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ramblingthoughtsofayoungadult · 6 months

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Bad PR-Jordan Li Fic

A/N: I saw someone post about needing a fic about Jordan being in a relationship where they're "unmarketable" and haven't been able to get the idea out of my head since. This is written with a black reader in mind. I also have a sequel in mind if anyone wants it.

Word Count: 3739

Warnings: Some sensuality and swearing.

I don't claim to own any characters or property from Gen V or The Boys. All credit to the original gif creators.

Silence was something that I always thought I longed for. Every day for the past twenty years, there was noise, whether it was someone (usually multiple) talking, music blasting, cars going by, or screaming. By now, I thought I would have learned how to tune it out and focus on what was most important: save the little kids from a burning school, study as hard as I could to get into GOD U, and manipulate social media algorithms so much it would make tech experts’ heads spin.

But, I hadn’t. Then, I thought I got used to the noise, the demands to take pictures with total strangers, the background noise of a song I was doing a TikTok challenge to, Liza, my Vought-assigned PR rep, and my parents insisting on what I should wear, and the constant buzzing in the back of my head that my ability caused. However, as I laid on Jordan’s bed, listening to them ramble about Brink, I didn’t mind the noise so much.

“I mean, he’s kind of a mad genius but for good,” Jordan stated. Then, they turned to me with a sheepish smile on their face. “Sorry, I’m boring you, aren’t I?”

I shook my head. “No, no, it’s alright. Brink’s brilliant and it’s amazing that you’re his mentee.” I pushed myself up onto my elbows. “Besides, you’re pretty cute when you’re excited.”

Jordan rolled their eyes and slowly made their way towards me, stopping right at the foot of their bed. “Only when I’m excited?”

“Shut up, you know you always look good,” I teased.

They playfully flipped their hair and batted their eyes. “Well, we can’t all have a glam squad on call so I appreciate it.”

I scoffed, rose to my knees, and playfully pushed their shoulder only for them to switch to their masculine form and grab my hand. “That’s not fair and I didn’t even ask for them, my parents and Liza insisted on it when I got in.”

Jordan nodded but I could tell they weren’t listening since their eyes were on my lips. “I don’t feel like talking anymore.”

Something about their deeper masculine voice sent tingles down my spine and made my stomach feel fuzzy. Then again, they easily caused the same effect in both forms. My breath caught in my throat as soon as our lips touched, and I could feel my heart rate pick up. I tried to relax in their gentle but firm grip as I wrapped my hands around their neck, but it was easier said than done.

Suddenly, my back was against their bed and the kissing got more fervent. Jordan slipped their tongue down my throat and trailed one of their hands down my leg. I shivered as they pulled my leg up around their hip and pressed further into me.

“I should’ve known this is what you meant when you said you wanted to hang out,” I breathed after pulling away for a second.

“I had good intentions but you kept screwing me with your eyes,” Jordan huffed back.

“No, I---” Jordan cut me off, switching to their feminine form and kissing my jaw, working their way down my neck. “Not…fair.”

One of their hands slowly started trailing up under my (their) sweatshirt and I tried to stifle my giggles at the soft touch. After a couple of seconds, I couldn’t help but start giggling and covered my face when Jordan paused their actions and looked up at me.

“Still ticklish?” Jordan teased.

“Shut up, it’s your fault since they're your hands,” I groaned through another laugh.

Jordan smirked at me and ran their hands down my waist, gently tapping my sides, causing more laughter on my end. I tried to reach for their hands to stop them but they were too good at dodging me. At some point during my laughter, my phone started ringing.

“Ignore it,” Jordan whined as they pressed their head against my stomach, their big brown eyes somehow looking bigger and browner than usual.

“I can’t,” I whined back as I pulled away from them and grabbed my phone from my desk. “It’s Liza, I have to answer.”

Jordan rolled their eyes. “That bitch has the worst timing.”

“She might not be able to help it.” I quickly answered the phone. “Hey, Liza.”

“Y/N, I’m on campus and we need to talk ASAP. Meet me outside the Crimefighting building in five,” Liza rattled off.

“Oh, sure, what’s it about?” I asked.

“I’ll tell you when I see you.”

She clicked off and I turned to Jordan, who was much less than pleased.

“Let me guess, you have to go,” they said.

“I’m sorry, it sounded important,” I said as I started grabbing my stuff from around their room. “I’ll try to make it quick.”

“No, don’t worry about it.” They pushed themselves off the bed and stood in front of me, gently grabbing my hands in theirs. “It’s your career and I’m proud of you. I knew what I was getting into when the Cyclone became my girlfriend.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Ugh, don’t say it like that. But I appreciate you and I will show you as much later.” I quickly kissed them and grabbed my shoes. Just as I was about to leave, I paused at something in their closet. “Is that my jacket?”

Jordan shook their head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I snatched the item from the closet and held it out. “Jordan, you’re going to try to convince me that you’re into vintage Yves Saint Laurent?”

“Your taste rubbed off on me,” they said with a shrug.

“I’m flattered.” I put it back in their closet.

“By the way, do you know where my black hoodie went?”

“See you later!”

About four and a half minutes later, I was sitting at an outdoor table with Liza and my parents. Despite the summer heat, Liza was wearing a navy skirt suit, and her graying black hair was tied into a severe bun on the top of her head. She was typing on two different phones and her laptop simultaneously, deep blue eyes never staying on anything too long. My mom, who sat on my right, smiled kindly.

“So, Y/N, how does it feel to be a junior?” she asked.

“Great, Mom. I thought I told you and Dad that you didn’t have to hover this much since I am a junior now,” I said, glancing at my dad who was on my other side.

“We’re not hovering, it’s been two days since we dropped you off,” Dad insisted. “Besides, this is about business.”

“Wha---”

“Oh my gosh, is that Y/N Y/L/N?” Someone squealed behind me.

“Show time,” I sighed.

The “someone” was actually two someones, a pair of what looked like freshmen. One was a tall, pretty brunette in a white graphic tee and matching mini skirt and the other was an equally pretty, slightly shorter brunette wearing jean shorts and Vans. The taller one held her V-Phone with a death grip.

“Can we take a picture with you?” The taller one asked.

“Of course.” I stood from my seat and made my way over to them.

“I can take it.” But before my mom could stand, Liza shot up from her seat, grabbed the phone, and ushered us closer together.

“Okay, Y/N in the middle, Tall Girl on the left, Short One on the right,” Liza instructed, eyes never looking up from the camera.

“It’s Ashley,” the short one said.

“Smile!”

I did as I was told and the girls were walking away before I could even say an obligatory, “No problem.”

Both my parents smiled as I sat back down.

“It’s great to see that you’re still popular after all this time,” Dad said, his eyes hidden behind his tinted sunglasses.

“As she should be. Y/N has thirty million followers across all her social media and she does amazing in the Midwest and the South, both tough demographics for young black women,” Liza stated.

“Thanks, Liza,” I said, mindlessly playing with the ends of my butterfly locs. “So, you mentioned you were coming but left out my parents.”

At this, Liza finally paused from typing and looked up at me. She slowly set her elbows on the table and rested her chin on top of her pale hands. My head involuntarily started shaking from side to side and Liza lifted one of her hands.

“Let me speak first, Y/N, and then we can argue about it,” Liza stated.

“The last time you said that, I ended up almost getting mauled by a dog during an animal shelter livestream,” I hissed.

“Well, the dog had a serious history of trauma,” Liza insisted.

“You didn’t inform me of that before insisting I cuddle with it for the camera!”

“It was a learning lesson: you are fantastic under pressure.”

I huffed and folded my arms over my chest. “So, what is this about?”

Liza assumed her previous “Serious business” pose. “Like I was saying, you’re doing fantastic numbers. That last TikTok you and Cate did hit a hundred million views in less than twenty-four hours.”

“The ‘Rover’ challenge wasn’t that hard,” I commented.

“That’s amazing!” Mom practically cheered.

“That’s my girl,” Dad said, wrapping his arm around my shoulders.

I smiled despite the strong sense that a “but” was coming.

“However,” Liza continued.

Uh oh.

“My job is to do everything in my power to make sure everyone associates Y/N Y/L/N and Cyclone with beauty, intelligence, grace, taste, and power. So, we are a little concerned about Jordan.”

Immediately, my shoulders tensed and I gritted my teeth. “Who exactly is ‘we’?” I glanced at my parents.

Mom’s eyes widened and I had no idea what Dad was doing.

“No, of course not, Sweetie, we love Jordan. They have been a fantastic influence on you,” Mom insisted.

I could feel my face warm up about what had transpired with Jordan a few minutes ago. I doubt that would fall under “good influence”, or any time we went out with the others.

“And they give you a run for your money when it comes to combat. You need someone challenging like them. Plus, that Luke boy isn’t bad either,” Dad added.

As their words sunk in, I had a strange feeling that my parents were there to lessen a Vought-sized blow. My suspicions were confirmed when Liza’s lips pressed more firmly together and she was glancing at one of her phones.

“Are you reading a script right now?” I seethed.

Liza’s head shot up and she shook her head. “No, no, Y/N, not at all. Just some notes.” She quickly regrouped. “I understand that you’re happy and you’re probably having some fantastic sex right now----”

“Liza!” I interrupted, praying that the ground would open and swallow me whole.

Suddenly, Dad’s arm was back at his side, and Mom was suddenly very captivated by a pair of seniors skateboarding past.

“But the facts are that a bi-gender Asian supe is not marketable in the Deep South or the Midwest,” Liza said. “I am not shaming Jordan for who they are but, my job is to sustain your relatable-but-unattainable brand and not let anything get in the way of it.”

“You’re saying my partner is a threat to my career?” I asked, my voice much hollower than I intended.

“Potentially. Now, I have come up with a very good alternative.” Liza turned her laptop so it was facing my parents and me. On it was a picture of Andre and some clips of us on social media. “Andre Anderson tested very well. Our focus group members responded positively to the black power couple aesthetic.”

“We’ve met him before, he’s nice,” Mom offered.

“He’s cool and I’ve met his dad and I could see us all getting along,” Dad mentioned.

My head was swirling with so many thoughts that I was convinced I was either going to be overwhelmed by them or find one that was coherent enough to state. My mouth settled on, “It’s the twenty-first century and you’re all telling me I have to break up with my partner because of demographics? Jordan’s an amazing supe and they’re so smart, it’s scary. They can do---will do so much good and the only thing you care about is optics?”

Mom gently touched my arm. “Y/N, please, calm down.”

When I glanced around, I noticed that several Vought-A-Burger wrappers, a couple of cigarettes, and a few panicked squirrels and rabbits were swirling around the table. Quickly, I released the small animals and put the trash in the nearby receptacle.

“Sorry about that,” I muttered, eyeing Liza.

“I understand that you have strong feelings for Jordan but, think about it. With the right moves, you could be living in The Tower with the legends of your generation. Sure, you’re number three at GOD U right now, but this status can easily go away. You’ve worked your entire life to be the hero that little black girls everywhere look up to. Don’t take Cyclone away from them before she even starts,” Liza warned.

I desperately wanted to say something snarky, but my mind was blank. The only thing I could sense was my throat tightening up and my eyes beginning to well. I brushed a loc out of my face to play it off and tried to gain my thoughts.

“How much time do I have before I make a decision?” I asked.

“Twenty-four hours. I’ll be looking out for your call, text, email, or video call,” Liza stated as she started to pack her things.

My parents stood and Mom gave me one of her warm hugs and Dad pulled me to his side.

“It will be okay, Y/N,” he whispered.

I swallowed the giant lump in my throat to thank him and then insisted on walking them back to their car.

A few hours later, Elle Woods was sobbing in the fanciest restaurant in California while I carefully placed my baking pan in the oven. As much as I wanted to sob, I had no time for tears, I had to think. The thinking led me to have so many circular thoughts that my head spun and I resorted to baking and watching my favorite movie.

If Elle could solve a murder case and exonerate her client as a first-year law student, I should be able to figure out this PR mess. On the one hand, I was happier with Jordan than I’ve ever been with anyone. On the other hand, my dreams and my family’s position were hanging by a thread.

Maybe it was better that I channeled my energy into baking cupcakes.

I exhaled a small gust of wind to clear the bowls and utensils from the counter and place them in the dishwasher. Then, I focused on pushing multiple gusts of wind from my hands to clean the counters and wash the dishes. By the time I was done, I was exhausted and flopped on my couch to mindlessly watch the movie.

Unfortunately, the bright and colorful backdrop of Elle’s LSAT studying montage did nothing to take my mind off my dilemma. All I could think about was Jordan’s face when I told them. Breaking up with them would be like shooting a puppy’s mom in front of the puppy and making it watch it bleed out.

How would I tell them anyway? Hey, babe, I’m sorry I had to run out on us almost hooking up to meet with Liza and my parents. Funny story, they want me to break up with you so that I have a shot at a career and date Andre instead. See you for that morning lecture?

Knock! Knock! Knock!

The sound jolted me from my thoughts, and I pushed myself off the couch to answer it. “Rufus, if you try to get me into your room again, I swear to----” I cut myself off at the sight of Jordan, in their feminine form, staring back at me.

They wore a navy sweatshirt and black sweatpants. Also, their cheeks were more flushed than usual and they smelled like their sandalwood body wash, meaning they had probably stopped by the gym recently.

“Is Rufus bothering you again? I’ll go murder him right now,” Jordan said.

I quickly grabbed their wrist. “No, I appreciate the thought but I’m fine, besides, I can take care of myself.”

“I know but I can’t help but worry.”

A strange warm, tingling sensation ran its way from the center of my chest throughout the rest of my body. I was sure that if someone listened closely enough, they would hear me buzzing.

I stepped aside to let Jordan in and leaned against the door to close it. “So, what brings you by?”

They wandered over to my couch, sat down, and grabbed my phone off the coffee table. “Because you haven’t been answering my texts or calls.”

“Crap, I am so sorry, Jordan, I’ve just had a lot on my mind.”

Jordan glanced around my dorm. “I can see that.” They sniffed the air. “Legally Blonde and you’re baking, what happened at the meeting?”

Of course, Jordan would cut straight to the point. Usually, this kind of banter was pleasant but my stomach was in knots as Liza’s words and my parents’ expressions replayed in my mind.

“What? I can’t bake and watch a comfort movie after a last-minute PR meeting?” I asked rhetorically, crossing the room to my desk to start organizing my textbooks.

“Don’t try to deflect, Y/N. Tell me what happened.” Their voice was gentle but firm and I knew that they were not going to let me out of this conversation.

So, I set Brink’s latest book down and sat across from Jordan on my tangerine accent chair. I prayed that I would find the right words to say before blurting them out. As soon as I made eye contact with them, my chest tightened.

“Well, Liza surprised me by having my parents join us,” I started.

Jordan raised their eyebrows. “Shit, this is serious.”

“Uh-huh. Liza said that my numbers are doing great and I’m on track for a promising career.”

“And?”

I gulped. “And…she’s concerned that my personal choices might get in the way of that.”

Jordan frowned. “Personal choices? Every college kid known to man has done illicit substances and drank alcohol underage. You’ve never been caught doing any of that anyway.”

“You’re right but she wasn’t talking about partying; she was talking about us.”

As soon as the bomb rolled off my tongue, I saw its impact on Jordan, from the flashing expressions of confusion and anger to the clenching of their fists. I just wanted to make it stop.

“What?”

As I rambled Liza’s reasoning, I could sense the hurt and animosity flowing from Jordan. Once I finished, the timer for the cupcakes went off and I jumped up to grab them. I could have cried at the momentary escape as I set them on the counter to cool.

“She weaponized your desire to be a positive role model for other girls who look like you to screw you over,” Jordan said slowly.

I wiped my hands on my sweatpants. “Liza’s doing her job, babe, and she’s looking at all angles, including how it could impact my goals.” I returned to my seat and folded my hands in my lap.

“Her job is to make you choose between your relationship and your career?” Jordan asked. “That’s bullshit, this whole thing is.”

“I know, Jordan, trust me, I know, I almost started a small tornado when she said it.”

Jordan eyed me closely for a second. “What else did she say?”

“What?”

“I can tell you’re holding back, Y/N. Whatever else you have to say, it can’t be any worse.”

They might have just jinxed that.

“Liza thinks that Andre would be a better fit for me because a bunch of people like the idea of a black power couple.”

Jordan had two angry responses: the first was they would attempt to tear down anything and everything around them unless consoled. The second was they would become unresponsive and deal with all their rage internally. That night, I got the second one. Their eyes were hollow and the color drained from their face. My eyes welled up as I hoped for them to start screaming, swearing, or something, but nothing happened.

“But I don’t want to do it, Jordan, I think it’s so stupid.” I knelt in front of them, grabbed my phone from their hands, and set it aside to hold them. “My parents don’t even really agree with Liza because they know you and they think you’re awesome.”

“What do you think?” they muttered.

“Like I said, I think it’s stupid. We can figure something else out. Liza can spin us as the ultimate diverse power couple, huh?” I did my best to smile as widely as I could. “Come on, let’s forget about this. I made white velvet cupcakes with cream cheese filling. You can be my first taste tester once they cool.”

Things would work out, they had to. We would figure something out and survive our junior year at GOD U with little to no incidents. Suddenly, Jordan’s hands slipped from my grasp and they shifted to their masculine form.

“What if it doesn’t work out?” Jordan whispered.

“What do you mean?” I replied.

“I mean, you don’t necessarily have to be a supe but, I know that you’re scared for your parents. Your success has helped them a lot and it could destroy them if your reputation takes a hit,” they said. “And I’ve seen how little black girls light up when they see you now and how passionate you are about helping them and, I know that you’re just getting started and I don’t want to be in the way.” “Jordan…”

“I don’t want to hold you back anymore, Y/N,” they muttered.

Their words sunk deep into my core like a boulder and took all my words with it. I wanted to tell them that they could never hold me back and that they made me a better super, a better person. But all I could do was watch as they stood and walked out of my dorm, taking our one and a half year relationship with them.

#jordan li x reader #jordan li imagine #black!reader

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makethatelevenrings · 1 year

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Dick Grayson nsfw headcanons for v day

hehehehe

this boy is so talkative

before, during, and after his mouth is running faster than Wally West

"so pretty"

"squeezing me so tight"

"you look so good like this fucked out on my cock"

"what's that, baby? are you too cockdrunk to speak?"

his dick (haha) isn't very long, but it's certainly thick (much like him) and curves a little to the left

Dick loves to mark you up because when you undress, he can see the parts he has touched and loved

a hickey on your neck, a gentle love bite on your hip, the imprints of his fingers on your thighs where he held you down and ate you out

he's a switch 100%

sometimes he needs to be taken out of his head and so you take control and he appreciates it so much

he loves to serve you in any capacity, part of it is because he constantly feels the need to prove himself worthy of you no matter how many times you tell him that you don't need anything but his love

he'll quite literally get on his knees and worship you if you asked him

there are a few nights where he literally strips out of his suit and kneels on the floor, resting his head on your thigh as you stroke his hair

other times he's high-strung and needs to control the situation and you gladly accept submission under his hand

Dick is, ahem, very flexible and he will contort his body the perfect way to hit every fucking pleasure spot inside of you as he rams his cock into your hole

"made for me, weren't you? made to take my cock. perfect fucking fit, the way you're squeezing me so tight. god, i should just keep you home all day, sit you on my cock and keep you there"

hell yeah he does enjoy a good cockwarming

whether you're just holding his half-hard cock in your mouth or straddling his waist as he reads over some mission reports or paperwork for his Bludhaven revitalization. you're draped over his shoulders, face pressed against his neck as his cock twitches inside of your soaked hole. once he's done with his work, he'll fuck you until your legs can't stand

king of aftercare (all of the bat boys are tbh)

Dick is reaaaaally big on the verbal communication (again, the boy can't shut up) and he needs to hear reassurance from you that you're okay, that you liked it, what type of care you need

I don't think he's overly aggressive or into BDSM mainly because he doesn't want to use the same type of force that he uses on the criminal underworld on you

sweet boy but also not afraid to rough you up a little bit if you ask

just pls don't ask him to hit you because he would not be able to

aftercare for him is just cuddling and stroking his hair and assuring him that he's enough. he is good and kind and loving. he doesn't need to worry about you being unsatisfied.

all in all, he's a generous lover who overthinks too much and you might have to help him enjoy everything rather than dwell on stuff. also, he's a mouthy shit.

