#hm. maybe I use too much chapstick | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bubblegumbayleigh · 2 years

Text

chapstick

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: steve tries to pick out a chapstick for the ever-so picky reader. things get passionate as an overwhelming memory sheds light on their true feelings.

word count: [2.2k]

cw: nothing really. fluffy but spicy yearning, slightly touchy (?), long-awaited kiss, robin being a little shit hehe

an: this is the first fanfiction I've actually finished and posted so eek! super nervous. probs super messy and short so please forgive me! anyways crush to best friend to lover steve is cute,, also I've been listening to meet me in the pale moonlight so that was the mood I wrote this in. enjoy lovelies <3

“What about this one?”

You looked over your shoulder to see your best friend Steve, who had been rattling through your endless box of colourful, flavoured chapsticks for the past hour, splayed out on your bed.

He was entirely determined to find the perfect flavour for you before you two had to leave to see the gang for a movie, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed in dedication whilst the plastic clatter filled the room all afternoon. He was nowhere near giving up, despite the ache of his elbows digging into your mattress and the frustration of your instant dismissal of his every suggestion.

That was until he found one he recognised a few moments prior. Now his expression was full of gratification, holding the small pink tube to your face, rolling it between his finger and thumb. It read “strawberries and cream” along its length, and the cap was visibly loose from its frequent use. Your expression softened and a smile adorned your blushing face.

“I haven’t used that since like, sixth grade, don’t remind me”, you turned back to your vanity mirror, continuing to brush your hair, glancing at him in its reflection ever so often. A part of you hoped he would have remembered the little plastic tube, but why would retired king Steve Harrington remember what was smudged on your lips years ago, anyway? It’s not like you spent every day applying that specific chapstick just for him, knowing it was his favourite as you overheard from a passing conversation.

Younger you was… impossibly desperate for his attention; you struggled with the thought that maybe that urge never truly left.

This time, you didn’t hear the disheartened drop of the chapstick back into the box as he had done a million times before, instead, a pop of the lid shot your head back around to face him again. He had pressed the tip to his lips, dragging it carefully along the top and then down to the bottom, applying more pressure as the chapstick threatened to run out. It may have also been fueled by your eyes fixated on his movements, a smirk curving the edge of his mouth upwards.

Followed by a smack of his lips, you were out of your trance; they looked even softer, pinker. More delicate and plush than ever before, if that was possible.

“Seventh.”

“Hm?” You bit your lips and looked back up to meet his gaze in a frenzy. Maybe it was to suppress anything idiotic which would have spilt out of you in response, or just to relieve yourself of the ache which throbbed within you.

You plopped down next to him, facing the ceiling. It still made you nervous to be so close. The impact made Steve’s entire body spring slightly off the mattress, his hair flopping over his eyes. He lifted his palm to swoop the hair back, then settled it down above himself.

“It wasn’t sixth grade, it was seventh.” Steve replaced the lid with a snap and plopped backwards, legs dangling off your fluffy pink bed with his much larger body, a sigh of defeat escaping through his smile. “I remember noticing something different about you, then the missing shape of the chapstick in your left pocket..”

“But worst of all, I could never smell strawberries whenever you were close enough to me. It was comforting, y’know? Like, even if I closed my eyes, I knew you were there.”

“You paid attention to that?” You fiddled with the hem of your dress, too nervous to turn and look him in his eyes.

“It’s embarrassing, I know. We weren’t even that close back then and all.” Steve was equally as nervous to look back at you, he felt like his words were bubbling out of his mouth, frothing, and he just couldn’t stop it. He was scared, and even more anxious to admit that to himself.

What made it so much worse was the feeling of your dress brushing along his arms, barely even touching him; thoughts of the same fabric covering your bare skin.

“No.” You mewled. “I don’t think it’s embarrassing at all.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

A few seconds of dead silence passed, a strenuous effort from both of you. It felt more like an hour, more thoughts circulating around your brain than what the average person should endure.

Although you spoke last, you could feel another sentence approaching your lips, but a blunt ache filled your throat like stacks of cotton balls.

Steve spoke first, as if it was a custom.

“Why did you stop wearing it?”

You feared this question would arise eventually. It wasn’t like you could just say that you lost feelings for him because, in all honesty, you didn’t. You never did, you just tried to make yourself believe it after seeing Steve’s hundredth new girlfriend of the week. It made you sick. He was just so much different from who he is now. You can’t remember a single girl he dated in the past year despite his incessant popularity, which is a drastically different track record from his earlier years.

“I guess I just got bored of it. Peach became more my style, it brings in the ladies. You would know, Harrington.” You scoffed and nudged him with your elbow in an attempt to hide the crack in your voice. You thought maybe lightening the conversation would help, but the almost mute giggles you both gave provided no comfort.

If anything, it made the conversation tenser, and you could feel both of you were mere seconds away from snapping. It had never been this tense with your best friend before, although you could sense it building over the past few days. Hands brushing over thighs, chests grazing past backs, fingertips on waists.

You thought you only imagined it, but it was clear as day that Steve felt the same now, too. It was, different.

Steve finally rolled onto his side, elbow propping him up to let him look into your eyes. You could see his lip quiver in anticipation of speaking again, the smile from earlier dropping slowly from his face as the cogs were turning in his brain.

“Could you, maybe, wear it again?”

He whispered. It was only now that you noticed the glimmer of desperation and want in his eyes, resembling that of a puppy.

“Er,” You gulped from the heat of the sudden attention. “Well, yeah. I could.”

His expression softened as if he was expecting a different answer, but he was entirely relieved at your reply. He handed you the chapstick, and the pattern of his breathing became quiet as if he was holding it in an effort to not make noise. Taking it, you popped the lid once more.

To your shock, the tube was near to empty. After using a generous amount each day for years, you were surprised there was anything left for Steve to use. Despite this, you just couldn’t bear seeing the craving expression embellish his features.

“Empty.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I should have used less.”

Your voices barely reached a whisper. The moment felt intimate, the eye contact was unbreakable, but didn’t feel forced or awkward. However, your nerves were increasingly creeping up, engulfing your cheeks in soft blush and sending a tingle of adrenaline up your spine.

His face was closer now, body attempting to glance over into the chapstick, but his eyes wouldn’t budge from yours. You realised what he meant now, the smell of the strawberry; it was entrancing. Whether that was the chapstick or the fact his lips were centimetres away from your face made your eyebrows knit in thought.

Suddenly, a stupid thought flooded everything else.

“That's okay. There’s still some left.”

The puzzled expression on Steve’s face only drove you over the edge, rolling your entire body weight on top of him, pinning him below you as you straddled his lap.

You never realised how gorgeous he looked laid against your pillows, although he would laze about your bed regularly. But his hands were thrown up at his sides as if he was under arrest, hesitating around your waist. His eyes didn’t have the same desperate twinkle they had seconds before, and you could no longer grasp a sense of his thoughts.

A deep sensation of embarrassment and regret set in you; how you completely misread the situation will never be lived down, if you even stayed friends after this. All you could do was hope you would both laugh it off, move on, and forget this ever happened. In a sudden movement, you tried to push yourself back onto your knees and lift yourself from his lap.

“Shit. Steve, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

There was a grip around your thighs and a gasp escaped your lips. His hands no longer hovered over you, the tips of his fingers digging into the flesh directly under your ass with an eager desperation. His eyes filled again with the sparkle from before, chest rising up and down steadily as he scanned over your features.

“No, i-it’s okay.”

It was his turn to be shy, his grip on you becoming softer as he started to regret his unexpected touches. Still, his hands remained on your thighs, guiding your body back down onto him; relaxing your tensed-up muscles with gentle drags of his thumb. A low grunt escaped him as your weight pressed down onto his crotch, breathing heavier than before.

The look from before wasn’t fright or disgust, but the sheer fear of messing up the moment he had anticipated for so long, nerves shaking his fingertips. He was burning to touch you for weeks now. Not that he wasn’t this impatient years prior, but the yearning feeling near-drove him to insanity at this point. Your beauty, your scent, your innocent touches and glances. Naturally, he couldn’t help but fantasize about your taste.

“Y-you said there’s-” He paused to take a breath, trying to calculate your next move. “Said there’s-- more?”

The realization hit you as you remembered what got you here in the first place, words hitching in your throat.

“Yeah I mean, I-”

“Show me.”

That was all you needed to slam your lips down onto his, all of the remaining tensions snapping at lightning speeds. As cliché as it was, it felt like fireworks exploding all over your body, a bright flash and ringing in your ears as everything seemed so much grander than before.

All of your senses were melting, your thoughts ablaze. You could feel Steve whine into the kiss as he breathed out his nose in relief, his shaking hands running up your thighs, lightly brushing up your skirt, past your hips and onto your waist. One hand trailed further up, slipping past your jaw to lightly caress your cheek and deepen the kiss, tilting your head slightly to the right.

As confident as he tried to appear, Steve was about to break. He thought maybe a kiss would soothe the burn, but if anything, it only fueled the heat to twice the size. It was never like this, with anyone else, ever. He realised a couple of months back that he in fact did not want anyone else.

Ever.

He wanted you, nobody else but you.

You could feel Steve getting restless, his fidgety hands squeezing you slightly harder than before, his tongue threatening to slip past your lips any second. He was too bashful and nervous to push through, but the need was most definitely there.

A crunching sound of tires arriving at your house knocked you both back to consciousness. You pulled back to see Steve’s kiss-drunk expression, his hair messy, eyes glossy and low, blush spilling over his nose to both cheeks to match his lips. It was a sight you would give anything to see again.

“Movie” He barely muttered, keeping his eyes on yours to signal how keen he was to keep you right where you were. He refused to admit he knew you both had to go. Gently, he brought your face back down to his with both hands and kissed you again, softly.

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

“Jeez, only honked like, thirty times? Where were you?” Eddie slammed his hands down onto the wheel as you both emerged from your house, trying to seem as normal as possible.

As you turned to lock the door behind you, Steve noticed your dress clinging to where he pushed it up before. He quickly pulled it back down with a swift move of his hand, an exchanged look of panic and a nervous laugh buffering the silence after Eddie’s question.

You slipped into the front as Steve slipped to the back next to Robin, who had an undeniable smirk on her face.

“Sorry, makeup dilemma. Right, Stevie?” You brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, smoothing your dress down and resting your hands into your lap, seemingly as innocent as ever.

Eddie did nothing but sigh, starting the car with a roll of his eyes and a bite of his lower lip. The great thing about Eddie was that he was almost always completely oblivious to the things happening around him, including this.

“You will be. You too Harrington.” He shot a look back to Steve who rolled his eyes and kept his usual dorky expression. You almost couldn’t believe how smoothly you both pulled that off.

“So” Robin scoffed. Your heart dropped.

“Since when do you wear pink chapstick, Stevie?”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #stranger things #stranger things x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x y/n #steve x reader #harrington x reader #robin buckley #eddie munson

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sleeplessgreaser · 8 months

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Chapped Lips and Chewed Fingertips

pairing: Johnny x Dally word count: 1,103 warnings: mentions of blood and bruises

Original: #1 Johnny has a terrible habit of picking at his chapped lips and fingernails, and Dally has put it upon himself to Make Him Quit It - this has led to him having to pay more attention to Johnny's hands and lips and sometimes he just can't help but to zone out while staring at them.

Johnny always had chapped lips. He either spent too much time outside or didn't drink enough water (or maybe it was both). The problem, though, wasn't that they were chapped, it was that Johnny would pick at them. He told Dally that it was just a bad habit, and he couldn't help it. Sometimes he picked at a specific spot that was bugging him, a crack that was just raised enough to be annoying, and other times he did it without thinking. It was because of his nerves really.

Dally hadn't really paid it much attention until after they got together. Before then he'd only ever noticed it when they'd share a cigarette, and Johnny would pass it back with a fresh blot of red on the filter. Now though, it bothered him. Johnny's lips were pretty when they weren't all dry and cracked, sometimes they'd even be soft; that is if Dal harped on him about using chapstick for a week straight.

"Doesn't it bother you?" He'd asked him. "Don't they hurt?"

"Hm?" Johnny looked at him with that innocent expression, the one he never knew he was making.

"Your lips," Dally said, reaching forward to run a thumb over them. "Don't they hurt?"

"Naw, usually I can't really tell. If anything my fingers hurt more," he said lightheartedly as he looked down at his hands.

When Johnny wasn't picking at his lips he was biting at his nails. They were always gnawed short, and when he didn't have enough nail to bite at he opted to chew at the skin there instead. The skin at the corners of his fingernails was usually raw from where his teeth had ripped and tugged at it. Sometimes he'd even manage to give himself hangnails because of it, and then his fingers would sting for a week.

Dally held Johnny's hand, his fingers grazing over his knuckles as he examined them. Johnny watched him do this, as if he couldn't understand what was wrong with these habits of his.

"It ain't that bad, 's not like I'm really hurtin' myself, " Johnny said with a laugh. "Hell, you know smokin' is worse anyways."

Dally smiled when he looked back up at him. It annoyed him that Johnny couldn't help but "ruin" some of the most beautiful parts of his body - his sweet lips and delicate fingers - but glory, was it hard to stay mad at him.

After that Dally had decided to make it his job to get Johnny to quit. He'd make Johnny use his chapstick whenever he "forgot" to bring his own, he'd offer him a weed if he started absently chewing on his bottom lip, and he'd pay close attention whenever Johnny's hands even got close to his mouth. Of course they weren't together every second of the day so Johnny's habits persisted whenever Dally wasn't around, but over time they at least got a little better.

He had spent a lot of time staring at Johnny's fingers and involuntarily memorizing every imperfection and freckle that decorated the backs of his hands. One night they got high and Johnny let him map out the freckles on his hands and arms with a pen, and then they made up stupid names for the "constellations" he created. When Johnny convinced Dally to let him do the same on his arms he immediately found a way to draw a penis using Dal's much more numerous freckles as connect-the-dots; which led to him playfully pulling Johnny into a head-lock. Of course later they had to spend 20 minutes at the bathroom sink, messing with each other while trying to scrub the ink off their arms.

The other thing Dally spent a lot of time doing was staring at Johnny's lips. His bottom lip would have small flecked bruises in spots Johnny just couldn't leave alone, and sometimes they'd get puffy from where he'd chew on the inside of his lip. They didn't crack too often, but when they did Dal would end up glaring at them, knowing that Johnny would only make them worse. They'd split open sometimes when they kissed but Johnny would never react to it, and Dally wouldn't notice until he'd start tasting blood.

There was one day, when they were out with the gang, Dally noticed Johnny had been chewing on his bottom lip incessantly. Every time he looked over at him he had a tooth dug into it like a staple in a stack of paper. Of course he tried not to call him out on that kind of thing in front of the others, so he waited until he could pull him aside.

"Would'ya quit that? You're gonna dig a hole into your skin," Dally said as he grabbed Johnny's jaw and pried his lip out from under his tooth. It was swollen and red, and the crack in it was clearly irritated. "The hell are you even doin', are you tryna make it worse?"

Johnny looked away with his brow furrowed, and an embarrassed blush had started to creep into his cheeks. Of course as soon as Dallas had let go of him he went back to chewing on it.

"Johnny, quit it!" Dally grabbed his chin again and held it tight, yanking it so he'd face him again.

Johnny's eyes avoided his, and Dally sighed, loosening his grip a bit.

"I ain't tryna make it worse, it just- iunno, it's just buggin' me," Johnny mumbled.

"What, does it hurt?"

"Well, yeah, but it's not- it's just-- iunno, I guess it just kinda itches? But not, like, actually. It just- it feels better when I bite it."

Dallas stared at him with a skeptical look. "Wouldn't it hurt more if you bit it?"

"Well, yeah… kinda," Johnny looked down at the ground.

"So it hurts, but it feels… good?" As soon as the words were out of his mouth Dally immediately purged the idea from his mind, knowing that if he thought about it too long he'd get stuck on it. "Well, knock it off. It ain't gonna heal right if you keep messin' with it."

"Yeah, yeah," Johnny grumbled, pulling himself out of Dally's grasp.

Sometimes, if Dally stared long enough, he'd get lost in thought looking at Johnny's lips or fingers. It was a dangerous game to play, with how often his thoughts lead him down a homoerotic rabbithole, but he couldn't help it. He had to keep a close eye on him, so that Johnny wouldn't pick or chew at them - at least, that's what he told himself: It was for Johnny's sake.

#the outsiders 1983 #dallas winston #johnny cade #jally #johnny x dally #no sleep for greasers #fanfic #drabble #ficlet #sleepless writes #the outsiders #outsiders headcanons

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totentnz · 4 months

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soft OTP: #5 for silverv?

Soft Ship Prompts

5. Write about a casual kiss between your ship. aka i decide to plague you with 400 words describing what v looks like

johnny had managed to talk v into taking the NCART today, she barely got any sleep last night and he wasn't gonna let her drive, they needed to be alive if they wanted to do that gig for el clowno later.

she was occupying two seats at once with the way she was sitting, her legs spread and arms on the backrest. he wanted to comment on how she should stop manspreading but he was too busy admiring her. she was so unapologetically comfortable in this public space and he enjoyed witnessing it.

the music blasting from her earplugs made the scene even better: sex pistols. he remembered the first time he heard his british counterpart from the stereo in her car: they were out in the badlands as few days after he woke up in her body, he could barely believe what he was hearing, after all that band was older than he was and there was no way she even knew about them. these days however it made perfect sense: if anyone was gonna listen to classic punk-rock, it was her. she had good taste in music, sometimes, and he was more than happy to fill the gaps.

she was wearing the replica samurai jacket, johnny knew she would have burned it in that damn trunk if it wasn't his. underneath it was a crop top - it used to be full sized "I ♡ NC" shirt but she cut off the collar and lower half. v had an aversion to wearing bras so her pierced nipples were visible through the fabric. he caught himself staring for a little too long so so he moved his gaze downward, to her midriff.

he wondered why she didn't have her bellybutton pierced as well, considering the amount of metal that adorned every other part of her body. she did have a tattoo on her hipbone though: a millitech m-10af lexington, it was placed there to make it look like it was stuck into her pants, it would look better if it was his malorian though, maybe he was gonna get her another present on the other side of her hip.

her pants were perhaps the best part of the getup - cargo-pants with pockets that seemed to be bottomless, stuffed with everything she needed to roll her own cigarettes and other less important things like keys and chapstick. she had sewn the pockets on herself along with multiple patches - much to his delight there was a samurai one there as well and it has been there since before he showed up. safety pins, metal studs and even nicola tabs were attached to the flaps and seams all over. of course the pants had holes, conveniently placed at her knees where the star tattoos peeked through. she was also wearing her usual big black combat boots with steel caps. johnny could tell from this outfit she didn't intend to handle this gig on the low, which he appreciated; he was itching for a good fight.

all of this fit her so well, he remembered the night he woke up in her head, she was wearing what was left of that stupid suit and he assumed that was her choice in clothes - he was glad to be proven wrong. she had character, individuality and good taste - not his type though.

v must've caught him staring as she was giving him a look now. he was sitting across from her and she was smirking at him with that damn look she always gave him when he caught her staring, which didn't happen often, really.

"why dontcha come over here, hm? get a better look?" she propped up her head on her hand, rubbing a finger over her browbone - shaving off your eyebrows was a weird choice but it looked good on her. "that ain't how it works, dickweed." he retorted but decided to pop up right in front of her anyway, grabbing his balls to provoke her. it never worked and he didn't know why he thought it would this time. she simply took in the sight, giving him a nod of approval.

perhaps it was this reaction that made him follow through with a plan he had been stewing on for some time now, a way to finally throw her off, get the reaction he wanted.

he leaned down and grabbed her face, causing her to lean forward. he could feel their heart quicken in this moment, he grinned and pressed a kiss to her lips, a proper, head tilting kiss. it lasted for longer than he expected, both in the sense that he could feel her lips for longer than a moment and that she didn't pull away from him. quite the opposite, she even slipped her tongue into his mouth. that damned split tongue of hers that always made him wonder what she could do with it. he could feel it glide along its own and it sent a shiver down their spine. eventually it was him who pulled away, looking around to see how the other passengers would say to this weirdo sticking out her tongue like this but people were unphased - this was night city, weirder shit happened every day.

he straightened up and looked down at her, of course she was so damn pleased with herself, lazily leaning back in her seat as she licked her lips.

"guessin' that one didn't go as expected." she said and pulled one earbud out. "underestimated how much of a freak ya are." he said and sat down next to her, resting his metal arm on the backrest behind her. she offered him the earbud, a pointless gesture since he could hear the music the whole time but he accepted anyway. "takes one to know one." she turned her head to him. "yeah now imagine if i had a body o' my own." he replied, raising his eyebrows flirtatiously. "i do. every day. have been this whole ride in fact."

#sammy says shit #sammy writes shit #otp; just the two of us #oc:v #you know when i started writing this i thought it was gonna be short #but then i decided i needed to let you know what v looks like lmao

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emeren · 3 years

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Mmm maybe eren walking in on the reader using a vibrator and offering to help her and over stimulating her..

you got it! here it comes :)

red handed - eren jaeger

pairing: eren jaeger x fem!reader

word count: 2.5k

content warnings: smut, 18+, masturbation, overstimulation, crying

notes: this one was fun to write, it was my first time writing about a vibrator so idk if it’s that good but i hope you all enjoy nevertheless! <3

you sighed to yourself, anxiously glancing at the clock. your roommate had informed you he wouldn’t be back until around nine; the numbers 7:30 blinking back at you expectantly. there was no way he’d be home early; eren was late to nearly everything he did.

deciding to move into a small, crappy apartment with your childhood best friend had seemed like a good idea at the time. you and eren knew each other forwards and backwards; right side up and upside down.

what you didn’t know was just how needy eren could be. he hated being bored more than anything in the world. he was always lingering, always pestering you to go do something. he would sometimes just walk into your room and stand there, asking you what you were doing and if you wanted to hangout.

most of the time you didn’t mind. most of the time. but there were instances where the lack of a lock on both your bedroom and bathroom doors became an issue.

instances where the pent up hormones became too much to bear and you had to relieve yourself, quickly and quietly.

you thanked your lucky stars that eren had decided to go out with some friends tonight. you’d finally be able to enjoy a moment of bliss for the first time in well over two weeks.

after double checking that the front door was locked and peaking your head into eren’s room to make extra sure he was gone, you skipped to your own space with an air of giddiness. finally some alone time!

you softly closed the door behind you, turning to look at your beside table. pulling the small drawer open and rifling through various pieces of junk, your eyes landed on the small, inconspicuous piece of plastic.

you’d come to realize that your hand wasn’t quick enough to combat eren’s nosey nature, and after a few near misses, you invested in your very first vibrator.

it was a light pink color; just nearly longer than your middle finger. you picked it up carefully before plunking down on your hard mattress. you shifted so your back was pressed against the head board, knees slightly bent.

you could feel yourself aching in anticipation, cold hand slipping past the hem of your pajama pants to press the plastic device against your clit. your thumb moved to click the on button, halting as you heard a floorboard creak from out in the hall.

“ugh,” you muttered to yourself, trying to quell your paranoia. “eren’s not gonna be home for at least an hour.”

you paused for a minute longer, ears straining. when you were met with just the distant sound of sirens, you allowed yourself to continue, clicking the button. the soft vibration buzzed against your nerves, breath hitching involuntarily at the sudden pleasure.

it was a wonderful feeling; your chest heaving as your lower half embraced the foreign object. you leaned your head back against the wall, shifting to a more comfortable position as you bent your knees for better leverage.

your mind began to wander, an image of eren popping into your brain. a few years ago, you would’ve cringed and banished the thought away, but you’d come to acknowledge there was no denying just how attractive your best friend was, no matter how guilty it made you feel.

you pictured his muscular back, leaned over the sink as he washed dishes with a pair of black sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his hips. you could feel your face heat, closing your eyes as the pressure within the pit of your stomach began to build.

it was easy to reach your breaking point with the vibrator; breath growing shallow as the image of eren’s muscular arms and defined v-line started to fog your mind. you exhaled out through your nose, the gentle buzzing making your clit twitch with desired release.

you were so wrapped up, so distracted. it was the single moment of bliss right before your orgasm, face hot and hands clammy.

you’d never let your mind wander so far before, but you were beginning to imagine eren touching you; letting his hands wander down your skin and caressing your curves, squeezing and-

“what’re you doing?” a voice startled you from the moment of peace, replaced by an overwhelming embarrassment as your eyes snapped open, focusing on the tall figure leaning against the open doorframe.

eren’s arms were crossed, face shadowed as he observed you. you quickly sat up, pulling your vibrator from your pants and clicking it off. the pace of your heartbeat was through the roof, eyes wide and chest tight. how fucking embarrassing!

“i’m- i was-,” you were at a loss for words, standing from your bed. your heart pinged with annoyance, the embarrassment quickly dissipating into anger. “can’t you learn to fucking knock?”

eren didn’t say anything, quirking a brow at your snippy tone. it just aggravated you more, your brain trying to combat the dopamine that never truly reached its full potential. he stood in your doorway, staring you down as you seethed in your place.

“don’t be embarrassed,” he spoke softly. his face had some unknown expression on it, one you’d never seen before. his pupils were dilated, brows furrowed and gaze serious. “it’s a normal thing to do.”

you huffed, shifting your legs in an attempt to quell the burning between your thighs. “i know that. what’s not normal is you barging into my room without knocking when you weren’t even supposed to be home for another hour.”

“i got bored, so i decided to come home and hangout with you,” he explained. his lip was curved upwards, as if he were trying to suppress a smirk. “s’more fun here anyway.”

you frowned at his words, your mind flashing that image of his rough hands trailing down your body, squeezing. you swallowed at the thought, the anger quickly being overpowered by your unfinished arousal. “how long were you standing there?”

“long enough to know you didn’t finish,” he commented, holding eye contact as your eyebrows raised in surprise. you opened your mouth to respond, but eren beat you to it. “c’mon, i think i know you pretty well.”

“not like that,” you muttered demurely, the dull ache nearly too much to bear. you felt like you’d be antsy till you got off, shifting uncomfortably as your eyes fell to the floor. “could you- could you give me some privacy?”

eren didn’t respond for a moment, the sound of your bedroom door shutting sending a feeling of relief to your brain. you looked up, frown deepening.

eren was leaning against the closed door, eyes dark and serious. “let me help you.”

his words sent a confused throb to your cunt, face going slack. was this really happening?

“eren, you don’t mean…” you breathed out, the ache in your center multiplying tenfold at the sight of his tall and muscular figure staring down at you. shit, shit, shit!

“i do,” he responded seriously, taking a step towards you. he was normally tall and formidable, but in the darkness of your bedroom, he seemed infinite. you paused for a moment, your resolve already thin due to the incessant throbbing of your clit. eren seemed to take notice, eyeing you carefully. “who better than your best friend?”

you held your breath before responding. you’d been thinking of this, dreaming of this. now here he was, standing before you and looking at you as though you were his for the taking. and it excited you. it excited you to no end. “i- okay.”

eren was quick to smile, stepping up to you. you craned your neck to look at him, heartbeat erratic as his calloused hands ran down your bare arms. he slowly lowered himself to his knees before you, fingers hooking under the waistband of your pajamas.

his teal eyes glanced up to you, asking for permission. you were afraid your voice wouldn’t work, instead feverishly nodding your head in acceptance. he pulled your pants down tantalizingly slow; like he was unwrapping some sacred gift.

you bit your lip as your thighs became exposed, the feeling of eren’s hot breath fanning across the newly exposed skin. he leaned forward, eyes still locked with yours as he placed a kiss to the soft flesh, lips slicked with chapstick. it was sinful and he knew it.

your cotton pants dropped to the floor, standing in nothing but your underwear and a t-shirt. eren’s gaze grew heavy on your panties - the inevitable wet spot showing just how desperate you were for attention.

