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nevertheless-moving · 2 days

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I wrote it. They ask.

"So you're essentially an expert on honor, right?"

Kaladin blinked at Shallan, unsure what to make of the question. The three of them had finished eating, and had moved to a smaller, shared table for drinks, secluded from the rest of the building by a hazy curtain. The conversation had been drifting lazily from the city's latest scandals to squire hijinks.

"What?" Kaladin finally said, slightly confused at the abrupt change of topic.

"Of course you are, you're the first person chosen by an honorspren in thousands of years!" Adolin said enthusiastically.

"I mean—"

"And you always figure out the right thing to do!" Shallan said.

"That's definitely not—"

Adolin nodded. "Never murder anyone in cold blood, even when they deserve it."

Kaladin sighed heavily. "Where are you two going with this?"

Shallan coughed into her freehand. "Well, you see, we've been having a little debate about...honor."

"And we were hoping you could settle it. Impartially," Adolin said, tone serious.

Kaladin squinted at him. There was something off about his expression. "Can't you ask Syl?"

Syl was meeting with some of the honorspren with newer bonds tonight; she had insisted that she could handle it on her own, and that he should take the night off, but he was sure she would be happy to switch places to come by and give her opinion on other people's business; that was practically a hobby for her. He wasn't sure sure where pattern was, come to think of it; he hadn't heard him buzz in a while.

"Actually we did!" Shallan said brightly.

"She was our first choice, no offense," Adolin said. "I don't think she entirely understood the dilemma."

"It's a bit too, well, human." Shallan took a large sip of her wine, emptying the glass, but didn't waive over a server for more.

Kaladin felt dread start to coil low in his stomach, the fragile relaxation of the evening starting to slip away. "...I'm going to regret hearing about this, aren't I?"

Adolin leaned towards him, turning wide, pleading eyes his direction. "Please, Kaladin?"

Shallan matched him. Stormfather. Not so long ago ago, lighteyes looking at him like that would have filled him with derision at most. What had happened to him.

"Fine." Kaladin leaned back in his seat, giving in. He was a little curious, even though he knew he wasn't going to be happy with whatever he was about to hear. "What is it?"

Shallan straightened, as if to give a presentation before the Queen. Storms, I have a really bad feeling about this.

"Well, as you know, I'm a lightweaver, and can change mine or someone else's appearance, such that they exactly resemble another. I can also create an illusion, so that it appears that an individual is present, when in fact, they are not."

"...Yes?" Was Shallan nervous? Adolin didn't kill another highprince, did he?

"Now, obviously, practicing lightweaving by pretending to be someone else, when done entirely in private, I mean just me, myself, and I, practicing my radiant abilities, can't possibly be dishonorable."

"I guess?"

Adolin leaned forward now, one hand gesturing sharply. "But what if I'm there? I mean, no ones suggesting that it would be acceptable for Shallan to assume a specific private individual's form in public."

"Unless it's to save lives," Shallan said.

Adolin nodded. "Unless of course it's to save lives."

"Or as part of my crown assigned radiant duties."

"Or that, can't forget to mention that."

"Or with said individual's consent."

"Naturally, consent makes all the difference."

"Quite a few shades of grey."

"Truly, once you think about it. Infinite nuance."

Kaladin pinched the bridge of his nose, scowling to keep from laughing. "Did you rehearse this?"

Shallan waved her hand in his face, forestalling any other objections. "In any case! Would we be disrespecting an individual, let's call this person 'Lin' for short, would we be behaving dishonorably towards Lin, were I to assume Lin's form, or have Adolin assume Lin's form, or have Lin appear while both of us are present, soley within the privacy of our chambers?"

Kaladin waited a few seconds for Adolin to chime in, but he just continued staring intently at Kaladin.

"...This is about Lyn?"

"No, not Lyn, Lin," Shallan corrected primly. He could just barely make out a difference. "Neutral born unto. Just, we don't want to say her — say their name specifically, but I thought saying 'the individual' would get unwieldy."

Ok, probably not about Lyn. Unless they're using a confusing fake name to make me think that. Wait, I thought Veil was the one who was attracted to women. Oh. Right. He started to feel a throbbing at the base of his skull.

"Is there some specific reason you want to look like... Lin?" He dropped his voice slightly, rubbing his temples. "Is it for a practical reason? Or do you want to make fun of her — them?"

