#sports bra sweep

[captain-hawks]

STRESS RELIEF

♡ — atsumu miya x f!reader

Atsumu may be a legendary setter, but he’s also an incredibly sore loser. And all other forms of post-game slump stress relief pale in comparison to a particular one he shares with you.

18+ ONLY

wc — 2.4k

prompt — lactation kink

additional content — established relationship, fingering, squirting, coming in pants, coming untouched, unprotected sex, rough sex, creampie, cockwarming, questionable refractory periods, multiple orgasms, cum eating, insatiable Atsumu, Miya twin bickering, timeskip!Atsumu

╰┈➤ kinktober masterlist

“Is there a reason ya always call me to babysit after losin’ a game?” 

Atsumu can hear the exasperation in his brother’s voice on the other end of the line, dulled slightly by the hum of customers chattering away in the background. He ignores Osamu’s question, shifting slightly from where he’s seated on the bench in the locker room as he tugs at his sweat-soaked MSBY jersey, pulling the material free from its damp grip on his chest.

“Some godfather you are,” he snarks back, offering Bokuto a wave as he slaps him on the back while walking past him on his way to the showers. “And how’d ya know we lost anyway, ain’t ya at work?”

Osamu snorts, “Had the game on in the office while I was working on the books. You played like shit.”

“Bite me,” Atsumu huffs, running a hand through his haphazard blonde locks. 

“I’m leavin’ the restaurant in about an hour.”

“I’m droppin’ her off in forty-five.”

“Take a goddamn shower first, ya pig. I can smell you from here.”

“Fuck you, Samu.”

He can practically hear the middle finger that his brother proffers to the phone as Osamu laughs, hanging up on him. Atsumu trudges to the showers to wash away the grime from the court—and hopefully some of his sour mood in the process.

—

In the years that you’ve been together, Atsumu has always been a sore loser when it comes to his favorite sport, even more so once he went pro. He cycles through different ways of working through his disappointment with himself after tough games, ranging from forcing himself to run miles on end until he’s nearly throwing up when he regretfully calls you to come and pick him up halfway across town, to dragging Osamu out for impromptu boxing sessions (“Ya tryin’ to make yer face even more ugly?!”), to binge eating ice cream on the couch (until he’s then also throwing up). 

Sex, of course, is also one of his favorite (and least self-destructive) options, though his frustration-fuelled stamina is enough to leave you both fucked out beyond belief. 

However, following the birth of your daughter just over a year ago, Atsumu found…a new form of stress relief.

One where he’d prefer to have no interruptions. 

Hence the recruitment of Uncle Osamu, who probably just thinks his pouty, needy brother forces him into babysitting duties to have loud, raunchy sex with his wife all night. 

Not quite.

—

“You’re worse than our daughter,” you fondly groan at Atsumu when he immediately starts tugging off your jacket the moment you step in your front door after swinging by Osamu’s house, his impatient energy coming off of him in waves.

Atsumu’s sound of protest dies in his throat when he spins back around from hanging it up to watch you slip off your shoes, his pupils expanding from eager to lust-blown the moment his gaze falls on the two wet spots already soaking through the thin material of your sundress.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, his lips slotting tenderly against yours as he pushes you up against the wall, one hand coming up to cup your tender breasts.

His tongue dances along the seam of your lips, and you part them, sighing into your husband’s mouth as he deepens the kiss. You card your fingers through his still-damp hair, keening at the feeling of his thumb teasing your peaked nipples through the fabric. The arousal simmering in your gut sparks, pleasure seeping through your nerves with each deft sweep of his hands along your skin as he effortlessly unhooks your bra, tosses it to the ground, and pulls down the straps of your dress.

“Can’t even wait till we get to the bedroom?” You ask teasingly.

“Nope,” he replies, though the sound is muffled from where his mouth is now latched on to one of your engorged, leaking tits. 

Atsumu has never been one for patience. 

You haven’t pumped all day, and the soothing feeling of Atsumu needily lapping at your tender nipples, milk flowing into his mouth, has you whimpering in relief. Knees going weak with a flush of arousal, you start to slide to the floor, and Atsumu follows suit, his warm body slotted between your spread legs as he continues to drink from you. 

The house is quiet save for the wet, sucking sounds of Atsumu’s mouth slurping at your swollen tits, punctuated at intervals by his groans—the vibration of which makes you shiver—and the breathy, keening noises falling from your own lips.

You reach down, carding your fingers through his hair, running them from his messy, blonde strands to the soft, dark brown undercut beneath. He sucks harder, letting his teeth graze a pert nipple in the way he knows makes your toes curl, and you gasp, arching into his touch as you give his hair a rough tug in return. 

Atsumu moans, and you do it again, tipping his head back enough to take in the dazed look in his eyes, milk coating his lips and dripping down his chin. Suddenly, you become very aware of the way your arousal-soaked panties are clinging wetly to your folds, sticky and plastered against your eager, aching cunt. 

A knowing smirk teases its way across his full lips, and Atsumu snakes a hand up the skirt of your dress, running a finger down your slit. Separated from his deft touch by both your stockings and underwear, he teases you by pushing his fingertip firmly against the nylon and cotton where your fluttering entrance is. The material gives just enough, breaching your hole and scraping wetly against the tight walls of your cunt, and you whine, bucking into his touch as you plead for more. 

You can feel another spurt of milk dribbling from one of your tits, and Atsumu dips his head back down to catch it, tongue tracing a broad stroke from your belly to your nipple as he laps it all up. And just when he latches back on to milk you further, you hear a ripping sound as he tears a hole in your stockings, one large enough to slip his hand into. He then uses his thumb to pull your panties aside, swiftly plunging two fingers right into your damp pussy knuckle deep. 

“Atsumu,” you pant out, bucking up into him, the slick squelch of him finger fucking you warring with the sounds of his wet mouth fervently sucking on your breasts. 

He groans your name, drinking deeply from one tit as he massages and squeezes the other, pulling away for a moment to let milk squirt and spray against his lips. The feeling building inside of you burns its way down your throat and into the pit of your abdomen, your tightly coiled composure beginning to unfurl amid a slick, exhilarating thrum of pleasure. 

Feeling the way the muscles in your thighs have clenched, he swipes his thumb over your clit, stroking circles into the sensitive bundle of nerves as he firmly curls his fingers inside of you. The tidal wave of pleasure bursts, clear liquid spraying from your cunt as you come hard. 

Atsumu’s own steady sucking grows sloppy as he moans loudly when he feels you squirt all over him, smearing spit and milk across the swell of your tits. Bringing his fingers to his mouth, he pauses in his ministrations for a moment to suck off the creamy results of your orgasm before returning to the streams of milk leaking down your chest. 

“Haaaaaah, oh f-fuck,” he groans as his entire body tenses and then goes entirely limp, arms wrapped loosely around your waist as he presses his forehead against your breasts, breathing hard. 

“Did you come in your pants again?” you ask, already knowing the answer. 

He nods, voice slightly muffled against your skin, “Ya know what you squirting does ta me.”

Playing with his hair, you smile, “Good thing we have all night.”

And Atsumu makes the most of it, both of you stumbling into the bedroom in your post-orgasmic bliss and collapsing against the mattress, slowly taking turns peeling off one another’s clothes until you’re both naked, his cum-soaked boxers left forgotten on the floor.

The thrum of anxiety and frustration from the game still lingers, and you know Atsumu hasn’t had his fill yet.

If this didn’t turn the both of you on so much, you know he’d otherwise latch on for hours on end without stopping once for air, suckling every last drop of milk from your swollen tits till the sun begins peeking over the horizon. And it’s not that you don’t spend hours with him lapping up your milk on nights like this, it’s just also always littered with copious amounts of orgasms, his normal refractory period taking a backseat to whatever milk-fuelled stamina keeps cum pumping from his cock far more times than either of you could ever hope to count. 

An hour later, you’re on your back, legs spread as Atsumu drags his tongue up your slit, lapping up a glob of his cum that’s leaking out of you. He leans in to kiss you, his filthy mouth slotting against yours tenderly, and you can feel as more cum from his last two climaxes drips out of you and onto the sheets below. 

He’s left your tits untouched for a bit, mouth otherwise occupied swallowing down your moans as he fucked you deep and slow. Milk dribbles down your body, and you arch your body up into his where he hovers over you, grabbing one of his hands and dragging it through the wet, sticky mess. 

“Here I thought I was the needy one,” he quips, a boyish grin on his face. 

You raise an eyebrow. “Don’t act like you’re done.”

“Not even close.”

This time, when his hot lips latch onto your tits, there’s nothing slow or gentle about it. He’s greedy in the way he sucks and slurps, palming at your breasts and groping your ass and squeezing your thighs. Need courses through you as you wrap your legs around his waist, both of you moaning in unison as his thick cock sinks into your cunt again. 

The sound of him fucking his cum back inside of you is filthy, and you revel in it, nails digging into his shoulders and the heel of your foot pressing into his lower back as you urge him to go deeper. 

He bites and sucks at the sensitive skin of your breasts, the mattress creaking loudly beneath you as he begins to roughly fuck you into it, cum leaking onto his balls and dripping down your ass. Your chest heaves as pleasure snaps through you like a whip, drunk on the combined feeling of the downright feral way Atsumu’s drinking your milk and the relentless way he’s pounding into your tight cunt. 

When you come this time, it’s with a shout, vision going white as your pussy clenches down on his shaft. His orgasm follows in kind, Atsumu sucking on your nipple like his life depends on it while his cock pulses within the grip of your slick walls, once again filling you to the brim with another load of hot cum. 

Atsumu collapses on top of you afterward, both of your bodies limp with exhaustion, though not enough to stop him from keeping his mouth latched to one of your tits, idly sucking away. 

—

You don’t realize that the two of you fell asleep, not until you rouse to the soft morning light coming through your bedroom window and a round of knocks coming from your front door. When you go to shift, you find Atsumu’s head pillowed on chest, still unconsciously sucking on one of your nipples, even in his sleep. You roll your eyes fondly, stroking his hair. 

Atsumu hums, stirring slightly. Softened cock still lodged inside of you, he rolls his hips, and you moan softly at the combined pleasure from the feeling of him sliding through the copious amounts of cum he filled you with and the hypersensitivity of being touched when you’re still half asleep. His eyes open slightly, and he gives you a tired little smile as he groans, mouth falling open as he rocks into you again. 

His cock is quick to react, the feeling of his thick shaft hardening inside of the tight squeeze of your cunt leaving you breathless. 

There’s another series of knocks at the front door, followed by the buzz of a text message on his phone. 

Atsumu presses a kiss to your nipple before dragging his lips up the column of your throat, mouth capturing yours. 

Another knock. 

He pulls out and thrusts back into you deeply, languidly, cock dragging against your cum-soaked walls with ease. 

Your phone buzzes. 

Lazy, gentle kisses follow. 

His phone begins to ring. 

Atsumu reaches out in the direction of the nightstand, shoving his phone to the floor and ignoring everything but the way you keen and writhe beneath him as he fucks you through one more wet, tired, blissful orgasm. 

—

Osamu, fully dressed in his Onigiri Miya uniform, looks like he’s weighing the pros and cons of fratricide when Atsumu finally opens the front door in a robe, his hands and a brush no match for what an all-night marathon of sex and sucking on your tits has done to his hair. 

“I have a staff meetin’ in an hour, ya horny bastard,” he growls when he walks in, the malice a direct contrast to the way he then proceeds to coo over his sleeping niece when he sets her down in her carrier. 

“We slept in,” Atsumu says casually, though his air of nonchalance is thrown off by the way Osamu unceremoniously shoves the diaper bag into his arms. 

“Yer a shit liar.”

Exiting the  bathroom looking far more put together than your husband, you place a finger to your lips as you gesture to your child, who’s somehow conked out despite their raised voices. 

Osamu offers you an apologetic look, though he shoots his brother another glare when you make your way into the kitchen. 

“Thanks again, Samu. Want something for breakfast before you head to work?” you ask him. 

Atsumu pours himself a glass of orange juice in the meantime. 

“Toast would be great.”

“Thought ya were in a rush,” Atsumu snarks before rolling his eyes and taking a large sip from his cup. 

Rifling through the fridge, you brandish a hand in the direction of the myriad of beverages on the shelf. “Drink?”

“Milk’s fine.”

Atsumu chokes. 

— likes, comments, &/or reblogs are greatly appreciated!

#atsumu miya x reader #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu #atsumu miya #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu #haikyu #haikyuu smut #dee writes

[celiastjamesoscar]

Sweat and Serendipity

Pairings: Sam Carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: While working out at your local gym, you run into someone you haven’t seen before.

Warnings: R and Sam both being horn dogs

Word Count: 4.9K

AN: this was from a request a couple days ago and I hope you enjoy it! It’s a little bit shorter than my other work but I didn’t want to stray too far from the request

The upbeat melody of ‘Funky Town’ rang throughout the pitch-black room, causing Y/N to stir in her sleep. The woman groaned as she rolled over and fumbled around the end table by her bed before finally grabbing her phone. She shut off her alarm and then checked the time, 4:30 am. She let out another groan as she forced herself up in bed.

She stared blankly at the wall with a zombie-like expression on her face. She needed to go to the gym this morning, fearing she might break her cycle of going at the ass-crack of dawn. And she also knew that if she didn’t go just this one time, she would never go back again this early.

After a few minutes of blank staring, she swung her legs over to the side and pushed herself off the bed. Her bare feet met with the cold wooden floor, sending shivers up her spine. She stumbled into her bathroom and flicked on the lights, instantly shutting her eyes as she covered them while mumbling a curse word.

Once her eyes had adjusted to the blinding lights, she moved her hands and slowly opened her eyes. She looked just as she felt: a soldier who was returning half her weight, or much like a zombie who had been stuck in a mall listening to ‘Dance Monkey’ on repeat since the start of the apocalypse.

When she saw the bags under her eyes, the memories from last night flooded her mind.

She was staying at her friend Anika’s house, and they were celebrating the release of Speak Now (Taylor’s Version). The worst part about the night was that she was so wasted she couldn’t remember any songs from the album. Hell, she doesn’t even know how she got home. The few things she could recall were faint memories of Anika violently sobbing during ‘Last Kiss,’ and she also vaguely remembered herself talking about Rhea Ripley and wanting to get pinned by her.

Shaking off the bad memories, Y/N put in her contacts and brushed her teeth. When she finished up in the bathroom, she turned off the lights and went back into her room. She opened up a dresser drawer and grabbed a pair of socks and a sports bra, along with some shorts. She sat on her bed and put her socks on, then stood up and quickly changed into her shorts. She took off her shirt and put on her bra, and then put the shirt back on. She raised her left and smelled herself, “smells fine,” she mumbled as she packed her gym bag; it was just a spare change of clothes and some shampoo and condition. She hated showering at the gym, but she also hated driving home sweaty. She swung her bag over her shoulder and grabbed her phone and earbuds, and walked toward her bedroom door. She did one final sweep to make sure she didn’t forget anything before she left the room and shut her door.

Y/N made her way into the kitchen and grabbed her jug of water that she left on the island. She filled it with some ice and then filled it up with water. Once it was full, Y/N put the lid back on and grabbed a protein shake from the fridge. She made her way to the door with her water jug and her ‘breakfast’ drink in hand as she held her car keys and went out the door. Y/N locked the door and walked down the stairs into the lobby, and left the apartment building. She walked across the street to the parking garage, found her car, got in, and started it.

Y/N sat in her car for a few minutes, debating if she really wanted to go to the gym today, and decided that if she did go today, that would mean she could eat more cake at her cousin’s birthday party that was later today. Y/N smiled to herself at that thought, backing her car up and driving towards the gym, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel with excitement. She opened her protein shake and drank it throughout the drive as The Killers filled the silence. The sky was still dark with dusk hours, but Y/N appreciated the beauty of the early morning. The Big Apple was always hectic, but the morning hours always seemed peaceful.

As she pulled into the gym’s parking lot, she noticed a single car, and it immediately caught her attention. At most, there were three people at the gym this early; herself, a shy dude in his early twenties but shredded, and a decently attractive soccer mom. But this car didn’t belong to either of them, so that meant someone new was here, and it sparked her interest.

Frattini’s was a small gym and not a popular one at all, so the people that worked out there were either locals or people who hated crowded gyms. Y/N was the latter; she hated working out with many people around, and she also had a personal vendetta against Planet Fitness, but not that that mattered. The gym was an old one and had been around long before Y/N was born, but she loved it nonetheless. The building was old, and the metal roof sometimes leaked when it rained. The machines were old, and the padding was worn down on almost all of them, and sometimes the treadmills didn’t work, but Y/N would rather die a death by a thousand cuts than ever step inside a Planet Fitness or any other gym for that matter. This place was like Y/N’s second wife, falling short of Cate Blanchett, and she would never leave her for a younger, more modern gym, no way.

She finished off her shake, grabbed her bag along with her phone, water jug, and earbuds, stepped out of her car, and walked towards the doors. She used her green key fob to unlock the door and walked inside. She could hear the faint sound of Guns N Roses playing over the speakers as she walked up to the front desk and scanned her key fob again. Y/N didn’t know why she had to scan it-she believed it was a way of checking in-but she was a rule follower and did what she was supposed to.

After she checked in, Y/N walked past the desk and opened up the door to the actual gym. She didn’t see who was there with her, but she knew she would find them eventually. She walked about ten feet from the door and stopped before the red cubby holes. Y/N lightly laughed as she saw a light pink gym bag in a cubby towards the middle. She was slightly glad that the stranger didn’t take the one on the end of the right side, as that one was hers, and she hated it when someone would place their stuff in it. Well, it wasn’t technically hers, but everyone who came here throughout the day had their own personal cubby, so she naturally got defensive over it.

When Y/N walked past the door, to the left, there was a wall that was lined with treadmills, and that wall cut back into a smaller section of the gym that’s used for, well, Y/N didn’t quite know what that side was for, she just knew that the flooring was turf and it slightly agitated her. On the same wall that had the cubbies, it was lined up with three stair masters that Y/N hated, along with a pull-up machine, two different hip abduction machines, and some weird core machine you twisted on that scared Y/N. The second row included more machines; a couple of ellipticals, two bikes, a lat pulldown, one chest press, one tricep extension, and a bicep curl. There was a third row, but Y/N didn’t mess with that stuff too much except for the linear leg press. On the right wall was a full-length mirror that took up the entire width of the wall, with a rack of dumbbells toward the left side of the wall and leg machines with a squat rack towards the right. On the wall across the cubbies was the deadlift bar with another full-length mirror in front of it. And if Y/N walked to the left of the deadlift set, she would enter that turf area she hated.

Y/N placed her bag in her cubby and put her earbuds in as she walked over to the linear leg press with her water jug. She put the right amount of weighted plates on it and moved to lie down on the backrest. Y/N pushed the bars out that kept it locked, and when she brought it down and went to push up, her left eye caught something. She turned her head to see what had caught her eye, and her knees buckled, causing the leg press to come down quickly. Luckily, her legs didn’t go inward, and they just slammed into her chest, causing her to lose her breath.

Over on the turf was a captivating Latina doing pull-ups. She wore leggings with just a bra, and Y/N had to wipe the drool off her chin as her eyes ogled the woman’s back muscles. However, when her legs buckled, and the press came down on her, it caused a loud bang to echo throughout the vaguely empty gym, which caused the woman to drop down from the bar and face Y/N.

Y/N sent the woman an awkward smile followed by an awkward wave, and she mentally cursed herself for it. But she changed her mind when the woman let out a small laugh and wiggled her fingers at Y/N, giving her a playful wave before returning to her pull-ups.

When the woman turned around, a giant grin overtook Y/N’s face while she did a fist pump, clearly amazed at herself. Y/N then decided to continue her workout and began doing proper leg presses.

After she finished her first set, she started listening to music while subtly moving her eyes over to the turf side. She probably would have checked the woman out by now, but the turf also had mirrors on its wall that you could see the rest of the gym out of. So if Y/N had checked the woman out, the Latina would have seen Y/N nearly kill herself because she had tried to. The alluring woman had moved to cable rows, and Y/N had to pry her eyes away from the woman’s biceps, which were glistening with sweat.

‘I just wanna lick-ouch!’ Y/N thought as she continued her creepy staring but was cut off when her legs gave out again, causing the woman to look over at Y/N. This time, Y/N didn’t meet her gaze as she pushed up on the press and locked it. She got up from the seat and re-racked her weights. She refused to do leg stuff simply because she needed her leg strength to mow down children at her cousin’s birthday and not because the woman of her dreams kept making them weak.

Y/N grabbed her jug and phone and moved to the lat pull-down. She decided she would do her pull again, and also because she wanted her back to look good in case the beautiful woman decided to leave scratches on it.

Ten minutes had passed, and Y/N finally finished her set. She had started to work up a sweat and wiped it off with her shirt. Unbeknownst to her, the woman from earlier had caught the action and stared at Y/N’s abs. Sam felt she had looked at the stranger’s abs, but she couldn’t help. She thought the woman was a little awkward just based on their interaction from earlier, and against her better judgment, Sam wanted to know her better. She waited until Y/N moved to the chest press before walking toward her.

Y/N had been so focused on not embarrassing herself anymore that she didn’t see the woman approach her until she was standing in front of her. She took one earbud out to listen to the woman. “Are you done with this?” Aphrodite asked while gesturing to the lat pull-down machine. “Oh, yeah. Go ahead,” Y/N said while looking at the woman, “hey, I am sorry about earlier.”

Sam looked at Y/N with a raised eyebrow before she released what the woman was apologizing about. “Don’t worry about it; I’m just glad you aren’t hurt too bad,” Sam says in a gentle tone as she sits down on the seat of the machine. Y/N nods her head at Sam’s words and continues with her workout.

Twenty minutes had passed since their short conversion, and Y/N was done for the day. She was getting ready to leave when Sam asked her for help. “Would you mind spotting me?” Sam asked quietly, almost as if she was afraid to ask for help.

Y/N took a drink from her jug before nodding, “Of course.” She followed Sam to the bench press and stood at the head of the seat. She watched Sam add her plates to the bar and made a look of shock as she realized that Sam might be stronger than her, and she had to ignore the fire she felt in her core.

Sam lay on the bench and gripped the bar before slightly pushing it off the rack and bringing it down to her chest. Y/N’s heart skipped a beat as she watched Sam push up on the bar like it was easy work, and she continued to do 12 reps. Y/N helped Sam re-rack the bar as she took a break and sat up. “I never got your name,” Sam stated breathlessly, but she couldn't tell if it was from the bench press or the attractive woman in front of her.