“trying to finish before i got home?” he cooed, curling his lip. you felt your face heat, glancing away.

“yeah,” you responded bashfully, eren motioning his head towards the bed.

he breathed out a laugh at your answer, giving your thigh that deeply desired squeeze. “that’s so cute. bet you’re so needy for me now, hm?”

you could feel yourself growing wetter at his words, choosing to sit on the end of the bed in front of him rather than respond. he kissed your leg again, eyes catching on something beside you.

“what’s this?” he smirked, reaching to grab your vibrator. you were too slow to react, reaching for it in vain as eren inspected it. “tsk, tsk. sit back down.”

you hadn’t even realized you’d lifted from the mattress, eren’s dark tone making you abide as though you had no free will.

he gave you a sadistic look, lunging forward to press his tongue flat against your clothed clit. you hissed at the feeling, hands fisting your bed sheets. eren chuckled against you, the vibration making your stomach burn.

“just that already has you squirming?” he mumbled, lips pressing a kiss. as if this couldn’t get anymore embarrassing. “’s’hot.”

you breathed out, the sight of eren between your legs in the lowly lit room entirely too attractive. you weren’t surprised he was so bossy and vocal, hand tapping your leg impatiently.

“off.” he deadpanned, leaning back to watch you as you stood, yanking your underwear down your legs. you tried to quell your excitement; eren’s pupils growing impossibly larger at the sight of your exposed cunt. you sat back down, breath shaky as eren situated himself in front of you. “so wet already.”

eren, just as he always had been, was impatient. you’d just sat down and he was prying your knees apart, tongue hungrily pressing itself against your center. he was sloppy; eating you out with an animalistic hunger that had you nearing your climax much faster than usual.

“eren,” you whimpered, the feeling of his tongue circling your entrance causing a moan to ripple from your mouth. the sound of his name only made him suck harder. he wasn’t letting up; absolutely determined to bring you to your high as fast as possible. “m’gonna cum, eren.”

he groaned at your words, arms hooking around your thighs to hold you in place as he focused intently on your clit. the warm, wet feeling was becoming too much; edges of your vision growing dark as you let your release come crashing down, legs twitching as eren released his suction on you.

he looked at you just long enough for you to notice the sheen on his chin, the sparkle in his eyes, and the grin on his lips. “been waiting so long for this, i’m gonna make the best of it.”

your chest was heaving, brows pulled down in confusion as eren brought his first two fingers to your entrance, circling it twice before stuffing you with his long digits.

you were burning, just having come down from your embarrassingly quick release only to have eren fucking you with his fingers. they easily slid in and out, wet with your sheen as he began to gently suck on your inner thigh. your vision was hazy, eren pushing his digits in to the last knuckle and curling slightly.

the feeling of another release was building in your core; churning and readying you to succumb to eren’s will once more. and you were ready; a breathy moan leaving your lips as he angled his fingers particularly deep. you laid down, hands subconsciously lifting to grope your own chest - searching for an anchor.

“shit,” eren swore at the sight of you palming your breasts, squirming in his hold as his fingers pumped in and out of you, quickening his pace. you whimpered in response, screwing your eyes shut.

you felt the cold object press against your clit before he turned it on; eyes widening in surprise as you shot up. eren was grinning at you, thumb clicking it on as an involuntary cry ripped from your chest.

the vibration was too much as his digits abused your cunt, stuffing into you as far as possible. your clit twitched aggressively, face and neck hot. your brain was growing fuzzy, thoughts clouded as you stared down at eren, mouth hanging open and eyes glossy. he was watching you seriously, pressing the vibrator harder against your clit in order to make you jolt.

you were burning, abdomen flexing as your eyes began to water. the sensations were too much, legs trying to close but you were blocked by eren’s broad shoulders.

you’d never been one to scream, but you couldn’t help the strangled sound that escaped your mouth as eren included his tongue in the overstimulating mix. hot, sticky tears slid down your cheeks, eren’s tongue lapping at the spot where his fingers disappeared inside of you.

his eye contact. oh, his eye contact. it was pervasive and inspective, analyzing every sound and movement you made.

he pulled his tongue back for just a moment, the vibrator buzzing intensely against you. “cum for me.”

and you did. it was too much; your legs jerking and stomach cramping, mind turned to mush at the overflow of dopamine. you collapsed back on the bed, eren leaving the vibrator pressed against your clit for a moment longer, the feeling now more uncomfortable than anything. you waved your hand, too exhausted to beg him to take it off. eren only chuckled, pulling his fingers from you but pressing the object against you harder.

“let me see those tears,” he said sweetly, tapping your thigh. it was a sinister sweetness, the tears pooling down your face as you began to grown numb below your waist. you forced yourself to sit up, eren smiling as he saw your wet face. “good girl.”

he removed the vibrator, tossing it on the bed as he stood. you laid back down, breathing heavy and legs weak. eren hovered above you, leaning down to wipe your cheeks.

“next time, just ask for my help,” he sneered, your eyes rolling weakly. he had a boyish grin on his face, something teasing about his nature. “i’m way better than some stupid vibrator, anyway.”

<3 <3 <3

#emmy writes #eren jaeger #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren jeager #eren jeager x reader #eren jeager smut #eren yeager #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager smut #eren yaeger #eren yaeger x reader #eren yaeger smut #eren jäger #eren smut

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1kook · 4 years

Text

youtube & use lube

part 7 of my netflix and chill collection!

summary: You can’t believe this is Jungkook’s preferred sick day treatment; YouTube, cuddles, and an ugly amount of lube. warnings: smut in the forms of nipple play, handjobs, spit kink, face riding, unprotected, flavored warming lube, riding, praise kink, soft femdom, missionary bc his eyes are pretty, tit sucking, more jk has an impreg kink, oh and this is all subby kook rating: mature (18+) miscellaneous: domesticity baby!! fluff, soft scenes /.\, jk is sick:((, doyeon is A Doctor, yn sees an opportunity and she grabs it, surprise ending <3 word count: 8.7k

notes: finally…. 7 parts later and we get ~✨💓sub kook💓✨~ this was honestly my fave to write I think because I was obSESSEDDD with his softness and yn leading hehe /.\ also yeah we time jumped 6 months bc uhmmm 😎 story progression also here’s [ THE KOOK U SHOULD IMAGINE FOR THIS 😡 ] also if see a typo ummm no u didn't .

let me know what u think! a simple ask goes a long way <3

Despite what past experiences may dictate, Jungkook’s body is actually quite resilient. It’s due in part to his obnoxiously healthy lifestyle; avocado breakfasts, gym rat tendencies, and a normal person’s circadian rhythm (you could never relate). He lives the life health professionals can only dream of writing down in their notes, so careful of his well-being that it’s almost annoying. Of all the habits you help him break, the rituals he sometimes forgets, his health is never one and it’s actually one he ropes you into quite often. The ladder accident last summer had truly been an odd occurrence, and for a while after, you doubt anything else will ever happen to him.

And then winter comes.

Now, Jungkook, with all his superior bodily systems and strict lifestyle, is still not immune to the common cold. So when he comes down with a stuffy nose, a saggy frame, you’re not too surprised. It’s right after New Year’s, which you had spent it at one of Taehyung’s classic overcrowded parties this year, shivering on a rooftop as he kissed you silly under the fireworks, so one of you was bound to get sick. And you were sick for Halloween, so it’s only the universe’s way of leveling the playing field when he gets sick after New Years.

What does surprise you is when he doesn’t bounce back right away. Usually, Jungkook’s high caliber immune system has him in tip top shape about two days later. But this time around, it takes a while. In fact, it takes longer than usual, and you don’t realize until you’re coming over on a Friday night, met with an unusual silence at the Jeon household.

As you slowly grew accustomed to your life out of school, you and Jungkook accepted that you didn’t really have time to be glued to each other’s hips at all hours of the day. It was only natural that sometimes you had too much work, were too tired, or were just not in the mood to visit each other. That was fine, and you’ve come to quite appreciate this new routine, because it only made your heart flutter faster than before when you did see him next. You don’t have to see each other everyday, and that was fine; it was part of growing up together (and growing old together, your sappy heart says).

But today, this separation ends up being your downfall. Jungkook first showed signs of a cold on Monday, and now it was Friday and you hadn’t heard from him in two days. You’re beginning to suspect he’s come down with something severe— maybe that strain of the flu that he forgot to get vaccinated for this year —or even worse, dead.

Luckily, Jungkook isn’t dead, just sadly slumped across the end of his bed, nose a bright red and hair a tangled mess. “Oh no,” you frown, but there’s not an ounce of distress in your voice, because boy, was he cute.

He groans at the sight of you. “Don’t look at me,” he whimpers, hands fisting the sheets. “I’m ugly.”

You bite down on a smile, hang your bag on the hook behind his bedroom door. He’s barely making an effort to stay on the bed, clinging to the side with such powerless hands. “Absolutely hideous,” you play along, arms wrapping around his middle. Registering your touch, your support, he immediately releases what little grip he had and almost sends the two of you tumbling to the ground. “My poor baby,” you croon, manhandling him back into the comfort of his sheets.

Perhaps the reason you believed Jungkook was so immune was because, well, he never let you see him sick.

He was picky about his presentation to the world, always wanting to show his best side. And well, you were in that world. Hell, you were probably the main person he wanted to show off for (not to toot your own horn), so he avidly avoided showing you his unpleasant sides. Even in college, when you had been practically stuck to his side, he had always made a big deal of pushing you away when he was sick, calling off dates and hiding away at his house.

You sort of knew why. Namjoon had told you once that Jungkook when drunk was the equivalent of a needy, whiny baby. You could attest to that because wine drunk Jungkook and vodka drunk Jungkook were quite the experiences to haul home. And apparently Jungkook when sick was more or less the same. He was all doe eyes and pouty lips, magnified by his weakened appearance. He was adorable.

He’s wearing a lot of layers, but it’s still winter so you don’t think too much of it. Dark long sleeve sweatshirt, the front tucked into some cute brown and black checkered pants. You see it as just some casual at home attire until you reach for his covers, hand brushing his hair from his face, only to find it ice cold.

“Oh, you’re freezing, honey,” you frown, for real this time. Jungkook whimpers, snuggles into the sheets you pull up to his chin. He dozes off soon after, pouty lips chapped to hell and back. You reach for your chapstick, deciding to get one good use of it on your own lips before contaminating it with Jungkook’s sick germs. Even in his sleep he’s a good boy, rolling his lips together after you’ve applied it on him.

With Jungkook knocked out, you pad back downstairs and into his kitchen. You can more or less infer that he’s come down with something a little more intense than a cold. His skin was cold, and his nose was runny, but, oddly enough, he wasn’t sweating. You decide to consult a professional.

“The little gremlin is sick?” Doyeon repeats, a comforting buzz in your ear as you get to work making Jungkook your famous Get Better Soon Soup, idly waiting for the water to boil over. You confirm. Doyeon, legend that she was, accidentally sat an entire physiology class one semester (and passed), so this is the closest you’ll get to a doctor friend. “Hm,” she says, “what’re his symptoms?”

You press your phone between your ear and shoulder, clattering around Jungkook’s kitchen for ingredients. “Runny nose and colder than your ass that one time you passed out in the snow,” you supply. “Oh, but not sweating.”

Doyeon hums over the line, tells you to give her a second, and disappears. “WebMD is saying fever, but you said he’s not sweating?” You confirm again. “Throw him in front of the heater and make him sweat then. He has to burn it out somehow.”

“I can’t do that,” you sigh, pausing when you hear some vague sound from around the house. It’s not Jungkook, so you return to your call. Anyway, Jungkook’s house is, like, perfect. Always warm when need be and always cold as well. You don’t even think he knows what a space heater is. “He’s sick sick. Like, can barely hold himself up sick.”

She scoffs. “And I care why?” You huff, go to scold her for their weird rivalry, but then she’s moving on. “Babe, just give him some pain relief and call it a day.”

“Fine,” you mumble. “Wait, can you look something else up for me?”

Anyway, Jungkook probably has a fever, except it’s weird because he’s not sweating it out. He wakes up about an hour later, but this time he’s more self aware. He eats his soup and takes the medicine you offer him. Afterwards, he can’t go back to sleep so he huffily asks for his iPad and begins watching some weirdly specific YouTube videos you don’t think you’ve ever seen him watch before.

You have absolutely no idea what he’s watching, some niche videos of guys in Singapore turning random forest areas into underwater pools? You don’t know. Jungkook seems interested, though, for all of ten minutes until he falls asleep again.

He’s still cold, poor baby, nose like an ice cube that just won’t melt. You find a heating pad you left over in his closet and place it on his chest. Your thought process is that if his heart, the source of all energy, was warm, then certainly the rest of him will warm up soon enough. Yeah, you missed the last three seasons of Grey’s Anatomy; you were a little rusty.

So with Jungkook fast asleep and nothing else to do, you assume the age-old, patriarchal task of cleaning around the house.

His house was usually neat and tidy, mostly as a result of Jungkook’s virgo manifestations, but even those varied. His living room tended to be spotless, but his personal office was a different story. But with him having been out of it this past week, the entire house is littered in tiny garbage that would make Normal Jungkook burst a blood vessel.

There’s a pile of Reese’s wrappers in the downstairs bathroom, on the sink next to his toothbrush. The sight makes you sad, because your poor boy must have been struggling if he was eating candy in the bathroom, where he… uses the bathroom. And then that thought makes you even sadder, thinking back to all the times he was sick and alone, fending for himself out of his weird embarrassment of showing normal body functions.

You had thought he was cute when you first arrived— he still was —but he was also so weak and frail, bulky muscles rendered useless by whatever bacteria was attacking his body, making him sleepy and in pain for god knows how long. With a resolute nod, you sweep all the wrappers into the trash and decide to do your very best at helping Jungkook get through this sickness and bounce back better than ever.

Before leaving his bathroom, you ransack his cabinets, deciding he probably keeps most of his antibiotics here. It’s a spot you never really snoop around, because Jungkook always keeps a fully stocked basket in his closet filled with your typical necessities— from conditioner to pads to nail polish remover, he kept it all. And furthermore, you always tended to use his upstairs bathroom anyway, so that’s where your toothbrush and the like were kept. There was really no need for you to ever look through the downstairs bathroom’s cabinet. So the downstairs bathroom cabinet is practically the other side of the world to you, a culture shock so strong it has you plopping down in front of it to thoroughly sift through.

He’s got a disgusting amount of hair products, none of which you actually think you’ve ever seen him use, and a maniacal amount of tooth stuff. Now, you were quite possibly the biggest proponent for dental care, but this was ridiculous. Four packs of floss on reserve, and about three cases of those dental picks. A whole family pack of toothbrushes and one of those cute little cases for his retainer you’ve seen a few times.

So overwhelmed with his ungodly stash of dental hygiene utilities, you almost miss the pretty pink tube hidden in the very back corner.

You’re thinking it’s some makeup primer you left before that he mistook for moisturizer, probably dumped it with all his other things, only to find out you are very, very wrong.

Sensation Warming Lubricant: NOW! in strawberry flavor

You blink.

Lubricant? Jungkook was using lubricant? Strawberry, sensation warming lubricant?!

Somewhere in your mind you had convinced yourself that Jungkook was a simple man, a lotion at his bedside drawer type of man. He had you for the last one and half year, and you two fucked like rabbits, so you hardly doubt he was jacking it alone these days. And even if he was, why on earth was he so specific about the type of lube he uses?

You turn the bottle around, eyes scanning for an expiration date or something of the like, only to find that the copyright symbol was under this current year. The year that had just started, like, two weeks ago.

Oh, so this was new.

You turn it over, eyes scanning over the warnings like it’ll tell you something about your boyfriend you don’t know yet, some other hidden secret that he’s maybe held from you. Granted, owning lube isn’t really a big deal, but the fact he’s got it so hidden away (not really, it was casually sitting beside his sunscreen) was definitely something to zero in on.

Strawberry flavored, you read again, warming, stimulating, edible? Forget his weirdly extensive floss collection, you had stumbled upon something amazing in here, the goddamn Hope Diamond among snooping girlfriend finds. You’ll confront him about this later, you decide, when he’s back to normal and not whiningly calling your name from upstairs. You pocket it for now, tucking it into your cardigan pockets for said later interrogation, and bound up the stairs to him again.

He’s sitting up in bed like a very angry and confused toddler, brows furrowed sharply like he’s mad. Actually, he just can’t see, the light from the hallway blinding him, so you shut the door and flick on his bedside lamp for him instead. “Hi, honey,” you coo, sitting down on the edge beside him. He’s still waking up, leaning a little too heavily into your palm when you cup his face. “How’re you feeling?”

“Terrible,” he rasps out, but he’s definitely looking better than before. You don’t know if you imagine it, but there’s this slowly accumulating sweat that forms along the base of his neck. “Please don’t leave again,” he says softly, droopy eyes glassy.

Something shoots straight to your heart— an arrow from Cupid himself! —that makes you stroke his cheek tenderly until his eyelids are fluttering shut again. “I won’t,” you promise, feeling around for his iPad. He doesn’t seem like he’ll fall back asleep, sitting up with more strength than he had that morning.

You end up climbing behind him, let him be the little spoon you know he secretly craves to be, as he watches his weird YouTube videos again. His body is so warm against yours, but his skin is still so cold. If what Doyeon had said was true, it’s no wonder he’s kept the same sickness all week. The rhythmic sound of machetes hacking at the earth and water trickling through bamboo pipes grows on you, makes you fall into a sense of comfort behind him, arms tracing circles over his chest.

It’s a mindless habit, one you actually do a lot. Most of the time, it’s when he’s at his desk and stressed out, your masseuse hands making an appearance to soothe the muscles in his neck and chest from being hunched over for so long. Even now, your fingers unconsciously press into the fabric over his pecks, tickle up his sternum until he’s melting against you.

It takes one quiet whimper from him to let you know exactly how he’s feeling. “Everything alright?” you inquire, halting your movements over his chest. Jungkook nods shakily, head lolling forward. The nape of his neck calls to you, whispers for a kiss that you tenderly bestow upon it. It makes Jungkook jolt, another pretty sound leaving his lips at the press of your warm lips against his sensitive neck.

“No more,” he mumbles, rolls his head around until it’s resting against your shoulder, giving you a clear view down his chest. You slide your hands back up from where they’d gone stiff just around his ribs, let them palm over his pecs. Jungkook’s hips buck, a minuscule movement you almost miss.

His heart thunders like the inside of a horse race track beneath your palm, breath picking up just from the simple motion of your hands on his chest. It’s on the fourth circle around his pecs that you feel your pinky briefly catch on something. “Poor thing,” you sigh, running the pad of your pointer finger over the hardened nipple that peaks beneath his sweatshirt. “Is this what was bothering you?”

A shaky exhale in response, hands tightly clutching at his iPad and beloved YouTube video genre. “N-No,” he denies, but you chance a peak at his face, where his lips are bitten a rosy pink color, its slightly muted sister rushing down his cheeks, over his neck.

You press the lightest of kisses to the side of his neck, and he shivers. “Need me to take care of you?” you purr, trail your hands down his chest towards where the hem of his sweater sits. You run your finger over it twice, before moving to slip your hand beneath. Your fingers brush along his abs, contracted tightly at your touch, and slowly make their way back up his chest.

Fingers find his pebbled nipples, a gasp escaping his lips. “Does this feel good?” you ask softly, pinching the swollen nubs between your fingers. Jungkook groans, body arching just the slightest as you rub his nipples, tug and twist them until he’s a whining mess. “Need you to tell me, honey,” you encourage, lips ghosting over his neck.

The second kiss has him flinching as well, head rapidly turning the other way as you slowly kiss over his neck. “___, please,” he pants, knuckles pale on the sides of the iPad. You're afraid it’ll snap, if not from his grip then from the way he pushes at it, like he’s breaking a wooden board over his knee. It’s still on YouTube, playing another video from the same collection, volume competing with Jungkook’s tiny sounds.

Pressing your lips to his neck, you kiss along it slowly, reveling in the lovely noises that Jungkook produces the more you rub his nipples, lower body squirming animatedly before you. Your kisses grow wet for a short period, suck purple blossoms across his skin until Jungkook is quivering like a leaf. “E-Enough,” he begs, voice a wobbly mess that is so light and airy.

You grin, giving his rockhard nipples one last flick before sliding your hands down his chest, over his stomach to toy with the elastic of his pants. He inhales sharply, iPad nearly snapped in half mid video. Ready to play with him some more (and slightly afraid for the future of his tablet), you reach out a hand to move it away, set it off to the side.

But Jungkook doesn’t release it. In fact, he clings to the damn piece of tech tighter than before. “Hmm?” you murmur, bottom lip brushing against his neck once more. “Not letting go, sweetheart?”

He shakes his head, soft crown of curls bouncing from the movement. “Can’t, can’t,” he shivers. His knees shift back and forth, move between being casually spread and flush together. Like he’s hiding something, using the iPad and the videos on screen as cover. You tug at his wrist and Jungkook shakes his head again.

You change tactics, hand sliding around his wrist instead. The other travels up, up, up, comes curling around the base of his neck. Jungkook whimpers, tilts his head back for you cutely at the first brush of your fingers against his Adam’s apple. “Thought you were my good boy?” you ask, eyes zeroed in on the tremble of his lower lip.

Jungkook exhales shakily, a rather torn expression crossing his features. “I am,” he insists, fingers still tight “I am your good boy.”

You smile, stroking the front of his neck softly as you lean down to press a kiss against his cheek. “You are, aren’t you?” He whimpers. “Then let go, honey,” you murmur, hand on his wrist giving another experimental tug. Still, his grip remains solid. “Jungkook,” you snap, “let go.”

“Y-You’ll laugh,” he cries, yet his grip slowly weakens. It’s with a swift tug that the iPad tumbles to his side, presses against his hip, and shows you the raging hard-on that stirs beneath the front of his cotton pants. Pressed nearly beside your ear, Jungkook shivers.

Ever so slowly, your hands return to their place around his waist. “Why would I laugh, sweetheart?” you mumble, marveling at the way his cock twitches and jumps beneath his pants before you can even touch it. His shirt is hiked up just above his abs, your hands tenderly stroking over the skin beneath his navel, but it’s got Jungkook writhing. “Hips up for me,” you instruct.

He shakes even when he pushes himself up, knees wobbling as you slip your hands beneath his waistband and tug them down his thighs. Afterwards, his legs flop forward flatly, spread out with his beautiful swollen cock on display against his hip.

You trap it at the base and Jungkook mewls, hands fisting the sheets now that his beloved iPad has been snatched away. It’s still playing his videos, interrupting his saccharine moans with corny ads every few minutes. A hand snaps up to join, opposite of yours, until your fingers are entwined around his dick. How romantic, you think, discreetly rolling your hips back against the mattress. “Gonna help me make you cum?” you ask instead, give him a light squeeze that makes him jolt.

“Uh huh,” he responds, feathery.

You reward him with a kiss to his cheek, reaching up to brush away the hair that’s begun sticking to his forehead. In the very back of your head you recognize this as being good for his fever, but the rest of you is more concerned with the pretty pout on his lips. “Hold tight for me,” you smile, releasing his cock to press your finger against the very tip of his cock where a pearly drop of precum has begun forming. “So pretty, Jungkookie,” you praise, teasing the length of your finger over the slit on his head. It has that juicy droplet coating your finger, gliding seamlessly over and over again.

The simple touch makes him buck, has him blindly wrapping an arm around your bent knee that was pressed to his side this whole time. He squeezes around you rather weakly, the majority of his strength going to holding his cock tightly like you’d instructed. He’s such a good boy for you, trying his absolute best, even when you’re very obviously overwhelming him.

You roll the flat side of your finger over him, his mushroom tip slowly growing more and more slick as he produces more precum. It’s shiny, fits perfectly between your clasped fingers when you squeeze around his head. Jungkook’s breath turns labored.

He’s always so well kept down there, skin so smooth and free of hairs, and you know he does it because he wants to impress you. “So pretty, baby,” you hum, acknowledging his efforts. Your praise makes Jungkook moan, suddenly fucking up into his hand. It’s accidental, because he hisses at the drag of his dry palm around his relatively dry dick immediately.

“Hurts, hurts,” he whimpers prettily, lower lip caught between his teeth.

You frown, slide your wet fingers down the base of his cock until they’re wrapping around his and Jungkook’s little gasps even out. “I’m sorry, baby, you gotta be patie—“

Something presses against your hip, something distinctly hard that you had hastily picked up from his bathroom cabinet earlier, and a whole new door opens before your eyes. “Hold still for me,” you tell him quickly as you release your grip around his cock. Jungkook wails at the separation, but you’re more concerned with wrestling the tube out of your pocket with one hand. It’s heavy in your palm, turning over until that big fat label on front comes into view again.

Jungkook explodes at the sight. “Wh— Where did you find that?” he stammers, cheeks ablaze. “I-I don’t know where that came fro—“

You ignore him, hold the bottle of lubricant over his stomach as you uncap it, a gooey pink substance spilling over into your hands the moment the lid pops off. Jungkook is still rambling away about the origins of the bottle, as if you care. You set the bottle on his tummy, the cold plastic makes him shiver. But you know what’s not cold? The warming lube in your hands that only takes three rubs of your palms to activate.

You latch down like a crazed animal around his cock. With both your hands fighting to grip at his cock, you’re pressed closer against Jungkook, lips against the shell of his ear.

The initial touch makes him sob, back arching and legs kicking at the sheets piled at the foot of the bed as your slick hands track the lube over his dick. “No!” he cries, hands wildly reaching out to grab whatever he can as you slowly get to work pulling him off. “I-I can’t, __, I can’t.”

“You can,” you coo, watching the translucent pink substance coat his cock, join his sticky precum.

Maybe you get overexcited in your efforts, forget Jungkook is the way he is right now because he was still a little weak from his fever, but you go crazy on stroking his cock. One hand lingers around the base, squeezing and rolling over his balls, palm pressing against the hardened sac and squeezing there too. The other focuses at the tip, does most of the actual stroking over his cock. His head is leaking precum now, every stroke and squeeze making him shudder and push out another drop, until it’s mixing with the lube to form a sticky sweet substance that you wanna lick at so bad.

So you do.

You release one hand to curiously bring it up to your face, turning it over and around as you examine the stickiness on your fingers, the fat drop that unintentionally drips onto the front of Jungkook’s sweatshirt. He sobs at the sight of your lips around your fingers, squirms and bucks into the hand still on his cock until he’s embarrassingly coming. “I’m sorry,” he wails, hands fisting the sheets, fucking into your hand like a virgin. “I didn’t— I didn’t mean to.”

You draw your hand away, watching in slow motion the cum that just spurted from his cock come dribbling down the slowly softening length now. “Oh, sweetheart,” you croon, hands on his tummy. The bottle of lube slips to the side, meets the still playing iPad at his hip. It’s sticky and gross to touch him like this, especially when you know Jungkook hates being unnecessarily dirty, but you can’t stop yourself from softly caressing him, soothe him after such a hard-hitting orgasm.