"Definitely not to make fun of them!" Adolin said, voice dropping to match Kaladin's.

"Many people would consider it flattering," Shallan whispered. "For their form to be assumed in this specific context!"

"We're just not certain if Lin would think that, and we're worried that it would be worse to ask."

"So we decided to ask you instead, since again, you're —"

Kaladin waved a hand at her before they could jump into another bizarre routine. "Honorable, yes, whatever, fine. I get it."

Adolin put a hand on his arm, expression earnest. "Look. If you think we should just directly talk to Lin then we'll do it. We just...don't want to embarrass them, or hurt their feelings in someway. We genuinely aren't sure how they would react, and I mean. You don't have to ask someone's permission for thinking about them, but this is a step up from that, and it's not like there's many people who have had the option, so...hence the uncertainty, and asking for a neutral, completely unconnected, third party opinion."

"Alright, I...guess that makes sense? In an extremely weird way." Kaladin looked between the two of them. Shallan's expression was open and honest, but unfortunately that didn't mean much. Adolin was earnest, but there was something weird about his posture. Guilty? Excited? "But why do you want to see a lightweaving of Lin in private so much?"

Shallan pretended to take a sip out of her empty glass. "I assume you can guess, bridgeboy. Is it really necessary for us to say it aloud?" She had just a hint of red staining the tops of ears, but she colored easily. It could just be the alcohol.

"I really don't know," Kaladin said, baffled. "Is this a lighteyes thing? Like you want to, I don't know...model fashion on them?"

"Ooh." Adolin suddenly looked far too eager. "That's actually not what we were thinking."

"I didn't think it was a lighteyes thing," Shallan said. "But I suppose it could be. I don't have a significant enough sample size to presume." That was clearly a joke there that Kaladin didn't get.

Adolin cleared his throat. "Well." He made another sharp motion with his hands, letting Kaladin go. "As you know, Shallan and I are married."

"Yes, I was at your wedding," Kaladin said dryly.

"We are married," Adolin repeated, talking over him. "And that comes with certain... duties and privileges."

"Among which—" Shallan was definitely blushing now. "—and I suppose this could be considered an, ah, 'lighteyes thing,' is well. The need to create an heir."

They can't possibly be asking me this. Kaladin looked desperately to Adolin, but the man just gave him a sheepish, apologetic grin.

A small part of Kaladin curled up and died.

Blood Of My Fathers.

"No," Kaladin said. "Absolutely not. You are not asking me about something to do with your sex lives."

"You see," Adolin said. "I know you've said you don't have interest in, well, any of that. But for many the process of creating an heir is not just—"

"ARGH." Kaladin threw his arms up, crossing them over his head.

"— a responsibility but a pleasure which—"

"Almighty's Tenth name!"

"—can be performed creatively—"

Kaladin pressed his head to the table, burying himself in his arms to hide his too warm face and probably disgusted expression.

"Stop. Please. Stop." He knew he was whining in a way ill befitting a Windrunner of his Ideal, but the booth they were in was private, and Adolin and Shallan had seen him in far less dignified circumstances.

"Sorry," Adolin said, patting him on the shoulder. "Just wanted to make sure you understood."

"Well I don't!" Kaladin said, looking up but not lifting his chin from his arms. "And I don't storming want to! Why can't you just look like yourselves! I thought you liked how each other looked! I've literally caught you drooling!"

Adolin frowned. "I don't drool, bridgeboy."

Shallan's face was nearly as red as his face felt, but her expression was significantly more gleeful. "I…there may have been one sparring session I observed…that may have generated a small amount of moisture."

Adolin cocked an eyebrow, and smirked. "Moisture, huh?"

"I hate you two," Kaladin lied emphatically.

"Sorry, Sorry." Adolin patted him on the shoulder again. "So? What do you think?"

"I think Rlain is right and its a storming miracle humans have managed to accomplish anything when most of us are permanently stuck in mateform."

Adolin heaved a dramatic sigh. "About our question, Kal, come on. We know you don't like talking about this stuff but that's exactly why we needed your opinion! You're unbiased!"

"And honorable, yes you said. Have I mentioned before that the rewards for being honorable blow?"