“Oh, I’m Y/N. It's nice to officially meet you,” Y/N says with a smile as she extends her hand toward Sam. Sam accepts Y/N’s hand and slides her own into the woman’s. Y/N nearly melted onto the floor at the feeling of Sam’s rough hand against hers and had to hold back her rated-R thoughts when Sam gave her hand a gentle yet firm shake.

On the other hand, Sam felt something she had never felt before when her skin had made contact with Y/N. She felt that spark you only hear about in movies or books, the type of spark you feel when you find the one, and it shocked her. Instead of being an asshole like she wanted, Sam gave Y/N’s hand a firm shake, not meaning to be gentle about it. “I’m Sam, and it's nice to meet you as well,” Sam replied with a smile as she dropped Y/N’s hand. She then moved to lie down on the bench again and finish out her sets.

After her third and final set, Y/N helped her re-rack the bar again and the weights. When Y/N looked at Sam, she finally noticed that she was a couple of inches shorter than her, and for some reason, it boosted Y/N’s confidence. But that confidence quickly died when Y/N saw a small bead of sweat trail down Sam’s abdomen. Her face became red, and her tongue dry as her mind was filled with raunchy thoughts again. So she pretended she wasn’t in the middle of a gay panic and drank some water, trying to calm herself down while keeping her tongue wet for talking purposes and no other reason.

The two walked together toward the cubbies and grabbed their things. Sam pretended to look for something when Y/N asked, “How come I’ve never seen you here before?”

Sam chuckled at the question and looked over her right shoulder, “I moved here a few months ago, and I decided I needed a good gym to work out at. I tried a few different ones, but none of them stuck,” Sam said with a shrug of her shoulders.

“So why give Frattini’s a try?” Y/N asked with a playful smile before adding, “Not that I’m complaining, though.”

Sam rolled her eyes at the comment but returned the playful smile, “I prefer quality over quantity; I’m not a fan of chain gyms, and I like supporting the smaller ones.”

“Well, I don’t think you’ll find too much quality here, but it's a small gym, and everyone is nice here. And I also prefer smaller gyms,” Y/N said as she slung her bag over her shoulder. Sam copied the woman’s actions with her own bag and started walking toward the door with the woman. Y/N opened the door and held it for Sam, and Sam did the same thing with the front door.

The two walked out to their separate cars as the early morning sun barely peeked above the horizon. “I hope to see you around sometime, Sam,” Y/N said with a smile and hopeful eyes. She didn't know why, but she wanted to see Sam again soon.

“You will. And thank you for helping me, Y/N,” Sam replied as she opened her car door as well.

“Anytime,” Y/N said as she gave Sam one final smile before getting into her car and shutting the door. Sam smiled as she watched Y/N drive off before getting into her car, looking forward to seeing Y/N again soon.

Y/N shifted uncomfortably as she drove home; she regretted not showering, but again, she was glad she got to walk out with Sam. Her mind drifted off with thoughts of Sam, and she wondered when she would see the beautiful woman. She regretted not asking her for her number, but she felt that it might have been too forward.

When the next morning arrived, instead of moping around in bed, Y/N sprang out of bed with excitement. She quickly brushed her teeth and put in her contacts while she eagerly got dressed. She grabbed her phone, earbuds, and water jug before entering the kitchen. Y/N refilled her jug and put the lid back on as she moved toward the door. She grabbed her keys, locked the door, and basically skipped out to her car. She turned on her car and pulled out of the garage as excitement overtook her body.

Y/N knew it was crazy to be this excited at 4:45 in the morning, but she couldn’t help it. Her mind had been plagued with thoughts of Sam so much that during her cousin’s birthday party, she forgot to get a piece of cake she had worked so hard for.

As Y/N pulled up to the gym, she almost screamed with happiness; it would be just her and Sam again today. She parked her car, turned it off, and flew out of the car with all her things. She scanned her key fob twice and acted calm and collected as she placed her things in her cubby. Y/N never liked working on Saturdays, but she would force herself to like it if she got Sam all to herself. She walked over to the leg press and hoped she could get leg day in, but just as she laid down, Sam walked out of the bathroom and stopped right in front of Y/N. “Hey, sailor,” Sam said with a flirty tone, and Y/N almost did a repeat of yesterday morning, but she caught herself and started her workout.

“Missed me already?” Y/N questioned as she pushed up with her legs, trying her best to focus on building her leg strength and not the gorgeous woman currently towering over her. Sam wore the same outfit from yesterday but in a different color, and Y/N had to fight back a bark.

Sam scoffed at Y/N’s words, “Of course not; I just happened to see you struggling, and I decided to offer you my support.”

Y/N finished up her set and locked the machine before sitting up slightly. “You wound me, Sam,” Y/N said with a hurt expression that quickly turned into a playful one.

“Well, if I wound you so much, I guess you wouldn’t want to work out with me then,” Sam suggested with a sigh before she pretended to walk off.

When Y/N saw Sam turn away from her and begin to walk off, she quickly stood up. “I’d like to work out with you,” Y/N spewed out quickly, causing Sam to turn around and raise her eyes rows, “only if you want me to, though.”

Sam laughed at the woman’s nervousness as she walked toward the girl and gently slapped her arm, “come on, let’s do some legs.” Y/N smiled at Sam’s words and followed the Latina to the squat rack, her heartbeat picking up for an unknown reason.

Y/N helplessly watched as Sam added her weights to the bar and ducked under it, and stood up, resting it on her shoulders as she gripped the bar. “Spot me?” She asked, snapping Y/N out of her thoughts. She nodded her head as her hands ghosted over Sam’s hips. She knew this wasn’t the proper way to spot someone, but she saw an opportunity and took it.

Sam’s body heated up when she felt Y/N’s hands close to her hips. She knew that this wasn’t the correct way to have a spotter, but she enjoyed having Y/N’s hands on her hips and didn’t want to lose contact.

When Sam would squat down with the bar, Y/N slightly copied the woman’s movements, ensuring everything was appropriately aligned. Sam suddenly felt nervous when Y/N copied her moves, and when she stood back up, her eyes locked with Y/N’s in the mirror.

Y/N gave Sam a polite smile with her hands still resting on the woman’s hips. “Hi,” Y/N breathlessly said.

“Hi,” San replied with a faint smile. She couldn’t tell if her heartbeat was going a mile a minute because of the squats or if she was simply flustered due to the attractive woman standing behind her. She refused to believe it was the latter.

Sam continued the rest of her set, and when she was done, she and Y/N would trade places. Sam tried her best to make sure that Y/N’s legs didn’t dip inward, but she was too distracted. Every time Y/N would stand up, she would let out a small groan, and Sam hated the way it made her feel.

When the two finished with squats, they started on the leg press. Sam watched with hooded eyes as Y/N’s quads flexed every time the woman straightened her legs. By the time Y/N had finished all three of her sets, Sam had got speechless.

“Sam? You okay?” Y/N asked as she got up from the seat and stood before Sam, gently placing her hands on Sam’s forearms. The contact pulled Sam out of whatever trenches they were, and she shook her head, “No, yeah, I’m good. Sorry about that; I was just distracted.”

Y/N nodded at Sam’s words, gave the woman’s forearms a soft squeeze, and dropped her hands down to her sides. “Alright then, what next?” Y/N asked with a gentle smile.

Almost an hour later, the two women had completed their workout, and Sam somehow managed to avoid going into cardiac arrest. Y/N was glad she got to spend more time with the pretty woman. “So, do you work out on Sundays?” Y/N asked when they got to their cubbies. She was messing around with her bag and refused to look at Sam.

“No, that’s my only day off. Why do you ask?” Sam questioned as her heart thumped steadily against her ribcage; she hoped that Y/N would ask her out, either in a platonic or friendly way. She didn’t care which one it was; just as long as she was with Y/N, she was ecstatic.

Y/N stopped messing with her hand and turned to face Sam. Any previous nerves were gone, nowhere to be seen. The woman's confident smile lit up the gym, and her eyes danced across Sam’s body. On the other hand, Sam seemed to absorb Y/N’s nervousness; her face began to heat up, her palms started to sweat, and for the life of her, she could not look the taller woman directly in the eye.

“I was hoping you would want to do something with me tomorrow? You know, outside of the gym,” Y/N asked as she put her bag over her shoulder, getting ready to head to the showers.

“Why does it have to be tomorrow and not today?” Sam asked when she finally made eye contact with Y/N. She noticed how the woman’s cheeks pulled with her smile, indicating that her confidence was a facade to hide her nerves.

Y/N perked up when she heard Sam’s request, and she instantly beamed. “Oh, I didn’t know if you had plans for today. But if you don’t, I would love to go do something with you later,” Y/N said as she shuffled from one foot to another but maintained a smile.

“I don’t have anything else to do today, so I’m free whenever,” Sam responded while matching Y/N’s smile. She had just met the other girl yesterday, but she couldn’t help the gravitational pull she felt towards the taller woman.

Y/N nodded her head at Sam’s words and slightly pulled on the strap that was across her chest, “Sweet! I mean, okay. We can get breakfast or something once I finish my shower.”

A small laughter rang throughout the gym when Y/N mentioned her shower. “You’re seriously taking a shower here?” Sam asked with a small laugh.

“Of course, I can’t smell bad for our date,” Y/N replied but froze as she called it a date. She hadn’t meant to call it one, but she couldn’t help but yearn for a date with the beautiful woman before her. Y/N noticed how Sam caught her slip up and the way she froze, so she decided to direct the attention away from her. “Unless you would want to join me?” She asked with a smirk that surprised Sam.

The remark flew through Sam’s ear and out the other as embarrassment overtook her. She was never flustered easily, but there was something about Y/N that caused her entire body to act out of line. “You aren’t that slick, Y/N. I’ll just wait for you out here,” Sam said with a smile as she tried her best to hide her evident excitement. She would storm into heaven and hell if it meant she could see Y/N naked in her bed, but she kept those thoughts to herself. The last thing Y/N needed to know was that Sam had been thinking about fornicating with her since they started working out together.

“Are you sure? This is a once-in-a-lifetime offer, and it expires in ten seconds,” Y/N said as she walked backward to the showers, and both women ignored how she almost tripped.

“I’m sure, Y/N, you won’t win me over that easily. Just hurry up,” Sam replied with a small smile as she grabbed her things. She watched as Y/N asked again if she wanted to join her before the taller woman disappeared into the shower room.

Y/N practically ran into the closest shower and stripped in record time. She did a quick rinse with soap and water; Sam told her to be quick about it, and she listened. She finished up her shower and threw on her clothes, and calmly walked out of the shower room with a smile, but her grin dropped as she saw that Sam was nowhere to be seen.

She walked to the cubbies and saw that Sam’s bag was gone, but she found a small note in her own cubby.

‘My sister cut herself with a knife trying to cut an apple, and I have to take her to the hospital. I’m still looking forward to our breakfast later today. Call me!

Sam ;)

XXX-XXX-XXXX’

Y/N smiled at the note as she pushed the door to the lobby open with her back. She pulled out her phone and sent Sam a quick text message asking if her sister was alright, to which she got an immediate reply of a picture of Sam and her little sister sitting in her car together. The sister had her right hand wrapped in a bloody bandage resting in her lap while her left hand was flipping the camera off. She had no smile as opposed to her older sister, who had a giant one on her face and gave the camera a slight thumbs up.

She was going to ask if she needed to reschedule their date, but Y/N erased the message when Sam sent, ‘I’ll drop the child off at the ER, and we can eat shitty hospital food while she gets stitches, my treat!’ Y/N smiled at the message and returned a picture of herself with a thumbs up, eager to see Sam again, even if it was in an awful hospital cafeteria.

#sam carpenter #scream #melissa barrera #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter x female reader

[hoseoksluna]

STORY | knj

pairing: soft dom!namjoon x reader

genre: smut

word count: 7.8k

summary: yours and namjoon’s story is a bit more perverted than traditional.

warnings: serious big dick namjoon, rough touches, hair pulling, use of pet names and titles, dom/sub dynamics, horny namjoon can't help but palm himself:(, desperation, masturbation, spanking, praising, tit slapping, nipple play, teasing, oc and namjoon not being comfortable with certain practices, playful orgasm denial, oral sex (m. and f. receiving), rimming && ass play :3, cum eating yum yum, tit fucking, orgasm countdown fuck

note: smut is so fucking difficult to write but i loved every second of it. i love writing about namjoon, he just makes me feel so safe. this is purely my fantasy with him and i'll probably dream about this for a long, long time. please, take your time reading this as it's pretty long. i hope you enjoy it and that it makes you dream like it made me dream. as always, let me know what you think in the comments, like the post and if you want to—reblog, but i won't pressure you angels <3. love you guys so much, thank you for all the love. kisses!

side note: i miss namjoon and i wish he were here. all i can do is watch his lives and pretend he never left for the military.

Namjoon makes himself comfortable on the wooden chair before you.

The scene is set. Like a mermaid bathing in the sun, you rest your elbows on the cold rim of the ivory bathtub. Small surges of violet-tinted water, perfumed with your scent, blanket your body in a thin layer of glittery sheen. They kiss the tiger stripes along the curve of your bottom as it rolls over, passing by the dip in the small of your waist, breathing in your patchouli fragrance in greeting. The bath bomb, cornered by your knees, sizzles and spins, the width of the tub allowing your form to float like a little fish in the open sea as copiously as you please.

A gift from your loving boyfriend. Both the clawfoot, and the bath bomb.

The scene expands. Your Eric slouches in his seat, balancing his greatest and most stellar possession on top of his lap with one hand while he runs the other through his silver mane. He fits perfectly in the picturesqueness of the background. Soft orange and chocolate tiles zig zag behind his back, transposing him momentarily into a sunlit illustration, where he rests in the shade of a palm tree on a faraway beach. Reads the book to pass the time as he waits for you to emerge from the waters. Sets it down on his lap as soon as his gaze catches yours. Periwinkle clams for a bra, panties thin and translucent from the oncoming waves, you rest your front on the sand. He smiles down at you and you know for a fact you won’t be able to get on your feet. Might have to learn how to walk, too.

You keep this picture in your heart. Mentally, you rip out the page. Fold it and tuck it somewhere within you to keep it safe.

Legs outstretched by the sides of the tub, clad in slacks in the muted color of a persimmon, it’s almost as though you’re propped on his lap. Sporting a simple white button-down, sleeves rolled, you’re close enough to touch the material if you so much as wished so. From his angle, Namjoon sees nothing but the roundness of your eyes through the brownish rims of his glasses, hair unkempt in their dampness as the short paper thin layers frame your flushed face in such a celestial way. If he were to lean over, it’d be a different kind of book.

The one in the clasp of his hand isn’t a tale as old as time.

It’s one of your favorites. An existential story that ridicules the traditional. A transfusion of liveness to a certain forgotten room of your heart. The unlit one while the others brim with sunlight, with the golden sepia projection of the contents of the fairytales you love so much made into stop motion. A coloring book of some sort, hues fitting into the lines by your helping hand—the attention of your eyes. 

Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka. The book that sweeps away all those cobwebs in that chamber. Makes it less lonely.

It’s all you had talked about on your dates when you and Namjoon first started dating, having been reading it at the time. You had confided in him that the writer was the only person who understood you without ever learning your name, without familiarizing himself with the subtleties of your calamitous life.

No one has ever shared something so vulnerable with him, especially not on the first date. Not that he’d gone on many, but the few that fell into his grasp were hell to get through. Insufferable, to say the least. Absolutely superficial.

He went home in the rain thinking of you. Not for boyish reasons. But for reasons of literary character, of melancholy nature that squeezed his long-unexpressed heart in perpetuating intervals too consistent for his liking. Filled it with a nectar bubbling with a newly blooming love for books, with a sudden longing to be found within the words. His body decided for him that it was yours. Yours to teach again how to read between the lines.

The scene breaks out of the margins on the page.

“Is the water warm enough?”

The idea constructed by his own geniality, it’s by his will that you’re basking in your bare femininity before his eyes. Idleness lingered in the living room between the pair of you, the flimsy curtain by your balcony lifting and falling in a little dance as the cold air perfused the place with the drowsiness of winter. Pulling his eyes away from the TV to sink a soft kiss into your hair, Namjoon muttered into your ear: “How about I draw you a bath and read to you for a little bit?”

You said nothing. The click of your phone turning off and your hasty movements to untangle yourself from the warmth of his limbs answered him for you. Leaving your clothes as a trail for him to follow, you gave him a glimpse of your ass, arched and pointed in the draft before you ran away. Before he scolded you with his index finger like a father, raising to his feet to close the balcony door.

In two seconds he joined you in the bathroom. Leaned against the doorframe as you circled a pink roll-on lip oil you’ve been obsessed with lately around the perimeters of your lips. The one that makes them look bigger, juicier. That makes them more fun to kiss and toy with. The one that leaves his length sticky once playtime is over. You seem to cast aside little trinkets of yourself for him to collect everywhere you go.

Tits pushed towards each other while you slightly bent over the vanity sink, tapping the excess into the fullness of your mouth, Namjoon palmed himself. The tiredness from work earlier weakened his self-control to the point of unrestrained indulgence. And the plumpness of your ass just encouraged it.

You fluffed your hair and Namjoon ran the bath. Disappeared into the kitchen for a moment to retrieve the purple bath bomb from the plastic bag on the counter, one that he got from the convenience store for you. Dragon fruit and hibiscus. Thought of the twinkle that would sparkle beneath your lashes upon seeing it. Wasn’t disappointed when you exceeded his expectations.

Having seen it in the mirror, almost microscopic and round in his big palm, you turned on your heel and burst into giddiness as he took off the plastic packaging with his teeth. You pouted in gratefulness when he showed it to you. 

“You planned this, didn’t you?”

You hugged him, locking your hands behind the nape of his neck. Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t, and he told you so. A bit hoarsely, though.

Namjoon struggled not to moan. Groaned a little when he felt the curvature of your belly against his hardness and the pointed nubs of your tits beneath his pecs. Managed to conceal it, thankfully, by clearing his throat and by allowing an authentic grin to bloom on his dimpled face at your joy. Thanked the heavens for all the bath bombs in the world.

He placed it in your much smaller palm for you to plop it into the increasing water. Watched your eyes widen at the gilded glitter spreading around. Spurred you to get in. Held your hand as you lifted one limb, then the other. Knelt by you as you engulfed yourself in the violet tinge, your hair swirling around you, silky and ethereal, coming to a stop at the top of your head to fix a splendid crown for such a princess like yourself.

Namjoon turned off the tap while you rested your back against the curved wall of the tub. You swooshed your hands around, gathering the glitter into the fine lines of your palms. Looked up at him in elation, the twinkle doing its thing in the glossiness of your eyes, and smiled. Namjoon smiled back at you. His hand reached out to your chest in a fervent need to touch you. The glitter adorned your chest with its perfect speckles and they resurfaced when you arched your back in response. Clung to his palm in the middle of your tits, held on tighter as he took a detour to your chin by brushing across your sensitive nipple to hear your little mewls because if he made a sound, then you must, too. Because if he was horny, he must get you on the same page as well. Fairness is very important to Namjoon.

He squeezed your breast hard. Pinched your nipple between his thumb and the knuckle of his index finger in broken intervals, similar to little dashed lines of Morse code. You imagined he was telling you something through that secret language as you closed your eyes during an intense wave of pleasure coursing down your body, and perhaps he truly did because he pulled your legs apart harshly when you pressed them together. Punished you by lightly slapping your tit—the same one he abused with those firm touches—the force splashing you in the face with violet pearls. All as if you disobeyed the command he transmitted wordlessly.

The command possibly being: Only I will give you the release you need when I decide it’s time.

You bit your bottom lip to suppress the neediness erupting in you. Namjoon wrapped his hand around your throat and you dragged his rolled sleeve further up his arm, so it wouldn’t have gotten soaked in the water. He smeared your lip oil just because he wanted—just because he could, scattering the rosy tint around your mouth messily. He took advantage of the aftermath of his punishment and collected those tender beads, now translucent upon your carmine skin. Not with the thumb as you expected him to, but using the pillows of his lips, he kissed the round bulb on your cheek. It melted on the puffy surface when he withdrew. He looked you in the eye for a mere beat of time before he lowered to your other cheek to collect another trinket. None of the corners of your mouth were overlooked, not even the button of your nose. He peppered those kisses to erase the harshness of his selfishness, supporting your lifted chin with his long thumb beneath it, still sticky from the consistency of the lip oil, apologizing, smoothing down his sternness until you giggled.

Once he cleaned you, Namjoon returned the digit to your smudged mouth, delicious in his sight due to the essence of sloppiness that gets his length even harder in his pants. He presses the pad against it, already craving your tongue. You kissed it, a thank you for his softness, before you granted him the access. Tongue toying with the tip, you said hello in the mother language of the love stored in your bodies for each other. Wrapped both of your hands around his wrist. Didn’t break eye contact. Smiled, teeth showing happily, when he bit his lip, but soon got distracted by a small movement on his groin area out of your view.

You peeled your back off of the tub to curiously take a peek, but Namjoon pushed you back to your place. All while his thumb remained sucked by your mouth. You frowned at him, dismayed by his recurring roughness that you weren’t used to.

Namjoon tapped your cheek twice with his fingers to let you know it was enough and rose to his feet.

“Joon, what’s going on? Why are you so rough with me?” you asked, voice tender, the question shooting arrows into the wideness of his back.

Stopping in the doorway, he hung his head, fingers coming to intertwine with the short hair above his neck. “I’m sorry, baby. Let me get the book.”

A moment later, he returned with the stellar possession in one hand and a wooden chair in the other. He slumped against it, fingers finding the first chapter unwittingly.

You swam forward as if to the shore, propping your elbows on the rim to be closer to him.

“Is the water warm enough?”

You nod, your teeth picking at the excess skin on your lips. Namjoon notices and, as if registering the reason why you put on the lip oil in the first place, he leans towards you and rubs away the smudginess he caused. As if the walk into your dining room sobered him enough from the dark wine of his lust that he now regretted his actions.

“You really scared me when you were rough,” you said calmly, unafraid to uncover your feelings, knowing you’ll be caught now that you’ve jumped head-first into the hungry sea of honesty.

He apologizes again. Repeats it in the aphonic form of a deep chaste kiss.

“Won’t do it again,” he promises. “Unless you ask me to.”

Your lips form a smile, but it quivers into a straight line just as quickly as it appeared. The yet unknown cause behind his untypical behavior troubles you.

“Did something happen today at work?”

Namjoon sighs. “No, I’m just tired.”