Honestly you had thought he would hold up a little more, let you get in a few more strokes, but he must’ve been more sensitive than you thought. “I’m sorry,” he cries again, head lolling to the side to meet your gaze with watery eyes.

You tilt his head to the side, angle him just right for you to bestow your first kiss of the night against his little pout. Jungkook hiccups, melts against you as you slowly guide him through the kiss. He’s sloppy and shy, moves nothing like your normal Jungkook, and that fact alone has you slipping your tongue past his lips. He doesn’t fight back, just lets you play with him and sighs all delicately against your mouth.

There’s something about this, his soft and submissive attitude, that has you pulling away to look at him. Big brown eyes, glassed over with unshed tears, and plush lips that call your name. And yet.

“Open,” you murmur, hypnotized by the way that tiny mouth moves.

“Huh?” Jungkook flushes, but he’s so good, he’s your good boy, and does so anyway. Lower lip quivers as he parts his lips, stuttering exhales creeping through as you purse your lips, let the saliva collect on your mouth, before rudely spitting into his. He flinches, whimpers softly, and swallows. He looks at you with these expectant eyes, like he wants to hear how much of a good boy he is, so you do exactly that.

You brush his bangs away lovingly. “Aren’t you just so good for me,” you purr, revel in the way his eyes flutter shut at your touch, like you could never hurt him, and you won’t.

As sweet as the moment is, there’s a raging fire in your core begging to be stroked, and your hyperfixation on Jungkook’s mouth lets you know there’s only one way to chase the feeling. “Up,” you tell Jungkook, who whimpers sadly when you finally escape from behind him.

But you don’t get too far, settling beside him on the bed until you’re looking at the damage you’ve caused from the front. His skin is sticky in some places, pink sheen of the lube decorating him from your incessant touching. Pants around his thighs, shirt against his chest. His face is flushed, all the way down to his chest and up to his ears, so rosy and pink all for you. He shies away under your gaze, drops his head to his chin bashfully.

You grin, shuffle forward to turn those pretty eyes back towards you. “Messy little thing,” you tease, slotting your mouths together again. Jungkook moans this time, lazily kissing you back. His lips move in slow motion, trembling hands reaching for your face to cup, your name falling from his lips when you pull away slightly. “Need you to help me out now,” you murmur, hand on his jaw. “Can you do that, honey?” Jungkook nods hurriedly, eyes foggy and on your mouth. “Lay back.”

He does so, rushes to lay against the pillows until he’s flat on his back. You get to work on your clothes, shed your cardigan and languidly tug your top over your head in the way you know makes your breasts bounce. Beneath you, Jungkook whines at the sight. “You too,” you remind him, wiggling out of your jeans. At your instruction, he begins fumbling with his clothes, pants and underwear haphazardly thrown over the edge of the bed.

By the time you’re naked, you’re met with a rather amusing sight.

In his haste to take his clothing off, Jungkook seems to have gotten himself tangled in his long sleeves, shirt awkwardly bunched up around his wrists and twisted over some. You chuckle. “Help please,” he asks so politely, shaking his arms back and forth above his head. But you’re genuinely confused as to what he did, because one of the sleeves wraps around the other, pins the bulk of the fabric to his skin, and then the other wraps around that. A mess you don’t bother dissecting, simply climbing over him. He complains, of course, soft huffs you wave off.

“Don’t need them anyway,” you shrug, can’t help the lovesick look you send him when you brush his hair away for the umpteenth time. Jungkook leans into the touch sweetly, rosy cheek pressed against your palm. “Lemme see your pretty little tongue,” you order, pussy clenching when he does as told and rolls his tongue out for you, tip pressed against his bottom lip. “Good boy.”

A soft whimper, and then you’re shuffling over him, pretty doe eyes watching with amazement when you finally hover over his face. “For me?” he asks so softly, so sweetly.

It’s a question you’ve heard him utter countless times before in similar settings, always with a cocky grin and mean eyes, ready to send you to hell and back with his tongue or his cock. But it’s different now, big shiny eyes looking at you like you’re the greatest thing to ever happen in his life, so pliant and demure beneath your touch like he lived to serve you.

“All for you,” you assure him, get comfortable, and slowly lower your pussy over his face. His eyes flutter shut immediately, pink tongue ready for you by the time your dripping cunt nears his face.

You can’t help the moan that tears itself from your throat, a soft cry as he begins lapping against your folds. He’s so tender, so careful. It drives you crazy. Hands above his head squirming as you slowly grind your pussy over his face, more mindful than usual because he was so delicate tonight, like a baby bird that shivers with the simplest touch.

His tongue is smooth, circles around your clit. He nudges your bundle of nerves back and forth a few times, sends an initial wave of tingles down your spine, before taking it between puckered lips. His slurps it into his mouth, where it’s so hot and wet, it makes your grind stutter. “Oh,” you pant, reaching down to tangle your fingers in his hair. “P-Perfect,” you mumble.

The praise makes his features twist up cutely, mouth desperate to get more out of you. “You like that?” you gasp, holding his head still as he runs his tongue along your folds. Jungkook nods, eyes glazed over as he messily begins eating you out. “Like when I tell you you’re a good boy, Jungkookie?”

He lets out a broken whine, the vibrations shooting up your spine and making you shiver. Tongue pressed in at your entrance, prods gently like it’s his first time (it’s not) and he’s gauging your reactions. “Oh baby,” you shudder, fingers tightening in his curls.

He looks like an angel beneath you like this, halo of curls artfully splayed across the sheets, arms knotted above his head. Big pretty eyes that make you want to lay down and be his bitch instead, their power just so strong even when he’s whining and whimpering against your pussy like this. His tongue dips into your cunt, makes you buck against him by accident. “I’m sorry, angel,” you breathe, so caught up in your thoughts that the name just slips. It makes Jungkook’s cheeks flush a pretty pink, arms tug at their makeshift restraints. But his brain is scattered, torn between releasing himself, eating you out, and being shy.

He settles soon enough, ends up just sticking his tongue out flat for you to grind against, using the grip in his curls to drag your pussy over his face. His scalp feels warm, sweat clinging to his hairline. He sighs endearingly against you, and it’s that final puff of warm air against your folds that has you coming, cum dripping over his lips and chin sinfully.

When you finish, you quickly get off of him, lay down beside him. Jungkook is panting softly, tongue peeking out to taste the cum that splattered against the corner of his lips. “You were so good for me,” you praise, idly dragging your finger across his skin, collecting your cum on the tip.

Jungkook looks at you with a heavy gaze, knotted wrists slowly returning to rest over his abdomen. “Can you… Can you call me that again?” he asks hesitantly, so shy and polite.

“Hm?” you ask. “Angel?” His lips part, an awfully aroused look crossing his features. You smile, press your cum loaded finger against his lips and he opens, sucks around your finger and moans. “My pretty little angel,” you purr, slowly thrusting your finger in and out of his mouth. Before you can stop yourself, you’re leaning over to kiss him again, swallowing his cries in your desperate need to taste yourself on his tongue. Jungkook is more active this time around, daringly challenging your tongue with his before ultimately giving up, languidly following the pace you set for the kiss. You pull off with a pop, leave him dazed and trailing after your mouth cutely.

You pat his cheek once, offer him a tender smile, before moving to get up and clean up. Jungkook whines at your departure, and it’s only once you’ve sat up that you realize why.

Half hard cock at his hip, fattening slowly but surely. Instantly, it’s like the post-orgasm fatigue is yanked away, pussy throbbing at the sight of your angel and his cock, swelling from eating you out and kissing. He was too good to be true.

“Oh, you poor thing,” you sigh dramatically, shifting onto your knees at his hip to look at him. Something pokes your leg; it’s the stupid iPad playing his dorky YouTube videos that you click off and chuck to the other side of the bed. You had had enough of that by now.

He’s not at full mast yet, and he’s not getting there quick enough for your liking. So you take matters into your own hands. (Besides, what was stopping you tonight? Certainly not this soft, pliant Jungkook.)

Kneeling between his legs, you reach for the forgotten bottle of lube, squirt a fat glob into your hands, then decide that isn’t enough and squirt it directly onto your chest. Jungkook watches with wide eyes, lower lip caught between his teeth. “What— What’re you doing?” he stammers, can’t even sit up with his hands held together. “__, y-you don’t have—“

Squeezing your breasts together, you slip his cock between the crevice, watch as his angry head comes out on the other side so easily, so slippery. Oh, this was gonna be post-work, shower-time, spank bank material for months.

Jungkook sobs, loud and unfiltered at the sight, expression torn as he watches you slowly work your tightened breasts down his quickly hardening member. “T-Too much, too much,” he cries, squirming and bucking beneath you. “I-I’ll come—”

“Don’t,” you snap, stilling your moments to flick your eyes back to him. His head is rolled back, jaw strained, but when he manages to lift it up and look down at you, there’s tears that streak his cute face, trails that glisten when the lowlight of the lamp hits him just right. “Don’t fucking come yet, Jungkook.”

He sniffles weakly, more tears spilling from his eyes. “But I— it feels,” he blubbers, knotted hands reaching down for the base of his cock. You slap it away. “___, please,” he wails, face flushed from all his conflicting emotions.

Ignoring his cries, you get back to work, moving your upper body to and fro to simulate the thrusting motion he is too weak to do himself. He whimpers pitifully, more tears leaving his eyes when you lean down and spit on the head of his cock when it emerges next, make it join the rest of the ungodly fluids painting your chest. Honestly, you’re certain it’s that damned strawberry flavored, sensation warming, edible lube that makes this experience so enjoyable, so mind-blowing.

Jungkook seems to agree, stuttering out a messy whine. “Feels weird,” he snivels, only to be cut off when you release him from in between your tits. Immediately, he begins lamenting the loss.

Slowly, you ease him back in. You’re beginning to understand the intensity of that damned warming lube, because with each glide of his cock between your breasts, it’s like a tingle of nerves sparks within you, insides folding in on themselves as they channel all their energy to that one area of hastily spread lube. It feels so good and wet and messy, Jungkook’s whiny sniffles only fueling the experience. His cock twitches dangerously, and you flash him a glare. “Jungkook,” you warn.

“I’m sorry,” he weeps, thrashing back and forth as if that makes it any easier. “I just— I want,” he chokes, hips bucking into the suction you’ve created between your boobs. Tentatively, you stick your tongue out, let his tip brush against it on the next thrust. Jungkook curses, a feral groan escaping his lips. “Wanna fuck,” he seethes, “now.”

It’s but a slight peek into his regular personality, his normal mannerisms. But something about it now annoys you. In fact, it pisses you off, seeing him be so complacent and sweet just to try and overthrow you at the last second. And it’s with this same train of thought that you release him, climb over him like a crazed sex demon, and press your hand to his throat.

“You're supposed to be good,” you spit, scowl turned on him and it immediately has Jungkook drawing back with his tail tucked, falling into line as he should. “You’re supposed to be my angel tonight, remember?”

Jungkook nods, big round eyes looking at you like you’re insane, but the cock that presses against your ass tells you that he likes it. “I-I’m sorry,” he stutters, shrinking back into the mattress. Sticky hands around his throat, probably make him warm and tingly, but all you can think about is those pretty eyes. Sensing your wavering emotions, he takes advantage by tilting his chin forward for you cutely, pink lips trembling as he silently asks for a kiss.

You release him.

“Stupid angel,” you huff, mouth against his. “Gonna make me mad if you don’t act right,” you remind him, pushing his sweaty curls away from his face. He whimpers against your mouth, let’s you play with his hair as you calm down. He’s a blushing mess beneath you, every inch of him flushed and warm and sweaty.

You shift back and are met with his still rock hard member against your ass. You touch him appreciatively, reaching back to stroke him with a half-assed grip. It makes him moan nonetheless, pulling away from your lips to mewl against your shoulder. “Wanna fuck?” you hum, curling your hand over the tip like he likes, watching his head roll back against his pillow at the sensation. Jungkook groans, doesn’t seem to hear you now. You try again. “Wanna fuck my pussy, baby?”

“Yes,” he gasps this time, jolts when you press the tip of your finger against the slit on his head, plug his cock from releasing any more precum. “Please, please,” he begs, the hands on his chest straining against the shirt he still hasn’t managed to shake off.

One last kiss is delivered to him, a chaste one against his pout that makes him whine. “Whatever you want,” you purr, line him up.

Your hands are still sticky with the lube and so is his cock. Everything is sticky; his cock, you folds, your tits, his neck. It’s a big sticky, slippery mess, but you can’t even be annoyed because everything feels so good. Your tits tingle from whatever they put in that damn lube, nipples rock hard and extra swollen today, like if you don’t touch them you’ll die. You sink back into Jungkook’s throbbing cock, and the second his cock spreads the lube along your walls, you’re jolting because it just feels so damn good.

You can’t believe this is Jungkook’s preferred sick day treatment; YouTube, cuddles, and an ugly amount of lube.

His cock pushes past your folds, fits snugly inside of you just like it belongs. It still feels like the first time, feels like your first day where he was so perfect and sweet. Part of you wonders what would have become of you two if he had reacted like this that day, soft and whiny, when you first prepositioned him. Maybe the sexual aspect of your relationship would be entirely different today, maybe you’d be one the always leading.

But… you’re not sure if you’d want that. Leading is fun— hell, you’re certain this moment will be what you get engraved on your tombstone —but you were a pillow princess at heart with occasional dominant tendencies. You drool over this moment now, but if he asks for this again tomorrow you might actually bend over and die. It was a lot of work, keeping the energy going, and you find yourself having this newfound sense of respect for Jungkook as his cock slips past your folds.

Anyway, when you sit on his cock, fingers teasingly tightening around his throat, Jungkook’s eyes are weirdly focused on your tits. He’s been doing that a lot lately, losing his mind by just staring at your tits. On some occasions he puts them in his mouth, gets possessed by some titty loving monster and sucks on them until you’re trembling. It’s fine because it’s quite frankly a huge ego boost, but something him now makes you want to pick at him for it.

“They’re yours to taste, angel,” you hum, slowly rolling your hips over his fat cock. Jungkook whimpers, softly ruts up into your heat the next time you press down. “Tell me what you want,” you exhale, a breathy moan.

He doesn’t say anything, just drops his mouth open for you with a trembling lower lip. Tongue peeks out, eyes glazed over in his lust, looking every bit like those hentai ads he hates so much. But you fulfill his wishes, help him sit up until he’s flush against your chest. His awkwardly bound hands get squished in the middle, and he says, “m-my hands...”

“I’ve got you,” you soothe, undo his self-made restraints and toss them to the side. Immediately, he’s wrapping his arms around you, pulling you flush against him to latch his lips around your breasts. “S-Slow down,” you whine, hands on his biceps as he sucks your tit into his mouth, twirls his tongue around your nipple. He’s good with his tongue even when he’s sick.

He pulls off with a pop, ragged breathing only making you more sensitive as it fans over the thin layer of saliva he leaves on your tits. “Tastes like strawberries,” he groans wondrously, head against your chest. You use the lull to get back to fucking yourself on him, but Jungkook’s got other plans. He rolls the two of you over, pins you beneath him with his hot and sweaty body. “I’m sorry,” he moans as he begins jackhammering his thrusts into you.

Your back arches, legs thrown around his waist as the sudden change of events. “Fffuck,” you heave, “harder, angel— gotta fuck like you mean it.”

Jungkook shudders, hands looped around the small of your back. His cock rams into you over and over, each glide of it against the walls of your pussy making you unravel in his arms. His lips latch around your other boob, suck and suck like he’s expecting something to come out.

That’s when it hits you.

“N-Nothing there,” you tell him, arms wrapped around his shoulders. His lashes are wet, eyes pinching tighter at your reminder. He pulls away almost to protest, but then you’re guiding him up to your face, hot breath mingling with yours. “Nothing there because you haven’t given me a baby yet,” you murmur darkly, watch the emotions flood his features as you tap into that taboo kink of his.

He chokes, grinds his cock into you and holds it there. “I-I didn’t,” he sniffs, “we never— you never said,” he whines, “...you wanted one.”

You cup his face in his hands, feel slightly mean for the pride you get from his tear stricken appearance. “I do,” you purr, lazily kissing him. “Want one if it’s from you. Don’t you?” He nods like an antsy puppy, quivering against you as he slowly and shallowly ruts into you. “Don’t you wanna see me like that, angel?” you egg on, hands looping behind his neck, idly playing with stray waves and curls. “Tummy so big and swollen because you did something bad, because you couldn’t pull out.”

Jungkook sobs, pulls you impossibly closer until the head of his cock is missing your cervix repeatedly. One of your legs is pressed nearly to your chest, hip tight from the force in which he holds you. “I-I want,” he agrees, more tears spilling down his cheeks.

You smirk evilly, kissing the corner of his mouth gently as he slowly picks up the pace of his thrusts. “Then fuck me hard, Jungkookie,” you demand, “fuck me full of your cum.”

Jungkook nods with a sniffle against your shoulder, fingers tightening against your skin as he slowly but surely begins nailing you into the mattress. He’s a good boy, always, because he does exactly what you tell him to. Uses those bulky muscles to hold you down, makes it impossible for you to move as he pistons his hips, cock sheathing itself inside your cunt.

Every drag makes you unconsciously clench, the raw feeling consuming your thoughts. His cock is so big and wet today, certainly due to that stupid lube from beneath his cabinet. Your entire pussy feels like it’s on ecstasy, stupidly geeked up by that lube, and you’re sure Jungkook’s cock feels the same. It makes the glide so much better, so much easier, each ram of his cock feeling so easy. “Oh, fuck,” you whimper, nails digging down his spine. Jungkook is a sobbing, sniffling mess against the crook of your neck, absolute gibberish falling from his lips.

But you’re no better, tongue seemingly set on a chaotic rampage to validate every single one of his fantasies. “Gonna fuck me while I’m pregnant?” you pant against his ear, fingers tugging at his hair. He doesn’t offer more than a strained cry, thrusts momentarily falling out of rhythm. “You would like that, huh? Fucking me when you’re not supposed to. You’re so bad, Kook-ah,” you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head. “Only pretend to be an angel but really you’re just a dirty, little pervert.”

He wails loudly, slams his hips so hard into you that it makes you sob as well. “N-No,” he blubbers, tears against your skin. “I’m good— I’m a good boy,” he stresses, fingers bruising their prints into your skin.

He presses so close, cock practically making your stomach bulge, but neither of you see. “Dirty angel,” you spit, yank his hair back roughly until he’s forced to look at you with that watery gaze. “So horny you’re willing to get me pregnant.”

Jungkook cries out, snaps his cock into you like he’s trying to break you in half. “No,” he heaves, tears dripping down his cheeks and onto yours. “I-I-I’d do it right,” he defends weakly, hips losing their demonic pace as his orgasm sneaks up on him. “Ma— Marry first… then, b— ba— bab—“

You swallow his words with your lips, kiss him like you’re on the verge of death in a desperate attempt to hide your tears from him. They paint your cheeks in stark strokes, trail down your skin and make everything blurry, but so does your orgasm.

You come first, heart and body trembling at his unexpectedly sweet words, as you become a whimpering, teary mess beneath him. Jungkook follows, cries out your name one last time as he busts inside of you.

Sticky and gross, he falls onto the pillow beside you. Poor baby is so tired, curls covering half of his face, but lips cutely puckered against the pillow. He’s sweaty as hell though, which you now vaguely remember was your original goal with all of this so you count this as a success.

You think he’s fallen asleep, sitting up slowly and reaching for that t-shirt that bound him together earlier to clean up. He shudders when you run it against his skin, obviously still overwhelmed. You shift around the bed in search of today’s MVP. “Where’s the lube?” you mutter to yourself.

Jungkook groans. “YouTube?” he asks, voice dry as all hell.

“No, honey, the lube we used,” you respond, running your hands over the sheets for any signs of the pink bottle.

“Want YouTube,” he mumbles, lets you swaddle him up in the blanket again. You roll your eyes and reach for the forgotten iPad that had long since tumbled to the floor. When it turns on, that same video from before is on pause so you don’t bother changing it as you hand it back to Jungkook. “Nice,” he murmurs, “underground water slide.”

You snort. “Weirdo.” He glares cutely, eyes barely open at this point. “Watch your YouTube.”

“Use your lube,” he sasses back softly, nonsensically, and then rather anticlimactically passes out.

There’s something soft in your chest, something so big and overwhelming, that has you bending over his sleeping figure, mouth brushing against his. “Hurry and get better, angel,” you whisper, wish on it with all your heart.

To no one’s surprise, you get sick two days later. Doyeon laughs and laughs for hours about it, tells you that’s what you get for using sex as medicine. But Jungkook’s back to normal, which means he stays over and coddles you to death.

“Hurry and get better,” he says, spoon feeding you your famous Get Better Soon Soup that you passed on to him. “I have a question to ask you.”

There’s a little black box in his downstairs bathroom cabinet that you swear you’ve never seen, but Jungkook knows you’re lying.

It fits perfectly.

epilogue

She scoffs. “And I care why?” You huff, go to scold her for their weird rivalry, but then she’s moving on. “Babe, just give him some pain relief and call it a day.”

“Fine,” you mumble. “Wait, can you look something else up for me?”

#bangtanhq #networkbangtan #goldenclosetnet #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jjk♡#jungkook x reader smut #bts smut #mine

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alwaysmarveling · 3 years

Text

My Amazing Little Chef

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Warnings: It gets suggestive for all of 2 seconds (but goes absolutely nowhere)

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: You and Nat are going to have a cooking class one way or another

“Nat, c’mon, we’re going to be late!” you yelled down the hallway, shrugging a denim jacket over your shoulders.

“You always say that,” your girlfriend half-scoffed, half-whined as she slid down the hallway.

“Because we’re always late.” You tossed her her own jacket. “And be careful when you do that, you’re going to slip.”

“You’re taking all the fun out of socks, mom,” Natasha smirked. “Besides, I would never slip. Think about who you’re talking to, babe. And I don’t need a jacket,” she dismissed, throwing the piece of clothing on the couch.

“Nat,” you deadpanned, standing up after putting on your shoes, “You say this every time, and then every time you complain on the way home that you’re cold.”

“Not every time,” the redhead pouted. She gracefully slipped on one shoe while balancing on the other leg. “I only do it when it’s outrageously cold. So it’s justified.” You couldn’t help but smile at her protruding bottom lip, kissing away her pout.

“Well, it wouldn’t be ‘outrageously cold’ if you just brought a jacket like I told you to.” Natasha eyed you warily as she put on her other shoe, upset to see you grabbing the piece of clothing back from the couch. “You don’t have to wear it now, just bring it. Please? For me?” You flashed her puppy dog eyes that you knew she couldn’t resist, holding back a smirk when you could see her not-so-hard resolve crumbling.

“Fine,” she sighed.

“Yay!” you squealed, and Nat couldn’t help but grin at the little jump you did subconsciously. “Now, let’s go.”

---

“See, this is why we should’ve never moved out of the Avengers tower. Out of all days for the car to break down, this had to be it?” You rubbed your forehead as the two of you reentered your house.

“I’m sorry, babe, I know how much you were looking forward to this.” Natasha frowned as she thought about her bike, which was currently sitting somewhere in the Avengers tower so Tony could give it some “much needed upgrades.”

“Yeah,” you sighed, peeling off the denim jacket and tossing it on the same couch Natasha had thrown hers less than fifteen minutes earlier. “I just thought it’d be something fun we could do together.” Your girlfriend picked up your jacket, hanging up yours and hers in the closet before stepping closer to you to squeeze your shoulders.

“Anything I do with you is fun, malyshka,” she reassured you, pecking you on the cheek. “On the bright side, they said we could go to another cooking class whenever we want, so we can always go another day. And one of us already knows how to cook, so we won’t die of hunger,” she teased, squeezing your hips.

“Yeah, but the second I go on a mission, you’re screwed, babe.”

“You’d leave me to starve?” Nat pouted. You turned around, a full smile now on your face.

“Of course not,” you whispered, your noses now less than a centimeter away from each other. You pressed your lips to hers, allowing yourself to melt into the kiss until you heard the former assassin’s stomach growl. “Someone’s hungry,” you giggled. “And I did just say I wouldn’t let you starve…”

“You did,” Natasha murmured, trying to meet your lips again. You gave in but pulled away too quickly for her liking. “Where are you going?” You tugged on her hands, pulling her towards the kitchen. “Where are we going?”

“We are going to have this cooking class whether the car wants to work or not. C’mon, we’ll make dinner together.” You pulled a cabinet open, flipping through various recipes.

“Hm, I do like doing things with you.” Natasha tapped her chin, pretending to think over your decision.

“Shut up, you dork,” you laughed. “Go wash your hands. How do you feel about pad thai?” you suggested after pulling out the recipe, shuffling through various cabinets and pulling out all the ingredients you needed. You’d made it a couple times before, and it could be fun to make together. Plus, pad thai wasn’t hard to make—which, let’s be honest, was essential if Natasha was involved—and it was definitely a tasty option.

“Oo, you do love me.” You snorted, the corners of your lips curling up slightly.

“Let’s just hope this turns out well.”

“I’ve got the pizza place on speed dial if it doesn’t.”

“You won’t need to call them if you just listen to me,” you sang over your shoulder, thinking back to the last time the two of you had tried to cook together. You’d turned away for two seconds, during which Natasha had added baking powder instead of flour to the pizza dough. She’d insisted she’d done it correctly when you pointed out the discrepancy in ingredients. Needless to say, the pizza you ate that night was not one that was baked in your kitchen.

“Oh, be quiet, you,” Nat chuckled, smacking your ass playfully as you walked by her. You squealed, and your girlfriend couldn’t help but giggle at your reaction.

“Are my ears failing me, or did the Black Widow just giggle?”

“Y/N L/N, I swear to god, I will kill you. We are in a kitchen. With knives. I can do it.” You let out a fake gasp as you finished washing your hands, turning off the sink.

“You know where the knives are? I didn’t know you’ve been around here enough to know that!”

“Babe,” Nat whined. “You’re being mean.” You smirked at the pout that had taken over her face.

“Alright, alright. I won’t tease you anymore. Besides, something tells me that you don’t need any knives to kill me.” Natasha hummed, kissing your lips long enough for you to taste the cherry chapstick coating her lips.

“That something would be correct.”

“Softie,” you whispered before slipping away from her. “Now,” you started before she could whine again, let’s begin. So, first, you want to break that up-”

“What even is that?” Your girlfriend stared at the solid brick, her brows scrunched in confusion and mouth slightly gaping.

“It’s tamarind pulp.”

“Tamarind- wh- why do we even have this?”

“For pad thai. You can use it to make other stuff too, Natty,” you explained.

“Yeah, but it looks so…”

“So… what? Trust me, love, regardless of how you think it looks, it’ll taste good. Just break that up, yeah?”

“Okay…” Natasha gave you one last glance before following your instructions. You turned around to get some water before she could notice you smiling at the adorable look of confusion on her face.

Ten minutes and some more ingredients and mixing later, the sauce was done.

“Look, detka, I did it!” You laughed at her reaction, pressing your lips gently to her cheek in response.

“Yes, you did. But we still have a long way to- Nat, what are you doing?”

“Don’t we need to taste test it?” she asked, her mouth still wrapped around her fingers.

