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humanitys-strongest-bamf · 4 months

Text

so have y'all seen the new official art?

"You Fucking Minx" | Modern!AU Smut Drabble

✧ word count ➼ ~800 ✧ notes ➼ modern!au, smut, afab!reader, levi is someone in a photoshoot, the new official art made me horny dont @ me, i also dont know how to come up with titles and this is what my sleep-deprived brain came up with i'M SORRY, as usual minors interacting will be blocked

From the minute that you saw Levi in that god damn suit, you knew you were going to lose it. You already knew that he was going to look stunning, and remembered how peculiar he was when you were shopping for it with him. It had to be the right color, sizing, and the fabric had to be made of the right material. He even bought a matching set of gloves to go with it.

As soon as the photos were done and he walked off-stage, you dragged him away and into his private dressing room. The original plan was to wait until you got home before you tore that suit off him, but you were impatient and ravenous upon seeing him.

"...shit," he cursed to himself, groaning as he felt you drag your tongue from the base of his cock, up his shaft, and to the tip. Your tongue swirled around it twice before you wrapped your lips around him, grabbing onto his shaft with your hand as you began bobbing your head up and down.

It was taking everything in him to keep himself from holding your head down to thrust up into you. Holding himself back was becoming especially difficult, given how much you had been edging him ever since you dragged him offstage.

Every time he felt his abs begin to tense up, he'd feel you stop, giving him a mischievous look as you continued to tease him.

Levi didn't want to immediately fuck you at first. The suit was expensive and dark enough to the point that any mess that you could potentially leave behind would be more than visible—and considering that he still had the latter half of the photoshoot to do, cum stains on his fancy, black suit was not something that he could afford—but you had edged him one too many times, and he felt like he was going to implode if he didn't get to fuck you right then and there.

Using one hand to brush his bangs out of his eyes, he pulled you off him and lifted you, dragging you onto him so that you were straddling him around the chair. Levi impatiently bunched your skirt up above your ass, and pushed your panties to the side, letting out a quiet tut as he felt how wet you were.

He groaned and shut his eyes, resting his head against the wall behind him as he felt you slide onto his cock, your slick inviting him in as you surrounded his cock with your velvety walls.

Following his movements, you began to slowly move up and down on his cock, holding onto his shoulders to keep yourself steady.

However, your movements clearly weren't fast enough for him, with Levi being more than frustrated from your earlier edging, so his hips almost immediately began bucking up into yours, with his fingers digging into the meat of your ass.

The impact of his hips against yours sent shockwaves throughout your body and Levi was only able to look up into your elated gaze as it got harder for him to stay quiet.

"You fucking minx," he cursed through his teeth, his breathing rapidly destabilizing, "just dragging me backstage and then pulling this shit."

All you could really respond with only included whines and gasps, with it being nearly impossible to speak. Each time his hips met yours, you felt your breath getting knocked out of your lungs and you felt your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you felt your legs shaking around him, with that tight knot beginning to form deep within your core.

Levi felt you tightening up around him and gripped onto your hips tighter, holding you in place as he continued to drive his cock up into you, cursing to himself as he felt you gushing around him, only getting closer to his own edge when he heard how hard you were trying to keep quiet.

"Gonna cum into that pretty pussy of yours," he whispered in between breaths. He was getting close and it was driving him through the roof with how many times he had been edged that night. "That's what you wanted, yeah?"

Upon hearing your muffled 'mhm', Levi grit his teeth and slammed into you one final time, letting out a quiet guttural groan as he shot his load into you, with you gasping as you felt his cock twitching deep within you, coating your insides with his seed.

He rested his forehead against yours as he took deep breaths to stabilize himself again, feeling his cum dripping out the side of your pussy and down his cock again. The suit was going to get dirty no matter what he did now. He knew he'd have to get out of this photoshoot and make up some excuse to go home.

Levi finally pulled away, looking into your eyes with an exasperated look before grumbling,

"You're buying me a new suit."

#: @levisbrat25 @moonmalice @cathybarn @tclbts @faverec @bejewelledd @sad-darksoul @ackermendick @aomi04 @apolloshaiku @laraackerman @pulpolicia @raenacreates @nube55 @roseofdarknessblog @noctemys @sixpennydame @dumbdollyx @heichoucleanfreak @svftackerman @catskze @nixie-writes-aot @la-undercover-latina @v4mp-wife @darkstarlight82 @professorweezy @braunsbabe @lovedbylevi @meltingforthatackerman @chocoyanchan @issacovegx @captainleviswifee @mrsmiagreer @dizzyandkokoo @youre-ackermine @starrylevi join my taglist!

#i took way too long just to find an image to attach #someone end me #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi smut #n.sfw #levi heichou x reader #captain levi x reader #levi #levi ackerman #levi heichou #captain levi #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyoujin #snk

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tearskillstardust · 4 months

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hi! if requests are still open, could you write about wanderer, neuvillette, and wriothesley with an s/o that likes cute things-Specifically plushies, figurines, and stuff? But the s/o is usually someone more mature so it would be surprising for them to love such cute things. Love your account and you have some of my favorite characterization ❣️Happy holidays!

✎ MIRACULOUS LADYBUG LOVE ... wriothesley, neuvillette, wanderer, xiao

— gn!reader, modern! au with wanderer and xiao, wriothesley is a bit... , no tw!

📬 XIAO

a lover of decent mundanity and simplicity, xiao admires your ability and fondness for adorning yourself and your workplace and home with simple items that go easy on the eyes. warm shades of brown and lovelier shades of pastel greens shade the walls, and every aesthetic is maintained with utmost care as though it wasn't as much a home as it was a shrine for you. he always admires your will and ability to keep the place tidy at all times, so when he was sifting through old clothes and deciding what needed to be thrown out, and came across a whole stash of small plushies and a box of figurines, he almost experienced brain freeze.

he turned the figurines over and over again before it struck him that these were the same characters you had keychains of. his jade-shaped eyes scanned over your box of possessions, trying to understand whether these belonged to you or your little sister qiqi. confusedly, his mind wanders to the fact that some of your most treasured possessions were all pearl necklaces and laces of silk—all expensive and sophisticated materials as gifts from him and personal choices in accord with your tastes. unfortunately, he concludes that these plushies and figurines must belong to qiqi, and that little keychain might be qiqi's little gift for you.

which led him to this, both the boxes lying on the floor of the hall as the young girl innocently sifted through the fluff figures with sparkling eyes full of curiosity and you stared quietly at him from across the sofa, quietly waiting for him to respond.

'but,' he trailed off, both anxious and extremely disappointed that he gave your favourite items away to qiqi. both of you knew that you wouldn't ever accept those items back at the cost of taking those away from your little sister. 'i really didn't know, i'm so sorry,'

his ashamed gaze turned from qiqi to you, 'may i... buy you some more?'

you passed him a quiet look. 'you must, anyways.'

he smiled gently before coming to your side and hugging your stiffer figure, relaxing when your shoulders lay smug against his frame. he gently swayed to the side and brought you down on the sofa, smiling when your sulky gaze met his. 'of course, i must. if you'd be willing though to let me into your personal space and let me know about your interests more, then i would be able to know you better, no?'

you stared thoughtfully at him for a moment before giving in to his gentleness and smiling, 'alright. i'm sorry for keeping things hidden,'

he smiled quietly, 'i enjoy miraculous ladybug too, by the way,'

📬 WANDERER

wanderer tried his best to hold that smile back; trust him, he really did.

but when you sat there with that small plushie as you poured your heart out to the tiny thing, he couldn't help but listen in, curious perhaps that he was troubling you in any manner. but when you whined to the thing about how your 'stupid' little boyfriend simply wouldn't be willing to share your interest in cartoons and franchises of these nature, he almost wanted to topple over and laugh.

wise of disposition and forever fresh, you were always someone he personally perceived as having high class and expensive tastes. not to say that liking cartoons was stupid, hell no, he loved bungou stray dogs especially that bastard of a man dazai, and would have been more than willing to bond with you over it; but to think that he never brought it up because he thought you would never like them? he wanted to laugh, but listened on to your innocent rant.

'he would laugh if i admitted to liking you,' you muttered, fixing the little ear of the chat noir plushie, looking as though you were deep in thought about philosophy when you were in reality thinking about how to be honest about your tastes to your boyfriend.

he smirked before finally leaning against the doorframe, letting himself come into your view as you turned abruptly, like a deer caught amidst flashlights.

you stared. he smiled.

'what's up?' he asked casually, eyebrows raising to address the fluffball in your hands. 'looks like you, honestly. a hot little cat.'

you turned embarrassed, quickly pushing the plushie underneath the covers before laughing awkwardly, 'what? haha, nope, nothing like what you think. back from work?'

he raised a brow, 'work? we're in college, my lady.'

your eyes widened, 'oh, oh! yeah!' you said and smiled awkwardly, trying to relax but his gaze told you he had heard everything.

smiling with a hint of mischief he strolled to settle next to you on the bed, arm leaning against a cushion as he pulled the plushie out from your grasp. 'it's pretty cute, you know. and also,'

he leaned in suddenly, pulling you down closer to his mouth, making your eyes widen, 'i'd make a better chat noir, don't you think? how about we try that someday?', then licking his lips, 'better than talking to a ball of cotton, i'd believe.'

📬 NEUVILLETTE

the iudex is a man of utmost discipline and firmly believes in up keeping one's honour at the work place, in lieu of the many dedicated people he has met when he was trying to understand human civilization. as such, hence, he doesn't take great pride in quietly and very discreetly asking you to come over to his office one day when he was feeling down after a trial, asking you to bring the cookies you had made yesterday along with you.

so when he doesn't get your presence but rather a parcel with his name instead, he really isn't sure on what he is supposed to be doing. he knows you have sent it and that you must be busy with duty. but he didn't really want those cookies... he just wanted to talk to you and put his heart to peace about the sentence and let himself be relieved. now that you weren't there, what's the point of the cookies?

after keeping it aside it is when the dragon's sharp eyes fall on the small white peeking out from underneath a small hole at the side, something that appeared to be a note of sorts. fair enough, he assumes and mentally apologizes to you as though you could hear him. you've never really been the type to let anyone's request lay to waste, anyways; he thinks quietly as he tears the box open with a hint of impatience.

and when he realizes that what he thought to be a note was actually an otter plushie having a keychain in its hands symbolic of the eagle batch you always wore, he almost choked on his breath. quickly pushing the plushie back in he blushed deep red and furiously looked around his office to ensure nobody was there before he pulled the little thing out and kept it in front of him.

and then sat in front of it himself, as though interrogating the tiny thing.

and if neuvillette was to stare more, the plushie would start blinking, he was certain at one point. sighing, he spoke then, poured his heart out as though it was you next to him and not the tiny cotton ball. and when he completes it's almost surprising to him how easy it was for him to pour everything out, and how convenient that no one walked in on him in so embarrassing a state—unaware that clorinde who had heard him had already prevented anyone from entering and refrained from listening on herself—it almost convinces him to ask you if he can permanently keep the doll with himself, but then comes the question—why would you have something like this on you?

neuvillette had a scarcity of time, yes, but there was no lack of money or even the freedom to use it, you always had money at your disposal. to think that somebody as classy as you would be fond of such a cute little thing almost made him blush all over again, but refraining from letting himself get ahead, he thinks again—perhaps not, he thinks. maybe that's her friends' or maybe navia's, who was fonder of collecting such things and was also your good friend.

so when you laugh gently like that when he questions the choice of parcelling, he is left confused until you speak up again.

'no silly! that's mine! i really wanted to share it with you,' you said, taking the plushie out of his hands and into your softer ones as you fondly fixed its ear, 'but you never have the time to discuss things like these.'

catching the undertone of sadness he quickly jolts from his trance, 'should i take some time off this sunday? there have been few cases recently and there's only so little paperwork left.'

you smile brightly, 'oh, can you? that's amazing! i've always wanted to go the riverbank we went to when you confessed, remember?' you ask, turning toward him to find him smiling fondly at you, gaze soft with pure love.

'of course, i do, mon cherie. even more, i remember your bright smile from that fateful evening. let's go there this week,'

and when you excitedly hug him and he hugs you back, he really means it with all his heart and soul.

📬 WRIOTHESELY

used as the duke is to more mature and sophisticated displays of innocence, such as the quiet fluttering of your eyelashes when he towers over you, or when you shyly hide behind your hand fan when he makes another teasing joke, he is certainly in for a surprise when he decides to stay in longer than usual on one winter night, all without your knowledge.

reading the report as he sat next to the fireplace, the illumination from the fireplace danced all over the pages, distracting him from the texts. he had already read the same page at least thrice now, completely unable to take his mind off of your thoughts, wondering what you must be up to right now. sighing gently he slammed it down back on the table. curse you for being so tempting, he thinks before rising, calling your name out as he leaves his room.

but when no answer comes back to him, ringing gently on the wind like a welcomed wind chime or the fluttering of leaves, his feet carry themselves almost anxiously towards the bedroom. he had promised he would spend some time with you in the night, but when the realizations dawns upon him, he winces slightly.

as he enters the bedroom slowly, steps quiet as he invaded, his curious gaze fell upon your form hidden from sight by the blanket. tilting his gaze slightly he softly walked over to you, gently trying to pry the blanket off from your head so you can breathe without waking you up. but when he gently pulls the covers down and spots the small pink plushie cushioning your side as you hugged it tight, he resists the urge to laugh.

very well, he supposes, climbing next to you as he picks a book to read from the nightstand, warm hand gently planting itself against your forehead in a protective gesture. he undoubtedly recognizes the plushie—it's the one sigewienne had secretly planted inside his gift box for your birthday, and one you had giggled at and placed deep inside the cupboard.

'don't you like these?' he asked, smiling almost teasingly, had you not known any better. you shook your head then, 'not really,'

but he didn't really have to go by your words spoken so long ago. rest assured you'll find a whole stash of these stacking over one another over the span of a month, and should you only accept them quietly, all you should know is that he may or may not even sneak one similar to him into the stash, smiling with unrestrained mischief, and with slight impatience to see it wrapped between your thighs.

