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luveline · 2 months

Note

I love your writings about the marauders, and I recently had a thought about the boys first coming in contact with a vibrator or any sex toy really. Not even a like smut thing but just then walking into a muggle sex shop or they made a friend with a muggle girl and they stumble upon in some way lol idk, just a funny thought that’s been making me giggle a bit. If you have any thoughts I guess?? Hope you have a good day :)

this isn’t smut but it is explicit - mdni please! fem, 1k

“What is that?” Sirius asks.

You get yanked back. “God, sorry,” James says, letting go of your hand. You’d been in a weird fugue state of joy with his fingers twined in yours; it’s the first time he’s held your hand. You can’t tell if it’s platonic or romantic, you can never tell with the boys. “Wait, what is that?”

“What’s what?” you ask, trying to follow their gaze. You’re on a crowded high street divided by a two way road. It’s so loud you can’t hear yourself think, and stopping as you have has diverted foot traffic around you poorly.

“There’s a cock in the window.”

Remus yelps a laugh. You smile, befuzzled, as he takes your shoulders into his hand and turns you bodily to the right shop window. “Oh,” you say. “Oh! There really is.”

There is a vast array of the aforementioned appendage in the window, and in a variety of sizes and colours. A mannequin in dark lingerie holds a fifty percent off sign to the left, while a poster brags a multitude of ‘stimulating pleasures’ to be found inside.

“What am I looking at?” Sirius asks.

You forget sometimes how sheltered they all are. They’d gone to a rather elite boarding school, and they all lived in rural England and Wales for their summers. This is as city as they’ve ever been, and you’d thought they’d seen everything there is to see by now, but apparently not.

How are you supposed to explain a sex shop? Better, why is fate making you? They all turn to you for an explanation.

“Remus, you’re twenty three,” you say hopelessly.

“We’ve only recently relocated,” Remus argues.

“You’ve known me for six months. You’ve lived here for eight.”

“And yet we’ve never seen that,” James says, pointing at the lingerie. “You’re such perverts in the city. Why are there rainbow cocks in the window?”

“Can we stop saying that?” you ask.

“Sorry,” James says quickly. “Lovely girl, why are the dicks in the window?”

“They’re toys,” you say, feeling a little part of yourself shrivel away in shyness, their eyes like heat from your face and neck.

“For kids?” Sirius asks, disgusted.

“No! God, no, they’re for grown ups.” You shake your head uselessly. “Are you messing with me? You’ve really never seen them?”

“We’ve seen some rather tasteful underwear in our time,” Sirius says, to James’ delight and Remus’ derision.

“Stop,” Remus says.

“We have to go in. I must understand these toys,” Sirius says, ignoring him with ease. There’s something to his usually nice smile you don’t know, some burning excitement that will likely end in innuendos and teasings galore for you.

You make your way into the sex shop, shoes dragging, cheeks hot. James and Sirius seem as though they could burst into laughter at any second, but Remus is more understanding. He offers you his hand when he realises you’re behind them. You don’t have the strength to refuse him.

They’re the weirdest friends you’ve ever had, but also the best ones. They love holding hands and crossing legs and laying half on top of each other when they come around to watch a film. You’re pretty sure you saw James and Remus kissing a few weeks ago, but they’ve yet to say anything about it to you, so what do you know? You’d been jealous, but each boy has continued to love on you just a little too much considering the parameters of your ‘friendship’.

This lies firmly outside of your parameters, you decide.

Sure, you’ve thought about them sometimes as more than friends, but they don’t know that. Can you be blamed? They’re all so handsome in awful ways —Remus classic, Sirius Grecian, and James devilish. James. You shake your head in an attempt to dispel thoughts of their good looks while in close proximity to lacy knickers, turning your attention to the ridiculous gasps of awe the two idiots are letting out.

“What is that?” Sirius asks delightedly, knuckling at a row of plastic sex toys, all with different functions.

“That’s a…” You blow a breath up your face in an attempt to cool down. “Read the label, Siri.”

“Most of this stuff is for girls?” James asks you.

“I guess so.” You poke at the pink packaging of a glass massage wand. “I mean, not always. I think anybody can use all this stuff too. Or most of it.”

“What about that?”

James points at a vibrator in clear blister packaging. “A vibrator? What’s that do?” He turns to you with a surprisingly innocent curiosity.

“It vibrates.” You don’t want to say anything else, but they’re your friends. They’re nice to you, and they respect you, so it’s not like you think telling them these things will put you in an uncomfortable position. “You know how girls have a harder time finishing sometimes?”

If they’re surprised to hear you say it aloud, they don’t show it. “Not in my experience,” Sirius jokes.

“So the vibration helps?”

“It’s very intense. It makes the… climax come much quicker,” you say.

Remus seems very grateful for the energy your explanation takes, giving you a caring smile. He’s about to say something when Sirius interrupts, and asks, “Do you have one?”

“You don’t have to answer that,” Remus says, hitting Sirius in the arm. “She doesn’t have to answer that, don’t ask her stuff like that, it’s private.”

Sirius’ eyes go wide. “I’m sorry,” he says to you, all joking gone from his face. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. Just forget sometimes that you have boundaries we don’t have.”

You’re not expecting such a genuine and sudden apology, because maybe Sirius shouldn’t ask, but you totally understand what he means. You feel like you’ve known them all your life. “It’s okay, don’t worry. I know what you’re like.”

“So it’s a good time, hypothetically,” James says.

“What do you reckon that feels like?” Sirius asks, already moving on.

“Sirius,” Remus pleads.

“Sweetheart, can I ask you, hypothetically,” —Sirius taps his converse to yours, grinning— “what do you mean, it’s quicker? How does that even work?”

You frown, “You don’t know how it works?”

Remus and James laugh like bellows beside you. They laugh so much the woman behind the counter glares at you all, undoubtedly tired of people coming in here for a laugh.

“Awful girl,” Sirius says, frowning.

You smile back. “It just stimulates the nerves, Sirius. I don’t know how to explain it. I guess it’s kinda like magic or something.”

“Magic can’t do that,” James says. Remus elbows him hard, and you’ve no idea why.

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herdarkestnightelegance · 14 days

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Bedhead

Pairing: Astarion/ g/n unnamed Tav

Tags: the fluffiest of fluff

Length: 1k words

Summary: Tav wakes up in Astarion‘s tent for the first time.

A/N: I'm really starting to enjoy this whole Fanfiction writing thing! Thank you all for all the love on my last fanfic Magpie Stash 🥹 👉👈

Once again I have to thank @nyx-knox for the thoughtful beta-reading, helping me to smooth out the bumps in the story ✨

Shout out to @onlyancunin. You know why ❤️

::::::::::::::::::

A single strip of sunlight falls directly onto your face, waking you gently. You don’t stir but slowly, you open your eyes. For a moment you’re disoriented. This isn’t your tent, is it? Slowly you look around. No, it’s not. And then you remember. It’s Astarion’s. And now that your senses catch up you feel him next to you, his arm laid sleepily across your stomach. You blink almost in disbelief at the feeling of him still beside you.

This is new. Yes, the two of you have spent many hours together, sneaking away for moments of passion both here and in your tent, out in nature, in a couple of caves and a temple even. But usually you went your separate ways afterwards. Occasionally, you had fallen asleep next to each other but you usually woke to find him gone or already awake and half-dressed, like that first morning after the Tiefling Party. Never had you woken up to feel him still slumbering beside you before. In his tent no less.

But then you remember. Arms pulling you closer as you were about to disentangle from him, a kiss on the delicate skin below your ear and a single whispered word. “Stay?”

So you stayed.

You turn your head to look at Astarion. But to say what you see is not what you expected would be an understatement.

Unable to stop it, the corners of your lips curl up in an adoring grin. Often have you seen Astarion meditate on this journey. Usually lying on his back, his head resting on a pillow, hair immaculate, the ruffles on his shirt laid out perfectly, face relaxed and his fingers doing that dainty fingertips-touching-thing you’ve come to adore.

But this was not that.

Beneath a mess of tangled sheets, Astarion is lying on his stomach, one leg stretched away from him and the other at a weird but apparently comfortable angle. One arm draped over you, the other one tucked under his head, barely resting on the edge of his pillow, which has somehow wrapped itself halfway around his head. He looks completely disheveled and … utterly adorable.

It’s the light chuckle you can’t suppress that seems to wake your lover. He opens his eyes groggily, their crimson color practically glowing in the strip of morning light that had also awoken you.

In the few moments before he fully wakes from his rather unusual meditation, you see it clearly on his face: a flicker of a pleasant surprise to find you still beside him. Followed by confusion. Then a moment of vulnerability. And finally you see his trademark cocky smile slipping onto his face.

“You’re up early, darling.“ he says in a casual yet sleepy tone. “I thought I’d all but worn you out last night.”

“Good morning to you too.“ you answer back, the smirk lingering on your face. Slowly, he pulls his arm off you and turns onto his back. His slender body stretches deliciously, and you roll onto your side to face him, unable to take your eyes off all of his beautifully exposed pale skin. When he eventually sits up, you can’t help but let out a giggle.

“What?”, he asks, looking down at you.

“I’m sorry - it’s just …” You reach out your hand towards that mop of stunning white curls that look like an exploded feather-pillow, but you pause, waiting the slightest of moments before actually touching him. You realize you’ve never really… touched his hair. Sure, you had weaved your fingers into it, tugged at it in moments of passion, but … fixing these beautiful curls seems almost too … familiar? You can’t help but worry it’ll bother him. “May I?” you ask cautiously.

Astarion leans his head towards your hand ever-so-slightly, signalling you permission to touch his hair. “I’ve just never seen you like this, that’s all.” His curls are incredibly soft, even in their disheveled state. Has anyone ever seen him like this, you wonder.

“Like what?” he asks in a relaxed tone but you detect the slightest hint of insecurity. Inspecting his beautiful face for a moment longer, you notice the red skin and creases the pillow has left around his cheekbone and the drop of dried blood in the left corner of his mouth from when he drank from you.

“… Tousled,” you finally answer, still unsure if the word captures how endearing he looks to you in this state.

He huffs a laugh. “Well, my dear, you too are looking rather unkempt.” he says as he plucks a tiny, honest-to-god pillow-feather from the tangled mess on your own head. The two of you look at each other - all messy hair, dried blood, squished faces and sticky skin.

You wonder what the pale Elf is thinking, what he is searching for while he is studying your eyes so intently. Because all you feel in this moment is fondness. Fondness for him, for waking up together … for whatever it is that exists between the two of you. And you think he maybe feels it, too. Because, to your delight, a smile spreads on his indented face, his fangs momentarily glinting in the morning light before the both of you let out a laugh. He is so beautiful to you in that moment. And your heart swells in a way it has not done before, to the point of aching within the confines of your chest.

It’s Astarion who leans in first to kiss you then, running his fingers over the bird’s nest that is your hair. “I do think you look quite delicious like this, you know?” he whispers against your lips before pushing you down, pinning you back onto the bedroll as his weight comfortably settles onto you. You feel him smile into your kiss and you know it’s sincere. “So let’s see if we can mess up this hair of yours a bit more, shall we?”

#astarion x tav #astarion fluff #astarion fanfic #ohoh herdarkestnightelegance wrote something #living the dream #astarion x reader #astarion fic #astarion fanfiction

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cupcakeinat0r · 18 days

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A Nerdy Middle-aged loser Miguel with a dad bod who teaches your genetics class

In celebration of 1k followers, I give you Pt.5 <3

Enjoy! - Cupcake

Since that day you kissed Miguel on the cheek, the dynamic of y’all’s relationship had totally changed, but not drastically. Miguel was back to acting soft towards you, greeting you upon your somewhat late arrivals, getting you little gifts that reminded him of you, and the subtle exchange of glances in class.

Professor O’Hara was a little handsy during your tutoring sessions before, but now he was even more so, your little peck on his cheek was all the encouragement he needed. For sure, his job was on the line since anyone could’ve walked in and seen the two of you like this, but it was worth the risk. Just as long as you both acted this way in his office, the coast was clear.

The head messages had doubled, footsies was played underneath his desk, and he’d even find any excuse to have his hand on yours while you both worked independently, sitting in peaceful silence with each other. You found it hard to complete the research questions when his thumb kept caressing your knuckles, yet, you never protested. His flirt game was rusty, his advances limited to innocent touching and praise, but nonetheless, it was adorable to you the way he tried.

After that day in his office, tutoring sessions became less about tutoring and more just about being in each other’s company. Instead of spending an hour practicing formulas, you both would mingle while organizing the lecture hall or filing research papers. Anything to help Prof. O’Hara, or rather Miguel, since y’all are officially on a first-name basis.

A new development was when you started staying after to help him grade papers. The two of you would use this time to talk one-on-one more, no one there to interrupt. Miguel was just as handsy during this time, too. As mentioned before, he’d find any excuse to touch you, and in the most innocent ways. For example, if he saw a strand of your hair falling on your face while you were grading a paper, he’d simply tuck it behind your ear for you, or when the necklace he got you was crooked or facing the wrong side, he’d gently fix it for you while you spoke to him about one of your current interests, following along with low hums and ‘mhm’s. It’d make you blush and stutter mid-sentence, inflating his otherwise small ego.

Miguel wasn’t a very vocal person, you knew that, but you can see by his actions that he really really liked you. You continued to show your appreciation by leaving treats on his desk, keeping note that his favorite was black coffee and a quesito from the bakery he showed you on campus. A pastry not too sweet, and goes perfectly with a cup of cafécito.

But you were just too sweet and Miguel completely fell for it. He saw how eager you were to help other people in the class, and seeing how willing you were to stay with him to help him with anything you could. He admired that. It also confused him for so long because how has no one swept you off your feet? You were literally perfect? Certainly, people have tried, there’s no way he would believe that no one has. It’s apparent now that the both of you share feelings that are beyond platonic, it’s just a matter of time before someone makes the next move. Given the circumstances, for now, Miguel is taking things microscopically slow with you. He doesn’t wanna scare you off. The last thing he wants is to ruin his chance with you.

His feelings for you were growing, which slightly terrified him given that you are still, in fact, his student, no matter how grown you were. He couldn’t help it. His dreams about you were turning less lustful and more wholesome. When he sleeps, he would see himself coming home to you, cooking with you, reading books next to each other, or even cleaning with you. Just mundane day-to-day tasks, only they’re with you. Maybe for now, they’ll just stay in his dreams. Maybe.

The lecture had just finished and you sent your new best friend, the transfer, away with a European farewell, kissing both of his cheeks. Without you knowing, Miguel watches on with an unamused smirk, remembering how he mistook your relationship with the transfer as a romantic one.

Before leaving the lecture hall, you strut towards Miguel to give him your now-routinely kiss goodbye (on the cheek, of course…). As you walk, you see that he’s crouched over his computer, tired eyes glossing over the screen. The fatigue of finals season is beginning to show on him, and it was a pitiful sight that made you purse your lips. Although it made you sad, you couldn’t help but let a small puff of air out your nose with how his glasses sat low on his nose. He never bothered to fix them, so you were the one who’d fix them oftentimes, and every time, he’d give you a small, “gracias, mama.”

You set down your bag, the thud of it hitting the floor finally stealing Miguel’s attention away from the blue-lit screen. He looks you up and down over his lenses, the small, fine lines of his face showing his age and you loved ittt.

“Sweetheart, as much as I love it when you stay and help, I’d be happier knowing you’re at home getting the rest you deserve.” He softly speaks, this version of himself that is so different from the one he presents in front of his class and colleagues.

“You worry too much, Miguel.” You plant yourself next to his chair, leaning down to get a better look at what on the computer has him so worked up. “Jesus, Miguel, no wonder you look sick.” You scroll through what seems like an endless list of students who signed up for office hours. With the amount that registered, Miguel would have to work even outside of his office hours.

From Miguel’s seated position, he has first-class access to your sweet perfume and a million-dollar view of your neck and chest, his mind wandering for a moment.

“Are you listening to me? This is ridiculous, there’s no way you’re cramming this amount of students… is there not another professor who could tutor as well?” the small raise of your voice is enough to bring his attention upward, not that that was any better of a view. Now, he was just looking at your lips, and how your lip plump makes them looks deliciously kissable. He imagined how’d they’d look if they were-

“Miguel O’Hara!” He blinks once or twice, gaining consciousness again, “Excuse me, uh, yeah, no, I’m the only one who can. For this class, I mean.” He rubs one of his eyes, letting out a sigh as he looks at the heavily packed schedule displayed on his desktop. “Anyways, it’s my responsibility. This was in the job description, so I gotta do what I gotta do.”