“Just tired or tired of your job?” you try, tilting your head to the side, remembering this isn’t the first time quiet broodiness clutched his figure when the clock struck five.

“Both.” He kneads the heel of his palm against his eye. 

Not expecting his honesty, your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. It propels you to investigate further. Gives you the green light. Namjoon usually keeps to himself when it comes to work-related storms, holding respect that reaches the bottom of his heart for those above him and for his peers as well.

“Did someone make you upset?” you ask, paving your way in this inquiry to the realm of understanding so you can help him. At least in a small way.

He drops his hand, gazes up the ceiling to stare at a fixed point. Perhaps he’s looking for words, perhaps he’s avoiding the question altogether. The regret of your prying swallows you. You’re afraid you’ve overstepped a boundary. 

You reach out your arm, wrapping wet fingers around his wrist on his lap. The gesture says, ‘you don’t have to tell me but I’m here,’ and you squeeze the limb to emphasize that. As if he heard you, he looks down at you. His eyes that are usually narrowed into slits now round in tenderness. The swallowing lets go, the lump that threatened to obstruct your throat disappears.

“It’s Friday, Joonie, and you can forget about your job for a little while. It’ll get better,” you say, caressing his soft skin.

To your another surprise, Namjoon nods. Slips his fingers into the hollowness between yours, squeezing back, saying, ‘I hear you.’ Your heart jumps with gladness that you haven’t made a mistake, that instead your reassurement made a difference.

To lighten up the atmosphere, you begin to joke around.

“Should I beat them up?” You raise your brow in mischief, a goofy smile coating your face in lightheartedness.

A grin cracks on his face. “Don’t get your hands dirty for me, baby.”

You scoff, half-seriously and half-unseriously shaking your head at his eagerness to please but never letting himself be pleased. “But I want to. I’ll do it for you.”

Namjoon shakes his head as well. Leans over to you. Cradles your head in his hands and kisses you. Picks the hair plastered on your face and puts it away. You forget all of your jokes for a moment, breathless. Your neediness nudges you in your sensitive parts, reminding you of its lingering presence. 

“Come on, Joonie,” you coo, prolonging the vowels, the best you could come up with considering his allure, “I’ll fight them,” you start to construct your imaginary plan, the dimples adorning his face making it a bit harder for you to get the words out, “then, they’ll be scared of me and they won’t bother you again. Because if they do, I’ll smash their fucking teeth in. And then… then, you’ll get your peace for good. Easy.”

Namjoon listens with his features bathed in enamoredness, seemingly lost in a deep thought. A twinkle, a twin to yours, glistens in his eyes. Dimples out provoking you, he softly smiles at you. Coyly. He’s unaccustomed to being the one fought for. He’s always been the one who fights. The one who settles, resolves, makes things right. He’s never been the person these things are done for by another person. It makes his heart pulsate in a strange new rhythm. 

He stretches out his hands and runs his fingers through your hair. Begins to plait an intricate braid down your back, keeping you caged in the confines of his arms. Safe. Protected. His warrior princess.

“There’s something else you can do for me,” he mumbles, finished with your braid. Now your hair is away from your face, just like he needs it for what he’s about to do.

“Oh?” You raise an eyebrow in question, your smirk growing on the side of your face. “Like what?”

“I’m so hard for you, baby,” he whispers into your ear, shoulders hunched, lips tracing the edge of your earlobe. A secret just between the two of you. “My body’s confused. I need a release.”

Even though you saw it coming, even though you saw it a hundred times before, you can’t help but gasp at his desperation, bare and open before you. It’s a new experience each time. Thrilling and titillating, the vividness and ferocity of his sexuality. It causes a flock of playful butterflies to buzz you with electricity in your tummy and a shiver to run down your spine. You feel your own neediness making itself known again and you squeeze your thighs together. 

This is the Namjoon you know. Strong in his softness. Mellow. Intense. The Namjoon who showed you plain roughness was a stranger to you, one you could take the time to get to know, because now you understand that the incentive to act like he did was his frustration from work. You can’t really blame the natural inclination of his body—his body that is yours to love in all shapes or forms.

You perceive he needs to let out some steam—he said so himself. Proud of him for voicing it out, a decision to be his helper already makes a way to your heart. You no longer feel slivers of consternation slithering in your veins. Knowing the cause, knowing it’s still your Namjoon helps you submit to the call of his needs. If a dab of roughness is what entails the sand-speckled footpath to the seaside of his well-being, you’ll take it. Welcome it, even. Within the realm of your established boundaries, that is. 

“Can I see?”

The book falls to the floor with a thud. Namjoon stands up. 

Ever so eager. Responding to his body language out of pure instinct, you hum and lift yourself to your knees. The outline of his engorged length, tight in his pants, greets you and you will your brain not to tell your fingers to rub your swollen clit. To busy your hands, you grip the rim until white brushes along your knuckles.

Emerging from the water, it left you smothered in a luster of wet silkiness. Namjoon’s eyes rake over your bare femininity. Heavenly, pure, seraphic. Groans a little loud. Doesn’t know whether to touch you first or his painfully hard and heavy member. You move your body to the side wall of the tub and he follows you, hand opting for his girth to relieve himself a little bit. 

You sit prettily on your folded legs and lean over, pulling his wrist away. You plant a dewy kiss to the middle of his clothed length and look up at him, just at the right time to catch him whimpering. Your clit pulses again and you feel like crying, needing release as much as he does. He doesn’t make it easy for you, making sounds like that.

“What does my baby girl need me to do?” you ask, stroking his member while stifling your giggles at the title that fits him so well. 

“Baby girl?” He frowns down at you. 

It’s usually what he calls you, hence why his confusion. And you call him by an entirely different title, too.

A giggle does escape your mouth after all. You squeeze at his tip, drawing those delicious whimpers out of him again.

“Only needy little baby girls make sounds like that. You are needy, aren’t you?” You lick that sensitive part, palming his balls. 

Namjoon whines. 

The shift of dynamics, the change of titles ever so dizzying to the mind. He doesn’t even have the strength to correct you. 

He grips the back of your head and moves you away from his cock. Then the realization he’s being rough again wafts over him and he softens his hold, fallen stray hairs coming to rest at your temples. Namjoon tucks them behind your ear. Taps you on the cheek once.

“Get to sucking off your baby girl,” he rasps. 

You smile. Find it immensely attractive that he’s embracing the pet name while still being dominant. A masculinity in its true form.

“You can be rough with me if you want to,” you say, wanting to make that clear. “I think I can handle it.”

Namjoon traces the shell of your ear with his thumb, pondering.

“Just don’t hit me, okay?” 

He says your name sternly, as if you offended him. “I would never deliberately hurt you. How can you think that?” 

“No, I meant—” You lick your lips. “Don’t slap my boobs or anything. You can spank me, I like that. But don’t be as rough with me as you were. Can we take it slow? Is that okay?”

He stares at you for a moment.  

“Do you trust me?”

You nod, turning your head to press a kiss into his palm. “Yes, I trust you.”

“I’ll teach you, then. We’ll take it slow,” he says, fingers stroking the side of your cheek, where a small amount of fluff creates a path for him to lay down his silent love on. “It was a mistake on my part for not preparing you for it, and for that I’m sorry. But I’ll teach you. Show you how good it is.” He pauses. “Until you beg me for it.”

Your throat dries up. The pulsing in your cunt unbearable. 

“Fuck, Namjoon. Save the talk or I’ll come on the spot.” 

“The talk is important,” he reprimands you. “Whether you come or not without my permission is your problem.” 

“Shit,” you whimper, gripping his hand on your cheek. You tighten your hold as if to brattily change his mind on having this kind of control over your orgasm because you need to come as soon as possible. And not just once. You’re sure your dewiness is leaking into the water. 

“No bad words or I’ll fuck your filthy mouth.” 

You gasp. So unused to this side of him. But it turns you on, now that you feel safe. Turns you unstable.

“Say you’re sorry.”

You’re tumbling out the words before he’s even finished with his sentence. “I’m so sorry.”

He beams at your immediate submission, purring at the quintessence of your compliance. Wants more. “Who are you apologizing to?” 

You pause. His usual title almost slips off of your tongue. But since this is new and you’re both experiencing a new dynamic that causes you to feel so playful, that guides you ever so gently and carefully into the kingdom of subspace, you opt for the pet name that suits him well. “To my baby girl,” you say, laughing softly. “I’m so sorry, baby girl.” 

He laughs as well, the sound a deep rumble in his chest. You’re giddy that you’re allowed to be wild, your inner child healing and quivering within you. You overflow with the desire to kiss him.

“What for?”

He wants you to say the full sentence. You take a deep breath. 

“Baby girl, I’m so sorry for having a filthy mouth and saying bad words.”

“Hm, do you regret it?” 

You almost curse again. “Yes, I do. I’m sorry for being bad.”

“Good. Get to work, then,” he says. “Make that mouth useful.”

Fuck.

“Kiss me first, please. Make it better,” you beg, fluttering your eyelashes at him. 

Namjoon moans and you bite your lip. Bends and sucks it between his, deepening the kiss as he opens your jaw and slips his tongue inside. Massages the muscle against yours. Makes those sounds again. Palms his cock. Withdraws with a pop. 

You mewl in satisfaction. That kiss alone ruined you. 

“Good girls get kisses.” Hand under your chin, he squishes your cheeks. “You’ve been exceptionally good. I’m gonna destroy you.” 

He kisses you again with the same intensity but briefly, inhaling your skin. No tongue this time. 

Cheeks awash with rosiness, you hastily unbuckle his belt. Not to cut time and get to his promise faster—on the contrary, you’re dying to pleasure him. He doesn’t help you like he normally does; he merely watches you as you pull down the cotton material of his slacks along with his boxers down his muscular thighs. Only when you wrap your lips around his cock from the side does he throw his head back. Thrusts his hips. 

He’s rock hard. The weight of him makes you absolutely fucked out.

Namjoon likes you there so he keeps you still—there in the middle of his girth. You moan, producing as much saliva as you can to gratify him while he uses your mouth, alternating between keeping those pillows firm and soft. When he gets you to his tip, he expects you to swallow him, but you merely move your head from side to side rapidly, flicking your tongue. Namjoon groans lowly, a string of curse words spilling from his throat. His precum drops onto your chin and you suck in a breath, horny beyond your mind.

You swipe your index finger to collect it. Check if he’s watching before you plunge the digit into your mouth. Roll your eyes back as the tanginess overwhelms your senses. Namjoon hisses. Grabs your braid as if it were a ponytail. Kisses you, aching to be one with you. You feel the vibrations of his fervid mania in unity with him like this and it echoes down your body once he pulls away. 

“Take it in your mouth.” 

Namjoon holds it at the base for you and you find the long vein that you favor so much. Pepper kisses along the length of it, feeling it throb in tandem with your clit. Straightening your spine, you bite your lip. Give him an utter look of adoration before you swipe your tongue along the slit. Humming in delight, you slip him into your mouth. Your cheeks hollow and you begin to bob your head, fingers following your movement, bumping into his fist. Tears pool in your eyes when you dare to inch closer to his hand and even though you gag, you try your hardest to keep him nice and tucked in your warm throat. You sputter and cough, swallowing around him, because you deem he deserves it, knowing how much he loves it when your flesh contracts around him like that, and Namjoon groans deeply. It fills you with a dose of satisfaction almost akin to an orgasm, the lack of oxygen in your brain heightening the experience so much that your head spins. 

“Such a good girl,” he whispers. “Breathe, baby.”

He slips out of your mouth. Pats you on your head before he sinks his fingers into your hair, gripping at the roots. Ascertains you pay attention to him. 

“Don’t do that again,” he says, softly. “You need to breathe. Take a deep breath with me.”

You’re still on your knees and he’s merely looking down at you. You fold your hands on your lap. Your mind is so empty that you’re not sure how you feel right now, having been entirely focused on his pleasure. 

Namjoon inhales deeply with his nose and you do the same.

Inhale, exhale. 

Fondly, he caresses you on your cheek.

“I just wanted to make you feel good,” you explain yourself, thinking that you should.

“I know, baby, and you did. It’s okay, I’m not mad at you.” He smiles at you. “You hear me? I’m not mad at you.”

You nod your head yes. Pout. 

“You feeling okay? Take a deep breath for me again.” 

You do as he says, your senses returning to you like a warm spring wind. 

“Better now?”

You nod again.

“Words.”

You wet your lips with your tongue. “Yes, I feel better now.”

“Good. Do you still wanna continue?”

“Yes, Namjoon. I wanna make you come.” 

Almost like you flipped a switch, his eyes darken. 

“Hands behind your back,” he rasps. 

You oblige, crisscrossing your wrists below the dimples on your lower back.

“‘Atta girl. Back to work, come on.” 

It’s much harder to do so without your hands, especially in the position you’re in. You hesitate.

“I don’t know if I can,” you admit. 

He tuts in pity. “Should I use you then?”

You roll your eyes back, the idea intoxicating your body. You feel woozy. 

“Yes, please.” 

“Focus on your breathing, okay?” 

“Yes, Namjoon.”

Humming, Namjoon grabs your hair gently and sinks your mouth down on his cock, moves you up and down slowly. You focus on not just sucking in your cheeks but also on breathing through your nose like he told you, although you can’t help but moan around him. It turns you on how he manhandles you to his liking so delicately. You swirl your tongue around his tip once he wants you there and you let out a series of whines and whimpers. He keeps you there for a little longer, moaning after you, the sounds creating a paradisiacal symphony. You twist your head in half circles as you continue sucking him, slobbering all over him, using your tongue to flick beneath the mushroom. 

“So good, baby. Yes, fuck.” Namjoon squeezes his eyes shut. “You’re gonna make me come.” 

You pull away, but a string of saliva still connects you to him. 

He blinks at you. “You want a spanking?” 

You run the tip of your tongue along the top of your lip, giving him the eyes. Cock your eyebrow at him. Namjoon draws a sharp breath in. 

He leans over. One hand tugs at your braid firmly to arch your back over the edge of the tub. The other smacks you sharply on your ass cheek, smoothing over the sting. You moan, nipples rubbing over the cold surface, curse words dying on your tongue. Namjoon grips the flesh, spanks you again. Skims his fingers over your exposed heat. Repeats it on the other cheek, twice in a row. You wiggle your hips, needing to feel more, needing him to touch you right there between your legs. You cry out into his ear.

Letting go of your braid, Namjoon kisses you beneath your jaw. Slides his tongue along the sensitive spot, sucking it between his lips. A secret message that he hears you, that he’ll fuck your needy cunt soon.

“Think you’ll be a good girl for now?” 

Furrowing your eyebrows, you nod a few times. Not a single rational thought passes through your brain. 

Namjoon straightens. Pulls down his foreskin for you. “Spit on it.” 

You watch as your liquid love trickles down and lands on his tip. He hums and surprises you by wrapping your hands around his girth, spreading down the lubrication with you. You feel the ridges and the thick vein in a new, vehement way and even though you’re not the one pleasured, you moan. The simple up and down movement grows in rapidness that your body follows, emulating the effort, making it seem like you’re bouncing on a dick. Your ass splashes the water around, creating tender waves full of love, inherited from your still leaking dewiness. 

His hands are so warm enclasped around yours, pressed tight. Not once unclenching.

You start blabbering. 

“You’re so big. I can’t even wrap my hand around you.” You make sure to look him in the eyes as you say it. “So big in my mouth, too. Could barely fit you.” 

Your words set those twilit embers in his eyes on fire. His breathing quickens. He’s close again and you’re stunned, once more, by the vividness of his sexuality. Your hands go limp in his grasp.

“Nuh-uh, keep up the pace,” he husks. “Thought I was your little baby girl?” 

You shake your head, willing your hands to gain strength again, but it has no source to draw from. “Not anymore.”

Namjoon chuckles, darkly. Notices your movements fluctuating, arms shaking. “Tired?”

You nod and he unclasps his hands. You twist your wrists in circles to alleviate them from a cramp. 

Then, you get an idea.

Sitting back on your heels, you arch your back. Tip your chin down and spit on your chest, the essence flowing down the pathway between your breasts. You do it again, though this time you spread it on your skin. 

“Fuck, baby,” Namjoon mumbles. Unbuttons his shirt. You squeeze your nipples with both hands as your eyes flick to his, then down to his exposed chest. “How are you gonna address me, huh? What’s my name?”

He forcefully tugs the fabric off of his arms, tossing it on the floor. His body—with its vulgar beauty, broadness and definition—takes your breath away. You don’t let it show, or perhaps you pretend that you don’t because you allow your hand to travel down your stomach. Namjoon imitates you, running his fingers down the chiseled muscles that make you drool. He stops at the hair adorning his pelvis. You don’t.

You rub circles on your clit instead.

“Daddy,” you cry out in pleasure, announcing his title—his rightful, most fitting title. Face contorting at the brisk, blooming flashes of sensuality rising up your form.

His body tenses. It’s like he’s stopping himself from reaching for you, pulling you out of the bathtub and spanking you until your bottom resembles the water. Or tugging at his length until he paints you white with his cum. 

You make it easy for him. 

Lifting your body, you step over the edge of the bathtub. Kneel at his feet on the fluffy black mat. Far enough for him to see purple liquid pearls make their way down to your cunt. Far enough for him to see how you resume those circles on your bundle of nerves, fingers reaching to your hole for lubrication. You roll your hips into your hand, arm propped behind you.

“What’s this show?” Namjoon rasps, his cock twitching. “I don’t remember giving you permission to touch yourself. You wanna end up with zero orgasms?”

You pause. 

“That’s what I thought,” he says. “I believe you have unfinished work to do.” 

You smile mischievously. “You want it bad, don’t you?” 

Namjoon nods. Holds out his hand. “Come to Daddy.”

Exuberantly, you leap into his arms. Namjoon throws you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing and walks into your shared bedroom. Sets you down on your bed, spreading your legs, and he crouches between them, reaching into his bedside table for the tool that he wants. 

The aroma of strawberries lovingly boops you on the nose. Namjoon squirts a good amount of lubrication on your chest, paying special attention to the pathway in the middle of your breasts. He massages it in, incorporates your sensitive nipples in the preparation, coaxing whimper after whimper out of you by squeezing them and rolling them between his long fingers.

“I’m gonna make a mess,” you say, grinding your hips against nothing.

Namjoon clicks his tongue. “Already?” 

Your dewiness oozes out of you onto the bedding. To prove your point, you lean back on your elbows and lift your knees, revealing your dripping hole and the shine of your soaked folds. Namjoon stares at your cunt but doesn’t touch, doesn’t blink. He bites his lip. Flicks his eyes to yours. 

He kisses the middle of your tummy. Moves over to your heat. Licks a tiny stripe on your clit.

You cry out.

“Namjoon!”

Hands on either side of your waist, crawling up to you, he growls. “Good girls are patient, aren’t they?” 

He doesn’t wait for your response. 

“They take what is given to them and they finish what they started,” he continues. “Don’t they?”

You nod.

“And you are a good girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I’m a good girl.” 

“Then thank your Daddy for what he gave you.” 

Your walls squeeze around nothing when you hear him utter his title. It refreshes your body with energy. 

“Thank you, Daddy.” You smile. 

Namjoon kisses you, rewarding you.

“Sit up.”

Changing the layout, it’s Namjoon who reclines halfway on the bed while you sit perched on your knees between his legs, cock in your face. He spurts the lube on his length and jerks himself off, his skin shining in the abrupt spillage of burnt-orange sunlight from the window. Watches your eyes round in astonishment similarly to the way they did earlier when you had gazed upon the glitter swarming around you. 

He nods at you, giving you the green light, and you sheathe his girth into the tightness of your squished tits. You may start a face pace from the get go, fucking him into oblivion, but all Namjoon sees is the whites of your eyes, the glimmer, the pure enjoyment of what you’re doing while the rest of you is immersed in subdued late afternoon shadows. Sweat glistens on the planes of his face, dribbling down to the strained column of his neck.

It’s intense. So intense that he can’t vocally react. 

Precum appears once more on his mushroom, displaying his arousal, and you slurp it up, the braid coming undone—your hair falling around you like a curtain. 

It’s brutal. It’s wet. 

Namjoon gathers your hair to the side in a makeshift ponytail and leans over to be closer to you. Needs you like this. Feels his relief catching up to him the more effort you put in, the more you stick out your tongue to flick at that sensitive part of him whenever you can. 

“Want your come. So bad. Want it all over me,” you whisper, and that’s it for him. 

“Say please,” he murmurs, and it’s barely a sound, but you hear him. 

“Please, Daddy, come for me.” 

Pulling your hands away, Namjoon takes charge. Fucks your tits in frenzy, your hair, now half dry, tickling your skin. With his thumbs, he stimulates your nipples to coax those little sounds of yours and—

“Play with your pussy,” he commands. “But don’t come. Tease yourself like you teased Daddy.”

The relief on your face inches him closer to his. He hears the wetness as you dip a finger in, your walls sucking it in. He hears your breath get stuck in your throat. The slow crescendo of your moans. Suddenly, he hears himself too. 

Whiny, desperate, so unlike himself.

It’s a fortress of safety, his forehead on top of yours. His nose bumping against yours. Open mouth ghosting over the sounds of your well-deserved pleasure. It’s a safe place for him to come in.  

And he does. 

Ropes upon ropes of come color you ivory white, color you clean. The reversal of a coloring book—changing the lines, changing the scheme, changing your life. 

You milk him dry, your pussy long forgotten. Milk him until he pushes you away, chest heaving, unable to catch his breath. You just watch him, his seed hot on your chest. Glittery. And not just there. On your neck, on your chin, in the wavy strands of your hair. 

You’re in awe of him. You can see the pressure leaving him like a ghost slinking out of the window. 

Namjoon takes off his glasses. With two fingers, he collects as much of his essence as he can and plunges them into your mouth. The other hand rests on the crook of your neck, thumb protectively over your throat. “Swallow.”

Not for long. Namjoon throws you on the bed. Doesn’t waste time.

He laps up your pussy, clit to hole, sucking your labia into his mouth. He does it again, but this time he travels a bit further. Clit, hole, ass. Tongue flat. Your screams are muffled by the rumpled bedsheet you grip.

Going back to your leaking hole, he circles the flesh before he dips the tongue in. Wraps his arms around your ass to control your squirming, feeling the dip of your spine as the sunlight kisses it. Dust particles spiral in the air—Namjoon sees it. The dark grey curtain keeping half of the world shrouded in dimness while the other illuminated, a picture cut in a heart shape due to the deliciousness of your ass. 

Fuck, Namjoon longs to play with it again. 