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bloodynereid · 5 months

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Tinsel, Gold and Dragons

(modern au!)

pairings: rhaenyra targaryen x fem! reader, past rhaenyra x alicent

tw: kissing, alicent bashing, alcohol consumption, talk about hooking up, hatred of the holiday season??

description: You were wondering how the hell this family had so many attractive people. Rhaenyra’s brain was currently not computing, she was pretty sure this was called bisexual panic but it had never really happened to her in real life before.

a/n: hiii hope you enjoy this little fic i randomly wrote last night. i've been kind of missing just writing stuff that isn't requests so hopefully this is still ok haha. ALSO i'm 100% an alicent defender, she's the loml so just remember that a lot of this is from rhaenyra's pov and not my own thoughts about her character. anyways hope you enjoy this and happy holidays <3 (might write a part 2 at some point but who knows?)

Rhaenyra Targaryen never liked the holiday season. After her mother died things just got worse and the boring parties she was always subjected to only got more boring. The welcome reprieve of baking gingerbread in the kitchen with her mom was gone in seconds and now holidays just reminded her of everything she had lost.

This year’s party was going to be the worst one by a long shot. Rhaenyra had to deal with Alicent fucking Hightower - oh sorry Targaryen now… that was something she still hadn’t accepted. I mean how do you even cope when your best friend suddenly starts fucking your dad in secret, gets pregnant, marries him and then proceeds to act like she’s Virgin fucking Mary?

The answer is with a lot of scotch, stupid hookups and long hours studying. She was desperate to get her law degree so she could finally do something and it also meant she could start working at her uncle’s law firm.

Currently though she was stuck in her father’s house whilst her new toddler half-brother threw temper tantrums and broke anything in his vicinity.

It was Christmas Eve and Viserys had nearly decided to cancel the annual Christmas party, in favor of “family bonding” but Alicent had somehow convinced him to keep it on. Rhaenyra did not want to think about what she had done to convince him. She nearly gagged at the mere idea of it.

Smoothing out the material of the dark red dress with a slightly higher slit than what would be considered appropriate, Rhaenyra let out an audible sound of satisfaction. She looked fucking hot. Plus Alicent would freak when she saw it, perfect.

Once upon a time Alicent Hightower had been her best friend, and probably something more but now… all that Rhaenyra could muster up for her is a cold chill of utter hate and rage.

Rhaenyra was thrown out of her thoughts when her phone called out the familiar ringtone that belonged to her uncle.

“Daemon… you do know that people can text now don’t you?”

“Haha, you can call me old all you want but you might regret it when I don’t tell you how I’m about to save you tonight.”

“Please tell me you found a way to make them all die fiery deaths.”

“Nothing as dramatic as that but I assure you it’s still the perfect escape.”

“Are you going to leave me in suspense while I endure this torture or…”

“Fine, you spoiled princess. We’re having a little party at the firm and since you’re coming to work here soon…”

“You didn’t.”

“But I did.”

“Fuck off. You mean I can actually leave this party.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t already.”

“You’re my savior.”

“Knight in shining armor and all that. Just remember to get me a good present this year.”

“When do I ever disappoint you?”

“There is also another surprise waiting for you when you get here.”

“Daemon… what have you done?”

“Nothing. There’s just someone I think you should meet.”

“Oh God, maybe I won’t go.”

“You know you’re too desperate not to, plus she’s your age so you won’t have to deal with boring old men like me.”

“She’s a she?”

Rhaenyra perked up, she hadn’t had a date in a while and ever since Alicent she hadn’t even tried to step her foot back into that pool. A string of meaningless hookups with men had done nothing to quell the heartbreak side of the whole situation. This would probably be good for her.

“Yes. So I guess that means you’re coming?”

“Obviously.”

“Should I send a car over?”

“Don’t bother, I’ll just drive Syrax.” Syrax was a birthday present from Daemon, a beautiful and subtly gold car that drove like a dream.

“Ok, see you soon Nyra.”

“Bye, Uncle.”

Rhaenyra sped through the streets of King’s Landing in the comfortable leather seat of her car. The bright Christmas lights that adorned the shops made a bright smile appear on her face. She may hate the holidays but at least the lights and food were incredible.

She arrived at the tall building that held Caraxes, Daemon’s law firm and named after his first dog but no one needed to know that. She gave her name to the security guard before parking the car in one of the empty spaces.

Her red dress fluttered in the cold breeze as she waited for the elevator to open. The firm was located on the 60th floor, the penthouse. Rhaenyra always loved being up high so the height was never a problem. What was annoying was how long it took her to actually get up there.

When the elevator doors finally opened at the correct floor, loud Christmas music echoed through the floor and she could clearly hear cheers coming from the area close to Daemon’s office.

Since the secretary was nowhere to be seen, Rhaenyra walked the now familiar route towards her uncle’s office. Weaving through a variety of cubicles she found a large Christmas tree and a small bar had been set up outside her uncle’s office.

“NYRA!” A loud voice that corresponded to her uncle slurred out and his tall frame ambled towards her. Within moments she was suddenly caught in a warm embrace and she returned the hug with her smaller arms wrapping around his torso.

“When did you have time to get this drunk, uncle?” Rhaenyra asked when they finally parted.

“Oh you think this is drunk, darling. Don’t you remember me at that New Year’s-”

“Andddd I’m going to stop you right there. I still get trauma flashbacks.”

“I must say, you look absolutely stunning Nyra. I’m sure our dear Alicent flipped when she saw you.”

“You should have seen her face when I told her I was going to unfortunately not attend her party.” Rhaenyra and Daemon shared a laugh before Daemon spotted someone in the crowd and a smirk appeared on his face.

“Y/N! I have someone you should meet.”

Rhaenyra followed Daemon’s line of sight and found the most beautiful woman she had probably ever seen. You were wearing a dark blue floor length dress which was held up with spaghetti straps. A pashmina scarf looped around your elbows and you had a smile on your face as you approached the two of them.

“You summoned me?” You asked when you finished weaving through the sea of people.

“Well yes, I wanted you to meet my niece. Rhaenyra this is Y/N, our newest and most promising associate.”

“Pleasure to meet you.” You said as you offered a hand to the stunning silver haired woman. You were wondering how the hell this family had so many attractive people. Rhaenyra’s brain was currently not computing, she was pretty sure this was called bisexual panic but it had never really happened to her in real life before.

“I-uh, nice to meet you too.” Rhaenyra stuttered out as she took Y/N’s hand and shook it.

“Well I’ll leave you two to it.” Daemon said with a conspiring tone in his voice before he disappeared into the crowd.

“So… Daemon’s been singing your merits all over the office for a while now so I think I have an unfair advantage here.”

“Oh God, what has he been saying?” Rhaenyra groaned out as she dramatically swept a hand over her hair.

“Nothing bad, I promise. You’re getting your law degree at The Citadel, right?”

“Yup.”

“How’s that? I was debating going there for a while but ended up going to Oxford instead.”

“It's hell but worth it, I hope.”

“I totally get that, Oxford was like medieval torture but I’m happy it landed me in this place.” You said as you swept a hand in the direction of the office space.

“Wait, how old are you?” Rhaenyra suddenly asked before her face contorted in embarrassment. “Shit, that was rude, sorry.”

“Ha don’t worry, I get that all the time. I’m 25.”

“24.” Rhaenyra offered back in solidarity.

“We’re basically the same age then.” You said with a wink before you took a sip of the amber liquid in the glass tumbler.

“Probably why Daemon shoved us in this little corner together.”

“I’m for one glad to be stuck in this little corner with you.” You said as you smirked in Rhaenyra’s direction. A light blush started to dust Rhaenyra’s cheeks.

“I’m glad too, but I’m desperate for a drink. This week has been hell.”

“You don’t like the holidays either?”

“Hate them.”

“We have something else in common after all.”

You spent the rest of the party sitting next to Rhaenyra in Daemon’s office. You drank sparingly, not wanting to be drunk since Rhaenyra needed to drive back and you didn’t want to act like a fool in front of her.

Rhaenyra felt like this was the first time in years that she felt truly happy. It was nice just to talk and gossip and be free to actually be herself. With Alicent it felt like she was walking on eggshells before the incident and now it was near impossible to be in the same room alone with her. But with Y/N…

At first, Rhaenyra went into this wanting just to have a quick hookup but those hours spent talking or maybe it was the alcohol that got to her head but she decided she deserved something better. She deserved someone better.

“Do you need a ride home?” Rhaenyra asked when people started to mill out of the party. Y/N turned to her in surprise before a gentle smile lit up her face.

“It wouldn’t be any trouble?”

“Not at all, but don’t think this is some kind of selfless act - maybe I just want to spend more time with you.”

“Well, we just have to indulge in your selfish desires don’t we?” You said with a twinkle in your eyes and a laugh on your tongue.

“You have no idea the scope of my selfish desires.”

“I would like to find out…”

Rhaenyra basically dragged you down to her car after that little remark. As she drove through the streets of King’s Landing, you took a leap of blind faith (or maybe love) by gripping the hand that lay between the two of you. Rhaenyra instantly threaded her fingers through yours and you spied a small smile making its way to her face.

Once she pulled up in front of your apartment building Rhaenyra bit her lip and turned to look at you - still completely in awe of how pretty you are.

“We arrived.”

“That we did.”

“Well…”

“Well… do you uh-”

“Do I what?” Rhaenyra said as she wiggled her eyebrows.

“Rhae… I- do you want to come up?”

“Only if we can have a date tomorrow.”

“It’s Christmas Day.”

“I’ll think of something.”

“Hmm… deal.” You said as a giddy smile graced your lips. Suddenly the feeling of soft lips meeting against yours startled you out of your reverie and you jumped to thread your fingers through her silky hair.

“You are so beautiful.” Rhaenyra mumbled against your lips before slipping her tongue to delicately stroke yours. It seemed impossible that your smile could widen even more but it did.

“Mmm, says you. You fucking goddess.” You said when you both finally pulled away. Panting and grinning like idiots.

“This is certainly turning out to be a very merry Christmas.”

“Ho ho ho.”

rhaenyra is an bisexual icon just like her uncle and we love her for it !!

#rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra #rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra is a bisexual icon.#rhaenyra targaryen x reader #rhaenyra x fem!reader #alicent hightower #daemon targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #game of thrones #hotd x reader #hotd modern au #modern au #house of the dragon x reader #got #syrax #caraxes #viserys targaryen

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cartierre · 1 year

Text

ALL MY NIGHT | cn

SOCIAL MEDIA!AU clément novalak x fem!reader

side note: i'm not too familiar with clement and marcus but i am trying my best to portray them as accurately as possible. don't come for me if their characters aren't what you might've expected, i'm still new to f2 (or in marcus' case indycar) so bare with me.

♡ liked by clementnovalak, dennis_hauger, marcusarmstrong and 5,490 others

tagged: clementnovalak, dennis_hauger, landonorris

yourusername i don't trust my decisions i make after midnight

view all 39 comments

user1 girl same. no one should be held accountable for what they do past midnight on a night out

marcusarmstrong so you're hanging out with my friends without me ⤷ yourusername sucks to be you

user2 i love how y/n just wormed herself into marcus' friend group ⤷ user3 yeah but them hanging out together without him? kind of weird... ⤷ user4 girl maybe he just wasn't available that night? start using that brain of yours

clementnovalak should i also not trust your decisions after midnight? ⤷ yourusername depends what exact decision you mean ⤷ clementnovalak i think you know what i mean...

user5 the sexual tension between y/n and clem just keeps growing ⤷ user6 they're so bad at hiding. watch one screaming meals episode with y/n and even the blind can see the longing stares they exchange

♡ liked by clementnovalak, felipedrugovich, marcusarmstrong and 4,687 others

tagged: clementnovalak, marcusarmstrong

yourusername yk what us three together means? new episode screaming meals with special guest moi out now!

view all 31 comments

user7 i love it when y/n joins the podcast. she's such a fresh breath of air ⤷ user8 i don't understand why she's on there tho. just because she's friends with marcus? she literally has nothing to do with the motosport world except being friends with some drivers ⤷ user9 go cry me a river

clementnovalak the most special guest ⤷ yourusername obviously. i'm funny, i'm smart, i'm sexy. call me an allrounder.

user10 y/n being back on the podcast means new material on how her and clem are either dating or just painfully in love with each other (or both, probably both)

user11 james not being included in the pictures :/ ⤷ yourusername he was so kind to take the pictures :) ⤷ jamesharveyblair where are my credits?

♡ liked by clementnovalak, jamesharveyblair, marcusarmstrong and 6,003 others

yourusername soft launch because you're apparently all detectives

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user12 why are you still hiding him as if we wouldn't know it's clem ⤷ user13 she's a little overdramatic i guess

marcusarmstrong come on you two didn't even try hiding before what's up with that now ⤷ yourusername marcus, i was a theatre kid. i speak drama fluently. you should know that by now ⤷ clementnovalak even i know that by now ⤷ marcusarmstrong look at you two ganging up on me

user14 "how obvious do you want to be?" clem and y/n: "yes"

user15 am i supposed to be surprised now?

♡ liked by clementnovalak, juanmanuel, marcusarmstrong and 6,740 others

tagged: clementnovalak

yourusername you ruined the fun, but here are the pictures anway

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user16 y/n being salty because her soft launch was a fail is hilarious ⤷ user17 it's kind of childish ⤷ user18 dude, i don't think she's taking it as serious as she makes it look like. that's her humour

marcusarmstrong took you long enough ;) also excuse me but the last picture? i don't want to see a whole porn with my two best friends ⤷ yourusername i had a whole soft launch plan planned out with posts ⤷ marcusarmstrong it is what it is, i guess

clementnovalak ❤️️❤️️ ⤷ yourusername don't heart me, you laughed at me when i was crying over my fail

♡ liked by yourusername, clementnovalak, marcusarmstrong and 7,920 others

tagged: yourusername, clementnovalak

screamingmeals Welcome to the renewed Clement Novalak's and Y/n Y/L/N's Wine Corner.

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yourusername i feel honoured to be officially a part of the screaming meals squad ⤷ marcusarmstrong you've kinda always been there anyway ⤷ yourusername but now i have my own section! ⤷ clementnovalak shared section* ⤷ yourusername not for long

user19 they finally realised y/n's to funny to not fully include her in the podcast

user20 quadrant is getting some serious competition now that y/n has joined the screaming meals squad for real! ⤷ user21 okay but now i need a collab between the eight of them

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fairyyarchive · 8 months

Note

hey, can u write Armin x afab!reader, Armin being a teasy!dom af

hi! i'm sorry this so long to complete, i have been incredibly swamped with life, so writing has not come easy to me. this is also my first time writing smut, so pls keep that in mind lol. a long time coming, so please enjoy!

study

college au, established relationship, teasy!soft dom armin x lowkey bratty reader

content: teasing, afab!reader, pet names (baby, sweetheart, love, pretty, good girl, pretty girl), edging, slight overstim, oral (f receiving), fingering

A sunny spring afternoon with your boyfriend should have been spent on a cute date, reading in the park or getting lunch together. You could be doing this, of course, if it wasn’t for the 89.5% in your history class and the final you had next week to make it up. Instead, you were stuck inside up your elbows in homework.