You roll your eyes in annoyance, hands on your hips, “Okay, but that doesn’t mean compromising your own health. There are healthy and efficient ways of doing your job, Mig.”

There’s that nickname he loved. He melted every time you used it, the familiarity of y’all’s relationship shining through the most when you did. He especially loved it when you were upset. He thought it was cute.

“Let me tutor some.” This snaps Miguel back to Earth, but this time, he’s in disbelief. “You’d tutor other students?” This was a rhetorical question, of course, he knew you were serious. He knew how big your heart was. He guessed he was just in disbelief because, once again, he was beguiled by the existence of a literal angel sent to Earth. He can’t believe he’s been blessed by your presence and friendship (?). You were so kind, so intelligent, so put-together, extremely gorgeous… you were utterly perfect.

“If splitting the work meant you got some sort of rest around here, then of course I would! Mig…” You grab the nearest chair and pull it to sit next to him, placing a hand on top of his. His hand relaxes under your touch, “You’ll work yourself to death like this.” You send a warmth onto his hand and up his arm you rub circles on his knuckles, the same way he does it to you.

“You’ve done so much for me, Miguel. Let me repay you, please? Please let me do this?” You bat your eyes, Miguel’s kryptonite.

Miguel turns his hand to intertwine his fingers with yours, seeing the genuinity in your eyes. He gives it a small squeeze before saying, “What did I do to deserve you, hm?” it comes out just above a whisper.

“Plenty, Miguel. You’re the hardest working man I’ve ever met,” you cock your head to the side, your eyes tracing the muscles of his broad shoulders, counting in your head all the possible knots buried deep in there,” Here, sit back, please.” You say sweetly, standing back up to travel to the back of his seat.

“What’re you up to?” His eyebrows raised, but he eased again when he felt your small hands massaging the crooks of his neck. “Sshhhh, just relax, Mig. It’s ok.”

He furrows his brows feeling the scrumptious pain of knots unfurling and tension melting away. You know you hit a good spot when he accidentally lets out small groans. You’re doing so good that it takes every thing in him to hold back any embarrassing moaning.

You can see his literal jaw unclench, happy to see him so relaxed. “Feel good?” You whisper in a sugary tone, Miguel nodding with his lips parted. With his eyes closed, you were able to closely examine all the features that make up his beautiful face. He was simply gorgeous.

“S’good mama… s’good…” he speaks under his breath as you knead out the stubborn knots on his neck. Once you feel like you’ve ridden all the points of tension there, you slowly work your toward his clavicle. He lets you unbutton the first three buttons of his polo sweater. With your whole hands, you apply pressure there, offering weighted comfort to the area.

Then you rub up and down slowly, the sensation of his chest hair tempting you to venture deeper down his thick torso. Due to the immense relaxation, Miguel’s head begins to fall back onto your stomach, so you step closer to give him extra support.

He hums when he feels both of your hands cup his face. You then remove his glasses so you can work on his temples. His eyes are still closed, but you can see his lips slightly curl, which makes you smile. You wonder what he’s thinking about,

Miguel is currently thinking about where he should get down on one knee for you. He’s thinking about what color you’d possibly want the cabinets to be in your shared home. He’s thinking about if y’all’s child will be as nerdy as him or as fashionable as you. Either way, he’d be the happiest man in the world. This train of thought is stopped by the sensation of your lips on his forehead. His heart stops as well.

Then he feels the soft smack of your lips on his left cheek, then his right, leaving behind a trail of lip gloss prints. Anticipating a potential fourth kiss somewhere specific, he slowly opens his eyes, your face inches from his. His head leans all the way back, resting against your stomach still.

It’s silent between the two of you. You both lock eyes, completely drowning in the other's gaze. No words were exchanged, but there didn’t need to be.

Seeing no other action fit for this perfect moment, Miguel raises his hand above him to cup your face, caressing your cheek with his thumb. You inch down closer, your heart racing. His is, too.

When your lips cannot move anymore without touching, in what would be considered “Spider-Man” style ;) , you both share a kiss, so sweet and innocent. The perfect first kiss. You’re the first to pull away, but not wanting to pull away just yet, Miguel pulls you back into his lips by adding his other hand to your head, extending the kiss just a bit longer. You weren’t complaining, you’d stay here forever if you could.

Feeling your knees getting weak, you shift all your weight onto Miguel, your hands traveling from the sides of his face back to his pecs underneath his sweater. This also deepens your kiss, so to deepen it even more, Miguel's hands wrap around the back of your neck. You both come up for air for just a mere second, Miguel breathlessly letting out a weak, “Please?”

knowing what he meant, slowly going back down again but this time, open-mouthed. Miguel groans into your mouth with the feeling of his tongue on yours, practically treating it like his lollipop. The kiss becomes hungrier with a nibble on your lip by Miguel, pulling on it while you get some needed air. It’s getting sloppy now, and your hands travel lower, meeting the softness of his belly. His breath hitches when he feels them there, half-expecting you to be revolted in any way, but your hands just sit there. In fact, you start messaging there as well, giving love to his whole body. Your hands drag up and down his whole torso with each wet collision of your lips. Your hands would go as low as the pudge sitting above his belt, all the way to up his knife-like jawline, and back down again, and repeat. It’s like you wanted him to know you worshipped his body, and Miguel wanted to show some in return.

Using his hands on the back of your head, he tapped you to pull away so that he could take your hand and guide you around his chair, pulling you to straddle his lap. “C’mere…”

Tongues are going down throats, moans are being heard, and hands are becoming desperate. The fingers tugging his hair, his hands squeezing the globes of your ass, him desperately lifting his hips to make some friction. It was like horny college kids fucking for the first time…. or at least maybe one of y’all felt that way. The other was just that. A horny college student.

There was no stopping either of you, except maybe for the knocking at the lecture hall door.

Both your heads snapped toward the thankfully semi-transparent, iced door. You scramble to get off Miguel’s lap, Miguel wiping your lip gloss off his face. You go to button his sweater and fix his hair as he calls out, “Just a moment.” You give him his glasses when you hear the voice of the student speaking about a tutoring session with Miguel through the door.

Miguel thinks he’ll go to the door, but he feels you grab his hand. “Hey,” you pull him in for one last peck, “I’ll take this one, mkay?” You smile up at him, a very dazed Miguel looking back at you. As far as he’s concerned, he’s floating right now.

“Anyways, it seems like someone,” you look down, motioning to the prominent bulge in his pants, “needs a moment to calm down.” You chuckle, practically gliding to the door as Miguel looks down at his excitement, wide-eyed and making his own way into his private office to… read about DNA Polymerase Replacement or something.

Want more Dadbod!Miguel? Here's my mastlist, bae!

A/n: I just wanted to thank you guys for 1k followers as well as all the appreciation on this lil story of mine<3 y’all so sweet n cewt, and it’s so much fun writing this fic n just writing in general! Ty for letting my creative juices fuel ur delulu <3 I also hope that this hot, wet, fat kiss made up for all the edging I’ve done, if not, sorry <3 Next chapter tho………….. but chu gotta stay tuned, yall hear meeeeee????

<3 Tags <3

@safixiovi @mukeovernetflix @mochikisses @miguels-cock-piercings @miranexx @bunnibitez @deepdiveintothedeephive @faretheeoscar @sillygardeneggperson @librababe99 @sariespi @little-lovelace @monstersimp @oharasfilipinawife @obi-mom-kenobi @hyjionie @maomaimao @pomakori @rxckstarss @mochimoqa @princesatracionera @queerponcho @walmaerts @froggygal @yaysposts @koko-1025 @kikaaauu @lauraolar14 @anotherprettyprincess @kaidxra @farrowroyale @pigeonmama @exactlyyoungchaos @fayeofthenightingale @s4dow @hartsucks @amberbalcom14 @wait2nourh @tatooieve @helen-j-magnus @ce3stvu @mintssanctuary @migueloharasoulmate @veyveys @theanbitchless @nebulositycloud @jh7ley @gothicteddybearhugs

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javiscigarette · 10 months

Text

Good Luck Charm

Joel Miller x f!reader (pre outbreak)

Summary: Joel loves the Texas Longhorns and you're just needy (someone please make an edit of him wearing any Longhorns merch im begging)

Warnings: smut (duh), established relationship, mainly just cockwarming, with a daddy kink, and heavy on the dirty talk, cream pie, ass play, whatever else I'm forgetting, no use of Y/N

w/c: 3.3k

A/N: Here's something no one asked for! This definitely isn't my best work but I'm in a funk rn and it's the best I could do! Also hello daddy kink apparently! Oh! And I hit 1k followers a while ago so thank you for that!!! So many hugs and smoochies for everyone ilysm guys 😚🫶🥰❤️❤️❤️ ALSO the AMAZING EDIT MADE BY @serenaxpedro !!!!

my masterlist

There were two things that Joel loved wholeheartedly: you and the Texas Longhorns.

Joel goes all out for football season. Each year, as soon as September rolls around, you rarely find him without his Longhorns cap on. In the car, it’s not music, it’s a live radio broadcast or a recap of the latest game. And God fucking forbid if you even thought about touching the TV on a Sunday or Monday night.

And now It’s a Sunday evening in September and the Longhorns are playing, which means Joel is completely preoccupied.

You waltz down the stairs and into the living room clad in nothing but his Longhorns t-shirt that ends at your midthigh. You find him sitting on the couch, a half empty bottle of beer in his hand with his eyes glued to the screen. He doesn’t notice you at first and you have to stand practically right in front of the TV for him to take his eyes off the screen. When he finally does, he rakes his eyes over your body, a crooked smirk spreading across his face when he sees what you’re wearing.

Thankfully, you caught him at the start of a commercial break. So, he leans back and pats his knee and beckons you over with a soft “C’mere pretty girl.”

It’s the first bit of attention he’s given you all evening, so you happily bounce over to him and climb into his lap, straddling him with your knees on either side of his hips and your arms draped around his neck.

“You look so fuckin’ good in this, angel” Joel says, his voice already husky with arousal as he smooths his hands up your thighs.

“Thank you, daddy” you whisper with an innocent giggle.

He looks up at you and cocks an eyebrow. You’re no stranger to calling him that, but Joel usually has to spend a lot more time taking you apart for you to use it.

“You gettin’ needy, sweet girl?” he coos, his hands sliding over your hips and over the curve of your ass.

You don’t say anything, just grind your hips down harshly, moaning softly at the friction. Joel chuckles at your eagerness while palming at your ass.

“The game is almost over, angel. Just one more quarter and then I’ll play with you all you want.”

You huff in frustration.

“But you’ve been in here all day” you whine.

Joel laughs again.

“I’ve barely been in here for two hours, angel. Think you’re just needy” he retorts, poking you in the side with a playful smile.

You huff again and tug at the curls at the nape of his neck as you roll your hips against his.

“Please?” you ask, your voice drenched in desperation. “I’ll be a good girl and stay still so you can watch the game. Just wanna feel you inside me.”

Joel eyes you and his hands tighten on your hips as you continue to move against his.

“Can’t say no when you ask so pretty like that.”

You grin ear to ear and Joel rolls his eyes.

“Needy and spoiled” Joel teases as he fiddles with the hem of your t-shirt.

With his eyes fixed on yours, his palms slide up your thigh, leaving goosebumps on your skin in their wake. He reaches the crease of your thigh and stops suddenly with a sharp inhale. He raises an eyebrow at you as he trails his fingers over the bare skin that should be covered by your panties.

You look at him, feigning innocence as you chew on the corner of your lip to suppress a mischievous smile. He narrows his eyes at you as he slowly slides a finger along your already soaking wet seam. You’re far too wet and swollen just from sitting in his lap for less than two minutes. And when he slides a finger into your leaking hole, he can obviously feel it. He looks down and sees the wet spot that’s already forming on the front of his jeans.

“Needy, spoiled, and naughty” he purrs, his voice low and gravelly. “S’that what you were doin’ up there all by yourself, babygirl? Stretchin’ your sweet little pussy so you could come down here and sit on daddy’s cock?”

All you can manage is a vigorous nod, a needy whine, and another roll of your hips, trying to get his finger deeper inside you. He graciously slips in a second finger with minimal resistance and lets out a soft groan as your leak starts to leak past his fingers and drips to his palm.

“Tell me how you did it” Joel commands calmly as curls his fingers and starts moving his wrist with languid strokes.

You whimper pathetically and clench tightly around his fingers as he slowly strokes your g-spot.

“J-just on my fingers, daddy” you whimper while trying to grind your clit against his palm.

Joel hums suspiciously.

“How many?”

“Just shit – just two.”

“Did you cum, babygirl? Did you cum with your fingers stuffed in your little cunt?”

Joel’s voice is so low now, his gravelly timbre sending a shiver down your spine. You shake your head and whine again and nose at his neck, hoping that a few neck kisses might distract him. But of course, they don’t.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Be a big girl and use your words”

“No, daddy” you mumble, dropping your head to avoid his gaze.

Joel moves a hand from your thigh to under your chin, tilting your head up and forcing you to look at him again.

“Why’s that angel?” he presses.

“Needed you, daddy. Couldn’t do it myself. Didn’t want to do it myself” you confess, your cheeks heating up at the admission.

Even after all this time with Joel, he still easily made you a blushing, flustered mess within seconds.

“My poor little baby” Joel coos with sarcastic empathy. “Just a needy little slut for daddy’s cock, huh?”

You nod shyly and tug at his hair again. Joel just smirks at you before focusing on the screen again.

“Get it out then, angel. Game is ‘bout to start again”

With a jolt of excitement, you scramble to tug his pants halfway down his thighs. Your mouth waters when you free his cock, his length hard and heavy against his abdomen. Your eyes flicker up to him and he looks at you through the corner of his eye, gives you a slight permissive nod then looks back at the TV.

You move to hover over him before you start slowly sinking down on his cock, both of you moaning in unison at the sensation of him stretching your tight walls. It’s a stretch, it always is, especially when he doesn’t get the chance to open you up on his fingers.

“You’re so big, daddy” you pant breathlessly, your nails digging into his shoulder as you stretch yourself out on his length.

“Don’t tell me it’s too much after begged to be filled, baby.” Joel chides.

You make a small noise and double down on your efforts. You whimper softly as you start sinking again, feeling every single inch of him stretch you out your little hole so deliciously. You exhale deeply once you’re full seated. Joel lets out a quiet groan and tightens his grip on your hip.

“God fuckin damn, babygirl” Joel says quietly. “Always so tight for your daddy.”

Your sink your teeth into your lower lip, biting back a moan at his words, trying to prove to him that you can be good. It takes a moment for you to resist the urge to ride him, but soon enough the desperation melts into relaxation, the feeling of being so full of him satisfying all your needs. He’s not even fully hard yet and your walls tingle and flutter around him as he continues to swell inside of you. With a sated sigh, you lay your head on his broad shoulder, and you let your eyes close. He holds you close to him, a protective arm draped over you stroking your back absentmindedly.

“S’this all you wanted, sweet pea? Just needed daddy inside of ya?” he asks, his hand still gliding over your back and occasionally squeezing your ass.

You nod and snuggle up into him even more. You could die happy right here, stuffed full of Joel with his heart beating against your cheek, warm and safe in his embrace.

There’s no resisting falling into the overwhelming sense of tranquility that settles deep in your bones. Your breathing starts to slow down as you melt against his body and your head goes fuzzy when you bury your face in the junction of his neck and inhale the intoxicating scent of fresh laundry mixed with his cologne. You’re vaguely aware that Joel is talking to the TV, the sound of his voice fading in and out of your head. But you don’t bother making any sense of the words. You just focus on the rumble of his chest as speaks.

After a few quiet minutes, he reaches over to the side table to pick up his beer, jostling you around a bit in the process. You make a small noise at the movement, his cock sliding just a bit further inside you to press against that spot deep inside you. You can feel every twitch and surge of his cock inside you, your body responding with a fresh gush of slick to each one, leaving you dripping mess in his lap.

Joel finishes his beer in two gulps and sets it back down on the table before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. You’ve been good so far, staying still and not moving like you promised and the game is almost over. So, Joel decides to give you a little reward.

