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moxfirefly · 3 years

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Ssssooooo I'm gonna keep the "only one bed" trope train and ask for it with maybe Heisenberg? I know you're obsessed with him dont even deny it uwu

*vibrates excitedly* oh BOY!!!!! Thank you Dia, you always gimme the prompts my little heart wants. Shout out to @akumaalert I hope you don’t mind but I wanted to include Karl’s powers being on the fritz due to, sensations, and that wouldn’t be possible if it weren’t for your brilliance!

I’m going off the friggin rails here so,

Rated Explicit (18+ only)

There was a voice in the back of your head that sounded too much like your mother.

It kept yelling at you that this was unsavory, that this wasn’t modest of you and your teachings. Who were you to lie with a man? A man you weren’t bound to, a Lord on top of it. All those sinful talks in the big black book circled your mind like vultures.

But he had offered, no?

It was pouring out after all, a big bad storm complete with thunder and gusts of wind that would’ve blown you away probably.

The nature of this friendship? Complicated, very very complicated. You had racked your brain over it as you had buttoned up one of his shirts and climbed into his bed just as another clap of thunder sounded. It made you scurry, somewhat not as elegantly as you may have liked but nevertheless it didn’t stop him from laughing at you.

For such a large factory it only housed one bedroom which just so happened to be his own. He had every intention of sleeping somewhere else, some way, but you had insisted that it wasn’t fair. The storm wasn’t his fault or your own, the living accommodations weren’t either.

So here you were.

In bed with Karl Heisenberg.

Falling a sleep had proven quite difficult, the insistent slide of pencil on paper, the storm and its monstrous sounds. There was a distant revving of something you couldn’t quite name.

You turned to face Heisenberg with every intention of passing the time.

Or at least to help yourself to ogling him.

Your mother voice rang again.

Unsavory, so unsavory.

But he was there, shirtless, sturdy, muscle in his arms and missing those damned shades for once. Whatever he was scribbling had his undivided attention, as you snuck a glance you saw drawings instead of words.

He could draw?

Rather good too.

“What is that?” You tried to lift your gaze but a large hand fell on the page to obscure your snooping. “Nothing, just ideas” He flipped the page, the white of it begging for ink.

“My apologies… I didn’t know you could draw though” He could still see curiosity adorned in your gaze, a noticeable silence falling as your stared up at him. You wanted something, that’s all he could tell.

“…What do you want me to draw?” He huffed out, even if you excitedly sat up in bed and rested against the headboard with a big smile. “Hmm, surprise me or maybe draw me?” You chuckled but went quiet when you watched him scoot down to the end of the bed onto his side. He flipped open the note book again and squinted at you.

“How opposed are you to taking your clothes off?” He smirked and in turn you rolled your eyes.

“Depends, let’s see how well you draw me first” You shot back with every intent of dishing out what he was. Heisenberg chuckled before picking up the pen to start on the newest blank page. “You better keep your mouth shut about this, don’t want villagers lining up to get my works of art” His movements seemed almost mechanical, eyes occasionally lifting to meet you as he did. “There’s enough pictures of your mother in everyone’s homes, hm?” You watched his eyes roll again but he remained silent, he stole another glance at you, eyes roaming your chest now.

Something about that made your skin warm, a nice blush found itself onto your cheeks.

“You draw everyone woman you get into bed?” You asked rather quietly, the small pin prick of jealousy manifesting in your fingertips.

“No, much to your surprise I don’t have all the women of this village in here for sleepovers” His gaze fell to your now exposed legs and the urge to cover them increased but he was quick to tap the end of his pen on your approaching hands. “Stop moving,” He returned to the notebook with a concentrated chew on the inside of his cheeks. The strands of silvery hair fell in front of his eyes and you wished that maybe you too possessed the ability to draw and capture him.

He was handsome.

Those pesky sinful thoughts found you again and with that came the urge to do something about it.

“You better fucking like it, this is reserved for projects after all” He let the pen rest on the bed and flipped the note book towards you.

Your eyes went wide.

