank you very much.

“Yes, Steve?”

“This isn’t going to work, you know. I really have to finish these,” he stated and you most definitely didn’t imagine the impatience and his dislike towards his task sneaking into his voice.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. These are just…” you bit gently on your lower lip, sliding your palms up and down your thighs, Steve’s gaze following the motion instinctively, pupils dilating with the craving to replace your hands with his own, “…comfy, just like your sweater. You never minded when I borrowed it before—you know I love stealing it. It just… it smells like you and it’s warm. It’s like you’re all over me. It’s perfect.”

His glare zeroed on your mouth, slightly accented by a natural, yet visible shade of your lipstick. Steve didn’t say a word, simply staring – and shifting slightly in his seat, much to your glee, which hopefully didn’t show too much – and grumbling an unidentifiable noise.

You felt for him, you truly did – god knew that sometimes, you were overwhelmed with schoolwork too – but that didn’t stop you from smiling at him sweetly now, adding an apologetic tone to your next words.

“Sorry. I talk too much. Don’t let me disturb you. You have work to do and so do I. I’ll be as quiet as a mouse.”

Then you spun on your heels and went back to continue your previous activity, laying out decorations on your desk.

Steve only grunted behind you, but you could hear him as he started going through the papers again, probably trying – and hopefully failing – to ignore your presence.

It wasn’t that you wanted to be mean, there was no single drop of malice in your plan; Steve needed to get his head off his work for a bit, even if he wasn’t aware of it. The way he was overworking himself was beginning to threaten to his sanity.

You simply wanted to help and this was just the way that had crossed your mind first; it was entirely on Steve and his stupidly perfect everything that you couldn’t seem to get your head out of the gutter sometimes when in his presence.

You wished nothing more than for him to turn off his brain… and to relax and enjoy himself.

Clearly, he was enjoying the view indeed.

You caught his sharp inhale when you accidentally dropped a tacky plastic Santa and proceeded to bend over to pick it up… offering Steve a perfect view of your rear and revealing the smart garter belt you wore; with nothing as much as a thong, leaving your most intimate areas bare.

You heard him shuffling in the chair and had to smirk, mentally counting down the time until his resolve broke.

He was holding up quite bravely – nearly long enough to make you doubt your ability to seduce him. Except the shuffle of papers that followed sounded as if he was trying to make a point and you knew that the breaking point was on horizon.

So when the time came to set in motion what you assumed would be the final strike – pushing the chair from your desk to the middle of the room to get ready to put your stockings on display right in his natural line of vision – you delicately took the branchlet of mistletoe with you, climbing up and carefully tying it to the lamp.

Steve’s pen hit the desk with a click and you quickly shot him a glance, meeting his stern and yet rather amused eyes. He sighed at your ridiculously unsubtle antics, but one corner of his lips rose anyway.

“Alright, that’s it. Get down here, you little minx,” he huffed.

Oh, sweet victory.

Mirroring his expression, you retorted cheekily: “Come get me.”

There was no missing the dangerous glint in is eye as he rose to his feet and stalked to your chair, a smirk playing on his lips, every movement purposeful and precise as if he was a predator chasing his prey to the corner.

Your breathing picked up as he neared, your heart pounding, chest heaving quickly – fuck, wasn’t it an erotic sight, Steve’s figure cladded in plain t-shirt and sweats, looking up at you as if he was about to eat you alive.

Maybe it was the expression on his face, somewhere between aroused, amused, cocky and predatory at the same time. Maybe it was the outline of his semi-hard dick on his sweatpants. But shit, you knew you were in trouble, you loved it, and you might have been this close to drooling. You were glad for forgoing underwear, because it would be absolutely useless and soaked through in an instant.

And Steve hadn’t even started yet.

Stopping right in front of you, craning his neck only a bit to face you (the tall bastard), his wide palms sprawled over your calves, their heat warming you from inside out.

An appreciative hum rumbled in his chest as his touch trailed up at torturously slow pace, drinking in the sight of your ragged breaths, indulging in every inch he laid his hands on. You couldn’t withhold the shudder running through your whole body and his grin widened.

“You’re such a fucking tease….” he whispered, licking his lips as his gaze fell lower again, following the movements of his hands, clasping the back of your thighs now, inching toward their inner part, fingers brushing the hem of your stockings.

“Is it-“ You had to clear your throat against the lump that grew there, your body buzzing with anticipation, the smart remark growing heavy on your tongue. “Is it teasing when you can just take what you want?”

He chuckled, a delicious dark sound, bringing more slickness between your legs, much to his apparent satisfaction as he set eyes on his prize.

“Downright naughty…”

His mouth landed softly on the inside of your right calf, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs to nudge them few inches apart to make space for him.

“Does that… uhm, does that mean I won’t be getting any presents from Santa this year?”

You had genuinely no clue how you managed to form a sentence through the fog of arousal around your brain, only growing thicker when Steve’s teeth grazed the skin above your knee, his fingertips brushing an extremely sensitive spot so close to your core.

“You could come down now, be a very good girl and I might put in a good word for you,” he muttered, biting down some more, drawing a mewl from your lips, another one escaping you when he snapped one of the strings holding your stockings in place.

The sharp gentle pain was enough to make words roll off your tongue.

“You think that would work?”

“Oh sweetheart…” Steve chuckled again, a huff of breath warming your thighs, before his eyes, wide-blown and hungry, met yours. “If it doesn’t… you can be damn sure I’m gonna give you fucking everything I have.”

You yelped when his grip on the back of your thighs tightened and he tugged you forward, your hands instantly going to his shoulders to maintain balance as you found yourself with no surface under your feet all of sudden.

He grinned up at you – the show-off, but by God, wasn’t the demonstration of strength setting your body on fire, rendering you speechless – and slowly lowered you to the ground, half-lidded eyes zeroed on your lips. He made damn sure that you felt his erection against your body at all time as he always loosened his grip and tightened it a second later, until your feet touched the ground – and yet you felt your legs shaking, unsteady with the need to feel more of him.

It dawned to you how crazy he managed to drive you, your roles reversed, your plan backfiring. But was it? Backfiring? Because you couldn’t wait to see how it would unfold--

His hands slipped under the sweater you stole from him, one grasping your hip to hold you tight against his body, fingers of the other diving into the pool of slick between your legs, causing you to jerk forward into his hand.

He leaned down to nip at the skin of your neck right under your ear, forefinger circling your clit for a good measure, drawing a needy moan from you.

“And I bet you’re gonna take it…” he hummed into your ear, satisfied smile audible in his hoarse voice, “and thank me for it like the good girl you are.”

You barely forced the words out, heavy with desire but any less true.

“Yes, Professor Rogers. I think I will.”

“Damn right.”

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S.R. masterlist

Attached masterlist

The One Word (next in timeline)

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I really wanted to come up with an original title… and failed. Also, it was supposed to be a drabble, but you know that I tend to babble… and rhyme, apparently.

Thank you for reading and for any kind of feedback :-*

185 notes · View notes

fictionalmenmistress · 4 years

Text

Shadow From The Window (Leonardo)

Imagine your scared of the dark and alone, but your sexy hero-in-the-half-shell comes to sleep at your side, after a long partol. Exausted, he forgets how easy you startle, and comforts you.

(SFW but blushy, leaning Fem!Reader/ but also gender-neutral, Bayverse Leo, no swearing, FLUFF, a lil spooky at the start but all sweet and completely handle-able. Its safe 💙)

(So, this is my first official post here and I'm so excited! First of all, HI EVERYONE! I'm so happy to have found my peoples and to be here uwu, I love you all. Hopefully, this brings you comfort to rest before bed, or in the middle of the night. Want me to do one for all the boys? Lemme know!💙)

I am writing this at 2-3 am, after imagining this scenario to comfort myself, settling down to rest. The thought of Leo hiding in the dark, makes the dark a lot less scary. (Tho I decided to write it instead of resting lol) LETS GET IT!

Its 3 am in your studio apartment.

You've been living in New York city for a while now, but its always been a hassle to fall asleep in your own place. That's been the hardest adjustment after leaving home... how scary it can be on your own. Truth be told, you're 'scared of the dark'. Not nescessarily scared of the darkness itself, but the shadows in the corner of the room... the random noises and things that go bump in the night... the mere thought in the back of your mind that something, as ridiculous as it sounds to others, will come and get you once your guard is down.

There you lied, stiff as a board on your back. The covers, pulled up to your neck, as you breathed in and out as silently as you could. Why did you still feel like you had to hide from monsters or bad guys in your own home? "Dang it, y/n..." you sighed, wiping the nervous cold sweat from your forehead, overheating internally from the anxiety.

"WHY... why did I have to watch that horror movie with Donnie?" You thought, internally shouting at yourself. "He said its not scary, that its 'too absurd to be plausible, and thus won't trigger a reaction of fear'. So much for a slow and steady introduction to the genre!"

You should have known when Raph said "Nope, I'm out." Donnie sat there the whole time, laughing at the movie at the scariest and most ill-timed moments... and you recall just glaring at him, teeth chattering, whispering to yourself:

"Yeah, he's cracked alright."

Just because something isn't scientifically proven, doesn't mean it can't happen... or hasn't happened, right?

"Ugh..." you groaned, curling your lips into a gremace, scared your groan was too loud amongst the unsettling silence. "I can't sleep with the lights on again..."

Glancing toward your phone, you noticed a blue light illuminate the screen, informing you that you got a new text. But that blue light... it instantly made you think of the blue-loving turtle you so dearly loved. The light of your life.

'Leo would protect me.'

Ah, that comforting reminder that you would feel so safe in your boyfriend's arms... if only he were here with you.

But... he wasn't. He was probably out on patrol, far away, and unable to come any time soon, even if he could.

"That's it." You said, taking and deep breath and mustering up all of your courage, throwing the covers off and dashing to the light switch.

*flick!* And... everything in the room was normal. It was comforting, but you scolded yourself for not accepting that everything was already secure, and nothing was lurking in the dark.

Everything was still, as you closed your curtains and lied back down in bed.

"Light on it is." You sighed, before the light suddenly flickered by itself.

"Oh crap-" you muttered, taking a gulp, as the power went out. "OH CRAP, ITS JUST LIKE THE MOVIE-"

Now, you felt screwed. You lied as still as possible, for what felt like forever, refusing to close your eyes. Dang it... DANG it!

Grabbing your phone light, you quickly tip-toed to the bathroom, trying to pee as fast as you could, so you could get back to your warm bed where it feels semi-safe.

As soon as you opened the bathroom door, you noticed your curtains flowing and twirling in the night wind. Street sounds from the never-sleeping city below echoed faintly through your widely-opened window.

"My window... is open?" You thought in horrified shock, examining your surroundings in the dark carefully.

You froze in your tracks, as your phone light turned itself off.

BATTERY TOO LOW TO USE FLASHLIGHT, PLEASE CHARGE.

A chill went down your spine, as you stood there in the center of everything, slowly backing to a corner, where you planned to crouch in the fetal position, so you could see all angles of the room for the rest of the night.

You took another step back, and another, before you bumped into a large mass, standing behind you.

'Not the wall...' your brain registered, feeling the heat of whomever or whatever this tall thing was, radiating against your back.

"Hello, beautiful~" A deep voice chuckled, startling you.

Jolting around, you saw a dark, tall shadow, looming before you.

The fear disoriented you, quickly rushing adrenaline through your body, as your fight or flight reacted. You quickly let out a shriek, chucking your dying phone at the shadow and darting quickly toward the window.

The shadow caught the phone instantly, with lightning fast reflex, as a large hand suddenly wrapped around your wrist, gently yet firmly pulling you back into the room before you crawled out onto the fire escape.

"WHOA, hey hey! Y/N easy! Its okay." A gentle, farmiliar voice assured, gently pulling you around to face him. "Its just me!"

"L-let go!" You whimpered, still not realizing who it was. "P-please..."

"Hey, its me..." he softly whispered, as your breath began to steady, blinking a couple of times as his identity fully set in. "Shh, sh sh sh." He lulled.

"L-Leo?" You squeaked in disbelief.

The figure slowly leaned into the moonlight, casting over you from the open window, revealing his GORGEOUS, icy blue eyes. Those intense-yet-soft eyes... that you knew and loved more than anyone else's. That comforting, strong, lovingly soft gaze, that instantly reassured you that you were safe.

"Your aim is getting better," he softly chuckled, smirking with his adorable grin. Leo slowly slid your phone before you, onto the moonlit sheets, barely revealing his outstretched, chiseled, manly hands. "I'm so sorry I scared you, love. I didn't mean to... I would never on purpose..."

Leo's voice sounded composed, but also ashamed and regretful, as he became more serious to apologise. He always spoke so softly to you...

"Leo, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to, I-" you desparately assured, bursting into tears. "I-"

"Hey hey, I should have knocked, or called. I'm sorry I scared you, sweetheart. I thought I would suprise you in a good way, not startle you." He murmured, reaching his large hands out to gently grasp you, holding you in his arms.

"Oh... I'm so happy to see you!" You sighed, falling against him.

"Donnie felt bad about that scary movie, he told me about how scared you were and begged me to check on you." He whispered, with that composed, reassuring voice.

"Oh Leo... you really came." You whispered, sniffling back your tears.

"Of course, my love... I came straight here after patrol. I would have come sooner, but Raph was getting his shell handed to him by this big..." he hesitated, biting his lip.