Not that you minded spending time with Armin this way, quite the opposite actually as he was a wonderful study partner and always willing to help you freshen up on topics discussed in lectures that you couldn’t make it to (or that you didn’t remember). As you finished the first of many assignments, you threw your head back with a groan. “I should just drop out. Learn to knit sweaters on Etsy or something,” you pouted.

“That bad huh?” Armin laughed, turning from his own laptop to face you. The lofi background on the tv played relaxing beats as you questioned the entirety of your academic career.

“I think my brain is melting. And I’ve only done one. One! And no one’s even kissed me or told me how great I’m doing, how ever will I go on?” You dramatically laid your hand on your forehead, batting your eyelashes at your boyfriend. He laughed, placing a soft kiss on your right cheek. Then your left, then your lips. You smiled, grateful for the momentary bliss from the headache of studying. Armin’s face then lit up the way it does when he’s solved a long equation.

“Maybe now I can carry on… Only with the motivation of my sweet sweet boy,” you dramatically flopped backward, half draped in his lap. It truly wasn’t that difficult, but the familiar end-of-semester burnout had your brain feeling like overcooked ramen noodles.

Armin chuckled at your theatrics, ever patient and sweet. “Alright, how about for every question you answer on the next study guide, I’ll give you a kiss?” he suggested.

You turned your head upward to face your boyfriend, spider-man style. “Every question on this 50 question study guide gets me a kiss?” you confirmed.

“Well… Maybe we can work out a system since it’s so long,” your eyes lit up, “but only if you’re a good girl for me and get the whole thing done, okay?” a slight rosy tint dusting his cheeks. He knew you loved when he talked like that, and he quickly learned that praise was a good motivator, to say the least. He loved it especially when it pulled such cute reactions from you, but you couldn’t help but get a little shy when he told you what to do.

“Okay got it, focus, study, kisses,” you nodded. You settled with your back against his chest, pulling your laptop closer. You got comfy, opening the dreaded history study guide and all the necessary materials to complete it.

As promised, once the first short answer question was complete Armin planted a kiss on your forehead, and a bonus one on your shoulder. Your little exchange continued as you completed more questions, finally halfway done with it. “See? You’re doing so well baby, already halfway done,” he ran his hands up and down your arms soothingly, tilting your chin to the side to allow him access to kiss your neck. “I’m proud of you,” he softly spoke against your skin, kissing you gently. You sighed, easily relaxing to his touch. For a brief moment, you wondered if you heard another tone in his voice, but maybe it was just the haze in your mind from Armin’s praise.

Your focus returned to your work, scrolling through notes to find answers, being rewarded with a little peck on your neck, your lips, your forehead. A particularly long question had Armin’s hands beginning to wander as you ran through your materials, fingers feather-light as he slipped them under the hem of your hoodie. You gasped instinctively, your focus broken briefly. “Ah, focus sweetheart,” he chided, stopping his movements. You huffed, reluctantly typing answers into the doc. Armin had a tendency to tease, knowing he could draw this out as long as he wanted.

You blinked, clearing your head from the gutter before continuing to type, determined to finish the last ten questions. You groaned internally upon seeing the next one was rather long as well, opening a new tab to begin researching. Armin’s hands returned to rest just under the hem of your hoodie. One hand gently slid its way up your torso, fingertips featherlight as he traced them along the swell of your breast. You shifted in your spot on his lap, doing your best to ignore the growing bulge that pressed into your backside.

Armin traced the curve of your breasts, taking his time to draw your body to memory. His cool fingers grazed your nipples, the touch so sensitive it sent a chill through you. Your body warmed as he continued his teasing movements, caressing your breasts, rubbing circles around your nipples, taking his time unraveling you as he watched your focus crumble.

Armin’s hand continued gently pinching and rubbing your nipples as his other began to slowly drift down, thumb dipping under the hem of your shorts. As it was clearly becoming impossible for you to finish this assignment, you attempted to get away with putting your laptop to the side, but Armin took it from your hands and placed it next to you, still within your reach for use. “Don’t make me repeat myself sweetheart, you only get rewarded if you keep working,” his voice slid deeper - gently commanding. You knew you were likely testing his patience a bit, but it was just so hard to focus and, really, he was being to you by not letting you take a break. And yet.

“Okay, okay, I’ll finish it this time,” you sighed, pouting in an attempt to make him give in.

“Good girl,” he smiled, satisfied. When you refocused, Armin kept his word, bringing one hand to your nipples once again as the other found its way into your shorts. The lightest of touches on the outside of your panties sent a shudder from you, your hips instinctively twitching. Armin’s fingers pressed gently, rubbing your slit up and down at an agonizingly slow pace, not bothering to move your panties yet.

Your diligence was rewarded with what Armin knew you craved, his fingers pressing into you harder, a hidden strength that drove you crazy when you saw it. He rubbed circles on your clit through your panties, wetness campening the soft cotton. Your concentration phased in and out, shifting from the dull feeling of pleasure warming your abdomen to (finally, finally) the second to last question. Your sighs must have become pitiful as you heard the honey-dripped sound of your boyfriend’s laugh. “You wanna tell me something sweetheart?” His tone drenched in condescending care.

“No, I want you to touch me,” your cheeks burned. He had to pull the words out of you.

“I am touching you, pretty girl,” his smile was so warm and blue eyes so soft, you’d think he was really asking to help. He leaned down, speaking softly into your ear, “I’m not gonna let you finish until that homework is done, so I suggest you quiet down,” he nipped at your neck, “and get to work.” His words sent a shiver down your spine and you nodded, mustering what mental strength you had to explain the political structures of… somewhere.

Armin’s fingers slipped into your panties, dipping into you and spreading you open. He rubbed your clit with practiced precision, knowing just how to ease you into being edged. Allowing you to feel so good, so blissful, so easy to convince you that you’ll get to finish – before taking it away completely. His middle finger flicked your clit, pinching lightly. The buzz in your head was driving you mad, the arousal burning through you. With a half-assed last answer, you snapped your laptop shut, physically restraining yourself from throwing it on the floor. Armin’s ministrations slowed to a lazy pace, a smug smile sat on his lips. “You done?” he asked, patient as ever.

“Mhm, all done and complete and turned in and all that,” you stumbled slightly, turning around to straddle his lap. Armin’s dominant demeanor faltered ever so subtly and you smirked - he was almost always all talk until you were sitting pretty on his lap, your warm center on the bulge you could so clearly see through his sweatpants.

Armin was easy to turn the tables on, so naturally it took you by surprise when his eyes glinted with something that excited you, using his lean muscles to flip your positions, pinning you beneath him. “Baby…” Oh there it was, that chastising tone that meant you were in for it. “Did I say you could get on top?” He lazily caressed the plush of the inside of your thighs, avoiding where you so desperately needed him to touch you.

“No…” You bit your lip.

“And I always thought you were so good at following the rules baby, aren’t you my good girl?” Armin teased, slipping your shorts and panties down your legs. He trailed pecks up the inside of your thigh, parting your legs as he went. You gasped at the contact, nodding your head and biting your lip in anticipation. Your hands traveled to grip your boyfriend’s soft hair and guide him into you, only for him to stop you by grabbing your wrists. He brought them to rest above your head, lips traveling back up to mouth at your neck. “Then you better listen this time, and keep those hands right there ‘till I tell you,” he grasped your jaw, tilting your face toward him gently, “got it love?”

“Uh huh,” you breathed, stunned and absolutely aroused at his sense of command. Armin’s shift in demeanor made his blue eyes darken, his muscles flex and a hunger from within him that made him want to simply devour you.

“There’s my good girl,” his warm smile returned, and you’d almost believe he was going to give you everything you wanted. Armin returned to his place between your legs, burying his face in the wet warmth between your thighs. He used his soft, flat tongue to lick a stripe up through your center. You groaned as he used the tip of his tongue to flick your clit, arching your back and pushing yourself closer to him. You felt him smile against you, “Yeah? That feel good baby?”

“Oh god, yes,” you whined. He rewarded you by spreading you apart with his fingers, settling his tongue against your clit and making you sigh once again. His soft touches and sweet sinful tongue gathered a rhythm that made your head spin, figure eights on your clit spreading the wetness that just couldn’t stop as his fingers worked nimbly to unravel you from the inside. The lofi background on the TV muffled as the room filled with the sinful wet sounds coming from you, your heavy breathing and needy gasps.

“Ahh, baby I’m so close... Oh, fuck,” you gasped, hips grinding against his face as his fingers stroked just the right place inside you. The familiar sparks traveled through your body, the feeling building to its peak once more, so very close to tipping over until – it stopped. Armin’s fingers left you feeling empty, his mouth leaving your poor, swollen pink clit unsatisfied and sensitive. “A-armin! Please, please, c’mon I was so close,” you nearly cried, sitting up to look at him. Your prayers, however, were answered as he sat back to pull down his sweatpants and boxers and align his hips to yours.

“You’ve been so - “ you felt just the tip push past your lips, absolutely drenched in your own juices, “so good for me baby.” You felt him slowly, so slowly, finally slide his cock into you, feeling every long-awaited inch fill you. You nearly creamed on the spot, before even feeling the torturous way he began to thrust his hips. In, out, the most desperate whimpers left your lips as he praised you. “You’re so good, my pretty girl, so good at letting me edge you as much as I want,” the prettiest words purred from his lips and only aroused you more as your orgasm threatened to rip you in two. His voice, his cock, the delicious rhythm that he rubbed your clit at, everything was so good and so much that sparks shot through you, setting your entire body ablaze.

“Fuck - I’m gonna - “ you could hardly gasp out the words in between breathless moans as it hit you, waves of fire rolling through you. Armin thrusted into you, hitting your sweet spot at a delicious pace as he fucked you through your orgasm, his pants and groans getting higher as his ow orgasm built.

“ ‘m close baby, you feel so good, you came so well for me pretty girl,” his hands gripped your hips. The slam of his cock into you as he fucked you stupid sent shocks of pleasure and dull pain through you. Your whole body was shaking, your hips sore as Armin’s thrusts became sloppier and his groans became needier.

“Cum baby, want you to cum in me, oh fuck, please,” you begged, your words barely uttered through your moans as your second orgasm sent white hot pleasure coursing through your limbs.

“Fuck, yeah I’ll cum in you baby, I - “ Armin’s thrusts became uneven, hitting you one, two, three times making you see stars, the cum dripping from your second orgasm slick and messy around his cock. Your sweet words and downright sinful noises sent your sweet boyfriend over the edge, his hips stuttering as you felt his cock pulsing deep inside you. A mix of curses and praises flew between the two of you as you came down, bodies satiated and sweaty as you calmed your breathing.

You lay together, clothes long discarded and only underwear and a t-shirt (Armin’s t-shirt) on. Your head rested on his chest as Armin caressed your hair, kissing your forehead softly. You sighed, breathing in his scent deeply and settling into him to drift off into a nap.

Hope that study guide comes in handy.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊

☆.。. Masterlist

☆.。. Requests

#attack on titan #attack on titan fanfiction #aot smut #aot x reader #armin arlert smut #armin arlert x reader #armin arlert x you #armin x reader #armin smut #attack on titan smut #snk x reader

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fayes-fics · 8 months

Text

It Had To Be You: Chapter 7 - A Thousand Flowers Could Bloom

Masterpost PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU

Summary: It was inevitably going to happen...

artwork credit @colettebronte

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, mild dom/sub undertones, frottage, dirty talk, light hair pulling and biting, vaginal sex.

Word Count: 4.3k (longest chapter to date, haha, is anyone surprised..)

Authors Note: A multi-chapter modern rom-com retelling of When Harry Met Sally. In this chapter, passions between Benedict and reader finally boil over. Yup, yup, the movie fades to black on the sex scene... I am not lolol. Please skip this chapter if you want to keep your reading PG-13/12A rated. There is no real plot here. Sorry it has taken me so long to write this; I got so nervous. Still not sure I like this very much. Thanks to ColetteBronte for the read through. Anyway, I hope you enjoy <3

It's a blur as the kiss deepens; Benedict’s tongue glances yours, a tentative swipe before entwining. Something sweeps through your being, throwing you overboard, tossing you into a tsunami wave, your mind reeling as your hands stay limp by your side, still taken by surprise this is happening.

“Ben,” you stutter breathlessly when he withdraws fractionally.

“Don’t,” he growls, “don't you dare use that big brain of yours; just shut up.” His thumb is heavy on your cheek as he cups your jaw. “Just shut the fuck up for once in your bloody life.”

So, for once, you do just that. Letting your hands do the talking, looping around his neck to pull him back to you. That is the permission he needs, and suddenly, you are being spun around and pressed into your own hallway wall, him bearing the whole length of his being into you. You feel like you are drowning in him. He is all you can see, smell, and breathe.

Then, he obliterates every thought you have. Hunching down mid-kiss, he insinuates a warm thigh between your knees. Then he stands up straight, the meat of his substantial quad muscle snagging the seam of your sleep shorts, your clit mashed into your public bone, throbbing.

You mumble a curse into his mouth as his fingers locate the tab on your hoodie. The only sound is the slow release of the zip as he tugs it down and your own shallow panting over his lips as he does so. He smiles dangerously as the material parts, dropping it off your shoulders to the floor so you stand in tiny shorts and a white vest.

There is a noise in the back of his throat as his eyes sweep down briefly, lingering on your peaked nipples, then slender fingers wrap around the crest of your hipbones and flex, indicating he wants you to move. To ride the thigh that he has you dangling upon, up on your tiptoes.

“Use me,” he mutters like velvet. “Go ahead.”

“I….” You seem almost incapable of speech, too strung out on the tidal wave of chemicals racing around your body. “…need sex, please,” aware it sounds reedy.

He unwinds your hands from around his neck and pins them to the wall at shoulder height.