“I mean, I guess, but- Natty!”

“What?” she questioned, looking at you from underneath her lashes as she dipped her fingers back into the sauce. “It’s good, and I made it. Therefore, I deserve a reward.”

“You’re going to eat all the sauce before we even make the actual dish,” you whined.

“Okay, but, babe. Just taste it, it’s so good.” She stuck her fingers into your mouth before you could protest, giving you a look until you swirled your tongue around her digits, gathering up all the sauce that coated them. You sucked on her fingers with a wink before letting them go.

“You happy now?” Natasha nodded slightly.

“But wasn’t it good? That’s why I need to have more.” You grabbed her wrist before she could dip it back into the sauce.

“No more. I’m hungry, and I’d like to have my dinner the way it’s supposed to be. And no more sticking your grubby little fingers into the food.”

“Fine,” Nat sighed dramatically. “But maybe a little dessert before dinner wouldn’t hurt, would it?” she murmured, her lips now less than an inch away from your ear. “I was thinking, ba-”

“Uh oh. I’m going to stop you right there. It’s never a good thing when you’re thinking.” Natasha opened her mouth to defend herself, but you started talking before she could. “Cooking class, Nat. You’re learning how to cook. That’s it.”

“But why do I need to learn how to cook when I’ve got the best meal I could ever ask for right in front of me?” Her arms snaked around your waist only for you to hit them lightly until she let go. Face burning, you had to admit you wouldn’t mind giving in, but you had a mission of sorts to finish: make dinner with Nat without anything extraordinarily bad happening. “You don’t want me?” the spy whispered, not willing to give up so easily. Before you could respond, the room filled with the sound of her stomach growling once again.

“I always want you,” you chuckled, “But I think you want this pad thai more than you’re letting on. Can we go back to cooking now? Please?”

“I suppose,” Natasha gave in. “But you owe me.”

“I guess I’m okay with that,” you winked at her. “Now, you need to wash your hands again before you get saliva everywhere, and I’m going to cut this chicken.” Your girlfriend gave you one last kiss before obliging.

“Just be careful, baby,” she started as you picked up the knife. “I don’t need you accidentally cutting yourself.”

“I won’t, Nat,” you rolled your eyes. You had just started to cut into the meat when you heard a rushing sound and a high-pitched hum from Natasha.

“What the-”

“Huh?” You looked up from the cutting board and were rewarded by a searing pain on your middle finger.

“Ow!”

“Are you okay?” Natasha turned the water off immediately before rushing to you, hands cupping yours. “Y/N, I literally just told you not to hurt yourself.”

“I’m sorry, I got distracted! The sink made that weird noise, and I’m clumsy. I just...”

“It was just the water pressure being all weird again, hon. Look,” Nat tsked. “You sliced the skin right off. Go wash that off while I grab a bandaid,” the redhead ordered. “And I’ll be doing the rest of the cutting tonight.”

“Nat, I’m fine. I can-”

“I don’t want to hear anything more from you. You cut yourself literally ten seconds after you said you wouldn’t. No more knife privileges for you tonight. Or maybe ever.”

“Natty,” you whined, this time it being your turn to pout. “I’m in pain, and you’re my girlfriend. I don’t need you chastising me, I need you comforting me.” You finished up washing your hands and met the woman at the counter.

“Well, if you hurt yourself, I’m going to do both,” she muttered, concentrating on wrapping the bandaid around your still-bleeding appendage. When she finished, she lifted your hand gently, brushing her lips over the covered wound, her eyes never leaving yours. “Better?”

“Much.”

“Good. Now tell me how I’m supposed to cut this.”

“I guess, you’d say, what can me feel this way?” My girl...” Natasha sang along with the music as she tossed the food in the wok.

“Natty, be careful, you goof!” you giggled. Your girlfriend simply shook her head at you as she continued to sing, her hips swaying to the beat.

“My girl, my girl, my girl,” she winked. “Talkin’ ‘bout my girl, my girl!”

“Baby,” you laughed, “Pay attention to the food before it burns. You can sing later.” You turned down the volume of the speaker before Nat could get too carried away. “Okay, keep stirring the food in the wok,” you ordered. “I’ll be back in a second. Please don’t burn the house down before I get back.” You stepped away from your girlfriend for a second to grab some plates, chopped peanuts, bean sprouts, and the chicken you had cooked earlier.

“I’m not going to burn the house down,” Nat countered.

“I’m sensing some deja vu,” you warned, your back turned to your girlfriend. She simply rolled her eyes in response, taking her eyes off the wok to watch you and pushing some of the noodles out of the wok in the process.

When you turned back around seconds later, you sighed. “Natty, be careful. Look at the wok.” Upon seeing the now displaced noodles, the redhead let out a small breath as her shoulders dropped. “It’s okay, babe,” you reassured her, setting down everything before kissing her shoulder. “I would say you’ve done pretty well tonight. This is just a little slip-up. And look, no fire!”

“Yeah, no fire.”

“It’ll all be worth it when we get to eat. Speaking of which, this is almost done. You wanna go set the table, and I’ll finish this up?”

“Okay,” your girlfriend smiled. “Thank you, dorogaya.” Natasha pecked your cheek before going to grab the silverware.

“Couldn’t have done it without you, love,” you grinned, humming as you plated the dish. The sound of footsteps approached you from behind, and sure enough, Natasha wrapped her arms around your torso seconds later.

“Wow, that looks amazing. It smells even better.”

“You did that.” You brought one of your hands down and squeezed hers.

“I did do that, didn’t I? I did that,” Natasha said aloud, causing you to laugh. When you turned around, your heart melted at the look of pride on her face.

“My amazing little chef,” you praised, kissing her briefly. “Hey, Nat.” A smile grew on your lips as you got lost in your thoughts for a moment. “Do you think Tony can cook? Because if he can, do you think Pepper calls him her ‘iron chef’?” Natasha groaned at your joke.

“You’re way too cheesy, detka. And let’s keep the discussion on us. I do not need to be thinking about Tony’s love life.” Before you could turn back around to grab the food, Natasha pulled you back in for another kiss.

“Okay, okay,” you laughed when she finally let you go. “Are we going to stand here all day, or do you plan on letting us eat soon? Because I personally would like to do more than just stare at the food we made.”

“I guess we can eat,” Nat smirked as you brought the plates to the table.

---

“Hey,” you murmured, turning your face to look up at Natasha. She continued to run her fingers through your hair but shifted her gaze from her book to you. “Thanks for tonight. I had a lot of fun.”

“So did I,” Nat smiled. “Thank you for teaching me how to cook, printsessa.” You hummed for a moment before responding.

“I don’t know if I taught you how to cook. You still have a lot to learn, my young one.”

“Says the one who cut herself.”

“It was an accident! I was worried about you,” you protested. “I do hope we can go to that cooking class soon, though. Being your teacher is exhausting. No wonder Steve gets so aggravated with you during training.”

“Well, sorry,” your girlfriend scoffed, hitting your shoulder lightly. You dismissed her with a light kiss to the palm of her hand.

“It was really cute seeing you all excited and proud, though. I’d give anything to see you like that again.” Nat blushed, and you kept going. “Absolutely adorable, babe. You should’ve seen yourself.”

“Shut up and kiss me,” she finally interrupted you. “You taste like pad thai,” Nat chuckled.

“But it’s good though?”

“Mm, very good,” the redhead agreed, going back to her book.

“Like I said, it’s all thanks to my amazing little chef.”

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff #avengers x reader #marvel #mcu #I wrote something #alwaysmarveling

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sukifans · 3 years

Note

aahhh I’m so excited I love your writing!!! your sokka “help me” fic is one of my favs ever I seriously think about it at least twice a week. in a similar vein, would you be able to combine prompts 10 & 12 for sokka x fem!reader? thank you!!! :)

SOKKA + “can i try that new chapstick? i wanna have a taste” + “i hadn’t noticed but my sweet, funny, goofy best friend is kind of hot, especially since they’ve been on this fitness kick”

⇦ 𝘔𝘈𝘚𝘛𝘌𝘙𝘓𝘐𝘚𝘛

“nastiest skank bitches” Group Message

loml: ladies, i need a girls night

loml: desperately

babygorl: god i’m down, this semester blows

fugly slut <3: i’m in!! always here for a girls night 🥰

loml: y/n??

you: gals. pals. as much as i would love to...

fugly slut <3: ughhhhhhhhh

babygorl: you better not be blowing us off for sokka again istg

you: 😅

loml: TRAITOR BITCH

fugly slut <3: HOES BEFORE BROS

babygorl: WHORE

you: bruh.mp3

you: he’s coming by after the gym to help me with my physics homework!!! I NEED THE HELP PLS I PROMISE ILL BE THERE NEXT TIME

babygorl: lying is a sin y/n

babygorl: sinner

loml: if sokka’s gonna b there maybe she’ll be sinning in........ other ways...... ahaha

loml: fuckboy_emoji.jpg

fugly slut <3: when you gonna tap that fr

you: NEVER LITERALLY NO EW

you: HE’S MY BEST FRIEND

you: UNLIKE YOU RATS

fugly slut <3: he do b kinda yummy tho liiiike 👀

you: STOP

loml: yeah he’s hot sorry queen

you: HE’S NOT HOT

babygorl: i almost hate to admit it but...

babygorl: his biceps 🥴

fugly slut <3 emphasized “his biceps 🥴”

loml loved “his biceps 🥴”

you: hey! i hate u guys! jsyk!

fugly slut <3 disliked “hey! i hate u guys! jsyk!”

babygorl disliked “hey! i hate u guys! jsyk!”

loml disliked “hey! i hate u guys! jsyk!”

babygorl: uh huh yeah sure

loml: yall hear sumn?

NEW MESSAGE from sokka :^)

“hey i’m omw up!”

you: whatever you guys suck

you: i gtg

fugly slut <3: AND YOU SWALLOW

babygorl: bye girly!! get that bestie dick!!

loml: save a car, ride an engineering major >:)

you: desgostang.jpg

You dropped your phone onto the bed next to you with a groan. Your friends really and truly could be such freaks about your relationship with Sokka—or lack thereof. They’d been especially adament ever since he started some stupid bet with Zuko about who could get the most “gains” by graduation, incited by Aang making the mistake of commenting on Zuko’s more pronounced muscle mass.

Idiots.

That’s what Sokka was. Your idiotic best friend, who was funny, and sweet, and intelligent. You loved him, of course, but not like that. And he was not hot.

Definitely not.

The pounding on your dorm door interrupted your musings before Sokka let himself in, dropping his gym bag on the floor and kicking off his slides. His hair was loose and still damp from his post-workout shower and he wore slim joggers with a loose muscle tee.

“Hey!” He smiled brightly when he spotted you sitting in your bed. “What’s up?”

“The usual.” You moved your legs out of the way so he could flop down onto your mattress. “How was the gym?”

Sokka groaned. “Cardio. I’m already sore.” He stretched his arms up to fold behind his head, pulling his muscles taut.

Hm. He does kind of have nice biceps...

You shook yourself internally. Thoughts like these had been creeping out of your subconscious for weeks now, no thanks to your rabid friends.

“My leg’s been killing me, though,” he continued, rubbing his opposite foot across the skin that covered that metal pins and plates holding his bones together after a nasty break in high school. The leg often still gave him problems, ranging from the dull ache he could ignore on the day-to-day, to throbbing pain that left him limping.

You frowned, looking away from his arms to meet his eyes. “You should probably rest up before you hurt yourself,” you said.

“I’ll be fine.” He shrugged and propped himself up on his elbows. “Gotta catch up to Zuko, y’know.”

“Why? You’re already taller than him.”

“So? I wanna be more yolked, too.”

You rolled your eyes. “Buncha dumbasses.”

Sokka quirked an eyebrow. “You want this dumbass to help with your physics homework or not?”

“Haha,” you chuckled nervously, “just kidding, buddy! I meant Zuko and Aang. You—definitely not a dumbass. Nope.”

“That’s what I thought.” He shot you a smug look as he pushed up to sit cross-legged across from you on the bed. He held his hand out with a dramatic, world-weary sigh. “Alright, give it here.”

You opened your laptop to pull up the website that hosted your homework practice problems. “You know I love you, right?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, grabbing a notebook and pen from your desk to work out the math as you handed over the computer. He paused before standing to retrieve his bag, plopping it on your desk chair so he could root through it and pull out his glasses case. You felt your cheeks warm a little when he set the frames on the bridge of his nose.

Fine—he was kinda cute. You could concede that without having to dig too deep into your somewhat jumbled feelings for your best friend.

But you would certainly not “tap that.”

Well...

No. You would not.

You watched his eyes flick over the screen as he tapped the pen against his chin, catching the cap between his teeth while he thought about the formulas he’d learned in a past semester. He nodded to himself and started scribbling out a diagram and the math to go with it. You found yourself a little mesmerized by the way he simply just knew what to do, confidently scratching away at the paper as easily as one might write the alphabet. Your eyes trailed from his long fingers and calloused hand sweeping over the page, up his toned arm (lingering on his bicep a little longer), and to his face. He chewed at the inside of his cheek in concentration, sometimes parting his lips to murmur the logic to himself.

For someone who often said a lot of stupid shit, he sure had a pretty mouth.

You considered what he might do if you snatched a fistful of his shirt and yanked him into a kiss. Would he shove you away and leave? Awkwardly but kindly reject you? Or, would he kiss you back—throw the work out of the way and grab your face to coax you in deeper? Maybe push you back onto the bed and—

“Okay, so basically—”

Jesus Christ, get a fucking grip.

“—from the problem and draw it out like this to apply the formula, yeah?”

Sokka looked to you expectantly and you blinked at him as your face burned. “Sorry, I zoned out. What did you say?”

“C’mon, I know you hate physics but you gotta at least pay attention to me if you wanna pass,” he teased, shifting close enough that the sides of your bodies pressed together. Was it getting warmer in your room, or was it just your best friend?

He launched into the explanation again and you nodded along while internally willing the blood to leave your cheeks. Even as your thoughts ricocheted around inside your skull he managed to break it down in a way that somewhat made sense. He sat back and watched as you slowly worked through the next problem. You glanced up when you heard a soft pop to see him applying chapstick.

“Is that a new flavor?” you asked.

“Yeah, chocolate orange or something.” He held the tube out to you. “Wanna try?”

Fuck it.

Before your rationality could catch up you pressed a hand to his cheek to turn his head and pulled him in for a kiss. Your lips only slotted together for a brief moment before you pulled back to stare wide-eyed at each other. You could feel the fire creeping from your cheeks down your neck, mirrored in the reddening of his tanned skin.

He blinked. You blinked.

The chapstick slipped from between his fingers. Rationality arrived late.

You bolted.

“Uh, see ya later!” you shouted as you threw the door open and rushed out of the room.

“Wait, (Y/N)—“

You didn’t stick around to hear the end of his desperate call. Even thought it was your dorm and you were barefoot you still raced down the hall, wincing at the sound of a door slamming behind you.

“(Y/N)!”

Damn that lanky bastard. You were booking it and he was already hot on your heels. You barreled into the door leading to the stairwell and almost made it down the first step when he grabbed you around the waist and yanked you back. Despite your struggles, the arm hooked across your middle was unyielding until he pushed you into the corner and crowded you against the wall, hands caging you in from either side. Your heart was racing and you weren’t sure if it was because of your escape attempt or that he was close enough you could smell his body wash and deodorant. It was almost enough to make your head spin.

“Sokka, I-I don’t know why—I’m sorry, please, I shouldn’t’ve—“

“(Y/N),” he said firmly and your mouth snapped shut. “Why did you run away?”

“Uh, I—well, um...” You shrunk down against the wall and swallowed hard. “I-I don’t know.”

“You didn’t even give me a chance to respond.”

“Look—“ You paused and stared at him once you processed what he said. “What?”

He laughed, dropping one of his hands to brush against your cheek before threading into your hair to cup the base of your skull. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?”

With that he surged forwards and kissed you enthusiastically, making you gasp into his mouth. You balled your hands into the front of his shirt to keep yourself steady as you melted into him. His free hand pressed into your lower back to bring you in closer. His tongue slipped out to tease at your bottom lip and he chuckled when you had to quickly grab his shoulders as your knees almost buckled.

“Get that,” he murmured against your lips, pressing his forehead to yours as the two of you gasped for air.

“Oh,” you breathed, “that.” You hummed happily when he kissed you again, his stubble scratching against your chin and under your palms when you cupped his face.

You both looked up when a stairwell door somewhere above you slammed open, followed by a group of jostling male voices. Sokka grinned when you glanced at him with wide eyes and shiny, swollen lips. You tried to hide behind him as the clamor bounded closer and closer. The group of guys rounded the next flight and gave shouts of recognition upon seeing you two standing against the wall.

“Sokka!”

“Hey, man!”

“Hey, guys,” Sokka said, holding his hand up in greeting.

“What’s up?”

“Oh, is that (Y/N)?”

“Nice, dude!”

“Ah, yeah...” He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck and you raised an eyebrow at his turned head. They all cheered and congratulated him, slapping his back as they passed and disappeared down the next set of stairs. When Sokka met your eyes again you cocked your head.

“Who were they?” you asked.

“Honestly, I’m not sure.”

“Sokka.”

“My reputation precedes me, what can I say?”

“Mine doesn’t.”

“Well—“ he suddenly became very interested in the underside of the stairs above you “—my reputation may or may not involve talking about you. A lot, apparently.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t do it on purpose!” he interjected quickly, taking your hands in his. “It’s just—I dunno, I guess I think about you a lot, so...”

“Oh.”

“Fuck, okay, that sounded weird.” You laughed a little at his embarrassed floundering. “I just mean, like, things that remind me of you or, y’know, stories that involve you...” he trailed off, flushing at your amused smile. “Stop it!”

“Stop what?”

“Making fun of me!”

“I didn’t say anything,” you giggled, hooking your arms around his neck.

“You’re still laughing at me,” he whined, lips turning into a frown. His hands slipped back down to your waist.

“You’re cute.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Without preamble, he ducked down and hoisted you over his shoulder as you shrieked in protest. “Sokka! Put me down!”

“No can do, baby; we have unfinished business to attend to.” He said as he marched you back in the direction of your room.

“You’re gonna finish my physics homework?”

“Nope.”

Oh.

A/N: 2k words bc, again, i have no self control. thank you for the request!

ATLA TAGS: @hotgirlazula @octophopi @blazedbakugou @protect-remus @akiris @sunflowerazula @wooscottoncandyhair @chewymoustachio @ohno-caroline @sunflowerr-mami @1vitamin @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @u-4iia @nymeria-targaryen @tommy-braccoli @dizzy-miss-lizzieeeeee @a-sloppy-bitch @nomin-rights @siriuslyslyslytherin @starryncn

SOKKA TAGS: @fiantomartell @avatarayeaye @zvkta @sher-lockedmarvel @grandmascottlang @captainshazamerica @yuesallura

#sokka x reader #sokka x you #sokka x y/n #x sokka #sokka fluff #sokka imagine #sokka fic #atla sokka #atla x reader #sokka #mine #requests #atla fic #avatar the last airbender

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hockey-fics · 3 years

Text

Does He Know ~ Matthew Tkachuk

Summary: Your new relationship will never compare to the relationship you had with Matt and you and Matt both know it.

Word Count: ~6k

Warnings: Language, alcohol consumption, references to anxiety

A/N: There’s usage of bold and italics to reference timeframe changes, hopefully they make sense! Everything in italics are flashbacks.

“This one is cute,” you say to Adam, showing him a picture a stranger had offered to take of you two while you were out walking through a local park. Adam with his arms wrapped around you, you looking up into his eyes. It was candid, the ones that followed were with one of his arms around your waist, both of you with plastered smiles.

“It is,” he hums in agreement, barely peeling his eyes off his video game to look. “You going to post that on your Instagram?”

Adam had made comments here and there about how you never posted with him. When you got together you still had plenty of pictures with Matthew. You still had a few up, not bringing yourself to delete all the memories of Matthew from your social media. Matthew. You knew you were still in love with him.

You had been with him for almost four years. You were so completely and wholly in love with him. Nothing bad had happened to end things, nothing to make it easier to end that relationship. When you got together with Adam eight months after the breakup with Matt your friends and family accepted it, believing easily that you were over Matt. But you truly wondered how they could assume that when you had spent so long entirely wrapped up in your love with Matt.

But the comments had started getting to you. From your friends. From your family. Matthew’s career was unpredictable. You never knew what was going to happen with him. They would ask about him getting traded. And you were confident that wouldn’t happen for the time being, but what if it did? How could you settle down with someone who could be moved across the country, or to a new country, just like that? For a career that was entirely unpredictable as well. He could get hurt and his career could be over just like that. It was a short career at that, and then what?

You were still young, you always brought that up. But you had let it wear you down to the point of becoming more and more distant with Matt. Your mind was constantly full of worries. You started to wonder if they were right. Would it be safer and easier to settle down with someone who had a stable, traditional career?

So you ended it with Matt, through shaky sobs on your couch. And then you ended up in his arms, crying for an absurd about of time over a breakup you were initiating. He tried to change your mind, tried to convince you that he would always be there for you, that whatever happened you two could figure it out…together. But you had already told your parents that you were ending things with him and you felt like you couldn’t back out of it now.

You were trying so hard to move on from him with Adam. But it never felt the same. It had been three months and you couldn’t even begin to compare it to your relationship with Matt. From the very beginning with Matt you knew it was different, you had a spark that you didn’t have with Adam.

“Yeah, I guess,” you mutter, opening Instagram. You post it quickly, before giving yourself too much time to think about it, to reconsider.

The next morning you wake up to your phone vibrating on your bed beside you and you’re barely awake but you answer it immediately after seeing Matt’s name on your screen. “Matt?” You whisper groggily as you sit up in your bed, rubbing your eyes.

“You have a boyfriend?”

“No,” you reply quickly, not awake or alert enough to realize what you were saying. “I mean, yes, yeah, I guess I do.”

“You guess? What does that mean?”

“I don’t know…nothing. I just, yeah, I have a boyfriend.”

“Does he make you happy?”

You’re caught off guard by the question, silent for a few seconds too long. “Yeah, I think so.”

“He doesn’t know you like I do, Y/N.”

“Matt,” you whisper, pulling your knees to your chest, tears welling in your eyes.

“Does he know what kind of chapstick you use and that you can’t go anywhere without it?”

‘I’m here’

You were spending the entire day with Matt. It was one of the few days he was both back in Calgary and had a full day off during the hockey season. Hurrying down the stairs of your apartment building you hop into his car, eagerly leaning over and pressing a kiss to his lips.

“Hi,” he chuckles, kissing you again before leaning back into his seat and pulling away from the curb. “Breakfast?”

“Yes, please,” you say, pulling on your seatbelt. Leaning forward you grab your purse, rifling through it for a minute before sighing loudly. “Matt,” you say in a sing-song tone, an obvious indication that you were about to ask for something.

“What?” He asks, glancing over at you with a knowing smile.

“Can we go back?”

“Why? What did you forget?” He laughs.

“My chapstick.”

Reaching beside him Matt opens the console, taking his eyes off the road for only a second before picking up a small tube of chapstick, extending it towards you. Your eyes focus on the small object before reaching over and taking it, turning it over and over again in your had. It was the exact kind you used. Tinted cherry chapstick. You couldn’t imagine Matt would be willingly using a tinted chapstick.

“That’s the right one, right?” Matt asks, glancing over at you.

“Yes,” you comment, pulling the lid off and swiping on a layer. “Where did it come from? Did I leave it in here?”

Matt chuckles, shaking his head. “I bought it…in case you forgot yours.”

You can feel your heart swell with happiness and appreciation for Matt, never thinking chapstick could mean so much.

“Does he know that you bite your nails when you get nervous?"

“You okay?”

Glancing up you look at Matt, standing in the doorway of your living room. “Fine,” you reply, looking back down at your computer and twelfth ‘common job interview’ website you had scrolled through that morning.

“You just painted them,” Matt comments gesturing to your nails as he walks over and sits down on the couch beside you. You had spent the morning getting ready for a job interview. Painting your nails, doing your hair and makeup, picking an outfit.

Glancing down at your hands you realize you had been biting your nails again, sighing softly. “It’s a bad habit,” you mutter, eyes trained on the computer screen again.

“I think you’re more than prepared. Maybe you should give it a break,” Matt suggests, watching you contemplate it before you slowly reach over to shut your computer.

“You’re right,” you agree, setting your laptop down and leaning back on the couch. It’s only a couple seconds before you’re back to rehearsing answers in your head, brining your thumb towards your mouth. But Matthew catches it on the way, holding your hand gently as he brings it to rest on his thigh, fingers folded between yours.

“Say them out loud,” Matt suggests.

So the two of you sit there on the couch, rehearsing job interview questions while Matt holds both your hands. He made reassuring comments, letting you know how smart and put together you sounded. He didn’t have the most constructive criticism to give, having limited job interview experience. But having him listen was helpful enough. And when you left for your interview an hour later you made a promise to leave your nails alone and to take a deep breath before meeting with your interviewer. When you first met Matt you never would have assumed he would be be such a major part of helping you deal with your anxiety, but you were so incredibly grateful for that. Especially when you got the job, knowing it was Matt who helped you stay calm enough to get through the interview.

“Does he know that you have to fall asleep every night to Parks and Recreation playing?’

Curling into your bed you reach for the remote, turning on your TV and quickly navigating through Netflix to your recently watched category, Parks and Rec front and centre. Starting it you lay down next to Matthew, the remote landing somewhere amongst the layers of blankets on your bed. But before you even have the chance to watch any of the show you’ve rolled onto your side, away from the TV.

Matthew lays there, propped up with a few pillows with the full intention of watching the show. He stares at you with furrowed eyebrows for a second before saying anything. “I thought you wanted to watch this?”

“Hm?” You hum, glancing over your shoulder at him. “No, I told you I wanted to go to bed.”

Matthew gestures towards the TV. “Why did you put this on then?” He presses his hand into your shoulder, rolling you over onto your back so you were looking up at him.

“I need it to fall asleep to,” you tell him, giggling at how perplexed he was by the whole situation. It was the first time Matt was spending the night that wasn’t the result of you two having sex first, just spending the night because you didn’t want to be apart, even when you were just sleeping.

Matthew looks to the TV for a second before turning his head to look back down at you. “Like, just the TV or Parks and Recreation in particular.”

Laughing you roll over completely onto your stomach, arm draped over Matthew’s body as you rest your head on his chest. “Parks and Rec in particular.”

“That’s…weird,” Matthew chuckles, running his hand along your back.

“Goodnight, Matt,” you whisper, eyes fluttering shut. “Also, you’re the weird one.”

“Does he know how you take your coffee? And how it changes depending on the place you go?”

“Thank you,” you say happily as Matthew hands you a mug of freshly brewed coffee. You were curled up on the couch, working on a school assignment that was due in a few hours. You were intending to finish it the night before but Matt had texted, asking if he could come over. He promised not to distract you from it but an hour after he arrived you were sprawled on your bed, a naked mess as Matt took away all of the stress for your school work.

“I still can’t believe you drink your coffee black,” he comments, nose crinkled as he drops down onto the other side of the couch, pulling his phone out.

Laughing you bring it to your lips, taking a sip. “Not always,” you point out, eyes fixed on your laptop screen as you read through the work you had always finished.