They turned twin pleading expressions toward him and he caved immediately. Storms, he had gotten weak. "Battar and Shallash, fine," he snapped. "Fine, give me a minute, alright. Just stop talking. "

The two waited, Shallan only opening her mouth to make a joke twice, Adolin successfully nudgeing her quiet each time; Kaladin lifted himself up, elbows on the table and head in his hands as he looked down, forcing himself to actually give it serious consideration.

"Alright," he finally said. "I get that people can't always help what they...think about it. That's fine. And I also know that trying not to think about something sometimes makes people think about it more, so."

Adolin and Shallan nodded. "You have no idea," Adolin said. "Seriously, I love Shallan, I've absolutely tried not looking at other women's — anyway. It's so much easier to just forgive eachother the occasional wayward glance or errant thought." They squeezed each others hands.

Kaladin sighed. "Right. Sorry if I came off as judgemental."

"No, no, you've made it very clear that you don't like talking about such things, it's completely reasonable to be unhappy. We are sorry for the times we...overshare in front of you."

"It's fine," Kaladin said curtly. "Really. I know you try. Anyway. I also understand that people sometimes, er, fantasize. That way. About things or people they don't actually want in real life. And. Uh. Sometimes people... act that out."

Kaladin stared determinedly at the table, face hot. There was a swirling pattern in the marble that he hadn't noticed before.

"You do?" Adolin said, sounding surprised.

Kaladin coughed. The swirling pattern kind of looked like a river, viewed from above. "There. Might have been an incident, early on in the army, when I heard a couple and, er, overreacted slightly. They took the time to explain things in... painful detail. It's fine. None of my business."

"That's. Very open minded of you," Shallan said, sounding slightly strangled. "Tell me, when the couple was explaining things — oof." Kaladin didn't look, but he was fairly sure Adolin just stepped on her foot, something he was infinitely grateful for. It had been an extremely mortifying lesson. The pair had said they weren't mad about being interrupted, but he was fairly sure they were lying, considering how much detail they went into in their explanation.

"Honestly, the whole...dressing weird, or calling eachother names or using ropes or whatever—"

Adolin made a choking noise. Kaladin kept looking at the little river pattern in the table. If he squinted there were mountains and farms too.

"—all that stuff isn't more or less...unappealing. To think about. Then just regular sex." Kaladin paused. "That is not permission to talk about that sort of thing with me. Please don't share anything about your sex life with me, ok?"

"Of course!"

"We know."

"So," Kaladin continued, rubbing his cheeks to try and get rid of the blush. "Wanting someone isn't breaking your vows. Neither is thinking about them. Probably talking about them is fine too."

He ran his finger along the small river in the polished stone. He could practically feel two sets of light eyes drilling a hole in him.

"My concern, of course, would be for Lin. If playing around with their image would affect the real person. My main concern is it will impact the way you two interact with them."

"If we thought it did then we'd stop immediately," Adolin swore without prompting. "The real person matters far more than our...baser feelings."

"Absolutely," Shallan agreed softly. "We truly don't want to hurt them. That's why we've been struggling with this."

"I believe you," Kaladin said, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Alright, so you've already been...thinking about them, while together, and it hasn't impacted your interactions with the real person."

"No!"

"Trying not to think of them that way was worse," Adolin said ruefully. "I am...fairly sure they have not noticed any feelings on my part, and even if they had they've ignored them very politely so...like I said, if messing with lightweaveing changes that, we'll stop right away, but I don't think it will. We know who they are."

Kaladin studied the marble some more. He was pretty sure he had flown over somewhere in Alethkar that looked a bit like that riverbend, but he couldn't remember where.

"You cannot do this anywhere someone could possibly see or overhear," Kaladin said, looking up to make brief, serious eye contact with each of them. "Not visiting another city. Not where guards or servants could overhear, even trusted ones. Not in the duelist preparation chamber — yes I know about that. Not while exploring the less used parts of the city — yes, I heard about that too. Not in your sitting room or against the door, where someone passing by could overhear. Just in your own bedchamber, door locked."

"That sounds reasonable," Shallan said, flushing but solemn.

"Very reasonable," Adolin agreed, nodding sharply.

Kaladin grimaced, looking back down at the table. "I think...while part of me says you should ask Lin directly...that also sounds somewhat humiliating for everyone involved. I mean, again, it's more similar to thinking about someone than anyone else, and even if they were, er, flattered... It's not like you would actually be able to sleep together anyway, with your marriage oaths, so it would be a moot point."