He brings his free hand up to your face and traces the line of your jaw and cheekbone with a knuckle. You practically purr and nuzzle into the gentle touch. And as if he can read your mind, probably because he can at this point, he rests two fingertips, cool and damp from the condensation on his beer bottle on your lips.

You automatically part your lips, giving him silent permission to slide his fingers into you warm, wet mouth. He can’t stop the groan that bubbles up out of his throat as you suck his fingers mindlessly, your cunt clenches rhythmically around him.

He turns his head away from the screen just long enough to see your eyes rolling in bliss under your closed eyelids with drool starting to dribble out past his fingers and down your chin.

“Bein’ so good, pretty girl” he whispers, pushing his fingers further back and pressing down against your tongue, making a strained sound when you gag.

“Sound so pretty too gaggin’ on my fingers like that.”

You keen at his praise and reflexively roll your hips. He shushes you and tightens his grip on your hip, keeping you in place. You squeeze your eyes shut and pant against his neck when he resituates again, his thick head now firmly pushing against your sweet spot.

You let out a soft mewl, the sound muffled by the fingers shoved down your throat. Joel hisses quietly when you dig your fingernails into the backs of his shoulders. There will be some pretty marks there in the morning.

“Game’s almost over, sweetpea. Can you hold on for five more minutes? Can you do that for daddy?”

You nod lazily against him and try to stay as still as possible. You want to be good; you really do. But it’s a herculean effort with him buried so deep inside of you, pressing against all the right places.

Joel slowly slides his fingers out of your mouth and shushes you again when you whine quietly. You open one eye to watch as he lowers it behind you. You can’t see what he’s doing but your certainly feel it when he spreads your cheeks with one hand and feels where you’re connected.

“Oh, baby” Joel sighs, feeling how much you’re leaking out around him. “Making such a mess, sweet girl.” He whispers roughly.

He gathers some of your slick on his already spit-soaked fingers before moving his finger higher to circle your tight hole.

“Daddy!” you whine, lifting your head in surprise to look at him.

“Hush, baby” Joel commands. He doesn’t even look at you as he cradles the back of your head with his freehand and forcing you to rest your head back on his shoulder. He stopped watching the game a while ago, but he keeps his gaze fixed to the TV knowing that his lack of attention gets you all the more worked up. “Let daddy play with his little toy.”

His hand leaves your head and spreads you open once again. And all you can do is lie there, helpless, and desperate at the mercy of your lover’s hands.

“You’re so naughty, baby” Joel whispers, as he prods at the tight ring of muscle. “All you little holes are so tight for your daddy. Just for me, huh?”

You nod and open your mouth to speak but he starts pushing a finger in you and all the comes out is a wanton cry.

“Jesus Christ” He curses when you tighten even more around him, absolutely obsessed with how your body reacts to his touch.

You try your best to stay still as he keeps pushing his finger in slowly. But you keep clenching around his cock, and he keeps twitching in reaction creating a circular kindling effect that drives you crazy.

“Can’t daddy” you whimper pathetically, breath fanning over his neck, hot and humid.

“But you are, babygirl” Joel reassures, pushing his finger all the way inside of you, groaning at all the different ways your squeezing him. “Takin’ me so well sweetie god you’re so fuckin’ perfect.”

You moan again, the sound going straight to Joel’s ear and travelling down his spine as a hot tingle. You give an experimental roll of your hips, testing him and seeing what he’s willing to let you do. And he doesn’t stop you.

With his finger buried in your ass and his cock stuffed in your leaking cunt, you start gently rolling your hips, gasping at the new sensations with each movement. Joel’s chest heaves with each breath as you slowly build up speed against him.

It doesn’t take long at all for you to find the perfect angle that lets you grind your clit down against the patch of hair at the base of his cock. It’s too fucking much to handle and the pool of molten liquid in your abdomen is quickly growing as you hurtle towards your release.

“Oh, daddy please” you whine desperately between loud moans.

“What do you need, angel?” Joel asks like he doesn’t already know. “Tell me. Tell daddy what you need.”

You gulp for air, but you still can’t get a good breath. You’re so full of him. Every square inch of your skin is on fire now, every touch feels so good, his scent is filling your head and you can’t think straight.

“Need – fuck daddy! – I need to cum, I’m gonna cum please let me daddy please” you babble, now clawing at his shoulders.

“Shh baby it’s okay. You’ve been so good for me, lemme feel you cum all over my cock, sweet girl.”

You moan in relief and start to allow the pleasure to take over your body. Joel watches in amazement as you fall apart on top of him when he barely even had to move a muscle. You keep your face buried in his neck and Joel groans at the sounds your making so close to his ear. You start trembling on top of him as your moans grow louder and louder, letting him know you’re seconds away from release. He keeps his finger inside of you and wraps his other arm around your waist, holding you flush against his body.

“Lift up a bit, baby” Joel grunts into your hair.

You barely hear him, but the last working part of your brain process his words and your body automatically complies. You press into your knees and your thighs shake as you lift yourself up off of him just slightly.

The next second, Joel slams his hips up into yours, chasing after your tight, wet heat, already needing to be buried inside of you again. You scream as he pounds into you, his pace brutal and unwavering. Liquid heat surges through your veins and your hypersensitive walls grip him like a vice as the hot coil in your abdomen starts to unravel.

Joel doesn’t stop as you start to cum. If anything, he speeds up. He punches up into your g-spot with each thrust over and over and over again, desperate to draw out your orgasm for as long as possible. More hot slick starts gushing out of you around him and Joel can’t believe how drenched you are right now.

“There you go babygirl. Soak daddy’s dick” Joel rasps, his voice cracking as he starts to chase his own orgasm.

The way he can feel himself move inside you, just a thin wall separating his cock and finger combined with the feeling of you sinking your teeth into his neck is making him absolutely feral. He’s only seconds behind you. He’s been just as affected, just as turned on as you this whole time. He’s just a lot better at hiding it.

“You want daddy’s cum, angel?” Joel pants, his eyes rolling back when you tangle your finger in the curls at the base of the neck and pull.

You nod fervently and choke out “Yes, daddy! Please, want it inside” between long, loud moans.

“M’gonna fill you up, sweet girl. Have so much for you. Just for you, baby.”

You cry out at Joel’s promise and tug even harder at his hair and suck at the skin between your teeth. That’s all it takes for him to break. His fingertips dig into your ribs, and he pulls you down on top of him then empties himself inside you, unloading ropes and ropes of hot cum into your awaiting pussy. He holds you impossibly close and gives your moans a run for their money with the sounds he makes.

“Baby, baby jesus fuck you’re so good” Joel huffs as you continue to move your hips, riding out and extending both of your orgasms for as long as possible.

You’re both completely unaware of how much time passes as the two of you sit there, panting and trying to catch your breaths. Joel moves his hand from your waist to your hair, gently stroking and grunting softly as you keep spasming around him as the aftershocks of your orgasm course through your body. He brushes the hair out of your face and tucks it behind your ear so he can get a good look at your face, your eyes closed, eyebrows drawn together and your mouth hanging open as small whimpers tumble past your lips.

“You look so pretty all fucked out like this, baby” Joel murmurs.

You slowly open your eyes and look up at him with hooded lids. He gives you a soft smile that heats you from the inside out and fills your heart with a warm fuzzy feeling. You give him one in return, the corners of your lips curling up into a crooked grin.

“Thank you, daddy” you mumble, your voice rough and ruined.

“Anything for you, sweet girl” Joel says quietly as he cards his fingers through your hair. “Anything.”

He looks at you for a few more moments, wishing he could burn the image to the inside of his eyelids to look at forever. But the sound of the announcers on TV catch his attention and he flicks his eyes to the screen.

He looks back at you with a wide, giddy smile.

“Did we win?” you ask, your words slow and syrupy.

“Sure did, angel” Joel says happily before leaning down to place a kiss to your temple. “You’re my good luck charm, baby. Think you need to do that for every game from now on”

You giggle and let your eyes slip close again, finally fully satisfied.

Thank you for reading!! please let me know if you liked it I need extra validation rn

#joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #Joel miller #the last of us #tlou #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #javiscigarette

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haezen · 6 months

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pairing: lucifer x gn!mc

word count: 1k

summary: you and lucifer get into an argument, and you block him as he's typing.

set in obey me nightbringer (but there are no spoilers!)

To put it simply, you have been exhausted as of late. With the brothers running you ragged, and midterms approaching at RAD, your patience has worn dangerously thin.

And apparently, so has Lucifer’s.

Lucifer:

Did you forget something?

You:

Not that I recall. Why?

Lucifer:

Well, obviously you have forgotten. So, I’ll gladly remind you.

Satan must have been lent you some of his tomes. And YOU forgot to put them back where they belong. Safely tucked away.

They are scattered all over the living room along with the papers you’ve scribbled all over. Come over at once and clean up your mess.

Annoyance bubbled in your gut at the request — no, his demand.

You’re lounging on the couch with takeout on the way and thanks to Solomon, a hot bath (with bubbles) awaits you. If you were to go over to the House of Lamentation to fulfill Lucifer’s demand, the night you had planned for yourself would be ruined. With a glance at the time, you notice that it’s approaching midnight and there’s no fucking way you are leaving the comfort of the couch to attend to any of the brother’s needs.

And the last thing you need right now is to be on the receiving end of one of Lucifer’s lectures through text.

You:

No. Not now.

Lucifer:

It wasn’t a suggestion. Come over to the House of Lamentation now.

You:

I said no, Lucifer. It’s late and I’ve had a long day.

Lucifer:

And you think I haven’t had a long day?

What makes you think I want to come out of my office to see the mess you have left all over the living room?

I don’t think I have to remind you that you’re also our attendant.

You:

That doesn’t make me your maid. Listen, I’m sorry for not cleaning up after myself but I’ll clean it up tomorrow.

Lucifer:

I’m not going to tell you a third time.

. . .

As his message comes through and the three little dots pop up that signal he’s still typing, you decide that you are done for the night. You refuse to put yourself through more of this torture and to get under his skin, you block him.

You throw your phone on the couch, force yourself to stand up from your position, and head to the bathroom to take a bath. The time it takes to undress and get into the tub is almost record time. The water instantly warms your skin. It’s the perfect temperature. Solomon also didn’t forget to set the atmosphere. There are candles lit all around the bathroom which only adds to the flowery scent emanating from the bubbles. You slide down further into the tub until the water encapsulates you from your shoulders down.

You’re not sure how long you were asleep until the sound of a door slamming shut startles you awake.

“Solomon?”

The silence that follows makes your heart start pounding. It’s unlike him to not announce his arrival and peek in to see what you’re up to. With a pounding heart and a lump in your throat, you call out for him again.

Nothing.

The water sloshes and spills out over the edge of the tub as you move to get out. There’s no time to dry off as your nerves start to get the best of you. You snatch your satin robe, a gift from Asmo, off its hook and tie it around your waist once you shrug it on.

The urgency in your footsteps is evident as you come hauling ass into the living room. A figure looms in the darkness of the hallway and you move towards it without a second thought.

“What the fuck!” You shout, pushing who you think is Solomon back a few steps. He stumbles but regains his balance almost instantly and you flick the light switch on.

Instead of being met with Solomon’s gentle and teasing smile, you are met with the eldest brother in his demon form. And he’s furious.

Anger still swirls deep in your gut, but it’s nothing compared to the undeniable rage emanating from Lucifer. You’re frozen in your spot as Lucifer inches closer to tower over you.

“Think you can just ignore my messages? That you can block me whenever you please?” His crimson eyes are glazed over and a scowl is set in stone on his face. It’s at this moment that you realize there’s nothing that you could say to calm him down. And that thought alone absolutely thrills you.

“Why can’t I? Because I’m your attendant or because I’m ‘yours’?” You say defiantly, tilting your chin up to prove that you aren’t scared of him. “Last I checked, I’m off the clock.”

“Last I checked, you are mine.” Lucifer snarls. “Or have you forgotten that as well?”

“It’s pathetic that you think I belong to you and you alone, Lucifer. Don’t I attend to all of you?”

“Pathetic?” He tilts his head and oh, you’ve fucked up. He takes hold of the straps of your robe and grips them firmly before he tugs, forcing you to take a step towards him. He’s so close that you can feel his hot breath fanning your face and the air feels as though it’s been sucked straight out of your lungs. You’re hoping that he’ll release his grip on your robe, but he doesn’t.

He leans down to whisper into your ear, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine. “Shall I remind you?” Lucifer tightens his grip on your robe to further emphasize his point. “Since you so obviously need to be taught a lesson.”

You hesitate to respond, stunned at his change in behavior. But as he returns to standing tall above you, eyes piercing into yours, you know he’s still pissed. You, a human who is no match for a demon as powerful and infamous as Lucifer, dare to challenge him? As the Avatar of Pride, there’s no way Lucifer could ever let that slide.

“Apologize.”

“Excuse me?”

“Apologize for being an asshole and maybe I’ll let you stay for the night.”

He’s quiet for a moment, thinking. But you continue.

“There’s absolutely no reason for you to ever speak to me that way. Haven’t I been good to you, Luci? You deserved to be blocked for how you acted.” You place your hands on his chest, smoothing down his perfectly ironed button down shirt. His eyes follow your actions, as if he’s actually considering to step down from his pedestal and apologize.

“So won’t you be a good boy and apologize for interrupting my bath? And for being an asshole?” You grin up at him, sliding your hands down from his chest to grab his own, where they are still gripping your robe. “And maybe go out and get me some dinner while you’re at it, since you left my takeout outside in the cold?”

“Do I look like your attendant?”

“Yeah. Though I would definitely prefer you to wear your uniform.” You nod, unable to stop your grin from widening. He’s already fallen for it.

“Get your hands off me. You’re not allowed to touch me until you’ve apologized.”

He listens immediately and retracts from you as though your skin burns to the touch.

“So?”

“Sorry.” He mutters so quietly, you could barely hear it if not for the close proximity.

“What?” You tease, leaning in closer. “Say that again for me? A little louder?”

His gloved hands make contact with your face and his lips meet yours in a clash. His kisses are desperate, rushed, and sloppy which sets your insides ablaze at his fervor. He rarely loses control, so to see it for yourself...

When you pull back for air and open your eyes, Lucifer’s smug expression makes you want to smack him.

“Sorry.” He repeats as he lifts a thumb to wipe your spit from his bottom lip. “I just wanted to see you. You’re the only person I wanted to be with tonight.”

#haezen writes!#lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer #obey me x reader #obey me scenarios #lucifer morningstar #obey me lucifer x mc #lucifer x mc #lucifer x you #obey me shall we date

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hwanghyunjinenthusiast · 1 year

Text

✨️1K Followers Celebration Day 2: NCT bias wrecker - Jaehyun✨️

In the a.m.

AN: I was originally planning to post another fic today but, it got too frustrating so, I scrapped it for another day. Fortunately, my brain seems to have plenty of ideas when it comes to Jaehyun. Also, yay to the first NCT fic on the blog :D

Synopsis: Some harmless scrolling on Instagram takes a turn you could've never seen coming.

Heads up: Jeong Jaehyun x Fem! Reader, friends to lovers, Reader going through it because of her feelings for Jaehyun, Reader mentions wanting Jaehyun to choke her one time, Jaehyun being a little shit, mentions of facesitting, dirty talk, video call sex, guided masturbation of sorts (f. receiving), mutual masturbation, praise kink (f. receiving) and Jaehyun calls Reader pet names a lot throughout this.

Word count: 2989

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

You don't expect much when you open Instagram.

It's been a relatively uneventful Tuesday night, all things considered. Your laptop sits on your desk, reminding you that you very much have work you should be attending to, but you try your best not to pay it any mind.

Your mindless scrolling comes to a halt when you notice a post from Jaehyun.

It's honestly embarrassing how much just seeing him affects you. Your heart stuttering in your chest as you take in his carefully dishevelled, dark hair and his handsome, almost apathetic expression. You're probably reading more into a singular picture than strictly necessary, but the way his face is angled makes it look like he's looking down at you, and that only causes you to spiral further. Insides squirming violently.

It definitely doesn't help that you wish his hand was around your throat inside of his phone, too.

You're honestly just speechless. You knew you were really looking for ways to procrastinate if you resorted to Instagram of all platforms but, it's a blessing in disguise since you were graced with this.