“Extra hot vanilla latte with non-fat milk,” Matt says, not even needing a moment to think about it.

“Unless,” you begin, smiling as you glance up over the top of your laptop to where Matt was sitting.

“It’s hot out, then you get a double shot on ice from Starbucks with caramel syrup instead of classic.”

You giggle quietly, staring at Matt with a soft smile, your eyes filled with admiration. Because you couldn’t get over how much you loved him. How he remembered the little things, would go out of his way to bring you things you liked to surprise you.

“Does he know about the scar on your knee and the story of how you got it?”

You were stretched out on a patio sofa in Matt’s parent’s backyard. It was sunny and almost excruciatingly hot. You had gone back with him for a week in the summer. Of course you didn’t have an off season. You would have to go home to Calgary to continue on with your life. But for one week you were enjoying being there with him, with his family, hearing all about his childhood and thanks to his siblings, that included the embarrassing stuff. In a couple months you would be celebrating your one year anniversary and you were so content and happy with Matt.

Matt was sitting beside you, your legs stretched over his as he runs his fingers up and down your bare legs, his phone in his spare hand while you were halfway through a novel. “What’s this one from?”

Lowering your book you look at Matt over the top of it. “Hmm?” Your eyes fall to where his thumb was running over a scar along your knee. “Oh,” you comment, realizing what he was asking as you set your book to the side. “When I was ten I was playing in the forest with my best friend and her brother. We found a creek and her brother thought it would be funny to pretend to push me over the embankment into it but I actually fell and bashed my leg on one of the rocks on the way down.”

“What an asshole,” Matt comments, thumb still absentmindedly brushing over it.

“He was twelve and didn’t actually think I would fall,” you say, defending him.

“Still an asshole.”

“I still talk to him…would you like to tell him that yourself?” You joke.

“Yeah, I’ll push him down an embankment for you.”

Laughing you roll your eyes. “He’s literally the nicest guy, doesn’t deserve that.”

“He’s the nicest guy?” Matt asks, eyebrows raised.

Giggling you reach over, grabbing Matt’s hand. “You’re a close second,” you tease.

Matt shakes his head, bringing your hand to his lips and pressing them to the back of your hand. “Guess I have to step it up.”

“Does he know your favourite dessert and how to make it just right?”

“It’s so great to finally meet you, Matthew,” your grandmother says, reaching her arms up to pull Matt into a hug. Her short, small stature made the hug almost comical, like a child compared to Matt. “We’ve heard so much about you.”

“It’s really nice to meet you too. Thank you so much for having me over for dinner,” Matt replies.

It was Thanksgiving Day and you had invited Matt to your grandparent’s house for dinner. The majority of your family was going to be there and you could tell there was a bit of hesitation from Matt, nerves. But you assured him that they would all love him and he seemed to calm down at little. And how could they not love him? He made you happier than you had ever been with another person, they could all simply see it. Not to mention how you never stopped talking about Matt and how great he was.

“Of course, you’re always welcome here for dinner, holiday or not,” your grandma tells him, staring up at his face for a second, shamelessly inspecting him. “He really is as cute as you said,” she states, directing the comment at you.

“Nana,” you groan, shaking your head as you walk over and pull her into a hug. “You’re going to inflate his ego too much.”

Your grandma simply laughs, pulling back to look up at you this time. She pats your cheek gently, wide smile on her face. “Well you needed to find someone just a fraction of how beautiful you are to be able to keep up with you.”

Laughing you glance over at Matt, smiling softly. He was a lot more than a fraction of how attractive you were. But you did appreciate your grandma’s attempt at levelling out his ego again. “Do you need some help in the kitchen?” You offer, knowing that even if she were to get you to help it would be with the simplest tasks, very protective over her meals.

“No, no. You two go join everyone else in the living room. I’m quite alright in here.”

“Are you sure?” You ask again, knowing sometimes it was just her nature to take on too much. “Did you make that apple crumble you always make?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” she assures you. “And of course I did, I know it’s your favourite.”

“She’s been talking about this apple crumble for a week now,” Matt chimes in, making your grandma laugh.

“It’s really good,” you comment, double checking with your grandma once again that she didn’t need help before heading into the living room with Matt to see everyone else.

After a couple more hours of hanging out with your family, everyone getting to know Matt more than they had before, you head into the dining room for dinner. Of course everything was incredible, a ridiculous amount of food spread out on the table. But it was your grandmother’s nature, to provide so much more than was necessary and then send everyone home with enough leftovers to feed everyone for a week.

Once dinner was over you were in the kitchen, everyone helping clean up. Your grandma had finally moved to the living room, trusting everyone to at least clean up correctly. Matt had helped for awhile before disappearing sometime between packing up the the leftovers and doing the dishes. You hadn’t noticed, too preoccupied with cleaning and talking to your family, till your mom pointed out his absence.

“Trying to get out of working,” you joke, drying your hands on the towel that was hanging over the oven door handle. Walking into the living room you find Matt sitting beside your grandma, discussing something that clearly made your grandma happy, a big smile on her face, eyes twinkling. “What are you two up to?”

Matt looks over, reaching for your hand as you get closer and gently pulling you onto the couch beside him. “I’m just hearing all your embarrassing childhood stories.”

“Oh, good,” you laugh, leaning into his side, head resting on his shoulder.

“You picked a good one,” your grandma tells you and you turn your head to look up at Matt.

“I know,” you say softly, squeezing Matt’s hand.

Later that night you head home with an overwhelming sense of comfort. Matt was slowly becoming more and more a part of your life. You knew each other’s families. You were practically living together, inseparable when you neither of you were busy.

What you didn’t realize until much later was that Matt had snuck away from the rest of the family after dinner to ask your grandma if he could have the recipe for the apple crumble. Because it was your favourite and he wanted to be able to surprise you with it. So your grandma happily agreed, rattling it off out of memory while Matt made frantic notes on his phone about the ingredients and the exact way to prepare and all the tips and tricks your grandma gave him.

And when you showed up at Matt’s apartment one afternoon two months later you could smell the familiar smell immediately. You were so caught off guard by the simple act of Matt trying to do that for you that you didn’t even care that he had burnt it, just a little.

“Does he know that you have a playlist that you listen to when you’re sad?”

“Hey babe,” Matt says through the phone, voice gentle and quiet. Matt was on the road for a stretch of games. You knew it was his job, you couldn’t complain about it. But after a hard day you just wished you could be with your boyfriend. However, you hadn’t told him about your terrible day, the stress of school on top of a bad day at work. You didn’t want him to worry. And it wasn’t like you didn’t call each other all the time, but the way he was greeting you was like he somehow knew something was wrong.

“Hi,” you whisper, your eyes suddenly welling with tears.

“How was your day? Everything okay?”

“Not great,” you whisper, wiping at your eyes. “How did you know?”

“Your Spotify…I can see what my friends are listening to.”

You can’t help but laugh quietly, tuning into the song that was currently playing over the speaker in your apartment. Shelter from the Storm by Joshua Hyslop. Your playlist with the crying emoji. There was no denying it.

“Guess I need to use the private session function next time.”

“What? No. Babe, I want to know what’s going on. What’s wrong?” Matt asks, his tone very clearly worried. Exactly what you didn’t want to happen. You didn’t want to burden him with your bad days.

“It was just a bad day, it’s not a big deal. Tomorrow will be better,” you assure him, curling up further into yourself on the couch.

Matt is silent for a second, just the sound of a muffled TV playing in the background. “Why won’t you tell me?”

“Because it’s nothing major, I don’t want you to have to worry about my issues.”

“You’re my girlfriend, Y/N. I love you. I want to know when you’re having a bad day, I want to hear about it. Don’t push me away.”

Your eyes flood with tears again, slipping down your cheeks quicker now. Not even because you were that sad about your day. But because you were so overwhelmed with emotions. So grateful to have Matt in your life, so happy to have someone that you you could not just simply rely on but who wants you to rely on them, who wants to be there for you.

“Does he know that the taste of tequila reminds you of you freshman year of university and that it seems to get you drunker than any other alcohol?”

The Flames had just had a massive win, Matt scoring two goals in the game and was on another level. You had gone down to see him after the game and before you even got a word out he had his arms around your waist, lifting you off your feet and spinning around with you in his arms.

“Congratulations, bub,” you whisper into his ear, giggling as you clutch onto him.

“You’re coming for drinks with us tonight, right?” Matt asks, finally letting you plant your feet back on the ground.

“I guess,” you laugh, leaning up and pressing your lips to his for a quick, gentle kiss. But before you know it he has his hands on your hips, keeping you close as he deepens the kiss. “Matt,” you whisper, pulling back a little. “We’re in public.”

“Right,” he chuckles, pulling away a tiny bit. “I love you so much, I’m so happy you were able to come to the game tonight.”

His excitement makes you laugh, your hands sliding down his arms to clutch both his hands in yours. “I love you too and you know I’m going to be at every game I can…always.”

A few hours later you’re standing a the bar in a crowded nightclub, Matt standing behind you with his arms wrapped around your waist. Noah and Johnny were standing next to you and Matt, laughing about something that happened during the game.

The bartender stops in front of your group, asking for orders. “Four tequila shots,” Noah says, taking the reins for everyone.

Matthew chuckles from behind you as he hears the word tequila, knowing your stories about tequila in university. “Oh no.” you whine, tipping your head back onto Matt’s shoulder.

Four tequila shots are set onto the counter in front of you guys and Matt reaches over to grab one for himself, Johnny and Noah taking theirs as well. Pulling away from Matt you turn to face the little circle the four of you had made. Reaching over you go to take the shot off the bar, pulling back and then reaching for it again, repeating the process a couple more times.

“What’s she doing?” Noah asks, glancing at Matt as the three of them watch you extend your hand toward the shot before hesitating again and again.

Matt laughs, his hand still resting on your hip. “Hyping herself up.”

“I don’t want to,” you laugh, finally picking up the shot.

“Don’t turn down my gift to you,” Noah laughs and the four of you cheers before downing your shots. The liquid burns and sends a shiver through your body as you wince.

“Tastes like getting blackout drunk,” you comment, setting the tiny, empty glass back onto the counter.

And Noah doesn’t let you off the hook, buying you a few more tequila shots throughout the night. When you leave the bar that night both you and Matt are stumbling, giggling messes, climbing clumsily into the back of an Uber and ending up back at your apartment. Despite the pounding headache and vague nausea the next morning you had to admit that the night was beyond worth it.

“Does he know about your fear of parking in parkades?”

You had circled the block four times already, looking for a place to park in the busy downtown block. It was a beautiful summer day, you really should have anticipated that it would be this busy.

“Oh, let’s just park in there,” Matt suggests, pointing to the public parking parkade just down the road.

You can feel your heart speed up a little, your palms sweating at the thought of pulling into the parkade. “I’m sure we’ll find something out here.”

Matthew chuckles, glancing over at you. “Why? It clearly says there’s still like one hundred parking spots in there.”

“I just don’t want to, okay?” You snap, grip tightening on the steering wheel. You were suddenly regretting offering to drive. Typically you enjoyed driving, but now you wanted to press rewind and just get in the passenger’s seat instead.

“Woah, okay,” Matt mumbles, wide eyes focused on you, trying to figure out where your sudden outburst came from. “What’s going on?”

“I just…they just give me anxiety. They’re so cramped and dark and people come speeding around the corner and I-.”

“Pull over here,” Matt tells you, pointing towards an empty spot along the curb a few feet ahead of you.

“What? We can’t park there, it clearly says no parking.”

“We’re not parking, just pull over for a second, okay?”

Doing as he says you pull up along the curb, shifting the car into park and glancing over at Matt. But he was already getting out, jogging around the front of your car to your door. You realize what’s going on when he pulls your door open and you climb out of the car, standing in front of him. “I love you,” you blurt out.

It was the first time you said it. And the timing was terrible, standing on the side of the street parked in a no-parking space. But you meant it. He hadn’t questioned your irrational fear, hadn’t laughed or made you feel bad about it. He accepted it and found a solution without making a big deal about it.

“Does he know that you want to have three kids and a golden retriever when you get older?”

You lay on the blanket beside Matt, the empty bottle of wine laying beside you along with the remnants of your picnic dinner. His arm was behind you, your head on his bicep. The sky above you is clear and dark, speckled with bright stars. You and Matt had walked to the lookout at the park down the road from your apartment, the one you had talked about wanting to go to so many times since you moved there but never got around to. You had lived in that apartment for almost three years, it was time. He brought wine and a charcuterie board which you were incredibly impressed with, even if he bought it already made from the grocery store.

“The world is crazy,” you whisper, fiddling with Matt’s fingers, his arm draped over his stomach, hand resting on your torso.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, like…the universe is so huge and there’s so many people on earth and like…we’re so insignificant. But we still all have all these big dreams and life plans that seem so massive and important.”

“Heavy thoughts.” Matt chuckles quietly, turning his head to the side to look at you. “What are yours?”

“What?” You whisper, turning your head to look at him, nose to nose with him now.

“Your big life plans.”

Looking back up at the stars you take a deep breath. “I want to get my degree and start a career. Get married, buy a house in a nice neighbourhood. I want to get a dog…a golden retriever. Start a family…three…I want three kids.”

“Three?” Matt chimes in, sounding surprised.

Rolling onto your side you look down at Matt, his hand falling to your waist. “You have two siblings,” you point out.

“And I didn’t have to raise us…thank god,” Matt chuckles.

“I think you could handle it,” you tell him, running your fingers along his chest. “I think you’re going to be a great dad one day.”

“Maybe,” Matt whispers, tugging you a little closer. “If it’s you I’m having kids with.”

“Should we go back to my apartment and practice?”

“Practice?” Matt asks, eyebrows furrowed.

“Making babies, we need to have it perfected for when we have to bring three of them into the world.”

Matt chuckles, sitting up with comedic speed. “I kinda thought we were already pretty good at that but not going to say no to more practice.”

“More than pretty good,” you tell him, letting him grab your hands and help you to your feet. And the two of you hurry back to your apartment like excited school kids, not once taking your hands off each other, giggling the entire way.

“Does he know that you have a secret Pinterest board full of wedding ideas?”

Laying on the couch in your living room you wait for Matt to get out of the shower. Matt still had his own apartment, living with a roommate. But he spent more nights at your house than he did at his own, a section of your closet and a few drawers of your dresser now his.

You click on a picture from the screen full of them, a beautiful wedding gown filling your screen a moment later. Tapping quickly you pin it to your wedding Pinterest board. A board that nobody knew about because a part of you was deeply embarrassed about it, about how much thought you’ve put into a future wedding.

“What’s that?”

Quickly slamming your laptop shut you whirl around to look up at Matt, his hair still damp from the shower, smelling like the cologne you loved. “You scared me, I thought you would take longer.”

“I feel like I should be suspicious of that reaction but it didn’t really look like something I should be suspicious about…Unless you have a secret fiancé you’re planning a wedding with.”

Rolling your eyes playfully you pull your knees to your chest, your laptop coming with it. “It’s nothing.”

“Was it a wedding dress?” Matt asks, plopping down onto the couch beside you.

Groaning dramatically you pivot to face the same direction as him, tossing one of your legs over his thigh as you scoot closer, opening your laptop again and facing it towards him.

“Oh, wow,” Matt mumbles under his breath as he scrolls through the Pinterest board. “This is a lot more than just a wedding dress.”

“It’s embarrassing,” you whine. “Stop scrolling,” you giggle, swatting his hand away from the keyboard.

“Is it a hint?” Matt asks, chuckling as he turns to look at you.

“What? No,” you exclaim, laughing. But it wasn’t the craziest thing he could have said. You two had been together for over two years. You were so in love with Matt, it felt impossible for you to love him more than you already did and yet everyday you seemed to fall more in love with him. “Matt, I’ve had that dumb Pinterest board since before I even met you.”

“Well at least we won’t have to spend too much time planning in the future, you’ve already figured it all out.”

“Who said I’m going to marry you?”

Matt scoffs, shaking his head as he sets your laptop aside. “We’re made for each other.“

Smiling you lean over, kissing him gently. “Yeah, we are,” you whisper.

By the time Matt finishes talking tears are streaming down your cheeks, dripping off your face and onto the blankets of your bed. “I still love you,” you blurt out before you even realize what you’re saying.

“I still love you too, Y/N. I don’t think that’ll ever change.”

“Are you in town?” You croak, wiping at your cheeks. You knew you shouldn’t be doing this. You ended things with Matt. You had a new boyfriend. Everything about this was wrong. But you were confused and sad and didn’t know what else to do.

“Yes,” Matt replies without hesitation.

“Can you come over?”

“I’ll be there in fifteen.”

Pulling yourself out of bed you pull on some pyjama shorts, going to the bathroom to brush your teeth and hair, trying to look a little presentable. Before you knew it there was knock on your door. Hurrying to it you pull the door open, glassy eyes locking with Matt’s a moment later. You can only keep your composure for a second before you have your arms around him, tears rolling down your cheeks again. Matt wraps his arms around your waist, stepping inside and letting the door fall shut behind you two. His embrace feels comfortable, it feels like home. “I missed you,” you whisper, muffled by your face being buried in the soft fabric of his hoodie.

“I missed you too, babe.” Matt replies, running his hand along your back soothingly. “What’s his name?”

And just like that reality comes crashing back to you and you slowly pull away from Matt, reluctantly taking your hands off of him. Because you knew this was all incredibly wrong. “Um…A-Adam.”

Matt nods slowly, reaching over and brushing a tear off your cheek with his thumb. “How long have you two been…together?”

“A few months…not long, it’s not serious.” You fidget with the sleeve of the sweater you had pulled on, the fabric damp from wiping at the tears that hadn’t stopped falling since your first call with Matt that morning. “What about you, have you been, uh, like, seeing anyone?” Even saying the words out loud felt like someone punched you in the stomach.

“No,” Matt admits quickly. “I’m still in love with you. I can’t.”

You feel a wash of guilt when Matt says that. Because you were still in love with Matt. You were just dragging Adam along, hoping that he would be the one to change your feelings towards Matt. You knew it wasn’t fair to him. None of this was fair to Adam. “I don’t know what to do, Matt.”

“I can’t tell you what to do,” Matt says gently.

“I need you to,” you croak, reaching up and wiping away some more tears. Your under-eyes were irritated from the fabric of your sweater, stinging and red.

“I can’t,” Matt mutters, moving towards you, hands extended to pull you into him before he stops, pausing and pulling back. “I can’t,” he repeats, this time not about telling you what to do. But about touching you, being there for you like that, crossing the boundaries when he knew you were seeing someone else.

“I wish I could take it back.”

“What?”

“Ending things with you.”

“Me too,” Matt agrees, eyes focused on you even though you could barely hold eye contact with him.

“If I end things with Adam…,” you begin, trailing off as you stare down at the ground. “Could we…”

“Figure things out from there?” Matt asks, filling in your sentence with his own thoughts.

Of course you hadn’t expected him to immediately suggest getting back together. There was a level of trust you had broken when you ended things that would need repairing. But you were willing to put in the work for that, take that risk.

“I’d like that.”

Matt smiles softly, reaching forward and pulling you into a hug. It’s careful and tentative, like he’s still worried about crossing a line despite you telling him you were going to end things with Adam. “Me too,” Matt whispers, holding you close with no indication that he was going to let go anytime soon.

#matt tkachuk #Matthew Tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk one shot #matthew tkachuk fic #matthew tkachuk fanfic #Calgary Flames fic #hockey fanfic #Hockey Fanfiction #hockey fic #hockey one shot #Calgary Flames fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl fanfic #nhl imagines #nhl one shot

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r0zyp0zy0zy · 3 years

Text

✿M.I- Restrained in the Hospital✶★

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Master list

Warnings: hand job, exhibitionism?

Words: 1344

Pairing: Midoriya Izuku x FEM!reader

Summary: Izuku’s arms are broken, again, so you jerk him off for him <3

===NSFW/ SUGGESTIVE UNDER THE CUT===

This was bad. No, Izuku wasn't thinking about his limp and broken arms, each wound snugly in a white cast; he was thinking about the raging hard-on he had, unable to do anything to relive the tent under the thin hospital blanket that covered him. And sure, he was pretty embarrassed when the staff had to help him go to the bathroom and an inconvenient boner would pop up, but he was even more embarrassed when he knew AllMight was dropping by soon.

Izuku struggled in the sheets, trying to at least make the bulge look like a crease in the fabric. He desperately thought of boring things that would get him out of this mess. Math homework. All that cleaning with Kacchan. Math homework. Tutoring. Being tutored by you. Uh oh. He just made it worse. Of course his monkey brain would think of you. He remembered one time when you were helping him study, and you really were, up until Izuku couldn't help his stupid hormone crazed body and—

"Hey, Izu-Chan~!" You sauntered your way into his hospital room, bag slung over your shoulder. "Sorry for not telling you I would pop by; you can't really reach your phone... so.."

You analyzed his face as you went to sit down in the chair beside his bed, noting the hot red streaks that adorned his cheeks. His smile was bright as always, but it had a tinge of anxiety in it. No... embarrassment? It was difficult to tell.

"H-how are things?" Izuku asked stiffly, eyes trying to avoid looking at you.

"Same old," you sighed, taking out some chapstick and applying it thickly to your lips, "damm, this weather is making my lips dry."

"Y-yah," Izuku agreed, attempting to make it look like he was watching the birds outside.

You tried to guess what was up with him. Top secret information he was holding? Maybe... but the conveniently placed wrinkle in the fabric of his blanket said otherwise.

"So," you popped your lips together, "how do you keep yourself occupied when you can't use your hands and arms?"

"Uh mostly music, and making brain notes of things I should work on," Izuku attempted to shrug, "but mostly just sleeping, or daydreaming..."

"... about what?" You pressed, trying to sound nonchalant, grazing a finger on a slightly dusted side table.

"Uhm, well... mostly about becoming a h-hero, a-and, well... uh.." Izuku struggled. "And thinking about hanging out with you..."

"Just hanging out?" You teased, scooching your chair a little closer and leaning your head on his hospital bed railing.

"Uhm, y'see, well- I, um," Izuku stuttered. He was so cute trying to come up with a convincing lie. You couldn't help but smile at his awkwardness.

"C'mon, spit it out," you giggle, teasing a hand down to draw circles on his thigh, deathly close to the 'wrinkle' in the fabric.

"... and about having sex with you," he murmured so quietly that you barely heard him. Ah, there it was. The shameful confession. You weren't going to tease him, (that much, anyway), so you just inched your hand closer to where you assumed his dick was.

"W-what are you doing!?" Izuku exclaimed nervously, his mouth forming a wiggly line to keep from yelling even more.

"You're horny right now, Izu," you batted your eyelashes up at him, slowly moving your hand under the covers, "and I'm gonna help you get off. Right here, right now."

"R-really?" He said, awestruck, "I-I mean, no! We'll get caught!"

You rolled your eyes, "the worst they can do is send me out of the building. It's not like they're gonna throw you out of the hospital."

Deku was deep in thought, mumbling the pros and cons of the situation, ".. well she's got a point... hm but— allmight will be here soon... can't have that.... but on the other hand—."

"Izu, baby," you shook him out of his daze, "calm down, ok? If you really don't want me to I don't have to—."

"—no, wait! I really want you to, it's just- I'll be so embarrassed if AllMight comes early and h-he sees what we're doing..." he stuttered, trying to wave his arms about.

"Careful, baby, don't hurt yourself," you stood up, holding his casts still and trailing your hands down to Izuku's chest.

He was frozen to the spot when your hands didn't stop, and continued down to just above where his dick was. His eyes were as wide as disks, and he couldn't peel them off of you when you folded back the pristine white comforter. You could hear his heart monitor speed up a little, and bit your lip. Shit. You had forgotten about that. You decided to ignore it, and continued to pull up his hospital gown to his chest.

"F-fuck," Izuku whimpered once his hard-on was free. "Haven't touched m- myself in s-so long."

"'So long' being like three days," you hummed, wrapping your fingers casually around Izuku's red cock. He whined under your touch, the heart monitor getting quicker. "Hm, better relax a bit, don't want a nurse coming here to check your heart."

"O-oh..." he scrunched up his face and took a few deep breaths.

You knew that his heartbeat quickening was inevitable, so you just hoped the nurse that checked up on Deku would only peak in and immediately leave. You got into a steady rhythm; spreading his pre-cum over the head, and firmly pumping his length. Izuku's eyes were glazed over, not able to peel off of your movements.

Izuku was struggling to contain himself, flexing his legs and biting his lip. He always came pretty fast whenever you were touching him like this, your teasing doe eyes looking up at him. So now that he hadn't given his dick some proper attention for the past three days, he was extra sensitive.

"Y-y/n, please," Izuku huffed out a breath. "Get t-tissues or something r-ready— I'm so close."

"We won't need tissues, baby," you smirked, lowering your mouth to his cock, flattening your tongue against the underside of his glans.

The way Izuku's eyes nearly popped out of his skull made you want to just get on the bed and fuck him. His face was beet red, and you guessed that his blush trailed down his chest as well. His sweet, lewd, moans filled the room as you innocently looked up at him.

"Soon— gonna cum soon," Izuku whimpered, his eyes half lidded. He refused to look away from your enticing mouth, and he didn't want to waste his time with blinking.

"Go on and cum for me, Izu," you pleaded, your tongue lapping at the underside of his glans.

Deku's eyes practically rolled into the back of his head, and he heaved a silent wail as he came into your mouth. Tears formed at the corner of his eyes, and he glanced down at you. Izuku could've sworn that he almost came again just from looking at you as you made a show of swallowing his cum.

"Ah~" Izuku squirmed when you rubbed at the head of his sensitive cock, unable to get away. "Th-the heart monitor, y-y/n-chan."

You glanced at the machine, and then at the door. You smirked when you saw a nurse's blonde hair whip past the door to his room, swiftly ignoring the two of you.

"What about it, Izu~?" You teased, licking off the remainder of his cum.

Deku's whole body shivered once you gave him a last departing kiss, and you tucked him back into place. His face was glowing pink, but he looked a lot more relaxed than he was before. He let you lean down to kiss his lips, wishing his arms weren't broken so he could touch you.

"MIDORIYA, MY BOY," AllMight announced, stepping into the room. He was in his hero costume, as usual, and gave you a bright smile, "oh, hello to you too, young y/n."

"Hi," you waved politely, grabbing your bag. "I'll leave you two to chat."

"O-ok," Izuku whispered, his face flushing deeper. "See ya."

#midoriya izuku #midoriya izuku x reader #izuku midoriya #izuku midoriya x reader #mha #bnha #anime

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extremelyblackandwhite · 3 years

Text

innocence - 30

PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader

WARNINGS: angst, panic attack

A/N: all i can say is enjoy it before it goes completely downhill xx

NEXT CHAPTER

- Marry me, Y/N. - she looked at him in disbelief, lips slightly parted as she wondered if she had heard him correctly?

- What?

- I ... hm ... would you consider being my wife at some point in the near future?

His father had once told him the moment between the proposal and the answer is the longest moment he’d ever go through. Bucky knew long, he knew long times, he was 106 after all but this moment seemed to last three centuries. She stared at him as if she had merely imagined those words. His heart beat against his chest like a drum, as she opened her mouth. She was going to say no. Why would she even say yes? She was so sweet, so beautiful, so full of a sweet loving innocence which just made her endearing to anyone and everyone who met her. He is not the type of man that ends up with a girl like her. No, he’s the type of man who she dates as a mistake, the one she dates before she meets the one and Bucky was constantly waiting for the moment she realised he was a monster.