It was a sketch, not polished but there in the scribbly lines of black was your face and your body. The messy details perfectly representing you. Your drawn eyes stood out to you, the slight fall of his shirt on your shoulder stood out to you, the way he took more time to detail your legs stood out to you.

“Is that stunned silence? It’s shit isn’t it?” He glared at the page, eyeing up all its faults but you were quick to move and shake your head. “It’s not shit! I’m just- Karl this is beautiful, you’re talented” You observed the image again, a small crinkle at the corners of your mouth.

“I’d ask to keep it but-“ He took the notebook back, not relenting even as you pouted. “Nope, I like this, all I usually have on here is ugly inventions” And corpses, he obviously left that out. He continued to admire the drawing before he grinned, letting hazel eyes fall on you from above the notebook. “Well?” He simply asked and you knew.

“Might come back here for the nude study if you’re going to make me look this nice” You shamelessly flirted back. Heisenberg laughed, a true sound with not ill intentions. “Well I’m sure arrangements can be made” He closed the note book but his eyes soon found your own, close enough that he could smell the oils that had touched your skin this evening. With a bite to your lower lip and a steadying beat of your heart you leaned in close to him. Heisenberg’s lips pursed momentarily, the anticipation of your lips coming down on his own making something electric pulse inside of him.

But you stopped, an inch away from his lips.

His brows furrowed at being denied and that fact that you found that so endearing made you muffle a laugh between your tight lip smile.

Of course, he had to make you shudder, rub his knuckles across your cheek and dig his fingers into he back of your head. “What, pup?” His voice was barely a whisper, the sounds vibrating against your bottom lip and chin. The gentle nudge to close the distance left you breathless.

His lips were surprisingly soft, the scar noticeable against your lips but the bumpy tissue only served to make you melt against him. It was short, several gentle touches that made you shiver as you felt his nails scratch into your scalp.

Pressing your forehead to his own you sighed, want was there and he could feel it, taste it against your lips, feel it in the shiver on your flesh. A small zap hit your skin and the small yelp that escaped you only served to make him chuckle. “Did you just- was that electricity?” Your skin felt prickly suddenly, he only grinned more like a mad dog. Heisenberg wrapped an arm around your waist and yanked you beneath him, the series of shrieks you let out only making him laugh more. “You can be such a beast” They way your hands landed on his bare chest to smack him was short lived.

Some retaliation was to be had. So you scratched your nails down his body before landing on his waist. The tremble of his arms as he held himself above you made you smile. With a gentle nudge of your knee you trapped him in between your legs, pulling him down onto you by his waist. He huffed, hair falling and obscuring his heated gaze. It was instinct, to wrap your arms around him and feel his so warm and soft and strong against you. The scratchiness of his beard was felt at your neck, along with that his teeth meeting warm skin.

He sucked a bruise onto your neck with a roll of his hips.

“Do you want me?” He grumbled against your pulse, tongue soothing the bruise.

You nodded, digging your nails into his waist before dragging them up his back.

“No, no, pup” He nosed your ear, teeth finding your lobe with a gentle tug. “I need to hear it, use your words” It was almost a purr, enough to goosebump your skin and lift your hips.

“Want you, want you so much, please…” You exposed your neck more for him, felt his lips find your throat. “Good pup” His hands found the neck of the shirt and with one fluid motion you heard and felt all the buttons pop off. He pulled it apart to reveal your chest, he hummed at the sight before him. “Now I should draw this some day” His grin made your cheeks flush again, even more so when he pressed his face against your chest, a rub of his cheek scratching your soft skin.

Lips pressed, tongue drawing patterns as you muffled a whine and grabbed his hair and gave it a gentle tug. “Ka-oh god!” A particular hard bite at your ribs made you grip silver locks with more intention. He groaned at the rough handling of his hair, the strain on his neck as you tugged hard enough that he could see your pupils blown wide for him.

When Heisenberg leaned back, allowed space between both your heated skins, you ached.

Visibly ached.