#valentine’s day series #dick grayson smut #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #nightwing smut #nightwing imagine

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smileysvech · 3 months

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dating jeremy swayman

nsfw under the cut, minors please dni

physical touch and quality time are his top love languages, you cannot convince me otherwise

he’s always wrapping his arms around you and pulling your body into his bigger frame to engulf you in a hug

he loves a good cuddle and getting to hold you in his arms while you rest your head against his chest so you can hear his strong and steady heartbeat

he spends so much of his time out in nature, away from his phone with no distractions, so if you went on a hike with him he'd be so present and in the moment with you

jeremy talks a lot about how he wants to work his ass off to earn every opportunity he gets to play and he has that mentality in the bedroom too… he will work to please you and do everything he can to earn the reward of making you cum

part of being a goalie is having intense focus and being dialed in so he would be incredibly focused on how your body responds to his touch and his voice and he’s able to read your body so well and knows just how to make you completely fall apart

he’s so patient and usually isn’t in a rush and likes to take his time with you and prefers slow and sensual yet passionate sex over a quick rough fuck (though he’s not entirely opposed to it)

but he will ALWAYS perform some good aftercare for you

he's so attentive when he's leaving soft kisses all over your skin as he cleans you up, checking in on you "you okay there, pretty girl?" and murmuring "you did so well, love you so much", massaging any part of your body that might be sore

he also plays guitar so we know he’s skilled with his hands

his fingers are probably calloused and a little rough but it feels amazing when he rubs them against your clit or when he finally slides them into your wet and waiting pussy

he’s got a praise kink (hello?? telling ully “I’m coming handsome!” and the “fuck she’s a good girl” clip that lives in my head rent free like he’s not afraid to give out compliments and loves to worship you!!!!!!!)

he’s often described as one of the most vocal goalies so he’s gotta be just as vocal in bed

he will let you know how good you make him feel with his deep moans and groans and breathy curses when your lips are wrapped around his cock or your pussy is fluttering and squeezing him

“fuck, that’s it. right there. feels so good. such a good girl for me.”

“keep doing that, baby.”

also BITING KINK

y’all seen the way he bites his jersey???

I just KNOW he would love biting and marking you up

maybe it starts off as just soft, slow kisses but soon the two of you have moved to the couch and you’re perched on his big lap straddling him while making out

one of his big hands has found its way into your hair at the base of your neck and with an ever so gentle tug he signals for you to lean your head back so he can detach his lips from yours and trail kisses from your shoulder to your collar bone and up your neck and jaw

he lets his teeth sink into your flesh and you wince a little bit at the stinging sensation but he quickly eases any of your discomfort when he runs his tongue along the mark he left on you

god he would love leaving bite marks and hickeys all over your neck and breasts

he would be so smug about it too, just leaning back and admiring his work with a little cocky smirk when you run your fingers over the marks he left you when you assess the damage in your bathroom mirror later

you roll your eyes at him, but truthfully you love it too because it’s a reminder that he wants you and you’re his girl

and how can we not discuss his confidence and cockiness?

the way he is always smirking and winking during warmups

AND HIS MANSPREADING

the man knows he's packing

I have it in my head that he loves when you sit on his lap and wrap your arms around him to keep your balance

and he LOVES when you ride him

he enjoys seeing the pleasure on your face as you take what you need from him, doing whatever it takes to get yourself off on him

and after he's sure you've had at least one orgasm, he'd take control and thrust his hips up and drive his cock into you deeper and deeper, finding your most sensitive spots to bring you to another earth-shattering orgasm

tagging a few of my fellow sway girlies: @pyotrkochetkov @senditcolton @barzysunflower @cellythefloshie

#WHAT DO I EVEN TAG THIS DUMPSTER FIRE OF SIN THAT NO ONE ASKED FOR #jeremy swayman #jeremy swayman imagine #jeremy swayman smut #jeremy swayman headcanon #nhl smut #dhdbbdsjjsjsjs the h**** brainrot really got to me and now here we are #this is still me pushing the sexy sway agenda #n e wayz enjoy!

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generalkenobee · 9 months

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A/N: ok so I know this probably won't get many likes or anything but I literally love Chase sm so I need to write this just for my well being because I've loved him since I was like ten, hope you enjoy 💖🩷

Warnings: sfw and nsfw headcannons, aged up!!!, FEM reader (kinda)

SFW headcannons

•hand holding is such a must with him

•he gives the best hugs, especially when he's in his black sweatpants and sleep sweater because everything is just so warm and gentle

•hes insanely touch starved

•Chase has never had a partner before you so you have to be patient with him, for example

-(Y/N), I don't know why you asked me for help with your homework, it was super easy

He would say laughing, not realizing that he hurt your feelings because you genuinely needed help

-(Y/N), I can't hold your hand right now I'm clearly working on this

Chase would say annoyed while still looking at the screen of his computer

•after a while and some help from you he's learned that a relationship takes time and consideration

•my man lovessss your stomach, no matter the size or if you have cellulite, stretch marks, he loves it so much

•loves to kiss you everywhere, especially because the whole touch starved thing. Chase is always placing a quick kiss to your cheek while he walks by you, first thing he does in the morning and before he goes to bed is kiss you

•physically can't sleep if you're not in the bed next to him

•nicknames he calls you

-sweetheart

-baby

-honey

•whenever he writes your name he always puts a little heart next to it

•usually falls asleep with his head resting on your chest with steady breathing

•loves to have you run your fingers through his hair while he falls asleep and scratch his scalp

•loves when you kiss all his moles and freckles, just basic beauty marks because it shows that you love every part of him

•he gets incredibly jealous of everyone. He's not used to people picking him and genuinely wanting to be with him over Adam for example

•always has mints, gum, or breath, spray on hand

•he takes extra precautions before seeing you (brushing his hair four times, showing twice, brushing his teeth over and over again, making sure hes wearing an outfit he'll know you'll like)

•soooo good with kids

NSFW headcannons

•lovessss when you pull his hair

•so loud, like soooo insanely loud. Moans, groans, and when he gets close whimpers

•he loves when you cockwarm him while he plays video games or when he's working on something

•eye contact while he trusts up into you, it's almost like his way of thanking you for being so vulnerable with him

•things chase says during sex

-s-shit..you feel so warm..s-so welcoming baby..

-this all for me?

-thank you thank you thank you..

-I love you so much...

-its so deep..I-I can feel all of you...

•chase tries not to ever cuss, he thinks there's smarter words to use..but when he's close it's like a whole new person

-f-fuck..fucking shit baby I'm oh my god I'm gonna, aungh..

•this one time you let spike fuck you and chase got upset because he didn't remember any of it, and he also felt jealous for some reason?

•sometimes when you walk by, you'll slap him on the ass through his jeans and he jumps up in fear every time

•lightly grazes his teeth over your neck during sex and you can feel his hot breath against your pulse..

•I feel like he really wants to cum on your face but is way to scared to ask

I HAVE SO MUCH MORE TO SAY ABOUT HIM SO IF YOU HAVE A REQUEST PLEASE SEND IT IN:)))

#x reader #chase davenport smut #chase #chase davenport #chase davenport lab rats #lab rats #lab rats TV #lab rats x reader #lab rats headcannons #lab rats smut #davenport #generalkenobee #chase davenport literally doesn't get enough attention and hes so fine like what?!-

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txtmetonight · 5 months

Text

Pouty Lips

call summary ⋆ ★ When sleepy, pouty lips gain a bit of attraction

pairing *. * Ot8 x Fem! Reader

genre⋆ ★ Fluff, Angst with comfort (Han's)

warnings *. * Crude language, Drinking, Fighting (Han), Petnames, Grammar

call duration⋆ ★ 4.4k

a/n*. * Thought of this when my lips were a bit swollen from sleeping in longer than I should've. Also didn't realize that the scenarios get longer as you read for each person until I was done writing. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

taglist ⋆ ★ @kflixnet

Chan · • . ° .

Sunlight was now deemed your biggest rival, though Chan thought the exact opposite. Whereas the blinding light was on a mission to wake you up, ripping you from your slumber, the same sunlight always cast a heavenly glow on you, and every morning it was Chan’s fulfillment to wake up before you to watch you glow, oh so beautifully.

He thought you were the most prettiest person he’d ever lay sight on, and God forbid him to ever miss the sight where you were so stunningly ethereal that it hurt. When his eyes fluttered open, he found you in his arms, wound to him as close as you could get. Chan’s mouth curls into a gentle smile as he traces his fingers against your face; your forehead then to your nose, to your cheeks, and then back to your nose before he drags his fingers over your lips.

Plump from the previous night and gathered into a pout, a strong pull forces him to softly connect his own lips with yours, noses brushing with each other before he peppers a couple of more. The way that he felt with you was mind-shattering and gut-wrenching, and with full honesty, he thought he was about to die...because he just loved you so much.

“Channie you’re worse than the damn sun” You whine, yet you cuddle right back into him, savoring the kisses he planted. “Really? Then you don’t want any more of my kisses?” You shoot your eyes open, trying to get used to the brightness as you shake your head, mumbling into his jaw. “You know what I mean...keep kissing me loser” He chuckles at your words while he raises your chin up to pucker your lips.

“You’re so cute, I think you’re doing something to my heart!” He locks lips with you once more, and this time he deepens the kiss, your fingers snaking through his hair, gently pulling on it. His hands slip under your nightwear to dig into your bare skin, pulling back when oxygen is needed. Chan’s soft touches slip you back into a world where it is just you two. Where you felt yourself melt into him, so mushy and soft.

“One more” You pout, and he just couldn’t say no.

Minho · • . ° .

“The cat looks just like Dori, No?”

But when you don’t respond, he looks down right at you, smiling at what he found. You’ve fallen asleep in his lap during the second round of the movie night, exhausted from the first after all your saved-up energy was wasted in hiding under the covers when the suspense got too intense, or flinching when the scene directed a jump scare.

So, Minho wasn’t quite surprised when he found you softly snoring against his neck, arms wrapped tightly around him. He softly brushes his hair out of your face, heart becoming full when he notices you chase after his warmth, shoving your cheek into his collarbone, having him giggle at how cute you are. Moments like this were always rare, due to his extremely hectic schedule, but when the time comes, and he’s trapped in your spangled web of love, the concept of a clock becomes unknown.

Sinking into a small sigh, he lowers the volume of the TV before he while himself getting tired, not that it was hard when your warmth engulfed him whole. Eyes blinking slowly, he yawns into your shoulder, absolutely enamored with you. You were just so kind and angelic, there’s not a moment that passes by where he wonders if you were truly a gift of God.

Because what did he do in his past life to have you?

Minho indulges in his own desires as he takes small selfish peeks at you, each time his eyes waver back to his face, they land on a different feature, a fun game that he likes to play with you. But when his vision gazes onto your lips, he’s a goner. It seems though that biting your lip throughout that movie had swollen them red and pink. He doesn’t dare to blink, but he does decide to lean closer to nuzzle your head, before he lands a long-lasting peck on the corners of your lips.

And right as he was about to do it again, he catches something; your lips had just twitched into a smile! Grinning brightly, he pokes at your cheeks and pulls you closer, landing kisses over kisses onto your lips, unable to hold himself back.

“You sly fox, you were awake this whole time!”

You start laughing into his desperate kisses, nodding and he really wishes that this moment could last forever.

Changbin · • . ° .

Blearily blinking your eyes, you yawn into your arms as you check the time, grumbling when you notice how late it has...and yet your boyfriend is still not here! With a chaste kiss to the cheeks, and lengthy hug because you didn’t want to let go, he promised that he wouldn’t stay too late at the gym again, that he would be right back in time for your home-cooked meals.

But as the time shows, his deadline expired thirty mins ago. It wasn’t that you were mad at him, nor were you in the ever so slightest disappointed, you just wanted your boyfriend by your side, where he didn’t overwork himself but rather sunk in the presence of comfort.

You knew him too well to know that he ached everywhere from head to toe, and he truly deserved a break, but it seems though that he doesn’t think the same. So, after many days of intricate planning, you had an amazing fool-proof plan!

You were just going to have him under your hold, refusing to let him go until he gave up!

Yet your eyes were starting to droop, and you felt yourself blank out several times with your head slowly swaying to an unknown beat. And before you know it, you’re knocked out cold and snoring, head slightly tilted to the side uncomfortably from the way you positioned yourself on the couch.

Sniffling in your sleep, you don’t notice the door slowly opening, creaking in its wake to let a very familiar person in, his eyes slightly enlarged when he catches a glimpse of you. Changbin as tired as he was, cracks a very small smile, electric buzzing shocking his veins alive. Even with hands splayed everywhere messily and your neck craned weirdly, he still knows that you’re the most beautiful person in this whole world.

He takes gentle steps, careful enough to not make a peep but he can’t help but gasp at you, leaving him quite breathless. Getting down on his knees, he kneels near your face while he slowly rubs your cheeks, while his eyes don’t leave your lips.

He shuts his lids and as though it was written in his blood, he leans forward and places a small kiss on your lips. And immediately you stir awake, subconsciously reciprocating it back to him, mumbling into the kiss.

“You stink Binnie, go take a shower!”

“I told you not to stay awake for me! Ho–hum guess I have to stay home tomorrow, for my tired baby” He laughs, before picking you up and taking your giggling figure into the bathroom with him.

Your plan had worked...in a way.

Hyunjin · • . ° .

When Hyunjin told you that you were his muse; his one and only, and the one that he wanted to draw for the rest of his life, you thought you were lucky. But now, you really preferred sleep and he was certainly not making it easy. His sharp eyes were trained on the canvas for a while, littered with the many colors of you, painting your personality and his whole heart onto the white space.

From the way that your lips quirked, or the way that your hair nestled on your forehead or even the slightest scrunch of your nose, he was unable to find a flaw in you. You were so lovely inside and out, and that’s why he fell in love with you the moment his eyes landed on yours in the quiet library, the music he was blasting through his headphones suddenly tuned out, because God you were so romantic and dazzling. And when he asked you right there and there to model for him, he knew that he was blowing in the right direction that his heart was pulling him towards.

His eyes drift upwards towards your own eyelids, ready to feature one of his favorite parts of you, but he finds them closed, barely even fluttering when the wind from the opening window slowly brushes a strand for you. Lips slacked open a little, and pouty from the way that you kept it when you quietly sulked to him that you were tired of being still, he thinks you look perfect.

Looking back to his canvas, he lovingly cuts through the paint with his small brush, capturing every detail of you perfectly. The sun outside beams at the fullness of hearts, one sleeping and the other admiring, it could stay out here forever, peeking through the beige curtains, watching the two lovers. Hyunjin stalks forward, and faintly bends down to your level, studying your lips.

"You're so pretty, babe,” He sighs before landing a kiss on you, knowing that you couldn’t hear him, rather too lost in your dreams to comprehend. Hyunjin wonders if you were dreaming about him? He stares at you, remembering a night when he was scrolling though his phone and a small video popped up, explaining that almost every person has three to four dreams at night, but you wake up amnesiac and forget them. It was so intriguing that he went as far as to even search it up, and it was true!

And even though he forgets his dreams, he knows that every single nightly dream was about you. Kissing you so sweetly just like he liked, holding you close to him, protecting you from everything evil.

Taking another look at you, he takes another swig at your lips, and he happily hums when you grin against him, tugging him forward by his hair, and he really figures that he should really paint him kissing you next, because honestly–you look best with your lips against his.

Jisung · • . ° .

Arguments weren’t actually that rare–they were more pitiful and stupid and were resolved in a few minutes if both parties tried hard enough. And for you, Han was always a little less stubborn, a little less demanding, and likewise from your side. But today was long and tiring, and he wasn’t sure if his mental and physical capability could even hold him up anymore.

So, when he walked in through the wooden door, trudging with rocks in his shoes like the previous nights, you were partly sure that this night was going to be eventfully bad, more so than the others. You rush to his side, take his heavy bag away from him, and close the door right behind him. You kiss his jaw and expect him to come to dinner, maybe you could even run him a warm bubble bath and join him, he had always liked that, but he decides to have different plans.

Han instead slumps towards the guest bedroom, leaving you behind in your apron with you calling his name. You were calm, you had to be, you weren’t scared of him (you scoffed at the thought), and you keep note that whatever he screamed at you doesn’t mean anything and never will.

But how far could you take his words to heart, before the organ explodes?

He didn’t mean to call you the worst girlfriend ever, he didn’t mean to compare you to his past exes, deeming them better when you both know that you’re the only one he’s ever had a healthy romantic relationship with, and he definitely didn’t mean to say that he didn’t love you and that he was going to leave soon enough.

The words puncture and deflate him internally right when your fleeting tears leave the doorway, letting the silence consume him whole. He winces at your shared bedroom softly close, and he thinks he would’ve felt a tad bit better if you had violently snapped it in your wake.

He wasn’t sure what to do now, but he was sure that you were going to leave him. And fuck he really didn’t want that. You were his oxygen, his blood, his light, food, water, home, everything. But he also knew that you adored space as much as he did, and he respected that. Yet his fingers ache to reach out to you, pretty quickly, and after much thought, he fulfills his wishes.

Pressing his ear against the door, his heart drops when he doesn’t hear a thing. Maybe you had left him for good, and it doesn’t blame you in the slightest, his mood had been sour for a while but you’ve been so good for him, when you shouldn’t have. Perhaps, enough was enough for you. Wet pearls track down his face, heart hammering heavily in his chest almost like a drum roll, preparing him for his worst.

But the unfavorable doesn’t come...because you’re still there, swaddled in a baby blue blanket, turned the other way. “(Y/n)” He softly calls, trying not to eat chew on his hand while sobbing into it. You don’t answer him, and he takes it that you’re probably ignoring him. But as he comes closer, he notices the deep breathing and your small snores

You were sleeping.

Smiling sadly, he perches on the floor, placing his arm in the small space on the bed, near your chest. He drinks in your features before he leans forward placing a lasting kiss on your puffy lips, tears rolling down even more. He slowly wipes away your tracks, tracing your eyes. He places his lips on yours again, closing his eyes, chuckling. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean any of that. I can leave if you’d like. You’re probably tired of me”

“I’m not tired. Please don’t leave”

He flinches in shock, eyes fluttering close once more when you angle your head closer, leaving your lips on his, both darlings pouring their words into that one kiss.

Felix · • . ° .

You were caught by your own reflection watching another fan cam of your boyfriend, cans of your favorite beer littering the couch. You ashamedly stare at yourself through the dark TV screen, hair a mess and cheeks flushed red from consuming a bit too much alcohol to label yourself as tipsy but a little less than blackout drunk. Waving your arms in front of you to clear the haze, your eyes are directed to the video finally playing, and your heart stomach drops achingly, and your brain swims around and around.

His kind eyes, perky smile, gorgeous freckles, calloused hands, warmth, love, and home, you missed all of him. Yet unfortunately, it was going to be a long while before you could be coddled in his arms and touch him how you want to. You finally find the courage to head to bed, stumbling while you clean up the place, knowing that you don’t want to wake up to a disaster.

Your hands wringing as they push down the recliner, you fight with yourself only to give in and go to the freezer to grab another can, taking it to bed with you, unaware that the love of your life was just a mere hour away from you.

“Slow down mate, you’ll be with her soon enough!”