"...Right," Adolin said unconvincingly. Kaladin decided not to think about that.

"So... it's alright?" Shallan said hopefully. "With those conditions? Not dishonorable?"

Kaladin forced himself to look up again, and immediately regretted it. They both looked far too eager.

"Not dishonorable," he sighed, closing his eyes and leaning back.

"Thank you!" Adolin said, with way too much passion.

"Thank me by never speaking to me of this again, and never asking me anything like this for the rest of our lives."

"Yes to the first one, no promises to the second," Shallan said gleefully. "Well. Now that we've discussed that matter, how about we get back to talking about—"

"Leave. For the love of all that is good, please leave," Kaladin begged, not opening his eyes. Shallan took advantage of this by kissing him lightly on the cheek. Adolin hugged him from the other side.

There was the sound of spheres tossed on the table and rapid movements, and then they were gone.

Kaladin opened his eyes, shaking his head. One of them had knocked over a glass in their haste to leave. They had, of course, left a small fortune to pay the bill.

He left the winehouse feeling...bemused mostly. Maybe he'd go find Rlain and they could gripe about humans and mateforms together. He would probably not make eye contact for Lyn for the next week, even though he was fairly sure they were talking about Isnah or Beryl. Best not to guess. He kicked off from the ground, the rush of wind immediately clearing away discomforting thoughts or lingering stress of the day.

He smiled, speeding up and feeling his heart race with the exhilaration that only the sky could bring, with no pressing meetings or appointments to get to. Syl had been right. It was good to take a night off every now and again.

#stormlight archive #cosmere #stormlight fanfic #kaladin stormblessed #shockingly sweet and wholesome considering the premise #asexual/sex repulsed Kaladin Stormblessed #Prude kaladin Stormblessed #shadolin #unrequited feelings #nevertheless writing #oathbringer spoilers #nevertheless cosmere #deliberately vague time period but maybe probably post book 5.#Shallan and Adolin are such trash. I love them.#if anyone feels like betaing this for ao3 posting send me a message

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thesherrinfordfacility · 20 hours

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edit 16/04: pouring one out for the bullet theory, you were fun whilst you lasted babes x

okay ive remained sceptical about the 'something in the mouth' thoughts making the rounds but you know what, i love a batshit theory (exactly how batshit, remains to be seen - im fully prepared to eat my words) as much as anyone, so let's take a look.

first off, i truly just thought it might have been a wee bit of slobber. that's fair, right? saliva on aziraphale's tongue, catches the light, whatever. but it's the frame before that one that has me wondering how much weight the theory has:

because in that first one, just as aziraphale's mouth opens, you can see that there is - what looks like - a dark, round object. it doesn't match the surrounding colour and texture of aziraphale's tongue, and then in the next few frames it catches the light in the same exact spot. the highlight is also curved, in such a way that, yeah, it definitely looks like a metallic object.

i know im not breaking new ground when suggesting it contains memories. idk if the object itself is:

a bullet from the rifle in 1941 (although i do doubt it; the calibre it would take would be rather unwieldy to hold in your mouth like this? plus: copper plating - this looks to be steel)

a pistol round from the hitherto-unseen derringer (more likely than the above, and in terms of potential significance of s3 would fit rather nicely in with a 1941 spec of mine regardless: potential crowley discorporation but. it's purely hypothetical), or

a ball bearing (which seems like it would just be a bit anomalous in terms of what props we've seen so far, but who knows. and i feel like if any prop was going to be at most risk of being swallowed accidentally, it's this)

but my current favourite is the derringer round so far. which would indicate that if - big if - crowley were discorporated in 1941, he could potentially have the bullet on him that 'killed' him, so to speak, for the time that follows afterwards.

i'll come back to what memories would be contained within it in a sec, because first, there's the question of whether aziraphale accessed them. if this theory is true (im fully taking this all with a pinch of salt, idk how i actually feel about it yet), i think aziraphale probably accessed them right then and there, as soon as crowley kissed him.

as soon as crowley kisses him, aziraphale looked mighty confused - arguably because of the kiss itself (im predominantly in this camp for the moment), but also possibly because he's just been volleyed something in this wild-ass game of tonsil tennis - before he begins to relax into it. potentially, as he relaxed, that could be when the memories first begin to 'play'.