You followed those talented scarred hands to the front of his trousers, watched as he unbuttoned them slowly. But you couldn’t stay away too long, fingers itched to feel him, to touch every part of him and find out what made him tick. You unrolled what was left of your his shirt and tossed it somewhere off the bed. When he saw your hands go between your legs he palmed himself at the sight of it.

“You want your hand, mhm? Or would you much rather prefer my cock?” He emphasized with a tight squeeze of his hardened length and wordless you replied by removing your hand and reaching for him once more. Ever the asshole, he gripped your hand away and raised his brows, he wanted those verbal answers.

Bastard.

“Your cock, please” Intertwining your fingers with his own you gently brought him back down to you for a long and sensual kiss. Against those lips you whispered, “Inside, want you inside now” just as another clap of thunder hit.

There were more clothes gone, scattered across the room unwanted and unneeded. Heisenberg had every intention of feeling you come apart around him when he entered you slowly. Each hiccuped whine shooting your arms more tightly around him, pressing him down closer to you. The heat he was already exuding was making you break out in a sweat, you felt his hands slide beneath you with a groan the further his slid into you.

He was buried to the hilt, tight heat so perfect he growl against the bruised flesh of your neck. “Fucking good little pup, taking me so good” His filthy words fell against your ear, short but pronounced thrusts making you dig your nails onto his back. “Yesss, don’t be afraid, don’t break so easily baby” Heisenberg leaned his head as far as he could to catch your gaze in all its lust blown glory. He kissed you again, more ferocity, more purpose, all tongues and teeth and demanding bites. The heels of your feet rested at his back side encouraging him deep into you with every thrust he delivered.

Being at the end of the bed doing this felt weirdly interesting, each thrust he gave you made the bed creak, lean away from the wall just a bit, it’s increasing squeak joining the chorus of the storm.

When you dragged your nails down his back, right towards his rear and gripped and moaned loud enough to have him shake, you saw something lift from the corner of your eye. You eyes squinted at the spoon suddenly mid air, you weren’t unaware of his gifts but why was he-

You train of thought was lost to you when he angled his thrusts just the right way to hit your sweetest of spots, every possible question was being tried and language had fallen at the bottom of your list of abilities. You arched into him, neck on display for his teeth to once again find, that tight hold on his rear remained and he seemed to really enjoy it by the sounds and sensations of his heated grunts. “Puppyyy, such a good pup, could stay buried in this hole all week” Oh you would let him, you wanted him in fact, why go back to the village, you’d rather put your days on this bed.

No matter how many dangerous items kept floating about, no matter how his skin felt almost electric as he thrusted into you more feverishly, this is what you wanted.

You wanted him.

“Then do it, oh god just do it please!” He hooked his arms beneath your knees and locked you beneath him either every intention of making your moans louder than the rain. Heisenberg unceremoniously pounded you, every hit making your toes curl and your voice choke up. “Gonna fuck a mess into you, you want it? Mhm?” Dangerous dangerous dangerous!

But you did.

Whimpered a series of broken yes yes yes, at his ear. The bruising hold proved necessarily, you felt your legs shake and stiffen all at once, heard several things sort of just go pop! It dawned on you that it had been the lights but that couldn’t have been the storm-

Your orgasm snuck up on you, quite literally hit you smack in the gut with Heisenberg at his tail end as well, it must’ve been seconds apart from one another. He moaned right against your ear, hips drilling into you with every intention of making you lose your god damn mind. Several objects clattered around you, startling you and in the process making you hold onto him.

His amused chuckle came out in breathless pants, the now darkened room only having a lone candle as the source of light. He gave your hip a gentle tap, “It’s okay, just shit that happens” He sounded somewhat sheepish as you both still panted. You reached up and cupped his sweaty cheek, fingers mapping a crias crossed scar. Here in the dimly lit room he still managed to be the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.

You wanted him again.

Wanted all the madness that came with him.

You pulled him down again to show him just that as you kissed him.