However, because you're an idiot and you weren't careful, you like the post without thinking. A post he made months ago.

Would it be too much to hope for the Earth to open up right now and swallow you whole?

Panic takes over then. Maybe you could just uninstall Instagram, and he wouldn't notice or get the notification. Maybe you could just unlike it really quickly and he'd never even know-

Luck is not on your side, however, because you notice a message from Jaehyun, and you've never wanted to cease to exist more than right now.

Maybe you could just pretend you magically passed out seconds after liking his post. That wouldn't seem too suspicious, would it?

However, because you're still an idiot and a curious one at that, you open his message.

Jae💕: See something you like?

The fucking nerve of this man. You resent the way your body betrays you. Your face heating up considerably as you just try to comprehend what the fuck is happening. Is he...flirting with you? It wouldn't be the first time. Jaehyun enjoys flustering you, and it works more often than you care to admit. However, flirting with you when you're pretty sure it's around 3 a.m. in Tokyo seems like a little much, even for him.

You: Shouldn't you be asleep? Isn't it like 3.am. there?

Jae💕: Couldn't sleep. Then I got the notification that you liked my post. Isn't it pretty late over there too?

You groan into your pillow. Jaehyun doesn't need to know about you lusting after him so late at night.

You: Yeah, I was doing some work but, I'm pretty much finished for the night.

Jae💕: And you were thinking about me after finishing your work? I'm flattered, baby

Jaehyun has called you baby before. It's nothing new. Honestly, the pet name would make you cringe if anyone else was saying it, but, as you're coming to discover, apparently anything and everything he says and does renders you a flustered mess.

You: No! I was just scrolling, and I accidentally liked it. Don't flatter yourself

Jae💕: Sounds like denial to me~

You: You're so annoying 🙄

What you don't anticipate, on this already fever dream of a night, is for your phone screen to light up with his name. You only hesitate for a few moments before answering.

"I'm annoying, huh? That hurts my feelings," he teases. You can hear the smile in his voice, and the mental image of his dimples hits you like a truck. Though he said he couldn't sleep, his voice sounds gravelly and, you feel yourself squirm instinctively.

"Something tells me your feelings aren't all that hurt," you retort, hoping against hope he doesn't notice the breathy edge to your voice. Talking to Jaehyun always left you feeling a little lightheaded.

"Now you're calling me a liar too? I was being serious earlier. I am extremely flattered that I was running through that pretty mind of yours,"

Yeah, you're definitely going to uninstall Instagram after tonight. You don't even want to begin to unpack him calling anything about you pretty.

With a heavy sigh, you respond, "You're never going to let me live this down, are you?"

"Nope," and he has the nerve to chuckle.

"You really are so annoying. You're lucky I like you and you're cute,"

You were wrong. Now, you've never wanted to cease to exist more. Why in the fuck would you ever say that? Especially tonight? Yeah, sure, some harmless flirting isn't out of the norm between the two of you, but tonight feels decidedly...different. You can't help but feel you're treading a very dangerous line here.

You're half-tempted to just hang up before he responds, "You like me and think I'm cute, huh? If you wanted to ask me out, you could've just said that."

"That's not- I wasn't trying to- I didn't mean to say that,"

"You don't have to get all shy, baby. If anything, the feelings are very much mutual,"

That stops all your higher order functions all together momentarily. What. Jaehyun likes you? Is this actually happening?

"W-what?" Your brain intelligible supplies.

"You really think I just call everyone baby and flirt with them. I'm a little surprised it took you so long to catch on,"

Now that you think about it, he has always treated you...differently compared to your other friends. Johnny and Mark had teased you about it from time to time, but you always thought they were just being little shits. Guess you should learn to take your friends' word more seriously moving forward.

"You could've just been direct with me,"

"Where's the fun in that?" He laughs, but his tone shifts to a more serious one, "I wasn't sure if you felt the same way. I know I joke, and I tease, but you-you mean a lot to me, and I didn't want to jeopardise the friendship we had. I was content to have you in any way you wanted me, even if it was just as your friend."

You were reeling. You couldn't respond to him even if you wanted to for a few seconds. Your brain trying to pull itself together enough to say something.

"You know, this isn't how I was expecting my Tuesday night to go,"

His laugh is warm and throaty and quiet, and all the months of pining finally boil over.

"In case it's unclear, I like you too. Like a lot. Um, yeah,"

"Well that's a relief. I was worried there for a sec," god, you wish you could see his face. You know he's probably grinning ear to ear. Well, you could...

"Jae?"

"Hmm?"

"Could we video call instead?"

"Sure but, do you mind me asking why?"

"I want to see your face,"

You're sure that'll inflate his ego for weeks to come, but you can't bring yourself to care.

You're already proven correct when you see him with the world's largest shit-eating grin and the butterflies in your stomach flutter more violently.

His hair is even more dishevelled than in the picture, and you can see his sleeping shirt cling to his shoulders in a way that heats the blood in your veins.

"Here I am, baby. It's nice to see you too, if I'm being honest," it only hits you when his usually mischievous eyes are heavy with something else entirely as he takes in the sight of you on his screen what you're wearing.

"You're such a perv. I was trying to be sweet,"

"I'm being sweet too! I just have eyes. Also, I saw that look in your eyes. Don't play coy with me,"

"I have no idea what you're talking about,"

"Really?" His grin takes on a more sinister edge, "because I definitely noticed you looking like you wanted to sit on my face as soon as I popped up on your screen."

You're sure you look stupid with how you're gapping at him. Too stunned to speak and your body, once again, betrays you when you feel yourself clench at his words.

He's not wrong but, he doesn't need to just say it like that.

"You can't just say stuff like that, Jaehyun," you whine, and you see his eyes flash so briefly you're wondering if you imagined it.

"Why not? We both know it's true. It's just unfortunate that I'm not there right now to give you what you so obviously want," he drawls, lidded eyes dropping to take in as much of your generous cleavage as he can.

The butterflies shift lower.

"You'd let me sit on your face?" Maybe you're finally learning to just embrace the unexpectedness of this night. You two like and obviously want each other. Fuck it.

He chuckles again, but his voice is already a few octaves deeper, and you feel yourself growing slick. Thighs rubbing together in a way you hope is some level of unnoticeable.

"Happily. I'd do a lot of things to you if you'd let me,"

You're finding it really hard to think straight right now.

"Really? Like what?" You're too far gone for him to even feel ashamed how delicate your voice already sounds.

"And you were calling me a perv earlier," You're not sure if you want to punch him for attractive that arrogant, dimpled smirk of his is or kiss him. God, you really wish he was here too.

He continues before you can butt in, "Well, I'd take my time with you." Your blood feels molten as his lidded gaze takes in every detail of your face, stopping briefly to stare at your lips, "I'd kiss you until your lips were bruised and all you could think about was me."

This time, Jaehyun notices you squirming, and he pounces.

"Aw, is my poor baby already getting all hot and bothered just from me talking about kissing you and letting you sit on my face?"

A desperate whine tumbles out of your mouth before you can help yourself. Between him calling you his fucking baby constantly, what he'd do to you and the gravelly quality of his voice, it's no wonder you can feel yourself begin to leak onto your panties.

"Jaehyun,"

"I asked you a question, baby," his tone is still mostly playful, but you can hear the command clear as day.

"Yes,"

"That's a good girl. Why don't you show me just how hot you are for me?"

Honestly, you should probably feel some semblance of hesitance, but the exhilaration that comes with his praise would likely make you do anything.

You angle your phone as best as you can, the low light of your bedside lamp illuminating the visible wet spot on your panties.

"Fuck, baby," he groans and your pride swells at seeing him just as affected by all of this as you are.

"Can you show me how you touch yourself?"

Your unoccupied hand flies to your panties without much thought, ready to slip a few fingers past the waistband-

"Wait, don't touch yourself directly yet. Touch yourself over your panties,"

"But Jaehyun," you whine, sounding a little pathetic to your own ears, "I'm so wet, and it aches."

He shuts his eyes for a few moments, jaw clenching as he tries to find his words.

"I can't wait to get my hands on you," he mutters, but you don't think he meant to verbalise that particular thought. Either way, the feeling is very much mutual.

"I know, baby, but if you're good for me, I'll reward you, okay?"

You nod almost frantically, and he tuts in response, "Words, baby. Don't make me remind you again."

"O-Okay,"

"Good. Now I want you to touch yourself how you usually would, but over your panties,"

You do as he says. Drawing slow circles against your clit. The brushes of the fabric of your panties and the pressure from your fingers making your eyes flutter. More and more of your wetness drips out of you, making your panties stick to you. Your hips jolt up into your touch sporadically, quiet moans falling from your lips.

"You look so pretty playing with your pussy for me, princess," Jaehyun breathes, his own hand slinking down his body.

You keen at the praise. Adding more pressure to your ministrations against your sensitive clit, "Jae-Jaehyun ah please. I'm so - it's so -" you whimper, your train of thought leaving you with each brush.

"I know, baby. I know. You're doing so well," groans, his heavy gaze intently focused on the mess you're making between your thighs. His cock throbbing in the confines of his boxers with every twitch of your hips and quiver of your thighs.

"Can I see you too?" You ask, clamping down hard around nothing when you notice his arm moving. Putting two and two together and coming to the realisation that he's palming himself.

"Well, since you've been doing so well. I suppose you deserve some kind of reward," he says after some faux deliberation. Angling his phone downwards. Your thighs squeeze your hand hard, never feeling excruciatingly empty as you take in the way his cock strains against his boxers.

Considering the menace he's been all night, you expect him to tease you. Touch himself over his boxers until you're begging to see him properly. However, Jaehyun loves to keep you on your toes.

The air is knocked out of your lungs when he haphazardly tugs his boxers down. His cock smacks against his toned abdomen, flushed and hard and looking good enough to make saliva pool in your mouth.

"Too bad you're not here to sit on it but, I guess we'll have to make do for now, princess,"

Jaehyun is trying to kill you. That's what this is. An elaborate plot to stop your heart right here and now.

"Jaehyun, please. Can I touch myself pr-properly please? I've been so good. Please," you whimper. Slick walls throbbing incessantly when you notice his cock twitch in his grasp.

"I don't know, baby. How badly do you want to?"

"So badly. Please, please, please, I'll do whatever you say. Whatever you want,"

His eyes glint at that, and nervousness and anticipation course through your veins. Maybe he was more calculating than you gave him credit for.

"Since you ask so nicely, go ahead. Take your panties off for me, and let me see you play with yourself properly,"

In a likely incredibly ungraceful display, you impatiently tug your panties off with one hand. Tossing them aside and shoving your hand back between your thighs. Your eyes shutting when your fingers finally come into contact with your poor clit. Whimpers and curses and moans of his name falling from your lips with every circle.

"Fuck, you look so fucking pretty, princess," he groans and, you open your eyes to look at your screen. Fresh wetness gushes out of you when you realise that he's stroking himself. His tip now broaching into an angry red territory, and he's slick with pre-cum.

"I wish you were here," you whine out, increasing the pace of your fingers in time with each stroke of Jaehyun's hand. The obscene sounds emanating from your phone's speaker going straight to clit.

His chuckle is even more gravelly than before, "Me too, princess. Watching you like this...fuck. You're driving me insane," he mutters, hips jolting up to fuck into his fist. You've never envied a hand more than in this moment.

"Th-the feeling is mutual. I'm so-so ah,"

"Are you close, baby?"

"Ye-yes," you whimper, your toes beginning to curl, and the knot that's settled in your core tightening more and more and more.

The moan that falls from his lips is low and drawn out. His hand picking up its pace considerably as he watches you begin to fall apart on your hand.

"You're going to be a good girl and cum for me, right?" Oh god. The whine that's ripped from your throat is desperate and pitchy, your wetness drips down your thighs and begins to pool onto your sheets.

All your brain can manage is a jumbled mess of what you think is his name and 'please' and choked noises of pleasure. You're so close you can practically taste it.

You're distracted from your encroaching release when you hear Jaehyun's own sounds of pleasure. It takes a considerable amount of effort to open your eyes and, you're glad you do.

You open your eyes just in time to watch Jaehyun cum. His cum spurting onto his toned abdomen, parts of his thighs and all over his pretty hand. Strained, breathy gasps flooding your ears and the soft blush on his face, all combining to send you over the edge.

You try your best to muffle your cries as your hips twitch away from your hand. Insides spasming sporadically and even more wetness gushing out of you. Smearing your thighs and adding to the mess on your sheets.

It takes you both very long moments to regain your higher order functions. The stickiness underneath you and between your thighs quickly becoming uncomfortable but, you can't bring yourself to care right now.

"This is probably the most unconventional way anyone's ever confessed to me and asked me out,"

The laugh he gives you makes the butterflies roar once more. Considering you just watched each other cum, you suppose you have no real reason to be shy anymore.

"It's definitely the most unconventional way I've asked someone out. Luckily, the Japanese leg of our tour ends in about a week, so I can take you out properly then,"

"A whole week huh," you pout.

"Unfortunately, princess. Hey, I'm not opposed to more calls like this until we're able to meet in person," he responds with a wolfish grin.

You resent the way your still sensitive walls clench at the suggestion.

#jeong jaehyun smut #jung jaehyun smut #jaehyun smut #nct 127 smut #nct smut #1k followers celebration day 2 #1k followers celebration #1k followers milestone

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seonghwaddict · 9 months

Text

forget-me-not — kim hongjoong

in which the wall separating you and him is very thin, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

neighbour!kim hongjoong! x fem!reader. genre. fluff, comfort. warnings. a storm. wc. 1k

lilo’s notes. happy birthday @pocketjoong!! a little hongjoong drabble to celebrate sky’s birthday!! i also have a permanent taglist now so if you’d like to be added please let me know :]

listening to. round and around, jo yuri.

masterlist

you really hated thunderstorms.

as you lay in bed wide awake a little past midnight, you flinched as thunder roared outside your window, the soft pitter patter of rain hitting the glass not easing your anxious mind. usually you’d be able to handle it, but since you moved into your apartment only two months before, there was a minimal sense of comfort.

despite living here for four months, you hadn’t quite settled in. the furniture from your previous apartment was still on the other side of the country, complications with the transportation preventing you from receiving it until september. but, nevertheless, you did enjoy living here.

sure, the walls were quite thin and most nights you could hear commotion in the neighbouring apartments… but the complex was well kept and the people in the surrounding area were friendly enough. you had even gotten somewhat close with one of your neighbours.

the first time you met hongjoong was in a park just around the corner of the building 3 months ago. you had reached down to pick a flower, unaware of the handsome man reaching for the same one, vision somewhat blocked by the large box of utensils in your other hand. when your fingers brushed against each other, the two of you jumped apart as you realised what had happened.

“oh- um… you… you can have it.” you’d muttered, gesturing to the beautiful white flower.

he had merely smiled and shook his head, a soft smile stretched on his lips. “ no, no, it’s ok. you should take it. i think you would’ve reached it first anyway.”

still unsure, you furrowed your eyebrows and looked around in determination to find an equally pretty flower. finally, your eyes settled on a bundle of baby blue forget-me-nots, setting your box down and walking over two small steps to crouch and pick them. after standing up, you held the bundle of flowers out to him.

“you can have these, then,” you had smiled at him warmly, “they match your sweater.”

he bowed politely and walked away with a small smile after accepting the pretty bundle of flowers while you picked up your box in one hand and the single white flower in the other and walked to your new home. soon enough, you realised you’d have to encounter the cute silver-haired man more frequently than you expected.

this became apparent a day later when you stood in the lobby and called for the elevator to go up to your apartment. once it reached your floor and the doors slid open, there he was, standing on the other side and waiting for the same elevator.

“oh, it’s you,” you wanted to smack yourself in the face for not coming up with something better to say. but, nevertheless, that still got his attention as he glanced up from his phone screen.

after a moment, a look of recognition passed over his face and his eyes seemed impossibly soft. it had something stirring in your stomach and you weren’t sure if you welcomed it. it was then that you learned that he was the one who lived in the apartment on your right and frequently had his friends over who were sometimes so loud you could hear them through the wall of your bedroom. but you didn’t tell him about that last part.

from then on you’d see each other more often, whether it was in that same park, leaving your place as he enters his, small talk in the elevator.

eventually, he even realised how thin the walls were. one night you were scrolling through your phone in the comfort of your bed when you heard a loud thud followed by a “SHIT!” through the wall. You say up, confusion written all over your face as you tentatively knocked on the wall.