He spits on it, rubbing the saliva around it before he slides his tongue back into your wet hole. Says hello to it—long time no see—teases it, before he dips his thumb in. You arch your back even more, welcoming the intrusion, and Namjoon kisses your pussy lips as a thank you. He quivers with the craving to fuck you right there in your ass, but knows better than to do it. You’re not ready for it. 

Spreading you more open, while keeping his thumb there in that sweet place, he begins to focus on your poor little clit. Swirls his tongue around it firmly, sucking it until your back trembles—goes up and down like a seesaw. The kisses he leaves there are obscene, loud, full of thankfulness that he gets to play with you. Full of love for you that he burns bright with—that propels him to flick his tongue harder. And full of joy that his stress is gone. Joy that you’ve been the helper unscrewing the steel body of heaviness off of his because, as of now, his bones feel lighter.

“You’re so good for me.” He smacks his lips against your cunt. “Fucking Daddy like that when he needed you.” 

Vigorously, he rubs his face against you, shaking his head from side to side. You stretch your fingers behind you and helplessly grip the back of your thighs. Namjoon catches one of your hands, holds it with his free four fingers, sucking your clit. 

“Thank you, baby,” he whispers, withdrawing to pay attention to your other hole, missing it. Abuses it once he spits on it, eating it, dipping his tongue in with ease since he stretched you. Fucks you there in the only way he can. 

“Wanna come?” he asks and as he waits for your answer, he goes lower to drink your freshness, not letting a drop go to waste. 

You’ve lost your voice screaming. “Yes, Daddy, please. I can’t hold it in anymore. Please, let me come,” you croak. 

Namjoon makes a sound of appreciation, proud of you for holding out for so long without saying anything.

“I think you can,” he says. Stuffs a finger into your dripping hole and lets you adjust for a moment. Adds another. “I think you can hold it while I count to ten.” 

His digits pump into you slowly. Kneeling by your side, he turns your head so you can see him, twisting your body into the position he wants. The curve of your back is so beautiful in his sight that he can’t help but run his free hand over the route that your spine has become. The route he wants to plant kisses on like flowers of various colors, adding to the coloring book, erasing the old. 

And he does. Begins at the nape of your neck. Picks up the speed.

“One.” 

You cry out. First before your tears rush out, pooling in your waterline. You clench your whole body in naive hope it would stall the orgasm, but it quickens it, squeezing his fingers in, so you relax your muscles. 

“Two.” 

A kiss to the first round protrusion of your spine. Shifting your weight to your shoulder, you take his cock into your hand. 

“Three.”

The middle of your shoulder blades. You hear your wetness oozing out of you, the relief prowling closer. You whine and Namjoon understands.

“Hold it or I’ll stop,” he whispers. “I can feel your pussy squeezing around my fingers. Relax.” 

You match your pace with his. Namjoon begins to pant. You feel his hot, heavy breath beneath your shoulder blades. 

“Six.” 

Ass shaking from the force, he jackhammers into you. Pulls out for a moment to spank you, a merciful gesture, before he’s back in. Leaves a wet fingerprint on your skin.

“Eight.”

The last protrusion of your spine. You silence your moans by pressing your hand against your mouth because they bring you closer to your orgasm, however Namjoon yanks your arm away. 

“Make those pretty sounds for me, come on,” he huffs, kissing both of those dimples on your back. “Ten. Come. Come for Daddy. Come all over his hand.”

And you do.

It’s a paradise, the heat closing in on you. The loss of hearing, the muted ringing, resembling the flap of a bird’s wing. The loss of surroundings as you’re momentarily transported somewhere entirely else. A gilded illustration, perhaps a lively projection. Something, somewhere, where all is good. The orgasm rips through you and the repetitive echo of his name leaving your mouth is what brings you back. Away from the storybook into a brand new coloring book.

Namjoon strokes your hair. 

He holds you in his arms, but something sticks you uncomfortably together. You peel yourself off of him and cringe. Strings upon strings of his come, gleaming with speckles of glitter, do not want you to leave. You sit on his thighs, resting your palms on his chest. 

He kisses you. “Are you okay?”

You nod with droopy eyelids. 

He carries you into the shower and makes a way for all colors of the rainbow to perfuse your body. To create a new storyline for the day, for the week, for the month. Reds and pinks show their faces first in the steam, and even though Namjoon is glad to see them, he looks forward to meeting the rest. To learning their objectives so he can fulfill them. 

Grabbing the yellow book on the way back to the bedroom, Namjoon makes himself comfortable beside you. Is careful not to touch your face out of habit because you have a face mask on; careful not to bump into you either because you have a plate of mozzarella and sliced tomatoes on your lap. He kisses your hair, though. Doesn’t have the strength to fight internally—grabs your jawline and ever so slowly and heedfully, he kisses you, fingers finding the first chapter unwittingly. 

“When Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from troubled dreams, he found himself changed into a monstrous cockroach in his bed.” 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

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#btscreatorscorner #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #namjoon x oc #namjoon imagine #bts smut #bts imagine #bts scenarios #bts fic #kpop smut #namjoon scenarios #bangtanwritershq #btswritersclub #btswriterscollective #btswritingcafe #bangtanwriters net #knj x reader #knj smut #knj

[avidfics]

College!ellie headcanons

summary: your brother throws a college party without your knowledge at your apartment; ellie, a few years younger; sees you and is immediately pent up and tries to get into your good graces

a/n: first time writing for ellie but wanted to give it a try

warnings: uptight older reader, ellie is a kiss-up just to get some action; no action actually happens; suggestive; teasing; poor ellie just wants action

-college!ellie wanted you the first time she saw you at your younger brother’s college party at your apartment. He often complained about how his place was too far away from campus so sometimes he’d crash at your place. Tonight, he’d taken it a step too far and invited everyone he knew for an impromptu hang out at your apartment.

-college!ellie had heard your brother complain about his older sister, who he obviously adored, and said you were a total nightmare. ellie had her share of drama from the countless girls she slept with on campus and didn’t need to experience another. 

-college!ellie was taken back when you stormed into your apartment, hunting for your brother. Her eyes raked you over you from head to toe taking in your lounge attire of form-fitting leggings that hugged your thighs and ass so deliciously she almost let out an audible “fuck” slip from her mouth. It took actual strength to not openly stare at your breasts that were only covered in a sports bra and instead tear her eyes away to look at your face. The way you marched over to your brother in the dimly lit kitchen, completely obvious to ellie who leaned against the counter top, and took charge of the situation with laser focus and a sharp tongue. It was turning her the fuck on and making her uncomfortably wet.

-college!ellie steps out of the shadows, sick of you not noticing her, a slow smile glides across her mouth as she makes it super apparent that she’s checking you out. 

-college!ellie maneuvers herself to stand in front of your brother to introduce herself. Which causes your rant to stumble a bit as you take in the lanky, girl in gray sweats and black jean jacket with sleeves bunched up corded arms. Her eyes were slightly glazed but her apparent high didn’t hinder her from tracking every tiny detail of your annoyed, pretty, perfect face. 

-college!ellie only functioning brain cell is short-circuiting as she tries to figure out how to get her best friend’s older sister into an empty bed to fuck the irritation out of you in the shortest amount of time. She does all her usual moves that usually get her laid. Casual touches along your arm, crowding into your personal space, throwing hella compliments your way but all her moves left you unfazed, eyebrow raised, and more snappy than when she began. Fuck you were cute.

-college!ellie decides to switch tactics. She turns the tables on your brother, admonishing him for throwing a party without your permission. Your brother's mouth gaps at the complete switch-up of his best friend. But ellie doesn’t just stop there. With gentle, slightly calloused, hands she guides you out the kitchen by the elbow. “Come on, princess. Let’s get these fuckers out of your place.” 

-All the pent up anger depletes from your body as ellie takes charge throwing her fellow classmates out of your place with a swiftness that leaves you oddly pleased. “Haven’t you idiots heard of coasters? Wipe that shit up and if there’s a stain I swear to god I’ll fuck you up.”

-college!ellie held your body close to hers as you both did a sweep throughout the whole place, swearing it was so you didn’t get lost (in your own apartment smh), and kept finding a mundane reason to whisper trivial things into your ears. “Let’s check the john for any strays.” In a narrow hallway she’d possessively grip your hips from behind to “make sure you don't trip.” Or when a pushy group of guys head out to leave, you’d find yourself pushed up against your entry, looking into ellie’s eyes as she blocks you in, away from the crowd. Ducking her head into the base of your neck, “How do you smell so good.” she groaned while pressing her determined leg between your quivering, thinly clothed thighs.

-college!ellie knew you saw past her “responsible guest” act but a small part of you had given in at some point of the late night as she took charge and handled you even as you acted uptight and snippy. 

-college!ellie close the door on the last of the partygoers, including your brother. Out of your earshot she said to your brother. “Yo, you gonna congratulate me?” “Huh?” “We're gonna be in-laws pretty soon.” with a sly wink she shuts the door on his stunned face even as he curses her through the door.

-college!ellie settles down into your couch, clicking on the tv and taking a drag on her forgotten blunt. The door to the bathroom opens and you emerge in only a towel and a questioning look as to why the younger woman had the audacity to still be in your apartment. In response, ellie takes a lung pull of her blunt and manspreads her legs, getting even more comfortable. With a little chuckle you leave ellie on her own while you continue into your bedroom. 

-college!ellie hears your cell start to ring on the couch cushion. When a caller ID named “blind date” flashes across the screen ellie answers the phone without a second thought. Cutting the guy off midway through him asking for a second date. “Nah, dude you got the wrong number. Go ahead and lose it. Ain’t no single ladies live here.” ellie still planned on getting between your sweet thighs and decided she didn’t like the idea of sharing.

#ellie williams x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams #ellie the last of us #ellie williams headcanons #ellie williams hcs #ellie headcanons #ellie x y/n #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams fanfic

[baka-bakeneko]

Sets - Toji Fushiguro

Toji Fushiguro x AFAB reader

tags: NSFW, Minors DNI, bad dom Toji, workout routine, stamina training, hint to exhibitionism, taking orders, did i say you were done?, punishment, pussy slapping, multiple positions, multiple orgasms, hint to lick the bowl a/n: i'm sorry, i'm taking a break to see if i can write on my edge shit, but if i don't then don't look at me. also, this idea came from those videos of girls rolling off the leg press and a dude coming and picking them up and putting them back on the machine. also i'm sorry megumi, my baby, don't look at your whore father honey. synopsis: Toji thinks you should work on your stamina. wc: 2.67k

You were only here for Toji's sake. He'd asked - let's be honest Toji never asked - you to come along with him to the gym because your yoga routines were doing nothing for your stamina. While it was true that Toji went way longer than you ever did in a singular night, you didn't want him to mention such things in front of his son.

You'd rested a hand on Megumi's head, tousling his hair with a glance over to him. "You gonna be okay?"

Toji cut his eyes to the front door, grabbing his gym bag and stepping out of the kitchen. "Let's go!"

You bent and kissed Megumi's forehead. "Be good."

Now you were following Toji through the gym, arms crossed at this man. He stopped just before the free weights, dropping his bag to the side.

Toji raised a brow at you, your jacket covering your workout set. "Take it off."

You glanced down at it, then around to the seemingly empty gym, and unzipped it. You shrugged it off, feeling Toji's steely dark eyes pierce and rake over the skin you revealed.

Not that Toji was a jealous man, but he had a thing for marking territory. He looked aorund the gym, ignoring your general sweep before he deemed it worthy.

He snapped his fingers, pointed just before him. "Stretch."

You turned, assuming first position by crossing an arm over your chest and pulling it tight with your other. While you did so, Toji stood close behind you, eyeing your form and offering minor adjustments.

When he deemed your time up, he tapped your hip and you switched arms. Another tap, arms up above your head with a backwards arch.

Your head rested against Toji's plushy chest as your arms barely made it to the top of his head. He tapped again and you swung forward, dropping your torso down between your spread apart legs.

"That's the one," Toji hissed, dragging his hand from his hip to the small of your back.

He curved his fingers along your back, silently coaching you to match it. Your hands braced the floor, fingers interlaced as you dipped into your hips and arched slightly.

"Hold it there," he said, stepping an inch closer to you.

You could feel the heat of his crotch against you before, but now it was pressed between your hips. The fabric of your pants did nothing to dissuade Toji's heat, his length flaccid and prominent in his baggy sweats.

Shaking your head, you held your pose until it began to burn in your back. His hand pet tenderly along the small of your back as he nudged himself impossibly close between your open hips.

"Your pussy is throbbing," Toji stated casually, rubbing his cock against you. "I feel it already."

You stood up from the position and out of Toji's grasp. "Now is not the place. You wanted me to work out so...teach me a machine."

Toji smacked his teeth and dropped his hands to his hips. "Don't be so uptight. I'm teasing you."

You rolled your eyes at him, crossing your arms over your sports bra to hide the perk of your nipples. "Not here."

He looked around the gym and pointed to the treadmill. "Look, stamina. Go."

You puffed out an annoyed breath and walked over to the machine. Stepping up on the strip, you turned it on and started a brisk jog.

As you began jogging, Toji walked up to the front of the machine and upped the level. You began running, catching up to the bar and holding onto it.

Toji leaned over to you, scarred lips pressed to your ear. "Don't come back to me 'less you're dripping wet."

You shuddered, attempting to hold your resolve as he walked away. You leveled your breath, picking up your feet and running to Toji's speed set.

You stayed locked on the passage of time, five minutes then ten as your feet became heavier with each stride. Sweat was the least of your problems, suddenly in your head with tripping over yourself.

By the time you hit the stop button, you'd ran twenty-two minutes and were damp with your legs sorely roaring.

You let the strip deposit you on stable ground, your hands holding your knees as you caught yourself. Sweat decorated the most unpleasant parts of your gym set: between your breasts, under your arms and down the seam of your pants.

It was what Toji wanted, right? You stood upright to feel your shadow of a man behind you.

"Good work," he praised, though his tone never changed. Toji leaned over your shoulder to examine your profile then lewdly licked at your bare skin. "You ready to be done?"

You shook your head. "What next?"

Toji curled his arms around you, adorning a squat belt around your waist. "I want you to work on your shit knees. You give up too easily when I ask you to ride me."

You said nothing, only grit your teeth at his claim. Shaking off his statment, you straightened your back and waited for his instruction.

"Where?"

Toji pointed to the next machine, the leg press. Though unfamiliar with it, you approached it with confidence and sat down at the base.

He stood next to your pull bar, staring at the lack of weight on the initial press. You watched as he adjusted a full bar extra, not sparing you a second glance as he wedged the pin in its place.

"How much?" You asked, moreso huffed with the second wind of the treadmill catching you.

A dark grin emerged on Toji's lips, leaning against the standing bar of the machine. "Fifty. That good for you?"

You hid a shake of your head, meeting the man's narrowed eyes and taking a deep breath. "Perfect."

You reached for the break bar but Toji's foot tapped onto your wrist, giving you pause. "Not a single break in between, or i'm adding an extra ten."

You snarled then, flaring your nostrils at him then flicking his foot away. You released the bar and braced you back and knees appropriately, holding the weight in your knees before pushing the flat piece up and exhaling as it came back down.

You focused on the machine and your breathing, the soft swirls of oxygen blotting into your vision. Still, you only stared at the weight braced on your legs and each succinct press up and down.

You kept form, ignoring Toji's scouring glare from his position at the machine stand. By the time you reached ten, your knees and thighs were blazing with heat and your stomach was rippling with sweat.

You took pause at twenty, holding each press down for longer and each press up for shorter. There would be a way you'd reach fifty, one day, but today was not that day. With a squeeze of your eyes, you pushed to thirty before blindly grabbing the break bar and applying it.

Rolling off of the machine, you hissed at the feel of your knees compared to gelatin. Your thighs were searing and tight, feeling like armed rubberbands just beneath the surface.

Toji chuckled at your futile effort, lying on your back to catch your breath and wince out the tenderness of your body. He moved quickly, bending to grab onto your belt and place you right back in the seat you'd wiggled out of.

"Toji, please," you pouted, ready to throw a tantrum though you'd agreed at the beginning. Your body had limits, you both knew that, but Toji liked the challenge.

Reaching for the brake bar, Toji tilted his head at you. "I was promised fifty."

It felt like a personal vendetta to see you squirm. You locked your knees at the base of the machine, not bracing the lift. "Please."

Toji's eyes became slits, baring down at you in silence. You knew he could be easily swayed, there was only so much begging you could do before he forefeited.

Still, he cocked his chin up and stared down at you. "You're twenty short. Now thirty."

Your brows furrowed in tandem of your pout, edging up from the starting position of the machine. "I'll do anything else. Please."

At that, Toji's eyes softened and the deviance in his grin returned. "Anything?"

You gulped at his catch on the word, but if it meant being out of this punishment, you nodded.

Toji grabbed your belt and carried you, weightlessly, to the center of the gym. He dropped you to the rubber matting in the open area and did another scan of the room.

"Take off your pants." He ordered, tilting his head in wait.

You stared up at him, an electric shock running through your back. Still, you obliged his request with peeling your sweaty gym pants down to your ankles then off of your sneakers.

Toji sneered at the sight of you, shaking his head as your feet planted on the floor to spread your legs apart. "No panties? Bad girl."

He knelt before you, his brows crooked into an expression unreadable. You sat up on your elbows, not wanting to acknowledge the sweat that glistened your reddened thighs and waist.

"Did you hear what I said?" Toji asked as you met his eyes.

Before you could answer, Toji swatted his hand on your clit twice. Hard enough to cause a sting. You blinked through the zap of pain that vibrated through you, holding Toji's stare when it subsided.

"Bad," he tilted his head with the enuncation of his words. "Girl."

Your brow cast over your eyes, glaring at him. "I did what you told me--"

Another two swats to your clit, which made your knees come together with a deep puff of air through your nose. Toji watched you hide the writhe of your body, staring at your face as it gained in redness.

"That, you listen to. But when I ask for a simple set, that's too much."

You opened your mouth to retort but was met with three more swats to your clit and then his knee forced up against your pussy.

"If I wanted excuses from you, I'd have kept you at home." Toji spat, staring down at you.

You squirmed against his knee providing the steady, heavy pressure to drive wet from you. Toji tsked, pulling back his knee at the last moment to leave you open to the cold.

"I'm sorry," you tried though Toji looked away from you. "I'll do better."

He snapped back to you, eyes narrowed. "When? Because right now, you're just a dirty little bitch."

Your nostrils flared, sitting up further, thinking the worst of the punishment was over. "You want stamina? I'll break your dick in half right now."

Toji shook his head. "Not likely."

You matched his glare, then glancing to the hard lining of his cock in his pants. "Try me."

Toji tilted his head in the opposite direction, reaching for the waistband of his pants. "Fine."

He shoved his pants down to his knees then grabbed your ankles to pull you towards him. "But if you pass out, I'll keep going."

You clenched your jaw, holding your knees apart. "If I last, you owe me."

"Owe you what?"

You lolled your tongue in your mouth and smirked. "We'll just have to see, won't we?"

Toji didn't give you a bit of warning, just grabbed your hips and thrusted you onto his at-attention cock. You straightened your elbows, bracing your hands to the floor as Toji rested on his haunches and used your body to drive onto him.

"Whats'a matter?" He taunted, forcing every inch of himself into you.

You felt stuck, feeling the tip of his cock push at your cervix. You hid a wince, he'd previously bruised the area before and he wasn't about to kiss it better now.

"Back off of that 'less you want another bastard," you snarled. The words escaped you and stung you.

Toji scoffed, driving his cock harder against your cervix then out, beginning a leveling pace. "You don't want to raise more of my bastards?"

You reached for Toji's neck, righting yourself on his lap. Staring down at him, you gripped at the nape of his hair and tugged angrily while holding back your tantrum.

There was never a time or place to talk about that. You leaned into him, baring your teeth as if ready to bite but met his thrusts with harsh rocks of your hips.

The two of you hissed in reciprocity, affected by what the other caused. Your hand grabbed at the back of his neck and squeezed, thinking of tearing through his tendons while they flexed in thrusts of his body.

Toji's fingers felt ready to tear into your hips, pull the flesh from your bones and crack you with every fiber of his being. Still, you two fucked and withheld the predatory will to strike your enemy when they were near.

You orgasmed, holding Toji's eyes as you panted. The grin on his lips was disgusting, intoxicating. "Ready to tap?"

You grit your teeth and rolled your shoulders back. "Never."

He switched positions, putting your new knees to the test. On his back, Toji tucked an arm under his head while his other held your hip.

"Go on, ride me," he ordered.

You clenched your knees to his sides and sank down on his length, ignoring the bittersweet roar that tore through your stomach. Hands bracing his chest, you lifted yourself back up and then down before you gained a pitiful rhythm.

Toji tsked his tongue. "You're pathetic."

You snarled, wishing to prove him wrong, and lifted your hips to the tip of his cock then drove him deep inside you. Toji's hand on your hip reeled back and spanked hard at your flesh, earning a stiffening of your body again.

"Do that again." He urged softly, his expressionless eyes never giving way to his enjoyment.

You did as told, rising on your knees then plopping down and pausing to writhe on the battering. Toji offered a moan in praise, low and muted in his throat.

"Again."

You did it a third time, this time circling your hips on the way down. Toji's demeanor cracked, his chest heaving at the sensation. You grinned, finding his weakness and ready to abuse it.

Your knees proved their worth with each stroke your pussy offered to Toji's cock. By the time your knees were ready to tap out, Toji had reached his limit.

He moved to switch you off of him, ready to prove your bet wrong, but you bounced on his cock a final time and earned him ducking his head to your chest.

He panted, willing to accept defeat so long as you didn't overextend your victory. Toji gulped, hands holding your hips to shift you on his cock.

Your hand went to grip his chin, tilt his face up to meet yours. Toji unfurled his tongue from his mouth, offering it as his white flag to you.

In response, you met his tongue with his, lapping at the twitching pink muscle while you rocked your hips to both of your wits ends.

Toji stopped you with a deep shudder into your mouth, cumming inside you as your cunt throbbed. The two of you held onto the remnant of pleasure, ignoring the display of you two in the public gym.

"I win," you spat, immediately climbing off of Toji and reaching for your pants.

Toji sat on the rubber floor, staring at you wrestling back into your workout pants. He cocked his jaw, hiding his sneer.

"What do I have to do then?"

You smiled, tilted your head at him on the ground. "You gotta clean up your mess before your son gets home."

Toji's brows furrowed as he shoved his pants back up to his hips. You went to grab your bag and jacket.

You stopped before him then rested your hands on your hips. "As if I'm having anymore of your bastards."