- Yeah. - she smiled, the type of smile which easily brightened up his day. She moved from her spot in the bed, sitting on top of his lap to wrap her arms around his neck. - Yes, I will marry you.

- What?

- Yes. - she leaned down to kiss him. - I will become your wife at some point in the near future.

- So, just to be safe, you are agreeing to marry me? Me? - he was still in shock she had said yes. Those words, that question, it was just came out of his mouth like crazy ramblings spawned out of his desire to have a family with her. He just didn’t expect her to say yes. He didn’t expect her to be sat on top of his lap, smiling at him having said yes. - Doll, I ... Fuck, I don’t have a ring. I can’t believe I just proposed to you without a ring.

- That’s fine. I love you and you love me. I don’t need a ring. - she cupped his face, kissing the tip of his nose. - Just us.

- Just us. - he leaned towards to capture her chapstick covered lips into a soft kiss. - I like that, princess. Just us.

- Yeah. - Y/N shyly smiled, leaning against his shoulder. - You make me so happy, Buck. You don’t even know how happy you make me.

Bucky didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to say, what to reply to her so all he did was just look at her, head tucked on the shoulder, the metal shoulder with such confidence and such care. She did not believe he could hurt her and she loved him. There were little moments in his life which had made him want to cry, he had refused to cry many times, but having the woman he loved tell him she loves him, she cares for him, she’ll marry him ... the same woman telling him he makes her happy, not just any woman, the woman he loved ... gosh, it was too much. All he could do was kiss her scalp, hold her close to his naked chest which in any other time it would’ve turned sexual but now, now it was just a candid moment, a moment he wanted to hold close to him for as long as he could leave. He refused to forget the feeling of her hair strands against his shoulder, her warm hand against his chest.

The rest of the holidays were as eventful as it would be. Y/N had decided to only tell her parents about the engagement, keeping her extended family and siblings outside the news merely to keep the event away from the media. She didn’t want it publicised and neither did Bucky. Her parents were overjoyed, with her mother wanting to take photographs of them to put on the family album while her father just gave him the look he would’ve given to his sister’s husband had he been ... well, there. All good things come to an end and that end was very close as the two of them were supposed to fly back to New York for Y/N to attend the New Years’ Eve Vanity Fair gala.

- I wished we could stay for longer. - Y/N groaned as she stuffed more clothing into her luggage. - Last thing I need is a gala.

- It’ll be okay, princess. - Bucky came up from behind her, resting his chin against her shoulder. - We can return when you have another free time slot.

- I never have free time.

- I’ll steal you away if they overwork you. - he bite her shoulder playfully. - What’s the sad mood really all about? Don’t tell me it’s about missing Colin calling me a 200 year old.

- It’s silly. - she shook her head, folding more of her clothing to put with the rest of it.

- I know that face. - he turned her so she was facing him. - What is it? Is it your parents? Do you miss your parents?

- No ... I ... uhm, remember the Halloween party you and I went to?

- Yeah, what about it?

- I met some people from the RSC and they said if I ever was in London, I should try and audition for their West End run of Moulin Rouge. I got this e-mail yesterday, auditions are in like an hour and I don’t know ...

- Do you wanna do it?

- No, I mean ... I can’t, my contract says they’ll pick the opportunities for me and it’s London and I’m in New York. Besides, we leave in two hours.

- They don’t need to know.

- Bucky ... - she was about to argue with him but he interrupted her, kissing her sweetly.

- Do you wanna do it? - he looked into her eyes. Bucky could always tell when she was lying by looking into her eyes; she would always divert them away from the person standing in front of her, normally to the right, chin tucked into her chest, gaze up.

- I ... I do but ...

- We can make it. Your agency does not need to know and it’s not like it’s a done deal. Princess, if you wanna do it then do it.

- Buck, it’s not that simple.

- It is that simple, doll. I can get you wherever you want without anyone knowing and we’ll still make our flight.

- Bucky, I’m not gonna get it. - she sat on top of her bed. She didn’t know if she was gonna get it and it wasn’t that she was afraid of failure or rejection, god she knew both too well, all she was afraid of was if they discovered. She was under a tight contract but those words, that invite to her during that party, it just pulled at her conscience. Bucky was much too familiar with her to know exactly what was going through her mind.

- I’m not gonna let anyone touch you. - his fingers hooked under her chin, turning her face towards him so he could lean his forehead against hers. - They won’t know.

- Bucky, they always know.

- You don’t get to be called a ghost story if you’re not good at being a ghost, princess. If you don’t want to do it then it’s okay but if you’re not gonna do it because of what your agency thinks ...

- You’re sure no one will know?

- Well if they do, we can always get you plastic surgery. - he lightened up the mood making her look up at him, her chin tucked in her chest as she lightly giggled, rolling her eyes at him. - You’ll be fine, princess.

She was nervous as the taxi pulled in front of one of the theatres were the auditions were happening. Looking at her watch, exactly an hour before they had to make it to the airport, check in and get to their gates. Maybe this was a mistake, how was she supposed to feel? The agency had given her a shot at a career in the States, everyone wants a career in the States. She should be happy, she should be so happy but how happy could she feel about being back if thinking about stepping into that plane destroyed her heart into a million pieces. Looking to her right, Bucky was smiling at her, always blindly believing her even if she led him directly into the fire, but he was there. He kissed her temple as she left the car and rushed into the theatre before anyone could show.

She had been to so many auditions before, she had felt her body shake so many times when her name was called out after signing a non disclosure agreement as it was usual for popular shows. This time it was different, this time the light seemed brighter, illuminating each of her features and almost illuminating the sweat starting to form on her forehead. She stood tall, almost like a woman in a panting with hands resting against the beginning of her skirt, one foot in front of the other.

- My name is Y/N Y/LN and I’m auditioning for the part of Satine. - her voice even wavered as she struggled to do something she had been so used to doing since she was young.

- What will you be performing, Miss Y/L/N?

- If It is True from My Life with Albertine. - she looked over to the pianist, signalling him to start.

Her heart was beating so fast and she could feel her whole being shaking as she wondered what Miss Olson would do to her if she even suspected she was doing an audition outside of her contract. She ended up missing the first bars, looking down at her feet as she thought back to quit until she saw him sat down in the further back of the theatre. Cap on, almost covering his whole face but she could see his eyes, she could see his blue eyes just like she could see them every morning when she woke up.

- If it is true, you love me. If when at night dreaming you dream of me then I am luckier than the king who rules the sea. - she decided to sing for him instead, blurring everything except for his almost blended figure in the back. Her hands touched the pearls laying against her neck as she cocked her head to the side, small smile on her lips. - And if I die a sudden death for reasons why I do not know. But if I die a sudden death to live forever in paradise, I will not be as happy, in all that time, as I have been with you. If it is true, if it is so, you love me. If it is true, and I have heard you then I am wealthier than a queen with love of you, I am wealthier than a king with love of you.

The bars ended and she returned her gaze to the board of the directorial team which gestured for her to leave and someone else to enter. She left through the backstage, meeting Bucky just at stage door, who wrapped his arms around her, twirling her before kissing her lips and nose.

- You did so great, princess. It’s almost unfair for the other people auditioning.

- We need to get going or we’ll miss our flight. - she avoided another one of his kisses, her watch shining brightly with the hour. - C’mon.

- It’s gonna be fine, princess. We’ll make it.

Once again, he was right. How could he not be right? When it came to time management, Bucky seemed to be almost too good at it, almost too good for someone who had so much time. Nevertheless, they were inside the plane again, the time when they had left New York now so behind them as they returned to his birthplace. She leaned against him arm, not caring it was made of metal, it was him and that’s all it mattered to her. Y/N was innocent enough to believe she could do whatever she wanted while in London, while in the airplane but she knew the moment she stepped foot on American soil she was back to being property of her agency. Back to the parties, the gowns and the constant filming. She loved her job, she really did but things pilled up so easily and she felt locked inside a cage, slowly suffocating.

She did not want the plane to land, she did not want to be in the present of her situation but it did and during the early hours of the morning both her and Bucky were going down the stairs of the plane and onto the sleeve which lead to the baggage claim area. Bucky immediately went in bodyguard mood despite the fact the airport was very much empty but no him no amount of care was too much and until they got inside the taxi, he cut through people with precise ease, yet held her hand like any boyfriend would. The ride home was silent, neither Bucky or Y/N liked to discuss their matters in front of people they did not trust. The walk up to his apartment was equally silent, with the both of them basking in their own comfort until they reached the door. The two walked in hand and hand before throwing the bags to the side.

- Home sweet home. - Bucky kissed the side of her forehead. - So, what’s the agenda for tomorrow?

- Boring. - she groaned, sitting down on his couch.

- You get to eat for free, how boring can it be?

- Those 40s habits sure die hard, don’t they? - she smirked. - I need to get to my apartment at 4PM to get my makeup and hair done, put the dress on ... PR shots and so on.

- Your apartment?

- I know what you’re thinking, Buck. - she tilted her head slightly to the side.

- I am not thinking anything.

- Please. - she crossed her arms. - You’re thinking it’s not safe.

- That’s not what I’m thinking. - he walked up to her, wrapping his arms around her waist. - I’m thinking it’s not safe to have that many people in an unsafe apartment without me around.

- You’re not gonna be there? - she was taken by surprise. Bucky was always around, even when they weren’t dating.

- Ms. Olson said I can’t be there. Might spoil something ... whatever that means ... but I’ll escort you to the venue and stay with you from then onwards.

- You’re not gonna be far, are you?

- I thought you knew what I was thinking, doll face. - he leaned his forehead against hers, teasing smile gracing his lips as those words left him. - You think I’d let you be alone with those people far away from me? No, princess, I’ll be around.

- Good.

Y/N did not enjoy the parties she had to attend as a member of her agency. Everything was highly planed, too planed even and so was this day. She entered her old apartment and a swat team of people were already waiting for her, she smiled at them, grabbing the letters which had started to pile up on the floor ever since she left to stay with Bucky, until Ms. Olson grabbed her arm and pulled her into her bedroom where the hairstylist and makeup artist were waiting for her. Her assistant’s hands pushed onto her shoulders to sit her down in the chair. Y/N started to go through her letters, most were Christmas postcards, bills, letters from several companies and none mattered much except for one in a brown envelope. She furrowed her eyebrows at the lack of sender name or even her own name or address in the envelope. As the hairstylist started to style her hair, she opened the envelope, a few photos of her falling on her lap. A breathe got stuck in her throat as she saw her own eyes scratched out with crosses over them.

- What is that? - Ms Olson took the photos off her hands. - Why is this still happening? Last thing we need is crazy stalker PR.

- I .. I don’t know. - she shrugged, not knowing why she felt so guilty. It wasn’t her fault. Right?

- Right, I’m sending this to Mr. Hawthorne, he has a friend in the government, and you ... you better not get into any trouble tonight, Y/N. Are we clear?

- Yes, Ms Olson.

- Good and try to smile a bit more for the photos.

Her ears filled with a static buzz and although she could see herself in the mirror and her surroundings, she felt she was laying on the floor of a dark room with dead eyes. Motionless, she remained motionless staring at herself in the mirror yet not understanding the image she could see. She wondered if she had fallen too deep into the industry to be rescued and suddenly that black dark room was filling with water and she just let it happen. Y/N just laid on that metaphorical dark ground, floating in the dark water which kept entering her lungs until she couldn’t bring anymore.

- You’re ready. - she had been so lost in her own mind she did not realise she was fully dressed, hair ready and makeup done. It was pretty subtle, she thought, small black dress falling pretty much looser with tussled hair and skin toned makeup. It was something she’d pick for herself ... maybe the agency did knew her better than she did.

They did the same thing they always did, some shots some not candid candid moments for social media and the good old fake champagne shot. She never really enjoyed champagne, she found it quite bitter even sour but it was prestigious. She guessed somehow it correlated with how she lived now, or how she was portrayed. She was ushered into the limo to Bucky, her Bucky yet she couldn’t really say anything until it was just her, Bucky and the driver. Once they were at least 10 minutes, it felt like the air she was holding in finally came crashing and she was pushed back into her own reality.

- Y/N. - Bucky only spoke her name, not touching not do anything. - I am here, you are safe.

- What? - she looked his way before smiling. She was an actress after all, but he was a former spy assassin.

- You are safe. - her features relaxed and she didn’t say a thing, instead marinating in her own thoughts. - I am here, you are safe.

- I don’t wanna go. - she let it out, her face coming to the realisation of what exactly this meant. She knocked on the partition. - Stop the car.

- What? - the driver was as confused as Bucky was.

- STOP THE CAR! - she yelled out and the car came to an abrupt end. She opened the door and like a mad woman she walked out into the first alley she saw, leaning against the wall with her hand pressed against her chest. Bucky went after her, stopping after he saw her leaning against the brick wall, hand over her mouth. Bucky knew panic attacks when he saw one and this was one of them.

- Princess ... - he walked up to her, trying to hold her but she stopped him.

- I’m not going.

- Okay, we’re not going. - he took off his gloves, raising his hands in the air. - Look at me princess, it’s me okay. It’s me, just me. Just us.

- I can’t do this anymore.

- Can you breathe in for me? - Bucky managed to finally hold her once her defences were down. - Count to ten in your head and then breathe out.

Y/N breathed in, her head going immediately to count sheep, specifically 10 sheep. It was childish and she knew it was childish but she always did that whenever she needed to recover from feeling anxious. She let the air out before repeating again for what felt like a hundred times and things seem to calm down. However, peace and quiet wasn’t in the cards for her.

- Just what in the heck do you think you’re doing. - Ms. Olson’s high pitched voice made her flinch. - You are not important enough to win the privilege to be late.

- Keep it. - Bucky warned, giving her the look no one wanted to receive. A look that was more Winter Soldier than Bucky Barnes.

- You stay in your lane. - she pointed her pen at him. - Get in the car right now, Y/N. I do not have the time to deal with whatever childish diva tendencies you’re developing.

- Not now, let her be.

- Y/N. - she tried to grab Y/N’s arm but Bucky got to her before she did, twisting her wrist with his metal arm before he could even realise what he was doing. He let go of her wrist, but still looked at her as if he was ready to kill her. Instincts die hard. - You are going to regret this, Barnes. And you, Y/N, get in that car now.

- No. - she meekly perked up.

- Excuse me?

- No. - she spoke out a little bit more strongly, forcefully grabbing her purse. - I am not going.

- You don’t get to ...

- Yes, I do. - she interrupted him. - I did not sign a contract which specifically mentioned what events I need to attend, just how many. As such, I am not going and if you try to stop me or try to touch me without my permission ever I will sue you for harassment and I don’t think having an affair with Mr. Hawthorne pays for the legal fees you’d have to pay.

- You will sue me? - she almost scoffed at the not so meek actress.

- My dad is a barrister and my siblings are all lawyers. I have more knowledge of law and suing than you ever did and ever will.

- You wanna call the shots now, tots? - she rolled her eyes before stepping back. - Okay.

Y/N remained behind suspicious of why it had been so easy to get rid of her but decided not to dwell on it. Bucky too was unsuspicious but was more worried about Y/N. She wrapped her hand against his, kissing his shoulder as the two watched Ms. Olson’s car leave along with her car. Typical. Of course she took her car.

- It’ll be fine, right? - she questioned looking up.

- If everything goes to hell, we’ll move to a private dessert island and start there.

- Let’s just go home. - she breathed out. - Let’s just forget new year’s eve.

- It’s a lousy date anyway.

- Yeah. Why are we celebrating the sun rotating a full turn around Earth? It’s ridiculous.

Bucky was always happy to spend alone time with her and while part of him wanted to ask what had triggered her panic attack, he let her have her space. The two of them just sat on the couch, his head on her lap as she played with his hair, some old movie he liked to watch back in the 40s. The year went by and a new one began. At the beginning of the year, he wouldn’t have believe he’d end up here, with her, with the woman he loved, engaged. It was almost too good to be truth and sometimes Bucky wondered if he had been knocked unconscious during a mission and this was all his mind giving him what he always wanted. She had fallen asleep, having laid down next to him.

The morning peeked into his apartment and as per usual he was the first one up, tidying the place up and even putting some flowers up for when she woke up. Y/N loved flowers and so he had made it his mission to ensure she always woke up to new ones. “This is going to make you broke” she would tell him, but he didn’t care. If he had to spend his last days buying fresh roses every morning for the woman he loved then he was going to do it. He leaned against the fridge, drinking his coffee as he did each morning until his phone rang. He clumsily tried to answer it before it could wake up Y/N. Damned IPhone and damned Sam Wilson who made him switch from his razor phone.

- Barnes. - he answered.

- Mr. Barnes, it’s Agent Cox. We have an assignment for you.

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151 notes · View notes

nohoney · 3 years

Text

Eyes lit

notes: Artist Keigo is something I did not know I needed until I made my own dumb paintings lol. Title credit from Crimewave by Crystal Castles

characters: Hawks/Keigo Takami

warnings: 18+, artist!Hawks, drug use, minor choking

summary:

You see swirls of purples and greens forming spirals that you’ve never thought of before, dancing like glitter being blown in the wind and then suddenly you see white. You’re thinking in tones of purples and pinks, they pulse and shine against a wall of white and now you’re thinking of Valentine’s day.

The blanket is pulled from over your head and you look up into golden honey eyes, they look even brighter and you swear that they glow as you look up into them. “You having fun under there babe?”

I’m not an artist, I don’t know how to paint. You told him, intimidated initially when you walked into his apartment and saw a box of paints along with two small easels. The only painting you’ve done was just with your fingers back in elementary school when you were a child, how were you supposed to paint alongside someone who’s a fucking art major who’s got a whole portfolio to backup his experience? But Keigo eased your worries, told you that there’s no need to be intimidated at all.

“You don’t have to worry at all about being good or anything like that dove. The trip will tell you what to paint.”

“It’s gonna look like shit when the trip is over Keigo.”

“Don’t say that dove, art is subjective. Trust me, when you’re on you won’t care as much.” He touches the small of your back and leads you towards the dinner table, “And besides, you might really like what you make in the end.”

“I don’t know what I want to paint.”

“The trip will tell you what to paint, you’ll see.”

Keigo has you sit down to eat first, just takeout pizza from a nearby restaurant along with some breadsticks. Barbecue chicken with a side of ranch, he doesn��t like pepperoni pizza at all. His first choice was fried chicken or wings but that’s damn near what you eat with him almost all the time so this is his compromise. He’s got a little basket of snacks and candy on his kitchen countertop, prepared ahead of time for tonight along with a plastic container of red and green grapes already washed.

“I don’t like grapes Keigo.”

“Trust me, you’ll be grateful to those grapes when you’re on dove.”

He brought out a plastic baggie from his fridge and set out the contents of it onto a wooden chopping board, watching as he broke up the small pieces carefully with a knife. You heard that acid comes in forms of little blotter paper or that people put a drop of it into sugar cubes and dissolve it in water to micro dose someone. Keigo cuts two pieces of what look like little window panes, very small fragments and when you inspect them closer, it almost looks as if there’s little gold flakes inside the gelatin.

“When will I know it’s kicking in?” you ask him, looking down at the tiny piece that sits in the palm of your hand. Such a small little thing that’s apparently a strong hallucinogenic, Keigo’s told you before that he’s felt his sensations cross over like hearing colors or seeing sounds. You had no idea what he spoke of but the best way to find out is to give it a try. “How long will it take?”

Keigo’s fixing up the easels in front of the couch, has blankets ready and is putting a video playlist up on his television. “Depends on the person but most of the time it tends to kick in after half an hour or so. You’ll know when you’re on, you’ll see it.” he explains.

You look around Keigo’s apartment, paintings he made himself hung up on the walls of his home. Most of his paintings were done sober but he’s got a few framed up that he’s particularly proud of that he made when he went on acid trips. He’s already such an amazing artist, certain pictures on his walls capturing your attention and invoking particular emotions from you. You’ve seen Keigo color match your sweater in just a mere manner of seconds, sampling little bits of paints and combining them until the hues matched exactly what you were wearing. And there’s you, just a mere amateur when it came to the arts. But Keigo assures you again that it’s not about making something ‘good’, it’s just there for you to have fun with it. He’s got canvases of all shapes and sizes for you to work with and that even though he’ll be on too, he’s definitely going to take care of you for your first trip.

You trust Keigo, it’s just the canvases and the paints that make you nervous.

He stands in front of you, smiling gently before leaning down to kiss you. His lips are soft, just a hint of vanilla you taste off his mouth because you let him borrow your chapstick earlier, and it’s so tender the way he holds your cheek in his hand that your heart flutters in your chest and butterflies tickle the inside of your tummy. You feel a little flustered when he pulls back, blonde hair swept back stylishly and a lazy grin on his face as he holds his own tab in between his fingertips.

“Cheers!”

The little tab goes underneath your tongue and you’re just supposed to wait for it to dissolve.

So Keigo puts on the playlist and the two of you talk for a little bit before moving to the art stations. “Choose whatever colors you want dove, choose the colors that you think will speak to you.”

You squeeze certain colors you think you want to work with into your little plastic palette, making sure to shake the bottles first and filling all the little spaces that’s meant to hold the paint. Keigo easily chooses the paints he knows he’s going to work with to start himself off and sets himself in front of his easel. He wears a simple red hoodie and gray sweats, comfortable loungewear for the next few hours and you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t notice the print of his cock sometimes when he swiveled his hips a certain way. You wear pajamas pants and one of your soft sweaters, a gentle shade of lilac, perfect for keeping you warm on this rainy night.

You know you’ll be exhausted by the end of it, deciding to take acid for the first time overnight but at least you’ll have the next two days to recover.

And you’ll have Keigo as well.

He makes easy conversation with you, talking about how his week was and in turn asking how yours was. You look down at the paints in your palette as you talk back and forth with him, forcing yourself to not wonder how much time has passed. Your phone is by the kitchen table, placed face down so that you don’t obsess over the time so you try to measure the amount of time has passed based on the time of the videos playing on the television. Yet you start to care less about the time as you actually start to get caught up in the paints in front of you, experimenting and pleasantly surprised with how you came up with such a pretty violet color. You point it out to Keigo, stupidly excited over it but he smiles and agrees with you. “Such a pretty color dove, but not as pretty as you.”

His words make the butterflies flutter in your stomach again but you say nothing, turning back to your canvas and picking up a brush. For a few minutes you just stare back and forth between the paint and the white canvas, wondering how you should start off. Keigo obviously sees you concentrating too hard and reminds you, “Don’t think about it too hard, just paint and see what happens.”

Okay... so in other words, just do it.

So you take a deep breath, dip your brush in the paint, and make a single stripe at the very top edge of the canvas.

“See? Not so scary.”

“Y-Yeah, it’s not!” You squeak out, still embarrassed but a little less intimidated now that you actually started it. You’re not exactly sure what you’ll do with it but there’s no harm in just winging it.

Hm... wings...

You glance over to Keigo, one of his sleeves rolled up and his tattoo visible on his forearm. It’s a detailed wing on his forearm inked in only black, the very tip of it extended towards his elbow and he’s got a matching one on his other forearm as well. You remember the first time you saw them and how Keigo let you run your fingers over his tattoo, watching in amusement over how fascinated you were.

Back to your canvas, you see the sheen of the fresh paint on the white canvas and decide to add more to it. Maybe you’ll get inspired the more you add to it, thinking what colors compliment violet and what exactly you could create. Over the next few minutes you just continue painting the violet further onto the surface of the canvas, looking down briefly at the black paint that’s also in your palette and wonder if you could try painting a mountain. You recall plenty of times looking up at the sky when you were done hiking and just in awe of the colors of the sunset, hues of purples and reds and orange that invoked a certain feeling in your chest.

A sunset... a sunset!

Easy enough yeah?

You just have to add red, orange, yellow, probably a touch of blue... some clouds would be nice too.

So you spread more of the purple across the canvas, concentrating hard at first before realizing something. “Keigo?”

“Yes dove?”

“I think my painting is breathing.”

Keigo laughs from his side and you feel his hand ruffle your hair affectionately.

You look hard at your canvas and swear that you can see the paint inhale and exhale, the veins of the paint pulse in the painting. Wait... veins? You don’t remember painting anything like that, all you did was just cover part of the canvas to get you started. The longer you stare at the canvas, you swear that you can see the paint drip down slightly, the canvas inflating and deflating, and hidden designs on the untouched parts of the white canvas.

The acid had finally hit.

“Keigo... I think I’m on.” you say as you dip your brush into the water cup to wash off the violet, this time into the yellow paint and haphazardly brushing it onto the canvas before switching over to the bright red without washing off the yellow. You think how powerful the color red is, how strong and overpowering it is on the canvas and you tell Keigo, “I think you’d look gorgeous with red wings Keigo.”

Keigo is concentrated on his own canvas but he does glance over to you and smiles how you’re suddenly so into painting when you were so reluctant at first when you walked into his studio. He watches you blend the red into the yellow, wondering what exactly is inspiring you and what your finished product will be. “Ah how interesting dove, you comparing me to an angel?”

“Angel wings are white, I said your wings would be red.”

“Why red?”

You shrug your shoulders as you brush some blue onto the violet on the top of the canvas, blending the blue and violet together. “I don’t know, just suits you a lot... I wore wings last year, I was an angel last year for Halloween.”

“You dressed like an angel last year for Halloween, you certainly didn’t act like one.”

Suddenly the memory of last year’s Halloween comes rushing to the front of your memory and you begin to giggle, needing to set your brush down and have your little giggle fit; he was very right, drunk shenanigans in your angelic costume while holding White Russians with your friends surfacing to your mind. You don’t know why you’re so amused but you are, leaning back against the couch and curling yourself into a ball. You pull the blanket over your shoulders, pulling the bottom corners into your lap and you look down in awe. You swear that even though you’re sitting still, the blanket looks like it’s pulsing as well and you can see the small fibers of it sticking out from the surface. You can’t help but pick at one and hold it in between your fingertips, staring for a few seconds before releasing it.

Moving to lie on your side, you press your cheek into the couch cushion and stare at the painting you just started. It looks weird right now, purple on top with yellow and red in the middle but you’re determined that you’re going to paint that sunset!

You look over towards Keigo, seeing that he started off his canvas a golden yellow at first and is brushing a crimson red on top of it as well. It sort of reminds you of fire and you wonder what he’s seeing. You pull the blanket over your head, sheltering you from the bright lights of the room and you stare at your own hands right in front of your face. Every line and wrinkle is moving, like they’re switching places on you and you ‘ooh’ quietly. When you shut your eyes, it’s not a straight darkness you see like when you close your eyes and go to bed. You see swirls of purples and greens forming spirals that you’ve never thought of before, dancing like glitter being blown in the wind and then suddenly you see white. You’re thinking in tones of purples and pinks, they pulse and shine against a wall of white and now you’re thinking of Valentine’s day.

The blanket is pulled from over your head and you look up into golden honey eyes, they look even brighter and you swear that they glow as you look up into them. “You having fun under there babe?” Keigo asks you, clearly amused to have looked back and saw you as just a lump under his blanket. “Yeah, looks like you’re having fun.”