The man on the phone blares but Felix pays no mind, rather speeding up his long legs and taking far strides. The airport was mild with the presence of people, most likely because it was currently exactly two hours past midnight. He meant to be home earlier, catch you earlier, and surprise you earlier while the other boys relaxed in Los Angeles for a few nights more.

But the flight was delayed, and he was seated on the plane, later than he expected, excitement thriving well and alive. With two suitcases (one of them being dedicated entirely to your gifts) rolling behind him, he scurries, attracting attention from the stray onlookers. A part of him hopes that you are still awake, and the other hopes not, then obviously your beauty sleep comes before him, not that you needed it, you were already so stunning.

The last few months were hard, and all he craves is you. He misses the way that your touch makes him feel safe, the way that your smile lights up the whole room, your drunken confessions to him, and most importantly of all he just misses you, period.

Whipped as he was, he’s been staying awake for a while, imagining what he would do when he came back to you, his darling girlfriend. He was going to shower with kisses, join you in the shower, finally get a good night’s rest with you, and then not let you out of his arm's length, to make up for lost time of course.

Without knowing it, he finds himself seated in the familiar black company car, and his heart flutters amidst its beating, a smile curling up his face when he soon realizes the landscape around him blends into a more comfortable one. The one that he knew from the back of his hand, where he could run home with his eyes closed, and oh his lungs stutter as a very homely driveway comes into view. Like a zombie that’s obsessed with you, he clasps his luggage and dazedly walks home.

Where you would be. In your pajamas. And curled up in a soft blanket. For a second, he lets his fingers run themselves over the lock of the door, incapable of thinking about anything other than you. And finally, he inserts the metal key and lets himself in, eyes immediately crinkling at such a warming feeling that blossoms in his chest.

His eyes dart over the place, picture to picture of you two, and then to the clock, where it strikes three. Your boyfriend wastes no time closing the door softly behind him so he can stalk to your shared room, where he could find you, doing exactly as he pictured– except you look where better than he could imagine.

It seems though that you’ve passed out while drinking, an unfinished bottle near the bed stand (that he takes a little more than a few sips of). Slightly bending, his eyes cross your entire face, just silently admiring you before they get glued to your ravenous lips that were swollen.

Leaning closer, he places a long and deepening kiss, falling into a space where you are occupied. The place in his brain that was filled with you. Taking your cheeks, he pulls you closer and gives into the temptation of giving you another kiss, which slowly spreads around your face, and this time you wake up, eyes blinking hazily.

“Felix?”

“I’m back home, sweetheart”

Seungmin · • . ° .

He knew that it was a bad idea to dance in the rain with you. But he seriously couldn’t say no to your enlarged eyes, and your puckered lips, when you relentlessly begged. And as much as he would hate to admit it, the scene was so intimate.

With you in his arms, cold and soaked but emitting such a large amount of warmth, he wanted you forever, to spend his every last moment. He wished to keep you in his pocket, and every time he ponders upon it, his heart clenches in adoration.

You were just so adorably cute, everything you did was heart-wrenching. But of course, the fun never really lasted for long, because the next day, you were awoken with an angry fever flushing through your body and a heavy nose.

The aching through your body had penetrated your unconscious form as your groaning awakens the man next to you, his nose scrunching when he nuzzles into your neck, only to find it steaming hot. With sweat dampening on your face, your expression pulled into one of discomfort, it doesn’t take your boyfriend long to realize that you were sick–or rather the beginning of the illness.

Gentle hands, trace down your cheeks, dragging them to your chin which he takes into the pink of his fingers, his palm trying to shake you awake. Your cheeks were flushed from the heat that you were emitting, and Seungmin hated how easily you made him feel like he was back in Middle School again, watching you from afar, unable to look away. But now he has you in his arms and he grows a little sentimental at that, at how much you two have grown together, individually and with each other.

“Hey love, you’re running a fever” He whispers into your ear, successfully waking you while you turn over to capture his warmth, shivering against him. “I should’ve listened to you, you were right” You whimper, quietly begging him to not get up so he could get a few pills that could break your fever overnight, but he just giggles and stands up anyway, returning with the said medicine and a cup of water.

“I’m always right” You nod at his words, and he ponders if you even wrapped your pretty head around what he just said to you, but you were just so out of it, that you practically fell asleep sitting up (he coos a little)! Slipping the water into your mouth, he scolds you for acting like a baby, but he’s the one who slowly tucks you into bed again, letting you wrap yourself around him for your own comfort.

The night falls silent again and he’s left alone with his own thoughts again which are now occupied with various questions about you and that nasty sickness. Should he take a few days off to treat you? Yes, of course! Will it be spicy chicken soup for dinner tomorrow? Only if you want it.

Should he kiss you right now and potentially get sick with, you just because you just look so cute and he has to hold himself back, so he doesn’t take a fat bite out of your cheeks? The only acceptable answer would be, absolutely!

After all, it wouldn’t matter now, you were already all over him. Brushing his hands over your hair, he pulls him closer to your lips and places a sweetly dizzying kiss on your lips, taking all of you in, not letting you stir awake.

You were just so perfect even in your physically worst state. He places another and then another smooch over your supple mouth, nipping at your cheeks once in a while, slowly lulling him to sleep.

The next morning, his nose was stuffed, and his throat felt dry, but with you being the first person he sees when he opens his eyes–he might as feel cured.

Jeongin · • . ° .

He thinks that you’re the most gorgeous person he’s ever laid sights on. Even in your sweats and a worn-out t-shirt that he’s sure is his (it looks better on you anyway), you’re still shining like a star.

Yet you’re drunk right now, so you are personally not very sure about his claims, but he purely disagrees with you as he’s by your side, trying to stabilize you. A night out with your friends was the cause of your current situation, all wobbly and seeing dashing quarks that were filled with a multitude of bright colors.

Or maybe you were just seeing the pure, raw affection of love that you two shared. Being with Jeongin has always been colorful, bright, and wonderful. Every day with him felt like a dream that every so often, you would have to pinch yourself to make sure that you weren’t actually confined in the depths of your delusions. But as of now, you’re trapped under the heavy influence of alcohol that’s making you run into stop signs, wave hello’s to pass trees, and ask Jeongin if the moon was just a ball of cheese, all while he just giggled at you, his heart about to burst.

Teeth unable to stop clicking, you just ramble and ramble on with a nonsensical whim. Jeongin watches you endearingly, his palm ghosting over your waist, eyes looking at you with so much passion. An elderly couple strays not too far away from you two, both smiling at the heartfelt moment. With flickering lights above and the moon’s forgiving light beaming down as a spotlight, they stare at the worship that Jeongin held for you.

The love that he radiated towards you, his one and only sweetheart, could be felt streets down, as cats meow at the warmth and birds suddenly chirp at the two heartthrobs. And even through all that commotion on a silent street, all he could pay attention to was you. His stomach churns so clumsily and his heartbeat quickens when he thinks about how much you trust him to be by your side. How much you place yourself in the care of him as you physically lose yourself.

“Innie, I’m so tired!” You stomp like a grumpy child, leaning your head against his shoulder, slowly swaying to whatever hum you were breathing out. He wasn’t a man of words, preferring to speak using his actions so he does what he thinks is best without moving his mouth; he picks you up bridal style.

Gasping into his fit chest, it doesn’t take long for you to slowly daze to sleep, eyes fluttering close to the rhythm of his heartbeat. With you now in his arms, it doesn’t take long for him to maneuver both you and him home, accompanied by a few kisses to your face. Walking up the long winding steps and into your shared bedroom, he plops you down before he flops on, snuggling into your body as tightly as he can.

His mouth gaped open in relaxation, your fingers in his hair and softly scratching at his scalp (you must’ve woken up a bit earlier) but your eyes were still closed, enjoying the fullness of this moment. Slowly and steadily, you fall back into a rhythm of peace, while Jeongin finally lets himself take you in whole, sharp eyes following each dip in your face.

He sprinkles tiny kisses on your jaw and pulls himself up to your nose which he bites jokingly. And then he finally indulges in your lips, flushed and full when he leans down and captures you into one of his favorite pastimes; kissing you. But this time it’s more gentle and mushy, careful enough to not wake you up.

“My baby” He whines, smiling against you.

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lymtw · 6 months

Text

Cerise

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x f!reader

Content: SFW

Content Warnings: Not many it’s pretty SFW, just some kisses really

Description: Cerise is a sacred word for you and Gojo. It means peace or truce. It cancels any grudge out and it forces you to talk. Gojo is the king of using Cerise ;)

Word Count: 0.7k

Gojo can’t stand when you give him the silent treatment, because when you do, everything about you goes silent. You silence his notifications so when he texts you, you don’t know it until you manually look at your messages. Even then, you look at the message and don’t respond. It’s usually something along the lines of:

Hiii baby ❤️

You still mad 🥹

To which you don’t respond because he’s only on the couch across the room. You can feel his eyes watching you, but you refuse to look up at him. So you turn your screen off and continue what you were doing previously.

Gojo knows how to get you to talk. It’s very simple, but he wants to see if you’ll ever reach out first during these bouts of annoyance.

When he notices that you’re not doing much, he decides that it’s time to turn on the charm.

You’re finishing washing some dishes, when he comes up behind you. He doesn’t get close enough to touch you, but enough so that you can hear him even if he’s whispering.

“Cerise.” The word comes out smoothly, and his lips curl into a sly smile as soon as he hears you sigh.

“God, what, Satoru?” You throw the dishrag you had in your hands, and turn to look at him. You had to bite the inside of your cheek just so that you wouldn’t mirror the smile on his face once you saw him.

“You can’t break a promise we’ve followed through with for years. Sorry, but I didn’t make the rules. You know what I did do, though? I said cerise, so now you have to talk to me.”

He was unbearable, yet so damn lovable with his prideful smile.

Cerise, or the French word for cherry, was a word you and Gojo decided was made for truces. When you were just dating, he invited you over to spend the night in his apartment one day. He told you to make yourself at home, and allowed you to rummage through his cabinets and rooms.

He forgot something in his car so he went to go get it, leaving you alone for a maximum of four minutes. In those four minutes, you found a bag of cherries that was almost empty. All but three cherries remained, so you thought finishing them and tossing the bag would help him make room for more groceries. Gojo came back and caught you red handed, his jaw dropping.

“You know the French word for cherry is cerise?” You read the translations in Spanish and French, not noticing that Gojo was having a meltdown and was on his knees. You tossed the bag after popping the last one in your mouth, the stem thrown in the trash after.

“‘toru?” You call, seeing him on the floor. You squat down to his level, still making your way around the pit of the cherry, the sweetness staining your tongue.

“I wanted those cherries. Those were mine,” he mumbles, weakly.

“Please, don’t cry.” You pat his fluffy hair.

He sits up and looks at you in confusion. “I’m not crying.”

“Oh, good. So, the French word for cherry is cerise.” You put an emphasis on the word to make it sound even more regal.

He was so bummed, and spent a good ten minutes not talking to you, huffing and whipping his head in the opposite direction of you whenever you looked at him, like a child.

You couldn’t stand another minute of him ignoring you, so you scrambled into his lap, and tried to catch his attention.

“Baby, baby, baby~” you poked his cheeks, repeatedly. “‘toru, my pretty boy, i’m sorry.” You almost got him to smile with that. You covered him in kisses, his neck, his cheeks, but when you went for his lips, he sucked them in and made them disappear.

When all failed, you went for the last resort.

“Cerise,” you said, sounding wise. “Cerise,” you repeated, adding a dramatic hand in mid-air. “Did you know cerise is the French word for cherry? Also, did you know cerise is cerise?”

Gojo cracked, his shoulders shaking as he chuckled at your ridiculous rambling about this word you found on a bag of cherries. It was so easy for him to forgive you after that. You got him to laugh, and you promised that the next time you spent the night, you would bring him another bag of cherries.

“Cerise is…?” He says, waiting for you to finish his sentence.

“…the French word for cherry.” You crack a grin, walking towards him. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t. Cerise is our live, laugh, love.”

You chuckled as you buried your face in his chest.

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keyotos · 10 months

Text

book lover

summary ⎯ you rant about your book to alhaitham. he takes the time to admire you during your tangents.

tags ⎯ fluff. idk its just really cute. soft alhaitham idk what to tell you. you and alhaitham are two little book nerds that read physical books together and rant abt them. u2 are giving old happily married couple tbh.

tana's words ⎯ idk mane im in love. but BLADE trailer came out today so idk..... feeling a little bit i'm abt to commit an infidelity

you looked very conflicted as your eyes scanned the words of the book you were currently reading. to any other person, you looked rather focused. your face was pensive and your eyes were fixated on the novel you were reading.

but to alhaitham (who thinks and hopes he's the one that knows you the most), he realizes you're disconcerted by the novel you're reading. it's the way you're slightly pouting (almost frowning) your lips as you continue reading, like you're dissatisfied. your eyes aren't focused, but instead they were crinkled with confusion. what you're actually focused on is how much more ludicrous this book could get.

alhaitham picks his book back up again and continues his book, "murder on the orient express," by margaret atwood. something you recommended to him. alhaitham started it right after he finished the book he was reading previously, forgetting about the other books on his shelf.

alhaitham was nearly halfway into the novel when he turned his head to check on you again. this time, there was no doubt you looked pained. your eyes were narrowed with incredulity as you read the rest of the passage. you were biting your lip and your grip on the book was tight. you wanted to say something, alhaitham figured out.

so alhaitham puts down his book on the nightstand and stretches. he wraps his hands around your waist and moves closer to you, his head now resting on your shoulder. he reads a few passages here and there. and the way you slow down as you read does not elude him: he knows you're just waiting for him to finish his passage.

you two stay like this for a while. alhaitham's hands are wrapped around your body as his head lays comfortably on your shoulder. he presses a few kisses to your neck here and there, never failing to make you heat up. he's pulled you closer into him by now; you're on the verge of sitting on his lap in the bed. but even during this relaxing moment, you couldn't help but feel stress. it's probably because of this god-awful book you're reading.

you let out a loud sigh, slamming your book shut and not even bothering to bookmark it (you're a dog-earer; alhaitham thinks you're despicable for it). you lay it down on your nightstand before you take the time to melt into alhaitham's touch. once you've put your book down, you take a deep breath, and alhaitham swears he feels life return back into you.

alhaitham presses a quick kiss to your jaw, "are you okay?"

you faintly smile at him, "fine." and alhaitham knows what will come next. alhaitham studies you; he tries to dissect your every word and expression; and most of all, he always wants to find out more about you, despite having being with you for a long time already.

your smile disperses, now followed by a scowl, "i lied. i'm not fine," you rubbed your eyes with your hands as alhaitham listened to you, "can your brain hurt after reading something so terrible? my brain feels like it aged fifty years and i'm not even finished with this god-awful book. nothing in here makes sense, the plot is rudimentary at most, and the characters are making me want to rip my hair out," you ranted, your hands going to massage your temples because of how angry you were getting.

"and it's not just that too," you continued. alhaitham's eyes were on you; listening to every word, watching your eyes, and your lips. he wanted to kiss you into peace, but he also loved hearing your tirades. the way your voice became so passionate and wild made him feel things that he thought he wouldn't have felt before.

"the plot barely makes any sense. like, you're telling me grown people act like this? these people are two decades older than us, haitham," he feels himself melt at the sound of his name, nodding along to your tangent so you know he's listening, "but they act like teenagers! like... don't you have jobs? lives?" you pick up the covers that enshroud your body and proceed to let out the loudest groan into them.

you pulled down the covers, letting out a deep sigh. "sorry, i had to get that out," you turned to look at alhaitham, only to see him staring right back at you.

"i guess you're not recommending that one," alhaitham joked, removing his hands from your waist and wrapping his arms around your shoulders, pressing you against him. he presses a kiss to your temple as he feels you breath slowly.

"definitely not," you shook your head, now leaning onto alhaitham's shoulder, "the thing was, my friend recommended that to me. so, i don't know if they hate me or not, because there's no way they'd genuinely think this book was good."

alhaitham hummed, "maybe they were trying to gauge your reaction," alhaitham's hand slipped under your shirt and started tracing shapes on your bare collarbone, "like you did to me that one time," alhaitham adds, tone lifting with mock-exasperation.

you laugh, and alhaitham thinks the sound is absolutely heavenly. sometimes, especially during long nights in the akademiya, he dreams of your laughter and your smile. the sound is so melodic that any other laugh became incomparable and unrivaled by yours.

"okay, that was pretty funny though," you poked his cheek, grinning, "i almost spit out my drink when you got to that one sex scene. i thought you'd never take any recommendations from me ever again," you joyfully reminisced, letting yourself sink into alhaitham's warmth.

"'how fast you go. you arrive at a conclusion much sooner than i would permit myself to do,'” alhaitham quotes. his hands travel farther down your shirt as he allows himself to kiss your neck.

you ignore his actions, turning to him suddenly, "you're reading murder on orient express?" your eyes widen.

alhaitham's expression remains neutral, still kissing your body, "of course. i read everything you recommend me." he didn't expect you to be so shocked. he regards your opinion with high value.

your eyes still remain wide, not moving away from his face as alhaitham mindlessly rubs his hands up and down your torso, "even the bad ones?"

alhaitham chuckles, "even the bad ones. but, if it makes you feel better, you haven't recommended me any terrible books yet. at least, not as terrible as the one you're reading currently."

you sigh, looking at the disgraced book on the nightstand, "yeah... i don't think books can get worse than that one," you turn back to run your hand through alhaitham's hair, sorting out a few strands here and there. alhaitham quietly hums as you do so, sounding pleasantly satisfied.

"why are you reading murder on the orient express so soon? thought you had that other book to read about," you quietly asked.

"because i love you. and i want to experience what you experienced," alhaitham says it like it's the easiest thing in the world. i love you. i want to experience things with you. it makes your heart flutter infinitely through the stars. you've read countless romance novels through your years, yet no author would be able to word love as well as alhaitham did.

you smile wide, and alhaitham thinks if he was a dying man, seeing your smile would allow him to survive for decades. too flustered to say anything, you tuck yourself into the nape of his neck, hiding from his prying eyes.

you know alhaitham. you are aware that he knows you just as well as you know him. you know that, with one glance, alhaitham is probably able to determine every single thought you're thinking. with one word from your mouth, alhaitham understands you immediately, no need to elaborate. it's long lasting, the mutual understanding the both of you have.

yeah, alhaitham can read you like a book. he takes great satisfaction in doing so, as well.

you grab his chin and tilt his head down to meet yours, giving him a chaste kiss on his lips. you grin once again (a sight alhaitham will never get sick of) and turn off the lamp next to your bed. you whisper, "good night," in his ear and cover yourself with the sheets as you drift off into sleep, content with this night despite the horrible book.

alhaitham softly smiles, even chuckles a little bit about how fast you went to bed. he traces your jawline with his thumb before turning off his light and pulling you closer into him.

alhaitham usually does not reread books. but, if you were a book, he'd think he would reread you over and over again, because every time he finds something new to love about you, there is always more. you reel him in more than any hook. you interest him more than any other topic. you grab his attention more than any other story.

maybe he's over exaggerating. but that's no big deal for now. for now, alhaitham will just enjoy you and your presence. and he will reread you the next time he has a chance.

umm idk if that ending made sense but it's like 4am rn and idrc. alhaitham is prob ooc in this but whateva bc i like my men to be nice bc I CAN CHANGE THEM!! anyway srry if this don't make sense its 4am rn

#tana writes (∗´ ᨔ `∗)#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x you #alhaitham #al haitham x reader #al haitham x you #alhaitham x yn #idk yall i like books and i like him #this is the third post i've made abt him holy fuck #im insane abt him sry

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queentala · 8 months

Text

Fenrys bedroom headcanons

Fenrys Moonbeam x reader

Oh gods I finally wrote something!!!! 🥳 Ugh, it feels so good. You can see the variety of my emotions while writing those headcanons, going from poetic, through obsessed, to being absolutely done, and then to feeling cute. And also great shout out to @juulle987 that gave me some ideas, kept me motivated and entertained today. This post is dedicated to you, baby ❤️ Anyway, I hope you enjoy this 🥰

Words: slightly over 3k

Warnings: no spoilers wanted so just be aware of a lot of nsfw content

Even though the smart mouth, charming smile, effortless way of being, or simply the pretty face, might cause various spicy inklings and rumors about the White Wolf's abilities in bedroom, (which, pretty much always are at least partially accurate), there is a lot more than just youngish yearning and playfulness underneath his skin. After all, many might know that the beautiful warrior had his persistent spot in Queen Maeve's bed, only few, however, that he did not cherish this "privilege", as she called it.