"Leo?" You asked, wondering why he stopped.

"-You know what? It doesn't matter." He gently corrected, changing the subject.

"What? What was it?" You innocently asked, curling up against his warm, sculpted chest.

You could feel Leo's skin grow warmer with a blush, as he slowly and sweetly welcomed your embrace, holding you close.

"I'll tell you during daylight. Just... sweetie, I'll never let anything bad happen to you, as long as I live. You're safe, whether I'm near or far. Okay, sweetheart?" Leo promised with his deep innocent voice, planting a soft kiss against your forehead.

Suddenly, you heard a generator power on through your front door, and the power flicked back on.

You could at last see him. See his muscled arms around you, and the tails of his worn out blue mask resting against his chest, along side you. His plastron... rising and falling as he took in slow breaths.

Leo was so careful holding you in his arms... like you were this precious, tiny thing, that he adored with his entire existance.

"Hey, you... you there?" He muttered, growing increasingly bashful in his tension.

"I'm here." You gently assured with a smile, before pulling away to examine his handsome face.

Leonardo. Sexy, handsome, justly-confident, fierce leader. This fearless, giant turtle mutant, who was unlike anyone else in the world. His jaw clenched from sudden bashful nervousness, as his gaze shyed away from your eyes. Your stare always overwhelmed him... it was such an intimate thing to meet his eyes.

Leo cleared his throat, as he slowly reached out to your face, ever-so-carefully wiping away a tear from your cheek, watching intently and focusing as he did so.

Over cautiously gentle so he wouldn't risk hurting you with his strength.

"There we go..." he softly whispered in satisfaction, sighing with a relieved smirk.

"Can you..." you began, with every ounce of security and confidence you could muster. "Can you... stay? With me, all of tonight?"

You felt your cheeks blush intensely, blooming red, as Leo bit on his bottom lip. His eyes widened, as he fully realized your question.

"Y-yeah, o-of course I can..." Leo answered, all of a sudden a thousand times more innocent and adorable, intensely flattered and touched that you wanted him to stay at your side. "Uh... I'll... uh-" he began, moving back from kneeling on your bed before you, aimlessly pacing into your tiny kitchen.

Leo usually was so bold and certain, organized and authoritative, when he was on the move.

You recalled how you had seen first-hand how he can lay out the strategy of attack for the boys. He could be flipping into action, or running through the rooftops as he did it, with perfect coordination in his speech and movements. But with you and only you, Leo wasn't able to get the words out when he was this nervous or bashful.

He had a tendancy to overthink things.

Leo wandered into the cupboard, beginning to steep some tea on the stove as his tongue caught up with his brain.

"Do you want... tea?" He gently asked, clearing his throat.

Such husband material...

"Ah, sure." You grinned, sweetly answering.

You realized how safe and secure you felt now, with him in the studio. You weren't alone anymore.

Leo didn't say much while he prepared the tea. He hyper-focused to distract himself from the nervousness of staying at your place, ALONE with you for the night. He paced around without speaking... doing little thoughtful things, like closing the window and locking it for you, shutting the closet and bathroom door, and picking out the perfect cups for the two of you, from your DC glass cup collection.

(Leo liked the Nightwing one since it was blue, and he always gave you the batgirl one, because you loved purple. He loved it when you would geek out and tell him how those heroes were the perfect couple... it reminded him of the both of you, and hoped that you gushed about him like that when he wasn't around.)

Leo brought the cups over, moving carefully with his eyes on the glass, gently placing one in your hand, and his own at your bedside.

"I"ll sleep right here, beside you." He thought out loud, examining the hardwood floor panels.

"Ah, Leo, you're not sleeping on the ground." You ordered, taking a long drink from your cup.

"Its no trouble," he assured, unlatching and taking off his belt and sword straps, placing them on your countertop. Leo sat down across from your bed, and began taking off his customized traditional ninja footwear, so all that remained were his pants and mask.

Why did this make you blush and get so flustered, the way he lifted those muscular arms over his head? Its not like he's taking anything revealing off...

"Modest like Leo... modest like Leo..." you whispered under your breath, recomposing your wandering thoughts.

He slowly walked up to you, lying you back and pulling your covers over you. Leo gently placed his hand against your cheek, staring deep into your eyes, as a soft smile rested over his lips.

He slowly nuzzled his nose beside yours, cherishing every small movement, before planting a soft kiss on your forehead. Then, he pulled away.

You felt your arms involuntarily reach out to him, taking his face into your hands. You both stared innocently into one another's eyes, before you made a bold move, planting your lips against his. You gently kissed Leo's lips, and he kissed you back, in the most respectful, admirable, and sentimental way possible.

Kissing Leo always felt so intimate and special... even as soft and innocent as it was. Leo made the tiny gestures special to you again.

"Leo, would you please... hold me?" You whispered, tightly closing your eyes and resting your forehead against his. "Please, sleep with me tonight."

"S-sleep with-" he panicked, turning vibrant red. For the first time that night, he realized that you were wearing blue pj's... and you looked gorgeous in them. Suddenly his heart began to pound through his chest, as his posture stiffened. "Sleep... together? Like... m-make love together?"

"Ah not like that!" You bashfully assured, unable to hide your shy grin. "Just... sleep together, at least for tonight."

He took a deep breath in, that sounded shaky, like the remenants of your kiss and closeness gave him the chills. The thought of you being together in the most close and intimate form made him overwhelmed, causing him to slightly tremble. Leo invoulintarily giggled, pecking a kiss against your nose, before he pulled his mask off.

"Alright." He grinned, suddenly much more eager and confident, leaning close to you as he set his mask on your night stand, switching off the light switch with a mere stretch.

Suddenly, it was dark again. But, a peaceful dark.

"Will you, Leo?" You muttered.

"Yes." He whispered, so softly and so intimately, gazing bravely into your eyes. "Yes, Y/N."

You beamed with joy, resituating to the side of your bed, curling up and watching Leo with an adorable, excited expression. Leo broke out a nervous, adorable chuckle, as he hesitantly sat down on your bed, realizing how massive he was on the size of it. He downed his tea like a shot, (wanting to finish it as fast as possible, so he could do this soft and intimate thing with you) and clearing his throat. Blushing, he slowly lied down on his back, slowly turning to his side that faced you, and hesitantly placing his hand over your shoulder, unsure of what was too much touch.

You giggled, sliding his hand on your waist, so you could sit up and pull the covers over him. "O-oh..." Leo murmured, stiffening up from his shyness.

This was very overwhelming to him, since he really liked taking things slow and was inexperienced to everything involving romance before you. But... you loved that. It was like everything was new to you again too. It endeared you beyond belief.

You lied on your side, examining his face one last time, as he examined yours, trailing your fingertip across his sharp jawline.

"I really love you..." he whispered, meaning every word.

"I really love you too, Leo." You softly agreed, as you continued to smile.

You and Leo talked quietly for a bit, sweet whispers between soulmates, as you scratched his shell and caressed his shoulders to help relieve his stress and tension. He would slowly drift off more and more, talking less and less, gifting you with tiny, soft, slow kisses, all over your face instead.

You both drifted off to sleep, and slept wonderfully side by side, as safe and sweet as can be, just the two of you.

And, as you found out in the morning, Leo was a total, clingy cuddler in his sleep. Throughout the night, he had nuzzled closer and closer, wrapping his arms around you and cradling you, until you were cozy against his body, sharing the same warmth.

💙 Sweet dreams.💙

#tmnt au #leonardo #bayverse #tmnt #leo #fictionalmenmistress #raphael #mikey #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt leo #tmnt donatello #tmnt 2016 #tmnt 2014 #tmnt fluff #fluff #tmnt imagines

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ptersparkers · 4 years

Text

boston

summary: as a recurring visitor from boston to the outer banks and one of kiara’s childhood friends, you get to know the pogue gang for the summer. oh, and it seems like jj has a thing for you.

warnings: mentions of alcohol and typos, probably.

a/n: i hope boston doesn’t throw people off because i used it as nickname (i think it’s cute). and im not even from boston. ALSO WTF THIS IS 4K WORDS.

add yourself to my taglist!

this is my gif, please credit if using!

You’re starting to think that coming to North Carolina for the summer wasn’t as fun as you remembered.

The water touched your fingertips as you leaned away from the boat, sticking your hand out to dip it into the cold water. It was too humid for you, for starters. You were used to the colder weather of Boston and often found yourself in long sleeves and jeans with boots with an extra sweater in your car. When it got warm, a pair of leggings and a t-shirt sufficed. North Carolina’s outer banks required swimming suits, shorts, and see-through shirts in order to avoid overheating. That wasn’t exactly your style.

Your parents insisted on having you do something with your summer instead of lounging around and hanging out with people you’d see on a daily basis during the school year. There wasn’t much to do here other than drink and help your relatives on the boat with their fishing company, and the idea of working for free didn’t seem so amazing as it did when you were a child. This was the first summer you’d be spending in the outer banks for the entirety. While you and your parents travelled here for a few weeks, you were the only one staying behind until it was time to go back for school.

In all honesty, you hadn’t recalled much about the place nor the people who lived here. You were aware of the “Kooks” and “Pogues,” and the unofficial war raging between the two groups. What you gathered was that your family lived civilly between the two, not quite in either territory. If you weren’t mistaken, you were welcomed on either side of the island without drawing too much attention to yourself.

Kiara, or Kie, who was your childhood best friend, was the only person you were even remotely close to, and that was overstating it. She resembled the summer camp friend who you barely spoke to until it was time to go away for summer camp. She lived in Figure Eight but hung with the Pogue crowd, from what you understood.

You recalled meeting her for the first time at age eleven, the first time your family had made it a tradition to travel to North Carolina. Your family had wandered to The Wreck, the restaurant her family owned, and became friends because you were the only child in the building and her father had forced her to escape from her shell of a bedroom and spend some time outside. Eleven-year-old you was ecstatic to find another person to spend your summers with, and thus a friendship was born.

“Y/N, you okay there?” your uncle had asked. Pulling yourself out of your daydreams, you whipped your head back and wiped your hand on your shorts.

“I’m fine, Uncle Jim. Just thinking, is all,” you replied. Uncle Jim laughed and pulled the rope from out of the water and asked you to open the ice bin for him to put the fresh fish he had caught.

“Special order for the Camerons,” he explained. “Ward offered to pay me double if we could have this in by this afternoon.”

“So that’s why you pulled me out of bed so early,” you teased. “Mom and dad just left and you’re already putting me to work.”

You closed the ice chest and watched as Uncle Jim put away the cage neatly in the back before wiping his hands on a white cloth towel.

“You know this job like the back of your hand. Might as well put you to good use.”

“Yeah,” you said, sighing. “It’s weird being here without them.”

“Good weird or bad weird?”

You shrugged. “It’s just different.”

“I know you wanted to spend your summer in Boston, but your Aunt Camille and I are happy you’re staying until September.” You smiled and gave him a side hug.

“Yeah, I’m happy to see you two. It’s just that I’m growing up and want to spend time with my friends before we all leave to college, you know?” Uncle Jim started to steer the boat top the main land and nodded.

“I hear ya. Mind dropping the fish off at the Cameron residence after I clean it up?”

You shook your head and watched as the island grew bigger as the boat approached the dock. When Uncle Jim docked the boat, you jumped out and told him you’d be getting a bite at The Wreck, hoping to see if Kiara happened to be working. The door chimed and you could see a few people seated at tables with she was preparing smoothies behind the juice bar.

“You always look like you’re thinking so deeply,” you said, taking a seat at the bar.

Kiara looked up and dropped the banana she was holding and wiped her hand on a towel, the biggest smile painting her lips as she ran behind the bar to embrace you. You laughed and reciprocated, giving her a gentle squeeze as she held you in a near lockdown.

“Two years, Y/N. It’s been two very long years,” she said.

“I wish I could’ve stayed longer last summer,” you said. “My grandpa called us to say my grandma had broken her hip and we flew out the next morning.”

“Is she okay?” she asked.

You nodded. “I think he was just scared but it was probably for the best that we went back home.”

“So I hear you’ll be here for the whole summer, right? I heard our dads talking last night.”

“I can’t tell whether I’m excited about that or not. Happy to be here with you but not happy about working on a fishing boat. You know how sensitive my stomach is.” Kiara laughed and walked back behind the bar, resuming making the smoothie she had halted to welcome you.

“Don’t I know it. Well, when you and I aren’t working we can hang out and I can introduce you to my friends,” she said. “I think you’d really like them.”

“God, I hope so. I’m gonna need friends if I’m going to be here for three months.”

“John B’s kind of like our ring leader,” she explained before turning the blender on. She poured the drink and continued. “He’s kind of like you. A little mischievous but he’s keen for leadership. Pope’s the smart aleck. He knows everything about anything and overthinks when we do something spontaneous.” Kiara gave you a look.

“That’s because my parents were always here!” you said in mock defense, raising your hands.

Kiara laughed. “Then there’s Sarah, who you met before. She’s cool though, not like her Kook friends. We weren’t friends before you left. Then there’s JJ. He’s kind of all over the place and there’s not really a way I can describe him. You just have to experience him for yourself.”

“As long as I have a fun summer without getting in trouble, I think I’ll be fine,” you said.

“Smoothie?” Kiara asked. You nodded and took out your wallet, but she shook her head.