“Ride my leg, and then we will have sex,” he orders slowly, a knowing smirk on your cheekbone. “Come on; you don't think I can tell how much you need it?” He places a hot kiss on your skin. “You've been aching to come since you straddled me hours ago; don’t deny it.”

Fuckkkk….

This is what his ex, Gen, meant all those years ago. ‘Knees weak, pussy strong’ is how she paraphrased what he could do to her. You thought it was her exaggerating; now you realise it wasn’t. It’s like he’s a different person to the Ben that you know, but fuck if it isn't blisteringly hot.

So when he relinquishes your wrists, you wrap around him again, undulating on his leg, pressing your cheek into his, the friction of the layers of fabric adding to your arousal. It feels so good you speed up, grasping his neck.

“Yes, that’s it,” he pants approvingly in your ear, gripping your hips again in encouragement. With every stroke, you bump against a solid mass in his jeans, which makes you feel frantic and impatient for more. To come, to fuck, to do everything he will let you.

“Ben…” his name like honey, tumbling from your lips in your heightened state. You are too cowardly to lean back and look at him, see yourself reflected in his eyes; it feels too much like admitting this is real. Or perhaps you’re simply worried it will break this fevered spell, that he will put a stop to it, leaving you throbbing and bereft.

“Stop thinking,” he drawls, his breath hot on your temple, intuiting you are disappearing too much into your thoughts again, your pace slowing as you slide on him. He squeezes your hips roughly to the point you squeak. “Do you want me to order you to do it?” the voice lethally low. “Is that what you want?”

“I… I…” words fail. You have no idea.

He pulls back to cradle your jaw again, tilting your face to look at him. His hazy blue eyes are dilated to inky black, and his lips are flushed dark pink. “Y/n,” slow, sensual, rumbling from his ribcage, his fingertips warm on your cheeks. “When I tell you to do something, I mean it. Do it.” His thumb swipes your bottom lip. “Right now.”

“Help me,” it’s a desperate uncensored whisper.

“What do you need?” He smiles predatorily, his eyes sparkling in the low light.

“Hold me down; be firm,” confessing your desires. “Control me a bit.” You’ve never divulged that proclivity to any past lover, the craving for something with a hint of roughness, a light tussle. And yet, with your best friend, you can’t help but let it tumble out of you.

And perfect, perfect Ben, god, he obliges.

The hand on your hip digs in as the other slides around the globe of your bottom cheek, and you squeal as he spanks there with a harsh flick.

“I told you to ride my leg,” his directive clipped but somehow still laced with a laid-back bemusement, “so do it.”

It's so perfect you feel an urge to shake him and yell ‘yes’ and ‘this’. But instead, you bite your lip and do as bidden, riding the rough creases in his jeans, letting the texture catch your swollen clit in your thin cotton shorts. It feels so good you shudder, but still, you crave more.

“I want to ride your jeans naked.” Again, you cannot suppress your runaway tongue.

He makes a noise that is almost feral; a sizeable, warm hand slides up your spine underneath your vest, ruching the fabric until it snags on your breasts at the front. Without prompting, you release briefly to strip off the top, then immediately wind around him again like a vine. The soft cotton of his shirt snags delightfully on your nipples, and you can feel his body heat seeping through the thin material. Moaning your approval as his fingers splay wide, touching the sensitive skin of your lower back, right above your shorts.

“Take these off,” he runs a feathery touch above the waistband, the tone gruff and challenging.

He dips slightly and backs away a half pace, just enough to give you room to strip off the last of your clothing. He has not so much as undone a button, but the bulge in his jeans makes you swallow hard as you shimmy off your shorts. He probably wasn't expecting you to be without underwear, based on the noise he makes. You are grateful you have recently trimmed (for a failed date, as it turns out).

As your shorts hit the floor, he dives in for another mindblowing kiss. And before you know it, you are hauled back onto his thigh, completely naked, the denim feeling so perfect against your aching clit.

“You are so close, aren’t you?” he groans as your heat and wetness seep through his jeans, engulfing his quad.

All you can do in response is nod, mildly embarrassed, bury your face in his neck and move again in earnest, making faint noises into his skin. The drag of fabric on your engorged clit is so intoxicating you couldn't stop if you wanted to. He murmurs encouragements, touch searing your skin, just this side of painful; you will likely carry his fingermarks tomorrow.

“Come on, that's it,” he encourages, shifting his leg to increase your range of motion, pressing his erection into your hipbone as you crash into him.

Over and over, you ride, getting faster and faster, chasing the high that feels so tantalisingly close, your skin turning dewy with exertion, his body heat enveloping you. You need something to make you break, and he intuits it. One hand slides up your back to grasp the hair at the base of your skull.

“Give it to me,” he orders duskily, an untamed look in his eye, twisting his grip until your hair is taut against your scalp.

Then, the other hand leaves your hip and insinuates between your bodies, grabbing your breast and pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. The rush of sensation, a little rough, just as you requested, hurls you past the edge you were skating. Convulsing on his leg, he keeps his hold on your hair and nipple as you snap. Eyes rolling closed as you cry his name and curse, coming so hard the world goes fuzzy. Shuddering and shaking, him moving to brace your body upright with him as you writhe.

“That's it, yesssss,” his victorious hiss in your ear is breathy and impressed.

There are a few moments of silence as you return to the room, so marvellously sated but somewhat mortified about what has just transpired.

“I…. I can't believe I did that,” you mutter into his skin, almost ashamed, even as your body still quivers from the best orgasm you can remember in many months.

“You were amazing,” he reassures into your ear.

“Don't ask me to look you in the eye,” you jest lightly, lips skimming his throat, unwilling indeed to meet his eye.

He chuckles, loosening his hold as he drops a kiss on your forehead.

“Are you honestly asking me to fuck you without looking at you?” he checks light-heartedly.

“I have an eye mask you can borrow,” you offer, giggling.

His responding laugh jiggles your whole body as he shifts to allow you back to your flat feet. Your leg muscles still twitching, still leaning into him for support.

“If you want to play with blindfolds, I am more than game,” he murmurs, cradling your face so you daren’t look away. This closeup and aroused he is a devastating sight, all cheekbones and blown pupils. And partnered with those words, in that hedonic tone, your insides are molten all over again.

“Me too,” you whisper back.

Before you know it, he picks you up effortlessly and strides across the hallway toward your bedroom door. This is a seismic shift in your friendship, but as he lowers you gently onto your bed, all you feel is elation. Butterflies in your gut as he climbs on top of you, still fully clothed.

“Ben, what do I have to pay to get you naked?” you grumble good-naturedly, tugging at the shirt around his shoulders, your usual banter flaring despite this surprising development.

He laughs as his lips land on your neck, warm and plush, kissing a line down to your collarbone that is all at once too much and not enough.

“I will get naked if you wear that blindfold you promised,” he jokes, your breath catching as you feel his chin stubble catch on the swell of your breast.

“Nuh-uh,” you shake your head, smiling as he pouts up at you, eyes sparkling.

The fact that the playfulness is still there makes you feel light as air, floating on feathers, him holding your gaze and slipping lower so the tip of his nose brushes your nipple.

“I was right all those years ago,” he inhales almost lewdly. “You really do have a fantastic pair of tits.” He looks up at you from your chest through heavy lashes with that same deadly lopsided smile from years ago, the one he gave you on the train, and once again, it makes you flush from head to toe.

“Naked Bridgerton, now,” you riposte with faux scolding, raising an eyebrow.

This would have been a very effective response had he not chosen that precise moment to envelope your nipple into his mouth and suck hard, instead making you call out, eyes fluttering closed as your spine curls up off the bed, the heat and suction perfect. Swirling his tongue around and using an edge of teeth, swapping to the other side to do the same before you open your eyes. Then he kisses his way back up, claiming another fiery kiss. As you go to weakly protest again about him being too clothed, he sits up and whips the shirt off over his head instead of undoing it, throwing it aside as your eyes fall open.

“What the fuck?!” It's an unbidden but honest response to the sight before you.

In the low light cast by your bedside lamp, he is all defined, sculpted lines—a shape you didn't think real humans came in. He laughs slightly abashed as you keep staring, raising up onto your elbows to drink in the view. You know he is in shape from the feel of his body when you hug him, but just how buff momentarily stuns you.

“You look like a bloody Michelangelo sculpture,” you declare, compounding his coyness.

“If you keep this up, I'm not taking off my jeans,” he warns demurely, in a voice that is both amused and humble.

You mime zipping your mouth shut and throwing away a key as he leans in laughing and busses a brief kiss on your lips. Your hands map his tapered torso, revelling in the supple, warm skin and contoured, lithe muscles and the catch in his throat as you do so. You pull him down on top of you; the weight and warmth of his naked chest meeting yours makes you hungry in a way you haven't felt for years. Eventually, you reach the waistband of his jeans, circling to the front and rapidly flicking open the button of his fly. He squeaks quietly into your passionate kiss, taken aback by your boldness.

“No going back now,” you warn as you carefully lower the zip of his fly over his straining cock.

“I think that ship sailed when I felt your orgasm on my thigh,” he replies drolly, as your eyes briefly fall to the damp patch you left there, cheeks flushing.

His bravado falters when you push his jeans down his slim hips, delving inside the back of his underwear to grab the peachy solid mass of his bottom. He groans into your cheek, and his mouth finds yours again. There is a wave of body heat as you shimmy his underwear and jeans down his leg, unseen as you kiss almost artlessly. He takes over, squirming his way out of them until they are also flung off the bed. You don't see his cock, but he presses down onto you as soon as he is naked, and you feel it brand your thigh, sizeable and hot.

“Let me see,” you almost whine, petulant.

He huffs a laugh, grabs your wrist, and guides your hand between your bodies. There, nestled within a patch of lightly trimmed hair, you feel the steely warmth of his cock.

“Ben,” you stumble out as you encircle the heated mass, feeling a trickle escape your body as you begin to pump him lightly, a thumb swiping the sticky precum at his head, loving the way it makes him stutter and moan into your mouth.

“Fuck,” he sounds winded, pulsing under your fingers.

“Are you okay?”

“Sorry, it's been… uhh… ages since someone else touched my cock,” he rushes out, sheepish.

The honesty makes something melt behind your ribs; this wonderful, handsome man, still recovering from heartbreak, has not had sex in so long that you want to give him - your best friend - everything, a need to please him burning bright. Not wishing to dwell on consequences, what any of this might mean after tonight.

“What do you want, Ben?” you query softly as you pump his cock in your fist.

“You,” he answers sweetly, plainly, breathily, “just you.” He tilts his head and sighs into your neck. “It's been so long since I had sex that I'm not certain I can satisfy you. It’s why I made you to come before; I couldn't bear to leave you in need.”

The vulnerable admission, a true friend confiding in another, makes you crave him, this, even more. The glibness of your recent casual hookups thrown into stark relief in this singular moment of intimate honesty. It's what has been missing from sex since your breakup with Tom. The shorthand that comes from knowing someone so well artifice crumbles; them able to see through all the layers you can hide behind with strangers.

“I bet you are better than you think,” the need to reassure seizing you. “The way you took control earlier was exactly what I needed. Then there is this…,” you squeeze his cock a little, “...now I understand why Gen said she would miss you so much,” you add unabashed, enjoying the feel of his unseen demure smile against your jaw.

“So you liked when I took control?” he queries, shifting the subject.

“Oh god, yes,” you avow, a little frisson racing down your spine at the memory from moments earlier, your grip flexing around his cock as you do so.

“Do you want me to do it again?” his cadence lowers to something more decadent as he removes your hand and traps it on the pillow next to your head.

“Yes, please,” it’s almost too keen.

Again, the noise he makes is an elixir, elation coursing in your veins. His long fingers lacing with yours, holding you down firmly, his mass weightier as he bears you down onto the mattress.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” he rumbles, teeth grazing the sensitive spot below your ear. Your reply in the affirmative is a shaky exhale, a skitter of excitement across your skin at the very idea. “What was that?” his tone suddenly brusque, pushing up to look down upon you, his eyes boring into yours as he surges his cock, branding your inner thigh.

“Yes,” you enunciate crisply, struggling against his control, even though it’s precisely where you want to be, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips as his fingers sink further between yours, stretching your knuckles wide apart. He claims you in a vehement kiss, leaving you whimpering around his invading tongue, the tip of his cock rocking against your clit.

“Tell me you want me,” he orders, breath hot on your face, his hands still pinning you under him.

“I want you,” you answer reflexively, as simple and true as breathing.

He nuzzles your face, his cock sliding temptingly through your slick folds as you shudder, your pebbled nipples catching on the slab of his pectoral muscles, sighing shakily as he gently bites the shell of your ear. He surges his cock again, this time slipping lower, teasing your entrance, parting you with his tip. You inhale sharply at the warm mass, pressing insistently, not quite at the right angle to slip fully inside yet.

“Do you still have your IUD?” he asks quietly, the domineering mask slipping momentarily, releasing your wrists.

“Yes, just get inside me, please,” you respond, soft but fervent, raking fingertips down his back, loving the heated contours that flex as he moves to angle better.

Then, eleven years after you first idly thought of it on that drive down to London from Scotland, Benedict Bridgerton finally slides inside your body.

A blunt warmth spearing you open in a way that feels so good it makes your throat catch, and your eyes roll back in your head. A curse falls from you as he keeps going, finding your hilt as he bottoms out. The perfect fit, just the right side of an ache as you stretch around him. He exhales raggedly into your cheek and stills.

“Move please,” you implore, greedy for more, grabbing his bottom impatiently.

“Give me a moment,” he appeals, breaking persona again, the heat of his body cloaking yours.

“Please,” you coax gently, “Benedict.” You add, almost as an afterthought, using his formal name as if to underline the seriousness of your request.

He makes a noise and lifts to look down at you. “Call me that again,” he commands gravelly, overwrought.

“Benedict,” you repeat as if a tasty morsel you can’t resist.

He makes a hungry noise and withdraws slightly, surging back into you in a way that has your whole body rolling under him with the force of it. You groan, hands flexing on his body, your tongue pressing into the back of your front teeth, quelling the urge to call out how good it already feels.

Your walls cling to him as he sets a languid but perfect rhythm. Breathing each other's air, exploring damp skin, lips meeting repeatedly in loose, open-mouthed kisses. Once again, he grabs your hands and manoeuvres them above your head, holding you down, stretching your arms so your body cants up, your nipples grazing his chest.