“you okay?” it took him a second to respond, looking around his room with just as much confusion to see where the voice came from until his eyes settled on the wall separating his and your bedroom.

“yeah, i’m okay.” he sat cross legged on his bed facing the white wall. then he spoke with a slight laugh, “i knocked over my lamp.”

after that incident, it wasn’t unusual for you to have late night conversations through the wall. sometimes you’d be writing your book, asking for suggestions and forgotten words through it and he would help you out. other times he’s be working on his music, playing it just loud enough for you to hear so you could give him a second opinion.

but now as you lay flinching and sobbing in your bed, everything was silent and you were alone. well… until there was a small knock on the wall by your head.

“you okay?”

you pulled the covers closer and nodded your head, soon realising he couldn’t see you. “yeah, i’m good.”

“really? because i can hear you sobbing through the wall.” you couldn’t see him either, but his face was so full of concern it was obvious he actually cared. “you can talk to me, you know…”

when you didn’t respond immediately, he thought you fell asleep. but your small, shaking voice said otherwise. “i-i’m gonna sound stupid…”

“try me.”

his answer was so sure and caring it nearly brought heat to your face. nearly. because as you opened your mouth to respond, another boom of thunder crashed outside your window that has you cursing loudly. he tilted his head, brows furrowing.

“are you scared of the storm?”

“no… okay, yes maybe a bit… a lot actually.” you admitted, squeezing your eyes shut at the prospect you just might have embarrassed yourself in front of your super handsome and pretty much perfect neighbour.

“that’s okay, there’s no need to be ashamed of it.”

you could hear the caring smile in his voice and could almost picture it as well. so, you relaxed. unsure of how to respond, you stayed silent.

“tell me about your day, y/n.”

you knew damn well he was just trying to distract you and talk you into forgetting about the weather, but you answered. and then it turned into another meaningful conversation as he kept your mind too busy to worry about the thunder and rain and lightning. your crying and flinches and shaking subsided quickly and you relaxed as you listened to the voice of the man you were beginning to fall for.

networks. @cromernet @blankjournal

taglist. @ad0rechuu

#bjnet #kim hongjoong x reader #kim hongjoong fluff #hongjoong fluff #ateez fluff #ateez x reader #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez au #kpop writers #kpop writing #hongjoong #kim hongjoong #ateez hongjoong #hongjoong drabble #hongjoong imagine #hongjoong scenarios #cromernet

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cowboydisaster · 1 year

Text

Your Protector

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

word count: 2.9k

summary: Arthur comes to your rescue while you're being harassed.

a/n: This is technically a reupload from back in November but I added a lot more detail and its now about 1k longer so-- Also this fic was originally a request: "reader getting hit on in a shady alley and Arthur rescuing her"

warnings: gore, blood, violence (not more than game), harassment, basically a gross, greedy man who gets a bit handsy

It’s been ten minutes since Arthur left you in the alley. Nervously, you run your sweaty palms down your jeans and slow your breaths. You couldn’t deny Arthur when he had asked you to scope out this job with him. He made all the plans, crafted a safe and efficient way to get the money with no one getting hurt. And although you trust him, your nerves are still on edge. The other outlaw had caught first wind of this score when helping a passerby on the road in Bayou Nwa. Arthur helped a man with a nasty snake bite, and was gifted a token of information as a payment. Apparently, the Saint Denis gunsmith is running a little underground gambling. Big poker games, with top players, betting more money just on one game than you’ve ever laid eyes on in your life. That tip came about a few weeks ago, and after some sniffing around, Arthur found the information to be true. Tonight, at 8pm, the cards were dealt for the tournament game. The big one.

You pace, nervously glancing down at your silver pocket watch. The time reads just after midnight. These games take hours, if not days, but by now most of the money should be out, and the players should all be here with their riches. Before jogging up the metal staircase and sneaking through a cracked window, Arthur had planted you as a lookout in the alley adjoining the gunsmith. His plan is: sneak in, play the part, and rob the bastards blind. They’ll probably be too wasted on hooch to even notice him slipping away with their life savings. Your job is strictly to keep watch, which Arthur reassured you is a very important job, despite your reservations. You glance at your pocket watch again, seeing that Arthur has now been in there for thirteen minutes. Shoving the watch into your pocket to get rid of the distraction, you glance around the alley. It's dark, and eerie. The pass way is long and narrow, with rotting wooden crates lining the walls and rats that run and squeak, causing you to jump every now and again. Water drips down from the metal overhangs, driving you mad with their constant noise.

Anxiety pools in your gut as the shadows made by the rats and the crates shift, and the walls seem to move in on you. It’s all an illusion of course, but your heart rate picks up as the shadows shift and taunt you. A few times you scare yourself, looking at the shadows for too long until they begin to morph. So, to preserve your sanity, you distract yourself, pulling your cattleman from its holster. You grab a bottle of gun oil and a little rag from your satchel, humming to yourself as you wipe down the barrel of the gun, making sure to get in between the little grooves. Arthur had bought you this gun, and had it engraved with ornate flowers. It’s one of your most dear possessions. You still feel incredibly uneasy, like you’re being watched, followed. But you tell yourself that your mind is just playing tricks on you. You focus on the gun, keeping enough awareness of your surroundings to know if the law is coming. With a satisfied smirk, you hold your gun under the flickering street light, admiring its clean, shiny state. Suddenly the gun is knocked away from your hand, and you gasp, having only a moment to watch it fall onto the cobblestone before whipping around in shock.

A beast of a man, easily over six feet tall with broad shoulders, towers over you, sneering down at you with yellow teeth and breath that reeks of liquor. He scares the hell out of you, and you back away quickly. In one large step backwards, with a loud gasp, your back hits the alley’s brick wall. The man steps forward, sandwiching you between himself and the wall. You feel so sick, so naive right now. When you had agreed to do this job, you’d expected to run into some nasty street kids and oversized rats at the worst, but oh were you wrong. Somehow the other type of vermin roaming Saint Denis had slipped your mind: the men like this one. The men who drink their fill and search the streets for a cheap woman to spend the night with, or any woman to spend the night with. He is the exact type of man you would expect to be at an illegal poker game, with greasy hair, beady eyes, and sharp features that remind you of a predator. Your back is still pressed against the wall, and the man in front of you corners you by bringing a hand to either side of your head on the wall. You’re trapped. You glance down to your cattleman on the street, and damningly realize you can’t reach it. When the man opens his mouth to speak, the acrid, alcoholic smell of his breath makes you gag.

“Say, what’s a pretty lil’ thing like you doin’ in these nasty parts of town all by yourself?” His breath is hot on your face, and the smell of his sweat chokes you. You think about screaming for help, but all that would do is tie a noose around Arthur’s neck. Yelling isn’t an option. One of his large hands comes up to your face and he gently caresses your cheek with the back of his index finger. You tear your face away from his touch, fuming. You look angry and tough, but under it all you’re terrified.

“I'm not alone, got a friend in the gunsmith, he should be back any second.” you growl, staring the man right in his colorless eyes. Slowly, he turns his head in both directions, scanning the gunsmith doors and the stairwell that leads to the attic. When he turns his head back to you, there is a sickening grin on it.

“Well, sweet thing, I don’t see anyone… do you?” The man chuckles deeply, threateningly, “It can be real dangerous around here if you ain’t got someone to keep an eye on you…” He snarls, a mock smile on his lips that causes your stomach to flip with disgust. The man leans down, only inches away from your face as you shove your body back against the brick wall, wishing it would swallow you whole.

“The names’ Levi… care to tell me yours, pretty girl?” Levi sneers, eyeing your scowl.

Your eyes are glued to the gunsmith’s side door, silently begging Arthur to return. You know that you can’t fight this man off. He’s much bigger than you, and even in his drunken state, he’s stronger than you are. His hands grip your forearms, pushing you back against the brick wall and you yelp.

“I don’t need you protectin’ me, now let me go!” You yell into his face, shoving against the brute as hard as you can. Levi only laughs, pushing closer to you. His weight, sandwiching you against the wall, knocks the air out of your lungs as you attempt to push him away. He only laughs, and the smell of his alcohol ridden breath once again makes you gag.

“Why don’t you come wit’ me? I’ll show ya a real good time. Do you think a lil’ thing like you can handle me, precious?”

Eyes squinted shut, you silently beg Arthur or anyone to help you.

— — — —

Arthur scans the room once more before swiping the cash off of the table and sliding it into his leather saddle bag. Most of the gamblers have passed out, but the ones who are still conscious are far too drunk to notice Arthur slipping by, knocking out a couple of guards and stealing their wealth. It's dark in the room, most of the candles have burned out already, and Arthur isn’t seen as he crouches, expert fingers grappling and pickpocketing as he goes. There is a little makeshift bar towards the window he had crawled in through, and on top of it rests a thick clip of money. Arthur eyes it, stepping towards the window to snatch the clip. Just as he passes the window, a breeze rolls in, and carried on it is your voice.

“Let me go!” You growl, and Arthur peeks out the window, face pale as his heart drops. He sees a big bastard, towering over you and holding you against the wall, yelling in your face. For a second Arthur sees nothing but red.

Arthur panics, filled with both rage and fear. The cash clips that he has not yet collected are discarded on the counter as Arthur runs down the interior staircase. It's quicker than crawling through the window and dealing with the ladders. Arthur’s mind is clouded with a primal instinct to protect you as he bolts down the steps, skipping multiple as he goes.

“Shit, shit- Shit!” Arthur growls, pushing up against the main door to the gunsmith. It doesn't budge, presumably locked for the night. And although Arthur would only have to reach down and unlock the fine wooden door, he wastes no time, kicking the wood with such force that it swings open, nearly knocked off the goddamn hinges. Arthur fumes, stepping through the broken door, and dropping the saddle bag onto the ground. You’re only right across the alley now.

His eyes meet yours, and you look so small compared to the bastard who is bothering you. Arthur doesn’t hesitate for a second, coming up behind Levi in a few long strides and grabbing him by the back of his collar. Even though Levi is large in comparison to you, he is not nearly as big as Arthur.

Arthur drags Levi back by his collar with an indescribable rage, and slams him into the brick wall, opposite of you. A sound erupts from Arthur, that could only be compared to a growl as he wraps his hand around Levi’s throat. His other fist is raised and ready to beat the life out of the bastard. You breathe deeply, sinking against the floor to catch your breath and reel over what’s playing out before you., relief washing over you because Arthur’s here.

“What in the hell were you just sayin’ to her?!” Arthur’s voice is deep, filled to the core with rage, the kind that can’t be stopped or repressed. His eyes are dark, and despite the love and the comfort that they have provided you with, Arthur looks terrifying now.

You can do nothing but catch your breath and watch the scene play out. You’re still in shock, mindlessly rubbing your hand over the spot on your arm that your perpetrator was gripping onto so tightly. You wince, realizing that there will definitely be bruises there later.

Levi cracks a sickening smile before responding to Arthur,

“Ah, so you’re the one this whore is fuc-” Levi’s words are cut short as Arthur’s fist meets his face. There is so much force and anger behind the punch that you are surprised Levi is still conscious. A loud crack snaps through the air- you realize that it is Levi’s nose shattering as he screams out in pain. Arthur is fuming, his shoulders rising up and down quickly as he attempts to stop himself from killing this piece of shit. He puts his fist down, but keeps his hand on Levi’s throat. A bruise in the shape of Arthur’s knuckles is already starting to form on Levi’s face. His greasy hair is now falling down in front of his eyes as he spits blood onto the ground. You’re not sure if it’s because he’s drunk, stupid or both, but he attempts to get under Arthur’s skin one last time.

“You don’t feel like sharin, do you mister?” Levi pauses, spitting some more blood to the ground and eyeing you up and down before continuing, “Can’t say I blame you partner… If I had a woman wit a body like that I’d never-”

Once again Levi is shut up by Arthur’s fists. Except for this time Arthur doesn’t stop. Something snaps inside the outlaw, like he’s gone completely feral. Arthur shoves Levi to the ground, straddling him while landing punch after punch to his face. You sit against the wall in shock, wincing at the wet crunch and snap of bones breaking. Arthur’s chest is heaving as he beats Levi senselessly. You’re not sure how long it goes on, but it feels like forever.

Eventually, Levi stops resisting the blows, and Arthur gets off the half dead man, still enraged. He stands, fuming.

“You piece of shit, don’t you ever put your goddamn hands on her again- and if you ever talk to her, or any woman, like that again, I'll do alot worse than this, you hear?!” Arthur all but snarls.

Levi doesn’t respond, and Arthur kicks him in the ribs for it.

“Do. You. Hear?” Arthur growls, low and deep.

You’re honestly not sure if Levi is even alive, or capable of responding. His face is beaten in, red and smashed, he's not even recognizable. You breathe a little easier when you see the beaten man nod his head up and down. He’s an awful bastard, but you’re relieved that Arthur didn’t kill him.

“Good.” Arthur hisses with an icy tone that you’ve never heard before.

Stepping over Levi, Arthur leans down into a crouch in front of you and his features soften. He gently pulls the hair away from your ears, checking your face before running his green eyes over your body, checking that you’re not hurt. His face is pinched up in concern, and the hands that check over you are bruised and stained with the blood of your perpetrator. After doing a quick check over, Arthur grabs your gun. His gentle hands meet your waist before he helps you to stand up. As soon as you’re on your feet, without another word, he grips your hand, picks up the money bag and pulls you deeper into the alley. After some turns and bends, Arthur stops in a secluded spot.

Arthur deems you both far enough away to be involved with any trouble from the law, and he turns to face you. His hands come up to your cheeks, and with care he gently turns your face to both sides, checking you over more thoroughly.

“How badly do you hurt?” Arthur asks, rolling up your sleeves to assess the forming purple splotches along your arm.

When he sees them, his jaw sets into a hard, cold state as he breathes deeply to control his rage. Your eyes flutter up to his own, and you tread on thin ice, not wanting him to go back and kill the man.

“Im okay Arthur, really, I-” You start, tears pooling in your eyes. Arthur watches them form and then wipes them away with his thumb.

“Now don’t lie for my sake, he hurt you? More than this?” Arthur’s hand is gently holding your bruised arm, and the other cups your cheek. His eyes speak of an ache, of regret, you know he blames himself for leaving you in the alley, and you rush to reassure him.

“No, no he didn't hurt me, shook me up a little, but nothing bad.” You whisper, catching those soft green eyes again. Arthur looks down, and his body tightens as he avoids your eyes, terrified to ask the next question.

“Did he- did he do anythin..?” Arthur looks up, eyes locked on to yours to assess your answer, and you flinch, realizing what he’s asking. God, it could have been so much worse.

“Arthur, no, I promise, I’m okay. Really.”

He nods, seemingly accepting your truth with a breath of relief as his tongue darts out over his lips.

“Fuckin’ bastard, I should’ve done a lot worse to him.” Arthur curses, stepping away to pace lightly.

You step forward and put a hand on his warm chest to quell his rage.

“No, no you shouldn’t have. He got the message Arthur.”

Arthur glances up at you for a few moments, his hands resting on his belt before he steps forward, and pulls you toward him by your shoulder.

“Just… C’mere sweetheart.” He whispers.

You step towards him, grateful for the way he envelopes you into his arms. He’s so big, so warm. It’s a comfort that you didn’t realize you needed in the moment as Arthur kisses the top of your head. Everything is perfect, just in the moments that he holds you like this.

“Y’know, I worry about you sweetheart. Don’t want you gettin’ hurt or bein’ made uncomfortable by bastards like him.” Arthur mutters into your hair, still hugging you tightly.

You wrap your arms tighter around his torso, nuzzling into his chest.

“Well that’s why I have you.” You counter, smiling into Arthur’s warmth. He chuckles, and you’re glad to hear it.

“I'll always be your protector, darlin.” Arthur says before pressing a slow kiss to your temple.

#arthur morgan fluff #protective arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan #arthur morgan fanfiction

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thek1ngtalks · 2 years

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Prompt: Touching your soulmate leaves a temporary mark that fades after a few hours.

Dream, Tommy, Niki, Wilbur, Eret, Quackity, Ranboo, Fundy

Dream loves leaving thumb stokes, swirling over your cheekbones and brushing down your arms. His hand leaves neon green stains and sometimes he traces obscenes pictures onto your palms just to make you laugh when you notice a few minutes later.