“I’m pretty sure my dad would bite my head off if you paid for anything here,” she said. “Your mom did help advertise for us.”

“How about a tip,” you said, putting a five dollar bill into a glass jar. Kiara rolled her eyes but grinned.

“The Pogues and I are gonna hang out on Pope’s boat, if you wanna come. We’re just gonna hang out and eat, probably.”

“I’ll have to ask my uncle but I’m sure he’ll be fine with it,” you said, taking a sip of your smoothie.

“It really was nice getting to see you again,” Kiara said. “I think you’re probably my only other girl friend, aside from Sarah. God knows a girl needs her time away from testosterone.”

“I’m gonna be at Sarah’s later this afternoon to drop off some fish. I think her dad paid a lot of money for it, and I will never understand that.”

She laughed. “Well with that kind of money, I guess you wouldn’t need to think twice about paying for fish.”

You hopped off of the seat and waved goodbye before heading home.

***

When the sky turned into a shade of deep orange, you double checked to see that your phone was fully charged before slipping on your shoes and grabbing a blanket plus the bag of snacks you had purchased earlier that day. You waved at Uncle Jim and Aunt Camille, promising them you’d be safe with Kiara before you locked the front door and slipped the keys into your bag.

From your recollection, Pope’s boat was fairly large and Kiara told you it would have lights strung up so it wouldn’t be too hard to miss. The dock was quiet with the exception of fireflies buzzing in the air and the faint sound of laughter in the distance.

You could see a group of boys and Kiara lounging around with beer in their hands and you were unsure of how to approach them. Luckily, Kiara saw you in the corner of her eye and rushed down to greet you.

“Thank God you’re here,” she said. “Boys are annoying and I need some company. Here, let me get your bag.”

You handed her the bag and climbed onto the boat, aware of three pairs of eyes following you. Suddenly feeling a little self conscious about yourself, you waved awkwardly at the three boys.

“Don’t be weird, you guys,” Kiara said, rolling her eyes. “That’s Pope. Brains of our operation. You two are more alike, I think.”

“Nice to meet you,” he said, tipping his hat at you.

“That’s John B,” she said as you waved at him. “He’s kinda of like you when you start talking about something you’re passionate about.” You began to blush at how Kiara was introducing you to her friends.

“Any friend of Kiaras is a friend to us,” he said, grinning.

“And that’s JJ,” she said, pointing at the blonde who was too busy looking at you to speak. “He’s, well, JJ.”

He scoffed. “These two get great introductions and I get ‘that’s JJ’?” he asked, using his fingers as faux quotation marks. Kiara shrugged.

“I happen to think I’m great, thank you very much,” he said sarcastically before winking at you. You gave him a soft grin and sat next to her, unfolding the blanket and placing yourself on it.

“And this is Y/N Y/L/N, probably the smartest one out of the five of us. She’s from Boston and comes here every summer with her parents.”

“It’s usually for a week or two to visit my aunt and uncle but this time I’m spending the entire summer here,” you explained.

“Why’s that?” asked Pope.

“My parents thought it would be good to not spend my time indoors and God knows my uncle will put me to work.”

“She’s Jim’s niece,” Kiara said.

John B’s eyes lit up. “Jim’s niece! That’s right, I remember he said you were coming to work for him this summer. He’s such a legend. How he and Camille live between us and the Kooks is beyond me. Love that guy.”

You beamed, opening a bag of popcorn. “He’s pretty great, isn’t he?”

“So how’d you and Kiara meet?” JJ asked.

“We were the only kids in The Wreck when it first opened,” she said. “Dad forced me to go outside and Y/N’s parents forced her to do the same and we just clicked.”

“So what’s Boston like?” John B asked.

“Jesus, one question at a time,” Kiara said, rolling her eyes.

“Cold, for the most part. I live on the edge of the city so I’m between suburban area and the metropolitan. It’s kind of the best of both worlds.”

“Outer banks is a wake up call,” Pope joked.

“It’s really different than what I’m used to, but this is my sixth summer out here,” you said. “And this time I came prepared with the right clothes.”

Kiara bursted out laughing. “When we were twelve, she insisted on bringing sweaters and jeans because that’s all she owned. For two weeks straight she had to borrow my clothes.” The boys chuckled.

“I’m not all that used to wearing shorts,” you said, gesturing to your clothes. “But I guess I like to lounge around in oversized shirts, so it’s a win-win.”

“Beer?” JJ asked, holding a bottle. You shook your head.

“Nah, I’m good. But thank you for offering.” He quirked his eyebrow but put it back in the cooler.

“Damn, I’ve never been off of this damn island,” said John B. “Let alone a big city.”

“It’s great, honestly,” you began, “I feel like I’m unimportant and that leaves me with so much room to grow. Nobody has any real expectations from me because I’m just another stranger. And I’m starting to sound like a cliche.”

JJ chuckled and shook his head. “Not a cliche. It’s nice to get to know someone who’s not from here.”

“God knows the Kooks aren’t welcoming,” said Pope. “But never mind them.”

“Sarah’s not coming,” Kiara said, looking up from her phone. “Said she’s too tired to make the ‘treacherous’ walk.”

“Bummer,” you said, pouting. “I haven’t seen her in so long. She wasn’t at the house when I went earlier.”

“I’m sure you’ll see her soon,” said Kiara.

“Oh goodness,” you said, shivering. “I didn’t think it would be cold tonight.” You rubbed your upper arms with your palms and tried to move to feel some friction.

“Take my jacket,” JJ said, reaching behind him to grab his discarded windbreaker.

“Thanks,” you said softly, a little confused that a stranger would let you wear his jacket.

“Damn, JJ. You’ve got broad shoulders,” John B joked, looking at how big the jacket was compared to you.

“It’s two sizes bigger than I am,” JJ said said, taking a swig of his beer.

“It’s perfect,” you said, looking between JJ and John B. “Thanks, JJ.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said. You looked away to speak to Kiara and didn’t notice JJ checking you out with the jacket you had put on.

“So you think Y/N’s attractive,” Pope said, leaning in and whispering.

“Pfft, what?” JJ asked, shaking his head.

“C’mon, dude. It’s just a matter of time before you and her, you know,” he said, making a crude gesture before laughing. JJ shoved him and laughed along.

“It’s not like that,” he said. Pope raised his eyebrow.

“Oh?”

“It’s not like that either! Jeez, Pope.”

“Whatever you say, man,” said Pope, leaning back and opening another bottle of beer.

An hour had flown by and you yawned, the entire group silently understanding that it was probably too late to stay up. Pope had left ten minutes earlier after his dad had called and promised to see the rest of you tomorrow.

“This was fun,” you said to Kiara, John B, and JJ. “I really like you guys.”

“But I’m the best,” said Kiara, striking a pose that made you laugh.

“And no one’s taking that title away from you,” you replied. You folded the blanket and began to walk off of the boat with JJ offering his hand for you to step down. You took it and noticed how unusually soft they were. You started to walk back to your house before abruptly turning around.

“Oh, JJ! Wait, let me give you your jacket back,” you said, dropping the bag you were carrying. JJ laughed and shook his head.

“Keep it for tonight, Boston. It’ll give me a reason to see you tomorrow,” JJ said. You grinned at the nickname.

“Okay,” you said, picking up the bag you dropped. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” JJ smiled. You could grow to like seeing his smile.

He winked. “See you tomorrow, Boston.”

***

As the weeks went by, you starting to feel disappointed whenever you thought about going back to Boston, which meant leaving your new friends behind. All the adventures you had raked up were memorable ones and it would feel weird not seeing the four rambunctious teens nearly every day.

It was a hot Thursday morning when you sat on the dock. Uncle Jim had given you the rest of the day off after helping him load his cargo, offering to make the rounds that afternoon if you were willing to go to the grocery store to pick up ingredients for that night’s dinner.

You couldn’t help but think about JJ and all the times you two had been near one another. Kiara had made an innocuous comment the prior night before you left her house about how he was much gentler when he was around you and didn’t seem to be as loud as he was when you were there. JJ, she said, was always so outspoken but whenever you were near, it was like he was censoring himself.

You were sure Kiara didn’t mean anything bad by it, but you weren’t really sure how to interpret what she said. You and JJ, aside from Kiara, had hung out the most since you met. You two spent the afternoon together at The Wreck the day after you met him, partially to give him his jacket back and partially waiting for Kiara’s shift to be over. You could feel yourself letting loose and confessed to feeling extremely nervous and self-conscious about meeting Kiara’s friends. JJ reassured you that he (and the others in the gang, of course) really liked you.

He would accompany you home and save you a seat next to him. He’d hold your bag and wait for you if the gang was running ahead. JJ would volunteer to come get you if you weren’t answering your phone and he’d make trips to visit you while you were helping Uncle Jim at work.

If you were being honest, you would be lying to yourself if you said you hadn’t developed feelings for him. It was minor and fleeting, but it was there. The blonde made you blush without having to try too hard and you were sure Kiara knew, but she never said anything. JJ was attentive to you and let you speak when you felt your voice be drowned by someone else.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when you heard running footsteps on the dock, only to turn around and see JJ running towards you. He peeled his shirt off and jumped past you and landed in the water, splashing you in the process.

“JJ, what the hell!” you yelled as he came up for air. He shook his head and wiped his face, grinning at your surprised reaction.

“What a morning, huh?” he said, swimming closer to you. Your legs dangled in the water and he came up, pushing his body upwards to let his arms rest on your lap. “You thinking too hard again, Boston?”

Boston. There was that nickname again. You think you hid your blush pretty well.

“You know I’m always thinking,” you replied.

“Someday I’m gonna get inside your head and know everything you think about when you disappear,” he said. “I’m sure you have a lot of good stories to tell.”

“Maybe so,” you teased. “I was just thinking about how I have a month and a half left before going back home.”

“Don’t think about that,” he said, pouting slightly. “I’ll - we’ll - miss you tons. It won’t be the same until you come back.”

You laughed. “I wish I could bring you guys back with me. I don’t have that many friends I consider close.”

“And you consider us your close friends?”

“I might even say my best friends,” you said with a smile.

“Well, well, well. I’m honored to hear that, Boston. Truly.”

“Why’d you jump into the water, anyway?” you asked.

He shrugged. “It’s a hot morning and the sun is shining. Plus, I got to scare you, which was pretty priceless.” You shoved him back into the water and laughed as he came up with a feigned surprised expression.

“Oh, come on! It was hilarious.”

“You’re so mean to me, JJ,” you said, sticking your tongue out.

“Why don’t you join me? The water’s cool and it’s hot out.”

“I think I’m good from where I’m sitting,” you said. JJ swam closer and caressed your legs before trailing his fingers to your lap, resting his chin on your knee.

“Please?”

It was times like this when you were grateful you developed a habit of putting a swimsuit underneath your clothing. You stood up from your spot and took off your shirt and shorts, slowly dipping in the water beside him.

“Okay, you’re right,” you confessed. “Very refreshing.”

JJ swam closer to you and smiled, finding your hand and pulling it above the water to give it a kiss.

“I’m never wrong, Boston.”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, keep telling yourself that.”

JJ was quiet for a moment. “You’re so innocent.”

You raised your eyebrow. “Oh? How so?”

“I don’t know. You have a purity to you. Maybe it’s Boston or maybe it’s just that you’re better than us and the Kooks combined.”

“Well, I’m definitely better than the Kooks,” you said. JJ chuckled. He pulled you closer to him to the point where your chests were almost touching.

“I just mean that I don’t know how to act when I’m around you. Usually I’m reckless and an idiot, but I’m not that way when you’re around.”

You frowned. “I don’t ever want you to be anyone but yourself around me, JJ.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think it’s that. I think you pull this calmness out of me. I don’t think I’m not being myself when you’re around. I just think that I’m much more of a person than ‘reckless’ JJ who gets into too much trouble.

“What I’m trying to say is,” he began with a deep breath, “I like you. As in, more than a friend. John B and Pope have been teasing me about it all summer but I never took it seriously until you talked that Kook’s ear off about not being a racist and sexist piece of shit.” You took a moment to recall and laugh at the memory. “There’s never a moment where I don’t want to be with you or tell you things. I’ve never felt this way with anyone before, honestly.”

“JJ,” you said softly, your hand giving his bicep a squeeze in reassurance. “You know, I’ve been overthinking these past few weeks. Last night, Kie said something about how you were so aware when I’m around and how you’re less reckless and I didn’t know what to make of it.”

“I just,” said JJ, “I like you a lot. More than I thought I did.”

You looked into his gaze and his arm wrapped itself around your waist, pulling you closer so your chests were touching. The sound of the waves was the only noise in the vicinity and the sun made JJ’s eyes look more impeccable than they already were. His lips were plump and you noticed he had stolen a glance down to yours, squeezing the small of your back as if to ask for silent permission. You inched your way closer and he followed suit until his lips had landed gracefully on yours as if it had belonged there all along.

His skin was hot under the sun and the water around you felt like it moved to push you two closer together. JJ let this kiss be a simple one, unlike the other girls he had been with before. His eyes remained closed until he pulled away and looked to see you in your entirety. You did nothing but smile and bite your lip, reaching out to kiss him once more.

“I like you too,” you said. “And I like kissing you.” JJ laughed and leaned in to kiss you a third time.

“You’re real cute, Boston,” he replied.