“You have no idea how many times I've fantasised of this moment for so many years,” he rasps, making your breath hitch with his words and a change of angle that catches a new spot inside. “And yet, this is better,” he continues, dropping a kiss in your hair.

“Same,” you confess succinctly.

A triumphant crooked smile claims his face, and then he thrusts forcefully, wringing a loud moan from your lungs, your head smashing into the pillow as your hips tilt up in a silent request for more. Yearning for him to fuck you so hard that you feel a physical reminder; for your body to carry a tangible memory of it.

“You want more, don't you?” he intuits, pride colouring his tone.

“Yes,” you hiss, conscious he can read you effortlessly.

He snaps his hips in response, and you feel a tug deep inside where he nudges your hilt. It feels so good you gasp and fight to release your hands from above your head, desperate to grab his bum cheeks again and haul him deeper into you.

“Nuh-uh,” he chides bemused, shooting you a pointed look, “you do as I say, remember?”

You struggle underneath him, eyes blazing as you stare into his glassy pupils, telegraphing silently this is precisely what you want, making a show until you finally settle and curl your bottom lip under your teeth, nodding meekly as he restarts at a leisurely pace.

“Good girl.” He even winks.

Oh fucking hell.

Your pussy pulses around him, betraying how much you like that line.

“Oh, you like that, don’t you?” he smirks, the smug, cocky persona he can slip into so easily fitting him like a glove. The ghost of Benedict-past rearing - that troublesome young playboy you recall from years ago.

He chuckles richly when you don’t give him the satisfaction of a verbal response, somehow the spectre of your younger, indignant self joining the party, too.

“Don’t forget: I can tell when you’re lying,” he murmurs into your jaw, still fucking you slow and thoroughly, sliding his lips down your neck, your collarbone, down to your nipple that he bites, making you cry out. “I know you of old…” he adds, pausing for you to catch the reference.

“Shakespeare…,” you stumble incredulously.

“Mmm hmm,” he confirms, tracing a teasing circle around your areola with the tip of his tongue.

“You quote Shakespeare while you fuck?!” your tone incredulous. “You don’t fight fair,”

He laughs again before silencing any retort you may have with another heated kiss, entwining your limbs, wrapping like a protective vine around you as he begins thrusting keenly. You move with him, uncaring how vocal you are, the need for more inexorable. You stare into each other's eyes as you move in perfect synchronism, faster and harder, grabbing flesh, whispered words and endless kisses. It’s never been quite like this before.

“Come for me again,” he pleads hotly, and you can see he is teetering close to the edge now, a little vein pulsing in his temple, his neck corded, a sheen over his body where his pace never wavers.

“So close,” you vow, needing just a little more friction to fall into that abyss again.

You groan as he grabs your hand and sucks your fingers into his hot mouth, swirling his tongue around them, then releases them with an obscene pop, guiding your wettened fingers between your bodies to the apex of your thighs, silently instructing you to touch yourself. Gasping and canting up into his body, your own slippery touch like a lightning rod on your clit. He growls as your pussy tightens around him responsively, feeling so huge as he ploughs into you.

Only a few flicks of your fingers and you are hurtling towards mindless bliss, eyes closing and body going taut, then snapping like a string as you peak, every fibre of your body fracturing as you call his name and constrict tight around his cock, fingernails leaving crescent shapes on his back as you float somewhere outside your body, mind blanking out in sheer pleasure.

Distantly, you hear him following you over, his grip almost punishing as he takes a few last frantic pumps, then stills, emptying deep inside, chanting your name into your neck as his whole body shudders and collapses on top of you.

As you flop back onto the mattress, your body sated, your thoughts race. Probably the best sex of your damn life. Even as he slides next to you, pulling you into his arms, your mind whirls until your scattered thoughts coalesce into one singular truth that makes you chew on your lip and frettingly stare at the ceiling - it was too good, too tender, too raw and honest for a first time. But all you want to do is repeat it. Over and over and over. Just never let him out of your bedroom. Except this is your best friend, and you have no bloody idea where you stand now.

Well… fuckity fuck.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhelll @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @Mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23 @last-sheepp @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @jeanfreau @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fluff #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n #it had to be you fic

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junhuiste · 1 month

Text

experi-meant to be ⋆ park wonbin

pairing: wonbin x gn reader

tags/warnings: fluff, cursing, college au, laboratory environment, one mention of baking, 1600 words

a/n: i meant to publish this on valentine’s day since i had lab that day but i never finished it lol. there’s some microbio lab procedure jargon so like this is what streaking plates is if you want a visual lmfaoao. this is my first published work in like three years it feels weird haha + i might change my layout/header for fics but for now i’ll keep the same layout i've had for past fics

wonbin believes U are the uracil to his adenine—you should always be paired together.

| seunghan: dude

| seunghan: lowkey i can’t come to lab bc my car won’t fucking start so i’ll have to make it up next week :\ but taehyun and his partner would probably be willing to help you out with calculations and clean up hopefully

Wonbin pants heading up the stairs into the classroom lab, cheeks immediately pink as he’s made a spectacle amongst everyone already sitting and tuned into the TA’s pre-lab lesson. Sighing as he processes Seunghan’s text, Wonbin turns to the drawing of bacterial growth curves on the whiteboard but is soon after preoccupied with the fact that there is no Taehyun on a stool. There’s just your backside entirely in front of him.

Taehyun is one to set up all his materials before the TA even steps foot through the lab door so if he isn’t here now then that means—

“Guess you’re stuck with me for today.”

Wonbin tries to swallow but it gets stuck halfway down his throat and is about to go into a choke type cough frenzy when he surprises himself and softly clears his throat instead. His thoughts are all just stuck there—in the middle of his esophagus, begging for them to travel back up to his brain so he has enough stamina to stick it through the four hour class.

“No hate to him because Taehyunnie’s a tad faster at getting through the steps, so you know, we’re usually out thirty minutes early, but I can promise you I’m better at calculations. And I’m more precise with measurements,” you let out a small giggle before setting your backpack on the floor next to Wonbin’s.

The commotion of pipettes being thrown onto the surface, glass tubes clinking, and sneakers squeaking rushing to obtain their samples is right away drowned out in Wonbin’s ears by the sight of you perched atop the stool a mere few inches away from him. He tries to keep his chest from heaving at bay by taking his notebook out of his backpack and reviewing the method for today’s class. The solution is only short lived though, promptly taking notice of how you gather materials from the drawer while simultaneously reading through your own notebook.

Every Tuesday and Thursday, Wonbin assumes his seat in the third to last row of his Virology lecture, close enough to the door that he can be among the first to leave as soon as “see you guys next time” leaves Professor Choi’s lips. He longs for the day (ideally it would be quite before the last week of classes but realistically that’s the best he has to offer for now) that he musters up just the slightest bit of courage to join you and Taehyun in the second row, where Seunghan also occasionally accompanies you two. It’s only the third week of this semester, but perhaps the sixth course of his over the past three years Wonbin’s seen you in. From Biochemistry to Rhetoric 2, he has never taken place at a desk next to yours.

Wonbin’s always aching to know how you’d answer everything he could ever ask you, be it the attendance quiz question or your weekend plans—what time you usually roll out of bed, whether or not you stroll to the local farmer’s market near campus, if you’re spending Saturday with a special someone. He needs to hear you laugh at Taehyun’s cynicism about college. He needs to hear it up close, not having to strain his ear when he’s fifteen rows behind when you crack up at your friend during the five minute break Professor Choi gives the class.

But Wonbin will take what he can get for now, and if that’s helping you fulfill your wish of completing the lab procedure as quickly as possible, he’ll do it.

“I can do the calculations for us,” you begin, “would you mind getting our mutant strains at the front of the class and streak the Petri dishes?”

Wonbin nods almost too enthusiastically and curses at himself for seeming embarrassingly desperate in front of you. Sure, he’d like to muster up the courage to ask you out, but today he’ll try to take it one step at a time.

When Wonbin returns with new plates to grow your bacteria on and two tubes filled with your bacterial strains, you scoot your chair closer to his to later show the finished calculations. He catches a whiff of your light perfume and almost falls out of his own chair.

As he’s setting up the Bunsen burner for sterilization, you chuckle, “you know the real reason Taehyun’s not here today is because he left town last night to get a head start on the extravagant romantic weekend he has planned with Gaeul.”

“If there’s one way to use our one free unexcused absence, that’ll do it,” Wonbin replies.

“Do you have any plans for Valentine’s Day, Wonbin? I mean if you did I just hope you wouldn’t leave me early like Taehyun did,” your eyes meet his for a brief second before flitting back to your notebook.

Wonbin’s grip on the matchstick to light the burner loosens. He just barely catches himself before the match could fall from his hand onto the lab bench. What he needed to get a grip on was his fucking sanity—he almost set the classroom on fire because his heart instead is aflame for yours.

Taking a breath, Wonbin exhales when the flame turns to blue, finally lighting the Bunsen burner.

“Nope, no plans,” he briefly turns to you. There’s a beat and he considers that asking you back would seem too forward, but he does it anyway.

Upon seeing your grin before you open your mouth, he turns his attention right back to the tubes and plates in front of him.

It’s so over.

For a second Wonbin’s relieved, because he thinks he can actually get through the next two hours without overthinking his micro movements in front of you. Now that it’s over for him, maybe he can actually pay attention to the way the metal loop he’s holding makes contact with the jelly-like agar inside the plastic plate and not disappoint Seunghan with the results. However, it’s not realistic because even still, Wonbin takes note of all your beauty and remains completely bewitched.

“Honestly I wish...I mean Minjeong, Yunjin and I are gonna do a rom-com binge and bake desserts…but you know…not any plans with someone like that…”

Your temporary lab partner tries to hide his smile and nods silently as he continues switching between spreading bacteria on the plate with the metal loop and then sterilizing the loop in the blue flame.

The rest of lab goes smoothly as Wonbin tries to quell the embers within him for the time remaining. There’s forty minutes left but technically to you Wonbin knows time is dashing away and it should feel like there’s what but only ten minutes left to do everything. Your pair was a few steps ahead of the others, just like how it would be when Taehyun accompanied you every week.

Wonbin has been psyching himself up the past two hours to finally ask you out but currently he’s stuck in his head and just can’t seem to get it out. Does he chase you after you’ve stepped foot out of the lab or should he leave you be? Or maybe he can try next week. He’ll keep telling himself that until there’s one day of instruction left and then he won’t see you for three months and then he’ll lament the entire summer to Seunghan that he didn’t say shit.

He can do that…or just rip the bandage off at an agonizing speed.

The last Petri dish that Wonbin holds is being wrapped in parafilm to prevent contamination. He’d been going through the motions of the procedure while simultaneously not paying attention to his surroundings, at his own self’s behest. You’ve already cleaned the entire lab bench and he doesn’t notice until he hears “see you in Virology,” and suddenly you’re slinging your backpack over your shoulder.

It’s now or next week…or never—wait you know that Wonbin’s in your Virology class? What you said is ringing in his ears and it hits him all at once.

Petri dishes in hand and turning around, Wonbin freezes in his tracks.

“Um…”

Your eyebrows furrow.

“Do you want to hang out tomorrow?” his own mouth betrays him and suddenly it’s all coming out much too quickly for his liking.

You’re about to answer but before you can even get a word in, “I-I don’t mean to interfere with your plans with your friends but uh, if you wanted to do something like that I’m down.”

Your lips press into a line and Wonbin is about to pass out from the threatening fluorescent classroom lights.

“Park Wonbin…are you asking me out on a date?” He can practically feel his sweat melting the parafilm tape off and a vision of him dropping the Petri dishes in front of you, cracking open and shattering, exposing E.coli to everyone in the room flashes before him. He blinks once and calms his vice grip on the plates.

“Yes. Yes I am asking you out on a date,” Wonbin looks down at your sneakers, not knowing where else to shift his gaze to.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow then,” you smirk, slinging the other strap of your backpack over your other shoulder and saluting.

Park Wonbin swears his heart is on fire and does a backflip off a fifty foot cliff. A curve forming on his lips, he smiles slightly waving with the plates still in his hand, “see ya…”

You halt your forward movement and turn back around, “Wonbin?” he perks up again, “you should sit next to me in lecture on Tuesday.”

#riize imagines #riize scenarios #wonbin scenarios #wonbin x reader #riize fluff #wonbin fluff #wonbin imagines #riize #wonbin

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shares-a-vest · 2 months

Text

@flufftober Spring Edition Day 7: Giving someone a present

wc: 886 | Rated: T for Canon-Typical swearing, some suggestive language | cw: None

Tags: Pre-Birthday, Eddie Munson is a Menace, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Cuddling, Spoiling Presents, Wayne Munson Takes a Pottery Class (it's only a throwaway line, but it's a headcanon I have rotting my brain rn)

Note: I just want to shout out the lovely comment @withacapitalp left on my ficlet from yesterday. It definitely influenced today's fic, as Steve reflects on the life he has in this AU. Thank youuu so much Liam for recognising an underlying theme/nuance in this universe.

‘The Best Present of All’

“What’s got you all giddy?” Steve asks, watching Eddie practically strut across their bedroom as he heads for his side of the bed.

He looks ridiculous – like a headbanging, scruffy chicken. Eddie pauses by the side of the bed and rips off his loose, cut-off Black Sabbath shirt. He hurls it halfway across the room, the discarded almost-terrycloth fluttering to the floor as he jumps on the bed and lounges across Steve’s legs.

“It’s your birthday tomorrow, precious,” he coos, rolling awkwardly on his back and grimacing.

He brushes it off as if Steve doesn’t know the telltale signs of his partner twinging his back – never one to exactly take it easy after almost dying in the Spring of 1986. Eddie puffs out a breath to blow hair from his face and giggles.

“I bought you the best present,” he continues, looking at the ceiling.

“That so?” Steve teases, knowing all too well that whatever said material item is, it will be nothing compared to the mischief Eddie surely has cooked up.

And Steve is going to love every minute of it. He loves every birthday he gets to have with Eddie by his side – and that’s something that can’t be bought.

Eddie turns his head and grins.

“I’m going to gift-give so hard,” he quips, scrunching his nose and clenching his jaw.

Steve supposes it is meant to come off, well... seductive, or something – but Eddie simply looks like an utter lovesick dork with those glee-filled eyes peeking out from under his unruly bangs.