There is just… so much darkness in Fenrys' soul, that it is impossible to save any aspect of his life from the pain it brings, especially when the said aspect is directly connected to the source of his trauma.

So no, Fenrys is not the always horny and kinky sex god we make him out to be.

Okay he is.

But at least not at the beginning, or even the halfway of the long journey of trying to overcome the demons that haunt him.

It's going to take a while for him to open up. To trust you.

Now, most of sa victims are not fond of touch, which is understandable as it triggers the bad memories. But I do think Fenrys would very much need and crave physical contact with his mate/beloved. Especially the soft and comforting type, the one that resumes him that he is loved and sets his skin on fire at the same time.

It's just that with Maeve he didn't get to experience the featherlike softness which every lover's fingers should have, nor the addicting feeling of trying to grasp as much of each other as possible. And when he finally does, it's like a painkiller for his soul.

Believe me when I say that Fenrys cannot get enough of your hands in his hair, chests pressed against each other, legs tangled under the sheets… It's not the verbal yes that he gives you when you take off his shirt, but the way he's pressing his cheek into your palm as you caress his face that keeps you going. He's not good with words. How could he when there's a lump in his throat as emotion overtake his ability to make a sound? So instead he lets his body speak.

At first the sex is soft and intense, full of small gasps, long kisses and sweet words whispered against each other's skin. It's more about just being close to each other than the actual pleasure; the beautiful feeling of getting lost in each other, feeling of security sugared with the bliss caused and boosted by every stroke against the most intimate parts belonging only to the two of you.

Holding hands also appears to be an important deal for Fenrys; a physical visualization of the trust and safety he feels while in your presence. It definitely adds intimacy, which he very much craves, to the moment and overall is a really sweet gesture that just naturally feels right.

He always finds a way to connect your palms, no matter the position he has you in, and not even once it failed to work as the motion always turns out sweet, sexy or goofy and either way it's just amazing.

And even decades into your relationship, when his trauma is just a blurry memory appearing in his nightmares from time to time, holding hands is as important as it was at the beginning of your shared journey.

Another form of intimacy that Fenrys adores, is morning, cuddly sex. Or in general just cuddly, sleepy sex as we know this guy likes to take a nap during the day.

It's slow and sloppy, with eyes still closed and face buried in each other's chest or neck, warm covers enveloping and keeping you safe in the small bubble of just you two, free from all the worries of the day.

It is such a wholesome moment that lets you be close even in the most vulnerable state, plus the atmosphere is so sweet and cozy… Oh and I just know that Fenrys gets all sensitive then, too lost in the feeling to even care and keep the veneer of having some control over his body.

He. Is. Such. A. Moaner.

Fenrys is vocal, never even trying to muffle the sounds YOU'RE pulling out of him. It feels so divine, so why would he keep it to himself?

At first it's low grunts and hisses, slipping out of his mouth mindlessly as you clutch him so tightly and good, slowly turning into moans, each louder than the previous one, more desperate, as he's nearing his release. The sweet noises falling right into your ear, broken from time to time by a curse when the pleasure gets overwhelming.

Now keep in mind that all this happens when he's the one on top, so when he's trying to keep himself together.

I don't think Fenrys would be into the dom/sub dynamics due to his trauma; neither being at someone's mercy nor having someone absolutely helpless underneath really appeals to him. However, the top/bottom thing absolutely does appear in your bedroom.

Being under Maeve's command for a century, it's rather reasonable that Fenrys would like to be a top and have control over the situation. (I even had a discussion with someone about this on my blog if you'd like to read more into it.) So while neither of you have more or less power over the other during sex, most of the time it's Fenrys that initiate, choose and control things.

However, I'm a firm believer that Fenrys is a switch.

So with the right person and after the right amount of time, he would give up the control without any worries. And that's when you meet his absolutely new side.

Like I already hinted, Fenrys gets sensitive and it doesn't take much for him to fall apart. Whether you're riding him, or working your hand or mouth along his length, his moans always somehow get louder and more desperate.

And oh boy, try to edge him a little bit, and you get two outcomes.

One: you just turned on his playful mode and now he's going to pay you back with twice as much.

Two: he's falling into total submission and gets all whiny, begging you to let him cum because your hand on him feels so good and he can't take it anymore, but you keep teasing him, telling him that only good puppies get to cum and I'm jqhwjhwj 🥴😩

But anyway, back to playful Fenrys.

Of course having so many bad memories with sex, he tries his best to make it as pleasurable and comfortable experience as possible, both for you and him.

And you know Fenrys, always with mischief in his eye and snarky comments ready for any occasion… I'm afraid his attitude in the bedroom doesn't differ too much.

He is definitely the type of person to crack the most random joke in the middle of the fun, or stop and collapse into giggles at the weird sound either of you made or when the new position doesn't work quite like it should.

Do I even have to mention all the dirty jokes he'd come up with? And you know it's not only you that hears them but the whole court. I swear everybody is so effin fed up with them yet it seems like Fenrys, the unbothered king of annoying his decayed ex comrades, comes up with a new joke every time he cums.

(which is a lot cause the boy's sensitive as fuck but about that later)

He calls you his muse at this point as you're the reason behind most of them.

And if you can imagine Fenrys being playful during sex, then imagine what happens before. Because half of the time it's the tickling sessions that get you into the bedroom, starting as harmless fun and ending up with clothes scattered on the floor and sheets that definitely need to be changed after you're done.

However I would be surprised hadn't it worked the other way around as well, as if you don't see lighthearted sex with Fenrys turning into a tickling fight then you clearly don't know him.

Since we're talking about getting started… Fenrys loves you and sex with you, and ya know, you're not just some lover but his beloved, a person truly dear to him. So most of the time he'd want to do everything properly. That's why I dare say he is the king of foreplay.

Fenrys knows perfectly how to get you into the mood, whether it be more giggly or sexy. He knows all your sensitive places, knows where to kiss and where to bite, what turns you on.

Of course he enjoys quickies as well, every moment with (in) you is priceless. But why would he narrow himself to doing the bare minimum before entering you when he could have you squirting and begging for his cock?

I already said it in my previous headcanons, and Fenrys said it himself; his tongue is his best feature. So who am I to argue with him?

This man. Is so fucking amazing at oral, that there's no enough words in the world to describe it.

He just loves eating you out; love your taste, love the way you're arching and love the sound of your moans. He can spend hours, (and I really do believe I'm not overreacting), slowly drawing his tongue up and down your entrance, eyes closed in pleasure at the way your arousal feels on his lips.

He absolutely outdoes himself in those moments, making sure no inch of yours is left without his attention. Kissing the soft flesh of your thighs, palms exploring the well known shape of your hips and waist as he fucks you little cunt; switching between your hole and clit, treating one with his lips while his fingers take care of the other.

Start pulling at his hair and it only keeps him going.

Just the sight of you falling apart under his touch is enough to leave him hard and ready. (Although, am I the only one that thinks he could cum by just eating you out…? He defo could, couldn't he?)

And just as much as he loves giving, he loves receiving. I already said that Fenrys gets whiny and sensitive when you're on your knees. He'd definitely fist your hair and watch in awe with mouth slightly open how you take his length, too hipnotised by the sight to be aware of the way his body reacts or the sounds slipping from between his lips.

He can hold himself for a pretty long time, but I do believe he wouldn't have any problems with cumming within minutes, especially when you're the one working on him.

Fenrys might not be the horniest person at the beginning. Like I already said, demons of the past do take a toll on him. But as the years pass by, and with your love that makes him stronger with each day, I think I can say this guy is very much able to find any excuse to have sex.

Whether it be a few minutes break before one meeting and another, an especially colder day, or just a very beautiful night, Fenrys can and will try to get you to bed as often as possible.

Oh and I bet he wakes up with a boner almost every morning. Don't ask me why because I don't know, it's just a feeling that he does. What I know, though, is that there's no way he'd handle it himself when you're laying by his side 😏.

There are three ways to solve this and he's not going to complain either way.

Feeling comfortable, Fenrys is the first one to experiment and try new things. As long as it doesn't harm either of you, and doesn't trigger any bad memories, he's down for whatever you propose.

After all, sex is all about fun and pleasure, so why not find as many ways to do so as possible?

Actually the only things that he is strongly against would be degrading and bondage, besides that he's willing to give everything else a try.

Those that read my previous headcanons will most likely recall the fabulous white, fluffy tail plug and wolf/dog ears to match.

And as much as I consider my previous hcs a disaster, this is something I stand my ground on. What's more, I do believe Fenrys would be absolutely and thoroughly into roleplays and dressing ups. AND I DARE YOU TO TELL ME I'M WRONG. You can't.

It's sexy and goofy at the same time, and given that these two adjectives are literally Fenrys' life motto…

He'd love to have you in doggy as you wear the plug, or even more, pressed against the kitchen counter as you decided to wear it (only it) while making him breakfast. Or when you ride him wearing a sexy cowgirl outfit, bouncing on his cock with tits falling out of the tight unbuttoned shirt, tied under your breast. Would he chase you with a lasso through the house before that? You already know the answer.

And do I even have to mention Fenrys in the play boy or maid costume?

This man is such a teaser. It goes all the way from leaving small kisses and little touches all over your body for the whole day, to purposely slowing down the peace of his thrusts.

He'd also strip for you. Painfully slowly taking off each piece of clothing as you watch him with lips watering (I'm talking about both types 👀). And had you shown any type of impatience, he would turn it against you and call you desperate for him, as if he's not taking so long for this exact purpose.

But when Fenrys finally does crawl his naked frame over you, he makes sure to make all this waiting worth it. He worships you like no one else ever could, touching and kissing every inch of skin he can find, devouring the sight below him with eyes blown with desire, words of admiration slipping out of his mouth like sparks out of bonfire.

Words might not hold such powerful meaning as actions, but it doesn't make them any less important for Fenrys. Not only does he use every chance he gets to compliment you, more than once not even realizing it, smothering you with praises and pet names whether it be in lovesick awe or overwhelmed with pleasure, but craves to hear those sweet words fall from your mouth directed to him.

He seeks your attention and admiration like a puppy, melting in your palms as you pamper him with love.

My man is not big on sharing. Even though I'd love to believe that he agrees to bring another person to your bedroom from time to time, especially a man as I whole believe that he is bisexual, I think it would be rather a rarity. Well, he's not interested in other women when you're the only one he needs and wants, and also it would take a lot of time and reassurance for him to share you with another man. But once you talk it through… Dorian would be more than willing, that's for sure.

Oh, I had some trouble deciding whether he is a boobs or ass guy, and Julle solved within seconds saying that he's both. And yeah, I do see that.

Fenrys would love sleeping with his face in your breasts, or play with them as you're laying in bed with a book, not paying attention to him so he has to entertain himself. And he loves sucking at your titties, trying to get you to orgasm just by that.

But at the same time he would waste no opportunity to slap your butt as he walks past or fucking you from behind. Nor would he complain as you sit on his face with full weight.

Ah and how could I forget? What's a better way to worship your pussy than filling it with cum? Watching his cock slide out white from how full of him you are, seeing his seed leak out and drip down your thighs?

You know he's trying to put as many puppies in you as he can.

And as a cherry on top I can offer you naked domestic Fenrys. It is a good thing that he's comfortable, of course it is, however, once he does, he doesn't differ much from a toddler. Run after him with pants all you want, he's not going to put them on, parading through the whole house in all the glory.

But honestly? Is it so bad? I mean, people pay big money for less effective views, so I wouldn't complain and feast my eyes all I can.

In this long as toilet paper essay, we came to the conclusion that sex with Fenrys can be sexy, funny, intense, loving and hundreds of other kinds. But what is one thing that they all have in common? ✨ Aftercare ✨ (you can see I'm losing my shit here? Sorry, I'm just tired, maybe I'll rewrite this part tomorrow)

After the fun is over, no matter how long or hard it was, Fenrys will always make sure you're okay before doing anything else. It is his priority to help you come down after your high, asking if you need anything whether it be water, a helpful hand in getting cleaned, a bath or simply snuggles.

And though he'd never expect from you anything you cannot give, it makes his heart flutter when you do the same thing for him. So maybe ask if he's okay, or play with his hair as he's falling asleep, whispering praises against his forehead, and it would definitely make him happier.

Fenrys is an amazing lover, thoughtful and passionate, open minded and big on boundaries. He can offer you the whole world and crawl out of his skin to bring you pleasure, and still stop without a second thought when you say no. And he does expect the same thing from you.

Because at the end of the day, consent is the sexiest thing you can give him.

#fenrys moonbeam x reader #fenrys x reader #fenrys moonbeam #fenrys #throne of glass #tog headcanons #tog imagines #tog smut #tog #throne of glass imagines

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moonyswritinq · 21 days

Note

howdy! i recently stumbled upon your account and saw that your requests were open. i have a small request for a newt x m!reader one-shot. feel free to ignore this if you don't feel like you're up for it 👍

maybe one where the reader has longer hair, and is a runner, as the weather's gotten warmer it's starting to become more of a chore when it comes to maintaining it so he asks newt to help him cut it? it can be as silly or goofy as you want, platonic or romantic is up to you.

i hope you're having a great day and enjoying the fall weather

-🦇

if the haircut fits — newt x male reader

❝ IF THE HAIRCUT FITS ❞

Thank you so much for the request, Bat. So sorry it took so long to finish, and I kind of ran away with this one, but I hope you enjoy!

SYNOPSIS ➢ As summer started to creep into the Glade, the sun’s rays had been hitting you much harder than usual; your hair, especially, have been more of a nuisance. Your solution? Get one of your closest friends to cut it for you. But losing the weight of your hair made you want to get rid of some weight off your chest, as well.

PAIRING ➢ newt x male reader

CONTENT WARNING ➢ friends to lovers, kissing, touching, banter, light insults sexual innuendoes, fluff, slight hurt/comfort, mentions of eating, mentions of drinking, slight violence (a slap), mentions of body, no use of y/n

WORD COUNT ➢ 7.3 k

AUTHORS NOTE ➢ I like to keep any image of the reader’s body out of my writing, but in this he’s implied to be well built, but not explicitly mentioned. The hair may also be more of a non-black standard, since I’m not sure exactly how black hair behaves in this situation, but I tried to keep it as vague as possible. I’m sure there are also a lot of inaccuracies in this concerning the Glade, such as the weather and the sun and the lake, but for the sake of this fic it works like I say it does — I am the author and therefore, God.

The air had gotten warmer recently. You’d noticed it only a few days ago, when your breath hadn’t exhaled in a cloud of white smoke and your neck had started to sweat after a full day of running in the Maze. The weather didn’t exactly respond to how the seasons—that on some level your subconscious knew existed—worked, but it changed all the same. It had only gotten warmer, and quickly, too. With the sun bearing down on from overhead, the air was chokingly warm, your skin practically dripping with sweat and the ends of your hair clinging to your neck. It had grown long during the past few months and while it was a comfort in the colder weather, strands of it now hung uncomfortably in your eyes despite your best attempts to pull it back into a knot.

Minho walked just in front of you through the gates of the Maze and entered the green forestry of the Glade. The walls closed right behind you and in spite of the late hour of the day the sun still shone bright in the sky. He was just as eager to take cover from it under the cool shade of the Glade’s woods as to throw himself into the equally cool lake. You ran up beside him, patting him on the shoulder.

“This weather,” he grunted, wiping the palms of his hands on his trousers. They left tracks of sweat. “I swear it’s got something against us.”

“Yeah,” you agreed with a sigh. You peeled your drenched shirt from your skin, pulling it over your head in an attempt to ease some of the warmth. It didn’t made much of a difference.

Minho threw you a sideway glance as you walked across the green fields. “Eager to show your body off?”

You threw your head back in a bark, sidestepping so you would walk backwards to face him. Your hands spread as your head tilted with conviction.

“You’d want to show off your body too if it looked like this,” you said. Minho couldn’t help but smile at your comment, shaking his head in exasperation. You turned around to walk beside him normally again.

As the two of you made your way to the lake, you passed the gardens and its track-hoes, Newt being one among them. Despite the fact that he was second in command, he liked the calming repetitiveness of caring for vegetables and flowers. He’d told you one late night when you’d found him sitting by himself, staring up at the night sky, and your curiosity had gotten the better of you. Now, his eyes met yours in an instant, as if he’d known exactly where you were. As if he’d been watching you for some while, and waiting for you to notice. Your stomach flipped at his unashamed staring, nervous under the gaze, as your mind drew a blank. Quickly, you rearranged your mouth into a smirk, to which he shook his head out of his stunned stupor and continued with his task, but you could tell his mind wasn’t present as his eyes kept jumping back and forth.

Minho saw your smug smile and hit you across the chest, hard enough to cause you to stumble. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Newt cover his mouth from something that looked like a chuckle and you glared back at Minho’s now-smug smile. He just tilted his head and kept walking to the cover of the trees.

“You can flirt with Newt later,” he said. “Let’s go wash off.”

“I wasn’t flirting with anyone! Let alone Newt.”

“Whatever, man.”

You grumbled something unintelligible, which he ignored, as you walked together to the lake on the other side of the Glade. It was a rather long walk, but the time in the trees’ shade cooled you down nicely. Reaching the lake, the water was darkening with the passing of the sun, seeming almost more ominous now than inviting. You found a few other Gladers there already, some of them laying by the bank with their shirts discarded and the rest of them submerged in the water. Minho wasted no time removing his shirt and running into the dark water. You discarded your earlier thoughts and quickly followed suit, pulling your hair from its knot and jumping into the lake with a splash that earned you an ugly glare from a Glader nearby. Minho shared the glare and slapped the water hard, sending it flying in your direction.

“Shankhead,” he muttered.

You only laughed and leant backwards, fully submerging your body under the dark water. Your muscles relaxed and let the water carry you out further in the lake, effectively cooling you down. This was exactly what you needed after a warm and exhausting day; your head under the water, your hair spread around you like the halo of some angel—if an angel could be trapped in a maze. The cold water felt like a blanket across your mind, quieting your thoughts down to a tenth of their usual volume. There were few things that could calm you like this.

The peace didn’t last long, though, as Minho’s hand suddenly closed over your arm and dragged you above surface.

“What?” you spit at him.

He cocked his head to the end of the lake and when you turned your head you saw Newt’s figure walking closer, his hands in the pockets of his trousers. You immediately tried to stand up, but forgot you were too far out, and instead of touching the sand you sunk deeper in the water with a splutter. Again, you broke the surface with a gasp and a flail of your arms, struggling to wipe your hair out of your eyes. Minho was unsurprisingly unhelpful, barking out his laugh at your unfortunate. You glared at him and swam to the bank where Newt stood waiting. It was only then that you noticed a lot of the other boys were gone or also on their way from the lake.

“Smooth,” Newt commented when you reached him.

“Shut up.”

He nodded his head to the woods behind him. “Dinnertime’s soon. Reckoned I’d go get you.”

“I am honoured your lordship would bother thinking of little ol’ me,” you smiled. He only rolled his eyes.

Your steps brought you up further, the water splashing around your knees. Newt’s arms were crossed over his chest as he leant on one foot, waiting for you to reach him. You noticed that he adamantly kept his eyes fixated on a spot just above your head, refusing to glance at any part of your body that was currently on display. A part of you sparked with amusement. Minho stepped out just behind you and went over to retrieve your clothes, throwing your shirt and boots at you.