and then we have the video below - sharpened and at 0.2x speed - that captures after the kiss breaks:

there's a moment, after his mouth presumably is handling around said object and sliding it under his tongue, that his expression clears, and - im sorry, but i'll die on this hill - instead takes on a look of betrayal. it's almost a realisation, a near instantaneous revelation. so let's say he does access the memories during the kiss, has been 'watching' them since the kiss first made contact/the object switched over... what would make aziraphale take on that expression, and react in betrayal and with an 'i forgive you'?

well, i have my thoughts, but let's go back again to the kiss itself. y'all remember this, right?

it suddenly feels a liiiiittle more deliberate that a) aziraphale would reach for crowley's wings, and b) the camera would capture this particular angle. maybe it's not, but again - humour me a sec.

so in terms of what the memory is? that crowley would place inside said object, would make aziraphale reach for crowley's wings, and result in aziraphale's initial upset and then expression of betrayal? the damning "i forgive you", and crowley's responding look of dejection and resignation, followed by "don't bother"? the memory that crowley would see fit to impart in the context of aziraphale choosing to return to heaven - the memory that would fit the scenes that have come before the kiss?

im wondering if it was the fall.

aziraphale sees crowley's fall, responds in sympathy and sadness in the back touch, but then perhaps remembers now/knows now the potential part crowley had to play in it.

now, it could be crowley's own account of the fall that he watches, sure. but we haven't seen that as a possible mechanic in the show - being able to access someone else's memories. we've only seen gabriel accessing his own. but that doesn't preclude that it's possible. however, that would suggest that crowley himself now can't remember his fall etc, which would be weird and potentially open too many loopholes.

alternatively, as others have put forward and would be logical, crowley accessed the records whilst in heaven and found that aziraphale's memories were incomplete. that, for me, would be the more plausible, because im not convinced that aziraphale does remember the fall. he makes references to crowley having 'been an angel once', and that he remembers 'the angel you were', and frankly it's all a little loosy-goosey. it would make wider narrative sense, too, that aziraphale can't remember - heaven doesn't want dissent to become an institutional problem, after all; so what do you do? you wipe away the crucial information that would give the angels any ideas in rebelling just like the fallen did.

if crowley did in fact have something to do with the genesis of the rebellion in heaven, instigated it or played an active, crucial part in it... and aziraphale can't remember that... maybe that is where the 'i forgive you' originates. and why crowley would reply with 'dont bother'. he attempts to make aziraphale understand why he can't go back, and why aziraphale shouldn't go back either, but all aziraphale can now concentrate on is the part that crowley had to play in it... the part that, for good reason, crowley has kept from him all this time.

again, idk how i feel about all this, but i do have to eat humble pie on my initial reservations about the narrative value of the theory and admit that it's compelling. especially as it would have aziraphale return to heaven with full understanding as to what heaven did in cause of, leading up to, and in response to, the rebellion - knowledge that presumably the metatron does not know he has... dangerous for the metatron especially, when you consider that he may have had a bigger hand in it than aziraphale previously thought.

#good omens #feral domestic/final fifteen meta #memory wipe theory #the fall/the great war spec #props meta

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666writingcafe · 2 days

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Meanwhile...

Mammon

I know I'm being stupid. I shouldn't be following Simeon to his room after he blew up at us in the dining car. If he's anything like Satan, I might as well start digging my grave.

But I can't leave him alone. I don't know why; it's just a gut feeling that I have. Still, my gut has never led me astray. And I'm not talking about when its judgment is clouded by greed, but during situations like this one. You know, life and death sorta things.

I take a deep breath before opening the sliding door. Simeon's back is turned to me, appearing to look out the train window.

"Hello, Mammon." His voice sounds eerily calm, like how Lucifer gets sometimes right before he begins torturing people.

I can't flee. I have to see this through.

"Dude, what happened back there? I've never seen you react like that, not even during the war."

"That is none of your concern." Simeon slightly turns his head to the right. "Tell me, why did you feel the need to bully Luke?"

"That wasn't my original intention--"

"Answer the question."

"I will, if you'll let me finish!" Silence. "Look, I believe he needs to be taught how to relax. He's way too uptight. I mean, he can't even take a little joke! The kid's a real piece of work."

"It's only a joke when everyone involved finds it amusing."

"Well, I can't help wantin' to tease him sometimes! In some ways, he kinda reminds me of myself when I was that age."