Tommy leaves pastel red smears. Across your back and neck, where he had pulled you closer with his arm. Handprints against your palms, because he really likes holding your hand. He'll draw hearts on your arms and dicks on your face if you fall asleep near him.

Niki draws flowers on your crown. A gentle watercolor pink. Hand prints on your face from where she cupped it, just to admire at you. Your hands are entirely pink because she loves fiddling with them.

Wilbur's handprints are on your shoulders, because he sometimes just claspes them to lead you around in public. They are a soft and dewy blue, a little bit of sunshine. There are spots of blue peaking through your hair because he also likes setting his chin on your head, patting you, pressing his thumb to your crown in a mock simba moment.

Eret is a bright pink mixed with soft hues of purple. They swirl together around your waist. When his hands trail mindlessly over your arms, they're stained magenta for hours. He drops soft kisses on your nose and leaves a bright pink lip stain on your eyelids.

Quackity presses his arms against yours, leaving dewy yellows and deep blues marks that layers over themselves. There are soft brushes across your forehead and over your ears after he tries to push away every strand of baby hair's blocking your face. There are imprints of his head from when he slept across your lap.

Ranboo leaves red and green fingerprints on the back of your hands and arms. Brushes across your back, a few odd spots on your legs when he pokes you with his feet. He likes leaving two stains under your eyes, like eyebags but distinctly unnatural.

Fundy has handprints on your back and knees, because he likes slapping them just to mess with you. Soft rising sun orange lines tracing over your knuckles, wrapping around your palms. A blob with a tail rest on your collarbone, you think he mightve been trying to draw a fox.

{《☆》}

[I really quickly wrote this during passing periods and I will admit, I am starved for affection. This is definitely a cry for help. Please feed me internet likes to curb this horrible medical condition plaguing me.]

[Anyways I have a whole hunking load of soulmate prompts that I apparently wrote down months ago for 500 followers special that I never ended up doing and is now dying in my main acc's drafts. I might go through a few more for fun like I did this one, with short answer prompts for a handful of cc's. Or maybe I'll write official ones longer than 1k, only God knows (and me ig).

[L0v3, k1ng]

Masterlist

Main Acc: @k1ng0fn0b0dy

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h00nerz · 1 year

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murphy’s law!

masterlist | 1k celebration

pairing: choi beomgyu x gn!reader

genre: angst, fluff, high school au, troublemaker!beomgyu, stuco president!reader, kind of one sided enemies to lovers if you squint

word count: 3.2k (im so sorry)

warnings: none afaik? just burnt out reader

prompt(s): #5 — “why are you crying?”

requested: “hi! congratulations on 1k followers!!! for the event, can i have prompt 5 with beomgyu? what i had on mind was like highschool au and reader just had a bad day or smth and had to stay after school to clean, and started crying in the classroom alone and beomgyu was also in the school and heard reader crying and found that it was his long time crush? i hope this makes sense! sorry if this was too long too😓 thank you in advance!!♥️♥️” — @loveliii

authors note: omg the first drabble of the celebration... except apparently i can’t write drabbles so it’s more of a oneshot plz forgive me.

MURPHY’S LAW STATES: everything that can go wrong, will go wrong. Now, you had no idea who Murphy was, but you used to always believe he was full of shit. There had been plenty of instances where things could have gone wrong, but they didn’t.

In fact, when it came to your case, it seemed like things usually went right. You got good grades, and got along well with all of your teachers. You were the captain of your school’s volleyball team, and had even been elected your school’s student body president your last year of high school. Things always went well for you, which is why you had never really been a believer in what that Murphy guy had to say.

At least, that’s what you thought before today. Because now, you were starting to think maybe you had taken your past ability to narrowly avoid disaster for granted. Because today, just like Murphy had once predicted, everything that could go wrong did just that: go wrong.

It started with your stupid charger. The night before, you must have apparently unplugged it, because when you plugged it into your phone before going to bed, it never charged. Which meant your phone died, and that meant your alarm never went off. And that meant you woke up ten minutes before school started, and your bus was going to be there any second.

So, in the quickest fashion you could muster, you brushed through your hair so you looked at least somewhat presentable then slipped into your uniform. You were incredibly impressed by how fast you’d managed to do that—just over 60 seconds! It must have been some kind of record. Less impressive, though, was the fact that even though you had been so speedy, you watched as the bus you were supposed to be on drove away in the direction of your school, leaving you behind.

Thank goodness for all those years playing volleyball, you had built up enough stamina to (barely) get you from your house all the way to the school. You were twenty minutes late, sure, but hey, at least you were there, right? Your first period teacher was not so understanding, almost immediately assigning you to detention after school.

Detention. You never got detention. In your four years at that school, working your ass off to be the best student you could be, a child your parents could be proud ofc, not once had you gotten assigned to detention. The realization that for the first time ever, you’d been punished by a teacher, was a foreign feeling as you sat at your desk and replayed everything that had happened. Detention, all because your stupid phone charger decided not to work the night before.

“Damn, I thought you were immune to detention.” A voice behind you whispered, and you glanced over to see Choi Beomgyu grinning at you. Of course Beomgyu had seen that all.

Choi Beomgyu was the exact opposite of you. He had fights with teachers basically on the daily, and you were pretty sure he was failing most of his classes. Not because he was stupid, by any means, he was actually really smart. He just didn’t try, he didn’t care about school the way you did. What he did care about, though, was teasing you as much as was humanly possible.

And of course, he had just seen you, the student body president, run into class twenty minutes late and get detention.

You had half a mind to bite back at him, because oh would that be satisfying, but you weren’t looking to talk in the middle of class and make your punishment worse than it already was. You instead gave him a side-eye glare, and he must have found it amusing since he started to giggle.

Once class got out, you really shouldn’t have been surprised to glance over your shoulder to see Choi Beomgyu following you, hot on your tail like he was some sort of lost puppy. You groaned quietly to yourself, hoping that if you ignored him long enough, he would get bored and walk away. Unfortunately, Beomgyu was a very patient man.

“I can’t believe you were late! What happened? Did your carriage lose a wheel on the way here, your highness?” He asked, using his long legs so he could get right up next to you.

You stayed silent.

“Come on, you can tell me! I’m like, the king of being late. I won’t judge.” He nudged your arm with his elbow, with just enough pressure for you to fall out of your rhythm. Now, he finally had your attention as you turned to look at him, eyes narrowed.

“Look, I’m not in the mood today, okay?” You told him flatly, and you were expecting him to find your irritable mood amusing, and find a way to push your buttons further than he already had, but he didn’t.

Instead, his face softened and he (surprisingly) went quiet. You didn’t bother sticking around to figure out what that was all about, not when you still needed to get to your class on the other end of the building, and you were not risking being late to a second class. So, you gave him a small nod, a thank you for leaving you alone, then walked away.

The rest of your day wasn’t any better.

In your history class, you got your grades for a test you’d recently taken, and nearly fell out of your seat when you saw a big fat C staring back at you. And your horror increased tenfold when you saw it wasn’t just a C, but a C minus. Never in your high school career had you gotten a C minus.

At that point of the day, you were starting to become convinced that someone had put some sort of curse on you. You didn’t really have any enemies who would have done that to you, though. Except maybe Choi Beomgyu, but you had a feeling putting a curse on someone was too much effort for him to be bothered with.

By the time the school day was over, you were completely exhausted. At lunch, your best friend, Sumin, accidentally spilled her drink on your uniform, and now you were wearing some extras from the lost and found that were much too big for you. You wanted nothing more than to go home, crawl into your bed and have a good cry, but you still had to do your detention.

You weren’t really sure what to expect from detention, considering you’d never had to do it before. You knew you weren’t looking forward to it, though, and just hoped it wouldn’t be anything horrible--especially since it was your first offense.

Your first period teacher was waiting for you in her classroom after classes got out, and she greeted you with a sympathetic smile. “Y/N. You know you’re one of my favorite students, so it really broke my heart when I saw you come in late this morning.”

The urge to roll your eyes arose, but you managed to fight it. Here she was, acting like you had betrayed her or something, when really, it was her decision to punish you for something so small.

“I understand.” You replied with a nod, avoiding her gaze.

“Good. So, I figured out the perfect thing for you.” She stood up and began to walk out of the classroom, with you following closely behind.

Apparently, the perfect thing for you was some storage room that clearly hadn’t been cleaned in a long time. There had been racks with boxes of textbooks that must have gotten knocked over, since the books were now all over the floor. And the room was covered in a thick layer of dust that made your nose itch the second you stepped inside. She left you with a singular rag, a bottle of cleaner, then left you alone.

You stood in the doorframe, assessing the room in front of you. Just from looking at it, you knew it was going to take you at least a few hours to clean the entire thing by yourself. Which meant it was going to be a few hours before you could go home, a few hours before you could go sleep this horrible, awful day away. Even worse, you were sure that something would go wrong during those next few hours that would prolong the time even longer.

Throughout the whole day, ever since you first realized you’d missed the bus, you had felt tears pricking your waterline, but you had managed to hold them in. You were going to wait until you were in your own bedroom, in private, before you even thought of letting them out. But now, as you stood there, staring at the mess in front of you, you could no longer hold them in.

It was like the floodgates had opened up, and all of the emotions you’d been restraining all day were released. A sob racked through your body, and you were no longer able to keep yourself steady, your knees unbuckling beneath you and causing you to collapse onto the floor. It was wildly embarrassing, the way you became a mess on the floor of the dirtiest room you’d ever seen, where anyone could walk in and see you.

And of course, because stupid Murphy just had to be right, that was exactly what happened.

There was a soft knock at the door, and you hurriedly looked over your shoulder to see the absolute last person you wanted to see poking his head in. You were overcome with horror as you snapped your head around to look away, praying as hard as you could to whatever deity would listen that he hadn’t seen your tears.

“Woah, are you crying?” He asked, and you shook your head.

“No. Why would I be crying?” You sniffled, picking up the rag and spray bottle you had dropped onto the floor and standing up. He caught a glimpse of your face again when you walked past, and he scoffed.

“You’re totally crying. Why are you crying? What’s wrong?” He asked again, stepping further into the storage closet and shutting the door behind him.

You shot him a glare as you attempted to stand one of the racks back up. “I’m not crying. Besides, even if I were, I’m not telling you. You’ll just make fun of me.” You mumbled the last part. Standing the rack up was proving to be futile.

“No I wouldn’t!” He defended himself, watching as you struggled to push the rack up. “Here, let me help you with that--”

“No!” You snapped at him, and he backed up with his hands held up defensively. You tried one more time to stand it up, and let out a frustrated groan when it once again wouldn’t budge. You had no choice but to surrender, and move to the side so Beomgyu could help you.

You were angry that you had to get his help to move the stupid thing. Now you were forced to be thankful he had showed up and barged in. “Thanks.” You muttered, brushing past him as you went to once again get your little rag and bottle.

“You’re welcome.” Beomgyu replied, and though you were facing away from him, you could hear his annoying, cocky smile in his voice. “So, are you going to tell me why you were crying?”

“No.”

“Oh, so you were crying!”

“I didn’t say that.” You looked up at him as you sprayed cleaner onto the dusty shelf. “I told you already, didn’t I? I don’t want to talk about it.”

Unfortunately, he didn’t seem as willing to drop the subject as he had earlier in the day. “Come on, Y/N. I saw you crying, you’re clearly upset, just tell me about it!”

“You’re going to laugh at me.”

“No I won’t!” He exclaimed, sounding exasperated. You raised an eye at his outburst, and he cleared his throat. “Seriously. I won’t.” He softened his tone, looking at you with pleading eyes.

You stared back at him, trying to figure out if you could trust him. This was Choi Beomgyu you were talking about, the boy who had tormented you for years on end with his constant teasing. But, he did look very sincere. And you were sort of itching to rant to someone.

“Fine. My phone didn’t charge last night, so my alarm never went off, so I woke up late, then I missed the bus and had to run to school, and then I got detention, and then I got a C on my stupid history test, and then Sumin spilled her stupid soda on me, so I had to wear this stupid uniform from the lost and found, and-and then I had to come here and clean this stupid closet, and I’m just so tired, and I-I--” The next thing you knew you were crying again, your breath hitching in the back of your throat as the tears spilled onto your cheeks once again.

The second the sobs slipped from your lips again, Beomgyu rushed around the shelf, slipping his arms around your trembling body and pulling you close to his chest. You were so desperate for any kind of comfort, you didn’t bother trying to push him away. Instead, you leaned into his touch, reaching up to grip onto the edge of his uniform jacket. He began to rub your back as you buried your face into his shirt, letting yourself cry--like, really cry. You thought you were going to pass out at any second from how difficult it was for you to catch your breath between sobs.

After enough of his fingers rubbing circles into your back and his soft shh’s whispered into your ear, you were slowly able to calm down to the point you could breathe again. It was truly unbelievable that you were here, in some dusty storage closet crying into Choi Beomgyu’s arms. It was not a position you had ever predicted yourself to be in. And yet…

You didn’t totally hate it.

“Can I tell you something?” Beomgyu asked softly, and with a small sniffle, you nodded against his shirt. “The reason I tease you so much… It’s so embarrassing…” He laughed softly, and you gently pulled your head away, looking up at him with furrowed eyebrows.

“What?” You asked, and as he gazed down at you, his cheeks reddened.

“Um… When we were in first grade, I tried to copy off of your test, once…”

“Yeah, I knew that.”

“What?! No you didn’t, I was so subtle, you didn’t even notice.” He shook his head, and you rolled your eyes. “But anyways, that’s not the point. I was trying to copy off your test, but I remember, I made the mistake of looking at your face--”

“What’s wrong with my face?” You asked defensively, a frown befalling your features.

“Let me finish!” He snapped at you, and out of curiosity to hear the rest of the story, you conceded. “So, I made the mistake of looking at your face, and you were all focused, and had your tongue sticking out of the side of your mouth,” he paused to allow a giggle to escape his lips.

“And I remember thinking you were so cute, and then I got so distracted watching you, by the time you got up to turn your test in, I had missed everything you had written down.”

You stared at him in confusion, trying to figure out what on Earth the point of this whole story was. “What…?”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, Y/N. You’re the top of all our classes, and you can’t figure it out?”

You shook your head, and he let out a defeated sigh.

“I’m saying, Y/N, that I tease you because…” He paused, sucking in a shaky breath. “Because I like you, okay?”

“Oh.”

Oh.

Beomgyu liked you? Since first grade? You were unable to process his words, playing them in your head on repeat like some kind of broken record. He liked you. He annoyed the hell out of you, just because he liked you. What kind of middle school boy behavior was that?

“Oh? Is that all you have to say to my heartfelt confession?” He asked in fake offense, and you quickly shook your head.

“No! I’m just--it’s just--you like me? As in like-like me?” He nodded in confirmation, and you squinted your eyes at him. As he watched you, your gaze drifted down to his jacket, which you had been clinging onto just moments earlier, and the tear soaked fabric.

You felt like you should be absolutely appalled by his confession, and wracked with disgust, or something. You weren’t supposed to like Beomgyu! You weren’t supposed to be able to even stand him! But, his confession wasn’t the worst thing you had ever heard. In fact, as your fingers reached out to graze the edge of his jacket, you thought maybe you sort of liked hearing it.

“Y/N?” He asked you quietly, and you hummed in answer. “You don’t have to say anything, you know. In fact, if you really want me to, I can leave. Or you can leave, and I’ll finish cleaning for you--”

Maybe it was because you were in an emotionally crazed state, or you were desperate to prove Murphy wrong, hell, maybe it was just because you liked him back, but whatever it was, something overcame you, and the next thing you knew, you were tightening your fingers around his jacket to pull him close to you and press your lips against his.

The first thing you thought when you kissed Choi Beomgyu, was why hadn’t you done this sooner? You had been so consumed by your dislike towards him, and too focused on other things like your academics, you had never stopped to think of Beomgyu in this way. But now, as he immediately kissed you back, and wrapped his arms around your waist, you wished you had thought of him this way.

Because kissing Choi Beomgyu was absolutely not wrong. Rather, it was very, very right. It was like his lips were made to fit perfectly against your own, as they moved together in unison. You started to think all the bad things that had gone down that day weren’t so bad if it meant they would lead to this.