“Did you help Joanie with something, at least?” Steve chuckles.

“Of course,” Eddie says, tenting his fingers together, “Prepare for a macaroni-encrusted card and the wobbliest, most unusable coffee mug in human existence.”

“Wow,” he laughs and swipes at his partner with his pillow. Eddie splutters away, spitting like a cranky kitten as Steve chides, “You cannot keep a secret.”

“I blame Wayne for the mug idea.”

“Stop making fun.”

He tugs on Eddie’s bare arm – if he has the man shirtless in bed, he at least wants to cuddle (and stop his legs from being crushed). Eddie goes limp, forcing Steve to all but pull his dead weight upright and into his arms, mussing and twisting their oft-abused bedding into a crumple – the blue patterned lines now a wavy swish.

“But the old man is taking a goddamn pottery class like he’s Demi fucking Moore,” Eddie cackles into his chest.

Steve shushes him and presses a kiss to the top of his head just to be safe. He holds Eddie close, breathing in the smell of fruity shampoo. Feeling the warmth of his skin against his own – the touch of flesh under his fingers.

He shifts on the spot and bites his lip.

“Eds?”

“Mmmhmm?” Eddie hums and Steve can feel his mischievous smirk.

“Since you’re spoiling presents…” he wonders aloud, removing his hand from his partner’s shoulder so he can attempt to flick back the blankets, “What if I got one of my presents now?”

Eddie untangles himself and bolts upright, scrambling with the bedding instead.

“Thought you’d never ask, sweetheart.”

They make quick work of slipping under the covers, righting their bedding as much as possible – even if it all somehow ends up on a forty-five-degree angle in their haste. But once they get settled, all cozy and warm and impossibly close as they roll into each other’s embrace on instinct, Steve feels his heart skip a beat.

“Eddie…” he whispers, letting his partner’s name linger on his tongue.

“Yeah?” Eddie whispers back, his big brown eyes glistening from the reflection of the light on the nightstand.

Steve shuffles closer, closing the already tiny gap between them and loops his arms around Eddie’s middle. He simply holds his partner for a moment, looking into those beautiful eyes – watching as Eddie breathes in and out and blinks. He leans in and presses a kiss to his lips, clinging to Eddie tight as he begins to kiss back. It deepens almost instantly and Steve hums, stifling a gasp as tears begin to prickle up.

Over the years, he has turned into a total sap, the waterworks turning on so easily sometimes that it worries him.

But he just feels so much – so much love – with his family. With their silly cats, first in Chicago in their tiny apartment, then in their slightly bigger but nonetheless cramped apartment and now in their home. A four-bedroom house with plenty of room to live and build. A house with a yard, a garden and a garage big enough for Eddie to jam with Freak on weekends.

The best gift life could have given him.

He used to be scared that he’d be stuck in Hawkins forever, working for his father and trying to please his mother all the while failing and remaining lonely.

But all that changed with Eddie. Even if it first started during that awful Spring Break back when he thought they might not even survive long enough to see where things could go.

“I love you,” he whispers when they break apart and come up for air, “Love you and Joanie so much.”

“I love you too, Stevie,” Eddie says, wiping a stray tear from his cheek, “Happy birthday.”

#fluffspring2024 #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie ficlet #steddie as girl-dads

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eoieopda · 9 months

Note

<whispers in your ear> Cheol x Reader where he’s her brother’s friend? 🙏

the one with seungcheol and the ruse

pairing: choi seungcheol x jeon!reader summary: your knight’s shining armor is actually of flannel, but he gets the job done. cw: reader’s gender/sexuality are left up to interpretation, annoying ex, alcohol mention, the setting is a bar, wonwoo doesn’t actually appear but my girl lee youngji does (lmao) au: older brother’s best friend, fake dating (sort of) type: drabble (fluff-adjacent) rating: pg15 wc: 1.4 🔞 MINORS WHO INTERACT WITH ME AND/OR MY CONTENT WILL BE BLOCKED, WHETHER OR NOT THE CONTENT IS NSFW. I’M AN ADULT WRITING EXCLUSIVELY FOR OTHER ADULTS.

The similarities between you and your brother start and stop with genetic material. While you’d rather die than spend a Saturday night at home alone, Wonwoo would sooner drop dead than divorce himself from his PC just to leave his apartment.

All things considered, it’s not much of a surprise when you roll up to the bar with your friends and find your brother’s there without him. Just the same, you’re not shocked when the cursory wave you give goes unnoticed; they’re all too busy guzzling shots to care who walks by.

All but one, that is.

The oldest, Seungcheol, lifts his pint glass in acknowledgment when he sees you come in from the cold. That gesture comes with a bonus in the form of a lazy half-smile, which almost has you tripping over your own feet. Now effectively tattooed on your brain, you still picture that lopsided grin while you cross the room to claim a booth.

Of the boys taking up space at the bar, Seungcheol is the closest to your brother — and, as a natural consequence, the closest to you. So, you tell yourself, it’s only natural that your focus keeps drifting in his way. More than that, it’s polite, checking in to make sure he’s having fun.

Wonwoo would want that for him, after all.

Right?

More often than not, Seungcheol is too engrossed in his friends’ shenanigans to feel your casual — polite — gaze burning a hole in the side of his head. Even though he’s not looking in your direction, you find it hard to stop glancing in his. It can’t be helped; it’s always been this way. There’s only one conclusion left to draw:

Choi Seungcheol was tailor-made to distract you.

First, it’s the fact that his hair is quite a bit longer now than when you saw him at your parents’ anniversary party a few weeks ago. The more you stare at those dark waves, the more you try to justify it to yourself. As far as you’ll admit, it has nothing whatsoever to do with how soft those tresses look; nor any desire you may or may not have to touch them and test your theory.

No, you’re simply trying to determine what vitamins or supplements he takes to achieve that perfect shine — because whatever he’s doing is working.

When you stop gawking at his head, it’s his hands that trip you up. The way they grip Soonyoung’s biceps when the younger of the two starts wobbling, threatening to topple over onto a soju-sticky floor. The urge you feel to throw yourself at the ground and see who catches you is purely scientific, you tell yourself.

Research.

If it’s not his body, it’s the sound he makes, laughing like a mad man with his whole chest. You have to peel your velcro gaze off of him to see what he’s laughing at: Kim Mingyu, who attempted to catch a tossed peanut in his mouth but ended up getting hit between the eyebrows.

You’d let yourself be pelted with peanuts if it made him laugh like that again — and, quite frankly, you have no excuses left to give about why that is.

Nine times out of ten, your friends are smirking when you finally turn back around because they know exactly where your eyes keep wandering — and to whom. They point out the way your cheeks and ears flame up. Each time they do, you blame it on the alcohol, though none of you believe it.

When you turn around for the tenth time, however, they’re not smirking. Instead, they’re pushing their empty glasses your way.

“You’re on refill duty, aren’t you?” Youngji asks with a single eyebrow raised.

You’re not, but she’s not blind. She knows how much you want to hover, and how desperately you need an excuse to do so.

Seungkwan, quick on the uptake, chugs what’s left of his cocktail. His face is still twisted from the sour syrup when he waves his now-empty glass in front of you. He says nothing, but he doesn’t have to; his narrowed eyes are menacing, and they tell you everything he’s thinking.

You sigh, put-upon, even though everyone knows you aren’t. Lips pursed tight, you keep that giddy grin to yourself as you collect the glasses and skip off towards the bar.

After giving your orders to the bartender, you glance — for the millionth time — over to your brother’s friends. The one you’re looking for is nowhere to be seen. Bravely, you do your best not to pout.

“Hey,” comes a low voice from behind you.

It’s a miracle that your head doesn’t roll with how quickly you swivel around.

As soon as you do, your face falls. The excited flip in your stomach is swiftly replaced by a wave of nausea. Your tone is clipped and drenched in disappointment when you respond: “Can I help you?”

Your ex never could take a hint. They breeze right past that deadly look on your face, sidle up next to you at the bar until their shoulder is damn near bumping into yours. Worse, they open their mouth to speak again.

“Haven’t seen you around much lately —”

Is that not the point of breaking up with someone?

Desperate, your eyes scan the room for anyone who might notice the giant, neon exclamation point flashing above your head. Nobody you stare pointedly at feels your gaze on them, so you switch targets — again, again, again. Your brother’s friends are equally as useless as your own, it seems.

What if you tap “SOS” in morse code?

“— I’ve missed you. Missed us.”

Shit.

Why didn’t you learn morse code?

You’re ready to sprint headlong out of the bar entirely when an arm — thankfully not your ex’s — drapes around your shoulders. With a quick glance up, you confirm that there’s truth to the meme: not all heroes wear capes.

As it turns out, some heroes wear flannels, and they accessorize them with jaws clenched tightly enough to crack teeth.

“Jagi, who’s this?”

Seungcheol’s posture relaxes just a little when he looks down at you. You swallow and keep your swooning to a minimum. There’s sweetness dripping from his tone that you want to bathe in.

“I thought I’d met all your friends by now.”

When you let him pull you closer to his side — so close that your head can rest against his goddamn pectoral — you tell yourself that it’s just part of the bit. The affectionate smile he sends your way is part of the ruse. He’s convincing, though; you’d fall for this con, too.

You and your moon-sized eyes begrudgingly shift focus from Seungcheol to your ex, who still hasn’t taken the hint. That lovesick smile of yours is gone in an instant, giving way to the flattest affect you can muster. The sugar-laced voice you speak with is a far cry from the unblinking and unapologetic expression on your face. “I’m so sorry, but I don’t recall your name! What was it?”

Suddenly, Seungcheol unwraps his arm from around you. He seems to sense that this change-up startles you, so he winks at you while he leaning forward into the space between you and your ex; hands reaching for the drinks you’ve been waiting on.

Oh, you realize. He’s making sure you get the last word.

You swallow thickly as you reach out to take your burden off his hands. He shakes his head and beckons you with a smile, eyes softening. “C’mon, sweetheart. I’ve got these.”

You do as he says, following close behind him like a puppy, and you only stop when he does. Seungcheol looks back over his shoulder, calling out first to the bartender:

“Can you put these on my tab? The name’s Choi.”

Then, dropping all pretense of friendliness, to your ex:

“Get home safe, eh, chingu?”

When you both resume your path to your table, you squeeze his elbow and whisper, “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” he urges, shaking his head a second time. Although he’s smiling, there’s some unspoken conflict in his eyes that you can’t quite parse. You can’t ask after it, either, because he stops stalling and sighs, “That’s what pseudo-brothers are for, right?”

#svt #scoups #seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #seungcheol #choi seungcheol #svt drabble #seungcheol drabble #jade writes #jade’s drabbles #jade’s requests #svt imagines #svt scenarios #scoups imagines #seungcheol imagines #scoups scenarios #seungcheol scenarios #re: the one with seungcheol and the ruse #csc

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bottomtim · 1 year

Text

steddie a/b/o au part 2! (part 1 here) | rated M, 2.9k words, now on ao3

Steve walks up to the door of the Munson trailer, blankets now situated in a laundry sack for easy transport, and goes to pull it open, only to find it locked.

Knocking is a courtesy that, lately, Steve only really extends when Wayne is there, but his car is nowhere to be seen. He does usually call first, and when he doesn’t, Eddie grumbles about how he needs to start locking the doors if Steve is going to barge in like he owns the place. But that’s just good natured teasing, or else Eddie would have locked the doors before today. (And do you know who shows up at your place uninvited, who you keep the doors unlocked for, who you keep that boundary open with? Pack mates.)

Steve’s mind is still so hyper focused on pack mates and what it means to be pack mates that when he goes for the door and it doesn’t budge, his mind doesn’t really comprehend it at first, thinks maybe he’s just not turning the knob far enough. But he goes to open the door again, and, nope, still won’t budge. So he knocks.

His initial knock goes unanswered, so he knocks again, harder. When there’s still no answer, Steve yells, “Ed, it’s me! I know you’re in there, open up!” And when Eddie still doesn’t answer, he decides knocking incessantly and calling Eddie’s name will get his attention eventually, will break through whatever barrier that is currently being provided by sleeping, or reading, or writing music. Steve’s about to go knock directly on Eddie’s window when he finally hears, “Jesus Christ, Harrington, shut up, I’m coming.”

When he hears the knob jiggle, Steve lifts his laundry sack of blankets into view, ready to explain to Eddie that he’s here for his scent. But when Eddie opens the door, he looks, well… Awful.

His hair is flatter and duller than normal, he’s pale but his cheeks are red, he’s looking sweaty, and Steve can see the exhaustion all over his face. Steve would’ve assumed Eddie was sick and had a fever if the smell didn’t hit him next.

“Holy shit, Munson, are you in heat? You’re in heat! Why didn’t you say anything? Oh my god.” Steve pushes Eddie back inside, and firmly shuts the door.

“Steve, why are you here?” Usually Eddie seemed pretty happy to see Steve, or, at least, not upset. But right now he looks like he’d rather be anywhere else than in his living room with Steve.

“Came to get your scent for the movie night nest, but, heat scent is definitely not what we’re going for.”

“My scent? Why…?”

“For the nest? The pack nest? The one that we set up every movie night…?” Then Steve waves his hands, going back to the more pressing matter. “Why didn’t you tell us about your heat, Munson? You need nesting materials with our scents, you need, like, snacks and water, you need someone to be here for you, like holy shit, why are you here alone right now?!”

“I’m here alone because I didn’t think my uncle needed to hear me jerk off for the next three days. Don’t sweat it, Stevie, I can handle my heat just fine.”

“You don’t look like you’re handling it, you look like you’re about to keel over.” And, as if on cue, Eddie starts swaying and Steve has to steady him by the arm and lead him to the couch before he actually does keel over. Steve sets the laundry sack down and focuses his full attention on the omega in heat in front of him.

Eddie takes a deep breath, then says, tiredly, “Steve. Why are you still here?”

“Why—? Eddie, because you’re apparently in heat and you shouldn’t be alone! Why do you think we would leave you alone during your heat?”

And then the lightbulb goes off in Steve’s mind. His brain supplies the answer to his question before Eddie can.

Because the girls were—ugh—right.

Because Eddie doesn’t know he’s pack.

Eddie sighs, exasperated. “Why would you think I want you to be here for my heat?”

“Eddie,” Steve begins, hesitantly. “Why do you think I came to get your scent for the pack nest?”