"Oh, really?" Simeon doesn't believe me.

"Seriously?! Don't you remember what I was like once upon a time?"

"A nuisance?"

"Naive, Simeon. I was that lost puppy. Cute, friendly, energetic, but incredibly oblivious to what the real world was like. I mean, isn't that why you guys are sendin' him to the Devildom and human world in the first place?" He sighs.

"Yes."

"It's almost been three years, and yet from this side of things he hasn't learned jackshit. He's still convinced that the way angels do things is the right way. He doesn't wanna even consider that he could be wrong."

"Oh, like you're doing much better," Simeon snaps.

"At least I'm doing something! You're just standing around and waiting for Luke to discover the world on his own. He needs guidance! And sometimes that means forcing him to experience new things whether he likes it or not!"

"And who are they going to blame when shit hits the fan, Mammon?" Simeon's facing me now, staring daggers into my face. "You were in charge of MC during the exchange program; what would have happened if a demon decided to have them for lunch during their first ever week in the Devildom?"

"The demon would get in trouble, obviously. But I'm not sure what this has to do with Luke--"

"Do you wanna know what else would have happened?" I'm not going to get another word in until he's done ranting, am I?

"People would have begun asking questions," Simeon quickly continues. "'Where was Mammon at the time?' 'Why didn't he stop the demon from eating MC?' And if you weren't able to come up with acceptable answers to those questions, your ass would have been on the line, because you failed to do your job.

"Oh, maybe you'd escape with a light punishment. After all, you have friends in high places that can bail you out of trouble. But what if you used up all your chances? What if protecting MC and ensuring they survived the exchange program was the one thing that would save you from a fate worse than death? What would you do then, Mammon?"

Oh my God...I knew he'd gotten demoted due to his lack of cooperation during the early stages of the war, but I didn't realize he was that close to being sent there. It's the one place in the Devildom that the Celestial Realm has control over, and it's usually reserved for the worst of the worst. The truly irredeemable.

And he's right. Being sentenced there is a fate worse than death.

"Simeon, I'm sorry. I...I didn't know." I walk over to him and tentatively hover my hand over his shoulder. He remains still, allowing me to rest my hand on there.

"Only Michael and Raphael do," he whispers. "They were the ones that offered me the guardianship over Luke. If anything happens to him, they won't show me mercy again, especially in light of them discovering that fucking notebook."

"You know Lord Diavolo would take you in." Simeon shakes his head.

"I don't want to spend the rest of my existence serving him." He pauses. "I'm sure he's a kind master, but he still rules over you guys. I want to be under my own power."

"What about MC?" The question slips out of my mouth, causing a corner of Simeon's to curve up slightly.

"That is an arrangement I'd prefer to keep between me and them."

#obey me shall we date #obey me mammon #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me mc

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clumsy-jiminie · 2 days

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ɪɴᴇᴠɪᴛᴀʙʟʏ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ | ᴘᴊᴍ | ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɴɪɴᴇ

❝ ʀᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇʟᴀxᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ❞

↣ summary :: Kiara Smith had dreamed of true love for as long as she could remember. from being obsessed with the Disney princesses who found affection in the strangest situations to dressing up as a bride from kindergarten to fourth grade. it was the only thing she ever truly desired, so much so that a pleasant smile and kind eyes could have her smitten in seconds. right when she thought she found the one, a chance encounter with Park Jimin—the city’s famously perfect fuck boy with a smile so warm and a heart of ice—has her feeling quite the opposite. he knocks her off her axis and derails her life as she knows it, yet the universe seems to have another plan for the two.

↣ rating :: 18+

↣ genre :: fluff, angst, smut, e2l, slow burn

↣ pairing :: business owner!jimin x fem!artist!oc ft. taehyung

↣ word count :: 5.5k

↣ chapter warnings :: mature language, implied sexual encounter

↣ notes :: a day in the life of our beloved jimin. I was really excited to write this chapter just bc I love how jimin is. there's so much I have planned for his character.

↣ next :: previous :: series m.list ↢

if you have any questions, comments, or concerns PLEASE don't hesitate to message me or send me an ask! my inbox is always open. 💖

"you know I'd be lying saying you're the one that could finally fix me, looking at my history, I'm bad at love."

- bad at love, halsey -

"You sure I can do this?" The dark-haired man asked, chewing on his plump lower lip as he stared at his white ceiling. The nervous habit often left his lips swollen and bruised, but he couldn't stop. It was better than chewing his nail beds raw.