“Hehehe... yeah.” you smile up at him, pushing some of your hair back from your face. You look as he presents a single red grape to you, drops of water still on it to let you know that it had just been washed and while grapes weren’t your favorite fruit to eat, somehow they looked so appetizing in that moment. You open your mouth and Keigo places the fruit into your mouth, chomping down and it’s so juicy and firm and crunches so loud in your head that you moan as you chew.

Delicious, it’s delicious!

Keigo feeds you grapes every so often, whether you’re sitting in front of your canvas to continue painting, looking at the television and the visuals presented along with the music, get up to look at his other paintings that you think are whispering or waving to you, or when you decide to just stare at the tapestry he hung up in front of his balcony. You understand why tie dye is so appealing to look at now, you know for sure it’s not the wind making the tapestry move, the colors waving at you and you try to reach into the tapestry, your fingertips just barely grasping the colors in front of you.

“How long has it been Keigo?” you ask as you continue to look at the tapestry.

“It’s almost eleven, so it’s been three hours since we took it.”

Wow, three hours...

You’re not sure how the passage of time is feeling for you, everything is looking warped and you suppose that your sense of time is included in that as well.

You feel hands under your armpits and your lifted up to your feet, leaning back and touching the arms that hold you securely. The tattooed wings on Keigo’s forearm, the feathers look as if they’re rustled, they look like they need to be preened. It’s important for birds to preen their feathers so that their wings look presentable. “Okay dove, time for a bathroom break. Think you’ll need my help?”

No, you’re a big girl, of course you can go to the bathroom yourself.

Though you do have to ask Keigo to hold your hand, looking down at the floor and not trusting your own feet. It’s like you’re looking through a fish eye lens, like the floor seems so much wider and closer to you. Keigo says something to you when he drops you off at the bathroom but you don’t hear him, humming absently and you close the door. You do your business and wash your hands, using the nearby hand towel to dry off your hands and then you look up at the mirror.

You lean forward and inspect your pupils, they’re blown up and you think you can see shifting colors in your iris. You really are on, pulling back and inspecting your reflection. Now you feel like you’re caught, not sure if you recognize the person who’s looking back at you and... and... is the shower curtain moving towards you? Is that really you in the mirror? Your hair is never this mussed up and the color of your shirt you always liked before but why did it look so weird on you now?

“Dove, I’m coming in.” Keigo announces and slowly pushes open the door so that he doesn’t catch you in any indecent state. But he sees you just staring intently at your reflection and just comes up behind you, pressing his front to your back and tilting your head back to look at him. “Ah got caught looking at yourself in the mirror huh? S’alright, the first time I did acid apparently I spent a half hour just looking at my own reflection too.”

His eyes are the color of honey and you think you can suddenly taste it in your mouth, you imagine it. “Your eyes are pretty.”

“You’re pretty.”

But you shake your head at the compliment and ask, “Did I always look so weird Keigo?” you ask him, reaching one hand up and brushing the tips of your fingers along his stubble.

“No you never look weird, you’re always so cute.” he reassures you, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Go back to the living room, lemme have my bathroom break and I’ll join you in a hot minute.”

“Don’t fall in the mirror.” you say absently as you walk out the bathroom and shut the door. You hold onto anything you can to help balance you, the floorboards beneath your feet look as if they’re trying to trip you up but you manage on your own to make your way back to your spot on the couch, staring at your unfinished painting.

What... what was I making again?

Violet, blue, red, yellow... oh yeah, the sunset.

Keigo really was right when he said that trip would decide what you would paint.

You don’t hear the bathroom door open but you look up as Keigo comes into your vision and ask, “How do I make clouds?”

“How do you mean? Like how clouds are made in the sky? Well you see clouds are made of water droplets that are so small that they’re able to stay in the air. You see the water vapor-” Keigo starts on what you know is a very educational lecture on clouds but you stop him with a whine, pointing to your canvas. “Oh... oh! You want to know how to paint clouds. Haha, sorry dove!”

Keigo makes himself comfortable right behind you, your bodies once again pressed to one another as he hands you the palette of paint and picks up a different paint brush has you hold it in your own hand but he covers it with his own; you’ll hold the brush while he controls your movements. So he dips the paint brush in the white paint, also adding in a touch of red that almost makes it pink and you gasp. It’s not gonna go together! you think but Keigo hushes you, tells you to just trust him. And although you’re watching how he dabs the paintbrush onto your canvas, you’re not really perceiving the process. One minute it’s a messy slate of purple, yellow and red and then boom suddenly there are clouds that actually create a picture. “Ah you were trying to make a sunset, I can see why you wanted to paint clouds. Very creative, I’m proud of you!”

“I did that?”

“You did!”

He praises you as if you were a child doing it for the first time... though you actually are painting for the first time and honestly it actually is coming out pretty nice, though it’s only thanks to the help of Keigo. So you look back at him, pressing your lips against briefly and whisper out, “Thank you.”

Returning back to his canvas, you decide that you can continue painting on your own. You close your eyes and try to remember any memory that contains a sunset, whether it was through your own eyes or perhaps looking at images on the internet. You try your hardest, your mind producing more interesting shapes and patterns of colors that almost distract you but you’re going to pain that sunset damn it! So you blend the colors on the canvas, adding in more tones of violet and purple towards the bottom to cover up the blank spots. You thought about adding in a mountain or some trees but you feel that’s much too advanced for you to attempt, though you know that you can ask Keigo again but he already helped you once. Now you were determined to do another by yourself.

You ask if you can have another canvas and Keigo gets up to the little pile of untouched ones. When he hands you one and ask if it’s a good size, it’s a question you can really answer because the way he holds it out to you makes it seem to long. And realizing that your perception is altering the way you look at the canvas, he holds it upright for you and you ask for something a little bigger.

Carefully setting aside the sunset painting... whoa it’s like the clouds are really moving!

Focus.

You set up the new blank canvas in front of you, wondering what to make next.

“Ah I almost forgot, I got this for you too while I was at the craft store.” Keigo tells you as he brings up the box paints, holding out a tube of-

“Ooooh... glitter.” you awe at the opalescent colors, holding it against the light to see sheens of white and pink and purple. You’re not sure if it’s the acid or not but it looks extra pretty and you shake the little tube in your hand.

“Have fun with it just uh... make sure to not get too messy.”

You could imagine such pretty colors like the stars and them falling into your eyes... oh, you could make a starry night for your next painting. So you enthusiastically brush more violet and blue onto the new canvas along with a touch of black to make a dark sky. The canvas breathes at you and you think that the more color you add to it, you think you can hear it sigh in relief. You blend it all together and wonder what else you could add to it. You drift to the palette and zero in on the white paint, exchanging your current paint brush for a smaller one, dipping it into the white paint and just making little dots here and there to represent the stars. Then you open the tube of fine glitter and you’re particularly giddy; your painting is going to be amazing, it’s going to look exactly like the night sky... no even better! It’ll be like the cosmos!

You must have been a little overzealous with the glitter on your painting because Keigo nudges a towel just right underneath your easel and you feel him pat down your feet.

Careful with the edges of the painting since it’s still wet, you gently shake off any of the excess glitter and then lean back to really inspect it. In the moment it really looks like a beautiful starry sky and you think that you can literally see shooting stars in it, so sparkly and pretty in the moment. You pull the blanket back over your body and crawl your way to Keigo’s side of the couch, sitting behind him and perching your chin atop his shoulder. Weird, you could have sworn that when he first started painting he started off with yellow and red, he’s painting over it with blue and green now. “Keigo, what are you painting?”

“I don’t know. I started off thinking about fire at first and then all of a sudden I just started putting green and blue together... I think I might have been either thinking about the ocean or the forest... I forget.” Keigo explains, still not stopping his paint brush over the surface. You guess that even artists start off sometimes nonsensical too and that they don’t always have a clear idea how their end product might come out. But you still admire it anyway, reaching your hand out and loosely holding onto his wrist. His arms look even longer from where you’re looking and yet he’s sitting so close to his painting at the same time.

Perception sure is a strange thing when you’re on.

He smells nice, pressing your nose into his neck and breathing in his cologne, humming in delight and pressing yourself even closer to him.

Now you’re not exactly the bold type, every once in a while you’ve decided to make the first move but most of the time you let others give you the signal first before you flirt back. Already you and Keigo have been seeing each other for a few weeks, a few dates here and there but you’ve yet to progress anything spicier than a few make outs and maybe some teasing touches. So it comes as a surprise to him when you drag a hand down from his chest and let it rest in between his spread legs, groaning when you lick the shell of his ear and nibble on it. “B-Babe... we’re supposed to be... to be...”

“Painting? That canvas isn’t the only thing you can paint Keigo.” you whisper in his ear, feeling for his cock in his gray sweats and pleased that you can feel that he’s getting hard. You form your hand over his cock and stroke it through the sweats while your other hand drags over his arm, still stretched out towards the painting but now his arm is tense. “For example... you can paint me with your cum. Inside or out, I’ll let the artist decide.”

Keigo sets down his paint brush and his palette before tugging you to his bed.

It’s dark in his room when he shuts the door but you’re quickly put on the surface of his bed. You can hear him fiddling around somewhere in the corner of the room and then red light fills the room, it’s pretty basic of him to own those strip lights seeing as you’ve had more than a few friends decorate their room with it too but now isn’t the time to critique the mood lighting. You do have to wonder why the color red, why not just put on the regular ceiling lights?

He’s on you once the lights are on, pulling off your pajama bottoms and setting them to the side for the time being. Spreading your legs open, Keigo starts off with kissing the inside of your thighs and slowly goes up higher. Your panties are still on but you moan softly when he kisses your pussy through the cotton, then it’s up to your belly button, pushing your sweater up along with the soft bra you decided to wear tonight as stops to pay attention to your breasts, nipples perked up to the cold air along with the way Keigo flicks his tongue over them. While he sucks hickies onto your breasts, you run your hand through his hair and look up at the ceiling, you think you can hear the flap of a bird’s wings and think something flutters from the corner of your eye. “K-Keigo... is it okay for us to do this while we’re on?”

“You’re safe babe, I’m here.” he assures you as he helps tug off your sweater over your head. “Just focus on me, I’ve done this before.”

Oh great, he didn’t just allude that he’s fucked other people on acid before did he?

Keigo seems to catch his choice of words and grinds his clothed cock against your panties and gives you an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I just mean that sometimes sex on acid can be a precarious thing to engage in, I just wanna let you know that I got you.” he presses the pad of his thumb where he guesses your clit is. “You trust me yeah?”

Yeah, I do.

“How about a little art lesson for ya? That’ll help get you in the mood and you’ll learn something interesting.” Keigo takes off his sweats and his underwear, leaving you the only one who’s almost naked in the room. The music still plays from the living room, smooth guitar and easy beats still reach your ears. “You wanna know why I made the lights red? Red provokes the strongest emotion and is considered the warmest and most contradictory of the colors. Can you tell me some things you think of when you think of the color red?”

Apples, firetrucks, blood.

“Red is one of the most visible colors in the spectrum, its the kind of color that’s an attention grabber which is why it’s used to warn people of danger. Red can convey a sense of danger,” Keigo explains this while he pets you through your panties, it’s almost leisurely the way he does it but he can see how you quiver underneath his touch. “but it’s also associated with excitement, that even sometimes just being exposed to the color can cause elevated blood pressure and heart rate.”

Your heart rate is certainly up right now and it’s not just because of the acid.

You feel Keigo pull your panties to the side and easily glide a finger in but he wants something in return as well, “Spit in your hand and stroke my cock.”

As you stroke Keigo and he gently fingers you, he continues on about his lesson on the color red. “So along with danger, excitement, there’s also aggression and dominance. There’s not exactly a clear reason why red is associated with dominance, maybe it just goes hand in hand with feeling aggressive, perhaps also representing power as well.”

“K-Kei... please get to the point!” you whine, sitting up with one hand braced on the bed while the other continues to stroke him. He’s added another finger and you notice that he’s put a little bit more vigor in his actions. “Please won’t you just-”

“Most of all though, my little bird,” Keigo continues over you but you can take a guess where this ‘art lesson’ is going by the way his lips quirk up and how is voice drops. “red is also linked to passion, love, and desire, that it’s apparently a very attractive color. You remember what color you wore the first time we met?”

“You... you saying that you only liked me ‘cause I was wearing red?” you ask, a breathy laugh leaving your lips but then whine as Keigo strokes your g-spot and you almost dropped back onto the bed but he’s quick to catch you. He quickly pulls his fingers out of you and winds it around your waist to pull you flush against him and settles you in his lap, your hand trapped between your bodies but you continue to jerk his cock despite the limited space.

Keigo chuckles along with you, leaning down to press a kiss to your neck and give you a gentle bite. “Aha I’m just teasing you dove, it was your cute face I saw first and besides, you weren’t wearing a red shirt when we first met... You were wearing red panties, I remember seeing them when you bent over in that short little black dress.”

“You’re embarrassing.” you mumble, adjusting yourself so that you hover over his cock, slapping the head of it against your clit. “And that wasn’t an art lesson, that was more like color psychology.”

“You still learned something, did you not?”

You cup Keigo’s cheeks in your hands, kissing him briefly and pull back to tell him, “I’m not looking to learn anything except how your cock feels inside me.”

So you brace your arms around Keigo’s shoulders, sighing as he eases himself into you slowly. His hands hold your ass, gently lifting you off his cock and then easing you down again to take him further, repeating the process until his girth was sheathed all the way inside you. You gasp together, you at his size and him at your tightness, hands all over each other and you’re wondering where his body begins and yours ends. Whatever other cocks you had inside you before, they’ve never felt like this when they first entered you.

And then the two of you are moving in sync with one another, holding each other’s gaze, just barely able to see the reflection of each other in your blown out pupils. You can’t really see the honey gold of his eyes thanks to the lights but you you think you can taste it still, every time you just taste that sweet nectar when you look into Keigo’s eyes. It must mean how sweet he is, that must be why his eyes are colored like that.

He’s sweet like honey.

Again, you hear the flap of a bird’s wings even though you know the bedroom window isn’t open.

It’s slow and sensual at first, sex on acid is something more heightened, something indescribable behind the sensations as you lean back slightly to roll your hips while you meet Keigo’s thrusts. Your hands locked behind his neck and your head lolling back, a sensual sigh from you when you feel a hand go to your throat. A breathy ‘yes’ spills from your lips as the pads of the fingers carefully press at the sides of your neck; feels good, feels so good...

Suddenly you’re pushed onto your back, gasping in surprise at first and then uninhibited moans as he viciously fucks you. And what can you do but take it, take all of it, peering at him through the haze of pleasure and the peak of your high when you see it.

Bright red wings spreading from Keigo’s back, brighter than the lights, the feathers ruffle and seem to groan alongside him, he’s losing himself in this carnal moment, bracing himself over you and the wings coming forward as well. You feel floaty, almost as if the wings are carrying you themselves, you think you can feel feathers tickle your skin while Keigo’s hands have your hands pinned above your head, your ankles locking just right above his buttocks.

It feels like the sex is lasting forever, that as fast and hard Keigo pumps into you it feels never ending. In truth you don’t know how much time has actually passed, just that the passage of time seems longer. But it feels good, you feel one with Keigo and even just the slightest clench of your fingers intertwined with his feels even more intimate. His panting, your whimpers, the music, the lights, the flapping of the wings, and you crying out his name.

Even as you clench your eyes shut, swirling patterns of hues of red dance behind your eyelids. They seem to move in time with Keigo’s tempo, every slap of his hips connecting with your body, they respond accordingly. You feel one of his hands drawn down from your neck, past your breasts, giggling when he goes over your belly button, and groan when he plays with your clit.

He praises you, tells you how good you’re doing even though you’re just lying there and taking it, you try to participate by rolling your hips up to meet his but his power is just too overwhelming. “Kei... Kei... go, it feels so good...!”

You wriggle your other hand free from his and pull him down, practically hugging him and bringing him even closer, eyes shut hard as he goes into double time. His face is pushed into your neck, breathing hard into it and you think you can hear his wings flapping even harder. His hands hold your waist, just lifting you up slightly so that your back slightly arches.

Soft skin against rough hands.

“Where you going to paint your cum Keigo?” you ask, your lips just barely brushing against the shell of his ear. “All over my face? My tits? Maybe... even turn me around and blow it all over my back?”

“Fuck! Keep talking like that! ’M gonna cum dove... I’m gon’a cum!”

You push him back just enough and once again cup his face in your hands, “Look at me when you cum.”

Jittery nods of his head, he’ll absolutely obey anything you want as long as you don’t let him leave inside of you. All over your face would be so nice, your tits even nicer, he hasn’t pulled out to cum on someone’s back in months but fuck when you mention it, it’s so fucking enticing. But nothing beats when it’s oozing out, like ice cream melting on a hot day as it drips so he has to ask you if it’s okay. “Babe... can I paint you inside babe?”

Does an artist even have to ask permission to paint their canvas?

“Yeah... paint me white inside.”

And that’s all permission he needs, a few harsh thrusts and he cums with you, his cum shooting inside you while you gush around him, almost like it’s trying to push him out. But he stays inside you, his visit isn’t over quite yet, he doesn’t want to leave, not when he feels so connected with you.

You catch your breath, blinking your bleary eyes and see all of those red feathers slowly leave Keigo’s back. You don’t know how many there are, maybe two hundred or something like that, but you watch them leave one by one, almost as if they’re each being controlled individually. You think Keigo is the one that’s dismissing the feathers and you reach out towards them; you never got the chance to touch them.

Hands sliding down his back, you express a mild disgust over how sweaty Keigo is, “Ew... take a shower.”

“Only if you come with me.” Keigo chuckles pushing himself off you but wiping at your forehead as well. Geez, you hadn’t even realized you sweated too.

So the two of you stand under the warm shower spray, he lathers his shampoo and conditioner into your hair first, washing it out for you before you return the favor for him. You note how even more intimate this is compared to the sex before, looking up into his eyes and you give each other an endearing smile. The peak has been passed and now the acid will ease off, already things look a little less distorted and the intense distortions don’t feel like they used to when you first started.

“How are my eyes dove? Getting lost in them?” Keigo chuckles but he doesn’t give you a chance to answer, choosing to kiss you instead. “Did you mind that our first time was on acid?”

“No, it was good.” you tell him as you draw a single line on his collarbone with the tip of your finger. “I can’t wait to have regular, sober sex with you.”

“Hehe, I hope it compares well to my first performance.”

“I don’t know,” you singsong to him, “maybe you set the bar too high having first time on acid.”

“Well don’t say that now.”

The two of you laugh together, he playfully pushes your head but pulls you back in for another kiss. The water runs down both of your bodies and you pull back, looking down at the ground. Keigo thinks that you’re looking down at his cock and that you might be up for another round but you look back up at him and ask, “My feet are like a million miles away... have I always been this tall?”

You dry up together and change into clean clothes, returning to the easels and you’re surprised that the television still is playing music from the playlist. After so long without having your phone, you check the time to see that it’s well into two in the morning and it’s no wonder that you feel tired, not just from the sex but how late it was as well.

You curl up onto the couch while Keigo still works on his painting, the last thing you see were your sunset painting alongside the starry night one, the clouds shifting on one and the other still sparkles with shooting stars.

━━━━✧

“Ugh, I told you that they’d look like shit when the trip is over.”

“Don’t say that, they look fantastic.”

You hold up both of their canvases and each hand, looking deadpan at him with tired eyes. “This one looks like I just puked glitter on it and the only part of this one that is good are the clouds that you helped me paint!” you sigh out and look down at each of the paintings. You knew it, you weren’t an artist after all and you had thought that you did such a good job last night.

Keigo takes your starry night painting and brings it over to the sink, banging the edge of it gently a few times to shake off any glitter that didn’t dry on the paint before handing it back to you. “See, now it looks a little less like glitter puke and I have to tell you this dove, but you painted those clouds yourself.”

Huffing at him, you set down the starry night painting and look down at your sunset painting. “Keigo, I know I was on last night but you for sure helped me paint the clouds. I remember that part pretty clearly, don’t try to treat me like I’m a kid and say some bullshit to make me feel better.”

“I helped you get started but I saw that you picked it up on your own and you painted the rest of it yourself, I swear.”

“Keigo-”

He stops you with a soft call of your name and even though the two of you are tired as hell and feel disassociated from your own bodies and personalities, something tugs in your heart that way he says your name. “I’m serious, I helped you start making the clouds but you actually got the hang of it and watched you do it yourself. I told you the trip would tell you what to paint and you did it!”

You still look disbelieving at him, swearing that you thought you felt his hand help you paint last night. But then again, you also thought you saw one of his paintings of a balloon flying away too so maybe he might be telling the truth. It’s a little hard to discern what were your actions that actually happened versus what was in your mind. Much like the wings you thought he sprouted when the two of you had sex.

“Can you just show me yours? I fell asleep before I could see what you made.” He hands you his own canvas and you stare hard at it, looking back and forth between him and the painting in your hands. “Did you make another one last night?”

“Nope, I used that one canvas the entire night.”

“Didn’t you start off painting it with yellow and red? How did you end up with,” you turn the painting around to show him, “painting this?”

Delicate pinks and purples dotted just right to look like wisteria flowers and a big tree trunk in the very center of it. It just wasn’t fair that he was so good at conceptualizing these kinds of things. You have to wonder if he just had a natural talent for it or if it was something he honed over time. Either way, you know he didn’t get that art degree for nothing.

Keigo chuckles and sets aside his painting. “I looked at your sweater last night and thought I saw wisteria flowers sprouting out, I got my inspiration from you. Also you seemed really into the color purple last night so that helped too. Although you did also give me an idea last night too.” he takes your hand in his, pulling you close to him and reaches one hand underneath your shirt, his palm resting on the small of your back. “That whole ‘paint me thing’ you said yesterday... I was wondering if one day you’d let me paint on you?”

You tilt your head to the side, “What do you mean?”

“Like... just let me paint on your body one day. I can get those body friendly paints and just make a picture on you.” Keigo explains with a sheepish smile coming onto his face despite how tired he looks. “It kinda turned on me on last night when you said you wanted me to paint you inside and I just thought ‘well what if I actually did?’ But not with my cum I mean, though I wouldn’t mind that either.“

The thought of laying down for Keigo while he does such a thing, it sounds quite intimate. You look into his eyes, his pupils still a little wide but it’s only a few more hours for the acid to exit your bodies. It was intense last night but you were glad to have done it with Keigo and even though you think the art you did last night is sort of crap now, you can’t deny that it was sort of fun to do it still.

Your paintings lay to the side, his own stupidly good wisteria painting sitting alongside your glittered starry night and sunset painting. Strange how your eyes perceived everything last night from elongated lengths, the dynamically changing colors you saw when you shut your eyes, you felt everything alive around rather than thinking of the furniture as mere static objects, the red wings and feather you swore you felt against your skin when Keigo fucked his cock into you, everything was beautiful and you couldn’t have asked for a better first time.

You’d like to do it again.

“Can I dove? Can I paint on you one day?”

“... Yeah, I’d like that.”

#takami keigo x reader #takami x reader #hawks x reader #bnha x reader #hawks smut #tw drugs

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ukai-simp-services · 3 years

Text

hq character’s favorite lip smacker flavors

warnings: none, just slight cursing

a/n: wow the way this was one of my best ideas... anyway some of these are kinda repetitive so bare with me 😭

karasuno

hinata

i feel like hinata would be down for one of the really fruity flavors, like watermelon or mango sunrise. forgets it at home or in your car a lot so you always buy him extra.

kageyama

kags is def giving me the classic strawberry or cherry vibe, like the one that ALL stores sell. they’re the easiest to find and he likes the flavors.

daichi

ok i feel like daichi would use the peppermint flavor a lot, but i can also seeing him use the cinnamon flavor every now and then too, spice things up a little.

sugawara

i can see suga using some of the sweeter flavors, like strawberry as a daily chapstick and maybe sugar cookie when he wants to switch things up.

asahi

mans got the whole berry pack. uses them pretty frequently throughout the day, has a different flavor in different places. like one in his school bag, one in his gym locker, one at home, etc.

tanaka

ok tanaka probably doesn’t use use them that much, but when he does, he fucks w the soda flavors. like coke and sprite.

nishinoya

i don’t even think he knows what lip smackers are....but let’s give him the benefit of the doubt and say he would use one of the sugary ones. like the skittles one.

tsukishima

vanilla. no pun intended. i just totally see him using the vanilla flavor, probably the coconut one too.

yamaguchi

i can see bby using the pink lemonade,,,maybe the cucumber melon too mmmm. applies them a lot.

ennoshita

he uses that lime flavor (i forgot it’s exact name) but that and probably some fruity shit like tropical punch.

ukai

PLEASE. he wouldn’t sell lip smackers at his convenience store so he’s like ?? tf is that babe ?? but, once you show him he’d definitely be down for the rootbeer or coke flavor, he’s a soda man what can i say. BUT i imagine he’d keep it simple most of the time w peppermint. (u also make him start selling them so he ends up trying the fruity flavors~)

kiyoko

god, i wanna say the cherry flavor bc of the mf katy perry song (pls tell me if yk what im talking about) BUT i can also see her using the mint one and the coconut one too. queen has multiple flavors, as she should.

yachi

100% one of the candy flavors, like bubblegum. definitely the cotton candy one too. yachi’s lips always taste good period.

nekoma

kuroo

another cherry chapstick lover, but he spices his shit up with the cherry cobbler flavor. wants to taste good at all times for you~

kenma

doesn't use it often, but when he remembers or you remind him, he'll usually use a fun soda flavor like from the fanta pack,, or even just regular grape.

yaku

giving me grapefruit delight vibes...idk why but he just is. i can see him whipping it out in the lockerroom before practice starts, quickly applying it before any of the other guys come in.

yamamoto

omg ok so i feel like similar to some of the other guys, he’d shy away from using it in front of anyone. but i can see him using the tropical punch flavor ??

lev

tell me lev wouldn’t use the vanilla icecream one...like i can just see it. i feel like he would lowkey take pride in it too, like he knows that shit taste good.

seijoh

oikawa

this mf uses peppermint religiously. but this is oikawa we’re talking about so i think he definitely would have multiple flavors; definitely watermelon, probably chocolate mint, and for sure starburst.

iwaizumi

he’s kinda shy about using them so he sticks to the more lowkey flavors, probably like blue raspberry or kiwi. (pls gimmie a blue raspberry kith haji)

mattsun

i feel like he wouldn’t use it much, but he’d use the lemon drop flavor. loves using it during the winter bc of the weather.

hanamaki

another soda lover. i feel like he sticks to the coca cola flavors, like vanilla and cherry. (i love the cherry one omfg) maybe the root beer one too.

kunimi

bubblegum. that’s it. that’s the flavor. it’s always on him at ALL times. like that shit doesn’t leave his pocket, he once even accidentally washed his pants with it still in the pocket.

kindaichi

mmmm i think he’s definitely a berry guy, likes mixed berry or wild raspberry.

mad dog

yes i just labeled him by his nickname instead of his real name what about it- anyway. why do i think he’d use orange creamsicle on the LOW. like mf HIDES that shit. can never catch mad dog applying mf orange creamsicle chapstick. nope.

fukurodani

bokuto

omg ok bby definitely uses strawberry cheesecake or sour apple. ik they’re like two totally different flavors but, he just DOES. and he’d pucker his lips towards you every time he applies it like “BABY GUESS WHAT FLAVOR MY LIPS ARE” like ok bo c’mere then.

akaashi

he’s a simple man, he enjoys a nice strawberry banana lip smacker on his lips. maybe even pumpkin latte (during the fall of course) bc he’s festive <3

konoha

mans is using the dragonfruit flavor (i forgot if it’s just dragonfruit or if there’s another flavor combined in there) but, he literally just uses that flavor. like idk what to tell you. he just does.

yukie

ok i love her sm, i just know she would have strawberry kiwi and probably strawberry banana too. mmm yummy.

shiratorizawa

ushijima

i feel like kageyama, he would only buy the ones he sees at most stores...so a classic like mango or kiwi.

tendou

ohmygod, mans has a whole mf collection. like first of all, he has the fanta soda collection, obviously. then, there’s the candy pack with nerds, fun dip, laffy taffy, jolly ranchers, etc... he also fucks w any sour flavors. basically, everytime you kiss this man you’ll be tasting something different.

semi

another blue raspberry mf, but also i can see him using the dr pepper flavor LOL....i wanna taste>:(

goshiki

he’s a sucker for the grape flavors, regular of course, grape jelly, grape fanta, etc.

shirabu

mmm i can see him using pineapple. it’s a subtle flavor, but its the one he likes best. i don't think he'd use it all that often tbh, but when he does his lips taste absolutely ~fresh~

date tech

aone

PLSSS i just know mans wouldn't even know what a lip smacker was, would probably just be using normal burt’s bees like most people - till you introduce him to the wide range of flavors that lip smackers have to offer. he'd be like “hm, banana.” LIKE. either THAT or piña colada, he’s really trying for y’all.

kanji

cake donut?? do i have an explanation?? nope. i don’t even know what that would taste like, but i can imagine pretty sweet? just give him a mf kiss.

inarizaki

atsumu

PLEASE. he’d use the strawberry flavor ALL the time. like ok maybe occasionally the vanilla icecream too. but im so soft rn for ‘tsumu’s strawberry lips T_T

osamu

omg he’s such a cheesecake mf i just KNOW, so he’d have the strawberry cheesecake flavor. probably use chocolate moose sometimes too if he’s in the mood.

kita

this is NOT up for debate, he’d 100% use berry pie all the time. kita get ur ass here rn, we’re bouta smooch.

suna

pls bc he’s another one that’d only use it on the low. i’m feeling watermelon,, he’d always apply it before he sees you too.

aran

ooooo i can see him using cinnamon swirl, but also grape on a more common occasion. yummy....

extras

terushima

HHH sour apple for sure. he’d try to put on you all the time so you can taste like him too, he’s like “baby c’mere ;)”

saeko

bitch omg, why can i see her using the cherry cream soda one.... i literally don’t know where she could buy it but she’d fucking have it, like for SURE.

sakusa

STOP bc he’d definitely reprimand you for using lip smackers instead of a brand like ChapStick or burt’s bees. like shut up bitch...but also if you’re persistent like me, then you’ll definitely sneak the lemon drop flavor into his jacket pockets whenever you have the chance. you know it’s his secret guilty pleasure <3

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tooruluv · 4 years

Text

Kei Tsukishima x F!Reader ( part 4 )

❝ they were the sun and moon, destined to be together but only ever totally meeting once every hundred years or so. ❞

description: in a world where you only see color when you're in love, you've grown frustrated of the greyscale. but falling in love with someone you barely know was never something you planned. and, him not returning the feelings definitely wasn’t planned.

genre: soulmate au... except not quite. everyone is born colorblind. you can only see color once you fall in love (and it grows brighter until you see full color as the love grows). however, that doesn't ensure a lasting connection. it simply means that love exists in that moment, until it doesn't.

word count: 1,680

warnings/notes: nothin’ crazy!! cursing, of course. this one was fun to write!! next part will be longer, promise <3

prev | next

“ ‘cause i can’t make you love me if you don’t, you can’t make your heart feel something it won’t ” - i can’t make you love me, dave thomas junior

┏━━━━━⋇⋆⋆⋇❦⋇⋆⋆⋇━━━━━┓

For your entire life, you had always wondered what your favorite color would be. You would hear your parents talk about it with their friends, you would hear it between the lucky few who had met their lovers early. But you never had one.