“Do you think we could go and get some sandwiches from The Wreck? All this swimming and all this kissing has me starved.” You shared a laugh before pushing yourselves out of the water and hoped the sun was hot enough dry you both before you reached the restaurant.

You were already counting down the days you would be coming back to the outer banks.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank blurbs #jj maybank imagines #jj x reader #obx #obx x reader #outer banks #my writing #boston

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tsarisfanfiction · 3 years

Note

I think I drank too much - with ma boi John Tracy, Eye in the Sky?

(I hope you wrestle uni into submssion)

A Bad First Impression

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Gen Genre: Family/Friendship Characters: Scott, John, Penelope

Brain is in default Scott mode (when is it not?), so more Scott than John, but it is John saying the line, so that counts, right? Haven’t proof read this or anything, but alcohol+John gave me one idea straight away, so here we go!

4am so the other prompt currently sitting in my inbox will have to wait until post-sleep (and probably post-more uni work), but feel free to send more in!

(Uni is... not going down without a fight but I have got my lecturers on my side so it’s not quite as terrifying as it was the other day. Still got a heck of a lot of work to do, but hopefully it’s survivable now.)

Lightheaded/Fainting Prompts (I know it says ‘starters’ but I figure as long as the line’s in there somewhere it counts). Or honestly any other prompt games I’ve reblogged are fine, too, just make sure to tell me which one it’s from!)

Scott glowered down at his phone, where his message was stubbornly remaining as sent. Ideally, he wanted a reply, but it had been five minutes and it still wasn’t even showing as read.

People were sending him disapproving looks, no doubt seeing a stranger with a backpack lurking outside a door and drawing their own conclusions the longer he remained slouched against the wall. Apparently even in England, people didn’t take too kindly to loitering, and Scott would appreciate it if his brother would hurry up and let him in.

Maybe for some people, five minutes was too soon to be getting cranky, let alone worried, and any of his other brothers, in any other situation, Scott wouldn’t expect an instantaneous reply, but it was John, at midnight. He should be wired into whatever technology he was playing and receiving messages instantly - especially as Scott should be expected.

The journey had been a long one, jet lag was hammering hard, and he just wanted to greet his brother, catch up for a bit, and then crash out on the couch. It had been too long since he’d last seen him - why John had decided to go to college in England, Scott had no idea.

Seven minutes, and still no answer. No little icon assuring him John had even seen it, even though John had known exactly what flight he was on and had been the one to tell Scott how long the taxi would take from the airport. Scott had fully expected his younger brother to open the door just as the taxi pulled to a halt.

The fact that he was still standing outside, seven minutes later - and midnight in Oxford was not warm - had Scott one part annoyed to three parts worried.

The looks were getting dirtier. He was surprised no-one had confronted him yet, and hoped that didn’t mean they’d decided against talking and skipped straight to calling the police.

“C’mon, John,” he muttered. “What’s taking you so long?”

Looking up from his phone again - nine minutes - he caught sight of a pair staggering their way in his direction. One was ginger, and he straightened, more than a little disbelieving when his younger brother staggered right past him without looking and pawed at the door ineffectually.

“Honestly, John,” the girl he was with - petite, blond, and in high heels that made Scott’s feet ache just to look at (his younger brothers didn’t know about his time in high heels and it was staying that way) - sighed, although the giggle that followed it ruined whatever gravitas she was trying to exude.

There were many things wrong with the sight, from John being not inside, to John looking like he’d been at a nightclub, to John apparently bringing a girl home, but the thoughts all temporarily abandoned his head as John swayed just a little bit more.

“I think I drank too much,” his brother commented, in that sort of detached fashion Scott recognised from his own nightclub experiences, and ignoring the girl, he lunged forward just in time to catch John as he crumpled.

This wasn’t the greeting he’d been expecting.

Nor was the stiletto kick to his chest, winding him and almost making him drop his brother. It was fortunate his first instinct was always to hold on tighter, otherwise John would probably have just gained a concussion to go with the hell of a hangover he was going to be facing in a few hours.

“What do you think you’re doing?” the girl demanded, drawing herself up to her full height - and even in those dagger stilettos, still failing to reach Scott’s chin. “Unhand him at once, or I’ll call the police.”

Scott was tired, grumpy, and had no patience for irritating girls trying to get in with his not interested younger brother. He straightened, hefting John into his arms - he might be tall, but John had never been a challenge to lift on the rare occasion Scott had carried him - and made a show of looking down at the small female.

“And I suppose you were planning on carrying him inside?” he challenged, shifting John’s weight until he could slip two fingers into his pocket and extract his door key.

John always kept his key in the same pocket. Scott was glad that hadn’t changed.

“And now you’re trespassing,” she huffed as he fumbled the door open. “No-one invited you in. Leave, before I call the police.”

“Actually, I was invited,” Scott snapped, stepping through the door. “You, on the other hand, are not welcome. Go home.”

He kicked the door shut with his heel, knowing Grandma - and probably John, in the morning - would be furious with him for leaving her outside by herself at midnight, but not finding it in himself to care right then.

The apartment wasn’t large, just a kitchen with a sofa and a door that Scott determined had to lead to the bedroom and en suite, which meant he heard the front door open again as he shouldered his way into the bedroom.

“Who are you?” the girl demanded. Scott ignored her as he settled his brother on the bed - planets and stars embellishing the otherwise plain navy comforter. “Look at me when I’m talking to you!”

Scott pulled his brother’s sneakers off and set them down on the floor, making a mental note to find where John kept his shoes and put them away properly before his occasionally-clumsy brother tripped over them later.

“Why are you in his apartment?” he asked, kicking off his own shoes and letting his backpack fall onto the floor before pulling himself up onto the bed. John could sleep in his clothes just fine, but that coat and jumper had to come off before he overheated.

“Are you stripping him?” she shrieked. “That’s it; I’m calling the police.”

...Okay, Scott could see why it might look bad if she didn’t know who he was.

“Look, miss,” he started.

“Your ladyship,” she interrupted.

“Uh, what?”

“It’s your ladyship,” she said. “Not miss. I am Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward, and I insist you tell me who you are and why you’re manhandling my friend.”

“John has friends?” John did intellectual peers, but he’d never cared for friends, mostly because he found it tiring when people couldn’t keep up with him - or tried to force him into socialising, which Scott was starting to suspect this girl, Lady, whatever, had done tonight. His friends were computers.

“Of course he does, you pervert,” she snapped back. “Now answer my questions, and if I don’t like the answers, I’m calling the police.”

“Perv-” Scott interrupted himself with a sigh. “I take it John didn’t bother to tell you I was coming to visit for the week?”

“Your name,” she insisted, and he rolled his eyes.

“Scott Tracy. I’m his brother, so if you could stop the ridiculous accusations that would be great, thank you very much.”

“You don’t look related.”

Oh, for-

“You should see the rest of them.” John shifted against his chest in a quickly-aborted attempt to sit up. Scott tightened his grip. “Scott, Lady P. You won’t get rid of her. Trust me. Lady P., my big brother, Scott. You won’t get rid of him. Trust me.”

“John-”

“So stop arguing and let me sleep. My head kills. Penny, why did you let me drink so much?”

“I was curious what you’d be like drunk,” she answered, completely unapologetic. “You didn’t tell me your brother was coming.” She paused. “Why didn’t you tell me when I came to get you earlier?”

“You’d have accused me of lying to get out of going,” John muttered. “Sorry, Scott. Thought I’d be back before you turned up. Wasn’t expecting to drink so much...” He trailed off with a yawn, and Scott helped him lie back down.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said - not strictly true, but as far as reunions went it was already terrible. He had no intentions of worsening it with an argument. “Get some sleep. I’ll find you something for the hangover in the morning.”

John was asleep again before he’d finished talking, and with a fond smile, Scott slipped off the bed and pulled the covers loosely over him.

Then, he eyed the blonde in front of him. John didn’t like socialising, and yet she’d dragged him out regardless - and apparently never took no for an answer.

Scott did not like the implications of that.

“We need to talk,” he said, quietly enough not to wake John, but seriously nonetheless. Blue eyes flicked from him to John and then back again.

“Yes,” she agreed. “I suppose we do.”

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #scott tracy #john tracy #lady penelope creighton-ward #thunderfluff #drabbles #such-a-random-rambler #a bad first impression

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hansolmates · 4 years

Text

jjk; angel’s trumpet [04]

summary; one second, your life is flashing before your eyes and the next, you’re transported into a world exactly like your own. but the jungkook you meet in this world isn’t a renowned singer or your former almost-lover, in fact he has no clue who you are and why you know him so well. as you work to find your way home lost and confused, you conclude that you’re either dead or in the middle of the most wicked drug trip of your life. pairing; idol!jk x reader (f), alternatively film producer!jk x reader genre/warnings; fluff, angst, supernatural, idol!au, non-idol!au, alternate universes, themes of fate, language, alcohol consumption, mentions of smut in future chapters w.c; 5k a/n; lot of angst in this one!! if your heart aches i urge u to do what i do and hug some stuffies (my current fav stuffie is my bt21baby cooky) i hope u enjoy more of w1!jk, ty for all the love pls share and like if you enjoy!

[03] [04] [05] -> masterpost

W1.

Jungkook is strongly advised not to visit you.

Jungkook has been strongly advised over the past two weeks not to visit you, despite the fact that visitors have been allowed since two days ago considering the fact that you are confirmed comatose.

A coma. You’re in a coma. It’s weird how much the notion echoes in Jungkook’s thoughts, constantly nudging the back of his mind like a petulant child wanting an out. He’s never met anyone who’s been in a coma before, the condition only reserved for late night melodramas and medical movies.

And in all of those shows, the person bedridden until further notice always looks like a wreck. He feels like ripping his heart out at the thought of you with tubes and liquids going in and out of your body, face ashen and devoid of any thought other than pain. He needed to see you, to support you even if you didn’t know.

After days of persistence and Namjoon’s inability to say no to Jungkook, Namjoon agreed to let Jungkook swing by the hospital after his solo recordings. He couldn’t get there fast enough, knowing Namjoon is already there and probably taking care of you.

He takes slow steps to your room, as if trudging through a sea of molasses. Careful to not let his combat boots strike the linoleum, he catches the tail end of a conversation. Your room is large enough for two patients, but so far you’re the only one checked in. There are three other people in your room, concealed by a thin curtain revealing them as shadows. Jungkook lingers behind, staring intently at the shadow of your figure laying in bed.

“How inhiberated was your friend the night of the incident?” Jungkook’s presuming it’s your nurse, going over protocol.

The second voice is Sehlyung, the bubbly coordinator who immediately befriended you the week you got hired. Her voice is no longer chipper, but strained and weak, as if she’s been crying for days.

“I don’t know exactly how much,” she sniffs, “but it was a lot. She had a rough day, I—I just wanted to help her forget a little,” her soft cries reverberate throughout the white-walled room. “I should’ve, I should’ve helped her upstairs. I knew how messed up she was and I left her alone!”

Jungkook’s fists clench beneath his hoodie, familiar moisture creeping into his eyes.

Sehlyung’s words felt like a jab to his form, already aching at the wounds in his own heart. It isn’t the answer the nurse wants, but it seems like the poor woman has been holding in a lot of pent up stress. Namjoon’s trying to placate her, and Jungkook can see the way he’s patting your friend’s shoulder in a gesture of comfort. “No one’s blaming you, so please don’t blame yourself,” Namjoon’s words are like a balm to the proverbial wound, “Nurse, is it possible to project how long it’ll take until she wakes up?”

“Hard to say,” your nurse replies, and has the decency to sound sad, “it could be weeks, or even months. Judging by her high amount of brain activity however, she’s predicted to awake with very minimal brain damage.”

Brain damage?

“Eventually her insurance will run out however, the longer we need to sustain her will depend on how much her cosigner—”

“Money will not be an issue,” Namjoon cuts in smoothly, almost sounding insulted that the nurse would even bring up such a thing. “We can’t put a price on our precious friend’s life.”

As much as Namjoon’s words alleviated Jungkook’s initial anxieties, the question still stands. Will you come out of this the same person you left? How long will that take, weeks, months, years? He’s extensively Googled before this, reading way too many WebMD articles that he probably shouldn’t have, effectively skewing his perception on the matter.

He fiddles with his hands in the kangaroo pocket of his sweater, clammy from the heat. You’re suffering, and just like Sehlyung, he’s trying very hard not to blame himself.

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

W2.

Angel’s Trumpet Scientific Name: Brugmansia Order and Family: Polimonailes and Solanaceae Summary: A higher order of nightshade, the Angel’s Trumpet is a show-stopping pendulous flower that hangs like bells. In myth, they were prized as chimes holding magical properties. In modern use, Angel's Trumpets have occasionally been used to create recreational drugs, but the risk of overdose is so high that these uses often have deadly consequences.

So you’re either dead or in the middle of the most wicked drug trip of your life.

You push away from your MacBook, rolling over to your bed to mull. It’s near two in the morning, and you’ve channeled both your love for Buzzfeed Unsolved and your poster making skills in order to construct The Timeline.

Using your somewhat solid memory from the past two weeks and Hoseok’s own timeline from his daycare shift, you spent the entire night plotting as to why you’re in W2 and how you can leave.

Your plan of action is minimal, definitively so because there are no leads other than Sehlyung’s wine dealer, and Jungkook.

Something must’ve been in the angel’s wine, something dangerous. You remember the sky flickering that night, wondering if you were hallucinating or very drunk. Scientifically speaking however, if you really are under the influence of this flower, the hallucinogens should’ve left your body by now.