#fanfic #fan work #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #toji x reader #toji smut #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

[kingofthe-egirls]

Hear me out, y/n and Zoro are working out, and they like train fight together and y/n wins somehow, Zoro gets all grumpy and pouts and y/n says that they will make it up to him, and Zoro being Zoro, gets an idea, and then rest is up to you my dear writer!!

ooooooooooo ok

SPARRING ROOM: ZORO x Y/N

(cw: sword fighting, sweet self indulgent combat descriptions, minor stab wound, etc., sword language, kissing)

(a/n: so i tried to focus less on just the stage directions this time, since i've been wanting to delve more into the narration and what's going on inside reader's head. snakelike imagery as well as a lot of "S" words. sometimes it felt a lil clunky but we made it through lol)

Songs: "Ain't It Fun" by Paramore, "Sexy Villain" by Remi Wolf

words: 1.9k

"That's my girl," Zoro says, strong hand on your back as you finish up your set of push-ups (thirty second reps with fifteen second breaks between). He lets you sit up, stretching out your back.

"Thanks, Zo," you say, pushing up to standing. You take a long drink of water, drips tickling down your chin and onto your sports bra. Zoro clears his throat, and looks away. You smile.

Swordsmen are so noble.

"Wanna fight?"

Zoro scruffs his hand through his hair, pushing up to standing himself. He towers over you, a good several inches. Maybe a full foot. You knock your forehead into his chest. Headbutting is your way of showing affection, kinda like a cat.

He scruffs your hair, too, from where it's pulled back into a messy ponytail. "Sure," he says, and moves over to the side of the crow's nest where his three swords sit against the wall. You watch the ocean way below, swishing and sparkling as it laps against the Sunny.

You bend to pick up your own rapier, the silver filigree wrapping around your hand comfortably in a decorated knuckle guard. The dancing tiger that stalks its way across the sweepings guides you to victory, all the way down to the rapier's gleaming point.

You swipe it through the air, relishing the swiftness and flexibility of your sacred blade. Nightingale. She is a snakelike, hissing thing that speaks to you in whispers as she flies. You pair her with a short blade, held in your other hand with no less care.

Meadowlark.

Swordsmen are always worried about the length of their swords: the bigger the better. Typical. What they don't account for, however, is the deadliness of a shorter blade. The duck and strike, the rattlesnake bite, the venom of your speed strikes straight through their lowered guard. They always overestimate themselves, since your opponents usually have a longer reach than you. But your rapier is not alone.

She bites.

And so do you.

Swordswomen do not play fair.

You grin over at Zoro, who's checking the edges of his blades so as not to cut you. Speaking to them softly, caressing their sides and gripping their handles like a lover. His voice rumbles lowly across the glossy wooden floor, sweetly beckoning the swords to follow him, obey him, let him rule over them as he spars with his friend.

You almost hear them rattling in his hands.

Purring to your own blade, you remind her sharp edges not to bite so dangerously, but not to go too easy on him either. It's a delicate balance, talking to your swords. She whispers back seductively not to worry, that she'll swing with accuracy but not deadly force. She sighs in your hand, shivering as she readies for battle.

"Easy," you murmur to her, and she sings. Meadowlark buzzes in your hand, adding the bass to her soprano. "Ready?" You ask Zoro, swiping your sword through the air. You stalk towards him, stepping carefully across slats of glossy Adam tree.

Zoro smiles wickedly, placing his white blade between his teeth. He cherishes the handle of Wado Ichimonji as if she were sweetness itself. His sister's spirit lives inside this sword. You respect his three-sword style, and have yet to beat him in a sparring match.

Swiftly, you bow.

Zoro returns the gesture, and brandishes his two swords aloft. Wado Ichimonji gleams in the sharp florescent lighting of the crow's nest. Swiping the air, you stalk around your opponent, noting his strong biceps and flexing center. He lowers his center of gravity, bending swiftly before leaping forward to strike against your guard.

You swipe away the sharp edge of Wado Ichimonji, ducking aside as Zoro lunges forward, sword tilted in his teeth. He steps away from you, just barely, so that your swift disarming counter strikes harmlessly against Sandai Kitetsu's guard. Sparks glint off where the strong metals meet. You swipe Nightingale across his side, but he dodges. You stumble forward, slightly off balance.

"Shit."

Zoro laughs, growling around the white-wrapped handle of Wado Ichimonji. "Start again," he says, standing wide with a lowered stance. Enma gleams sharply in his strong fist. You turn, stepping around in a circle as he counters your movement across the floor.

"Stumbling is never a good sign," Zoro says, swords snickering in their triangle shape. She is making fun of you in particular: the sword singing softly in his right fist. Smirking, even. Zoro matches her sneer as he closes the distance between you in swift, even strides.

"Stop it," you whisper, tightening your grip around Nightingale's sweetly wrapped handle. She has a soft, white leather made from a doe's hide. She is a flourishing, sacred blade.

"Stop what?" Zoro asks, clashing his two swords against your rapier overhead. Sparks fly down between you, and you just barely dodge out of the way of Wado Ichimonji's strike. His three-sword style is a bitch, sometimes. Stepping back, you catch your breath.

He swings, again.

Sweet Meadowlark counters the sharp edge of Enma, screaming across the sharpened steel. You grit your teeth, bringing your dagger all the way down to the hilt of Zoro's katana.

"Not you," you hiss out through a clenched jaw. Staring at Sandai Kitetsu, you push forward even more, enough to get Zoro to stumble backward. He counters, quickly. He faints with Sandai Kitetsu, before slashing sideways at your open side. You yelp, a sharp, high-pitched noise at the back of your throat. Zoro smirks.

"Swords are makin' fun of ya?"

Snickering, the three katanas all bear down on you from overhead. He's so fast. You grunt, blocking them with rapier and dagger crossed above you. He knees you in the stomach.

"Ouch!" You scream, winded. You stumble backward, clutching at your abdomen. You spit saliva onto the floor. Zoro chuckles.

He plants both feet on the floor, standing shirtless in front of you, with nothing but his leather pants and green bellyband. You're only in a sports bra and shorts, yourself. Swiping Nightingale through the air, you sprint toward him at full speed.

Fainting with Nightingale, you strike at Zoro's blind side, before ducking quickly and jabbing Meadowlark straight into his chest.

"Shit!" You squeak, ripping your steel dagger out of Zoro's bloodied chest. You hit right between the ribs, on the side with his good eye. Blood trickles down his abs in a scarlet ribbon. You smile.

Strike One: Y/n.

But the victory tastes sweet for only so long, as Zoro bears down on you with a counterattack. You dodge out of the way, but only slightly, as Sandai Kitetsu shears off a lock of your hair.

"Fuck!" You scurry backward, a rogue at heart, meant to strike and retreat as quickly as possible. Zoro stalks forward again.

This time, he twirls Enma in one hand before striking down viciously at you with a barrage of attacks. Slashes, stabs, lunges. Swipes at your side, especially the side where you hold shorter Meadowlark.

"Shut up," you tell his sassy sword, who's been snickering at you this whole time. She chides your balance, your sword play, the way you're standing with too much weight on your left side.

She glides snakelike against your dagger, bouncing off the side. Your arm stings with the recoil. Shit. You barely keep your stance in place as you're forced to shuffle backward. Sandai Kitetsu bites your upper arm, and you hiss.

"Stop dodging," Zoro commands you, striking the wall behind you, right next to your head. "You have to fight back, or else you'll be dead." Sandai Kitetsu giggles in his hand.

You're panting, sweating with exertion. Zoro's strikes are so strong. He's stepping away from you now, giving you room to breathe. You hate when he goes easy on you. Snarling, you charge forward again.

Zoro meets you halfway, growling in his throat.

Your swords clang together harshly, metallic singing reverberating throughout the room. You both back up, stepping in tune with the other's movements. He stalks around you like a tiger, and strikes at your backside. He hits you with the flat of Sandai Kitetsu's blade.

"You're weak."

He challenges you, and you see red.

It's a spin, a stab, and a dance backwards, before your vision clears. Zoro is grimacing, another bright red stripe decorating his bare chest. It's right above his sternum, and a little to the left.

He grunts, and charges after you.

Swinging at your weak spot, Zoro brings Enma down toward your side. You block the strong, sweeping arch with the silver side of Nightingale's cross guard. She resonates with the sound of the blow.

You both hold for a second, struggling to push the other's weight off.

Eventually, you let go with a huff.

"That's enough," you decide, whipping your sword through the air with a signature flourish. Zoro nods, sheathing his own blades.

"Good job," he nods, heading back over to the side to wipe his face with a towel. He throws it into the dirty clothes hamper that one of you will eventually take down to the laundry room when it gets too full.

"Yeah, right," you seethe, jaw clenched. "I wish I was anywhere near as strong as you. I can be fast, and invasive, but...," you raise your shoulders, and let them fall with a defeated sigh. "Sheer strength-wise, you've got me beat."

Zoro shakes his head, "You're not that far behind me, actually." He sits down on the bench, elbows on his knees with a canteen in his hands. He chugs a lungful of water, adam's apple bobbing as he swallows.

"Yeah?"

You sheath your swords, and start a cool-down stretch routine. You lean over to one side, and then the other. You shake your legs in their sockets, trying to loosen up your hip flexors.

Zoro nods. "Not everyone can fend off Enma." He regards you steadily, his green eye flicking you up and down. You stretch your arms over your head. "Especially with a blade that flimsy." He smirks at your rapier, and you huff.

"She is not flimsy." You cross your arms, nose in the air. Nightingale hums in agreement at your side. Zoro sneers a laugh.

"Plus, you can understand sword language better than any other swordsman I've met. Not even Mihawk can hear his sword so well."

At that, you pause.

Your fingers flutter around Nightengale's hilt, and you grin. "Thanks, Zoro. That means a lot."

His face flushes, and he looks away.

"Well, yeah...," he says, gruff, before pushing off the bench to make his way over to you. He skims his knuckles over the outside of your arm. His fingertips dance along the diamond pommel of your sacred blade, and you gasp. He arches an eyebrow. "Feel that?"

You nod, stunned.

"That's the bond between a swordsman and his blade."

"Her blade," you correct, and he snorts.

"Rematch after dinner?" He pulls away, and leaves you aching. You stumble after him, a step or two. He turns, pausing, with his lips parted. Your swords are clattering at your side. He looks you up and down, a question paused in his mouth that you can't quite read.

"Kiss me?"

Zoro blanches, and for a moment you're stuttering, shocked at your own bravery, boldness, yours and his swords are all clamoring to be heard above the din of blood rushing in your ears, and--

Zoro cocks his head, smirking, and closes the distance between you.

He takes both your arms in his hands, holding you by the shoulders, and leans forward to place a kiss on your waiting lips.

"How's that?"

You smile like a little kid. "Perfect," you say, before wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in to deepen the kiss.

You can't wait for the rematch.

#this is so hard #sword fights #hard to describe #zoro #zoro x you #zoro x reader #zoro x y/n #zoro fanfic #one piece fanfic #zoro fluff #dumpster dive #kitty writes

[eksvaized]

𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖔𝖔

John "Soap" MacTavish x reader

The impatient knock on the door made you stand up straight. You shoved your still-full duffle bag into the wardrobe, deciding to unpack in the evening when everyone will cease bothering you.

Your eyes scanned your room before you opened the door to see who this time came to annoy you.

"Show me." Soap said and took a step closer to you, his palms pressing onto the outside of the door frame, as he leaned forward slightly, entrapping you. His figure towered over you, sheltering you from everyone strolling past your room in the hallway.

"I've been gone for almost two weeks, and when I return, instead of a warm greeting, I get… whatever this is, hmm?" You put your hands on your hips and cocked your head to the side. A small smile curled onto your lips as you pondered exactly what he was demanding to see.

You haven't seen Soap for a long time, and you have missed him. Out of everyone else on the team, you were the one closest to him, always by his side. And maybe you spent a lot of time with him, always looking for reasons you should hang out together just because you had a teeny tiny crush, but that didn't matter. You would never tell him that.

Confessing to him would be a poor idea, and you didn't want to risk it in case it wouldn't go as you hoped, and instead of Soap telling you he is head over heels in love with you, you would merely make things awkward between you two.

"Ghost said he saw it." Soap persisted, his fingers tapping against the wood impatiently, and it wasn't until he mentioned Ghost that you realised what he wanted from you.

"You want to see the tattoo?" You asked, and he nodded, grinning. "Fine. If you guess where it is, I'll show you."

There was no purpose in forcing Soap to play this game other than for your personal amusement. Ghost correctly guessed the placement of your new tattoo on his fifth attempt. Intrigued, you wondered if Soap could outdo him.

His blue eyes scanned your body, inspecting every inch of your skin that wasn't covered with clothing. You leaned lazily in the doorway, shaking your head each time he made a wrong guess.

When you realised he would not get it right, you sighed and straightened your back, hooking your fingers around his arm and dragging him inside the room before closing the door.

"You're awful at this game." You rolled your eyes at him.

"Because it's a shite game." He replied, and you both continued to bicker until you gestured for him to sit down on the bed.

He did as you told him, his eyebrows rising as a playful smirk appeared on his face.

Soap leaned his back against the wall, his lips parted, and you knew he was about to make some silly comment, but before he could say anything, you glared at him, and he closed his mouth.

You began undoing the belt on your cargo pants, and after unbuttoning the pants, you untucked your shirt.

At first, you avoided looking at Soap because you could feel his eyes sweeping over your curves. In any other situation, you would have been thrilled to get him in a position like this - on your bed, sitting and watching you strip - but you had to keep reminding yourself that you were his friend, he was here because he wanted to see your tattoo, and after you were going to show it to him, he was going to leave.

You dared to glance at Soap; it was as if he was under a spell, his wide eyes and fidgeting fingers unable to break away from your captivating presence, his gaze following your every move.

As your face got hot, the redness crept across your cheeks. Before he could see your embarrassment, you turned away and exhaled quietly, trying to gather your composure and ignore the loud pounding of your heart.

You gathered your shirt up, along with your sports bra, and tugged it up before pulling it over your shoulders, exposing your back to him. The bed creaked, and you heard Soap stand up. You looked over your shoulder to see what he was doing.

He approached you, his eyes skimming across your flesh. You turned your head away and bit inside your cheek, glueing your eyes to the ground.

His silence created an unsettling stillness that permeated the room.

"Do you like it?" You finally breathed out, gnawing on your lips anxiously.

You didn't get the tattoo to please Soap, but you wanted him not to hate it.

"Mhmm.." He was too lost in his thoughts to reply.

As his fingertips brushed across your skin, a faint shiver ran down your spine. The gentle touch sent a tingle of electricity through your body, causing your heart to skip a beat. You could almost hear the delicate brush of his fingers as they glided across the ink, following the intricate pattern on your back.

"Did it hurt?" He asked, but you had to pause for a moment before answering because words got lodged in your throat.

With just one touch from him, your body froze, as if you were about to melt into a puddle on the ground and your knees were on the verge of collapsing. He was so gentle, trying not to apply too much pressure, which made it difficult for you to keep still because his touch tickled.

“A bit." You finally breathed out. “But don't tell Ghost, because I told him I didn't feel a thing."

Soap laughed and nodded. The feeling of his warm breath on your back sent shivers down your spine, making you squirm involuntarily. Suddenly, he wrapped his fingers around your waist, letting them slide down as he squeezed your hips lightly.

"Don't move. I haven't finished looking yet."

You shut your eyes. His hands were warm, and you could feel his thumbs circling on your lower back. The overwhelming urge to surrender to your desires was making you question your sanity. You yearned to turn around, push him onto your bed, and capture his lips in a passionate kiss. Nevertheless, you suppressed these thoughts and maintained your composure.

He was your friend, right? And you don't go around randomly kissing your friends.

You kept repeating that in your head, but the way his fingertips grazed over your skin, his hands on your waist, his breath tickling you… It made you feel as if he was doing it all on purpose, like he enjoyed teasing you, pushing the boundaries, and waiting for you to snap.

Eventually, when he leaned so low that his nose brushed across your skin, you looked over your shoulder.

"What are you doing?" Your voice was a little high-pitched, but you managed not to stutter.

"Trying to get a better look." He replied, and you could see him trying to fight off the smirk that was beginning to form on his face.

You observed him slowly starting to rise, feeling the sensation of his nose gliding up your spine before he placed a gentle kiss on your shoulder.

"I love your new tattoo." As he leaned in close and whispered, you could feel the faint brush of his breath against your neck, sending a wave of goosebumps across your body.

The sound of your rapid breathing filled the room.

Soap stayed still for a bit longer, relishing in the sight of you crumbling and losing your composure due to his playful taunting.

But before you could confront him and ask what he was doing, you felt a soft tug on your shirt, as his fingers delicately slid down the fabric, covering your back.

He then said something about how he would see you later at dinner. With a mixture of surprise and confusion, you watched as he exited your room, leaving you feeling flustered, as you nibbled on your bottom lip, trying to understand what had just happened.

#call of duty #cod #john mactavish #john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mctavish x you

[dameronscopilot]

Your drabble for Benny has left me with dirty thoughts…….how do we feel about Gym sex with Benny? Benny works as a personal trainer outside of his MMA fights and he decides to train his darling near closing time at the gym and everything is going well until helps you with your squats 👀👀 ignore me I’m just horny for Benny

good form

Benjamin "Benny" Miller x f!reader

Summary: Benny's self-control only goes so far, especially when he's trying to teach you how to do squats.

Word Count: 2k

Rating: 18+ EXPLICIT

Content: NSFW, smut, unprotected p in v, creampie, size kink, rough sex, fingering, exhibitionism (gym sex), dirty talk, established relationship

The gym is nearly empty when you stroll in through the sliding glass doors after work, eyes sweeping over the room as you adjust the small duffel bag hanging off of your shoulder. While you don’t immediately spy the tall head of blonde hair that you’re looking for, you do happen to hear his familiar, deep laugh ringing out. Smiling to yourself, you follow the sound of Benny’s voice, eventually finding him near the back talking to a client.

You take your time as you approach, letting your gaze linger on Benny’s solid form as he stands with his feet firmly planted on the foam mats beneath him, arms crossed over his chest, his faded black t-shirt protesting against the stretch of his thick biceps. Busy or not, Benny still catches you staring, and his eyes flick to you for a brief moment as he nods along to what the other man is saying, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. Blowing him an exaggerated kiss, you stride past and make your way over to the locker rooms to peel off your work attire in favor of something more suitably appropriate for the gym.

Benny’s alone when you return, and he does a double take when he notices that you’ve opted to ditch your usual tank top and leggings for a pair of shorts and a sports bra. 

“You planning on sweating today, honey?” he asks with a grin. 

You offer him a wink in return. “Depends on how hard you work me tonight, coach.”

He raises an eyebrow, catching your chin between his thumb and pointer finger as he leans in to press a kiss to your lips. Given that you normally pop in to train with him on weekends when it’s far busier, you couldn’t help but take advantage of the opportunity to distract your boyfriend just a little while you essentially have the place to yourselves now. 

If Benny knows you did this to tease him, he doesn’t comment further, shifting into personal trainer mode as he begins walking you through the exercise plan he’s put together for the evening. And to his credit, he manages to stay focused throughout, though you do catch the tick of his jaw when he eyes the beads of sweat rolling down your sternum and between your breasts.

But any ground that Benny gains in mastering his self-control swiftly crumbles in a landslide when the time comes to work on your squats.

You’re terrible at squats.

Benny knows you’re terrible at squats.

He bites his lip in amusement as you make a few embarrassing attempts at squatting, but you know your form’s all wrong. After a few tries, you nearly topple sideways when you go to stand back up, but a firm arm wraps around your waist to steady you.

Benny stays behind you when you straighten, hands at your hips. He places his foot between your legs, nudging them slightly further apart.

“Shoulder-width. And let your feet turn outward slightly, depending on what’s most comfortable.”

“Okay.”

“Now take a deep breath, keep your back straight, and push your hips backward a little as you slowly lower yourself.”

You do as he says, but Benny stops you halfway.

“Hold on, here. Let me…”

He urges you to stand up straight before assuming the squatting position again, but this time, his body is right up against yours. 

“Deep breath.”

His chest now flush with your back, you can feel Benny inhale, too.

“Go down slowly, and don’t forget the hips.”

His hands slide down to your waist, fingers splayed over your hips, and he tugs you against him as you both begin to lower your bodies toward the floor. And although you should be concentrating on getting your thighs parallel to the ground, you’re far more interested in what you can now feel pressing into your ass.

After returning to a standing posture, you innocuously ask, “Can you show me again?”

Benny lets out an amused huff, immediately taking note of the way you’re purposely standing with your legs too close together. He comes to stand in front of you, nudging his thigh between your own, urging you to spread your legs further apart. A sharp thrill runs down your spine as he looks at you pointedly before resuming his position at your back. 

You begin to sink toward the floor.

“Hips,” Benny reminds you when you start to go down straight, hands coming out to tug at them.

And because you can’t resist, you arch your back as you press your ass directly against Benny’s dick, which is now straining insistently against the front of his gym shorts. His grip on your hips tightens, and you let a breathy little sound fall from your lips as you blatantly grind your backside against him. A husky groan leaves Benny’s mouth, and he mutters your name in a tone laced with warning.

So you do it again, reaching behind you to let your nails graze Benny’s neck as his shaft presses firmly between your cheeks. 

“Honey,” he breathes out roughly, his breath hot against your ear.

You smile, tangling a hand in his hair. “Hmm?”

His tongue darts out, trailing a scorching path along the sheen of sweat covering the side of your neck. “What do you think you’re doing?”

You wiggle your ass a bit, and a strangled moan fights its way out of his throat. 

“Nothing.”

“You sure? Because it seems like you want me to fuck you right here.”

You tighten your grip on his hair. “Yeah?"

“I didn’t even lock the front doors yet.”

“I'm sure you can be quick.”

Benny curses, biting down on your shoulder.

“Get on the floor.”

You lower yourself down onto your hands and knees, and Benny folds his body over yours, using one hand to tug your bra down until your breasts are spilling out. Fondling your tits, he teases your nipples as he ruts against your ass.

“Benny,” you whine, impatiently rocking back against him.

“You could’ve just asked me to come home early if you wanted this so bad,” he murmurs, grasping your neck and tilting your chin as he leans in to drag his lips against yours, kissing you fervently. 

He slides a hand into your shorts, fingers probing your slick, wet folds. “But you wanted me to fuck you right here, didn’t you?”

You whimper as his middle finger trails through your slit, toying with your fluttering hole.

“Someone could walk in right now and catch me stuffing my cock in your needy little hole, honey.”