It should be such an easy question to ask someone when you first meet them. It should be the most basic human answer, a description of who they are as a person. You’ve done research, scanned websites and took fake online “what color is your aura?” quizzes, only to become frustrated by the black and white.

You even tried to compare the shades of grey to colors. Your mother would tell you what color something is, and you would try to remember. It never worked.

But now, if someone were to ask “what’s your favorite color?”, you would simply tell them, “yellow.”

“I’ll wait for you after practice.” Tsukki told you the next morning.

He stood directly beside your locker, tall and still as if he never hunched over in his life. He pushed up his glasses and walked away as a way to conclude his statement.

You rolled your eyes. Of all the people on this planet, you’ve fallen in love with him. You looked up as if to ask God, or whoever’s up there, “why?”

Working at Blu for the summer was an easy job. When you weren’t glancing at Tsukishima, you poured coffee and lemonades and sold baked goods. It was good for extra money, and everyone that you worked with was kind and welcomed you with smiles.

Tsukki was sitting at his table, drinking his daily plain black coffee, when your coworker caught you staring. She was a third-year and had been working there since she was your age, so it wasn’t like she hadn’t noticed his attendance.

Wiping her hands on her apron (which are blue, now that you know), she said, “He’s cute. You should ask him for his number.”

You immediately jumped back, pretending to wipe the counter down. “Absolutely not.”

“He comes in here every day.” She said, as if you didn’t already know. “No normal guy comes in to a coffee place in the middle of summer everyday without reason.”

“We have good coffee.”

“Sure. That’s why.”

For the rest of the summer, she made sure to schedule you for the morning shifts and hang back when she sees him come in.

At practice, the girls were all discussing what they were making for the bake sale. It was a fun practice, full of team building exercises and barely any running.

Mai looped her arm through yours as practice ended. She gave you one of her award winning smiles, bouncing on her feet.

“What?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re thinking something.” You said, pushing into her side.

“You’re baking with Kei Tsukishima tonight.” Mai stopped when you almost reached the volleyball practice gym. “Are you excited? Nervous? Do you have everything you need? Chapstick?”

“Fuck you.”

You pushed her away as you headed to the gym to help with the boys practice. She kept making kissy faces towards you. You flipped her off.

Kei Tsukishima was not one to pay attention to little things. He was a big picture man. He focused on how things affected his future, about college applications, about how plays can be executed by the entire team.

Yet, when you walked into the gym, he couldn’t help but focus on a strand of your hair that kept sticking to your mouth.

“Are you coming or what?” Tsukki adjusted the bag on his back. He stood at the doors, leaning on one. You were picking up some extra balls for Kageyama and Hinata.

“Coming, coming.” You waved goodbye to the dynamic duo.

The walk was mainly quiet. Yamaguchi left before you two, claiming that he had a lot of homework to do. You didn’t know about that.

“You don’t have to stay after, you know.” Tsukki said. You looked up. “You don’t have to stay after practice to help those two. You already are helping us enough.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Why do you do it?”

“Hm?”

“Why do you come to our volleyball practices?” He kept his eyes straight. “You come from your practice to help us with ours, and that just sounds ridiculous to me.”

“It looks good on my college app.” You told him. It was his turn to look at you. “And Ukai has been close to my family for a long time, so it’s hard to say no to him when he asks for a volunteer.”

“That makes sense.” He said. “I couldn’t do it.”

“What? Have two practices, or volunteer for Ukai?”

“Both.”

You chuckled, nudging him with your side. He kept walking, but he had a smile too. He wasn’t so dark and gloomy as people thought.

He had a gorgeous smile.

The rest of the walk was in silence again. It was already dark, and the moonlight made him look ethereal. Tsukki really could be compared with the moon, you decided.

Every once in a while, you two walked too close and accidentally bumped into each other. Or your back of your hand brushed his. It just ended up in little laughs between you both.

And, before you knew it, you were standing in front of your house.

“This is me.”

“I am not wearing this shit.”

“Yes, you are.”

You were trying so hard not to cry laughing, holding up a pink apron that your mom used. You already had a matching one on. He looked at it as if you just offered him a can of dog shit for breakfast.

“You could not pay me to wear that.”

“It’s this or get shit all over you.”

“I’ll take the shit.”

Sighing, you reached to force it on him. He moved back, narrowly avoiding your attack. One more try ended in the same result. You were giggling now, and he was smiling.

“Just…” A struggling pull over his head. “Put…” A push. “It on!” And your arms were around his back.

The position was awkward, but both of you were laughing too much to notice. You had your arms wrapped around his waist, chest to chest as you tied his apron around him. He stood with his arms crossed as he let you put the fucking apron on.

“There. Look at you. So pretty.”

He pushed up his glasses and looked down. “Must be why you’re in love with me.”

“If you keep pulling that card, I’ll be sure you don’t get credit for any of these.”

“Now you’re just being cruel.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Tsukki, there are literal instructions. You follow them.”

“No shit. My question is, what the hell is softened butter?”

“Oh my god.”

Soon enough, the two of you were into a rhythm. You were baking brownies and cupcakes as if you did it together every day. Conversations came natural.

It was nice.

It wasn’t until you noticed the brown specs of cocoa powder on his nose did you realize how close you were standing. You were to his right, mixing whatever was in your bowl at the time, But you could feel his warmth from beside you.

He could feel you, too.

“The brownies are brown, obviously.” You said in the middle of the silence. “The cupcakes are brown with black and orange sprinkles, and white frosting. I thought I should tell you.”

He was silent for a minute. You thought that maybe you were annoying him with reminders that you were in love with him, or maybe you should’ve kept it to yourself. But then, he turned to you.

“You said that my eyes were golden brown.”

“I did.”

He was standing far too close. He was standing incredibly too close. And he was staring into your eyes for far too long. You couldn’t conjure up any reasons to hate him, or get rid of your feelings. Why would you want to do that when he is standing beside you, warm and brilliant and glowing.

Fuck.

“What color are my glasses?”

“Black.”

“And my jacket?”

“Black.”

Now he was standing directly in front of you. You didn’t know exactly when you turned, but you had. He was inches from you. His lips were inches from yours.

“And the apron?”

“Pink.”

He was leaning in. There is absolutely no way that this is happening.

All you had to do was lean in, and you could get it over with. Get it out of your mind and gone forever, along with the stupid colors that remind you with every second that he can’t see them back. All you had to do was press your lips to his…

You could feel his breath on your face. Your heart hammered your chest and everything froze at once.

“You must be Kei Tsukishima!”

You jumped back, bringing your body back to your mixing bowl. Your mom entered the kitchen, pajamas on and a smile plastered on her face. You pretended nothing was happening.

“Yes, ma’am.” He greeted. As if nothing was happening.

As if nothing was happening. Because nothing had happened.

“Mom, I know that it’s late.” You started to explain, but she quickly stopped you.

“Hush now. You spend as much time as you need. Nice to meet you, Tsukishima.” She sent you a wink, heading up the stairs.

You closed your eyes, trying to forget what just happened. But, when you opened them, you were faced with the worst thing that could possibly happen in that moment.

The colors gained a little bit of hue. His pink apron contrasted brighter against his black jacket. The orange sprinkles gained a little bit of tint. The greyscale filter lifted a bit more.

You wanted to bang your head against the wall. Fuck.

tag list: @vhskenma @elianetsantana @mini-eggs-reads @ysasian @hhwanggu @i-stole-your-juice-box @definitelynotbianca @denkithunder @smuttyanimeslut @yourlocalbabybird @theydy-madamonsieur

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vaxanova · 3 years

Text

A lot of kissing to catch up on

Luna insists on doing Ginny’s makeup before a Gryffindor party.

Luna had insisted that she do Ginny’s makeup the night that Gryffindor won their first Quidditch match of the season. There was generally a celebration whether the team won or not, so that either way they got some sort of wizarding alcohol in their system. Though after a win, the party would be close to feral.

“I don’t know, Lu. I’m not dressing up or anything.” Ginny paced the few feet at the end of her bed, occasionally glancing to Luna who had a rectangular case filled to the brim with makeup. Growing up with a mountain of brothers, Ginny’s makeup knowledge was limited and her palette a natural one.

She was nervous for more than just the makeup. Having Luna in her space always made her feel a little bit jumpy and usually had her ears blushing pink. So, to have her that close to her face? Yeah, she was nervous.

“Ginny. Our styles are not the same. I’m going to do what compliments you and the occasion.” Luna said simply, setting her blue gaze on her. That was enough to make Ginny slow, going over to perch on the end of her mattress and just observe Luna.

Luna was on the other side of the scale from herself. She was often seen wearing brightly pigmented eyeshadows with dramatic winged eyeliner, strange lipsticks, or the occasional heart on her cheekbone. And that was just to class.

“Okay then. I trust you.” She nodded determinedly as she said it.

“Good girl.” Luna smiled brightly, going back to rifling through her case. She enjoyed listening to the little oohs and aahs Luna hummed to herself as she found something she liked and set it aside. She felt herself relax as she sat there, gazing over the many different colored products. Perhaps she should have been asking Luna for makeup lessons the whole time.

After a while longer, Ginny decided she ought to pick out an outfit so she could match the makeup. Luna had a white high-neck tank top and burgundy red pants that flared out at the bottom to wear, accompanied by lots of gold jewelry, laid out over the back of Ginny’s desk chair.

She rifled through her own closet and settled on a back long-sleeve under a set of yellow corduroy overall shorts. Together they’d make up the Gryffindor colors.

Ginny thought that might be a bit too obvious of her, picking out a coordinating outfit with the girl she fancied. Then again, that girl was sitting in the middle of her bed about to get intimately close with her. Maybe the atmosphere of a party was the perfect excuse to get reckless and spill her secrets.

Still, she got dressed in the bathroom away from Luna’s eyes. When she came back out, Luna looked up with an excited smile, beckoning her over. “I’m ready!”

“Alright I’m trusting you, Lovegood. Make me look pretty.” She sighed as she sat on the edge of the bed again, turning her body in to face Luna.

“You’re always pretty, Weasley.” She laughed, picking up a makeup sponge and a small vial of something resembling her skin tone and got to work on her face.

“Ergh I can’t… you need to lay down for this to work.”

“What?” Ginny half peaked one eye open to check if Luna was being serious. She claimed to be mostly done with the makeup (which she also refused to give Ginny a look in the mirror at) but had been spending an awful lot of time trying to start on the eyeliner.

“My hand is awkward at this angle and I’m going to mess it up.” She sighed and shook her head, then moving to the side of the bed to free up the middle. “Come on.”

Ginny hoped all this makeup was hiding the blush she could feel spreading across her cheeks as she laid down and closed her eyes. Merlin this was strange. It was all she wanted—Luna hovering above her while in her bed, but not quite in this context.

“Alright…” She said apprehensively, pushing herself fully onto the bed and resting her head down. She fidgeted her hands, placing them to her side and then finally settling on folding them over her stomach. She couldn’t help but tap her fingers a little against her shirt as she watched Luna grab the liquid eyeliner tube and lean over her.

Luna hovered like that for a moment before shaking her head. Then suddenly she was swinging a leg over Ginny’s hips and sitting herself down right there. Ginny’s hand flew to her mouth to try and muffle the gasp she couldn’t help from slipping out. “Oh my…”

“Much better.” Luna smiled, leaning in close to Ginny’s face. They were so close that she could feel her warm breath tickling her cheeks. Oh Merlin, Ginny was going to combust any second now.

“Eyes closed.” She prompted, softly taking Ginny’s hand and guiding it back down to rest on her stomach. Ginny closed her eyes, focusing heavily on her breathing. Luna’s nimble fingers brushing against her face like that was making her light-headed. It felt like a minute and a century all at the same time while waiting for her to finish.

“Hm…” She heard Luna hum out, and then she felt those fingers again, but now brushing through her hair a few times, pushing a few loose strands away. “One last thing, okay? Lipstick!”

Ginny took in a sharp breath as Luna’s thumb brushed over her bottom lip. She didn’t dare open her eyes in fear of ruining whatever the moment was. She was sure this was being dragged out longer than it needed to be. Maybe she was imagining things, maybe her hopes were just high but…

“Ginny?” Luna’s thumb was still pressing down on her lip and she could feel her breath again, dangerously close to her own face.

“Yes?” She said barely above a whisper, the words releasing with a sigh as the anticipation dragged on. “Are you… are you going to ki—”

“Yes.”

Their words overlapped and then so did their lips.

Oh.

Luna’s lips were soft and warm against hers and Ginny could taste the sweet Chapstick she was constantly applying. She felt frozen for a moment, almost shocked by what was happening to her. But Luna started to pull back and Ginny reached up to softly cup her cheek in her palm and pull her back in, returning the kiss with more fervor than the delicate manner Luna had used.

Ginny captured her lips over and over until she had no more breath left to share. She pulled away with a giggle, running her hand down Luna’s cheek to her neck. She mingled her fingers with Luna’s long blonde strands. “Holy shit.”

“Indeed.” Luna’s lips brushed chastely over hers and Ginny could feel the smile there. She slowly blinked her eyes open to look up at her. She was afraid once she opened her eyes it would all crumble and fall apart, but no… there Luna was. Startling blue eyes looking back at her, smiling back at her.

A while later, the two girls heard the music start thumping down in the common room and the accompanying chatter and raised voices as the victory party began picking up. It didn’t effect either of them.

They did eventually make their appearance and consume their fair share of fire whiskey. First though, they had a lot of kissing to catch up on.

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pastelgoogie97 · 4 years

Text

I Thought We Said No Yelling At 3 AM? || jjk

~I wrote this because I’m crying over Jungkook right now, thought I’d share with everyone ;-; Genre: FLUFF Warnings: None, I think there’s literally like one cuss word in here Word Count: 2.5k Pairing: Roommate!Jungkook x CollegeStudent!Reader Info: Friends to Lovers :,) Jungkook is such a CUTIE PIE istg I love him so much, reader is sleepy and just wants to go mimi’s but Jungkook loves playing overwatch so much he has to SCREAM ABOUT IT ~Hope you enjoy, sorry if there are any errors, it’s literally three in the morning for me and I’m D Y I N G

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

She needed to pay rent. That’s what Y/N kept repeating in her head as she listened to her roommate Jungkook roar with laughter as he played Overwatch with his friends in his bedroom.

Y/N was a foreign exchange student from America studying abroad in Korea. The language had always sparked her interest, so when she was given the opportunity to actually learn not just the language, but about the culture? She packed her bags and her flight as fast as she could and got on the next flight thirteen hours away and over the ocean from her home.

She rubbed her tired eyes and looked down at her phone to check the time. 3:49 in the damn morning. The worst part of this whole endeavor was she couldn’t even get mad at Jungkook if she tried. Not only was he the nicest boy she’d ever met in her life, but his looks seemed to make it harder on her.

With one look around her room, Y/N realized she wasn’t going to be getting any sleep until Jungkook got off his computer. Normally, she wouldn’t even care. What’s weird is that she’s actually a really heavy sleeper. She could sleep through hurricane Katrina if it meant she could sleep for a second longer.

“I JUST NO-SCOPED REAPER!” Jungkook shouted happily.

Y/N giggled slightly, rolling her tired eyes as she pulled herself out of bed. She headed into the kitchen, her slippers lightly dragging against the tile floor of their dorm lazily. The bright light of the fridge made her wince as she pulled out two containers of banana milk, poking a straw through one of them to sip on. The other was for Jungkook.

When they both moved in together, they decided to lay down some ground rules. They weren’t really rules per se, just obvious things that needed to get set. They were allowed to have friends as long as they weren’t too loud, anything in the fridge was theirs unless the container was labeled with their name on it, don’t make a mess, or if you do just clean it up. But one that they both agreed on right away? ‘No yelling at 3 in the morning, especially during exam season.’ Yet here Y/N was, sleepily sipping on banana milk while on her way to Jungkook’s room.

She swallowed the sweet milk and closed her eyes before knocking on his door. The sound of his soft voice almost lulled her to sleep had he not opened the door.

In all his glory, there he was. Headsets hanging around his neck, hair messy but still fluffy and floppy against his forehead, and those doe-like orbs that she just couldn’t get enough of. She almost audibly sighed at the sight of him, especially since he was wearing those grey sweatpants that almost made her risk it all during one of their movie nights.

“C-can I come in?” Y/N spoke up quietly, her voice hoarse with sleep deprivation.

“Of-of course!”

Y/N walked into Jungkook’s bedroom, the sound of his door shutting behind her making her shoulders slump. She looked at his computer and saw the game still going on. She figured she’d watch and see what the hype was about. Especially since Jungkook had been shouting at it since he got back from class.

He flopped back into his gaming chair in front of his desk, but he didn’t pull his headsets over his ears. Instead, he turned around to look at Y/N. His eyes looked guilty and she could hear her heart whine at how cute he looked.

“I-I didn’t keep you awake did I?” He pouted. “I’m so sorry, I lost track of time and I didn’t even know that I was being that loud,”

She giggled and held her hand up in front of him. He stopped talking and he smiled softly at the gesture. Well, at least she wasn’t mad at him.

“I got you some banana milk, do you want it?” Y/N offered, shoving the carton into his hands before he could even agree.

“I was literally just about to get some,” He chuckled. “Get out of my head dude,”

The girl giggled and got comfortable on his bed, looking at the screen behind his head. It was a loading screen, he was probably waiting for another match to start. Her eyes scanned over the bright colors on his screen, reading each of the words to see what was so fun about the game or even try to make sense of it.

“So what’s the point of the game?” Y/N began. “Is it like Call Of Duty?”

Before Jungkook could answer, Y/N heard the sounds of his friends on his headsets roaring through the speakers at her comment. She smiled and craned her neck forward to try and hear what they had to say about it.

“Ask her if she plays video games, Kook!”

Jungkook looked up at her knowing that she’d heard the question. The way he was looking at her nearly made her forget what was being asked. After realizing she had been staring at him a bit too long, she shook her head to snap herself out of her thoughts.

“Yeah, I play! I’m not the best at everything I play like you are, but I’d say I’m a pretty decent player!” She admitted as honestly as possible.

“Maybe I’ll teach you how to play sometime then,” Jungkook suggested with a smile. “It’s basically a first-person shooter game, but it’s so much fun!”

The match started and Jungkook excused himself, throwing his headsets on to talk with his friends again while Y/N watched from behind. To say that Jungkook was good would be an understatement. He could play for an E-sports team if he really wanted to. His character was moving so fast and the way he was quick scoping everyone just screamed how good of a player he was. She couldn’t help but get lost in how fast his aim was and how precise his shots were.

As the game went on, Jungkook could feel Y/N’s gaze on the screen and he couldn’t help but smile stupidly the entire time she watched him. His feelings for her had been bad, but the second she mentioned she played video games too? He was ready to get on his knee and propose right then and there.

The room was quiet. Jungkook could hear Y/N move on his bed, and then her feet hit the floor. He figured she was going to head to her room and try and fall back asleep again. But she didn’t.

Y/N’s head found itself in Jungkook’s lap, watching the screen and waiting with him for the next round to start. He felt her yawn against his left thigh and he didn’t want to make any sudden movements. She was getting comfortable and he couldn’t help but dream about how she would feel in his arms. His head was spinning and his brain went cloudy at the feeling of the girl of his dreams resting her head in his lap.

“Hey guys, it’s late,” Jungkook began. “I’m gonna log off for tonight, but I’ll get back on tomorrow, sound good?”

Little by little, his friends started to agree, and soon enough, Jungkook was taking his headsets off and shutting his PC down. Y/N looked up with puppy-dog eyes, wanting to watch more game-play despite how droopy her eyelids were.

“You look really sleepy, don’t you wanna go to bed?” Jungkook inquired, his voice soft and clear in the air.

She stood up and stretched her limbs out, eliciting another yawn from her throat. She felt like she could sleep on a pile of bricks comfortably at this point and Jungkook could tell.

“I-I’M NOT TIRED,” Y/N shouted slightly, trying to make it seem like she wasn’t ready to pass out on the floor.

Jungkook jumped slightly at her sudden change in tone and started laughing, ruffling her hair slightly to tell her to calm down. She pouted at him and his heart soared.

“Hey, I thought we agreed on no yelling at three in the morning, hm?”

Y/N rolled her eyes and listened to him chuckle before protesting. “Says the one who was screaming since he came back from class and kept me up all night,”

She yawned again and felt her eyelids slowly start to lose the will to stay open any longer than they needed to.

“You’re lucky you’re so cute, or I would’ve raised hell,”

Her eyes were wide open now. She slapped her palm over her mouth and took a step back to register what she just said. Meanwhile, Jungkook’s heart was doing flips and his stomach was filled with butterflies from wall to wall. He smiled brightly, barely able to believe what just came out of his roommate’s mouth.

“I-I’m so sorry, that was inappropriate, oh my god I can’t believe I just said that,” She apologized. “I-I’m just gonna go to my room,”

He couldn’t let her slip away after that. So, he did what he thought was best.

Jungkook grabbed Y/N by her wrist, pulling her into his chest and holding her so she couldn’t escape his grasp. And before he knew it, he was stooping down to her height to press his lips against hers. Her lips tasted like the vanilla bean chapstick she always carried around with her. The sweetness of it all was nothing compared to how soft her lips felt against his. He swore he was in heaven the second he felt her kiss him back.

Her hands flew to the back of his neck, her digits twirling strands of his wavy hair. His hands slowly moved down to her hips, his fingers gripping them with such ferocity she was sure that he was going to bruise them into her skin. He was holding onto her like she was going to escape if he didn’t pull her closer to him, but somehow she found comfort in feeling this way. So vulnerable in front of him and falling for every trick he pulled from the book. He felt amazing. It felt so right.

When they both pulled away to breathe, Y/N couldn’t help but stare into his eyes, seeing a whole galaxy of stars just waiting for her to dive into. The way they shone even in the darkness of his bedroom made her swoon and she felt drunk off of how good he was treating her. How touch starved she used to be and how he so easily took all of that away and showed her what it felt like to be loved.

“I am so glad I moved in with you,” Jungkook admitted breathlessly. “From the first day we met, I thought you were the most gorgeous girl I’d ever seen in my life, other than IU of course,”

She giggled and shook her head playfully.

“You really love IU, don’t you Googie?”

He sighed at the pet name she’d given him since they first moved in, shaking his head with a chuckle before rubbing his large, chocolate orbs.

“Let’s go to bed now, how does that sound?” He offered, pulling back the comforter on his bed and patting the mattress for her to lie down.

“That sounds amazing,” She sighed dreamily, closing her eyes the second her head hit his pillow.

Jungkook crawled in right next to her, throwing his hoodie over his head and snuggling close to her. His skin felt warm, his body was just radiating heat and she felt like a moth drawn to a flame. He wrapped his arms around her and she couldn’t have felt safer anywhere else other than in his arms.

All of the dreaming he’d done, the imagining of how perfect she’d feel curled up next to him never could have prepared him for this moment in time. He thought all of the cliche bullshit about fitting together like puzzle pieces in their lover’s arms was so stupid, but there was no other way to describe it than just that, and he didn’t hate it at all. Not one bit.

“Googie,” Y/N began, the rumble of his soft hum against his chest making her heart grow in size. “What does this mean for us?”

He sighed and pulled her closer.

“It means that I finally have the girl of my dreams right where I want her,”

He paused.

“And that we need to cross out ‘No yelling at three AM’ on our list of rules,”

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