Unless it’s magic that brought you to this world. As absurd as it is, the notion of magic gets easier and easier to cite as the days go on.

And if it is some form of magic, something tells you that Jungkook has something to do with it. But why?

One: Jungkook’s birth flower, you muse. You think back to how vivid the ink appeared on Jungkook’s skin, how precious the design meant to him. It made you think back to your Jungkook, who couldn’t stop fidgeting as he was so excited to get some serious ink done when visiting a friend in Jeju island. How bright his face glowed after it healed and how proud he was to show it off.

Two: The last thing Jungkook said to you. How coincidental must it be for him to specifically cite your relationship could work in “another world”?

You’re definitely overheating your brain at this point, and you trudge yourself out of bed to make something to eat. If you were going to spiral, you were going to spiral with a full stomach.

The pot as the water starts to boil, crackling and bubbling angrily because you are impatient and cranked up the heat to high. An open ramen block sits on the counter, ready to be softened. Suddenly, the door unclicks and you point your fork at the door. Panic fills you, wondering who could be visiting at this hour.

“Home sweet home!” Taehyung cries, swinging the door open so hard that it reverbs and hits him in the forehead. However he is unfettered, flashing you a toothy smile as he dumps his luggage at his feet. “Care to open another ramen packet for me, roomie?”

You lower your fork, remembering that Taehyung’s due to come back sometime this week. “Welcome back,” you exhale, forcing a smile as you watch Taehyung arrange his mess in a corner, “did you have a good trip?”

“Yeah, Busan’s nice,” he replies easily, dumping his body on the couch. He looks the same, shaggy brown-black hair and mischievous chocolate eyes. He still has an affinity for earth tones and long coats that make his shoulders look good. Despite the fact that you always expect that their counterparts will look alike, it baffles you how easy it is to forget you’re not in your world. “What about you? Why’re up so late?”

“My thesis was bugging me,” you lie easily, “I’m gonna work on it in the library tomorrow.”

“Ah, is that why you’ve been ignoring Jimin’s texts?”

You stop swirling the noodles in your pot, looking up from your spot at the counter. “He told you?”

Truth be told, you haven’t been exactly comfortable conversing with Jimin. You feel a little bad if your alternate self had a thing for the young man, but you know in your heart you definitely did not hold any romantic or sexual attraction towards him.

“Duh. You’ve hurt his heart.”

You scoff, dividing the pale yellow noodles and soup between two bowls. “Jimin’s a big baby, that’s why.”

“C’mon, you love that big baby,” Taehyung jests, “have lunch with us tomorrow during his break,” his eyes are glued to the bowls in your hands, as you carefully walk over to place them on the coffee table. Like an eager puppy, he scrambles off the couch and onto the floor, joining you in your meal.

You bite back a sigh, stuffing your face with hot noodles to give yourself some time. It still grossed you out that you supposedly hooked up with Jimin on the regular, but at the possibility that you were potentially messing up your alternate universes’ life still held you back for telling Jimin to kindly stop sending dick pics.

“If you pick me up from the library tomorrow I’ll come,” you concede, “just don’t make it weird, okay? I’ve had a hard week.”

“Done,” and that became that.

Taehyung and you cite the silence as being exhausted from today’s events, and you two quickly scarfed down your meal and headed off to bed. Another day gone, and another day longer it takes for you to return to your world.

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

“Your life’s totally an anime movie,”

As much as you love Hoseok’s support, the fact that he’s so excited is a little unnerving.

“You’re like an alien! Or Phil of the Future who’s trying to get back to his timeline!”

“Hoseok…”

“Right, right. Sorry. But think about it,” he jabs a finger in your notebook, citing the pastel pink sticky note where it’s crossed out. “If you fall in love with W2 Jungkook like W1 Jungkook implied, it’ll fulfill your prophecy and you can go back home! And then when you go back home, W1 Jungkook will realize he was being a pussy and then grovel at your knees for forgiveness and—”

“Please stop,” your head is throbbing. The fact that you’re talking about two Jungkooks is terrifying, because it was hard enough for you to handle one Jungkook on their own. “Even so, what’s to say that Jungkook and I really aren’t meant to be? It’s not like W1 Jungkook was wrong. He has a busy life and I know a romantic relationship could add extra stress on him.”

A little part of you felt good to tell another person about your struggles between Jungkook and yours’ unnamed relationship. Of course, you had to catch yourself sometimes when you delve a little too much. Hoseok after all, doesn’t know either Jungkook. You also forget yourself, often muttering a variant of “shut up Hobi you absolute Fruit Loop” when Hoseok gets too giddy. The Hoesok next to you is still just as new of a friend, not this co-worker you’ve spent the better half of two years with.

But back to his theory, while there was no symbolic chime that signaled the start, it grew into a slow, easy love, at least for you. As your and Jungkook’s feelings grew, the more your panic bubbled to the surface. Was it a risk you were both willing to take? Evidently not, from the way Jungkook had slammed the door in your face.

Another reason why you’re hesitant to test the falling in love theory—it’s too easy to fall in love with Jungkook all over again. It scares you. Without his music career in the way, what’s stopping you?

Hoseok squeezes your hand at the way you stare so intently into your timeline, sending you a tender smile, “Don’t think so hard. Even so, a little date won’t hurt, right?” he whispers, picking up his things, “text me if anything happens. My kids are coming soon.”

You give him a halfhearted wave, leaving him to his shift at the daycare. You were so engrossed with the influx of information yesterday that you failed to ask Jungkook for his phone number. This meant that you had to do some intense social media stalking in order to find him. If he’s anything like W1 Jungkook, you’re going to have a hard time finding any updates from him.

“Excuse me? Professor?”

Tilting your head from your notepad, you notice an undergrad had replaced the seat that Hoseok previously occupied. She’s a pretty thing, with long raven black hair and almond shaped eyes. You suddenly feel very ratty and underdressed as a professor, the leggings and oversized sweater with a questionable stain really giving off baked-potato vibes.

“Do… yeon?” you say, remembering her from an email thread you sent a while ago.

She beams, “Yeah! I’m so glad I found you. I know Professor Kim said he’d be absorbing your classes since you’re on leave, but I really need help with my final draft. Professor Kim tried to help me and…”

“Let me guess,” you smirk, “his thoughts were way too convoluted and you need me to get straight to the point.”

Doyeon snaps her fingers, “Exactly!”

While apprehensive with medical knowledge, you can still find confidence in your essay grading skills. You spend the next half hour looking over Doyeon’s paper, pointing out how things she could improve on or articles she could cite. Soon enough, Doyeon texted two other members for her study group, saying that it’s a once-in-a-semester-offer to get some time with you.

And you’re baffled at how easy it is to fall into this professor role. It makes you believe that if you really wanted to, being a professor would also be a perfect job for you. The students are buzzing around your table, excitedly whispering how happy they are to work with you after so long, and that they miss the way you teach your lectures. For two blissful hours, you forget your circumstance and keep your focus entirely on your students.

A loud, obnoxious cough breaks you and your students out of their work bubble. Taehyung is tapping his Valentino loafers impatiently, holding a very large back of what seemed to be you and Jimin’s lunch.

“Sorry kiddos,” Taehyung sing songs, already stuffing your work stuff in your bag, “she promised to go out and have lunch with mature adults.”

“We’re literally like, a couple years younger than you,” Chan scrunches his face, sending you a pleading look.

“Sorry Chan, I did say I was going to have lunch,” you concede, “but please email me if you have any more questions. Otherwise, you’re right on track!”

You wave at the thankful students happily, and Taehyung literally has to drag you out by the arm and shove him into his Uber before you could relent.

“Damn girl,” Taehyung chuckles, relieved to finally get you out of the library, “you didn’t hear me the first three times I was calling you. Chan looked like he was about to rip my head off!”

You shrug lightly, “What can I say, the time really flew with them.”

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

What a coincidence, you’re in the same place he is, again. More specifically, his new workplace.

How is it possible that you have so many handsome friends? Jungkook is baffled by the way Park Jimin and the dark-haired friend feed you fries like you’re their precious daughter. In response, you scrunch up your nose and push them off, instead deciding to shove five fries in your mouth all at once.

As much as he wanted to ask you out since you admired his tattoos yesterday, he can’t find it in him to go up and interrupt your lunch. Besides, he has work and he doesn’t want to complicate things if Jimin finds out he was the one responsible for nearly running you over the other day.

If he walks fast enough, he can avoid any awkward interaction and make it to his office so he can give the day’s full report—

“Jungkook! Get your cute butt over here and meet my friends!”

Crap.

Trying not to glare daggers at his new co-worker, he places a thin smile on his face as he moves to your table in the corner of the cafeteria. He lets Jimin give the whole spiel on how he hired him, and Jungkook decides to hover awkwardly while the rest of you are sitting. The sun filters its way through the windows and bleeds brightly onto your body, making his throat dry and constrict in awe. Your expression is definitely more positive since that time at the library, and he wonders what he has to do to reach that level of contentment you’re sporting.

“Guys, this is Jungkook. I just hired him last week. He’s like my son.”

“Ewh,” the dark haired guy upturns his nose. “But hi, I’m Taehyung.”

While Jimin goes into detail about how amazing he found his work, he can’t help but notice the fond smile that melts upon your face as you listen intently to Jimin. Jungkook wants to archive that expression on your face and save it to memory, the way you look so pretty with your chin nestled in your hand, turning your head slightly to gaze at him with a look of what—pride? Affection?

“You sound like quite the artist,” you muse, “I would love to see some of your work if Jimin says it’s that good.”

He rubs his head bashfully, clutching the camera hanging on his chest like an anchor. “Oh no, I’m just starting out,” he replies shyly, although he would be lying if he said he didn’t crave the attention you were bestowing on him.

“He’s actually going out to Dongdaemun to get some stuff done for his portfolio,” Jimin pipes up, “hopefully get some good content for the commercial he’s filming.”

“Oh, do you mind if I tag along?” you ask, picking at a hangnail, “I’ve always been so curious about the producing process.”

Jungkook’s eyes dart between Jimin and his friend, noticing the telepathic conversation they’re exchanging between you two. Jungkook’s palms start to sweat, not because Jimin definitely wants to probe, but because you made the first move. You pay no mind to the boys, nonchalantly pushing in your chair as you practically float to Jungkook’s side.

“Wait,” Taehyung recovers first, “you know him?”

You agree with a vague wave of your hand, “we work in the same area.”

Jungkook knows for a fact that’s not true, as you only started appearing in his life when he almost knocked you out. But Jungkook can only nod like a bobblehead, not wanting to get into the nitty-gritty.

“I promise to stay out of your way,” you say, “but don’t feel pressured if you don’t want me to go at all!”

“No no, I want you to come!” and Jungkook raises his voice a little too high to be deemed mannerly, and he watches you step back a bit at the sudden intrusion. His face is on fire, especially when there’s a little smirk grazing your lips.

“Well if you want me, you’ll have me.” you flirt, gesturing for him to take the lead.

Jimin and Taehyung’s faces have fallen flat. There’s a stray bit of limp lettuce hanging sadly from Jimin’s lip as he watches Jungkook escort you out of the building. Meanwhile, Jungkook is swallowing the biggest smile on his face. He’s going to spend the rest of the day with you. He doesn’t know if he’s going to get a decent shot in because you’re a definite distraction, but it’s totally worth it if he can get to know you a little better.

You mention that you haven’t walked around Seoul in a while. Jungkook wants to ask more about it, but as open as you display yourself, there’s definitely something guarding you. Jungkook wants to chalk it up behind the whole fiasco of mistaking him for someone else the other day, so he doesn’t want to step on those eggshells again.

But Jungkook is here to work. So he tells you to walk on and lead the way to Dongdaemun while he gets ample footage of the city.

He’s taking pictures of you along the way, but he decides to leave that part out. He likes the way your long red dress swishes in the breeze, the tail end of the fabric brushing against his legs whenever he gets too close.

You stop in front of a pet store, face glowing as you point to their aquarium tank. “Look!” you cry, tugging his sleeve over as if you’re long lost friends, “it’s my boi Nemo!”

He cracks up at your joke, as you excitedly shout to Jungkook that “you found your son!” and it spurs him on to continue his peals of laughter. The joke isn’t that funny but it’s humorous enough coming from you and the smile on your face is enough for him to return one equally as big.

“C’mon,” his fingers brush over the bare skin of your forearm, sending sparks straight to his heart, “it’s getting dark. Just keep swimming.”

Jungkook manages to get some good sunset content before the sky turns navy. He’s not a big fan of photographic tourism spots, but Jimin insisted that the big boss wanted a specific style for their company and he needed to get used to making the usual seem unique.

Looking over his shoulder, he sees you swinging your legs on a nearby bench. You’re munching on a bubble waffle, cheeks puffed as you concentrate on the Cheonggyecheon stream, water babbling.

He’s about to ask you if you want him to take a picture of you, because he thinks you would look beautiful with your dress billowing as you hop over the stones, but he notices the sadness in your face as you gaze at the water.

Lowering his camera, he sees the way your chewing slows, as if you don’t feel like putting anymore effort in the action. Your dimmed gaze seems to peer into a different world, as if you could dive right into the water and transport yourself far, far away from here.