“Thanks,” you bit at him, just barely avoiding one hitting your head.

He flashed you with a smug smirk as he pulled his shirt over his head, immediately causing wet spots to bloom wherever it touched his skin directly. “My pleasure,” he said and started walking back to the huts, through the now-dark forest.

The sun had settled quickly and long shadows now stretched before you as you turned to walk into the forest. Newt followed suit, staring at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Not going to put on your shirt?” he asked.

You turned your head to catch Newt’s gaze sweeping across your figure. It filled you with a strange satisfaction to see him checking you out. When he noticed that you’d caught him, he immediately looked away, his posture suddenly stiff. His cheeks were definitely redder than they had been before, although it was difficult to tell in the darkening light. Your lips tugged into something resembling a smile.

“Why? Does it bother you?”

Newt scoffed and met your gaze defiantly underneath his golden fringe. “No. I just don’t want your stupid arse to get sick.”

Your smile widened. “Oh, really? Do you happen to care for me, Newt?”

“I am not admitting that,” he said and rolled his eyes. His tone was suspiciously even, as if it took everything in him not to check you out again. “I’m only saying it’d be be more trouble than you’re worth to get you healthy again.”

His brown eyes met yours, obstructed with a few strands. You had the urge to reach out and pull them away, to see his eyes more clearly, but instead you sent him a simple smile and nudged him lightly with your elbow. “Okay, you have your priorities clear,” you said.

“Just go get ready, won’t you?” His glare was enough to send shivers down your spine and his hands started to turn your body in the direction of the huts, now already having reached the end of the woods. “See what I told you? You’re already getting cold!”

“Fine,” you drawled with your hands up in defence, looking at him over your shoulder. “I’ll see you at the bonfire.”

He lifted his hand in half a wave and swiftly turned away from you, walking to where the others had begun to gather by the fire. Sometimes you forgot he had hurt his leg—it had happened before you arrived in the Glade—but looking at him now his limp was evident in his step. You lingered a moment longer to watch his hair glow in the contrast from the fire, vaguely resembling the sun in an eclipse. You found the view almost poetic, entrancing you in its picturesque aestheticism. It reminded you of Icarus flying too close to the sun, you standing by, helpless to aid him in his downfall, inevitably and irrevocably fated to meet his doom. You weren’t sure where the thought or the name had come from, but ancient knowledge seemed to lord over you in a cloud of mystery.

“Go!” called Newt suddenly over his shoulder. He met your eye with a quirk of his brow and for a second his eyes seemed to draw you into the depths of his soul, but then you blinked and the feeling was gone.

“Going!” you jumped out of your daze to call back and quickly turned to make your way to the huts. How he had known you’d stayed put you didn’t know, but didn’t question further. You rushed to your cot to grab a change of clean clothes and a towel to dry off with, even though most of the water had already dried and cooled your skin with the night’s chill. Still, your hair hung heavy with water, wetting the new shirt you put on. You groaned as you tried to wipe it with the towel, but to no avail. The only downsides to having long hair was it took forever to dry. It would have to warm by the fire.

You changed into the warm pair of trousers and put on your boots. Still, your damp hair felt cold against your skin, which would have been nice if the temperature didn’t drop so suddenly as soon as the sun was gone. You hurried to the fire, the air enveloping you into its warm grasp, eyes already searching for the familiar blonde boy. A lot of the Gladers were milling about, eating the good food Frypan had cooked up or drinking some of the incredibly strong spirit you knew Newt fancied. Someone was laughing loudly nearby but you ignored it in favour of searching for the quiet spot you knew you would find him by. When your eyes settled on him, sitting on a log with a drink in his hand and a plate on his knee, your hand reflexively made its way to pull back your bangs from your eyes. Warmth settled in your stomach that was equally familiar.

“Don’t worry, you look good,” came Minho’s voice beside you. You shot him a glare and removed your fingers from your hair, still itching to pull it away. “Not that your ego needs the boost.”

“Not what I was concerned with,” you said. You swallowed. “But thanks.”

Minho grinned. Your lips lifted into an answering grin and Minho nudged you towards the fire. “Go get ‘em.”

You frowned at him, pretending not to understand what he meant, before shaking your head and walking towards where Newt was sitting. His gaze lifted as you approached and you felt your stomach flipping, not uncomfortably.

“So, he can wear a shirt? Was starting to believe you weren’t capable of it,” said Newt, lowering his drink from his lips.

“Yeah,” you answered with a sheepish grin.

You sat down next to him on the log and reached over to nick a few pieces of his fruit. Newt immediately leant away, lifting the plate away from your reach.

“Woah--oi, hey! Don’t take my food! Get your bloody own from Frypan,” he grumbled, settling you with a glare. You recognised the glint in his eye though, the one that told you he wasn’t entirely serious. His eyes shone in the firelight, softening the longer you stayed quiet, and his lips even started to turn up. At the sight of it, yours did as well. He always knew how to bring out your mischievous side.

“Your food tastes much better.”

“It’s exactly the same.”

You shook your head. “No, by its mere proximity to you, the food is better.”

Newt rolled his eyes and placed his plate back on his knee, where your hand quickly snatched away the remainder of his fruit. He only sighed and took a long sip from his drink, pretending to ignore your staring at him. Finally, he lowered his glass and met your gaze with a sigh.

“What?” asked Newt, tone as flat as he could manage to make it in your presence.

Your lips tugged into a smile. “Nothing,” you said and glanced away.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Newt swiftly turn to you before you felt a nudge against your side, almost pushing you off balance. You cried out and reached towards him to stabilise yourself, sending him the harshest glare you could muster in spite of the laughter that was waiting in your throat. He met it with a glare of his own while ignoring your hands on his arm and shoulder, which suddenly felt too hot to the touch. Blood rushed to your cheeks.

“Nothing,” you repeated, avoiding his gaze. You were forced to let go of him with a clearing of your throat, conscious of your cold hands. You became too aware of your hair brushing your cheek, annoyingly tickling your skin. Before you could move, Newt’s hand had reached out to brush it away. Your breath hitched in your throat and you were unable to rip your eyes away from his.

“Sorry,” he said bashfully and withdrew it, curling it into an uncertain fist.

You smiled. “No, no, it’s okay. It’s getting too long,” you mumbled, your hands moving as if with a mind of their own to fiddle with the longer strands of your hair.

“I could help you, you know?” spoke Newt, drawing your gaze to him. He seemed not to have noticed your flustered state or he chose to ignore it. You hoped it was the former.

You frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

His voice broke as he opened his mouth to speak, but he cleared his throat and nodded to your head.“I could help cut your hair.”

“Really?” you asked, surprise evident in your voice. You supposed cutting weeds while gardening got him familiar around shears.

“I mean, yeah, sure,” said Newt. “Reckon I’d do a better job than anything you’d manage, anyway.”

Your head whipped to the side, mouth open in indignation. “That’s foul!”

His lips tugged into a grin and he lifted an eyebrow with the argument. “Am I wrong?” Your eyes swept over his own hair, which you assumed he’d cut himself, and pursed your lips in contemplation. It looked good. He looked good. Especially in that light, when the fire casted a golden aura that settled around his head like a halo. It effortlessly managed to draw your attention to every shift in his movement.

“No,” you finally grumbled, again tugging at a strand.

His hand reached out to tuck the stray strand of your hair away, and in doing so pushed away your own. The short moment of contact made your breath stutter and come out in a short burst. Newt met your gaze with a smile. It felt different than before, none of his usual amusement visible in his gaze. Instead, there now hung a heavy silence over the both of you, despite the loud chatter and laughter of those who had gathered by the fire. You were so close to him that you could count the lashes on his eyes. His gaze, which usually swirled with the pain and frustration that served as a reminder that Newt was capable of more than he let on, was now void of that. There was only curiosity and something softer that you couldn’t describe to be found. Newt must have felt your breath on his hand by now were it not for you holding it in anticipation. As if suddenly realising it, he blinked and leant away from you, his hand falling down at your side. Your breathing returned to normal as you tried to keep the warmth rushing to your cheeks at bay, trying in vain to ignore how close you two had just been. It was too dark for you to see if he was feeling the same way, or he was just too good at hiding it, but it didn’t keep you from scrutinising his face for any clues.

“Take a sick day tomorrow, meet me by the gardens,” he said after a few minutes of silently staring into the fire. His voice was level, as if he hadn’t been caressing your cheek only moments before.

You tried to match his nonchalance and arched an eyebrow. “Minho will murder me.”

Newt cocked his head. “Let that be on my head.”

“Fine,” you said and stood up with a groan, feeling the stretch of your muscles from the day’s run. Newt followed your movement, meeting your eye as you pointed an accusing finger at him. “On your head, be it.”

Newt nodded, sending a smirk your way. You stepped away from him and made your way to Frypan. As you grabbed a few sandwiches, Gally sneaked up by your side, swiping one of the sandwiches in your hand.

“Got tired of flirting, huh?” he chuckled.

You glared at him and bit into your sandwich. “Shut up.”

He smirked smugly. “It’s plain as day, Greeny.”

“You’re worse than Minho,” you grumbled. Your finger lifted to point in his direction. “And stop calling me that, I haven’t been Greeny for a year.”

His mocking laughter followed you as you walked away from the fire towards the huts, shaking your head. A few Gladers had followed your trail of thought, also deigning to go to bed early. You fell into your sleeping cot with your feet kicked up and a deep sigh escaping your lips. Your mind couldn’t keep from trailing back to the sight of Newt by the fire, his brown eyes shining along with his smug smirk. A groan fought through your throat as you rubbed your eyes in frustration.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like Newt. On the contrary, you liked him a lot. He was kind and funny and witty and smart and always knew how to both make you laugh and trample on your nerves to get you furious with him. But you didn’t fancy him, no matter how much Minho and Gally liked to imply it. He just had a special way to worm his way into your thoughts and then burrow there. For days after an interaction, you would think of how he looked at you a certain way or how he would accidentally touch you while brushing past.

It drove you insane, how easily Newt could get inside your mind.

And how easily he could stir up the warmth inside your stomach and make it rush to your cheeks with only a simple gesture. You had found yourself trying to hide your cheeks when around him too often lately and you were sure he had noticed, but only given you the curtesy of not commenting on it.

“Fuck,” you groaned again and turned over in your cot, your hair prickling your skin with reminder of what tomorrow would bring.

It was difficult to distract your mind from Newt long enough to settle down. Eventually, you managed to fall into a restless sleep, filled with the muddled dreams of red sunlight bouncing off of bluish marble, almost creating the illusion of moving water. You saw the reflection of your form against the stone below you but before you had the chance to take it all in, a hand had clasped your own and another drawn you in by your waist. When you looked up, it was the face of none other than the person you had previously been trying to forget, although you could not fathom why at that moment. Newt. His warm smile calmed you down and you allowed him to lead you into the first steps of a waltz. How you had learnt it you didn’t question, but just followed his captivating eyes and trusted him to catch you if you fell. Those same eyes were gazing into yours, big and brown and with the same curiosity that had gazed on you earlier that day. Only now, you allowed yourself to get lost in the sight of them, to be entranced by their deep swirling darkness. Right when Newt had stretched his arm out and sent you into a light spin, and his hand was ready to welcome you back into his embrace, had his expression changed from one of bliss to one of chock and disgust. You halted, frowning at his actions, before following his line of sight and reaching a hand up to the top of your head. To your horror, all your hair had suddenly vanished. Panic rose through you, clawing blindly at your empty head, wanting to escape from this, from everything, from Newt’s hateful glance. You took a step and tried another but caught the only small imperfection in the marble that caused you to stumble, falling down, down, and down… waiting for the ground to hit you.

What came instead was a slap on your chin, harsh enough to force you awake.

“Ngh— fuck,” you croaked, blinking drowsily. Your vision cleared up as you squinted at your assailant, recognising the judging stare immediately. “Come on, man.”

The sun had barely come up again over the tall walls guarding the Glade when Minho had deigned to make you a visit. That time was usually when you would get ready for your run in the Maze. Apparently, Newt had not said anything to Minho which made you let out a deep groan. Minho was staring down at your messy form, his arms crossed over his chest with a harsh stare pinning you to your place. He cocked his head, raising an eyebrow.

“Anyone tell you you’re an ugly sleeper?” he asked, a sickly sweet smile on his lips.

“No, I’m adorable,” you stated, trying to sit up as best as you could. “I’m taking a day off. I’m sick.” You punctuated your words with the best fake cough you could muster.

Minho looked unconvinced. “No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am,” you countered. When he raised an eyebrow you sighed in defeat. “Okay, I’m not sick. But I’m still taking a day off. If you want to argue, take it up with Newt. He’s got senior on you. And we both know you won’t miss me today.”

Minho’s breath released in a sharp burst as he contemplated your words. Finally, he let his arms fall to his side. “Fine,” he said, but raised a finger to point at you. “But you better have a damn good reason as to why you’re staying here today.”

You shot him a smile. “A damn good reason.”

He rolled his eyes and turned to walk away. “I will miss you, by the way,” he called over his shoulder. Then, he added, with a smug smirk, “Sweetheart.”

It was then your turn to roll your eyes as a bark of laughter forced itself out your throat. You rubbed your face from sleep, trying to get rid of your sluggishness. As you were already awake, you figured you could just as well get up to meet Newt a little earlier. It wouldn’t be long until the rest of the Gladers woke up, anyway.

Minho and the rest of the Runners were already by the Maze’s walls. You could see their figures in the distance as the gates started to open with a loud rumble, one that you could feel shaking the earth beneath your feet. You shook your head and stretched your limbs, feeling them pop and crack individually. Minho liked to be up and early with his runs, but you were glad to get a day off to rest. You turned to your things, changing into a clean pair of clothes and put your hair up, mostly out of autonomy. Last time you would do that for a while, you figured.

Newt’s cot was among one of the empty ones, so you assumed he would have already gone to Frypan’s station to get breakfast. You made your way over there, spotting his slumped figure immediately. He jumped when you dropped down beside him, nicking an apple from his plate.

“Could you maybe get your own food for once?” he asked with a cocked eyebrow. You smiled through your amusement, slowly chewing on the fruit. You swallowed with an exaggerated motion, sending him a sickly sweet smile.

“No,” you said. He rolled his eyes while taking a mouthful of his scrambled eggs, ignoring your presence in the process.

“Remind me again why I needed to take the whole day?” you asked. “Hopefully, Minho won’t feel as murder-y when he gets back later as how he felt this morning.”

You saw the corner of his lip lift into what you imagined to be a smile. Smug bastard.

“My art takes time,” he eventually answered, turning to you. “I want it to look good.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I already look good.”

“And I want you to stay that way.” Newt shot a meaningful glance at the other Gladers, which had you wincing. Some of them could benefit from a more skilful haircut, you must admit.

“Fine.”

“Besides,” he said, “it’s easier when the sun is at its highest. Less chance for me to fuck it up then.”

Newt smiled at you, but his words indicated an underlying threat, one that had you smiling back in amusement. He really loved pushing your buttons. It didn’t help that you actually were concerned about your hair being fucked up—not that you would consider yourself a vain person, but you knew how much someone’s looks could be diminished because of a bad haircut. And your thoughts ran to the dream you’d had; was it a nightmare or a premonition?

You scratched your neck, conscious of the hair touching your skin. “You know what? I’m actually not so certain about this.”

Newt sighed and pinned his gaze on you. “I see you swatting your hair away all the time,” he said, exasperation shining through annoyance. “It’s clearly annoying you.”

His words made something in you flip. “Are you saying that you notice me all the time, then?” you asked with a smug smile, unable to keep your amusement at bay for long.

He ignored your question. “I’m not going to fuck it up, mate.” When you sent him a sceptical glare he sighed again, and asked, “What are you so afraid of? Don’t you trust my skills?”

Your lips tugged in earnest for a moment, before again settling into their smug familiarity. “I guess I’m just scared you’ll find me less attractive if I cut my hair.” You blinked through your eyelashes, meeting Newt’s incredulous gaze. “I mean, what if the whole reason you like me is because of my handsome hair?”

“That’s ridiculous,” he scoffed, turning to look down at his plate.

“So you admit you do find me attractive?” you chuckled.

“Never said that.”

Your lips pressed into a line, wondering if you had crossed the line that time. It took a moment to decide before opening your mouth again. “Will you still help me?”

“Of course,” he smiled at you, winking playfully. The gesture made butterflies immediately appear in your stomach and you had to look away lest he see the smile gracing your lips. He stood up from his seat, leaving the rest of his breakfast untouched, and nudged your side. “C’mon, let’s get going.”

“Now?”

“Yes, now. Or would you rather we wait until I get tired and the light is bad for me to slip with my shears?”

He had a point, damn him. “Fine,” you admitted, following suit and going outside with him. The sun blinded the both of you, already high in the sky. It felt strange for it to be this bright out and not being in the maze running.

Newt started walking toward the garden so you followed point, close at his heel. He picked up a pair of dirty looking shears, turning to flash you a grin. You looked at them skeptically, which he must have noticed.

“Look, they’ll get the job done, alright?”

Your eyebrow cocked. “You sure? Looks like they haven’t worked since ten years ago.”

Newt laughed dryly and nudged past you, walking the way to the woods.

“Hey, where are you going?” you asked.

“The lake. Need to get your hair wet,” he called over his shoulder.

Hmm. Sounded reasonable. You ran to keep up with him and joined him by the lake you had been swimming in the day before. The water looked even more inviting now, with the sun glittering across its surface instead of the afternoon’s deep shadows. Newt, none too gently, shoved you in the direction of it, sitting himself down by the bank.

You flashed a smile to him. “That eager to see me shirtless again?”

He rolled his eyes and reached for the water to splash it up at you. You yelped and jumped out of reach, giving him a stare full of contempt. “Just dump your ‘ead in the water, you knob.”

“Since you asked so kindly.”

You lowered your body closer to the bank, only letting your head submerge under the water. It felt cold, but not uncomfortably so. You felt a tap against your shoulder, Newt, and sprang up into sitting position. Water dripped from your hair, drenching your shirt and face. When you turned to Newt, your smile was crooked.

“Great,” he said, moving to sit behind you, shears in his hands. “Now all you have to do is keep still. Think you can do that?”

“Anything for you, Newt.”

You sighed happily and leant back, letting the sun cast its warm rays over you. You didn’t notice the moment Newt hesitated after your words, before he started drawing his fingers through your hair. All you knew was that suddenly his touch was there and it felt heavenly. You knew he only did it to measure your hair to cut it, but every time his fingers brushed against your scalp shivers erupted across your spine. You almost had the mind to close your eyes and fall asleep right then and there, with Newt almost caressing you. You imagined those same fingers running down from your head, touching the skin over your neck, brushing past your abdomen and squeezing your thighs. Even the thought of it made your breath hitch and you kept still to keep him from noticing anything amiss. Slowly and carefully, he worked, cutting methodically. You cracked an eye open, trying to glance at him from the corner of it.

“How’s it going, Newt?” you asked.

He grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled lightly, and said, “Don’t rush me.”

It was enough to make warmth travel to your cheeks and your abdomen, so you kept quiet after that and let him do his work in peace. His fingers danced closer to your skin then, trying to get to the nape of your neck and it took all your willpower not to shy away from him. Slowly, you relaxed into his hold again, numbed by the featherlight touches and breaths of air fanning over your skin when he sat too close.

And suddenly, it was all over. With one final brush of his hand, his fingers running through your hair thoroughly, he cleared his throat and moved away.

“All done,” said Newt, though it was almost a whisper.

You opened your eyes to the sight of him sitting on his folded knees and his fingers fidgeting with the shears, looking almost as if it took all his power to concentrate on his breathing. You smiled, raising an eyebrow, and ran your own hand through your hair. It felt lighter, and smooth, and you hadn’t realised how much of a relief it was to be gone with the length.