#ask #dianounais #re8 village #re8 #resident evil 8 #karl heisenburg x reader #karl heisenberg x you #heisenberg x reader #re8 heisenberg #re8 karl heisenberg #karl Heisenberg #Heisenberg #lord heisenberg x reader #lord heisenberg #fanfic tropes #ns*w

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yinxiong · 6 years

Text

paint me golden

Characters: Lee Jeno x Reader (3rd person perspective), Na Jaemin

Genre: artist + high school! AU | fluff, secret admirers, blind date

Word count: 2.4 k

Summary: maybe they’re both a little blind after all.

Notes: I finally started writing again, and this is the one piece I actually had the inspiration to finish for now haha... inspired by this au & this post

6:17 a.m.

She sees him by the river again.

Paint splattered clothing, dark hair ruffled by the morning breeze.

Pencils neatly laid out in the grass, sketchbook clutched tight.

Not many would get up at the crack of dawn just to draw outside.

In fact, she didn’t know anyone who enjoyed waking up before the sun had climbed at least halfway up the sky. Besides herself, probably.

Runs were never exciting; it was almost a chore, yet today marked the third day since the boy appeared on her trail and she was starting to get curious.

She was curious, but she wasn’t confident.

So once more she passes on, admiring gazes and wandering hearts left behind with the boy whose name she’s too shy to ask.

7:42 a.m.

He’s going to be late for school again.

Uniform hastily tossed over a white-turned-rainbow shirt, messy hair combed back with gel.

Pens stuffed into a thin metal case, notebooks shoved into a worn bag.

There’s too many people in line for coffee, though he’s been waiting for too long to give up now.

It’s been three days since Jeno started spending early mornings by the river, drawing the sunrise for his senior art portfolio. Coffee has never seemed more necessary to stay awake.

The tranquility was new to him; Seoul never truly slept, but it seemed to doze off while the sun lazily climbed out of bed to shine its early rays upon the restless city.

He liked the quiet, but he wasn’t a morning person.

So he rushes out with his regular fix, soft hums and rhythmic sketching tucked away in his pockets while he wonders how much longer before he can return to his carefree routine.

8:54 a.m.

She sits in class, staring at the sluggish hands of the clock that refuse to move faster.

It’s not that she doesn’t like physics. The subject is interesting and probably crucial to her dreams of becoming an engineer.

Some teachers, however, don’t offer much to capture her wavering attention.

Her eyes wander to the window, spotting a class of art students scattered across the lawn, easels and paint palettes set out beneath the flowering ash trees.

A certain mystery boy makes his way back into her consciousness, and she gives in to the daydreams.

Soft pink lips, straight sculpted nose.

Arched crescent brows, long fluttering lashes.

He’s a work of art, far prettier than the pieces hidden within his sketchbook.

9:05 a.m.

He stands outside, eyes flitting back and forth between his subject and his canvas.

The school building is the center of attention, tall lines marked by penciled guides. Acrylic stains his hands, smudging the premature painting if he’s not careful.

He dreams of becoming an architect, but sometimes there are distractions.

His gaze drifts to the figure sitting by the window, an unexpected muse amidst the orderly brick and steel and glass.

Her name is a mystery to Jeno, yet there is a strange awe and attraction that has grown since noticing her three days ago.

Flushed rosy cheeks, pouty red lips.

Warm unwavering eyes, restlessly tapping fingers.

She's a work of art, too pretty not to capture within his piece for the world to see.

11:39 a.m.

She pokes at her lunch, bored eyes skimming messily scribbled notes for an upcoming math quiz while her best friend jabbers on in her ear.

It’s background noise, ambient and almost soothing until she detects the muffled shout of her name.

Blinking, she jumps in surprise at the sudden nudge in her shoulder, the sharp poke in her side.

“I can’t believe you pay more attention to paper than your soulmate of seven years.”

Her friend’s eyes glimmer with amusement and a hint of mischief, matching the ghost of a smirk that twists across her lips.

“As I was saying, you need to meet me at the art museum after school, there’s something special I prepared for you.”

She’s confused, but being all too familiar with her friend’s antics, she agrees without much opposition.

“What’s the occasion?”

Nothing but an innocent wink is offered up, at which she realizes that she’d lost since the very start.

“You’ll see, honey.”

12:27 p.m.