Jungkook takes tentative steps, crouching down from your space at the bench so he would have to look up at you. His hand hovers to balance himself on your thigh, but he thinks better of it and decides to hold onto the wood.

“Can I ask you something?”

He doesn’t comment on the strain in your smile, “Sure.”

“Do I remind you of y’know, him? Your Jungkook?”

Your smile increases, and he doesn’t expect it. Shifting over, you pat the space next to him. It’s a tight fit, and your thighs brush his. “Yes and no. It doesn’t hurt or anything, really,” you answer softly, and you reach for his hand, pulling the long sleeves apart to reveal his tiger lily tattoo. He doesn’t believe your excuse for a damn second, but decides better than to speak against you. ��He’s still around, even if he isn’t here. I guess I was just thinking about how we could never go out like this.”

He tenses under your ministrations, and you immediately pick up on it like a sixth sense. “I’m not trying to replace him,” you add, and he tries to relax as you trace the petals on his arm, “I’m sorry if you felt that way. But it’s... impossible to compare you to him, really.”

“So, would you be interested in seeing me again?”

“I’d be upset if you weren’t, Kook.” you manage to pout, and you slide your hand down to thread your fingers between his. “Can I take you out on a date?”

“Only if I can take you out on one after.”

And it’s easy for the both of you to forget your circumstances, at least for tonight.

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

Jungkook drops you off at your apartment soon after, and it feels nice to kick off your shoes and place your bare feet on your soft carpet.

Your roommate’s feet are propped up, covered by a fuzzy grapefruit-colored blanket. Taehyung stretches his head from the couch to throw you a teasing smile, “Sooo, how was your night?”

Instead, you point a finger at the flatscreen playing some Korean drama. “Is that Jin?” you balk.

Taehyung cranes his neck to where he paused the drama. The man on the screen is definitely Kim Seokjin, judging from the plush lips and irritatingly symmetrical face. He looks absolutely comical in his Joseon get up and mustache, and you’re not surprised that he made it to the acting industry.

“Kim Seokjin? Yeahhhh,” Taehyung melts, relaxing into the couch, “that man is so fine I just want him to bend me over that little well and—”

You physically gag, causing Taehyung to break into peals of laughter, forgetting about his fruitless celebrity crush. Only you would never forget this interaction, the words currently searing into your memory at the thought of seeing Seokjin and Taehyung in the same room when you manage to return. “So?” he goads, “Jungkook? He looked like a scared bunny when Jimin glared at him.”

“It was… good,” you settle as an answer, reaching over to ruffle Taehyung’s messy bed head. “I like him, Tae.”

“That’s good,” Taehyung nods, “you deserve more happiness in your life.”

“You think so?”

“I know so!” Taehyung jerks up, punching his fist in the air. You giggle at his antics, and he ushers you over to the couch, “good things are coming, y/n. I can feel it.”

You don’t tell him, but you can feel it too. Sharing his blanket you snuggle further into the couch, asking questions about the famous actor Kim Seokjin and his litany of dramas he’s filmed under his belt. Tonight, falling asleep next to Taehyung, you have the best night’s sleep in weeks.

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

W1.

Jungkook sits in your sickness.

Namjoon says he doesn’t have to, doesn’t need to stay the night. You’ll be fine, your family will come in the morning and care for you. For once, Jungkook tucks his tail and says he wants to, even compromises to bring his work so he doesn’t miss a deadline.

But he can barely get a bar in because he’s too focused on you, your form all-encompassing as he makes sure you’re well-taken care of. Sehlyung dropped off your things from the apartment, carefully packed neatly in a duffle bag you’ve never used.

Soft, lo-fi hip hop plays from his computer speakers as he takes the time to nurture you, care for you. It’s dark outside, the only light emanating from the hallway and a dim desk lamp. He’s done his research, making sure to keep you as clean as you would like to be. He brushes your hair, takes the time to remove the tangles and pin it out of your face. His hands are slightly greasy when he’s done, and his hand falls to your hospital sleeve.

“I wonder how I should wash your hair,” he says aloud, “maybe I can get a small basin or something? It’s not the first time I washed your hair, remember when you sprained your arm after we snuck around in Dongdaemun?” he smiles at your peaceful expression, neutral, “you were such a baby, didn’t feel like shampooing with one hand.”

Talking is also good, too. They say that sometimes the patient can hear and recall conversations family and friends have shared. It’s a little jarring to them, almost like they’re drowning in their heads and unable to bubble up to the surface to reply, but it’s still reassuring to hear familiar voices.

He massages your limbs with lavender scented baby lotion, making sure your body isn’t wasting away and stretches your fingers and toes. You’d have a fit if you didn’t do your whole lotion routine daily, wanting to be soft and huggable at all times of the day. He puts on a pair of pink bunny socks, making sure your feet don’t get too cold in the sterile room.

Running out of things to talk about, he settles for singing along to his playlist, knowing how much you loved to fall asleep to the sound of his voice. He’s tired and he doesn’t feel one-hundred percent, but he hopes you appreciate the sentiment either way.

Weaving through the wires and cords that sustain you he places your hand in his larger one. Jungkook wishes he could care for you everyday like this, treat your body like a temple and wait for you to wake up. Resting his head on the mattress, his soft locks brush against your thigh unkempt as he focuses on tracing words on your palm.

Lavender. Chicken. Netflix.

Your nurse steps in, giving Jungkook a polite wave as she does her nightly rounds. He mumbles a half-hearted greeting in response, immersed in working between the lines on your soft skin as he traces character by character. Your nurse is quick with her work as she checks things off on her iPad and checks the machines that keep them informed. As if she’s intruding on an intimate moment, she types her findings faster.

JK. y/n. Still with you. Sorry. Love.

Your hand twitches in his grasp. It’s minuscule, a brief curl of your fingers. The pad of your thumb barely brushes his knuckle and Jungkook’s reeling. It’s only half a second, but Jungkook cries “whoa!” and sits up straight, startling your nurse, “she’s moving!”

Your nurse smiles sadly at the sparkles of hope in his eyes. “It’s only muscle spasms, Jungkook. It happens sometimes,” and she catches herself before Jungkook’s shoulders deflate and sink into the floor, “but see her eyes?”

He blinks, watching as the nurse gestures to your face. She’s right, your eyes are movie, flickering back and forth. Your lids may not be open, but the movement is there.

“She’s either dreaming or really listening to you, Jungkook,” your nurse murmurs fondly, “make sure you keep her entertained, being in a coma is awfully boring.”

Jungkook thanks her, sending a terse smile as she whisks herself away. He squeezes your hand firmly, wishing you would give him another sign. He feels like he’s chasing you now, reaching out to you, talking to you in hopes you’ll reply. It’s ironic, considering this time he’s not sure if you’ll turn around this time, bounce back as you once were.

Wiping the wetness from his eyes, he tucks you in and scoots his chair closer to your bed. “Wake up soon, yeah? We’re waiting for you,” he whispers, holding your hand next to his head as he tries to fall asleep.

Tonight, he’s dreamless.

#jungkook fic #bts fic #goldenclosetnet #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook scenarios #bts scenarios

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theres-no-protocol-for-this · 2 years

Text

Cage

A fictional snippet featuring a married Keith and Shiro. The prompt was chastity and the victim of choice was Keith. Written for @butter-and-too-much-bread

The content below the cut features adults and sexual content, but it's pretty tame all things considered. As always, please know your limits.

Thick rope feels soft and gentle against his overheated skin, somehow familiar and oddly right even if they are almost painfully tight. The position feels like home, arms tied about his head, legs spread. He’s lying on a bed, on top of the sheets, and the world smells vaguely of Shiro.

As it should.

“Keith?” asks a concerned, soft voice somewhere to his left.

He’s gagged, so the affirmative answer is more of a moan than anything coherent, but that’s all right. Shiro knows him, and he’s pretty sure he’s not allowed to talk anyway. His fangs bite into the gag, and that feels great — words have gone out the window hours ago? Days?

“Shh,” whispers the speaker as his sweet, sweet scent fills Keith’s now-sensitive nostrils. “Everything’s going to be fine. You’re safe, love. I’ve got you.”

That was never in question. Keith already knows he’s safe because he can smell Shiro; he can’t see Shiro, but that’s all right — he’s got other senses for that.

The soothing calm lasts another ten minutes before something in his mind rebels in a wave of roiling panic. Something is wrong, insists his overwhelmed brain. Distant memories surface briefly, and in a moment of clarity he realized that he’s actually fucked. At least, he’s aboard the Atlas and not still on the surface, small favor as that might be.

Muffled voices on the other side of a wall draw his attention. His hearing has significantly improved, which is both a pleasant surprise and an utter detriment.

Even at this distance, Shiro sounds upset. “Are you absolutely sure there’s nothing we can do?”

The other voice isn’t familiar, and it grates. “Unfortunately no, we’ll just have to let the poison run its course and hope for the best.”

“And the worst outcome?”

The poignant silence that follows scares Keith even if he can’t identify the reason.

He wrestles with the restraints briefly, but he doesn’t use any real strength. Ropes mean playtime, and he knows not to struggle too hard when he and Shiro play. In the moment, they’re a welcoming but restrictive hug that feels so desperately familiar.

“Look, Admiral, sir, this is unprecedented on so many levels, we have no idea what to expect. The substance is perfectly safe for humans — we can’t even digest the stuff — and deadly to Galra, and Keith’s physiology is somewhere in between. We can’t even begin to predict the outcomes, long term.”

Shiro’s voice is pained but resolute. “So be it. Is there anything else you need from the planet?”

“Negative, sir.”

“In that case, dismissed. I… I need some time.”

A minute late quiet footsteps approach the bed, and Shiro’s soothing voice centers on Keith. “Hey, hey, it’s all right. I didn’t realize you were awake. You need to take it easy for me. Shh, that’s it, just relax.”

The Blade slowly melts into the bed, one muscle group at a time. It’s a familiar exercise, and it feels good to follow Shiro’s orders. In this space they share, it’s the right thing to do.

Something in his mind protests that this isn’t how this works, but Keith ignores it.

“That’s a good boy,” Shiro croons.

Keith preens because he likes being good and he likes Shiro, and these two things together are perfect. Only briefly does he remember they’re married and he has a ring to prove it, but the overwhelming happiness remains long after any clarity is gone.

“Doing so good for me.”

Warmth flows through him and down straight to his cock, which immediately encounters resistance in the form of a chastity cage. Keith moans at the uncomfortable intrusion and tries to reach for his dick, forgetting his hands are still tied.

Shiro murmurs reassurance and puts his much larger hand over Keith’s thin, almost fragile wrists. “You have to stay still for me, baby. You can do this. Just a little bit more. All you need to do is relax, and you’re doing so well.”

Keith wants… he’s not entirely sure what he wants, but it involves the two of them, lots of skin, teeth marks, and so much sex. All the sex, if he can somehow manage it.

He’s sure Shiro tastes as delightful as he smells, and he’s willing to lick every inch of Shiro’s skin to find out for sure. He thrusts his hips up off the bed suggestively. It’s playtime, and when they play Keith’s dick doesn’t do much participating, which is how he likes it.

It’s much the same now, a pleasant burn of denial.

“I know you don’t really understand me,” Shiro says, voice tinged with sadness and hopelessness, “and I don’t think you want to hear the technical details.” He sobs quietly. “I miss you, darling. I miss you so much. This has been the longest week of my life, and I used to fight monsters in an arena. Denying you is the most uncomprehendingly difficult thing I’ve ever done, and I can’t even begin to know how much you’re hurting.”

Keith whines because he doesn’t like it when Shiro’s sad, and… well, clarity might be fleeting but he knows enough. He’d like to comfort his husband somehow. So he sighs softly and relaxes and turns his head toward Shiro.

It’s not enough, but…

In a burst of memory, he’d rather forget, he remembers raking his claws — he has claws, they’re sharp, and he will use them to hurt anyone who even thinks of hurting Shiro — against Shiro’s skin. Oh. Did he hurt his husband? Is that why Shiro’s sad?

“Get some more rest for me,” Shiro pleads. “I’ll be right here the whole time. I promise.”

Instead, Keith moans and tries to beg. He’s good, Shiro says so, and he wants Shiro to touch him, to spread his legs and shove Shiro’s cock into his waiting ass. He whines when Shiro doesn’t move.

Usually, that’s how it goes… Why not today? Keith is good.

“Not tonight, love. Just bear with it for me.”

Keith whimpers and thrusts again.

“You know better love. That’s not for you to play with. You have to wait patiently now. Just relax, baby. That’s right, that’s so good.”

Keith wants to be good, so he waits a little longer.

***

Keith wakes up about twelve hours later with the biggest hangover he’s ever experienced and only some vague hints of what the fuck happened. Actually, scratch that — he has no idea what happened. He can feel ropes around his wrists and thighs, and more of the same across his torso. He’s also still gagged so they must’ve played the night before, which huh.

He finds the backboard of a very-familiar bed, the one he normally shares with Shiro when they’re aboard the Atlas and somehow headed in the same direction, and raps on it gently a few times. Their usual signal for playtime’s over.

That wakes his husband like nothing else.

“Keith?”

Another knock, just once, then a pause then again. He’s here and awake and extremely confused about what the fuck they were doing last night that somehow went all the way to the next morning. He’s not even entirely sure it’s morning.

Shiro removes the ropes almost faster than Keith can account for the fact that they exist. Keith’s skin feels weird and a little raw, like every touch is magnified. Smell, too, now that he’s paying attention.