“How do I look?” you asked, meeting his eye.

“Good.”

“Better than before?”

Newt shrugged and stood up. “Good, like always.”

Your lips quirked into a mischievous smile. “You think I’m good looking?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he scoffed, but you could definitely see a redness spreading across his cheeks. He tried to turn away but you were quicker, bounding closer to him and shaking away the cutaway strands in the same movement. It was fun teasing him.

“You’re the one who said it!” you exclaimed.

“Oi, stop being difficult,” he settled his glare on you.

“I’m not.”

He shot you a look, one that told you he was trying to stay annoyed but secretly enjoying your antics. “You are,” he said while turning in the way to the rest of the Glade, shears hanging loosely from his grip.

You ripped your gaze from his long fingers, the image of them making your mind return to how you had wanted him to touch you earlier, and instead ran to keep up with his steps. You could sense the smile hiding in the corner of his lip, almost like a sixth sense, determined to bring it out. So, eyebrows lifted in a suggestive expression, you saddled closer to his side and said, “But you like a challenge, right—so why are you complaining?”

The gaze Newt responded with could only be described as filled with disbelief, and something else—something mischievous. “So now you’re a challenge, hm?” he asked, his eyebrows disappearing behind the ruffles of his hair.

You frowned and tilted your head at him. “Hey! Are you calling me easy?”

“Well, if the haircut fits…” he trailed off, leaving the rest of the sentence up to your active imagination.

“Now that’s just plain rude,” you muttered, lowering your gaze to the ground to avoid any missteps in the uncertain terrain of the Glade’s woods.

“I’m so very sorry, mate,” said Newt, without much conviction. You rolled your eyes at his sarcastic tone and noticed the flashing smile that was then all too visible on his face. “How can I make it up to you?”

“You can start by not calling me ‘mate’,” you retorted, not thinking through your words except to win this ‘argument’.

Newt glanced at you. “And what would you rather me call you?”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged, avoiding his gaze, while all too aware of what he was trying to get you to admit. But you were comfortable with the dance you and him were engaged in. It had been going on for so long that you had forgotten how to not do it with him. It was easier to keep dancing with him, to keep the illusion of a ballroom couple perfect rather than to quiet the orchestra and run from your Prince Charming. Newt seemed to sense where your thoughts had run to, as he tried to meet your gaze.

“You sure about that?” he asked sceptically.

“Er, yeah?”

Newt was way too good at reading you and would not believe any excuses you tried to make, however convincing they may be. You both despised and admired him for it. He stopped you in your tracks with a hand across your midriff; the feel of his fingers pressing against your skin, even through the shirt, made shivers travel down your spine. The hand quickly retreated as he tried searching your eyes.

“I—,” he started, voice unsteady. He cleared his throat to regain his composure as you waited for him, arms crossed, trying to keep up the charade any way you could. “I think you’d rather me call you ‘good looking’. Or ‘handsome’. Or ‘pretty’. Or what about ‘love’, hm?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, trying to ignore the warmth traveling up your neck to rush to your cheeks. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t,” he said, an eyebrow raised from the very obvious tremor in your voice.

“Are you teasing me, Newt?” you asked incredulously.

Newt flashed you a smug smile and shrugged, looking away bashfully. “Got to be my turn to do it sometime,” he said.

You were used to you teasing him and poking fun, but he always took it in stride and seldom flirted back—which was what this had somehow turned into. If you’d known you two would end up flirting because of him cutting your hair you never would have agreed to his help—or maybe you still would have. Either way, there was no escaping it now. Fuck it, you thought. A frustrated groan seethed through your pressed lips as you threw your hands up in exasperation.

“You know what? Fine,” you said, meeting Newt’s gaze defiantly. “Yes, I’d like to be called all of those things. And I would like to call you all of those things.” You paused to then search Newt’s gaze, but he just stared at you in stunned silence and made no attempt to answer, so you kept going, albeit slightly more hesitant. “I—I want to hold you, to touch you, embrace you in the way that simple friends shouldn’t do. I’d like to whisper into your ear at night how much you brighten my days and make this shucking life worth living. Most of all, I would like to call you mine.”

You paused again to inhale deeply, your breathing shallow after your rant. It had driven your emotions to the surface so well you might as well have been wearing your feelings on your sleeve, ready to hand out romantic professions for anyone bothering to glance your way.

You hadn’t noticed how warm your cheeks had suddenly gotten, and made to move away while muttering, “There—I’ve said it. Let’s just go.”

“Wait—no—” Newt shouted, throwing out his arm to grab your wrist.

He pulled you back into him, making you lose balance, and a moment later his lips had closed over yours. The surprised gasp that had escaped your lips was quieted by his kiss and you quickly melted into his embrace. Immediately, his fingers closed over your nape, taking hold of your now-short hair and drawing you even closer. You could feel him pressing himself closer in whatever way he could manage, one hand tugging at your hair and the other clawing at your waist. Each individual touch sent sparks of warmth and cold over your skin as your hands closed over his jaw and throat. Even your imagination couldn’t have predicted how he would feel, how his body would fit against yours and make you want to never breathe again if it meant you could stay with him, like this, forever.

Finally, you had to pull away to suck in a deep breath of air, Newt trailing after and barely letting you go. You couldn’t fight the chuckle that forced its way out nor the grin that spread over your lips. Neither could he, as you saw his blushing face break out in a beam and his eyes jumping all over your face. It made you painfully aware of yourself and you bowed your head to settle against the crook of his neck, bashful in spite of your close contact. His hands were still holding onto your waist and kept your body pressed against him.

“Don’t get shy now,” he chided, though his tone was light and his fingers were rubbing slow circles across your back.

Despite the warm sun that glared over the pair of you, his gesture made a shiver crawl up your spine and you pulled away to look at him with an arched eyebrow. “Really, you’re calling me shy?” He nodded to your question. “I’m shy when you’re here— Have you completely forgotten who’s always bold and teases and openly flirts with you?”

Newt scoffed, drawing his hands over the small of your back. “Well, maybe I stole your boldness when I kissed you.”

You almost couldn’t believe him. His cheeks were already flushed, but burned even brighter when your hand pressed against his neck to pull him in again, forcefully pressing your lips against his and claiming his tongue as yours. In doing so, you swallowed his surprised gasp with your kiss, but he didn’t manage to suppress the moan when you took his bottom lip between your teeth and bit lightly. It made you smile smugly, pulling away immediately to look upon his bright red face and dazed expression.

“Who’s shy now, hm?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest and stepping out of his hold.

Newt shot you an angry glance, but it was difficult to take him seriously when he was also blushing furiously. He decided to leave it at that and with not much dignity, pick up the shears he had dropped and started walking back towards the huts. Again, you had to run after him with laughter playing on your lips. You could tell he wasn’t really annoyed, but it was easy to slip back in the comfortable dance of your relationship.

You wouldn’t let him pretend like all of this had not happened, though. He looked at you in surprise when your hand sought out his own, fingers intertwining and closing over his. You smiled back, feeling a slight burning at the tip of your ears, but he leant in and placed a light kiss that made you wish for more again, which eased your nervousness.

“Guess we’re both a little shy, huh,” he remarked. You just shrugged, looking ahead to the opening of the forest, but the smile still apparent on your lips.

“And where the fuck have you two been?” cried Alby’s voice as soon as you stepped out of the trees.

Immediately, you felt as if you jumped out of your skin and let go of Newt’s hand, his cheeks burning as much as yours did. You scratched the back of your neck and glanced sheepishly at Newt, catching the mischievous glint in his eyes; neither of you could fight the smiles that broke out on both your faces.

“On your head be it, you said,” you smirked, slipping away from his indignant eyebrow raise.

You left Newt to deal with Alby alone with a playful wink, to which he only shook his head and hid his smile as he faced the approaching commander. You had half a mind to skip away with the happiness that were bubbling through you, but managed to contain yourself to walking away with a steady pace, though you couldn’t keep your thoughts from running back to the memory of Newt against you nor the smile that followed.

END NOTE ➢ I do have an idea for a part two should anyone be interested in it. Hope you enjoyed this!

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angstywaifu · 2 months

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The Lost Sister - Part 13

Synopsis: Xaden is known as an only child due to his sister who 'died' during the Rebellion. Little do they know she didn't die and has been so close this entire time.

Garrick Tavis x OC

A/N: This is my first time writing anything like this so any feedback would be amazing. I really hope you enjoy it. I will openly admit there is not much plot to this chapter. Enjoy. Warnings: smut 18+ The Lost Sister Masterlist | Masterlist

Garrick easily picks me up, my legs wrapping instantly around his waist as he backs us up. My back meeting the wall behind me. Garrick is everywhere. His lips trail down my jaw and neck. Kissing and biting at the skin. I don’t hold back from the noises that escape my lips, which only seem to spur him on, his hands griping me tightly. As my fingers lace themselves into the curls at the nape of his neck, a groan rumbles through his body, his eyes opening and I can barely see the usual hazel due to how blown out his pupils are. I can see the lust and desire burning in them, and I have no doubt my eyes are the same.

Garrick decides the wall isn’t the best place anymore and quickly moves us so I am sitting on my desk, kicking my chair across the room as it slams into the armoire. His hands quickly move to the zipper of my jacket, sliding it down in one swift motion and pushing it down my arms. Garrick was not wasting his time. He knew what he wanted and what I wanted. He kneels in front of me, kissing down my legs as he makes quick work of unlacing one of my boots which I bring my other leg up to do the same. They soon join my jacket on the floor, quickly followed by his jacket and boots as well. As he stands I tug on the bottom of the shirt he is still wearing, he grabs it and pulls it off in one swift movement. Gods it was hot, and so was the view underneath. I’d seen him without a shirt many times due to him and Xaden often opting to train without them. But up close it was something else. I reach out and run my hand down his chest and I feel him shiver and groan at my touch. He loops a finger in my pants and pulls me up flush against him, his mouth meeting mine in a passionate kiss as he runs his fingers through my hair.

His hands continue their exploration, trailing down my arms, leaving a fiery path in their wake. His touch both thrilling and tormenting. I clutch at his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin as I seek something to anchor myself to amidst the whirlwind of sensations he's stirring within me.

I tug on his hair, bringing his face closer to mine. His lips meet mine once again, the taste of him intoxicating. Our breaths mingle, each kiss more urgent, more demanding than the last as we lose ourselves in the rhythm of the dance we've begun. He breaks away from the kiss and trails his lips along the curve of my jawline, his teeth grazing my skin in a tantalizing tease that sends a shiver down my spine.

He pulls back and meets my gaze, his eyes a storm of desire and promise. It's an unspoken conversation, a promise of what's to come that leaves me breathless in anticipation. His eyes are the last thing I see before he dips his head, his lips tracing the pulse in my neck, making my heart race even faster.

It his turn to tug on my shirt as my fingers fumble with the ties on his pants. He quickly knocks my hand away, bitting my neck playfully. But also in warning. He’s in charge right now. He breaks away from my neck to pull the shirt from my body with one hand, while the other is already working on the ties of my leather flight pants. He wraps an arm around my waist, picking me up and in one swift motion I am seated back on the desk with my flight pants now on the floor. Leaving me just in my underwear. His eyes rake over my body as if taking in every detail. The smirk he gives me as his eyes meet mine sends heat rushing to my core. He reaches down, his fingers stroking me through the thin fabric. My back arching into him as my moan echoes off the walls.

“Gods, Ophelia.” Garrick huskily whispers into my ear, his breath tickling my neck. “You keep this up and I’ll be done before I can properly feel you.”

He applies more pressure, coercing another moan from my lips as he lightly bites my earlobe. My hand flying to his hair and pulling on the curls. This time I pull the moan from him. His lips are on mine again in a blatantly carnal kiss. He pushes my legs apart further with his, a rip echoing through the room as the fabric is discarded. I’m too lost in the moment to care as his fingers delve deeper and plunge inside. A hiss leaving Garrick’s lips as my finger nails dig into his shoulder, and my hand tightening on the curls in his hair. I quickly make work of the last of the ties on his flight leathers, and push them down far enough to free his cock, grasping it in my hands. The moan that rips from his lips has me clenching around the fingers he has inside me. He’s eyes almost look black as he leans his forehead against mine as we both touch each other, our heavy breaths almost in sync. Garrick with his free hand loosens the ties and pulls the last of his pants off with his free hand. He removes his fingers from me and I huff at loss as he removes my hand from him.

He pulls me to the edge of the desk, the head of his cock rubbing against me, a gasp leaves my lips as his eyes lock with mine, hunger and lust evident in them and I have no doubt mine are the same. He rocks back and forth, teasing me, the laugh that leaves his lips telling me he’s doing it on purpose as I whine. I take matters into my own hands by locking my legs around his hips and pull him into me, both of us gasping as the first few inches enter me. He holds me against him as picks me up and takes us back to the wall where we started. As he leans me against the wall, I sink down on him, taking him completely. Both our heads rolling back at the sensation. Garrick gathers his composure first as he pulls out and thrusts back in, both our moans echoing off the walls of my room. Every thrust hitting the perfect spot almost every time deep inside me. Garrick slams back into me over and over again at a brutal pace that does not surprise me. Honestly I had always imaged that this is what it would be like. Intense, intimate and passionate. It’s as if Garrick already knows everything about my body as he reaches down to rub the sensitive bundle of nerves,, his mouth latching down on one of my nipples. My fingernails rake down his back, and I know tomorrow there will be deep red marks down it from me. But neither of us cares right now as a groan rips from his lips, the pace of his thrusts increasing.

I feel the coil building inside me and Garrick must notice it to. “I’ve got you little one. Let go.” He whispers in my ear.

He pulls us from the wall, my back hitting the bed as he drives into me even faster and deeper than before, my eyes rolling back at the intense feeling. Garrick reaches down to rub on my clit again and I’m coming undone beneath him.

”Shit.” Garrick mutters, his pace faltering as he finishes seconds after me.

Garrick picks me up, laying down on my bed and laying me on his chest. His arms wrapped around me, tracing patterns over my sensitive skin. Every time I shiver I feel his chest rumble with a chuckle.

“I should have confronted you about that day earlier if I knew this is how it was going to end.” He teases as I smack him lightly on the chest.

”Don’t think the other first years would have appreciated seeing that.” I reply.

”Could have always taken you to my room. Bigger bed as well.” He whispers flirtatiously.

I shift and look up at him with a raised eyebrow. “The room that is right next to Xaden’s? Yeah, great idea.”

He chuckles and nods. “Yeah that one.”

I roll my eyes at him and place my head back on his chest. “Good to know you like a side of murder with your sex.”

I feel his chest rumble with laughter again as a yawn escapes my lips. It had been a long day of dragon bonding, celebrating and now this. Garrick tightens his grip on me as he places the blanket over us. With a wave of his hand the mage light in my room turns off, plunging us into darkness as moonlight fills the room.

As I drift off in his arms to the steady beating of his heart, Garrick places a kiss to the top of my head and whispering into my hair, so quiet I nearly miss it.

”Mine.”

Part 14

@riorgail @going-through-shit @fw-gt @bbkissme99 @xceafh

#fourth wing #fourth wing fanfic #the empyrean #garrick tavis #garrick tavis x reader #the fourth wing #garrick tavis imagine #garrick tavis x oc #garrick tavis smut #fourth wing smut

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chaotic-mystery · 2 months

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Code Red Chapter Eight | I Could Fly Home, With My Eyes Closed

Pairing: No outbreak AU dbf!Joel Miller x f!OC (told in 2nd POV)

Summary: Everything's going good with Joel and your life, but is it almost too good? What happens when you put Joel on the spot about taking a vacation together?

Content Warnings: SMUT, 18+ only blog MDNI. Enemies to lovers, dads best friend Joel, age gap (readers in her twenties and Joel is in his forties), slow burn, strained father/daughter relationship, daddy issues, swearing, arguing, mentions of anxiety and how that feels, angst, showering with Joel, hand job, dirty talk, morning sex, penetration (p in v), pet names (Joel refers to himself as daddy and you call him that as well), worshipping, fantasizing about eating you out at work, power dynamic, reader smokes. (If I've missed anything please let me know!)

Authors Note: I'm back. After some long thinking I decided it would be best to change Code Red from a reader insert to a female OC told in 2nd POV. There's just too much in here that adds to the story and dynamics for it to continue to be a reader insert while also being a blank slate. I want to reiterate the reader IS NOT physically described in any way other than having hair long enough to push away from the face. There's an underlying personality that I want to add and explore more and I hope you guys love it just as much as I do. Thank you always @pedgito for beta-ing for me, I love you. I love you all and thank you for the constant support on this. || wc: 5.3k || notif blog || ao3 ||

Every night for the past few months you were staying late at work with Joel to help him sort through the blueprints Tommy left out all over the place during the day. Joel’s hands rest on your shoulders as you sit at your desk, typing up some paperwork so you don’t have to worry about it later.He leans down close to your ear and ever so softly glides his lips over the shell of your ear.

“Can we go now, baby? S’getting late and I need to get some food in my belly.” A soft kiss to your cheek makes you smile, face growing warmer by the second.

“Just one more and then I’ll be done, I swear it.” You chuckle and squirm away, trying to type as fast as you can. His lips motivate you to keep going and soon enough his hands follow, dragging up your sides and stopping right over your wrists.

“No, no more. It’ll be here for tomorrow.” Your chair spins around and you become face to face with Joel.

“Mmmm I’m not too sure if my boss will like that.” You joke.

A grin fights to spread on his lips. “Yeah, baby? Since when do you care about making me upset?”

“Since always.” Bullshit. You make him upset for the fun of it. The way his brows knit together and he gets that frown, arms crossed over his chest. He looked so good when he was mad.

He reaches out his hand and pushes back on your chair to make it recline the closer he gets to your face, a small hum coming from his mouth. Menthol and tobacco tickles your nose as Joel leans in as close as he can before touching his plush lips to yours. You can almost taste him. You need him so badly.

“You’re not a very good liar, sweet girl.”

He finally closes the gap between you two and his tongue immediately wants access to your mouth which you happily oblige. Pulling him closer as if he was going to disappear, you run your fingers through his dirty curls at the nape of his neck. He was your drug and by god did you need every single ounce of him. Soft grunts come from between his lips which causes you to smirk between kisses and makes you wonder how far he’d let this go right here at your desk.

Just as you grab his shirt to pull it from where it was tucked in his jeans, Joel laughs and pulls away slightly, just enough to look at you.

“Come on, let’s go home.”

Home.

What he means is your house, but home slipped out so effortlessly. Like clock work he’d drive you two back to your shared neighborhood and he’d grab clothes from his house and usually something to read, either the farmers almanac or a magazine from the gas station, and come over to eat dinner with you before you hole up for the night and relax. It was only on nights Sarah wasn’t home and with her mother, as she had no idea about her dad dating the cool neighbor to the left of them. You respected the idea of him not wanting to tell her yet. The feeling always came back to you late at night when Joel was asleep in your bed with soft snores coming from him, always reminding you how wonderful he really was. Joel would never put Sarah in the position to constantly have women coming and going in her life, confusing her every single time she’d come back to his house and learn her dad was no longer with his girlfriend. Alan on the other hand, was good at making your life feel like a revolving door, no stability, no good people around besides what little family of his he tolerated. Joel is the complete opposite of him and how they’re friends, you’ll never understand.

✮

You toss your purse onto the counter as Joel locks the deadbolt on the front door before he kicks his boots off onto the mat and groans tiredly as his feet rest flat on the hardwood floor. You grab a glass from the cabinet above your head to pour yourself a glass of water to go with your fries from the diner you just left. Joel looks at you with a puzzled expression on his face as he walks over to you.

“What are you doin’, I thought you were full?”

You put a fry in your mouth and look at him before answering.