He wolfs down his food, fingers itching to dance across the rough paper of his half-filled sketchbook before Jaemin reminds him to finish their history project that is due within the next hour.

It can wait, he thinks and fumbles for his assortment of ink pens until they’re forcibly removed from his grasp.

Scowling, Jeno glances at the orange-haired culprit, who only shrugs apathetically as he shoves a laptop into his open arms.

“I refuse to watch you fail your easiest class because you can’t take a break from drawing.”

Jaemin’s concerned expression suddenly twists into one of glee, and with a flash of his hand, there are two colorful slips of paper dangling teasingly in front of Jeno’s nose.

“And it looks to me like you don’t want these art exhibit tickets I’ve never had the chance to use.”

Jeno’s elated, not even giving the offer a second thought as he cracks open the computer, determined to claim his reward by the ringing of the bell.

“What am I going to do with the extra one though?”

Something like a knowing smirk makes its way across Jaemin’s lips, lasting a lengthy three seconds before the secret slips like a fish out of water.

“Give it to your date, of course.”

4:18 p.m.

She’s perched on the sprawling stairs of the museum, hiding in the shadow of the huge lion that stiffly guards the entrance.

It’s been ten minutes since the start of her wait, and the tenth time this week she has wondered why she ever agrees to anything her friend asks.

The girl hasn’t responded to any of her texts, hasn’t answered any of her calls. She should probably be concerned by the lack of contact, but knowing how often her best friend leaves her phone on silent, she’s not surprised.

It’s not the first time she’s been late, of course, so she could be anywhere from on the way to just leaving the school.

“Five more minutes,” she mumbles to herself, once more pulling out her phone to set an alarm for good measure.

The timer is counting down when there’s suddenly an unopened message blinking up at her, begging for the attention it eventually receives.

“What does she mean there’s someone else coming?”

4:23 p.m.

He races up the shallow steps of the museum, nearly tripping over his own feet out of pure excitement and anxiety.

Not much of a glance is spared at the few people milling about; not when there’s someone awaiting an apology for his tardiness.

The girl sits behind a statue and almost out of view, yet the moment Jeno spies her lonely figure it’s unmistakable that she’s the one Jaemin and his girlfriend have somehow roped him on a date with.

Grasping any last bit of confidence, he stumbles over, shaking dark strands from his eyes to meet her bewildered ones.

“Hi, I’m Jeno, and uh, you are…?” He shyly offers her a hand, patiently waiting for a response that never comes.

Her brows are furrowed and her mouth holds a question he’s not anticipating, rolling off her tongue after a brief moment of hesitation.

“Is this supposed to be a blind date?”

5:04 p.m.

She wishes she could say that Lee Jeno isn’t likeable.

He’s shy and nervous and awkward, trying his best to make conversation but trailing off whenever they run out of small talk to distract from the deafening silence.

It doesn’t last, thankfully.

She soon discovers the waterfall of words that spills from his smiling lips as they wander around the gallery, and while she doesn’t understand more than five of the countless art terms swimming about, it is an unexpected save to the seemingly tragic fate of their date.

His eyes are bright and animated, taking in the pieces with a delighted expression similar to that of a child seeing snow for the very first time.

It’s a little endearing, she has to admit, despite having only known him for less than an hour.

Yet there’s just something so familiar about the way he brushes soft hair from his face, the way he leans close to a painting that has caught his attention.

The thought nags at her mind, so painfully slow and stifling that she wants to disregard it completely.

Aivazovsky saves her from ignorance, though she’s not so sure about embarrassment.

They’re standing before one of his seascapes – a breathtaking sunrise, blues and oranges so softly melting into each other it’s almost not worldly possible – when she steals a glance at the boy besides her and startles, because she realizes that he’s the one who has been bathed in the same colors each morning for three days now.

When he turns to meet her gaze, there’s nothing she can do but flush a bright shade of rose, and along with a stray piece of hair, quickly tuck the revelation away behind her ear in hopes of forgetting until later.

5:41 p.m.

He wishes he hadn’t been so distracted by Renoir and Friedrich.