And then Shiro snaps the gag off and Keith nearly bites through his lip on accident. Fangs. He has two fangs, and it takes him a moment to figure out how they’re supposed to fit into his mouth.

Blindfold off, the world is a bright and cheerful place, as much as artificial lighting aboard a sentient spaceship can be. More cheerful than it has any right to be given the pounding headache.

Fuck mornings, Keith decides impulsively.

Meanwhile, Shiro is talking and it sounds like apologies. So, Keith manages a dry and hoarse, “Slow down. I’m fine.”

“You’re fine?”

“Well, mostly fine.” Unaccountably Galran given he was still human yesterday, but otherwise fine. “What time is it?”

“It’s just after noon. Keith, it’s been a week.”

“A week? Since when?”

Shiro pulls his naked husband into his lap and hugs the stuffing out of him. “What’s the last thing you remember, love?”

“Uh, all the diplomats decided it’d be fun to do a little drinking and mingling before the summit, and I guess I joined them for politeness’ sake.” Keith wraps his arms around Shiro’s waist, mindful of the slowly retracting claws and Shiro’s sleeveless shirt. “The bar was… nice.”

“Someone spiked your drink,” Shiro tells him. “Some kind of Galra drug. The details are fuzzy because everyone is claiming it’s not them, and…”

“And I didn’t notice?”

“You did. Apparently ingesting it wasn’t necessary. Some got on your skin, and the reaction was near-instantaneous. I have video, you don’t want to see it.”

Keith shivers at this revelation. “And then what happened?”

“You grew claws and fur and made a run for the Atlas. No one was hurt.”

A memory pokes its way into Keith’s conscious mind. “Except you?”

“You gave me a couple of nasty cuts when I scared you. They’ll heal.” Shiro wants nothing more than to hold Keith forever and never let anyone touch him again. Definitely not great given their respective jobs. “We restrained you.”

“With rope?”

“You tore through normal restraints like they were tissue paper. Fuck, Keith, I didn’t know you were that strong. I didn’t know what else to do. But ropes seemed to help. It’s like some of our playtimes bled over.”

Indigo eyes look up at Shiro with confusion and dawning horror. “A week?”

“Longest week, ever, love.”

“Shit, I’m so sorry, Shiro.”

“This wasn’t your fault, you have nothing to apologize for. Apparently, you’re a very protective person when under the influence of alien mind-altering drugs.” Shiro wants to withhold the rest, but he doesn’t lie to his husband. “I didn’t know if you’d ever wake up, Keith. Stars above, it was terrifying. Apparently, the Galra don’t recover, and the substance is banned practically everywhere.”

Keith winces audibly and buried his nose in Shiro’s shoulder. “I’m here,” he says softly into sweet-smelling fabric.

“And I am so glad.” Shiro sniffles a little and puts his left hand on the back of Keith’s head, stroking his soft, damp hair. “How about a shower and some breakfast, and then good news to the team, and then…”

Keith laughs and doesn’t protest when Shiro picks him up and cradles him to his chest. “Sounds perfect.”

“It better be. I plan on not letting you go anytime soon.”

***

Breakfast out of the way, Keith and Shiro find themselves tangled up in bed. Their plates sit on the nightstand and there’s a nature documentary playing on mute on the display across from them, largely ignored.

Keith’s headache subsided to a dull throb once he had food in his stomach, so he lies naked next to his husband, arm draped across the older man’s chiseled and frankly gorgeous chest. He looks up at Shiro with unabashed love in his eyes and then smirks.

“Even when I was feral as fuck, you still didn’t take it off,” he murmurs, nodding toward the slim, metal cage wrapped almost delicately around his dick.

Shiro turns a beautiful shade of bright red and stumbles over the answer. “You wouldn’t let anyone near you at first, except me I guess. And then, I don’t know, you seemed more comfortable with it on.”

“Guess I’m used to it by now,” the Blade says with a soft, indulgent smile. Their relationship has never been conventional, and it continues to amaze Keith just how well they fit together. “Thank you for taking such good care of me.”

“For you, anything!”

“How about you lay there and let me take care of you, then.”

“What about your headache?”

“Barely even there.” Keith makes a dismissive gesture. “You still smell so nice.”

“Uh, yeah. Doc said the heightened senses are a side-effect of the drug. They might fade after a little while.”

Keith straddles his husband, whose still dressed in a pair of sweatpants but little else, and licks his chest. “I was laying there and wondering if you taste good.” He does it again. “Now I know.”

“And do I?”

The Blade nuzzles at the nape of Shiro’s neck gingerly. “Heavenly, starlight. I will never get enough of you.”

He sits up a little straighter and runs his hands across Shiro’s chest and sides, soft caresses against heated skin. He can feel the shapes of Shiro’s scars, knows them so intimately — a part of the man he loves as much as his eyes or toes.

Then, he moves lower. Roving hands tug at the waistband and Shiro lifts his hips to make it easier for Keith to pull off his only piece of clothing. Not that it’s necessary; Keith can probably bench-press him at this point. Once the fabric’s gone, the man’s hands find their way to Shiro’s thighs.

Keith bends his head down to Shiro’s crotch and takes a deep breath. His kisses are gentle as he explores familiar territory. He loves the way his husband’s dick fits into his hand. Keith is already wet from the sight, and pre-come drips unceremoniously on Shiro’s legs.

“You’re beautiful,” the admiral whispers, voice breathy and disbelieving. “I don’t know what I did to earn a lifetime with you, but I’m never letting you go.”

Keith pulls away just long enough to grab lube and then returns. “Mmm,” he hums at the statement. “Then, let me take care of you,” he adds, setting the lube aside and slowly licking the tip of Shiro’s cock like it’s the most delicious meal he’s ever had.

His own dick whines in anticipation, surging against its cage like a wild animal. Keith can only chuckle, knowing that Shiro doesn’t have any plans of unlocking him. And that’s the way he prefers.

Outside of their private space, Keith has to wear so many hats, make so many decisions with enormous consequences. He’s a Blade and an ambassador, and sometimes he’s the guy with the sword liberating holdout colonies.

In here, though, safe with the man he loves, with his husband’s cock down his throat, he’s just Keith. He likes the denial, the feeling of fullness and the rush of pleasure that comes from finding himself like this. Helpless but to enjoy what he’s allowed. Saliva drips down his chin as he pulls away from Shiro’s dick for a breath.

“Want more?” he asks, nodding at the lube.

“Not right now,” Shiro manages somehow, words largely having left the building. “You’re doing so good for me, baby.”

With a soft hum, Keith returns to his ministrations. It doesn’t take much for Shiro to cum down Keith’s throat, and it is heaven, and it’s perfect. And neither of them want it any other way.

Shiro reaches for the lube, and the rest, as they say is history.

#sheith #voltron #fanfiction #my writing

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jj-ktae · 4 years

Text

(M) Squirt Pro Quo

Banner : courtesy of @jaebeomsmullet

Pairing : Bambam x Fem!Reader Genre : Smut (Oral, body fluids, penetration, raw language) Words : 2669 Saturday nights are the busiest ones and starting midnight, most party-goers are either drunk or comatose, if not both. Tonight though, as you are taking your last fare, one regular customer enters your taxi with a whole new destination he wishes to penetrate into.

This scenario is part of The Pleasure Chest ~ A Cringe Fest Collaboration

Squirt Pro Quo

You will never understand people who drink until they collapse.

Alcohol is a good way to make a party wilder but what is the point of wasting all this money if you’re going to forget about what actually happened? It’s part of your job, taking care of drunk customers who get left under your care like it’s your duty to make sure they make it home safely.

You have no other choice though. It is part of the job; no driver can drop a dead weight on the street and leave.

But how many times do you have to do this every weekend? It’s tiring and it fills your car with disgusting odours of liquor you wouldn’t even pay to drink. The application is beeping every five minutes with new requests. It’s the end of the night and people are more and more wasted, turning fares into a chore you wish you could live without.

It’s good money though. Weekends are good money.

This is what you tell yourself when you take the last fare. Money is needed. You might even get tipped. You usually check who you’re taking; you never know what type of person could enter your car. Some are regular users, others are new. You often pick the ones you at least took one time, just to make sure.

Drunk people aren’t only hard to deal with, they apparently gauge their level of attractiveness accordingly to the number of shot they drank.

You stop by one of the familiar nightclub, phone laying on the passenger seat and already signalling your customer that you are waiting. You turn the music off, just in case you end up with someone who thinks you’re holding an after party in your car.

You see a few people stumble and laugh at their clumsiness, others are dancing to no music at all and oh is that a man peeing against that tree?

“I’m late I’m late-, oh it’s you!” The voice makes you stop judging the bystanders to look at your rear-view, where one of your regular customers is looking for the seatbelt.

Bambam.

You should have seen it coming; there was not a week when you didn’t take him back home. He always goes out of the same club, looking like a hot mess and being overly flirty.

He also gives huge tips.

“Am I the last customer?” said boy asks, finger pressing the button to lower the back window. He takes a deep breath and you suspect he is feeling nauseous.

You start the engine, nodding and sighing heavily when a guy almost falls right in front of your car, in the middle of the road. “Tough night?” You try.

Bambam shrugs. “The usual routine night, alcohol, dancing, doing weird things.” his comeback is only funny to him and he notices it, because you see him nod toward the back of your head. “How about you?”

“The usual routine night, alcohol, puking, doing weird things.” You joke back, stopping at a red stop and looking at the rear view again. “I can’t wait to go to sleep.”

“Do you ever party?”

You shrug, barely turning around to look at him. “When I see how you people end up puking and having no dignity, I wonder if I ever will.”

Bambam laughs, dodging your remark with ease. “You’re too pretty to collapse on the streets anyways.”

“Always the smooth talker.”

“Yet you refuse to give me your phone number.”

You pull up at another red stop, feet pressing the brake hard just to shake him a little bit.

Bambam jumps, his pitiful whine quickly replaced by another pick-up line. “I love girls who know how to handle big engines.” he smirks afterward, a brow wiggling up in an obvious attempt to be lascivious.

“You whistle, amused.” This is what you say to the girls in that nightclub, right?”

“None of them hold the gear level the way you do.”

To this you laugh. Bambam always does the same thing; he flirts and flirts until you almost give in before leaving a big tip on the backseat and offering numerous winks.

Tonight, he seems different, though. Almost serious.

“How many car metaphors do you have?”

“Probably less than your horsepower.” He says, taking the seat belt off to lean toward the driver’s seat. “You obviously have a lot going on under that hood.”

You chuckle, taking a turn before stopping again. How many more red lights will you have to deal with?

Bambam feels your irritation, for his hands reach your shoulders to massage your tense muscles. “You’ve never been this cranky, what happened?”

“Nothing, I’m just tired.”

He presses harder, his lean finger feeling like heaven. He does have some skills. “So it is probably a bad time to tell you that I forgot my wallet at the nightclub?”

You turn around abruptly, forcing him to stop massaging you and looking bewildered. “You what?”

“I just noticed, it’s not in my pocket anymore.” He doesn’t even look panicked and merely makes an apologetic face.

“How are you going to pay- great, I will never have that money, right?” You should have known. Turning on the feature I take cash on the application was a very stupid move.

“Well…” Bambam starts, not really getting the part where you would need so little money when you can have him in your car. “I could give you the money next time or…”

You stop, nodding toward him to make him continue.

“Or I could make you relax.”

The light turns green and thankfully there’s no one behind you because you’ve been proposed...sex in exchange of a free ride?

Bambam’s hand finds your shoulder again. “Look at that awful pout. Such a beautiful car body yet such a bad temper…”

You see the way he enjoys the teasing and the way his eyes lit up when you frown at him. He likes it when it’s a losing battle, it seems.

But it might not be that much of a losing battle when the probability of hot sex in your own car crosses your mind.

You lack too much sleep. It has to be the reason why your pussy is clenching.

“Love, the light is green, or you probably would like me to-”

You turn around before he can finish, pressing the accelerator so hard it plasters him again your leather seat.

Bambam laughs, your uneasiness more amusing than disturbing.

He finally looks confused when you don’t turn left like you should be doing. You see him cross his legs, eyes boring into you through the rear view.

“I live the other way” he tries, amused.

“Did you think I would go all the trouble of accepting that fare and leave without getting anything in return?” You answer, irritation mixed with a sudden urge to destroy Bambam’s smug face.

And smug he is, with his lip-smacking and quiet nodding. He lets you take him where you want, still slightly surprised that you finally accepted his overtures.

You stop near a tiny park. The road is empty if not for a couple of taxi, already going around town to pick the last partygoers.

No one is walking by this side of the park so early, either.

You turn around when the engine stops, observing a curious Bambam who is checking outside to test the waters.

“Now how about I lubricate the camshaft?” You lift a brow and earn an impressed look from Bambam, who wastes no time reaching for your seat bell to free your body. His clothes create funny sounds against the leather but he is already too caught-up in the act.

Instead he pulls you at the back of the car with much difficulty.

“Babe, I don’t need no GPS do get into your pants.”

And it is true. Bambam pops your jacket’s buttons with one snap of his fingers and pulls on your sleeves to let it fall. His long coat is easily forgotten when you straddle him and sneak your hands under the thick fabric to let it slide off his shoulders.