He slips his finger inside of your cunt, and you moan, pleasure and anticipation coiling tight in your gut.

“Was gonna see if you wanted to have sex in the showers when we were done, but I bet you like this more. Driving me so fucking crazy I can't even finish a lesson without fucking you.”

Slowly, Benny pumps his finger in and out of your dripping channel, and you eagerly press into his touch.

“Might still need to keep working on your squats after, though. Wanna see you do them with my cum sliding down your thighs."

You keen in response, feeling dizzy at the filthy thought of his cum dripping out of you and all over the black mats with each squat.

Even if someone were to make their way into the gym now, you’re so desperate to feel Benny’s dick inside of you at this point, you don’t think you’d be able to stop. 

“You’re so fucking hot, baby,” Benny huskily drawls as he leans back, massaging the globes of your ass. 

He reaches into your shorts at the hem, tugging them and your underwear aside for access to your hot core, rather than pulling them down at the waistband. Your panties are soaked with your arousal, and Benny lets out an appreciative sound at the sight of just how wet you are for him. 

His pupils are blown wide with lust when you turn back to look at him as he pulls his thick shaft out of his shorts, spitting into his palm and pumping it a few times, though it’s already achingly hard, precum dribbling from the tip. 

Fingers and knees planted against the gym mats beneath you, both you and Benny moan in unison as he notches the head of his cock at your slick entrance and slowly begins to sink into the warmth of your cunt. 

“Fuck,” you breathe out heavily when he eventually bottoms out inside of you. 

No matter how many times you’ve been stuffed full with Benny’s cock, you still have to adjust to his length each and every time he breaches your sensitive channel. You never tire of the intense, blazing feeling that floods your gut as he splits you open, the way your mouth waters as you stretch to accommodate his girth. 

Benny knows how to take you apart slow and steady, dragging his shaft through your drenched core excruciatingly slow until you’re a whimpering, cock drunk mess, begging him to fuck you stupid. 

He knows how to make you moan till your voice is hoarse, till you've bitten your own lips swollen as he ruthlessly ravages your hole.

Benny knows how to make you come so goddamn hard with his dick stuffed in your pussy and two fingers lodged deep in your ass that you nearly black out.

He has a habit of seeing just how many body-shuddering orgasms he can pull from you before he can’t hold back from emptying himself inside of you any longer.

But tonight, there can be no finesse. No teasing. No dragging this out.

You’ll save that for later, when he pulls you into his lap in bed and kisses you tenderly while you rock into the cradle of his hips and ride him.

Here at the gym, the way he pistons his hips into yours is nearly uncoordinated with urgency, your cunt squelching messily each and every time he slams his cock back inside of it. Your underwear and shorts are sopping wet with your arousal, and Benny leans forward to palm at the swell of your tits once more, which are still hanging free from the confines of your bra. 

You love when Benny’s like this—sloppy and rough, fucking you like you were made for him. Fucking you like he wants to lodge his cock so deep inside of you it'll never come out. Fucking you so hard tears are pricking at the corners of your eyes as an intoxicating wave of pleasure thrums in your veins. 

“You feel so fucking good,” he chokes out, hips stuttering. “Don’t know how much longer I’m going to last.”

But there’s no need to keep his climax at bay once he reaches around to stroke your swollen clit, because it’s at that moment that you finally lose your composure, crying out in pleasure as the ache between your thighs burns white-hot. Your walls spasm and contract around his cock as you come, your arms and legs trembling with the force of the molten pleasure washing through you. 

“Oh fuck,” Benny pants when he feels your cunt clench down on his throbbing cock, his fingers digging into your asscheeks as he plunges as deeply inside of you as he can go before painting your walls with ropes of his release, filling you to the brim.

When he pulls his softened length from your sensitive hole, globs of cum begin to leak from your entrance, and you shiver as he swipes a finger through your sticky folds. You collapse onto the mat, rolling over onto your back and staring up at Benny’s flushed face as he pushes his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

Sitting up slightly, you grasp the collar of his shirt, roughly tugging him down on top of you as you capture his lips in a messy kiss. 

“Showers?” you ask, the expression on your face betraying the innocence in your voice.

Benny grins.

—

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[honeyhotteoks]

into the aurora - chapter nineteen (ot8)

chapter nineteen: the daily routine

chapter summary: the morning after your night with yunho, you spend breakfast with the boys.

warnings: nothing specific, some slight suggestive language.

pairings: ot8 x reader

genre: fluff, angst, romance, ateez ensemble x reader, polyamory, non-idol!reader, fem!reader, smut

word count: 4.6K

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Yunho sleeps soundly while you start your morning routine, pulling on your leggings and sports bra and rolling out your yoga mat. It had taken you a few minutes to successfully extricate yourself from his arms. Sometime during sleep he had pulled you into his chest and locked his arms around you, his face buried in your neck while he snored gently. When you finally got free, he replaced you with your pillow, curling his large body around it and falling deeply back asleep as you leave him in bed. 

Stepping onto your mat you let things drop away, sweeping your hair up into a ponytail and exhaling long and low, your eyes falling closed. As you start to move with slow and deliberate stretches, you feel the little aches in your tight muscles from the night before start to release. Your routine is so second nature now that you move steadily with each inhale and exhale, your eyes still closed, minutes flying by without you noticing. 

You don’t even hear Yunho stirring and pulling himself awake, but when you finally`1 finish with your legs crossed and back straight, you’re facing the bed and Yunho’s sitting up against the headboard, eyes on you and an easy smile on his face. 

“Oh,” you jump, a little startled, and rest a hand on your chest, “I didn’t know you were awake,” 

“Mm,” he nods, “not for too long, I just didn’t want to interrupt you.” 

“Thanks,” you smile, and stretch yourself out before standing up. 

“Come here,” he tosses his legs over the side of the bed so he’s sitting up properly now and catches your hand when you start towards him, pulling you in between his open knees. 

“Good morning,” you sigh when he slips his hands around your hips and squeezes softly. 

“Morning,” he looks you over and smiles. His voice is still a little husky with sleep when he says, “god, you’re pretty,” 

Yunho pulls you into him to kiss you, tender and warm, his hands roaming freely over you now from the small of your back to the curve of your backside, up to brush along your breast. 

You smile against his mouth before pushing him back a little, “I need a shower,”

“Mm, I definitely don’t mind,” he quirks an eyebrow at you and pulls gently at the top of your leggings, letting the fabric snap back into place a moment later. 

“Yunho,” you shake your head and kiss him again, but it’s quick this time and you step out of his hands. 

“Okay, okay,” he flops back on your bed with a smile and crosses his arms behind his head, watching as you move back to roll up your yoga mat and finish your morning routine, “shower first,” 

You toss a grin at him, and you don’t even think twice when you unzip the bag on your desk and drop your daily medications out, taking them quickly with water before replacing them in their designated spot. When you look back at him, he’s sitting up again, a look on his face. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” he shakes his head immediately, but you watch his eyes unconsciously flick towards the bag on your desk, and of course he is unsurprisingly on high alert after your conversation last night. If he was as much of a worrier as Mingi made him out to be, he had to be jumping to conclusions. 

“I’m fine,” you assure him. 

“Can I ask?” He says simply now that you’ve opened the door just a little to acknowledge it. 

“They’re anti-depressants and anti-anxiety,” you step back towards him, “there’s nothing you have to worry about, I just don’t really like to advertise it.” 

“Oh,” he nods, and you can see him thinking. After a beat he says, “Are they helping?” 

You sit on the edge of the bed next to him and nod, “For a long time now, it’s just part of my routine.” 

“That’s good then,” he nods, mostly to himself, and leans in for a quick, soft kiss, “I won’t mention it to anyone else.” 

“Mingi knows,” you clarify for him, “and I’m not embarrassed or anything, I just don’t really like to talk about it.” 

“I get that,” he nods immediately, “and I’m sorry if it felt like I was prying.” 

You shake your head and slip your hand in his, “Not at all,” 

He pulls you in for another kiss, lazy and slow this time, his nose nuzzling yours when he shifts his head from one side to the other. He murmurs against your lips, “Breakfast?” 

With a laugh you lean back to look at him, “Are you cooking?”

“Sure,” 

“Can you even cook?” So far, you’ve only seen him grill meat. 

“I have cooked,” he grins, “come on, let’s go.” 

He pulls you up and out the door, his hands never leaving you, and you’re instantly grateful for the way he saw your boundary line, acknowledged it, and took a step back. Mingi, as usual, was right about him, and Yunho is surprising you the longer you spend time with him. 

In the kitchen, Yeosang is already drinking his morning cup of tea and Seonghwa is up too, scrolling through his phone and drinking his coffee. When you and Yunho stumble into the living room, his lips attached to your neck and his arms wrapped around you from behind, Seonghwa laughs. 

“Finally,” he grins. 

Yeosang snorts a laugh into his tea and turns to look at you both, giving you a smile. 

“Hwa,” you roll your eyes and Yunho blushes behind you, his ears running a little red. 

“What?” Seonghwa shrugs, “I’m not the one who’s just stared at her for weeks from across the room,” 

“Don’t be mean,” you smile and squeeze Yunho’s forearm that’s still wrapped around you. 

Yunho untangles himself from hanging on you and kisses your head, moving into the kitchen and opening the fridge. 

“Is he cooking?” Yeosang questions, eyebrows raised. 

“Apparently,” you smile, and you catch Yunho rolling his eyes as he roots around in the cupboards. 

“You’re cooking?” Seonghwa leans around the bar and asks. 

“I have literally cooked for all of you before,” he sighs, “now shut up and let me do something romantic for the girl.” 

Seonghwa grins, loving the way he’s making Yunho squirm a little, and then turns to you, “Good morning,” 

“Hi, Hwa,” you smile, moving into his space and prodding him in the ribs, “be nice,” 

“I’m always nice,” he protests softly, pulling you into his waiting arms, “but this is what older brothers do,” 

“A year older,” Yunho grumbles from the kitchen and when you glance over you see that he’s still staring inside the fridge and assessing ingredients. 

“Still,” Seonghwa shrugs and then shifts to press his lips to yours. 

You relax into his touch, kissing him back until he leans back and gives you a squeeze, “Coffee?” 

“Please,” you nod eagerly and he laughs a little before stepping around you and joining Yunho in the kitchen. 

You ease onto the barstool next to Yeosang and stretch your tired limbs a little more, “Hey,” you nudge him. 

“Morning,” he smiles, catching you for a quick kiss before wrapping an arm comfortably around you. 

When Yunho takes a ttukbaegi off the shelf and sets it on the counter in front of you by a carton of eggs you smile, “I haven’t had steamed eggs for breakfast in a while,”

“Yeah?” He glances up at you, “you like them, right?” 

“Oh, yeah,” you nod enthusiastically and his shoulders relax a little now that he knows he hasn’t picked wrong. 

“Good,” he smiles as he opens the carton of eggs, “they’re my favorite.” 

“They’re also easy,” Seonghwa teases, but you notice the way he takes the bottle of mirin from the cupboard and delivers it to him without further comment. 

Before Yunho tries to jump in and defend his choice you shake your head, “Easy and simple isn’t a bad thing, staples are staples for a reason.” 

Yunho grins wide, but keeps his eyes focused on his task of cracking three eggs into the earthenware pot. 

“Can I help?” You ask him. 

He shakes his head, “Just relax,” 

When you moved here, you really didn’t expect them to be so adept at taking care of you, but it’s such a welcome thing. After years of living on your own and fending for yourself, skipping breakfasts more often than not, the way they’ve come to care for you is tenderness in and of itself. 

Yunho moves with confidence despite his lack of experience in the kitchen, and you watch as he chops a bundle of spring onions with sure movements of his knife. Behind you, the rest of the house wakes and starts to move. San and Wooyoung stumble in next, arguing quietly about something but the minute they see you their expressions clear. 

San wraps himself around you from behind, pinning Yeosang’s arm between your back and his chest, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Yeosang sighs, but San just pulls him in too and ignores his little noise of protest. 

Wooyoung kisses you fast, craning around to even reach your lips, “Hey, baby,” his smile is full of flirtatious energy even this early and you roll your eyes at him. 

Yunho adds water and salt to the pot along with the mirin and green onion, and as he whisks them all together Wooyoung leans over and assesses the ingredients he’s using. 

“Sugar,” he says, nudging his friend, “don’t forget the sugar.” 

“I know,” Yunho protests, but you’re not sure if he actually did know before this moment. 

“And baking powder,” Wooyoung suggests again, “just a little. It helps them get really puffy,” 

“Woo,” Yunho looks over at him, leveling him with a look. 

“What?” Wooyoung balks a little at how irritated Yunho seems and throws his hands up, “I didn’t realize this was a romantic gesture thing, I thought this was a making eggs thing,” 

“Woo,” you jump in, waving him over, “come here, stop antagonizing him.” 

Yunho gives you a quick smile, adding a pinch of sugar quietly and crossing over to the stove to start to heat up the burner. Seonghwa delivers your cup of coffee then, and leans on the counter with his hip, “It’s hot,” he warns you gently. 

“Thank you,” you blow softly on the steaming liquid and let the warmth of the cup seep into your hands. You lean into San’s arms, laughing to yourself a little when you sigh, “When I said yes to living here, I didn’t think I’d be mediating spats between my eight boyfriends, but I guess it makes sense,” 

Wooyoung laughs, sharp and harsh, clapping once and seeming thrilled at the rise it’s getting out of Yunho, who in all this banter really just wants to do something nice and sweet for you.

“Boyfriends?” San says, looking down at you. 

“Well,” you realize with the exception of Yunho, they’re all looking at you with wide eyes, “yeah, I mean… aren’t you?” 

“We are,” Yunho interrupts immediately, assuaging your spike of nerves, though he’s still focused on whisking up the egg mixture. 

“Exactly,” Yeosang says, “you just haven’t said it before,” 

“It sounds nice though, doesn’t it?” Seonghwa smooths a hand over yours, “I like it,” 

“Boyfriend,” San repeats, mostly to himself before he squeezes you and kisses your temple, “It does sound good when you say it,” 

“Well in that case,” Wooyoung leans forwards on the counter, “that would make you our girlfriend, wouldn’t it?” 

“Uh,” you’re a little caught by his direct and sudden gaze and you nod, “yeah,” 

“Good,” he quirks an eyebrow at you, “get used to hearing that all the time.”

Seonghwa smirks as he watches Wooyoung flirting with you, and San drags you closer to his chest. Yeosang’s hand slips from between you and San and settles on your thigh, fingers tightening just a little. 

“Alright,” Yunho’s tone makes your head snap up, and despite the jealous glint in his eyes as he looks at you between his best friends, he settles his gaze on Wooyoung, “how much baking powder?” 

“Like a half teaspoon,” he replies instantly, no trace of teasing in his tone. 

“Cool,” Yunho clears his throat, and reluctantly adds, “thanks,” 

You want to point out how jealous they’re being of each other, how clingy and handsy, and how suddenly out of nowhere they’re not waiting until they’re in private to flirt with you as directly as they’re doing now, but any words you’re forming in your mind disappear the minute the rest of the boys make their way into the kitchen. 

“Is Yunho cooking?” Mingi squints his tired eyes as he pulls down the giant container of whey protein from the cabinet. 

“Oh my god,” Yunho groans, “not you too.” 

You fall apart into hysterics, pulling yourself away from San and Yeosang, winding around Seonghwa so you can make it to Yunho who’s now standing at the stove, stirring the frothy egg mixture. You wrap your arms around his middle from behind, pressing a warm kiss to his back, “Don’t listen to them,” you give him a squeeze, “thank you for cooking for me,” 

“Mm,” He murmurs, but he lays his hand over yours. 

You shift back, coming to stand next to him and watch him work, and as you do you hear Hongjoong and Jongho make their way into the shared living space. 

“What’s going on?” Hongjoong says. 

“Yunho is making our girlfriend breakfast,” Wooyoung says, and you can hear the teasing grin in his voice. 

“Girlfriend,” Hongjoong repeats, like he’s not used to the word in his mouth. 

You walk back towards the rest of them, leaning on the bar, “Okay, okay,” you sigh, “don’t make a big thing of it.” 

Hongjoong smiles, “We all have to leave in thirty minutes,” he says, “Yunho are you going to be ready?” 

“Yep,” He says and when you glance back at him you see that he now has the lid on the pot and is fixing the rest of your breakfast - small squares of seaweed, steamed rice, and chopped kimchi ready to pair with the egg. 

“Is it a late day?” You check with Hongjoong. 

“Not too bad,” He shakes his head, “we should be back around eight,” 

“Should we have dinner tonight?” You ask, “Together?” 

You’re starting to understand how rare it is that schedules overlap well and at dinner time no less, but the prospect of sharing time with all of them together is something you crave. 

“That sounds perfect,” Seonghwa offers. 

Hongjoong nods, “Let’s,” 

Jongho moves to shift past you, and you feel his hands anchor themselves on your hips as he slides behind you, pressing a fast kiss to your temple, “Dinner’s good,” he says, unfazed like he didn’t just kiss you in front of everyone, “we’ll pick up?” 

“Um,” Your stomach flip flopped at the feeling of his hands on you and nod as you shake off the sudden daze, “that would be great, I might be at the office late.” 

“Hmm,” San’s nose scrunches at your words, “why late?”

You sigh and lean back on the island, “Chae and I are working on a project and we’re a little behind,” 

“You shouldn’t work so much, jagi,” San squeezes your arm gently. 

You roll your eyes and give him a nudge, but before anyone can say anything Yunho jumps back in. 

“Breakfast,” He smiles, “now give her back her seat and let her eat,” Yunho narrows his eyes pointedly at Wooyoung who had taken your bar seat next to Yeosang when you had gotten up. 

Wooyoung hops up and sticks his tongue out briefly at Yunho, but then pulls the chair out for you. As you sit down, Yunho arranges your breakfast in front of you, seeming a little proud that he clearly did well with the egg. 

“This is perfect, thank you,” You smile as you tuck in. Yeosang slides his hand back to its place on your thigh, and you feel Wooyoung’s hand spread along your back. They are so affectionate today, touchy and flirty and warm, and as you eat it takes a harsh reminder from Hongjoong about how little time they have to pull them away from you. 

You don’t have to start getting ready until they leave, so you eat in peace, comforted by the busy sounds of the house behind you. Your mouth is full of food when Yunho wraps his arms around you from behind and kisses your head, “Everything good?” 

“Mm,” You nod, mouth full and laughing. 

He pokes your full cheek and smiles, “Cute,” 

All you can manage is an eye roll but he kisses you again and steps away, “Last night was nice,” 

You nod, swallowing and laughing, Yunho grinning at you all the while, “It really was,” 

“We should do it again sometime,” He shrugs a little. 

“Oh?” You raise an eyebrow at him. 

“The date,” He shakes his head, his eyes widening when he realizes what he implied, “the date, obviously.” 

“Mhm,” You push yourself up from the table, stepping close into his space until his back connects with the wall behind him, and you rest your hands on his chest, “definitely, the date.” 

He clears his throat softly and settles his hands on your upper arms, “And you know,” he’s shifted a little, back to flirting, “and whatever happens after the date, happens.” 

“I like it,” You murmur, craning up a bit on tip toe. 

He presses down and catches your mouth, gathering you closer with supportive hands as he kisses you soundly. You’re lost in it for a moment before the sound of someone loudly and intentionally clearing their throat breaks your lips apart. 

“Three minutes,” Hongjoong says evenly. 

“Yeah,” Yunho calls back, “got it,” with an apologetic smile he steps you back and slides out of your arms. 

“Go,” You tell him, “I’ll see you tonight,” 

He’s out of sight a moment later, and you move back into the main part of the kitchen to make a second cup of coffee. 

“Did you get the email from Eden?” Hongjoong asks, pouring himself a cup into a travel mug. 

“Mhm, the meeting tomorrow is moving?” 

He nods, “And I’ll be at the studio after, if you’re around. I have a few things I want to show you,” 

“Of course,” You nod enthusiastically, “I’ll be there.” 

“Good,” He softens, “I’d like that.” 

There’s a bit of a pause as you reach for the bowl of sugar, and Hongjoong seizes the moment of quiet to pull you close and press a hot kiss to your lips. You make a squeak of surprise, but let him maneuver you closer, his hand slipping into your hair. 

“Mm,” You pull back, “you have to go,” 

“I know,” He dives in again, his tongue flicking along yours. 

His phone dings, a little alarm to tell him it’s actually time to get everyone into the cars, and he finally leans away, leaving you blushing and breathless. “Have a good day at work,” he finally says. 

“You too,” You smile, “have a good shoot.” 

He kisses you once more, quick and punctuating his goodbye, before he starts to gather the boys and herd them out into the garage. They’re gone fast, rushing as always, and once the house is empty you start the rest of your routine. 

At work, half the office is away for the day, leaving you and Chae huddled close together and reviewing the next several weeks of work ahead. Comeback is still a few months away, but the lead up was a long one. Even still, you’re shocked by how many moving parts must slot together just right to produce what you see during three weeks of comeback. 

It’s nearly four o’clock by the time you surface from staring at your computer screen with her and your eyes are aching, stomach growling from the lack of lunch. 

“God,” Chae sighs, “I feel like we’re not even making a dent,” 

“I know,” You commiserate, and for a brief moment you think the boys might just make it back to the dorms before you do. 

“Do you think we’ll get everything done by Friday?” You ask her. 

“We better,” Chae groans, “I haven’t missed a deadline yet.” 

She shakes out her arms, stretching her neck and standing, “I’m taking a lap around the building and then get some coffee. I’ll bring you back one?” 

“Please,” You nod, knowing that she means she’s going to head downstairs to the small cafe instead of just grabbing a reheated cup from the pot in the kitchenette, “make it extra strong or I’ll start to fall asleep,” 

“I know,” She grabs her wallet, “my eyes are crossing,” 

You watch her walk away, making a beeline for the elevators and the spike of caffeine you both need. You take the moment of quiet to check your phone, sliding through the group chat and catching up on messages. It’s mostly quiet today with the boys filming, but you smile at the few messages that have bounced back and forth. In a separate chat, you read through a few updates from their main manager. You’ve been added to the chat for anything related to the dorms or household updates, and while you always feel a little uneasy participating in the chat, you’re glad to be kept in the loop. 

Only a few of their managers and staff really know about you, and at this point you’ve spent more time with the drivers than managers directly, but they’re overwhelmingly kind and don’t treat you with anything less than respect. You read through the second chat, their manager organizing a dinner pick up later since they won’t be off set until seven or eight. Everyone’s claimed their dinner, clear and concise orders, but you smile when you hit Jongho’s. He’s written out his dinner, and yours, already knowing exactly what you want from the restaurant. He’s quiet, but clearly observant. 