“Still haven’t parsed that one out yet. Kinda too busy trying not to whip my dick out in front of you, right now.”

“Okay, um.” Shit. Shit. Steve has to approach this carefully. Asking someone to join your pack when they’re in the throes of heat isn’t ideal, but Steve can maybe use this opportunity to ease him into it gently. “How does this sound. How would you like some things that smell like… Us… for your heat nest.”

“‘Us’ being?”

“Well, the pack. At least Robin or Nancy’s, or, um. Mine.” He could probably get Eddie to agree to stuff from the kids, too, but he thinks just the 3 of them might be less overwhelming.

Eddie whimpers, probably involuntarily. “Not gonna lie, that sounds, uh. Nice.”

“Ok! Ok, good! Let’s start there. I’ll get some stuff for your nest. Do you want to lay down? You look like you need to lay down.”

Eddie nods hard, eyes glassy as Steve helps him lay down on the couch. Eddie lets out a whined, “Smell so good,” before Steve heads over to the telephone. Christ.

Nancy picks up on the third ring. He doesn’t even let her say a greeting before he goes, “You were right.”

“Of course I was.”

“We’ve got a bigger situation.”

“Okay?”

“He’s in heat.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah ‘oh.’ Uh, can you bring some stuff over? Some painkillers, snacks, he likes those gummy bears and that Earl Grey tea, and something for his nest?”

“Yes,” Nancy answers quickly, no hint of hesitancy in her voice. Nancy is a very good alpha, and whether Eddie has been officially invited into the pack or not, Steve knows she still sees him as one of hers.

“Are you sure you want stuff for his nest if he doesn’t even know he’s pack? Will he be okay with it?”

“Yep, he’s fine with it. Maybe just stick with stuff from you, me, or Robin for now.”

“Got it. Robin and I will be there in 20.”

“You don’t need to bring Robin.” Steve hears Eddie whine again from the couch. Probably the idea of having any alpha near him sounds appealing, just for the company and comfort alone. But the idea of two alphas being in Eddie’s space makes Steve nervous on his behalf. He knows neither Robin nor Nancy would ever do anything to intentionally hurt Eddie, but he’s vulnerable and could easily be overwhelmed. It took Steve a while to be okay with having the both of them around for his own heats; though it’s still usually just Robin keeping him company, Nancy will still stop by to check on him because she is, as previously stated, a very good alpha.

“Don’t worry about it. See ya soon!” She hangs up before Steve has a chance to say anything further.

Right. Okay.

Steve hangs up Eddie’s phone and turns back to see Eddie laying on the couch with his arm thrown over his eyes, taking deep controlled breaths. “How ya doin’ over there, buddy?

“I’m gonna be honest with you,” Eddie starts. “I’m trying really hard not to grind into my couch cushions right in front of you right now.”

“Right, got it.” Steve’s been there. He’s felt the uncontrollable urge to rub himself on every available surface, to put anything even vaguely phalic shaped inside of himself just to quell the incessant desire screaming at him, the quiet the little voice in his head telling him he needs to be filled. “Do you want to go to your room and take care of it?”

Eddie moves his arm to peek at Steve with a big, surprised eye when Steve realizes how that must sound. “Can’t even ask me to dinner first, Harrington?”

“By yourself, I mean!” Steve corrects, hastily. “Obviously.”

Eddie grimaces, face turning sour. “Yeah. Obviously.” The smell of hurt and disappointment hit Steve like a truck, and shit. Steve mentally asks himself why he’s being so stupid today.

“Eddie, that’s not what I mean, I just mean, that, well, y’know… We’re not… We’ve never…” Steve’s at a loss for what to say. They’ve never done anything, not really, and have never said anything. Eddie doesn’t even think he’s part of the pack. And, sure, Steve sometimes feels butterflies when Eddie sleepily scents him when they lay on the couch, or when they’re in the pack nest and Eddie chooses to sit next to him over everyone else. But that’s all that’s ever happened. Steve chooses not to look too far into it. Eddie’s never said if he would be interested in another man, or even if he’d be interested in another omega, so it’s hard to say if Steve just wants to see more than there is or if there’s really something there. So he ignores it.

Eddie sighs, still smells a bit unhappy, but says “No, I know. It’s just… Heat Brain making me sensitive. Sorry.”

“Yeah, no worries. I shouldn’t have said it like that.”

“I am tempted to, uh, go take care of it. But from what I could hear of your conversation, I should be expecting company.”

“Yeah, just Rob and Nance. They’re gonna drop some things off for you.”

Eddie lets out a choked little noise, probably trying to hold back another whine before he says, “Gotta be honest, I don’t think I’ve ever been around any alphas for my heat. Wayne’s a beta, mom was an omega, Dad was a beta, too. And I’ve never, uh, been with any alphas, either.”

“I get it, man. Nancy’s a good alpha. So is Rob. Hell, Robin spends every heat with me, just making sure I don’t, like, get dehydrated. Or die. And Nancy always checks in, too.”

“And you guys don’t… Do anything?” Eddie asks, hesitantly.

“Nah. You know about Robin. And Nancy and I tried when we were together, and it was fine, but it just… I don’t know. Wasn’t really either of our things.”

“Mine neither,” Eddie admits softly. “Not the… The alphas or the-” He’s cut off by a knock on the door.

“I’ll get it. Are you okay if they want to come in? I can just take the stuff and tell them to scram. They won’t be offended, I promise.”

Eddie turns to lay on his side and looks up at Steve with glassy eyes, contemplating. Steve can tell every fiber of his omega being wants the presence of an alpha but he’s internally debating on if he thinks he should, probably heard too many horror stories of alphas and omegas not being able control themselves around each other during a cycle.

Steve can’t help but reach out and card his fingers through Eddie’s hair. “I promise, if you want to see them, nothing will happen. I’ll make sure of it, if you’re worried. And if you don’t, that’s fine, too.”

Eddie thinks a moment longer, the girls (probably more likely Robin) are continuously knocking on the door now, much like Steve was earlier. Eddie nods and Steve gives him a reassuring smile before he gets up to answer the door.

As he approaches, he hears Robin call through the door, “You guys better not be having s-!” and she stops when Steve opens the door and flashes an overly wide smile at him. “We come bearing gifts,” she says, instead.

Robin shoves the pile of clothes and blankets she brought into Steve’s arms and makes a beeline straight for Eddie on the couch. Steve follows close on her heels– Look he knows, okay, he knows, it’s just Robin and nothing is going to happen, he doesn’t need to be protective of Eddie, but… Something about Omega-In-Heat Pheromones make it a little hard for Steve to think straight. He’s anxious. He feels an arm squeeze his shoulder and turns to see Nancy, who just deposited some grocery bags on the kitchen counter, looking up at him. “You need to relax,” she says, giving him a reassuring smile. “Deep breaths.” He can smell Nancy releasing a calming scent and it does help a little.

“Oh, Eddie,” Robin tuts, holding his fevered face in her hands. “I’m sorry you thought you had to do this alone. We should have talked about this sooner.”

Eddie groans, taking in a deep breath of alpha scent and melting into a puddle in the couch immediately. “Smell sooooo good,” he says, hazily.

“I know, buddy, I smell like a dream,” She laughs, easily. It helps Steve relax, seeing her smile, seeing her dote. He knows this is how it goes.

“Ugh, yeah,” Eddie says, openly scenting her wrist. She smiles wide up at Steve like in a Do you see this happening?! Kind of way. They can tell Eddie is losing more of his focus the more time he’s around the alphas’ scents, plus there already seemed to be another wave coming on not long after Steve got there.

“How are you feeling, Eddie?” Nancy asks. Her face is concerned and her grip on Steve’s arm is still tight, but she still smells calm as ever.

“Betterrrrr,” Eddie slurs, the word turning into a purr in the latter half.

“Good! Good. We brought stuff for your nest,” She says.

“Nest!”

“Yes. Nest. Do you want to put some stuff in your nest?”

Eddie nods, clumsily sits up. Robin and Nancy are all over him in seconds, helping him stand, leading him to his room. Steve really wishes Robin hadn’t shoved all of the nesting materials in his arms right about now.

They make it into the bedroom and Eddie plops down onto his bed, which already has Eddie’s regular blankets, both throws from the living room, and a couple of Wayne’s work shirts scattered about. Steve sets the nesting materials next to him and watches as Eddie takes his time to sniff each piece. When he gets to one of Steve’s shirts, he nearly moans and says Steve’s name, holding the fabric tight and rubbing his own scent on it, mixing their smells together. Robin gives Steve’s shoulder a not so subtle shove, a shit-eating I-told-you-so grin on her face while Nancy giggles behind her hand.

They watch as Eddie takes his time, laying out each piece–Shirts from Robin and Nancy, the blanket Steve recognizes from Robin’s room, but also a big blanket they save for pack nights. Eddie purrs when he smells that one, and Nancy leans to whisper in Steve’s ear, “I had the kids scent that one. I know… I know you said just us, but… I don’t know. Felt right.” She shrugs, eyes locked on Eddie watching him fuss with each piece.

After a while, Eddie has all the materials placed, and he looks up to Steve and the alphas, almost for approval.

Robin is the first to say, “It looks so great Eddie! So comfy! Any omega would be lucky to have a lovely nest like that.” This is what Steve loves about Robin as an alpha, as a pack member, as a person. Robin will be the first to say she talks too much, that she rambles, that she doesn’t know when to shut up, but Robin says the right things with the right tone. She knows how to comfort you, how to make you laugh, and how to knock some sense into you when you need it. When she compliments Eddie’s nest, his face lights up and he purrs again. He’s so happy, the smell fills the room.

Nancy smiles at Eddie, tells him, “It looks so comfy, Eddie. I bet you’re going to take a good nap in that nest, huh?”

Eddie flops back into the nest, rolls around a bit, then curls up into a ball like… Like a puppy… He’s so cute Steve could die. He nods to them, glassy eyes getting heavy. Steve can tell from where he’s standing Eddie’s still warm, probably gotten even warmer since he started working on the nest.

“Alright, well, you go ahead and nap, Eddie. We’re going to go,” Nancy says, turning to leave, the others following suit, when Eddie whines.

“No,” he says, pouting up at them from his nest.

“Do… You want us to come in your nest?” Robin asks.

“No,” Eddie says very adamantly.

The three of them share a look, not sure what to do. Then Nancy asks, “Do you want Steve in your nest?”

“Yessssss,” Eddie says, stretching out like a cat then reaching his hand to Steve.

Ok, it’s honestly kind of a big deal that Eddie wants Steve in his nest. Steve wouldn’t let Robin in his nest for the first cycle they spent together, and even after that, his mood on whether or not he wanted her there was fickle. Now he needs her there like he needs the water she makes him drink so he doesn’t get dehydrated, but it wasn’t an immediate thing. So Steve’s kind of shocked that Eddie wants him in his nest.

But he’s also deeply pleased, a primal part of his brain preening at being chosen.

Steve stands still frozen for a moment before Robin shoves him towards the bed (Robin again with the shoving!). He fumbles a bit, almost falling into the bed, but he catches himself on his hands, face to face with Eddie. “Are you sure he asks?”

And Eddie, hazy and warm, gives him the softest smile (really, Steve is going to die), and says, “Yes. Very.”

Robin and Nancy are waving goodbye and just like that, Steve is in Eddie Munson’s nest with a warm omega koala-gripping his front and jamming his nose into Steve’s scent gland. Steve softly laughs. It tickles.

They fall asleep smiling.

#steddie #steddie fanfic #omega eddie munson #omega steve harrington #stranger things fic #katpost #my writing #we love omega x omega in this house

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niki-phoria · 10 months

Note

omg you do song fics?😍 can i request a bi!soobin x male reader to “i do” by g-idle?

pairing: bi!uni student!soobin x uni student!male!reader (referred to as a boy once) genre: fluff (??) a little angsty word count: 1.1k

includes: confession fic, uni au, ending is a little weird, reader cries, didn't want this to be too angsty, my greatest apologies if your name is mina lol

a/n: thank you for requesting !! i don't mind doing songfics at all :)) i hope you like it <33

soobin lets out a soft sigh as he enters your shared apartment. his bag crumbles in a small heap on the floor beside his bed before he wanders over to you. he all but collapses onto your mattress beside you, making you softly chuckle.

you set your phone aside; instagram feed long forgotten as you shift to lay down next to him. soobin buries his face into one of your pillows. his tense body relaxes slightly when you reach over to gently rub a hand against his back.

“are you okay?” soobin simply hums in response, though the strangled noise is muffled by his arms and the pillows he’s laying against. “bad day?”

despite the pillow blocking his face, you can see him nod slightly. a small smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you pat his thigh. “come here, bin.”

the boy perks up immediately at your words. you chuckle as he wastes no time in making himself comfortable in your lap. his head rests against your thighs; the rest of his body curled up on your twin sized bed. he smiles to himself as you begin to play with his hair, twisting the soft strands between your fingers.

you fall into a comfortable silence together for a few minutes before you notice soobin catch his bottom lip between his teeth. his jaw clenches the darker the thoughts clouding his brain become. he absentmindedly fidgets with his fingers as you continue raking your fingers through his dark locks.

“hey,” you whisper, catching soobin’s attention. he looks up at you through his dark fringe - your cue to continue. “what’s on your mind?”

a soft sigh escapes his lips. his gaze shifts up to stare at the ceiling. he studies the drywall adorning your dorm room as if an answer is hidden in the material.

“someone gave me a love letter… earlier today,” he finally says.

i don’t even know how to think

‘cause now she got your heart, so i feel stupid, foolish

you pause your movements almost instantaneously as the words leave his lips. they linger uncomfortably in the air like a thick fog that clouds your judgement. tension holds you both captive in the room. you feel like a caged animal - the chains of your own feelings tightly wrapped around your limbs and keeping you trapped exactly where you are.

you can nearly feel your heart stop beating in your chest. your breath catches in the back of your throat. an unfamiliar feeling of heartbreak curls inside of your stomach. it slinks through your intestines - working it’s way upwards to press against your chest.

“who was it from?” your voice trembles, though you hope soobin can’t hear the anxiety that drips from each word.

“mina.”

you know mina from your english class. she had silently slipped into the room after getting lost on her way to the lecture hall. she has a bright smile and kind eyes. even you can admit her laugh is contagious. it lights up every room she’s in. she’s perfect. perfect for soobin.