After what felt like an eternity of heavy breathing and hot kisses, the two of you finally pulled away, resting your foreheads against one another as you attempted to catch your breath. You glanced up at Beomgyu, a small grin spreading across your face to mirror his own.

“Hey, do you really want to clean all this shit?” He asked quietly, cocking an eyebrow at you. You shook your head. “Didn’t think so. Let’s get out of here, we’ll just tell them I kidnapped you, or something. You’re the Pres, they’ll believe us.”

Running away now was risking even further punishment, but Beomgyu was right. You were the president, you could basically do whatever you wanted. Besides, you’d spent all day trying to do the right thing, and still, everything had gone wrong. So, why not live a little, right? And why not do it with the cute boy who just confessed he’d liked you since the first grade?

You nodded. “Okay.”

permanent tag list: @jakeshands @therealhyunjingf @exohclipse @ttyunz @naveries @mazeinthemoon @luvsoobs @n0-thisispatrick @arizzu @dewyboi @yeonboy

#⊹ ˑ ִ ֗ ִ ۫ 1k celebration #beomgyu x reader #choi beomgyu x reader #beomgyu imagine #beomgyu drabble #beomgyu oneshot #choi beomgyu imagine #choi beomgyu oneshot #choi beomgyu drabble #txt beomgyu #txt x reader #txt imagine #txt oneshot #txt drabble

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greensagephase · 6 months

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🍁A November Morning🍁

So apparently I reached 1k followers sometime this week and I didn't even realize it as it's not something I check regularly but just wanted to say a huge THANK YOU! Here's a short drabble of soft Miguel as a thank you for the amazing support. It truly means a lot to me, THANK YOU!!! Miguel O'Hara x FemaleReader Summary: A slow cold, rainy, and gloomy November morning with Miguel. Word Count: 1,751 Warnings: Just fluff; mention of lovemaking the previous night; soft Miguel (why is he not real?) 🍂Masterlist🍂

It's a cold, gloomy, and rainy November morning. Miguel lays on your shared bed with his arms wrapped around you as he listens to the pit pat of rain against the windows. He sighs in content, appreciating everything about this moment. It’s the weekend, which means that he finally gets to do this after looking forward to it all week. He can only have these mornings with you on the weekend, with you pressed against him and your body warmth engulfing him in the most wonderful way. If he could, he'd lay there with you all day, burning in your heavenly warmth, listening to your soft breathing. Your head is resting on his bare chest and you have this lovely look on your face that Miguel simply adores, making it impossible for him to leave the bed. He caresses your cheek softly, letting his thumb graze your bottom lip for a few seconds as he admires you in your sleep.

Yes, he could really do this all day, every day with you without question and how he wishes he could, if only he wasn’t the founder and leader of the Spider Society. With his job, it means that he’s often rushing to HQ to save the multiverse during the week but on these mornings, everything is about you and him. He makes sure of it. Miguel sighs softly again, grazing your skin and feeling grateful for these moments. Miguel stays in bed for another hour, enjoying your warmth before slipping out of bed. He replaces his body with a pillow so you can't fully sense his departure. You mumble something in your sleep and Miguel knows it's about him leaving but you’re still so deeply asleep that you end up hugging the pillow instinctively without another word. Miguel smiles softly and kisses the top of your head before quietly using the bathroom and then leaving the bedroom.

An hour later or so, you stir awake. Your hand moves around the bed, trying to find that specific heat that only Miguel can offer. Your hand finds nothing, making you open your eyes only to find an empty bed. You stay still for a few seconds, hearing the soft drizzle of rain, and smile.

You get up and make the bed, heading to the bathroom to do your morning routine. You leave the bedroom with the sole purpose of finding Miguel. You stop in your tracks at the sight of the living room. Miguel turned on a few lamps and your twinkling lights, casting soft hues, here and there throughout the space. The fireplace is on and the air is filled with lovely scents thanks to an autumnal lit candle and breakfast being cooked. Then, there's also music; soft, vintage songs that Miguel seems to really enjoy. The living room just looks and feels so cozy, making you wish you could cuddle on a couch with Miguel right now.

You hear a drawer open and close in the kitchen, snatching your attention back to your mission. You quietly walk into the kitchen, eager to see the sight that waits for you, and you don’t have to wait for long because there he is. Miguel stands in front of the stove with his back to you. He's shirtless but wearing his sweatpants. His soft brown hair is messy from sleeping but also thanks to your fingers after last night’s lovemaking. You see his arm and back muscles flex as he flips food, and you quickly realize he’s making pancakes as the familiar scent fills your nostrils.

You know he has to know by now that you're there with him. He always knows thanks to his sensitive senses as Spider-Man but he's waiting for you to approach him. You walk over to him, decreasing the distance between your bodies with each step you take until you're behind him. You tentatively wrap your arms around his waist so your movements don't interfere with his cooking and also to avoid any incidents in the kitchen. You lean closer, softly burying your face into his back and inhaling the delightful scent that belongs only to him. You can’t help but get lost in it as your fingers touch his soft, tan skin. You stay like that for what feels like a minute, just enjoying the moment until Miguel turns, wrapping his arms around your waist.

"My turn," he says as he buries his face in your neck. "Coffee, hermosa?" Miguel mumbles into your neck before he starts leaving small, sweet kisses on your skin, making you feel ticklish.

You fight the urge to laugh and wrap your arms around Miguel, pulling him closer, if that's even possible. "Yes, please," you whisper.

You let each other go a few seconds later and Miguel is quick to get you a cup of coffee. He leads you to a chair, silently asking you to take a seat and let him do this, something you've grown used to. He always wants to pamper you on days like these when he's off work, asking Lyla to not disturb him unless it's an emergency. You thank him and smile, earning yourself a smile back from him as he returns to the stove.

"Breakfast will be ready soon, hermosa. Just enjoy your coffee for now."

You nod and do just that, as the soft music fills the air. It doesn't take long before Miguel brings you a plate with pancakes and other sides on top of a plate with fruit before he joins you.

The two of you have a slow and peaceful breakfast, talking about anything and everything on this cozy morning. There are no interruptions from outside or Miguel’s duty as a superhero. It’s just the two of you in your shared apartment, enjoying breakfast and each other’s company.

Once you're done eating breakfast, Miguel cleans the kitchen with your help, even though he insists on doing it himself. You know he wants to make these days special for you but you still insist, wanting to spend time with him even if it’s just while cleaning. You finally convince him to let you help when you think of something you’re pretty sure he won’t turn down.

"We'll finish cleaning faster together and you know… I was thinking the living room looks so cozy right now. All I want to do is lay on the couch and read a book. Perhaps you’d like to join me?" you ask, and that's all Miguel needs to hear before he accepts your help.

You notice he even speeds up, which makes you chuckle to yourself. Shortly after, the kitchen is cleaned in half the time it usually takes and now you're on one of the couches in your living room. Miguel and you are under the same blanket, each reading a book with the sound of music and rain still filling the air.

You love these mornings. Not only do you get to spend them with Miguel but you also get to see the man you love relax. He gets to read books, a hobby he’s only been able to pick up again since he started dating you. Instead of wearing his suit for hours on end, which sure, it’s holographic but still, Miguel wears comfy clothes like his sweatpants. After spending hours and hours traveling from universe to universe on missions and standing on his platform for who knows how long throughout the week, you get to see him rest from so much stress and physical activity. On these mornings, Miguel happily lies on the couch under a shared blanket with you nearby, if not pressed against him.

The two of you read silently until Miguel puts his book away quietly. He can’t help but watch you as you read, all snuggled up against the couch, lost in your own little world. He smiles and without a word, pulls you onto his lap like nothing.

“You could at least let me know,” you playfully say, holding on to your book to avoid losing your place.

“I’m sorry, hermosa. Couldn’t help myself. You were too far away for my liking,” Miguel whispers, cupping your face with his large hands.

You drop your book on your lap, forgetting it as soon as Miguel’s hands touch your face. You’ll find the spot you stopped at later, it’s no problem. You smile and move closer to him, something that pleases Miguel because he smiles and leans closer. He presses a kiss to your forehead, so soft you barely feel his lips.

“Have I ever told you how lucky I am to have you in my life?” he whispers against your skin. “I don’t know what would be of me if it wasn’t for you.”

You sigh softly and bring your hand to his face, caressing it gently. Miguel sighs now, closing his eyes and relishing the feeling of your soft hand on his face.

“Hermosa… You don’t know how much I love you,” Miguel whispers. “Thank you for being here. For being part of my life. For accepting me - for loving me.”

You nod and lift your face, making him open his eyes. You hold each other’s gaze and you smile sweetly at him before kissing his lips gently but lovingly. Miguel’s hands continue to cup your face while your own travel to his neck, pulling him closer as you kiss him. Neither of you are sure how long the kiss lasts as you get lost in the moment. For all you know it may have been half an hour of just kissing and embracing each other but neither of you care. You gently pull apart after some time only to catch your breath. You bury your face into Miguel’s neck, snuggling into his body even more just as his arms wrap tightly around you.

“I love you, Miguel,” you whisper. “So much. Please never forget that.”

Miguel smiles softly, inhaling your sweet scent. “How could I ever forget, hermosa? I feel your love every day, in so many ways… I love you. So much more,” he whispers back, which just makes you hug him even tighter.

The two of you remain like that for some time, listening to the gentle rain on your apartment windows and the wonderful music Miguel chose for this lovely morning until he asks you to dance and of course, you accept. The two of you slow dance in your dimly lit living room, embracing each other lovingly on this cold and rainy November morning.

🍂 🕯🍂 🕯🍂🕯 🍂🕯 🍂 🕯🍂

Translation for italicized word in Spanish: Hermosa - Gorgeous, beautiful _____________

I hope you enjoyed reading this! I can't believe it's already November and Miguel still lives rent free in my head and heart. Never thought it would be this bad tbh but I can't do anything about it anymore (I never tried to do anything about it to begin with really). Thank you for the amazing support on my writing!! It truly means a lot to me as it's something I love doing!! I hope you have a wonderful November! ❤️🍂 - Alondra

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make-me-imagine · 1 year

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Hold My Hand

Plot: Tensions and feelings arise when you and Sherlock end up in a precarious situation when running from a murderer.

Prompts: Forced Proximity, Sexual Tension (mild), “Hold my hand and don’t you dare let go.” <changed slightly, I hope you don't mind

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes (Enola Holmes) x Gn!Reader

Written for @multifandomfix for their birthday event. Happy Birthday! I couldn't decide on one prompt so I kind of mashed a bunch together lol.

Warnings: Nothing really.

Words: 1k.

A/N: After watched Enola Holmes 1&2 I've been debating writing for Sherlock. I have a Christmas fic planned for him, and I thought this might be a good time to test it out. Also I had no idea what to title this lol.

Your throat was hoarse as you ran down the cobblestone street. You glanced behind you, seeing the man chasing you not far behind. Glancing to your right, you saw Sherlock, jaw clenched, hair flying as he ran beside you.

When you agreed to help Enola with her current case - which she fervently assured you wold be an easy one - running from a murderous and crooked inspector with Sherlock Holmes beside you, was not how you thought it would end up.

Slipping through a small group of people, you stumbled to a stop, as your eyes cast over the busy market square.

"The market?" You asked out of breath.

"Yes, we could lose him in here."

The bustling crowds would surely provide you cover from your assailant, giving you time to lose him, but you risked being split up in the busy crowd.

Apparently Sherlock had this same thought, as you felt his hand reach down and grab your own. You felt your heart jolt in your chest as you looked from his hand, to his eyes, which he locked with yours.

"Hold my hand and don't let go." His voice was tense, and his gaze sharp.

You nodded, before he quickly started off into the crowded market. His hand was gripped tightly around yours as you ran close behind him, slipping through the crowds of people.

Looking back behind you, you spotted the familiar bowler hat of the man chasing you, as he bobbed through the crowd. You could tell he was losing sight of you as he hesitated in his steps.

"Were losing him!" You called to Sherlock as you weaved past a large group of vendors.

Taking a sharp left, and slipping past a market stall, Sherlock pulled you into a thin, darkened crevasse of an alleyway.

The alleyway forced proximity between the two of you, as your chests pressed together. You felt Sherlock slowly let go of your hand. You moved your hands and planted them against the wall behind you. The pressure of Sherlock's grip slowly fading.

Noting the closeness of your bodies, you found yourself holding your breath. Your eyes locked for a moment and you felt something pass between you, before you both broke eye contact and peered out into the crowds.

If your sudden avoidance of eye contact was to avoid the tension that palpitated between you, or to look for your assailant, you weren't sure.

Your eyes moved from one person to another, waiting to see the man pass by. After a few moments of not seeing him, you felt nervousness and relief wash over you. You may have lost him for now, but he could be anywhere.

Looking back to Sherlock, you felt a small jolt course through you, as you saw his eyes already locked on you. You felt the back of your neck heat up, as his eyes bored into you.

The detective had made you nervous from the moment you met him. The way his eyes seemed to follow your every movement, the way he studied you, you couldn't help but wonder what he could see. It had to be something notable since he seemed determined to keep you with him since he agreed to help Enola with her case a day prior.

Finally breaking the tension that seemed to be growing heavier between you, you spoke with a hushed voice. "What now?"

Sherlock seemed to snap out of his thoughts as you spoke. He paused for a moment as he took a breath.

"Now, we slip out into the crowd, grab something that could disguise us, and find our way back to Enola. Hopefully she and Tewkesbury have gathered the evidence she needed while we were being chased through London. She should have had plenty of time. Once we have it, we take the evidence to Lestrade, and then-" He paused, his voice going silent.

You rose your brow lightly "And then?" You asked.

"And then-" He began, his voice soft, but you saw his thought falter as he spoke "And then the case is done."

You weren't sure why you thought he intended to say something else, but you felt the disappointment of it anyways. You nodded your head as you forced yourself to look away from him.

Peering out into the crowds, you mumbled softly. "Sneak out. Find a disguise. Find Enola. Case closed. Sounds easy enough."

Looking back at Sherlock, he had a soft smile on his face "Something Sounding easy, and being easy don't always coincide."

You smiled softly and shrugged your head "I guess we'll find out if it does this time."

As you began to step out from the alleyway, you jumped back when you felt Sherlock grab your hand

"Wait."

"What?" You asked as you looked around hurriedly "Did you see him?"

"No, no, we're fine, it's just..."

You eyed him with curiosity as he seemed lost for words. "What is it Sherlock?"

"I- I don't know how much time we will have to talk once we leave this alley and get back to Enola."

You felt your heartbeat speed up as your neck grew hot again. It was unusual seeing Sherlock Holmes uncertain.

"Yes..?"

"I- I have enjoyed my time with you these last few days. You...pique my interest in ways I find to be unexpected. So, if- if it is desirable to you. Perhaps, once this case is over, you would be willing to have dinner with me?"

His previously downcast gaze slowly rose to meet yours. The restraint you had to use not to show your surprise was great. But you remained stoic, before you smiled softly at him.

"I would love to have dinner with you Sherlock."

You saw the small hint of relief wash over his face before he smiled. With a nod of his head he spoke softly "Great. I could pick you up tomorrow, around six?"

You repressed the grin pulling at your face as you nodded "Alright, six it is."

His smile grew wider for a moment before he remembered your current situation. He cleared his throat.

"Perhaps we should go now, before we are found here."

You were jolted back into the moment as you nodded your head "Yes, right."

You both spared each other soft knowing smiles before you slipped from your hideaway. Sherlock's hand reluctantly slipped away from yours as you quickly returning to your previous business. But both of you anew with an excited and expectant energy.

xx End xx

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @imaginesfire, @onuen, @witchygagirl, @alexxavicry

I have every intention of writing at least one more Sherlock fic, so if you wish to be tagged in that, or any future Sherlock fics, let me know! (Please be specific which Sherlock Holmes as there are multiple I write for)

#sherlock holmes x reader #enola holmes imagine #cavill!sherlock holmes x reader #enola holmes sherlock x reader #i dont know what to tag him as to make it easy to seperate from other sherlocks lol #enola holmes reader insert #henry cavill x reader #sherlock holmes (enola holmes) imagine #cavill!sherlock holmes imagine #cavill!sherlock holmes fic #birthday writing challenge #multifandomfix #multifandomfix birthday event #sherlock holmes/reader #fic #oneshot #cavill!sherlock holmes #enola holmes

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reve-writes · 11 months

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—ground floor; leon kennedy.