He grabs your hips, leaning properly against the leather seat and creating more questionable sounds. They all fall to deaf ears though, especially when he raises his pelvis to make you feel how aroused he is.

“Which gear do you think I’m at?” He teases, head dipping to lick the curve of your neck. His thick lips feel like fire and even cause tiny desperate thrusts against his now hard dick.

“I’m not sure...but you might need to slow down before your engine goes overheating.”

He laughs, warm breath tickling your moist and sensitive skin.

Your clothes fall rapidly, piling on the carpeting and each layer reveals an even better view, Bambam thinks. He lets you return the favour, manoeuvring his hips when you start pulling on his expensive Gucci belt to reach for his ripped jeans’ zipper.

Fog paints the back windows –and you wonder when did he even pull if back up- , hiding your shadows and allowing Bambam to open your bra without you being too conscious about anyone seeing you.

You lean back when your breasts meet the chill air, your hands leaving the bulge in his boxers. Bambam stares for the longest time, his eyes obviously drawn to your nipples, now perky and oh-so-inviting.

You roll your hips against him when he grabs one of your breast and wraps his mouth around a nipple. A satisfied sigh leaves your parted lips and your back arches, automatically sticking more of you against him. The boy welcomes you gladly, bringing you even closer while subtly grazing his lips over your skin.

You jump, giving him a particularly hard thrust in the process and he can only groan, before sucking hard in retaliation.

He is not going to get a free fare and tease you.

Bambam releases your nipple with a popping sound when you part from him. He stays seated, looking at you questioningly as you get up from his lap.

“Let’s check that dipstick before it goes into the oil hole.” You wink seductively, your inhibition out the window as you pull on his boxer’s elastic to free his painful hard-on.

Bambam hisses, your cool fingers short-circuiting his already poorly functioning brain. Two pumps are enough to turn him into a mess of thrusts and grunts, your grip a little bit too tight if he wants to last long enough to keep his promise.

But you don’t seem to care for you lean - and hit your knee against the seat - to gobble his dick in one go.

Bambam jerks away, head shaking violently. “Easy,” he breathes, eyes glued to your parted lips, now against that one very swollen vein.

The feeling is too exciting. The situation is nothing but thrilling; anyone could walk by and see you, kneeling in the back of your car and feasting on a man’s cock. It feels wrong, like you shouldn’t mix work and pleasure but at the same time, you’re merely paying yourself for that free ride.

Bambam is breathing heavily, the tip of his cock turning redder with each stroke of your tongue, now flat against him. He lets you have your fun, satisfied with his self-control. He would love to fill your mouth right there and then. You’d look so beautiful, with a string of semen dripping from your chin.

You look up when you feel his finger threading into your hair. It’s too delicate to be one of a horny man but it isn’t unpleasant; you definitely don’t know him enough to allow any sort of choking with his thick dick.

Surprisingly, the thought doesn’t bother you.

“Touch me,” he adds, “pull on me like you pull on that handbrake.” he demands, now at your mercy. Your hand automatically goes to his navel and travels down until it reaches the base of his cock.

“Like this?” You ask candidly, hand devastating as you pull on his dick way too hard.

It almost hurts, but Bambam enjoys every second of it. “Just like this…”

You keep going, alternating between hard sucking and dick pulling and Bambam grabs your chin when he finds himself reaching his peak

“Turn around.” He adjusts himself on the seat and grabs your hips. Your head hits the ceiling in the process and Bambam has to spread his legs even wider if he wants you to keep a good position.

You end up looking ahead, eyes going wide when you notice how clean the windshield is; anyone could see you, bent into your car and ready to impale yourself on a guy.

“Come on, sit on me babe…” You hear Bambam’s needy whispers and you comply, aligning yourself perfectly and feeling him enter you with a switch motion. “...ride me.”

You moan, the position tiring but also offering one of the best angle you’ve ever experienced. You do exactly as he says, your butt bouncing rapidly on his lap and allowing him to nestle his dick into you to the hilt.

And nothing more happens, nothing more but the sound of wet skin and pleasured moans. You end up grabbing the head-rests for balance when your legs start to quiver and Bambam decides to end your misery.

He feels the signs of release, so powerful they are tickling his legs and hips. Everything gets too hot, too satisfying to resist the urge to fill you up.

And that’s what he does, when he can’t take it no more.

You feel it, the warm semen and the jolting legs informing you of what is happening.

Bambam gives one final thrust, his head falling back and body sweating.

It was mind-blowing.

You’re about to protest. How dare he finish before he even-

“We’re not done.”

You find yourself being pulled back on the seat, his cum dripping on your thighs and you’re sure the leather is going to be ruined but you’re also curious.

“Let me take you somewhere nice.”

He has difficulties moving and you totally blame it on how long his legs are but he doesn’t complain, even if he looks ridiculous with his pants down and shiny dick.

He spreads your legs and somehow finds himself between them. His finger graze the wet skin and you cannot help but blush at how satisfied he seems to be when he looks at his own cum staining your beautiful skin.

“So fucking pretty…” he muses, fingers reaching for your engorged pussy to thrust two fingers into you.

You close your eyes, legs shivering when he picks up the pace and starts ramming into you. You hear him grunt, like he is enjoying this as much as you.

And he is. “You know what works best with overheating engines?” He looks up at you and tries to get up. His voice is a tad deeper and sensual, like he is going to completely end you. He grips the seat and ends up towering you, his hand now allowing him to press his thumb against your clit while finger-fucking you.

You shake your head, eyes glued to his predatory smile and shiny eyes.

He accelerates his hand, stimulating you more and more with his stroke. “Coolant.” His hand goes crazy, so fast it’s almost unbearable.

You scream, hips shaking from the hectic thrusts and you don’t expect to cum this hard.

So hard you are now squirting all over Bambam.

He looks down, admiring his masterpiece and stimulates you even more to keep you going until there’s nothing but a trickle of cum, ridiculous and dripping down the seat.

You keep your eyes closed, the realisation of what happened hitting you like a truck - or so to speak.

Bambam sits back, his hands grabbing your exhausted legs to let them rest on his half-clothed lap. “How about I never get my wallet back?” he tries, his cheeky smile tearing a tired snort out of you.

“You’ll have to because my car is a mess now.”

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ayellowcurtain · 3 years

Text

Can you write about Marti maybe getting his moms mental illness and maybe Nico helping accept that he has it.

He thought a lot about the day he would go back home. Martino is not sure if for the right reasons or not. He made himself think as much as possible about it in an attempt to not make himself anxious when the day finally came. It’s very easy for him to slip into an overthinking headspace when any change is about to happen. Going back to Rome, home, shouldn’t feel like a big change but it does after almost a month away with very little to no news from his friends. It was his choice but going back is like walking in the dark.

After a lot of therapy, and a lot of medication, his mom suggested for him to spend his holidays somewhere else, to clear his head and relax and give himself time to breathe and heal whatever he was struggling with, never able to put it into words to his loved ones. Martino didn’t want to go anywhere, obviously, but after his and Ni’s break-up, he thought it was for the best to give everyone some space and time away from him.

He would also spend way too much time and brain space stressing if Nico was already looking for someone else and so he needed to be unable to run into him any time he went somewhere.

Nico is a single man now, no matter how much it bothers Martino deep down, and he can do whatever he feels like doing with anyone he might be interested in.

“Here is your sweater, Martino.” His grandma puts it on top of his zipped bag like it will magically open and like this old lady was magically reading his mind. It’s Ni’s sweater that maybe Martino stole after one of their last nights together.

Their break up was a conscious decision they made together. Martino needed to take better care of himself and he thought Nico would be better off without having to deal with his own problems and Martino’s as a heavy plus. He wasn’t doing well and he didn’t want to pull Nico with him.

It doesn’t mean that they don’t love each other anymore, and it doesn’t mean it was easy to say no to one last night together.

“It’s like in the movies. The break-up sex.” Ni whispered against his lips with a sad smile, soon brushing them softly against the already warm and sensitive skin of Martino’s neck. He was so dumb and so cute and Martino was still so in love.

He slept wearing the sweater and pretended to forget he should leave it behind when he left Nico’s place the next morning without saying goodbye. They’re still friends but Martino thinks it’s because they’re physically apart from each other. Living in the same city again might make things change very quickly. In the back of his mind, Martino can’t help but be hopeful they can get back together in the near future but he knows it’s selfish for him to pick when they can or can’t be together so he’ll try to keep things normal.

“I washed it.” His grandma explains without being asked, pointing to the dark blue sweater still sitting on top of his bag.

“Why would you do that?” Martino frowns, looking at her, suddenly feeling his heart race and shrink with the thought that Nico’s smell is gone.

“What are you talking about? It was smelly, you used it every night to bed, I had to wash it. It was smelly.”

He bites his tongue not to curse, finally holding it and smelling it. The sweater that Martino’s brain pretended still smelled like Niccolò now smells like freshly washed clothes that were dried in the very hot, midday sun.

He’s going home, he’ll see Nico soon but the lack of his smell in a dumb piece of clothing makes a lump almost close his throat, and Martino closes his eyes not to cry.

Martino opens his bag and shoves the sweater inside, putting most of his weight on top of the bag to close it again. He says goodbye to his grandma and thanks her for letting him stay there for so long, he’s sure he wasn’t the easiest guest. She shrugs like it was nothing and gives him some snacks to eat on his train ride home.

While he’s sitting on the train by himself, Martino finally grabs his phone from the pocket on the side of his bag. It’s fully charged after a month of very little use. Martino forced himself to stay away from his phone as much as possible and Nico started this dumb tradition of sending his letters instead. He wasn’t completely offline but he’s sure whatever information of everyone he got through Nico’s letters were more or less filtered to not overwhelm him.

Everyone knows when he’s coming home because Martino told Nico and he told him he didn’t mind if the information got spread out because he knew Nico would have a hard time keeping that part to himself. So as the train stops at his station, Martino starts to worry a surprise-welcome-home party will be waiting for him at his mom’s place.

He holds his bag tighter and walks slower than usual, trying to prepare himself to pretend he’s fully recovered if the party is the actual case. He doesn’t want to make his friends feel bad for doing something he’s not ready to enjoy just yet.

Martino stops a few meters away from home when he doesn’t find any sign of a party or his friends but a huge bouquet being held by Nico, checking his phone every few seconds, walking from one side of the door to the other while waiting.

He only finds Martino when he stops a few meters away from him to not scare Nico too much, smiling, trying to ignore the blush that he knows is staining his cheeks, his whole body overheating with anxiety.

“Hi…”

“Hi! I didn’t know what time you would be coming home exactly so I decided to wait outside.” Nico acts like they haven’t spend a whole month without seeing each other, being broken up. Martino is thankful, even though he knows Nico is not doing it for him, he’s just being himself but it’s nice to have a sense of normalcy right away.

“You could have gone inside to wait...I’m sure my mom would be happy to see you.”

Nico looks over his shoulder and lifts his eyebrows, pointing to the building.

“Oh! I saw her. I went up to say hi and tell that I was here, but I...wanted to wait for you here.”

Martino smiles and nods his head, looking at the bouquet and Nico follows his gaze.

“Welcome back, Marti!” He says quietly but excited, finally offering Martino the flowers. Martino puts his bag on the floor and holds it carefully, surprised by how heavy it is and how good it smells.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted you to have a good first day back.” Nico stands on his tiptoes for a second, not sure what to do with his empty hands now, putting them inside the pockets in his jeans.

Martino touches his pockets until he finds his keys, unlocking the door and holding the door open for Nico to follow him inside.

The walk upstairs is quiet but not heavy. Martino leads the way, and Nico offers to carry his bag and Martino doesn’t argue. He can feel Nico staring at him and he wished he had more time to more himself more presentable after a long train ride, but there’s no coming back now.

“How were things around here...since I left?”

“Good...boring.”

He steps out the stairs, looking at the empty hall leading to his door and he feels his nerves floating around his stomach in antecipation. Martino waits for Nico to step out of the stairs and he just moves forward, kissing Nico without saying anything first, putting his hand in the back of Nico’s head, pressing their lips tight against each other, no room for second thoughts, Marti just wants to really enjoy this long second.

“Sorry...sorry, I shouldn’t have kissed you. I’m sorry. I disappear for a month and then just kiss you out of nowhere. Sorry, Ni.”

He looks down and holds his flowers tighter, but Nico’s contagious laugh echoes around the empty hallway.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, Marti. If you haven't done it, I would have.”

“Really?” Nico nods his head like that’s the obvious answer, lifting his eyebrows again, still smiling, “I thought that you had moved on.” Marti tries to explain his line of thought.

“Why? You broke things up but I never believed you. You needed time and I said okay but it doesn’t mean I just suddenly don’t want to be with you and kiss the first person I see the second you’re out of my sight.”

“Sorry. That’s not what I meant. It’s just that a month is a long time and I said I didn’t know when I was coming home.”

“I wasn’t in a rush. I would have waited for as long as you needed me to.”

Martino steps closer again now that he knows that he can, resting his forehead against Nico’s, smiling when he does, gently caressing his fuzzy cheek, happy to have Nico close again.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Marti. Let’s go inside, your mom was making us some delicious pizza.”

Martino lets Nico lead the way like he’s going home too, always looking back to see if Marti is following him. It’s funny that he needs to check because Martino would follow him anywhere.

#skam italia #martino rametta #niccolò fares #martino x niccolò #nicotino #skamit

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