‘fraid i’m losing everything i thought i couldn’t

my whole world is fallin’ apart

you swallow your grief, forcing it deep into your chest. “she’s nice,” you murmur. “pretty. i like her. she’d be good for you.” but i would be better.

soobin hums. his eyes meet yours momentarily before he stares up at the ceiling once again. “do you really think so?”

you remain silent for a few seconds. you refocus on playing with soobin’s hair, letting the methodical action calm your racing heartbeat. a shaky sigh leaves your lips before you speak again. “do you like her?”

“i don’t know.” he pauses, anxiously tugging his bottom lip between his teeth again - a nervous habit you had always found particularly attractive. “i think i like someone else.”

don’t you go fallin’ in love

trust me, she’s not the one

a small spark of hope ignites in your chest before you quickly stomp it out. you’re roommates. two university students who happened to be assigned to the same dorm room. you’re friendly because you’re both introverted and spend most of your time around each other. your skinship is simply two boys being friendly - nothing more.

“soobin,” you murmur. tears sting at the corners of your eyes. they threaten to roll down your cheeks. you bite your tongue in an attempt to hold them back to little avail.

soobin sits up from your lap, furrowing his eyebrows in concern. “what’s wrong?” he whispers. the warm hand he places against your knee does little to soothe your aching heart, though you appreciate the gesture nonetheless.

you stare down at your hands, anxiously fidgeting with the rings on your fingers. soobin gently begins to rub small shapes against your leg in an attempt to calm you down. you twist the thin, cool metal against your skin as you mentally prepare yourself for rejection. anger. heartbreak.

“i’m in love with you.”

she won’t ever love you like i do

hold you like i do, know you like i do

the words come out as little more than a broken whisper. soobin’s movements stop momentarily - though what was realistically a few seconds feels like an eternity of waiting.

“y/n,” soobin finally whispers. his voice is soft. gentle. you bite down on your tongue harder. tears slowly begin to roll down your cheeks; at first in single drops before streams quickly begin falling from your eyes.

you’re unable to prevent the choked sob that escapes when soobin cups your cheek. his touch feels far too intimate to be just from a roommate. an acquaintance.

soobin brushes his thumb against your cheek, wiping away the tears as fast as they come. you go limp in his arms when he pulls you into a tight hug, keeping you tightly pressed against his chest. “i’m sorry,” you murmur into the crook of his neck. embarrassment mixes with your grief. your head aches at the sudden flood of emotion. “i don’t wanna lose you.”

“you won’t,” soobin whispers. he rubs a hand against your back. you let the feeling soothe you - at least momentarily. “you never will.” he gently coaxes you away from his neck so you’re looking into his dark eyes. “i love you too.”

you sniffle, hesitantly looking up at him once again. “really?”

“really.” soobin pulls you back into a hug, letting you cling to his body. he presses a kiss against your forehead as his arms snake around your waist. “i love you, y/n."

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bts-0t-7 · 7 months

Text

Next Chapter

Pair: Taehyung x F Reader

Summary: You missed two cycles. Not that it wasn’t common for you but you felt like it was much more than just that. So, keeping it a secret from Tae, you went to a doctor to solidify your doubts. And no doubt, it was happy news to bring back home.

Genre: Fluff, Idolxreader, established relationship, wifey reader, married couple au, a little bit of suggestive themes (but we aren’t doing that today, yeah?), pregnancy

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of infertility, trouble conceiving

Remember that you aren’t alone and if you ever need a helping hand, our fellow social services, friends, and family will always be there for us :) If anybody is going to be insensitive on this topic on my blog, you will be blocked. Happy reading! Borahae💜

A/N: Bold is for flashback.

WC: 1410

You couldn’t believe it. You just couldn’t believe it.

You have sworn something was wrong. You knew something was odd with your body and when your period skipped the next month, you went straight to the pharmacy. In a box, there were three test kits.

And when the timer beeped, you stared at these three test kits, all holding the same result.

Pregnant. 7 weeks.

In shock, wouldn’t be a safe word to use. You were filled with mixed emotions. You and Taehyung have been trying for almost a year now. You were almost certain you couldn’t conceive. Your periods have never been regular and it wasn’t an easy feat through when your menstruation cycle was around. So you had told Taehyung about your thoughts about having kids. Back then, the both of you were dating, and you knew Taehyung was big on having a family.

“Tae-”

“No, Y/N. It’s alright. We try and if we can’t, it’s okay.” Taehyung soothed you.

“But I know that you really want kids and I don’t think I will be able to give them to you.” Your doctors have told you that your body has been weak since young and due to the accumulated stress, it did not do the growth of your body well.

“Y/N,” Taehyung cupped your face, bringing it closer to his. He suddenly squished your cheeks, making your eyes widen in surprise. “All I need is you.”

Staring at the three tests on the washroom counter, you had to physically hold yourself up by gripping onto the edges of the sink. You needed to make sure - make sure that it was real before you go running to tell your husband.

So you booked an appointment with your doctors and they told you the same thing the tests did.

“Around seven weeks.” Dr Kim had given you a soft smile, handing you the pictures of the ultrasound scan.

You headed out of the hospital after payment, brain yet to comprehend the knowledge you were given in a span of twenty minutes. You needed to tell Tae. Taehyung was the only thing on your mind.

Staring back down at your ultrasound scan, you truly couldn’t believe your eyes.

You headed to the nearest crafting store, picking out a ball of yarn, boxes, and crafting paper. Heading home, you were more careful than usual, afraid any sudden movements might hurt your child. Albit dumb if you were to tell your parents about what you were doing, but you couldn’t help but feel a little overprotective of the life growing inside you.

It was a little past four in the afternoon and you decided to take a bath to get rid of the hospital smell. After drying your hair, you turned the television on and knitted while watching the latest ‘Run BTS!’.

You stopped knitting after a while, placing your hand on your currently unnoticeable bump, saying, “That’s your dad and uncles. When you come into this world, you sure are going to be spoiled rotten.” You chuckled. You were the first among the girls to have gotten pregnant as of the information yesterday.

You had told Hwani, Jin’s wife, three days ago. News spread fast within the group but you were more surprised that the boys had yet to catch on, seemingly that all their girlfriends and wives were gossiping over baby materials.

Once you finished the little gift, you placed it in the box onto some crafting paper and the ultrasound. Wrapping the box with a ribbon, you proceeded to the kitchen to make dinner. Small, sharp barks could be heard as you walked to the kitchen.

You bent down to collect Yeotan’s bowls. He was extremely chirpy today, following you everywhere and constantly going in between your legs. If you hadn’t known better, you would have said he was being protective. Placing his food bowls back into the tray, you gave Yeotan a scratch between his ears.

Just as you finished setting the table, the door code chimed and Yeotan’s uncontrollable barking started again. You wiped your hands dry on your shirt as you walked out, greeting Taehyung with a kiss at the threshold of the main door.

“Well, it’s not like I don’t like it. Rather the opposite, honestly. But I’m tired Jagiya. I don’t think I can do it today.”

You rolled your eyes. “Can’t I just kiss my husband when he gets home?”

Taehyung looked at you suspiciously. “Of course you can but you normally have an ulterior motive.”

Let’s talk about selective hearing. It refers to hearing what you choose to hear and blank out everything else. You ignored the second half of the sentence, pulling your whiny husband to the living room and plopping him down onto the sofa.

“Babe…” He called you warningly.

You headed over to the coffee table, carefully picking up the elegantly wrapped gift and placing it in his hands. Taehyung’s brows shot up, disappearing between his hair.

“What’s this?” He took out his phone, confusion showing on his face. Oh, he’s always been an expressive one. “I don’t think I forgot anything? I swear today - is it our anni - wait no, that’s in three weeks.” Taehyung looked up with a face you knew too well.

The TaTa Mic face.

“Babe, I swear if I forgot anything, I’ll make it up to you.”

You sighed, caving into the look. If ARMY can’t even grasp a standing ground to the Tata Mic face, you surely stand an even lesser chance against it.

“You didn’t forget anything, love.” You pointed back to the box. “Just.. Just open it.”

Taking a deep breath, you watch as Taehyung undoes the ribbon and opens the box. Watched as his brows furrowed even more, lip jutting out in a pout at the sight of the mittens you have knitted this afternoon. Watched as the gears in his brain turned the moment his eyes spotted the ultrasound picture beneath it. And as if in slow motion, you saw Taehyung’s eyes enlarge the moment the pieces clicked together.

His head shot up so fast you were afraid he got a whiplash.

“Serious? Serious!” Taehyung dropped to his knees. Thank god there was a carpet on the floor. His hands were shaking as you grasped them in yours, placing them on your stomach. “Jagiya, Jagiya, you aren’t kidding with me, right?”

His eyes shone with so much light that it was blinding to see.

You shook your head.

“We’re going to be parents, Tae.” Your voice wavered, tears coming forth, spilling over onto your cheeks.

Taehyung looked down at your hands cupping your stomach and stared at it. He lifted your shirt in one motion, causing a gasp to fall from your lips. He brought his lips to your stomach, kissing it gently.

“Hi, babyyyy…” Taehyung cooed. “You’re going to be the prettiest baby ever.”

You chuckled.

Taehyung got up from his knees, cupping your face and kissing your lips. “And you are going to be the best mom ever.”

“How do you know that?” You asked between his never-ending kisses.

Leaning your foreheads together, Taehyung answered in his most famous way, “‘Cause it’s you.”

You smiled.

At that moment, you were surrounded by love. You have never felt so high on such a joyous emotion before. As you looked down at Taehyung talking to your stomach, you felt so, so, so, grateful for the future you created together. Through thick and thin, the both of you have found a way to strengthen your connection, working together.

The warmth of his love and joy radiates the whole house. And as your eyes locked, it was as if nothing else mattered at that moment - only you, Tae, and your unborn baby. Time seemed to still as the both of you looked at each other, so much affection and excitement in one’s eyes.

And you knew - you just knew - that you were going to be okay. That as long as you had Tae by your side, you were going to be okay.

As the both of you got up from the sofa, Tae suddenly pulled you into his arms, stopping you from walking any further from him. “You know what I said just now at the door? I take it back. I can definitely do it today.”

Your cheeks turned deep red as you smacked his arms.

“Kim Taehyung!”

His bellowing laughter followed you all the way to the kitchen.

#btsfanfiction #bts #love #fluff #btsff #femalereader #idolxreader #kimtaehyung #v #taetae #tatamicface #bangtan #V #pregnacy #pregnant reader #pregnancy announcement #little tae

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godihatethiswebsite · 8 days

Text

Desert Oasis

✽ Johnny "Soap" Mactavish x f!reader (The Mummy AU)

Main Masterlist

°•. ✿ .•°.•° ✿ °•.°•. ✿ .•°.•° ✿ °•.°•. ✿ .•°

✽ Part 2 - Cultivating a curious mind

You know what? I blame @dragonnarrative-writes for all of this. It's all their fault for poking this part of my brain in the first place even though I was originally just trying to poke theirs ><

There were only so many places you'd been allowed to go growing up even with a chaperone at your side. Mother brought you up the way any well respected young lady should be, and to be honest you felt much more at home in your skirts and dresses working on your drawings in the parlor than you did climbing over the fence in your backyard like your cousin convinced you to. But your father worried Kyle was improperly rubbing off on you and wanted to find you something to fill your head with where you could still be kept an eye on.

His solution: the Museum of Antiquities in Cairo.

After all, how much trouble could you get into reading about dead guys? At least they wouldn't be trying to chase your skirts as you got older.

Father owned his own shipping company that dealt with the transport of goods and wares, ancient artifacts included. He knew the people who were in charge of the facilities and thought this could be a replacement for the adventures your cousin liked to try to drag you on.

The beautifully painted sarcophagi drew in your imagination like a moth to a flame, chiseled sculptures and pillars depicting ancient beings far different than the god you'd been brought up believing in. And weren't you just the most well behaved little girl when your father brought you along on his business trips. All he had to do was put a book in your hand about the Old Kingdom and you'd stay seated right where he left you until it was time to leave. The drawings in your room turned less from pretty landscapes and fresh vases to imitations of the reliefs you'd seen from photographs of burial chamber walls. Your mother was slightly alarmed at first, but once she saw you still happily keeping up with your piano lessons and needlework she quickly gave in.

Once you were old enough to walk around the city by yourself, you stopped by the museum at least once a week just to spend hours wandering the halls - sometimes more if you noticed a new shipment of wares showing up on your father's ledgers that week slated for delivery. Always so eager to witness the unveiling of new items even if they'd never get put on display. One of the perks of growing up around the loading docks and being a sweet well mannered child to the workers.

You didn't work at the museum with Dr. John Price, but you'd frequented there an awful lot to have come to decent terms with the man. Always gruff, a bit rough around the edges, but boy did he have a mind for antiquities.

He wasn't always the easiest man to deal with; someone who didn't have time for the stupidity that came with being around the uneducated masses during business hours. He'd been working there in some capacity or another since you'd first became a patron, though back in those days he'd been a lot less rigid.

At one point you'd been barred from looking at a book that your father deemed had too much suggestive material in it - it was a tome about Tawaret, goddess of childbirth and fertility - and sent over to your favorite reading chair with something about Pepi II instead. Try as you might you couldn't get into it, mind still lingering on the forbidden subject which was just the latest in your stream of mythology research. You'd been half-heartedly flipping through the pages when a shadow passed you by and casually deposited the desired reading material in your lap, not even bothering to glance your way as he kept moving and turned down another aisle. He was clean shaven back then, but he'd made an impression as a kindred spirit willing to look the other way.

Now almost twenty years later you did your best to stay out of his way and disturb him as little as possible, but every so often you'd be fortunate enough to stumble upon him on a good day where he'd indulge you on certain topics of conversation that flowed smoothly, allowing you to see the lingering passionate twinkle of a younger man hiding behind eyes so full of wisdom and tired experience.

(And if you happened by chance to occassionally pass by a tall, large, tank of a dark robed man waiting patiently for his turn to have an audience with Price on your way out of his office - following you with his deep brown eyes and a cloth cover shrouding the lower half of his face from view - you kept your gaze to the floor and gave him a wide respectful berth, only risking a glance back at the individual long enough to see the broad planes of his back disappearing behind Price's door with a click of the lock)

[Edited 5/8/24: changed formatting, title, tags, and numbering system]

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