ʚ leon kennedy x agent!reader | resident evil | 1k words. ʚ leon comes to your rescue when you're trapped underground. ʚ profanities; mentions of death (no one really dies). ʚ a/n — to the anon who wanted more agent! reader. i like to think this leon and reader exists in the same universe and timeline as rotten work. they have their adventures (and endless bickering). also i could not come up with a title so we are stuck with this.

I told you so.

It's probably killing him not to say those words to you right now. Leon's face flickers on your communication device as his voice crackles through your earpiece. His jaw is taut as he glares, blue eyes serving you a disapproving look.

“Where are you?” He asks, not unkindly.

“Some sort of basement?” You reply uncertainly, looking around for a clue in your surroundings. You end up without an answer, only a steel-paneled door that looked like it belonged to a garage—although much, much bigger—and imposing blank cement walls. No windows. You remember going down the elevator. It's a metal box that reaches up your waist and you could see a blur of metal and concrete as it descended.

It's just your horrible, rotten luck that the elevator is one-way and it ascended without you up to where you originally came from, leaving you in the vast space, stocked with crates and large trucks with nowhere to go.

“That narrows it down,” he replies, sarcasm apparent. “I leave for one second—”

“Leon,” you interrupt, uneasily glancing behind you. “Save the lectures after you find me please. I don't like it here.”

Your voice comes out like a whimper and he is suddenly scared for you. Gone was the fiery, argumentative partner that was an eternal pain in his ass. He blinks rapidly, clearing his throat.

“Okay,” he says. “Where did you find the elevator?”

“Ground floor,” you recall. “Left from the room we were in. I was trying to find the bathroom.”

“Wait for me.”

“Of course, my knight in shining armour,” you answer. “Not like I can do anything else.”

He scoffs. You hear the shuffle of his trousers as he's running, boots thumping to follow your directions. You are thankful that he stays on the line with you. There's a loud clang echoing from somewhere in the vast basement.

“Leon, I think—”

You're whispering to your codec call communication device, but the screen goes dark.

Did he hang up?

Another loud clang.

After the countless amount of infected and bioweapons you've encountered with Leon since you've been dropped off here, no one can blame you for being paranoid. The light overhead flickers as if it can sense your nerves.

You reach for your handgun that is holstered on your belt.

You haven't moved far from the elevator shaft. It's on one far corner of the room. Your safest bet would be to wait near it so you can spot Leon when he comes down to your rescue.

If he can find the elevator.

You don't doubt him, but your descriptions were vague and this building is vast and maze-like. You hear another noise, louder, a staccato of a blunt force against metal. You're breathing heavily, a shiver of terror washes over you as you point your gun aimlessly.

You inhale sharply. This is fine.

You're not stupid enough to call out as you walk slowly forward. Soundlessly. Dumb as it is to try and investigate, you're locked in a square room with whatever it is anyway. Better you find it first before it finds you.

While you're quiet and careful, Leon does not know to be.

He is calling out for your name as the elevator creaks downwards, his voice echoing. You flinch, turning on your heels to make a run for it. Whatever it is that lurks here must have heard him.

When he spots you bounding towards him, he's waving his hand furiously, beckoning you to come.

“Don't look back,” he calls out, pointing his gun towards your direction, which means something is behind you. Or a lot of somethings from the thumps of footsteps. “But you need to hurry.”

“This is your fault,” you yell out, daring a peek as you're close enough to the elevator. A pack of five infected dogs slobber as they run after you. You yell out a curse.

“Told you not to look!”

To your mortification, the elevator is moving up.

“Come on!” Leon calls out, pushing his body up against the low metal walls of the elevator, extending a hand towards you. “Dammit. Come on!”

With one last, petrified push, you jump and he grabs your hand, hauling you into the safety of the ascending elevator, away from the very likely possibility of getting torn apart. The two of you stumble and fall, with you, falling on top of his well-built body. You can feel the rapid beating of his heart mirroring yours.

He groans, body going limp underneath you. “You fucking scared me.” His hand snakes around your waist.

“Hell, I scared me.” You push yourself off before you get too comfortable, rolling over to lie on the elevator floor, heaving. “Why did you hang up on me, asshole?”

He's pushing his hair out of his face. “I thought you did.”

You angle your head sideways, brow creasing as you look at him. “You being on the line kept me from going insane. Why would I hang up?”

He returns your stare with a teasing smile. “Glad to be your anchor to this world.”

“Don't flatter yourself.”

“You flatter me enough.”

“I would much rather be eaten by those—those things.” You regret it as soon as you say it. Images of blood-covered, slobbering canines running after you, baring their teeth and snapping at you for a taste will forever haunt your nightmares. If you'd been slower, or if you'd tripped over your foot, or if Leon didn't arrive in time, you would be dog food by now.

Dead.

“Hey.” Leon's voice broke you out of your stupor. His gloved hand reach for yours as you lie on the rusting metal floor. “You're okay.”

“I know. I'm fine.” You appreciatively squeeze his gloved hand. “Thank you.”

“Part of my job description, remember?” He runs his thumb over yours.

“So you keep reminding me.”

Leon pushes himself off of the ground and pulls you up with him. He dusts your shoulders off, checking you over and lets out a relieved sigh when there's no sign of injury.

“My hero, aren't you?”

“Nothing new.” He shrugs. “Let's go. Try not to get yourself into more death traps.”

You trail after him with a frown as he stalks off, handgun in hand. “Says you.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Remember that time in Europe when you—”

Leon shushes you, crouching as he holds out his palm towards you, signaling that he heard something. You roll your eyes, saving the bickering for later.

[ ].

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #—ki writes 🍯

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writingmeraki · 1 year

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angel kisses.

a cho guesung drabble !

genre: fluff, just fluff.

pairing : cho guesung x gn!reader, bf!guesung, established relationship.

warnings : none really like one dirty but not even extreme joke and kisses.

author's note : here i present to you, an idea that rotted in my brain since a while, i don't even know if i like it but i just think guesung has pretty moles :( literally 2 am brain dump and i have an exam in like 7 hours 💀 anyways enjoy and let me know what you think ! ( not proofread or edited yikes)

word count : 0.9k - 1k ?

There was something you'd heard off the good ol forsaken tales of the internet, in the depths of the tweets which floated on your timeline,which actually was one of the few things you'd found to be very fascinating.

"People say moles are where your lover had kissed you the most in your past life."

Wow, that's actually really... beautiful

You first thought when you read of it.

Beauty marks were never really something you'd paid attention to, in your mind it didn't really seem significant enough but now with this newly found information, you also took upon notice of something.

Guesung's angel kisses.

(you preferred the word angel kisses over moles, at least Google told you angel kisses was another name for moles so you stuck to that)

You knew your lover was significantly beautiful, ethereal. He was truly one of the most handsome men you'd ever met and you were shocked actually as to how you managed to even make him be yours and vice versa.

But back to the point, that day as you'd been doing your regular routine of winding everything up to call it a day when Guesung had gotten back from his work.

You observed his face and blinked in surprise when you observed just how many beauty marks he had on his face. It wasn't like you did not know they exist, you of course did, but you never truly counted them, you just found them cute and your mind did just brush them off.

So as you both lay in your shared bed, cuddled closer than ever, limbs over each other, your head on his shoulder as you observed the left side of his face, mentally counting the angel kisses while he had been reading a book with his reading spectacles on.

And oh you mentally swooned every damn time he had those glasses on, they just suited him and fit his face so perfectly.

"Babe, what's up? A penny for your thoughts?" Guesung spoke as he put aside his book and directed his gaze towards you while yours moved to that one mark he had right on his bottom eyelid.

You gently chuckled as you noted this and spoke "You know i read about something today, more like found on a tweet but I think it's really cute."

Guesung looked at you expectantly, a curious look now grazing over his face as he lifted his brow.

"Well it's like you know the beauty marks we have on our body? You know the moles which are also called angel kisses ? Apparently, people say moles are where your lover had kissed you the most in your past life."

You said not being able to hide your grin at the thought of your other newly found information

"And you know i noticed something as well, you have angel kisses all of your face which probably means your past lover really loved your face huh?"

You lifted one of your fingers to trace over the respective moles your eyes found starting from the area right above his chin to the ones on his cheeks and then finally in your opinion the most beautiful one, the one on his bottom eyelid.

He couldn't help but smile at you as his eyes followed your movements, quietly listening to you and letting you do what you wanted and after you were done,

"Well then in this lifetime, I do hope my lover not only loves my face but also my whole body."

He mischievously spoke trying to imply something to which you gently smacked his chest, narrowing your eyes at him for trying to ruin the cute moment you were having.

"Shut up. You and your...words."

You whispered and tried to cover up your warm face by burying it in the crook of his neck as you also wanted your thoughts of his words implications to calm down to which he just laughed, his chest moving in the rhythm of his laughter and you could feel the subtle vibrations of it as though you were laughing as well.

As he calmed down from seeing your flustered state over just his words, a thought, just a small one seemed to have taken over the entire thought process over your mind and you wanting to be bold for once decided to let that intrusive thought win as you looked up at Guesung, biting your own lip at what you were about to do.

Guesung sat up more straight as you moved in front of him now on his lap, to which he then moved his hands to rest on your waist.

Softly placing your hands on his chest, you moved closer to his face and kissed one of his moles on his chin.

And then another on his cheek,

Then again a light peck on the one on his cheekbone.

His eyes had fluttered shut the moment you kissed the first one, he basked in the warmth that spread across his face and body which happened because of your kisses.

He loved the tingles which moved through every nerve in his body as you continued kissing his face at the random spots yet he knew where you were kissing.

And finally he absolutely loved the gentle kiss you pressed on his eye to which he could not resist the urge anymore as he fluttered his eyes open and pulled your very familiar yet homely lips to his, sending the same tingles he felt pulsating through your own body as you both giggled in your own little world of utter joy.

Never had he loved his angel kisses that day as he had when he realised that his one true love found the cutest of delights in them.

all written works as well as images and edits (unless credited) belong to pri. do not plagiarise, repost, re-edit or claim as yours. pics mostly found on pinterest.

links : main navigation !

#cho guesung #cho gue sung #cho guesung imagines #cho gue sung fanfic #cho gue sung x reader #cho guesung drabbles #cho guesung ff #cho guesung x reader #x reader #x gn reader #x male reader #x female reader #cho guesung fluff #cho guesung fic #his moles are so pretty hehe <3 #[ pri works ]

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teencopandthesourwolf · 4 days

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so i'm supposed to be working on my sterek wip—and i am! i wrote about 1k today—but bc of all you lovely mutual's and folk i follow now also into buddie (main culprits being @inell @rosieposiepuddingnpie @sortasirius and @angela-feelstoomuch) and ofc bc of bi!buck confirmed, i've started ploughing through 911 over the last few weeks like a bloodhound chasing a rabbit through the woods and have consequently, inevitably, started a buddie wip. fml. anyways, it's all your lot's fault so here, have just under 1k of my first buck pov buddie quarantine wip and everyone pls forgive my adhd writing brain lol.

Eddie was so fucking drunk. And it wasn't really either of their faults.

Because daytimes? When they weren't on shift? They were easy.

In the daytime there was just so much stuff to do with Christopher. So many games to play and so many cool things Buck was finding he could teach the little guy. And there were things that Christopher was teaching Buck, too, like, did you know that a crocodile can't stick out its tongue? Because Buck didn't, not until Christopher told him. And how cool is that?

The three of them—Buck, Christopher and Eddie—had started a Strip Jack Naked tournament and they now played it every night that he and Eddie were home, just before bath and bedtime stories. Turns out Christopher loved card games, and loved the rude name given to Buck and Maddie's childhood favourite even more, because what ten year old wouldn't? There was obviously zero stripping involved; Buck didn't even know why it was called what it was called, only that it was super fun, and just about easy enough for Christopher to learn but not so easy he'd get bored too fast, y’know? And what was funny was that the little dude hadn't even won a single round yet, and that somehow hadn't seemed to deter the slugger in his efforts one bit. Quite the opposite, actually. He'd warned, “Just you two wait,” and had this look on his face that said he was determined to become a grandmaster and beat Buck at his own game—or, even better, beat his Dad and win the prize of Eddie having to tidy Christopher's room for a week (a suggestion of Buck's that Eddie had not been overjoyed about).

In turn, Buck and Eddie had now lost countless games of Mario Kart to the kid; been repeatedly humiliated at Pictionary (the kiddie version); and each had the least amount of kudos points for Misfits, a game that Eddie apparently used to play with his sisters. It was another drawing-type one, where each player took a body section on their turn—head, torso and arms, or legs and feet—and then folded the paper over to hide the result until everyone was done and Christopher would unfold the paper and they'd all cry with laughter at the results. Misfits didn't even technically have any winners or losers, but hey, try telling Christopher that.

Evenings, though? The few hours left between Christopher's bedtime and Eddie and Buck turning in for the night? They were tougher.

Tough on Buck, at least.

See, he'd had this dream, a few weeks back. A dream about—well.

About Eddie.

In the dream, Buck had been washing the dishes in Eddie and Chris's apartment after Eddie had made another attempt at cooking his abuela's delicious Barbacoa recipe (Buck had tasted the real deal once when Isabel had come to stay and Eddie had invited Buck over to dinner), and Eddie had suddenly crowded into him from behind, crushing the length of his body up against Buck's back and reaching around to circle soft but firm hands around Buck's wet wrists. Startled and confused, Buck had open opened his mouth to say something when Eddie had placed his hot mouth onto the sensitive spot on Buck's neck, just below his right ear and—

Buck had woken abruptly, writhing and twitching and groaning, jizz spilling all over his freshly changed bed sheets.

After that, evenings were a challenge.

They were now made up of all the usual fun and dumb stuff that Buck and Eddie got up to, plus the occasionally deeper topics in their lives that they both seemed to struggle with but tried their best to share with each other, but there was also Don't look too long at Eddie's hands, and Don't look at Eddie's mouth while he speaks, and Don't check out Eddie's ass in those jeans I'd told him he should definitely buy when the shops were still open and the world hadn't yet gone to shit and I wasn't losing my damn mind.

Buck had moved into Eddie and Chris's place when Quarantine hit because it had just made sense, and over the course of the last six months he had somehow managed to fall in lust with his best friend.

So, times when they both had tomorrow off work, and when the confinement got to be a little too much, they would drink. Sometimes a little too much. One of them always stayed relatively sober though, just in case Chris needed something in the night, and tonight, Buck had been allowing Eddie to enjoy himself because the guy hardly ever really let his hair down, and he deserved to.

Eddie got giggly when he drank Tequila, Buck noticed.

They'd already sunk a few beers prior to cracking open the bottle of Cazadores Reposado, and after Buck had stopped at two shots but Eddie had continued, Eddie had become progressively loose and was now starting to giggle like a frickin schoolgirl. Which, embarrassingly, seemed to be doing things to Buck—not that Buck had a thing for school girls, jesus no, it was just that Eddie sounding so soft and vulnerable and happy was something that apparently really did it for Buck.

Fuck his life.

The guy also got very touchy-feely on tequila, too.

They'd migrated from the kitchen table to sitting so close to each other on the sofa that they were permanently touching, as well as all the times Eddie kept nudging his shoulder further into Buck's and squeezing his hand on Buck's knee. Then his thigh.

Seriously, fuck Buck's life.

The way Eddie had gotten so comfortable with touching Buck was becoming a majorly uncomfortable situation for Buck to have to deal with. Not because Buck didn't want the attention, but because he really fucking did.

And that was a problem, for a few reasons.

Reason one was that Buck wasn't gay, and didn't really understand these feelings he was having.

Reason two was, as far as Buck knew, Eddie wasn't gay either.

Reason three (and Buck's biggest fear) was Buck being terrified of losing what he had with Eddie. He loved Eddie, and Christopher, and he was pretty sure they loved him back—and he certainly wasn't about to let his rabid and confusing libido ruin any of that.

Drunk Eddie, though? It seemed Drunk Eddie really had it in for Buck tonight.

fingers crossed i can finish it before buck goes insane! xp

#here we go!#buddie #buddie wip #buddie fic #pov buck #evan buckly #eddie diaz #911 #911 fic #lemons #wet dream #coming untouched #drunk!eddie #alcohol #tcats writes #teencopandthesourwolf #plus buddie lol

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