It’s not often that he is offered the opportunity to marvel at the works of his favorite Romantic and Impressionist artists in person, yet he can’t help but feel sorry for the girl being dragged around by his obsessive self.

That sentiment soon dissolves, much to his relief.

He was not at all expecting her, who was wearing a ridiculously cute physics pun shirt, to have any sort of interest in the exhibit, but then she opens her pretty pink lips and out floods a wave of questions for him, about his favorite artists, his favorite pieces, and he has never been happier to answer them if it meant he could keep hearing her voice.

Her eyes are wide and spirited, shining with a quiet awe that wasn’t there when they had first entered the museum together.

It makes his heart skip, watching her smile in admiration at the art that owns his very soul.

And he can’t put a word on it, but there’s just something so familiar about the way she fidgets her restless fingers, the way she glances at the sky in search of the perfect reply to their conversation.

Then it hits him with full force, stealing the air from his lungs and he’s left wondering why he didn’t see it earlier.

Jaemin might have been right about this date after all.

They’re waiting by the bus stop – surrounded by soft white petals that drift down, down as late summer takes her last breaths before young autumn comes slipping in from around the corner – when he blinks in the dying light of the sun and blanches, because he realizes that she’s the one who has been so perfectly framed by the same flowers for three days now.

When she spins around after bidding him goodbye, he can think of nothing but to gently catch her wrist in his timid hand, pulling her back from the bus to ask one hopeful question.

6:06 p.m.

“Could we possibly… do this again?”

She sits on the bus, head resting against the window, blankly watching the evening lights of the city rush past in a blur of color.

There is music playing from the headphones in her ears, but all she hears is the soft voice of Lee Jeno shyly asking her if she would like to meet with him again.

Jeno, who stumbled to her wearing his heart on his sleeve.

Jeno, who loves art with every centimeter of his living, breathing being.

Jeno, whose smile is the sun itself.

She didn’t think it was possible to fall for someone in a day, but one short date with the boy was really testing her limits.

It makes her want to scream into the clouds, complaining to Eros for letting go too early.

It makes her want to jump into the river, pretending time was standing still in the quiet depths.

But more than anything, it makes her want to grab his hand and run and run until they’re laughing too hard to run any farther.

She feels warmth, and thinks that perhaps, she could give this feeling a try.

So she sighs a blissful sigh, hands over her heart as she replays her answer.

8:39 p.m.

“Yes… I’d love to.”

He lies in his bed, head rolling around on the pillow, staring at the tiny crack in his ceiling that seemed to grow bigger with time.

There’s a faint ringing from his phone that sits somewhere on his desk, however, all he hears is her sweet voice breathlessly replying yes, she would like to meet him again.

Her, who met him with confusion on her face and curiosity in her eyes.

Her, who loves not art but science, yet still selflessly gives him her time without a complaint.

Her, whose smile is dusted with the stars themselves.

Jeno never would’ve thought to become the mess he was, but there are candles in his stomach and sparks in his chest and he’s not complaining.

Because he wants to hear her voice, to stay up talking until the unholy hours, only to wake up at the crack of dawn with phones clutched tight to the chest.

Because he wants to learn all her favorites, to take her on dates and spend a ridiculous amount of time nervously staring at her pretty hands, wondering if she’d be okay with him holding them.

And above all, because he wants to watch these feelings grow, to slowly open their hearts to each other until there’s nothing left between them but air.

He’s not sure if this is love, but if it is, he thinks it’s worth chasing after.

So Jeno laughs a joyous laugh, ears blooming scarlet when he admits to Jaemin that sure, his girlfriend is a great matchmaker after all.

12:00 a.m.

It’s the end of another night, and he is dreaming, dreaming of deep blues and shimmering golds.

She’ll still run into him at first light, stopping to stare, dumbstruck; though this time, she’ll be able to smile “good morning” instead.

And he’ll still admire her from afar, hands sometimes forgetting to draw; though this time, he can wave to her through the branches as well.

It’s the start of a new day, and she dreams of falling, falling… but he’ll catch her when she does.

fin.

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