“No, but I noticed how tired you were and I didn’t want you to wait on me to finish so that’s why I asked Pearl for a box. No big deal baby, it’s fine.”

Joel's face drops as he starts to understand why you did what you did.

“Baby…” He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose before continuing, “please don’t do that.”

“Do what?” You question with a mouth full of french fries and look at him confused. You weren’t seeing an issue with what you did but it was clear Joel was feeling differently.

“This. Don’t rush yourself and not finish eating because you think I’m annoyed you’re taking too long or whatever may be the case.” Joel checks his tone and makes sure he’s not coming across as mad, but concerned.

He steps in front of you and grabs your face, thumb smoothing over your cheek slowly as he looks at your eyes.

“As corny as this is gonna sound, I'm gonna say it anyway. I will always wait for you, doesn’t matter what Im waiting on you for. If you’re eating I want you to enjoy your food, not look at me and think you gotta finish the rest at home because you think I’m gonna get mad at ya. Take your time, okay? I’m not going anywhere. Promise.” His attempt at reassuring you ends with a kiss to your forehead and his arms wrapping around you tightly until you’re against him with not an inch between you two.

Your throat tightens with the need to apologize for doing that, as if you’ve done something wrong.

“Okay…I’m sorry…” You mutter against his chest.

“It’s fine, honey. I’m not mad at ya. Tell you what, why don’t I go shower and then we can watch a movie. How’s that sound?” You kiss him in agreement and Joel gives you a tired smile before he walks towards the bathroom with his clean clothes in hand. Time ticks on and it feels like eternity before you hear the water start and the shower curtain close and you couldn’t help but want to sit in there with him and just be near him. He made you finally feel comfortable in every aspect of yourself to allow yourself the small things as such.

You walk over to the bathroom door and clutch the crystal door knob to give it a turn and open the door just enough for you to slip inside. Steam whooshes past your face and the smell of your cucumber melon body wash fills your nose and you can’t help but smile at him smelling like you, never gets old.

“What’re you doin’ in here?” Joel hollers in a playful tone as he lathers his body with soap.

You rest against the sink with your arms folded over your chest and for a second you think about ripping your clothes off to join him. You must’ve been taking too long to respond, suddenly your face was sprinkled with water to snap you back to reality.

“You just gonna stand there and be silent or are you gonna get your ass in here?”

That was all you needed to hear. Your clothes were on the floor before he could finish rinsing the stress filled day off his body. Joel turns around to the back of the shower and looks at you kind of surprised, not thinking you’d really join him in the shower. He switches spots with you and your eyes flutter shut with the trail of warm water running down your body until you’re covered in it.

“Do you want me to wash your back for you, honey?”

You think for a moment and answer Joel truthfully.

“Not at the moment but um…I was wondering if you’d hold me? Just for a second and then I’ll wa-“

Joel stops you by wrapping his arms around your torso from behind and giving you a light squeeze to let you know it’s okay.

Nothing mattered in that moment besides him in that ugly green bathroom you hated so much, with his arms wrapped around you as if he’s won the lottery or something. To him he did, he definitely won.

Joel, trying to be as much of a gentleman as he could be, starts to inch his fingers down your hip little by little, tugging you closer against his groin.

“You’re so beautiful. Fuck I’m so lucky to even be this close to you.” He kisses your shoulder and continues speaking.

“To touch you.” A kiss between your shoulder blades.

“To see your bratty ass sitting so pretty at that desk at work…bet you didn’t even know you make me so hard I have to distract myself with something else before I do something I’ll regret.” His teeth ever so slightly graze your earlobe before he spins you around to face him.

You open your eyes slowly and decide to test him a little more.

“Like what? What would you do that you’d regret?” Smoothing over his sides beneath the warm water, you kiss his chest and hear his breath shudder, distracted from giving you a polite version of his answer.

“To take you to the bathroom stall and eat your pussy until you’re screaming against my hand on your mouth, begging me to stop.”

“What makes you think I’d let you get that far before I’d get my hands on you?” You retort. Joke was on him, you’d never let him get ahead of you like that before you got your way with him first.

Still, you wanted to play this game with him. Before he could respond, you lean up and kiss him roughly, your hand traveling down his stomach until you bump his cock, already half hard just thinking about having you in such a predicament.

A moan chokes out from Joel as if he’s been holding that one back forever and you can’t help but get into how much power you have over him, regardless what he says. Each stroke to his cock from your wet hand earns you a louder moan than the previous one, his hand reaching down desperately to cup your ass, water splashing against your feet harshly.

“F-fuck baby, jus’ like that. My god-”

You hook your arm on his shoulder to keep him still as you go faster and kiss his neck, more and more moans pouring from his soft lips like honey. Joel’s knees begin to buckle a little and you smirk in the crook of his neck before biting the skin just enough to make him wince.

“You’re so fucking hard, Joel. Dirty old man, thinking about eating me out at work. Tsk tsk tsk.” Whatever he’s been doing to you over the past months was giving you this new found confidence to be a dirty talker and a little dominant even though you were the biggest brat he’s ever crossed.

Joel’s eyes squeeze tight as he takes in your words mixed with your hand curling just right over the sensitive tip.

“O-old man, huh? But you wanna suck this old man's dick, don’t you?”

He got you there, you wanted to do more than that.

“Maybe, maybe not.”

“What did I say earlier, honey…you’re not a very good liar.” He moans out and you pump his cock faster, hoping it would keep him from talking.

Just as his groans echoes off the tile of the shower walls, you hear tires on the gravel driveway outside. You both stop in your places and turn to look out the small window above your head and notice your dad’s truck in your driveway.

Fuck.

Immediately you shut the water off and throw Joel’s towel at him and tell him to stay in the tub before you close the curtain on him and wrap a new towel around you from the closet. Hastily you begin to run around your entire place trying to grab anything that remotely looked like someone else was here with you. Joel’s boots sitting by the front door catches your eye and you bend down to grab them, hearing your doorbell ring. A big clunk comes from the boots hitting the closet floor before you close the doors and you can see your father’s shadow in the frosted glass of your front door.

Fuck.

Three loud knocks to the glass pane makes you jump and you holler loud enough for him to hear outside, “One second! Hold on!” You run to your room and throw on a robe quickly before making your way back to the door with the fabric tied tightly around your body.

You open the door to face your dad’s back and he turns to face you.

“Bad time?” He dryly asks.

“N-no, I was just getting out of the shower. Not trying to be rude but what are you doing here? It’s so late and I didn’t know you knew where I lived…” You close the collar on your robe more as the wind breezes past, sending goosebumps down your already anxious body.

“I uh, I didn’t. I came to see Joel but he’s probably asleep, didn’t answer…and I noticed your car over here, didn’t know yall were neighbors.” He breathes in sharply as if he’s offended you didn’t share that with him.

“So do I get to see the place or not?” He half asks as he’s trying to step inside before you give your answer. Noticing how pushy he’s being, it’s clear something is bothering him but he won’t spit it out.

“No it’s really messy in here, I’ll invite you back though, promise.” You hold the door against your side tightly, foot behind it to keep it still. The awkwardness lingers while he processes you telling him no, something he’s never been able to understand when it comes from you.

Tongue in cheek, he nods a little disappointedly and steps backwards to the railing of the porch.

“S’okay. Didn’t think you’d want your dad in your space anyway, I get it.” There it was. The same sad sob story he always gave, his favorite card to play the second you didn’t turn into his puppet like you used to as a little girl.

“Dad-” you begin, “-it’s not like that, I swear.” Your head falls as you can feel yourself getting more and more upset by the second. Nothing good is going to come from this, from him knowing you live here. Next to Joel.

“Did you find a new job yet? The girls down at the bar keep talkin’ about how everyone around here knows about the little fight you caused months ago and now no one wants to hire ya.” The nerve he had to come over here, thinking you’d be chit chatty at almost eleven o’clock at night, just to hear how those bitches down at the bar that don’t even know you, tell your dad about his own daughter.

Speechless, you stand there with a growing lump in your throat that acted as a net and stole every single word that you attempted to choke out.

“I’m just saying, it doesn’t look good on me.”

Unbelievable.

Blood boiling like water on a stove, you sigh loudly and stand straight up, ready to tell him exactly what you were thinking.

“I have a job now, thanks. I’ve had one for a few months now, actually. Thank you for coming over here and insulting me and telling me what the girls at that grimey fucking bar think of me. I really appreciate it, dad. Goodnight.” You slam the door and lock it before he has the chance to open it and knowing him he would. Within seconds your heartbeat begins to race and your head gets dizzy, Joel takes notice and he’s clothed now as he comes from around the corner. There’s no room to care that he heard every word of what just happened, you can’t get air into your lungs fast enough and you look panicked at him.

“J-Joel I-” You clutch your chest and glance around the room quickly.

He rushes over to you and cups your face, muttering something to soothe you but you can’t make out what he’s saying.

“I-I’m gonna go sh-shower.”

“Baby, are you okay? Do you want me to come sit in there with you?” He asks but everything seems so muffled over the beat of your own heart that hasn’t slowed yet. You wander towards the bathroom and shut the door behind you, locking it without answering Joel. Warm tears glide down your cheeks as you start the water once more and step in, your cold body shivering under the now hot water that feels like it’s going to melt your skin off.

Why would he say that? Surely he defended you to them, right? As a father, he could not have just sat there and let them talk about you like that, no way. Anyone in their right mind would never let someone talk about their daughter in such a manner but this was your dad, and he wasn’t a regular dad.

Trails of water run down your back and you stand in silence with a hand over your mouth to muffle the sobs you started to let out. You couldn’t tell if it was tears or water from the shower coating your face anymore.

✮

The sunlight slowly begins to pour into your bedroom, mourning doves singing faintly as they sit in the trees. As you lay there with Joel snoring on his back next to you, you couldn’t help but replay the night before. Your dad knowing where you live, especially next to Joel, wasn’t something you ever planned on sharing. Deep in thought, you didn’t even notice Joel stirring awake next to you until you’re engulfed by his arms wrapping around you and tugging you into him.

“Good morning, baby.” He mumbles in your ear and nuzzles into your neck, eyes still shut. His favorite thing to do as soon as he’s awake is to pull you close and have a cuddle before you get up for the day, but today felt different. The house was silent but there was this unmentioned tenseness you didn’t talk about from last night and you weren’t even sure if he did hear everything your dad said to you.

Failure. An embarrassment. How long before Joel soon started to see you that way?

“Hey…you’re doin’ too much thinkin’ before you’ve had coffee. What’s the matter?” Soft kisses to your cheek snaps you out of it and you try to shake it off.

“Nothin, it’s nothing. Do you want pancakes or waffles for breakfast?” You sounded like you were trying to convince yourself more than you were Joel.

“I want this. Just stay like this a little longer.” Joel presses more kisses to your shoulder and trails them over your chest until you’re on your back, tucked under him snugly.

“You don't really want that.”

Joel scoffs and dips his head under the covers to soon place his mouth on your stomach. “It’s exactly-“ he pecks your skin, “-what I want.” A low groan vibrates against your belly and you laugh slightly from the tickling sensation as your fingers manage their way into his soft bed head.

Hooking his index and middle finger in the waistband of your panties, Joel starts to trail his mouth down your abdomen and bites at the blue cotton fabric covering your growing aching heat by the second.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” Joel kisses your clothed pussy before dipping his fingers inside right to your clit. Slipping against his fingers makes you moan in his mouth and press your body against his enough to make your nipples brush against his arm.

“J-fuck-Joel, please fuck me, god damn. Fuck me.” Your whiny pleads only make him finger you in more of a teasing manner, changing speeds and styles sporadically against your desperate attempts to fuck yourself against him. His mouth falls open to bite your earlobe while his fingers toy with your entrance.

“You want daddy’s big dick inside you, hm? Use your manners.” His left hand comes up to rest on your windpipe as he kisses your lips.

“Please, please please, daddy, please fill me up.”

Everything was different this morning, even the sex. He felt more gentle with his actions, not wanting to throw you around like a ragdoll this time and it was a nice change for you.

With a swift move Joel shucks off his basketball shorts and runs the tip of his cock through your folds, coating himself in your arousal as his lube.

“That’s right, such a good girl for me.” His finger swirls slowly on your plush lips before going inside your mouth, pressing down on your tongue softly. Like muscle memory, you suck his finger and bite down firmly when he puts his cock inside you, the pressure subduing rather quickly when you adjust to him.

Quivering warm breaths hit your neck as Joel buries his face into you. Moaning and groaning echo off your bedroom walls and you feel Joel nibble on your neck trying to get you to moan louder for him.

“Yesss oh my god Joel, just like that please.” Your slurred words go quieter as his hips slam into you, but it wasn’t the normal rough sex. The passion was through the roof and he wanted to make you feel worshiped.

“You’re so good to me baby doll, so damn good to me.” His husky voice is like liquid velvet in your ears and you can’t get enough. Joel’s name flys from your mouth with every other curse word you can rattle off as you start to feel that burning sensation in the pits of your belly. Arms wrapping around his neck and nails clawing at his back, your legs close around his waist subconsciously, trying to get him deep inside you as you could. It felt too good to let him sit up and pound into you, that’s not what you wanted.

Chasing that orgasm, Joel starts to whimper in your ear everything you want to hear, squirming on top of you as he made it his mission to make you come before he did and he was putting in the work. Joel’s mouth around your nipples, biting and sucking for moments at a time before he goes back to your neck, then back to your nipples.

“Cmon, jus’ like that. F-fuck, baby-ughhh-yes, I-I-” His words fall short on your lips as they connect, tongues dancing in the middle together.

“I-I love y-you” was the last thing you heard before coming on his cock thrusting deeply inside of you and with a few more pumps, Joel was shooting warm ropes of cum inside you.

Panting underneath him trying to catch your breath, you smooth the curls at the nape of his neck and whisper, “I love you too.”

I love you.

Of course you wanted to say it months ago, hell, you’ve been waiting to say it since he defended you that night at White Pony. Being with him for the last eight months was nothing short of trying. You butt heads like no one’s business and throw little comments at each other under your breaths and he doesn’t take your shit, as do you his.

I love you.

It sounded so good coming from him.

I love you.

✮

Seeing Joel all fucked out and snoring softly in your room with pink sheets and pillowcases surrounding him makes you laugh quietly to yourself, the most southern man you’ve ever met who wasn’t afraid to sleep in a hyper pink room. He always tells you it’s the best sleep he can get but you’re convinced it’s just your mattress he loves.

A knock on your front door makes you jump slightly. A Saturday morning and someone knocking on your door? Probably the neighborhood kids playing around. Pulling on your black sweatpants and a clean shirt from off the floor, you slink down the stairs and open the front door to a bouquet of roses sitting right at the edge of the stairs.

What the fuck?

Small rainbows casted onto the wooden porch as the sun shined through it, roses dancing ever so gracefully in the breeze. A card poked through the bubblegum pink bulbs and you could feel your anxiety growing from something you were unsure about. Not many had your address but now that your dad knows where you live, who knows what shit he’d pull.

“Miss you, baby girl! I’m so proud of you for doing what’s best for you. Hope these get to you when you need them the most.

-mom”

She always did have a good intuition of when you needed her the most. You dip inside without making too much noise to grab your cigarettes and lighter from your purse sitting by the coat rack, closing the front door softly to assure Joel wouldn’t wake.

Warm tobacco fills your lungs to take the edge off your anxiety and for some reason you couldn’t stop feeling like you needed to go see your mom. She had a cabin out in Michigan right in South Haven near the beach, private and secluded just how she always wanted, that you never grew tired of being in. It’s been years since you’ve got to go due to work and moving all over the place to get away from your mistakes that seemed to follow no matter where you went. Texas was safe, for now at least.

The slowly burning cigarette was getting towards the end and you crushed the butt against the sidewalk before flicking it into the pebbles by your bushes and groaning at yourself mentally, knowing Joel will see it and give you an earful later about doing that.

Why shouldn’t you go see your mom? You had the money saved up and it didn’t seem to be too hard to get your boss to agree to give you the time off. Your feet move as fast as they can back inside the house to the counter to set the flowers down and then upstairs to Joel in your bed, sound asleep on his stomach with his face barely visible behind his bicep of his arm tucked under the satin pink pillow.

Climbing on top of him and basically straddling his ass, you pull the covers off him and rub his back slowly, dragging your nails up and down his skin softly. A couple of mumbles leave his lips as he stirs under you, his other arm reaching backwards and squeezing your leg just enough to realize it was you.

“Mmmmbabyyyy whasthemaddur?” His cheeks squished together distort his words but by this point you were fluent in half asleep Joel language.

“I need to ask my boss something but I don’t know what he’ll say.” You giggle and kiss the top of his back and lay your chest on him, your arms at his sides comfortably. His heart was beating faster with every rise and fall of breath he takes in.

“I was um…I was thinking ya know…I want to go see my mom, in Michigan.” You looked in his direction before continuing. “And I was wondering if I could get maybe a week off? Pleaseeee.” You drag out the last word and start to kiss his back more in hopes he’d comply and give in faster. Was Joel really prepared to tell you no?

He turns his head the opposite way and coughs as he wakes up more, chuckling at your attempts to butter him up.

“You, my favorite worker, want a week off? To go on vacation? The nerve!” Joel’s dramatic tone takes you by surprise and you continue kissing his back trying to contain your laughter.

“She lives in Michigan? Must be pretty nice there on the lake- never been but I’ve been to Chicago a few times, real pretty out on the water.” The softness in his voice makes your heart swell a little and before you can stop yourself you ask flat out, “what if you came with me?”

Joel turns to the side and dumps you onto the bed before sitting up to look at you.

“What?” The smile was long gone now from where it was mere seconds ago on his face.

You push the fluffy comforter out of your sight and meet his eyes.

“Come with me. Let me show you around Michigan and you can meet my mom, maybe.” Everything felt right, it felt like the right time for Joel to meet your mom, having been together for eight months now.

Joel fiddles with the loose thread coming from the cover and you start to get that anxious feeling again.

“I um…I can’t, darlin’...I’m sorry. I just-” He stops but he doesn’t know how to continue, so he doesn’t attempt to say more for what felt like eternity. “With Sarah and everything I can’t, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, I get it.” Your voice cracks and you sit up facing the wall to hastily wipe your face and pretend like that didn’t just break your heart a little.

✮

A couple weeks pass and it’s been awkward between you and Joel since he shut down the idea of meeting your mother. It wasn’t like you’d be around her the entire trip but he didn’t give you a chance to explain either. Maybe that was too far for his boundaries.

With your flight booked and your bags packed sitting by the front door, Joel had been distant at work and didn’t stay for long when he’d come over after work. Was this your punishment for trying to grow with him?

As you dragged your luggage to the driver you booked, you notice Joel’s truck gone from his driveway and your heart drops in your chest. Not even a goodbye, see you when you get back, nothing.

You get in the back of the car and drive to the airport with tears stinging your eyes. You’ve officially scared him off and he wants nothing to do with you now.

His phone rings four times before you get his voicemail, that voice is like music to your ears.

“This is Joel, I uh- I can’t come to the phone right now but leave me a message I call ya back- bye.”

The recording beeps and suddenly you’re speaking exactly what you’re thinking.

“Joel…it’s me. I um-“ your voice cracks, a tear rolling down your cheek, “-I’m on my way to the airport right now…I just wanted to say bye. I walked over but you weren’t home even though I told you when I was leaving. Why are you doing this to me? I don’t understand…”

The tears were flowing down your warm face, the driver nervously looking in his rear view mirror to check on you. You hang up the phone angrily before tossing it in your purse. What once was a beautiful view and lovely drive became a cry fest and blurred by tears.

Within an hour the driver pulls up to the airport and helps you with your stuff, telling you to have a safe trip before driving off. So many couples littered the building inside, scattered off to the side either reuniting or departing, some leaving together. That should’ve been you and Joel. Ugly airport outfits and coffee in hand, laughing at the delusion that riddled your tired brains.