A hot latte drops in front of you and Chae smirks as she collapses into her chair with a dramatic sigh, “What’s got you all smiley?” 

“Nothing,” You click the lock on your phone to darken the screen and set it aside. 

Chae narrows her eyes, “We’re friends, you know,” 

“Yeah,” You nod, but a little hesitation in your tone, unsure of where she’s going. 

“If you’re dating someone,” she raises an eyebrow, “you have to tell me.” 

You laugh and shake your head, “I do?” 

“Mhm,” Chae takes a long sip of her own coffee, “I’m a naturally curious person, indulge me,” 

“I’m not,” You smile, “I’m just in a group chat with some friends,” 

She huffs, “Well you should start dating someone, you work too much.” 

“Chae,” You laugh, “you work more than I do,” 

“Eh,” She waves you off, “maybe, but I still have a social life.” 

“Are you dating someone?” You turn towards her in your desk chair, leaning back and enjoying the quick break to talk about something that isn’t work or a looming deadline.  

“Casually,” she shrugs, “and I have a date tonight.” 

“Ah!” You exclaim, “Who is he?” 

“Well,” Chae’s expression softens a little, and you can practically see how deeply the crush runs, “she’s a teacher actually, at SNU.” 

You blanch a little at your mistake, “I didn’t mean to assume,” 

Chae brushes you off, “It’s fine,” 

“So,” You can still see the look in her eyes, “how long have you been seeing her?” 

Chae seems to relax a little at your easy shift and says, “Three months,” 

“How did you meet?” You ask. 

“A bar,” She laughs, “but I’ve been seeing her every week or so since,” 

“And tonight?” 

“Dinner,” She says, “so I have to leave right at seven.” 

“Ah, so that’s the reason for the new outfit,” You tease her. 

You press her some more, both of you enjoying the break in the day. She tells you about the woman she’s dating, and you swap stories about your past relationships, details here and there to share. You work some more, you talk some more. Day by day working shoulder to shoulder with Chae you’re getting closer, the feeling of establishing yourself and your roots in Seoul evident now. 

At seven, when it’s finally time for her to leave, she packs up quickly, “Are you staying later? Go home,” 

“Just a little,” You shake your head, “I have just one more thing to get done,” 

“Mhm,” She knows you're lying, but she seems too excited for her date to care properly.

“Have fun tonight,” You usher her off. 

She’s a foot from the elevator before she stops and turns on her heel, running a hand through her short hair, “I look all right?” 

“You look perfect,” You assure her, “very chic.” 

“Okay,” She shrugs on her coat, pressing the button for the elevator. 

“Don’t stay out too late,” You joke, “early day tomorrow.” 

“Ugh,” She smiles as the elevator slides open, “don’t remind me.” 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” You say, starting to turn back to your keyboard. 

“Team dinner, Wednesday!” She calls out, “Don’t forget!”

“Got it!” You wave, “Now go before you’re late!”

“Yeah, yeah,” You hear her as the doors start to slide shut and you can’t help but laugh at her sudden nervous energy. Team dinner again, and you can feel yourself slotting further into this group of friends. 

Rubbing the exhaustion from your eyes, you focus back again, headphones on and chair pulled in close to your desk. Just one more hour, that’s all you need to finish this out. You know it. 

It’s nearly ninety minutes later when you get the notification on your phone that the boys are home, and you’re shocked out of your focus at the sound of the text tone. 

jagi where are you?? we brought dinner - San’s text reads. 

on my way - i promise!! - You fire back quickly. 

if you’re still at the office can you grab my charger before you come home? - Hongjoong’s message comes through. 

on it - You reply. 

hurry home, the chicken will get cold - Yeosang adds with a series of crying emojis. 

You smile, grabbing Hongjoong’s charger from his desk quickly and hurrying towards the elevators - twenty minutes, i swear x

be safe x - San’s text reads, and you feel the flutter in your chest. 

This time of night, now well after dark you can easily take public transit home and slip into the back entrance of the dorms without much issue. The streets would be too busy and night too dim for fans or fan sites to be poking around, and with a mask on and staying discreet if anyone saw you and realized you were there for them, you’d probably just seem like staff. 

i’ll be home soon, and don’t eat all the sides - You send through before you hit the street, tucking your phone away so you can focus on getting there. 

Twelve hours and you already miss their faces. Their warm touches and the way they make you laugh. You miss their stories, and the way they always seem to find the smallest and most genuine ways of caring for you. You know when you get home they’ll already have a place for you at the table, a plate ready and a stack of food far too large reserved just for you. You know when you get home, they’ll be waiting.  ~next chapter will be posted sunday, october 16th at 10:00 AM ET

#into the aurora fic #ateez #ateez fic #ateez ff #ateez smut #ateez fluff #ateez series #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #mingi #san #wooyoung #jongho #ateez x reader #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yunho x reader #san x reader #wooyoung x reader #mingi x reader #jongho x reader #kim hongjoong #park seonghwa #jeong yunho #kang yeosang #choi san #jung wooyoung #choi jongho #song mingi

[bri-the-fando-meister]

The Sting

Minho x Reader Female --- Newt is also in it

Summary: A few months ago, Minho's best runner got stung, he was worried about them, because he loved them. That was you, you were his best runner. One day, he saw your sting, and it was not shucking pretty.

TW: Short part about offing self, swearing, description of wound

1700 words, 12 minute read time

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

You and Minho had been extremely close since you became his best runner, well, that was until the horrid day that you got stung. Then you became even closer.

He was there when you went through the changing, he saw you flail about, he saw you screaming in tortured agony. He even saw you as your hands fixed around your neck, squeezing until your face grew purple. He remembers that horrifying and gripping moment of him prying your hands away, only to be met with screaming, but he knew it wasn't you.

You didn't like him seeing you as you were, you were an animal - a sick wounded animal that wanted to get away from it all, but couldn't.

"I don't know if you are going to get through this or not but, Y/n, I love you. I am so sorry I let this happen to you. I am such a slinthead and I shucking love you."

When you had recovered enough to think straight, you decided to see if he actually did love you, like he had said. "Minho, was my brain making klunk up when I went through the changing or did you actually say you loved me?" Minho smirked.

"I guess that means you love me too?"

You nodded so fast that your head could have fallen off.

"I guess that it's official."

It had been 2 months ago, the two of you had been together 2 whole months.

Because of the whole griever incident and your arm being a bit, gruesome looking, you religiously wore a jumper to hide it from people that may see it. Shuck, not even Minho had seen it being your boyfriend and all.

One night though, you had accidentally let your guard down.

"Minho, I am gonna change shirts, k'? This shirt is soo itchy."

You pulled your jumper and shirt over your head doing that twisty arm thingy. That left you in just a sports bra and your shorts, your arm was in plain sight.

Then he saw it, all of it. Your heavily bruised, puckered, swollen, and red arm with a scabby circular shape sitting inside it all.

"Fuck Y/n, that looks infected. Has it been like that since the, sting?" He was worried, it was the most worried you had seen Minho since the initial sting.

You shrugged it off "Ehh, it's not that bad Minho. Just slim it nice and cool will ya"

"No, no, No this is bad, it is infected. I need to get you to the med-jacks. They will know what to do. You are going no matter what, Y/n, this is serious."

"Whyyyy, I don't need it. Nobody was even meant to see it." you were whining at Minho, you hate being fussed over and being seen as weak.

"Come on Y/n, we can do it the easy way or the hard way." He spoke to you as though you were a little kid.

"I guess it will have to be the hard way, I am not going anywhere for shuck sake." you fumbled around Minho's hut, it was kinda yours too, you needed to get a shirt and your jumper on.

"Ok, if you do say so" Minho smirked, "Y/n, you are coming with me whether you like it or not, don't be a slinthead because I am much, Much stronger than you" and with that, he used one leg to sweep your feet from under you and caught your back on the way down.

The entire situation turned into Minho having the upper hand. He was carrying you bridal style to the med-hut with you kicking out and flailing around.

"I didn't quite expect 'this' to be how I got you to the med-hut. You are normally much better behaved than this."

You protested. "Minho, put me down. I said PUT ME DOWN! Ok, have it your way, sorry in advance."

Minho had his guard up, he knew you were going to do something.

You began to squirm around in his big arms getting to the perfect angle with one arm hanging in between his legs.

Then you hit him in the family jewels. Then he dropped you. Then you ran off. Then you ran into something. Then the something spoke.

"Bloody hell Y/n, watch where your shucking going." then he saw your arm. "Oh my god Y/n, did you get stung again? What happen-" he trailed off. Even at night you could tell by the voice who it was, it was Newt. "Y/n?"

"Yes Newt?"

"Why is Minho in the middle of the glade doubled over clutching his nutsack?" Newt was, to say the very least, curious.

So, you told him the story while Minho began walking the 100 meters between you and him.

"Wow Y/n" Minho had arrived back "You and Minho have had, quite the night, hey?"

"I guess so, but forget you ever saw my piece of klunk arm"

"Y/n" It was Minho, he was speaking firmly, you could tell he was serious at the time "You still need to go, if not by my word, Newt's authority. Are we going to do this the easy way or the hard way? Your choice"

"I'm not going, you can get some stuff from the medjacks and bring it to our hut. Nobody else is seeing my bloody arm!" you were practically yelling at the end, you were ready to fight a losing battle.

Minho approached you slowly, both hands open facing you, as not to scare you. "Come on Y/n, please, for me?" and with that he lunged forward and snatched your wrist. "Fuck off Minho, let me go." before you knew it, you had socked him in the jaw.

"Minho, sorry, I am so sorry, I didn't mean to do that, I am so, so sorry. Sorrysorrysorry."

"You really don't want to go huh? I am sorry, but you have to, it is too infected, you could get sepsis and die if it isn't treated" Minho was pissed, and you knew it. He wasn't used to you being snarky.

Minho turned to Newt and spoke to him while he was still holding your wrist.

"Newt."

"Yeah Minho"

"Grab one of her arms, I don't care if she wants to or not, she, is, going." Minho spoke bluntly.

"On it, Minho"

Before you knew it, both of your arms were being held as you were hoisted to your feet, you were being defiant and you knew it, so you decided that 'if they want me there that bad, they can drag me'.

Yep, you had gotten yourself into quite the predicament. Your boyfriend and the second-in-command of the glade were dragging you by your arms to the medhut, it definitely wasn't a desirable situation. So you know, you kicked out at Minho in hopes that he would let go of you.

"Y/n, cut it out, it's not the end of the shucking world."

You kept trying to kick him.

"Newt, can you hook your other arm under her leg. Just keep her still please."

You weren't able to kick or hit anymore, you were defenseless.

"Hey Minho" Newt said

"Yeah Newt, what's up?"

"Yanno, you did a good job at picking a shucking girlfriend that is as feisty and stubborn as you."

"Oi, you little slinthead"

The two boys were actually kind of funny, listening to them talk to each other was somewhat calming.

"Y/n, are you going to walk now, or do Newt and I still have to be your personal slaves?"

"I- I will walk now, I guess it does need to get looked at."

"Good choice" the two boys said in unison as they dropped your legs, they still held onto your arms though, you had had a history of running off at random times.

You didn't think it could get any worse, but then, Alby came out of the medhut 300 meters away. Ok, ok, Alby walking out of the medhut was no big deal, he was probably just checking on his men.

And then you remembered that if he saw you being led to the medhut with two of his best men holding your arms tight he would in the very least, be concerned.

You stopped dead in your tracks and didn't want to go nearer to Alby, he would not be happy that you kept your poor arm a secret.

"Come on Y/n, Newt and I can drag you again if you want."

"And then Alby will be more inclined to come over" Newt added.

Shuck, what would you do, you could plant one foot far in front of you so they couldn't drag you, or you could actually listen to them for the first time that night. You knew what you were going to do.

You dug your left heel into the dewy night grass and put your right foot backwards and twisted it, bracing for being pulled. Though you knew that you were no match for the boys.

Then you felt them trying to drag you, but they weren't. Your bracing helped. Them Minho picked up your front foot rendering your attempts at bracing yourself useless.

"Come on Y/n, any more of this bullshit and I will be calling Alby over, you don't want him seeing you, do you?"

"Fine, I will walk, just let go of me, it is bringing too much attention."

"Promise not to run off, I don't wanna get angry boyfriend on you."

"Promise, Minho"

Then they let go, and to you followed along, a plan already brewing in your mind.

"Good, good Y/n, see, you are able to behave. We have already walked 50 meters. Good job" Minho was happy you decided to behave.

You looked over to the trees at the deadheads, you could easily get there before Minho caught up to you, surprisingly though, he was the fastest in the glade, Ben coming second.

Minho and Newt let you walk in between them, though they were both only a foot away from your arms- to run would be close but not impossible.

You began to build up good rapport with them, they trusted you. You hated to need to break their trust, but it was your only chance, you were only 100m away from the medhut.

"Y/n, you have slowed down, you aren't planning on running. Are you?"

"I- I was going to, Minho, I don't know why, but I am scared."

He grabbed your waist and pulled you in tightly.

"I love you Y/n, it will be okay, I won't let anything bad happen to you."

#the maze runner #maze runner #tmr minho #tmr newt #tmr minho x reader #tmr newt x reader #tmr alby #writing #tmr books #tmr fanfiction #tmr fandom

[marvelavengerspovs1]

Winter Wolf Ch. 3

Winter Wolf Masterlist

Warnings: mentions of Y/N, mentions of violence

Length: 1022

A/N: Hey y’all! I have finals these next 2 weeks and haven’t had time to write or even read much on here. I’m just posting this chapter because it’s been written for months. As of right now, I am no longer adding people to the taglist. I know that it may be frustrating but right now I do not have the time to add people to the list, eventually I will open it back up so you all know when I add a chapter! Thank you for understanding! Also, I just hit 200 followers so thank you so much!!

I do not give consent for my work to be translated, copied, or sold!

It's the next day and everyone except you, Tony, and Bucky were forced to go on an emergency mission. They didn't need you, Bucky, or Tony because it was relatively minor. Just a bombing downtown, nothing you guys haven't done before.

They should be coming back in about an hour.

You go downstairs to the living room and find Bucky sitting there. He looks up at you and smiles.

"Hey Y/N."

"Hey Buckaroo," You sit next to him and smile. "I feel like sparring and Nat's not here. Are you down?"

Are you sure you want to spar with me?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Is that a challenge Mr. Barnes," You ask in the worst posh accent you can muster.

"Of course it is Doll." He copies your accent with a laugh.

"Alright, meet me in the gym in 10." You get up and go to your room to change.

You immediately go to your closet. You grab a pair of leggings and a sports bra. You find a zip-up hoodie and put it on. You finally find your shoes and put them on.

You head down to the gym and see that Bucky isn't there yet. You stretch a bit before going on the treadmill. You put it up to the highest setting you can go before you start running. You hear the door open after a couple of minutes of running. You turn and see Bucky entering.

"Are you ready?" He asks while leaning against the door.

"Yeah, let me grab some water." You tell him.

He nods as you turn back to the treadmill to turn it off. You get off and go to the small fridge by Bucky. As soon as you open it, you feel yourself being lifted into the air.

Bucky was lifting you above his shoulder, starting his attack.

You sigh and wrap your legs around his neck. "I was going to get water!"

He grunts as you put all your weight on him, pushing him into a wall. "The enemy isn't going to let you take a time out and get some water."

You laugh and hit him with your elbow repeatedly on the head. "That should be a thing you know. Kind of like halftime at a sporting event or something."

Bucky grabs your back and you decide to use a move Natasha taught you. You tighten your legs around Bucky's neck before throwing yourself back, flipping Bucky under you. You pin his vibranium arm under both of you and tighten your hold on his neck again.

Bucky reaches up with his normal arm and grabs the back of your neck. He throws you across the room and you crash into some punching bags.

This is what you loved. Bucky never held back like the rest of the Avengers did when you sparred. He knew that you could take whatever punches he threw your way.

You get up and see him charging at you. You use your left leg to kick him. He goes to block your kick but you change legs quickly and kick the left side of his face. Bucky's face turns and you take the opportunity to sweep your legs under his.

He falls back and hits his head on the mat. You finally take a couple of breaths, knowing that the both of you were done after the intense sparring you guys had done.

You go to offer him your hand, knowing you won this match. He accepts your hand.

As soon as you pull to help him up, he pulls you down. He pins you down under him, holding both of your wrists above your head with his metal arm.

"I think I won," Bucky smirks at you.

"Really Barnes?" You ask.

"Yes, Doll," Bucky says confidently.

You lift your head to whisper into his ear. "Think again James."

You hook your right leg around his waist and flip over. You're now straddling Bucky's waist with a smirk and pinning his wrists by his head.

"You do know that I can easily overpower you, right Doll?" He asks.

"Of course I do, but you won't do that."

"Is that right?" He laughs.

You nod your head. "Mhm."

"I think you are mistaken." He flips the both of you over again. "I gave you an advantage and you still lost!"

You're able to get one of your arms free and punch his chest with a smile. "Shut up, Barnes."

You both look at each other with stupid grins on your faces. Bucky uses his normal hand to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

"Hey, Doll?"

"Yeah, Bucky?"

"You're beautiful," Bucky looks down at your lips.

You caress the left side of his face and your smile grows wider.

"You know, my secret boyfriend isn't going to like this."

"I think he'll be ok with it." Bucky leans down your lips barely touching.

You maintain eye contact with him. "And why is that?"

"Because he told me." You move your hand to the back of his head and push him down.

Your lips finally crash together, making the wait worth it. You put your leg around his waist and put your hand in his hair.

Bucky recently cut his hair, leaving it close to his head. It was just a little bit shorter than his hair in the 40s. He said he wanted to get rid of anything that reminded him of the Winter Soldier.

You pull back from the kiss but you both stay in the same position. "You stink Barnes."

He laughs. "Like you smell like daisies."

"I do!" You move your hand to pull up your shirt and smell it. You scrunch your nose. "Ok, maybe I smell like dead daisies."

Bucky lets out a small laugh before nodding his head. He leans back down and captures your lips with his.

The both of you were so distracted, you didn't hear the gym doors open.

"What the hell is this?" You and Bucky pull away and look at the door.

Tony is standing there with his arms crossed and his face scrunched up.

Tagged Readers: @ordelixx @bellabarnes1378 @sukaibg @angel-xx-1 @spookydestinydonut @harperkenobi @mcira @yeehawbrothers @waywardhunter95 @blackbirdwitch22

#avengers #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you

[finkinthisfrew]

Anything (Pt.15)

A Matty Healy Fanfic

Chapter 15

I was watching the clock anxiously at my studio as I tried to finish up my last piece before Matty arrived. He always showed up earlier than planned, which I loved him for, but I'd been running super behind today since we left my place late this morning. 

It was Friday, about a week and a half after we'd finally said I love you to each other on Matty's patio. Our last few days had been a precarious balancing act of working while also trying to jam-pack in as much time together as possible. Every moment one of us wasn't working, we spent at each other's side. 

About 10 minutes before we had planned on meeting, my phone lit up with a text message.

Just outside! - x

I hopped up from my workbench, hands coated in wet clay, and rushed down the hallway. I was wearing dirty white overalls that were caked in old layers of dry clay and glaze, with a plain black sports bra underneath to help combat the lack of air-conditioning in the studio. I had a bandana tied around my hair to keep it from getting too dirty, and a pair of beat-up Asics that were almost as dirty as my overalls. 

Using my butt to avoid getting clay on the push bar of the door, I opened the back door to the studio backwards. Matty gave me no time to react as he came up to me, pushing me gently against the door I'd swung open, and kissing me urgently. I kissed him back, melting into his touch, a feeling of relief sweeping through my body from our reunion. Forgetting about the wet clay, I held his face in my dirty hands as we kissed, and he only kissed me deeper at this, wrapping his arms around me tightly.

"I missed you," Matty said softly as we pulled apart a few minutes later, leaning his forehead against mine.

"I missed you too, babe," I said breathlessly, before opening my eyes and realizing I'd dirtied his face. "Oh no, Matty. I'm so sorry," I said, looking down at my hands, then up at his now clay-coated cheeks. I almost didn't feel bad- he looked so adorable.

"I don't mind," he smiled at me. "I love your little dirty hands," he said, interlacing his fingers with one of my hands and kissing the back of it, covering his lips in more clay. We smiled and laughed together at his now dirty lips as we turned to walk back into the studio together hand in hand.

As we stepped into the hot studio, Matty casually pulled off his crewneck and tossed it onto the studio couch like it was a second home, before walking over to the giant sink to rinse off his face. I loved seeing him so comfortable in my space- it made me feel more connected to him.

Underneath, he wore a black fitted ribbed tank top with a pair of dark blue slacks and Doc Marten dress shoes. I sat back down at my workbench, and as I watched him wash up, I admired his strong arms- his large biceps flexing as he brought his hands to his face. Then I noticed something on the top of his arm.

"Hey, what's that?" I asked, standing up. He looked at me, water dripping from his open mouth in question. I stepped over to him, tracing my hand around the transparent square sticker.

"Oh... umm, well... It's a nicotine patch," he said apprehensively.

"You're quitting?" I asked in shock.

"Well, I've been trying to," he answered, averting his eyes.

"For how long?" I demanded.

He finally looked up at me, eyes nervous. "Since that day on the patio... I didn't want to say anything because I was worried I wouldn't be able to stick with it. I didn't want to disappoint you if I gave up... but I've been doing really well so far- I've gotten it down to only one cigarette a day!"

I looked into his wide hopeful eyes that searched for my approval. "But... but why did you quit? You love smoking!" I asked in confusion.

He took my dirty hand once again, nervously fiddling with the bits of clay that had dried.

"I didn't want to be a hypocrite..." he said, and that's when it hit me. He continued, "It's not fair for me to tell you not to smoke when I do it every day. So I quit." he said, his eyes earnest.

"You... you quit... for me?" I pieced together, perplexed. 

Then he smiled at me, shaking his head, "You still don't believe it, do you? When I say I'd do anything for you, I really mean it. You're worth much more to me than some filthy habit like smoking." 

I was so touched. I froze in place, taking in his words, my face breaking into a sad smile. I couldn't believe he would do that for me... and yet, of course, he would. He was my Matty, after all.

He kissed my cheek lightly before guiding me back to my workbench. "So what have you been working on today? Is this the new piece you were telling me about?" he asked as he analyzed the abstract shape on the table.

I quickly gathered myself, my stomach still fluttering from what he said before. "Yes! This is it. It's not even close to being done, so keep that in mind... But I still have to work on it a bit more today before we leave, I hope that's okay."

He put his arm around me, giving me a squeeze as he kissed my temple. "Of course it's okay. I think it's brilliant. Take your time, darling." He said before walking over to the couch, once again making himself at home, and picking up the acoustic guitar that he'd brought last week to busy himself with whenever he came to visit.

For the next half hour, I worked on my piece as Matty played his guitar, strumming soothing patterns and humming various melodies over them. Occasionally a line or two would slip out, and I'd turn to smile at him because I knew he was singing them to me.

As I moved my piece over to the drying rack, Matty stopped strumming. "I started writing a song about you today," he said suddenly. 

I looked over at him, dumbfounded. His body language was bashful, but his eyes were lit up with intensity. 

"Me?" I asked timidly.

Matty nodded with a smile, patting the cushion next to him on the couch invitingly.

I walked over and sat down. He placed a swift kiss on my cheek before turning back to his guitar. Began to strum a little progression, and then he started to sing:

(if anyone's interested in how the song actually sounds, I posted a recording here! ^)

"I've been waiting for too long for you to come home

In my arms, in my embrace, 

I save the taste no toothpaste can erase.

Is this love? Is this real? 

'cause I cannot explain just how it feels

To be so understood, to be loved the way you deserve.

In this meta world, where nothing's real and neither am I,

There's a broken girl, 

She means the world to me

She's my prophet and my prophecy

And I'll follow her to the end of the earth

If that's what she wants

'cause for her I'd do anything

I'd do anything

Anything at all

Anything at all."

My stomach fluttered from a million butterflies. I felt my face flush with heat. Tears welled, and I fought them back as I tried to put into words how I felt. I was too flattered, too speechless to say anything. He looked up at me from his guitar expectantly, waiting for me to say something. I wiggled myself up close to him and put my arms around his torso, nuzzling my head into the crook of his neck.

"Matty..."  I whispered.

"Yes, darling?" He replied softly.

"That was so beautiful..." I said. I sat there quietly, soaking in the feeling of his song. "No one's ever written a song about me before... Or said something so beautiful about me... I... I don't know what to say..." I said quietly as a single tear escaped. 

He put his guitar on the couch next to him and turned to pull me gently into his arms. I lay my head against his chest as he ran his fingers through my hair.

"Well, you better get used to it," he said softly, "because I have a million more to write about you."

"Matty..." I said wistfully. "You make me feel so special."

"Good," he said. I could hear the smile in his voice. "I'm glad you're beginning to feel what you truly are. It's about time, too," he said, lightly bouncing me in his lap for emphasis.

I smiled into his chest, breathing in his warm spicy scent. As I exhaled I felt his love spread through my whole body, right to the ends of my fingertips, relaxing me into a less overwhelmed state.

"Has anyone else heard it?" I asked curiously.

"Just the boys- I was showing them at the studio today actually," he said, matter-of-factly.

"Do you think they'll like me?" I asked nervously. Tonight was the night of the big tour sendoff party that George had invited me to last week. I'd been feeling anxious about it ever since, and today was no different.

"I'm more concerned with whether you'll like them or not honestly- I could care less what they think," he said huffily, looking very stubborn.

I sat upright, giving him a stern look before he backpedalled.

"Well, okay fine, that's not really true... but I honestly can't see any of you not liking each other. They're all proper good blokes, you'll love them. George already adores you, which is a bit annoying, but fair to him... and Ross and Hann have been buzzing to meet you." 

My nerves settled slightly at this, and I glanced over at the clock on the wall. We still needed to go back to my place so I could change before heading over to the party, but I wasn't ready to leave yet. I knew Matty wasn't either.

"Will you play it for me again? Please?" I asked with a small smile.

Matty smiled at me warmly. He brushed his lips against mine lightly, sending tingles down my spine before saying, "A thousand times, if you'd like," then kissed me fully, whisking me away into a spiral of love and happiness.

#fanfic #lovers #fanfiction #matty healy #at their very best #matty the 1975 #the 1975 #love #bfiafl #tender #matty 1975 #matty #soulmates #romantic #relationship #romance #boyfriend #Youtube

[emeraldcitynerdfighter]

It wasn't the great summer romance either saw in those cheesy teen rom-com movies. Both had jobs to return to in their respective hometowns, so their relationship lived off hours-long phone calls and the occasional exchanging of care packages.

What surprised her the most was how good of a friend Carson was. When Carson wasn't rambling about the Olympic softball games taking place, she was always curious about how her summer was going, if she was going on any trips with her family (no, they usually just stick around home lately), if she had registered for classes next year (yes, she still had credits to make up that didn't transfer); if she got her room assignment yet (yes, in the same building as Carson, three floors up).

They talked about how they were keeping up their conditioning over the summer--lots of hikes and long runs along the winding mountain roads for Carson; a few hours a week at the batting cages and swimming laps at the local Y for Greta.

It was a relief, in some way, to have an excuse to not get closer, to keep things light and flirty and, on occasion, a little scandalous -- mostly in the form of sending cellphone-quality photos via text message. Greta, admittedly, almost fell out of her chair when she got a photo of Carson, post-run, in just her sports bra and shorts, cap backwards, a ring of sweat glistening along her hairline…

Oh, no…Was Carson Shaw actually…hot?

Best not to dwell on that too much.

It's just another fling.

But as July rolled into August, an ache formed in her stomach. A dread. An anxiety.

They would see each other again. And then what.

Then what.

Would Carson surprise her with flowers and a teddy bear and a sweeping kiss the moment they reunite? Would she act aloof and distant as they danced around each other in a tension-filled dance of will-they-won't-they-did-they-ever?

It didn't matter.

She would have fun. She was determined. If she had to come back here, be ripped away from New York, she was going to have fun. Relish in the thrill of a secret-ish team romance. It was only a college fling.

Carson was fun.

They would have fun.

And nothing else.

It would be for the best anyway.

//

Things seem too good to be true.

Lemme know what you think of chapter 3, Fruits!

#a league of their own #aloto #gretson #a league of their own fic #aloto fic #my writing

[lynnarang]

Couples' Workout

Angel who always loves watching her demon lover work out, staring at their muscles as they bench several times their own weight, watching their body glisten with sweat…

"You know if you're going to watch me the whole time you might as well join me."

"N-No I just like to watch-"

"Yeah? But what good are these muscles-"

Before the angel could realize what was going on, she was being hoisted into her girlfriend's arms.

"If I can't use them to carry a pretty girl?"

"A-Ah?! Wha-what? W-Why are- How-"

Ignoring the flustered bottom noises, the demon took off into a jog, effortlessly carrying their partner even as her wings flapped adorably.

"Normally I would just carry some weights for this part, but isn't this way better?"

It took half a mile before the angel had calmed down enough to truly appreciate both the strong arms carrying her and the close-up she now had of her love.

"You're just showing off…"

"And you love every moment of it babe."

Instead of admitting her demon was right, the angel buried her face into their sports bra.

"H-Hey babe, it's a little hard to run if you're going to shove your face there."

"Shut up."

"Do you want me to put you down?"

"Don't you dare."

"Thought so~"

Miles later and the demon was finally starting to run out of breath… a mile away from their home. Panting, they placed their lover back on her feet.

"Okay, we can walk from h-- B-Babe? What are you doing?"

The demon yelped as she was hoisted airborne.

"Payback!"

The angel had taken the moment of weakness to sweep her lover of their feet, her powerful wings launching them airborne. The demon was left with no choice but to cling tight to their angel, lest they plummet to the ground.

"You know this isn't the same thing!"

"You looked so tuckered out, I thought I'd carry you home~"

"..You're lucky you're so cute…"

The demon grumbled before shutting up, looking away to hide the blush forming on their face. The two of them were perfect for each other, in more ways than one.

#empty spaces #microfiction #writing #my ocs #arang schütze #sephina fairheart #repost from twitter

[anonprotagging]

idk if this is smt you already know but a tip I heard regarding what to do with your chest when binding is to push down on them, like try to gather all the fat from under your arms and whatnot and push it downwards against the binder, not upwards . I think it helps avoid damage although I can't remember if it also helps it look more natural? the not being able to bind comfortably thing sounds like it rly sucks though :(

yeah, I've seen tips for all kinds of different bound-chest distribution though, and none of them seem to do anything except look weird -- pushing down, up, not moving anything around, etc. because a lot of tips are for people who could probably already bind with a good enough sports bra :(

I deleted that reblog because OP was in the comments saying they wished the post hadn't blown up since it was from 2018 and badly written and they'd made a blog trying to find a safer way to bind for all sizes since then

(like, it was irking me the way they were like "trans guys accept pain because they're told binding should hurt" as if having a chest larger than a C doesn't inherently hurt no matter what you do. just standing up long enough to do the dishes or sweep a single room, whether supported or not, has a 30% chance of making my back hurt so bad I have to lie down after.) but yeah, it sucks a lot fksjhfkjsdf 😭😭😭

#like I KNOW corsets are actually very supportive for a wide variety of body types and historical drama actors who complain #about them are just being very badly fitted into them. but like. man I'm not an actor on a movie with a $1.2 billion budget #I'm one guy who's just gotten his first decent paying job ever #and I could probably afford a decent corset but it still doesn't address the fact that I live in a desert that's become as humid as #florida/the literal tropics recently #none of which is anyone's fault but it makes me really sad and cranky because I keep getting 'ma'am'-ed at work (by adults) #I feel like mike from that one post. mike who got top surgery for his f cups. I want to be like that mike. :(

[farfromsugafanfic]

Dangerous | Chapter Five: Maraschino

Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Bad Boy!Jimin, Bartender!Reader College AU

Pairing: Jimin/Named Reader

Rating: M | Minors DNI

Chapter Warnings: use of derogatory language toward women, alcohol consumption

A/N: I've discontinued using the graphic dividers because I'm lazy and it's been a while since I posted and I don't want to have to hunt for it. Therefore, the original dividers will be used.

Pabo: Don't forget about Mochi's vet appointment.

Pabo: Check your door before you leave 😘

[][][]

You had almost forgotten about Jackson's vet appointment that you had scheduled a week before. You'd told Jimin he could come since the kitten was half his, but your stomach churned. Other than class and dance practice, you didn't really associate with Jimin on campus, and if your ex or the wrong person were to see, it could mess up your plan for revenge or cause problems like the night before.

Slut.

You're ex's words still echoed in your head. You knew it shouldn't matter what he thought of you or what he called you, but it still hurt. It shouldn't matter that you enjoyed sex, casual sex, even, or that you enjoyed the attention you got when you wore a short dress or a tight skirt. It was easy not to think about when you got what you wanted, but as soon as someone you used to care about so much looked down on you for those things and called a name you usually embraced, it hurt.

You left for class in yoga pants, a sports bra, and a jacket thrown over the top. You shut your door and turned around to lock it, noticing two Ziploc bags taped to the door and a sticky note stuck between them.

You smiled, remembering Jimin's text. You peeled the sticky note off the door:

A treat for Mochi and a treat for Mommy

He'd drawn a small heart and smiley face after the note and indicated which bag was for you and which was for the kitten. However, looking at them it was obvious which was yours. One bag was full of cat treats and the other full of hard candies. You took one of the red candies and popped into your mouth. Cherry.

[][][]

You entered the classroom and noticed it mostly empty except for a few students huddled in a group in the back and Jimin setting up mats around the studio. He looked up as soon as he heard the door. He smiled but was sure not to linger too long.

You quickly stuck out your red stained tongue causing him to smile. You could tell he held back laughter as he ran his hand through his hair, his smile only growing wider.

"What're the mats for?" you asked.

"You'll have to wait and see," he said, cocking an eyebrow.

You rolled your eyes and noticed as the rest of the class began filing in. You took your spot in the class, despite not being assigned a place to stand, everyone always fell into the same places. The instructor came in a few minutes later.

"Hello class," she said. "Today we're going to be doing something a bit different. For some of you, this will be familiar, but for others, this may take you out of your comfort zone. Regardless, part of being successful in the dance world is trusting in your team and your partners. So, today we are going to do some trust exercises, so partner up."

You looked around as everyone in the class grabbed onto a partner. You looked towards the girl next to you who had asked about Jimin--Eun-ha--but she had already paired with the girl on her other side.

"Now, there's an odd number, so one of you is probably without a partner," the instructor said, her eyes sweeping through the pairs before landing on you. "Ah, Inna." She waved her hand over at Jimin. "Jimin will be your partner."

Jimin walked over to you. He held a smug look on his face and he looped his arm through yours, brushing his fingertips over the skin of yours lightly.

"All right, the first exercise is an easy one, the trust fall," the instructor said. "Take turns falling backward and catching each other."

You turned to Jimin. "All right, fall," you said.

He laughed and turned around. "Are you sure you can catch me?"

"Shut up and just do it," you said. "Let's just get it over with."

You held your arms out and Jimin fell towards you. You caught him with your arms locking through his armpits and his head falling against your collarbone. You were used to these kinds of trust exercises from your ballet days. They were standard in the beginner's classes and often when working on a show when tensions are high, you'd all run through them again.

You helped push Jimin back to his feet. He turned to face you, a large grin taking up the majority of his face. "You trust me, babe?"

"To do a trust fall? Sure. Otherwise? Not an ounce."

"Ah, come on, I didn't beat up your ex last night for nothing."

Your entire body stiffened and you stood frozen. Did he really hurt Chul-soo? Your eyes looked down at his knuckles which didn't look terribly bruised. You hated your ex. You wouldn't care if he disappeared and you never had to see him again, but the thought of Jimin beating him up brought back the memories from high school of Jimin's black eye and bruised ribs and that Chul-soo didn't come to school for a few days he and Jimin fought back then.

"Okay, the second partner should be going by now," the instructor said.

You shook away the thoughts and Jimin's concerned glances and turned around. You held your arms up and began to tip back on your ankles, feeling your toes leave the floor and slowly, ever so slowly, you began to fall. Your eyes closed and you felt as Jimin's arms came under your own and catch you.

Your head rested against his shoulder and you felt his breath against your scalp. He slowly helped you back to your feet, but his hands lingered on arms and his lips brushed against the top of your ear.

"See? You can trust me." His voice was raspy and rough, but so hushed you could barely make out the words.

You scoffed and pushed him away. Yet, you felt a small pull in your stomach that maybe, just maybe, his words were true.

[][][]

"Hey beautiful," Jimin said, leaning against his motorcycle and holding his spare helmet in his right hand. "I should write your name on this." He held the helmet up to you and you took it and strapped it on. "You're the only one who wears it."

You rolled your eyes as Jimin climbed onto the motorcycle and started it. You got on behind him and wrapped your arms around his middle. Once you were secure, he kicked up the kickstand and drove towards your apartment.

You weren't sure what it was about a motorcycle that made you feel so free. You could rest your head between his shoulder blades and feel like you were the only two people in the world. The wind that swirled around you isolating you from the rest of the world.

It only took a few minutes to reach your apartment. Jimin followed you up and waited for you to unlock the door. Jackson was curled up on the couch asleep, but as soon as you opened the door, his head popped up and he meowed in greeting.

"Hey buddy," Jimin said, immediately throwing himself down on your couch and touch his noses with the kitten.

"I'm going to go change. I'll be just a second."

He hardly acknowledged you as you walked back to your bedroom and changed into a different pair of leggings and a sweatshirt. You placed a few treats in the pocket to reward Jackson after the vet and to make sure he stayed in your pocket on the way there.

You walked back toward the living room and heard Jimin talking to the kitten softly. "You're taking care of her, right, Mochi? I can't be here all the time, so I need you to make sure she's all right." You felt your chest tighten and walked into the living room.

"Hey," you said. "I'm ready."

He nodded and picked up Jackson, the kitten slumping happily over his palm. He handed the kitten to you and you placed him in your sweatshirt pocket where he curled up against your stomach. You kept one of your hands inside the pocket and allowed the kitten to chew lightly on your fingers.

You walked back down to Jimin's motorcycle and climbed on, this time careful not to crush the kitten, but also ensuring that the kitten couldn't climb out during the ride.

"I think I'm gonna keep my hand in so that he can't fall out," you said.

"No," Jimin said. "I don't want to risk you getting hurt. Just make sure you stay close to me and he should be all right."

"Jimin, I'll be fine. It's not a long ride--"

"Just be careful. I really shouldn't ride with you on this thing."

You rolled your eyes and secured one of your arms around his waist while you kept the other one in your sweatshirt pocket.

Jimin took off slower this time and you noticed he braked sooner and slower. Jackson stayed in your pocket, nearly asleep between yours and Jimin's bodies.

[][][]

"He appears to be fairly healthy for a stray," the vet said, her hands ran over the kitten's body and peered at his teeth. "He does look a little malnourished, but it's likely he was abandoned or orphaned. It's nothing a little love can't fix."

Jackson--unlike any other pet you'd before--didn't seem to mind to mind the vet's poking and prodding. He only mewed a little during his vaccinations and even purred as the vet did her examination.

"Looks like this little guy was lucky you two found him when you did," she said. "We'll keep him here for a couple of days to monitor him and prep to neuter him." You nodded, swallowing back your worries. "You can come pick him up in a few days. We'll make sure he's perfectly comfortable."

You nodded and gave Jackson a few goodbye pets and the treats he hadn't already eaten. He nudged the back of your hand and you felt it hard to pull away from the kitten.

You were startled out of your thoughts as you felt Jimin's hand on the small of your back. He gave you a sympathetic look before petting Jackson.

"We should get going," he said. "We still have to practice tonight."

You nodded and left the little kitten with the vet. You clung to Jimin a little tighter as he drove back to the university.

[][][]

You approached the final dance studio, although felt your heart sink as you heard music. All of the studios were being used.

"It's full," you said, walking back down the hall to Jimin. You shrugged your shoulders, your lips pouting out slightly.

Jimin sighed and reached into his pocket. You heard the rustling of keys and watched as he flipped through his keys until he came to a small silver one. "Come on," he said.

You followed him down the other side of the hallway and to an older part of the building. The building with all the studios had recently been remodeled and so there were a few abandoned dance studios in the basement of the building, but they were normally locked.

"Since I'm the T.A., I have access to the old studios," he said. "Since I'm required to always be available."

He unlocked the door to one of the studios and held the door open as you walked in. He followed you in and turned on the lights. The studio smelled a little dusty but was still in good condition, other than a few dents in the floor.

You headed to the corner of the room to plug in your phone.

"Wait," Jimin said. "I wanna do something different today."

He took hold of your wrists and led you to the center of the room. He sat down and you did the same. He pulled out a bottle of alcohol from behind him and two shot glasses.

"Where?! Jimin, have you had those the whole time?"

"It doesn't matter," he said. "What matters, is that for me to be able to help you, we're going to have to work through some things. You can still go on with your little revenge plots, I don't care, but you need to trust me enough for this."

"So, what's the alcohol for?"

"Answer or drink," he said.

"Jimin, you still have to drive…"

"I don't have a reason to go home tonight. Do you?"

Without Mochi at your apartment, there was no reason for you to go home. Your outfit was appropriate for the next day's dance class and it wasn't like you hadn't stayed out all night before classes before.

You shook your head and Jimin proceeded to pour you both a glass. The alcohol he'd chosen was a cinnamon flavored whiskey you were surprised he'd like at all. The orange liquid settled in the shot glass and you were surprised as Jimin took a shot immediately. He poured himself another shot and set the bottle back down with a soft thud.

"All right, who should go first?"

"I will," you said. "Are you attracted to me?"

"Yes," Jimin said, his voice cutting through the air. "Don't waste all your questions like that."

"Why do you let me see Mochi?" he asked.

"What do you mean, Jimin? We found him together. It's only right."

"But, you hate me?"

You sighed, downing you shot and refilling it. "That was two questions."

"Why are you so nice to me?" you asked.

Jimin's eyes softened for a moment before he took the shot glass and tipped it back.

"Why do you still care about what happened?" Jimin asked.

"You were my first boyfriend, Jimin. I don't know, I was deluded and naive and you took advantage of that. Why--why did you do it in the first place?"

Jimin sat still for a moment, his eyes stuck on your face. "I don't know," he said. His voice cracked and barely there.

"That's not an answer, Jimin."

"I know, but I really don't know why I did that."

"Just drink."

He obliged and took a shot. While you knew Jimin had a fairly high alcohol tolerance, you could see the flush beginning in his cheeks.

"What happened between you and Chul-soo?"

You immediately took the shot. There was no way you were going to explain everything between you and Chul-soo. The cheating, the toxicity, the jealousy that turned to resentment. You'd dated Chul-soo for years, and yet, you were happiest without him.

"I tried to look for you, you know? That night after you ran off, I looked for you for hours," Jimin said, his flush getting worse. "Where did you go?"

"Jimin, I--"

"Just drink," he said.

You did, this time the whiskey didn't go down as smoothly, the burn in the back of your throat becoming scalding. You felt your own neck and cheeks heating up. You hardly ever got flushed, but this time, you weren't sure if it was from the alcohol, or from the game.

"Why are you doing this? Surely, you had girlfriends after me," you said. "Why do you care about me so much?"

Jimin didn't answer, but rather, scooted closer to you. He took a shot, keeping eye contact with you. He threw the shot glass aside before his hands were cupping your cheeks.

"Jimin?"

"Can I kiss you?"

Your eyes widened at the question, but before you could even think about answering, your lips had already done it for you. "Yes."

His lips landed on yours for the first time since the night you first spotted him the club. He tasted like cinnamon and alcohol, you were sure you tasted the same. Within a minute, your back was on the floor and Jimin's hips were pressed against your own. His hands were balanced firmly on the floor on either side of your head.

He pulled away, his eyes tired and his lips swollen. Jimin brought one of his hands to his hair and pushed it back, before bringing back down and wiping his thumb over your lips.

"You should go home," he said.

"Jimin, I thought we were just going to stay here all night?"

"I changed my mind. Come on."

"No, Jimin, you're not driving. Let's just walk back to my place. You can crash on the couch."

[][][]

When you woke up the next morning, Jimin was gone. This time there was no note left or any evidence he'd even been there, other than the crumpled up blanket on the couch. All he left was the slight swelling of your lips and a small ache in your chest that you wished would go away.

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#jimin bts #bts #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts fan fiction #bts fan fic #jimin fanfic #jimin x oc #jimin x reader #jimin smut #jimin fluff #jimin angst #jimin fan fiction #park jimin #park jimin fan fiction #bangtan fanfic #originally posted on wattpad #farfromsuga #kpop fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts smut #bts fluff #bts college au