You plop down on the bench near your gate and pull out your book, the faeries and mortals making it seem so much better than here.

“You gonna read the whole time we’re in Michigan or?” That fucking voice.

Joel.

You practically break your neck to turn and look at him, a filthy smirk plastered on his face.

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#joel miller smut #joel miller x female oc #pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x you #chaotic-mystery #code red #the last of us #dbf!joel #dbf joel miller #enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers joel miller #pedro pascal joel miller #the last of us fanfiction #cw daddy issues #cw daddy kink #cw age gap

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hotpinkhoshi · 2 years

Note

49 FROM SMUT LIST WITH CHEOL I'M HAVING NASTY CHEOLROT OMG

pairing: seungcheol x fem reader genre: smut, fluff, established relationship prompt: "you can feel me inside of you, here put your hand on your stomach." word count: 2.3k lmaooo a drabble she says... warnings: cheol is kinda pervy, bulge kink, unprotected sex, fingering u know the usual a/n: WELL THIS GOT AWAY FROM ME ENJOY also sorry it took so long i hope the cheolrot is still going strong so you can enjoy this

an innocent movie night with seungcheol was never just an innocent movie night.

at first you'd been mildly annoyed - you'd been excited to watch the new thor installment now that you could finally watch it with your boyfriend. it was hard to pay attention when he was grazing his fingers along the bare skin of your shoulder with one hand, playing with the hem of your skirt with the other.

"pay attention to the movie," you chided after the first twenty minutes.

seungcheol only huffed out a laugh, turning to kiss your neck. "i can't. you're too distracting."

you pulled back, furrowing your eyebrows. "i'm distracting? you're the one trying to slip your hand up my skirt!"

"well, why'd you have to wear a skirt anyway? hmmm?" he retorted.

you sputtered in response, rolling your eyes and nudging him away playfully. "it's hot outside and i thought you could behave and watch the movie that we both waited months to see! silly me."

seungcheol was only amused by your reply, not at all put off by your half-hearted shoves. he tipped his head back in a laugh, tugging you closer to him on the couch before pressing his face into your shoulder.

"you're so cute when you're annoyed. also, name one time i've behaved when you're in one of these short little skirts?"

well, he had a point there, now that you thought about it. there was definitely a correlation. but you hadn't worn this skirt - which wasn't even that short - with the intention of getting felt up during the movie. you'd hoped maybe he'd wait until after.

"okay, you might be right," you conceded.

that was all it took before seungcheol was reaching for the remote to stop the movie, tugging you onto his lap easily with one hand. you were like putty for him, but you didn't mind.

it wasn't like his soft touches during the movie or just his mere presence wasn't enough to have you halfway turned on already, anyway.

he'd only been back from tour for a week or two and you'd already fucked in every room of your apartment at least twice - and yet, you were insatiable. you couldn't get enough of his hands, his lips, or his skin on yours.

"c'mere, get this off," he murmured, easily tugging your top off and tossing it across the room. "god damnit. lace? and you're still gonna pretend like you didn't want me to fuck you instead of watch the movie?"

you blushed as seungcheol's eyes admired the intricate red laced design of your bralette, one of the many lingerie purchases you'd made while he was gone, because he was always a sucker for silk and lace and garters only he was allowed to rip off of you.

it was sort of like a coping mechanism every time you came upon videos of him enjoying himself on tour and you felt a bit of an emptiness in your heart - you'd log online and shop around for a new bra and panty set or a sheer slip that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

so far, cheol had barely even scratched the surface of your new, expanded collection.

"you like it?" you asked, slipping your fingers through his hair and grazing your fingernails along his scalp. "i'd show you the matching panties, but i'm not wearing any."

you watched as seungcheol's expression shifted from one of awe to the one that meant danger for you. a cocky smirk, his tongue pressing into his cheek as his eyes roamed your body.

"so fucking naughty," he said, shaking his head. "you act so sweet but here you are sitting next to me, no panties, pretending like you don't want me to flip you over and fuck you until you can't even remember your own name."

with each word, his hands roamed from your waist up the curve of your torso, thumbs only grazing the fabric over your nipples until both hands cupped each side of your neck. you felt your breath catch in your throat, all senses heightened as warmth spread through your belly.

"naughty for you," you whispered. "only you."

seungcheol's eyes filled with desire, his jaw working and chest puffing up only slightly at the reminder that you were his. it got him every time, satisfying that possessive side that you had no problem feeding into.

"that's right," he said through his teeth, pulling you so close his nose brushed yours. "gonna make sure you never forget it."

even though you were slightly elevated over him at this angle on his lap, he didn't let you forget he was the one with the power. one hand still on your throat, he trailed the other all the way down your body until it nestled between your thighs.

you whimpered as he made contact with your center, his thick fingers wasting no time dipping into your entrance to feel just how wet you'd gotten for him. he wasn't feeling gentle today, but you didn't mind. you liked it either way.

"undo my jeans," he told you, his words just barely penetrating the fog of arousal once he'd eased one finger inside of you.

you followed his orders quickly, hands finding his belt and fumbling to unfasten the metal. it was a little hard to focus, considering the slow pace he'd began between your legs, but after a minute you managed to get his belt undone and his jeans opened.

"that's a good girl," he muttered, rewarding you with a ghost of a kiss against your lips. "knew you could be good for me."

"cheol," you whispered, your hands reaching for the waistband of his briefs. you knew better than to slide your fingers inside, but you had to at least feel him, thick and hard through the fabric. "want you. no, need you."

seungcheol kept his hold on you, forehead now pressed against yours as he shook his head ever so slightly. "you're too tight, baby. gotta stretch you out if you're gonna take me."

"i can take it," you whined, hips shifting impatiently. "please, let me try."

he was clearly amused with your protests, not even a little bit swayed. it wasn't often that he changed his mind, but you thought it was worth a shot.

"you're squeezing around one finger, but you think you can take this?" he asked, hips lifting up so his cock pressed more firmly into your hand. "c'mon, you know better."

your bottom lip jutted out in a pout which only made your boyfriend grin, despite how absolutely frustrated you were after only a few minutes of teasing. he did, however, add a second finger with his next stroke, completely cutting off any coherent thought you'd been forming.

"that feel good, sweetheart?" he asked, knowing full well you wouldn't be able to form a response. "you're getting so wet. fucking soaking my jeans."

you moaned, lips forming a retort but getting lost in a moan once his thumb started pressing circles into your clit. it didn't help he was curling his fingers with each upstroke, bumping dangerously against your g-spot.

if he kept it up, it wouldn't be long until you were pushed over the edge just from his fingers.

"ch-cheol," you managed, forcing your eyes open so that you could look at your boyfriend. "don't wanna... cum like - like this."

as much as he liked to hold up the illusion of control, seungcheol wasn't about to force you to cum when you didn't want to or make you hold back an orgasm for his own selfish desires. there was a time and place for denial, and honestly, he rarely had the self control for that anyway.

"okay, baby." he told you, pressing a sweet kiss to your jaw. "got carried away a little, didn't i?"

you only hummed in response, shoulders sagging with relief when he slipped his fingers out of you and you felt your impending orgasm finally retreat. at least it bought you a few minutes and you could cum on his cock instead of his fingers.

"open," seungcheol said simply, hardly giving you a moment to prepare before he was shoving his two fingers into your mouth, making you taste yourself on his digits.

you were so taken off guard (and really, you shouldn't have been - he loved to make you lick yourself off his fingers while he watched) that you hardly noticed his other hand dropping from your neck to free his cock from his briefs. he gave himself a few strokes before lining up with your entrance.

almost subconsciously, you lowered your hips to meet him halfway, finally feeling his impressive length and girth bottoming out in one go. seungcheol groaned, muttering something undoubtedly filthy under his breath that you couldn't catch.

your mouth dropped open in a loud moan and his fingers dragged down your lower lip, trailing your saliva down your chin and neck messily. both of his hands settled on your hips, pushing your skirt up so that he could appreciate the sight of his cock filling you up.

you, on the other hand, were already seeing stars, feeling every single inch stretching you out deliciously. this was why you'd wanted to cum around him. it couldn't compare to his fingers, no matter how precisely he could hit your g-spot like that.

no, this was much, much better.

"cheol," you reached for him, hands gripping onto his shoulders to ground you back to earth. "feels so good. won't last long."

as his eyes lifted back up to your face, he couldn't help the arrogant smirk that formed on his lips. it really did get him every time, knowing you were this far gone for him already, only him.

"c'mon sweetheart, can you move your hips for me? yeah, just like that," he praised once you began a slow grind, no doubt feeling his cock deeper than ever. "good girl, just roll them like that, nice and easy."

tears rimmed your eyes from the sheer pleasure, so overwhelmed by how perfectly seungcheol filled you. it was like a new sensation every time, no matter how many times he'd had you falling apart for him just like this.

"s-so good. can feel you so deep like this." you wanted to close your eyes but you didn't want to stop looking at him. you didn't want to miss the way his brows furrowed with pleasure, head tilted back against the couch cushion, eyes scanning down your body.

"fuck. baby, you can feel me inside of you. here, put your hand on your stomach," seungcheol said, voice gravelly as he reached for one of your hands.

pressing it down onto your lower stomach, your eyes widened once you realized you could feel his cock bulging against you from the inside. seungcheol couldn't take his eyes off it now and now it was all you could do not to cum right there.

with this position and the way you were grinding your hips forward and back, it was like you were constantly full and with each rotation, you felt his tip hitting your spot every damn time.

"cheol, cheol," you could only say his name at first, struggling with the words. "i'm close, oh god, baby..."

seungcheol finally tore his eyes away from the sight of himself inside of you, grabbing your hips and helping you along in your grind and increasing the pace just slightly.

"be a good girl and let go for me, yeah? cum all over my cock, so i can fill you up so good. wanna feel you cum first, hm?"

his words were enough to push you closer and closer to that precipice, at this point he was in complete control of your hips as you'd lost yourself to the pleasure and could only hold onto him weakly.

the hand on your stomach slipped down between your legs, knowing you needed just that little bit more to finally reach your high. the moment your fingers circled your clit the first time, you gasped, your orgasm washing over you in powerful waves.

just barely, you registered seungcheol's groan, his own orgasm only extending yours even further as you felt the warm pulses of his release. your body bent over his, arms snaking around his neck as your entire body shook with each pulse of pleasure.

"that's my girl, oh fuck, so so good. feels like heaven, you have no idea," you heard seungcheol mutter into your hair as you curled around him, your walls still pulsing with the aftershocks.

it took quite a while for your body to return to earth as seungcheol ran soothing hands along your back and pressed kisses into your neck, despite the thin layer of sweat you could feel on your skin there.

"can't move," you whispered, fully relaxed against your boyfriend. "no energy. must be carried."

seungcheol snorted next to your ear. "fuck that. i don't even think i can stand up yet. we might just have to stay here forever."

you scrunched your nose, finally sitting up to face him. "that's disgusting. we need to shower."

"okay, fine. just give me a minute," cheol agreed, gently lifting you from his lap to the cushion on the other side of him and pulling his briefs back up.

while he did up his jeans again, you had enough feeling in your lower limbs to stand from the couch, adjusting your bra and skirt.

when you turned back to see if he was finished, you realized cheol had lifted up the back of your skirt with one finger, admiring the view of your bare ass, a smirk turning up one side of his lips. "hey! stop that."

"literally cannot help it, baby," he told you with a laugh, unable to resist a quick but gentle slap to your backside. "agh!" he responded once you swatted back at him.

"and this is why we couldn't even watch one movie. all your fault!" you said, snatching your shirt up from the floor.

seungcheol laughed as he followed you back to the bathroom, wrapping his arms around your waist so that you were forced to waddle, giggling as he blew a raspberry into your neck.

"hey, we can try again after we shower."

you scoffed. "are you going to behave this time?"

"i make no promises."

#seventeen smut #choi seungcheol smut #scoups smut #seventeen imagine #seungcheol smut #scoups imagine #seungcheol imagine #svt imagine #svt smut #writing

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jesuschristmattyhealy · 1 year

Text

bleak midwinter

(this is the first thing I've written in ages pls pls be nice! Also, I know that it is neither cold nor snowing in London right now but I simply don't care!! this is literally just domestic cuteness because that is what I have brain power for <333 goodnight)

It’s biting cold. So cold they’ve said on the news that the dogs shouldn’t go out for any longer than it takes them to pee. So cold that your dad is texting you from home that you should buy a space heater for the basement so the pipes don’t freeze.

“Tell your dad if I’m buying a space heater it’s to shove up my own arse so I don’t turn into an icicle in my own living room.” Matty enters the room as you read him the message, clutching a blanket shawl around his bare shoulders.

“Have you thought about starting with a shirt, sunshine?” You ask, tugging the fleece fabric tighter to his chest.

“I did, but then I thought you’d rather stare at my ripped man muscles all day,” He jokes, flexing under the blanket. His hair is unbrushed and falling in competing angles across his face.

“Ugh, you know me so well,” you laugh, pinching his arms, “Thank God for my big strong man and his big strong man muscles.”

His voice deepens to a grunt, “Big strong man hunt mammoth throw spear light fire.”

“Yeah, could you actually? It’s worse than the North Pole in here.”

“Should we walk the boys first? That way we don’t yunno… burn the house down.”

“We’re ignoring the weathermen’s advisory?” You ask, waving your phone screen at his face to reiterate.

He sighs, “Okay, well then you get to tell them that they’re only allowed out for five seconds and deal with them looking at you like you ran over their friend for the rest of the day.”

As if on cue, Mayhem and Allan lumber into the kitchen, jowls quivering at the prospect of the word “out.” Ever since you moved in with Matt, the dogs have become as much yours as they are his. Matty swears they love you more than him. And it’s true. You can’t resist their droopy faces and old man frowns.

“Okay, fine,” you relent, huffing, “But they have to wear their blankets and their boots and possibly even a scarf.”

“Right, that can be sorted.”

He runs off upstairs to pull on something for the blustery weather while you root through the baskets by the front door to find the dogs’ blankets and winter boots. Matty made relentless fun of you for buying them, saying that no way would it ever get cold enough in London for them to use them. And then he’d seen the awkward, baby giraffe prance the two creatures did when the boots went on. He was so entertained he began searching for excuses to put them on.

You pull each dog into your lap, cooing apologies and encouragement at their stiff limbs and whale eyes.

“You’re going to look so handsome in your boots!” You remind them, to no avail, “All your neighborhood friends will be so jealous.”

Neither animal seems convinced. Next are the blankets: green for Mayhem, red for Allan. You scrounge up a couple of crochet neck warmers you made back during lockdown that have become the dogs’ (your first designs were too rudimentary for human use). The two stand blankly in the entryway, staring up at you, a pair of disheveled and disdainful babushkas.

“Right love, I brought you an extra jumper because that one’s not nearly warm enough, and I think you should wear these.” Matty rounds the corner, fully dressed now and very much resembling Joey Tribiani a la “The One Where No One is Ready.” He’s holding the sweater of his that you love to steal, and a pair of NorthFace snow pants that you haven’t touched since going home to visit your parents last Christmas.

“Wearing enough clothes there, gorgeous?” You pull lightly at his two turtlenecks.

“Time will tell, darling,” he quips, pulling a balaclava over his unruly curls, “Get your pants on then, would you.”

“I’m going to look like a stuffed turkey in these,” you protest.

He looks at you, “Love, we’re the only ones dumb enough to be outside right now, who are you worried about seeing you?” You purse your lips which he takes as invitation to steal a kiss, “C’mon, you’ll be the cutest stuffed turkey on the block.”

You pull the snowpants on in a rustle of movement and fabric. He turns to the dogs who are still frozen in position by the door, unwilling to move a toe in their boots.

“And who are these dashing gentlemen!?” Matty coos, rushing over to the dogs to tug gently at their ears, “Are you boys ready?”

You love the voice he uses for the dogs, a high pitched, horse squeak that seems so uncharacteristic coming from a man who dresses in leather and cowboy boots on the daily. In the morning, while he’s feeding them before coming back to bed, you’ll lie awake and listen to the monologue running in the kitchen — asking if the doggies had sweet dreams, asking why Allan was whimpering in the middle of the night, asking where they should go walking today, quipping “the usual boys?” as he sets the dishes down.

“They were born ready!” You say, straightening up from pulling on your fleece lined boots.

“Right, then let’s go!”

You open the door and the wind hits your little group like a cement wall. Within the first five seconds of exposure, your eyes are watering and your nose is dripping ferociously. Over the howling gusts, you can hear your boyfriend’s indignant complaints.

“This is by far the most ridiculous idea we’ve ever had, I mean what are we doing, it’s literally cold enough to castrate me.”

“Okay, okay,” you gasp, “We’re walking two blocks and turning around.”

“And then is it Virgin River time?”

“Virgin River and fire time, very much so.”

“That’s all you had to say.”

And he’s off, pulling Allan down the stairs and through the front gate. You and Mayhem can only stiffly follow in their footsteps, Mayhem taking each step as if stepping down into the Grand Canyon. Allan has stopped to pee on a tree and Matty is hoping up and down next to him.

“I didn’t wear enough clothes,” he moans as you get closer to him.

“Oh, poor man,” you pout, looping your arms and running a mittened hand up and down his bicep, “Is this helping?”

He closes his eyes, scrunching his nose dramatically, “Emotionally yes, physically, not really.”

“Oh dear, well let’s keep it moving,” you stick your hand in the jacket of his puffy coat and find his, “We’ll think warm thoughts.”

He nods, “Sahara Desert, I am in the Sahara Desert and it is so hot.”

The four of you walk as quickly as you can down the sidewalk. In a way, the silence of the cold is sort of pretty. It hasn’t snowed in a while and the remaining piles of snow are frozen into the concrete, glittering menacingly in the steely sunshine. There are rarely cabs or cars in your neighborhood, but today there isn’t even one. You can hear the window panes rattling in your neighbors' homes. You understand what they’re singing about in “In the Bleak Midwinter,” that silent frost that hangs over your head, a threatening promise, an empty maw.

You’ve barely made it three house fronts when Matty suddenly announces,

“Right lads, have you both pissed? Can we go back?”

The dogs peer up at him as best they can from beneath their shawls. Allan does a full body shake.

“Taking that as yes,” he turns the two of you in a half moon and sets off again at a brisk pace, a horse going back to stable, “I’m going to drink so much tea when we get back, you’re not even going to believe it.”

“I’ll join you in that,” you mutter, tucking your chin further into your favorite wool scarf.

You tumble back through the front door, a cascade of static electricity and shivering limbs. Matty hurries off in one direction to start the fire, and you in the other to turn the kettle on. You’re rolling the sleeves of his sweater up and over your hands and debating turning the oven on just so you can stick your freezing hands in when you feel a pair of hands on your shoulder.

“How’s it coming?” Matty mutters in your ear.

“It’s not going half as fast as I need it to,” your teeth chatter around the words, a full body shiver pulsing through your body.

“You know what they say about watched pots.”

“I know, but I don’t know where else to look.”

“How about at me?” He asks with a hint of indignation.

“Oh, okay,” you giggle as he spins you around so that your hands can loop behind his neck. His curls are rough from the cold and goosebumps rise across his rosy skin.

“Let’s never go back outside,” he mutters, burying his face in your neck. His hands wind themselves in the excess fabric of your sweater, his thumbs brush the bare skin at the base of your spine.

You sigh, “But what if we need something?”

He grumbles a laugh, “I have half a Sainsbury’s worth of tea, Jack and Mel, the dogs, the fire, and you. I don’t know what else I could possibly need.”

You smile, inhaling. He smells of the wood stove, tobacco smoke and the vanilla lotion that he keeps swearing he isn’t stealing from you.

“You’re right. There's nothing else.”

#matty healy #matty healy x reader #matty healy fic #the 1975 fic #I'm genuinely so nervous to be writing again oh no #hope you enjoy !!

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