The woman beside him scoffed obnoxiously, rustling the bed as she switched sides to face him. She looked at the man, worried etched into his beautiful features, stealing the place of his usual bubbly self.

"Are you kidding, Jimin?" She gazed at him, the same look of love swimming in her pools of chocolate as his. "Of course you can." She reached out to him, placing her delicate hand on his cheek. He turned to look at her. Her simple touch made his shoulders relax in an instant. "I have believed in you since the idea first fell from your lips."

He couldn't help but stare at her. Her words sunk into him, swelling his heart until there was no more room for worry. The gentle light of early dawn illuminated her pale pink skin, casting a soft halo around her. She was an angel—his angel—placed on earth to find him and bring warmth into his cold life. If every mistake he made led him to this point, he'd make them all over again.

He smiled, hoping to burn this moment into his memory of how she looked, how soft she felt, how sweet her voice was. He placed his hand on top of hers; feeling the stark difference between her soft hands and the diamond ring occupying her left finger. "I love you."

"I know," she leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips. It was quick and sweet but made his heart soar nonetheless.

"So what should I name it?"

She rolled onto her back as they both stared up at the ceiling. "Hm, well," she paused, pursing her lips in thought. "Whenever you dance, it's captivating. It's a topic, a discussion. Art, but moving."

Jimin's brows furrowed as he pondered on her words. "Like in motion?"

"Yes!" She squealed. "That's it!"

"So, Art in Motion…." The name sounded foreign on his tongue, scrunching his nose as he said the last vowel.

"Mhm, Art in Motion." She grinned.

But for some reason, it sounded exquisite when it left her lips. It sounded expensive, like a delicacy—like success. They glanced at each other, a giggle escaping her lips as Jimin reached over and pulled her into him, her small frame against his own. He covered her in kisses. Her laughs were the sweetest sound he's heard.

"What would I do without you?"

Jimin's eyes fluttered open, meeting with blonde hair covering the pillow beside him. It almost startled him; part of him expected to see those same chocolate waves from his dream. Dreaming was the only way he could remember the past, considering he would have willed those memories into a box during his waking hours. All they did was provide a source of pain, a fuel for depression, and he couldn't afford to waste time.

Like right now.

He wasn't a morning person and would strictly work at night if he had it his way. But nighttime was only for getting drunk and sleeping in terms of the business world, so he had to adjust. He pushed himself to sit up, running a hand through his messy bedhead to push the wild strands out of his eyes. His partner groaned softly from all the sudden movement, causing him to look at the girl through squinty eyes.

"Hey," he croaked with his brows furrowed. He glazed over the blonde's tousled waves that cascaded over her bare spine. He reached out and touched her, cold hands against warm skin, but to his surprise, there was no response. His brows squished together further; that trick usually caused them to spring to life.

The muscles in his jaw feathered with annoyance as he grabbed his phone off the nightstand, checking the time. He got out of bed and gathered his boxer briefs from the clothes that were scattered amongst the floor, haphazardly thrown about in last night's act of passion. This girl slept like a rock and would put a significant dent in his schedule if she didn't get up soon. And as stated earlier, he didn't have time to waste. He responded to a few text messages he deemed urgent before grabbing the comforter and tugging off of her body. She groaned in protest, reaching out to grasp at the sheets.

"Yo, get up." The blonde began to walk around his bedroom while picking up bits and pieces of her clothes. It may have been cold the past few nights, but dressing with this many layers was extreme. After confirming he grabbed everything, he tossed the bundle of fabrics at her. The sound of a text notification rang from his phone, prompting him to respond quickly. "You gotta go," he said over the clicks of his keyboard.

The woman finally sat herself up, furrowing her brows as she looked back at the man. He was barely paying any attention to her. She got up and started to get dressed again. "Good morning to you, too," she said, catching a glance from him for a second. She huffed quietly, sliding her shirt on. "You know, guys I normally hook up with, treat me to breakfast in the morning."

"That's nice for them," Jimin deadpanned.

The blonde gasped dramatically, her green eyes widening. "You know, I deserve better!"

He nodded his head, "Mhm definitely. You do deserve better." He walked over to his door and opened it, eyes still glued to his phone screen. "And you are welcome to go find it! Outside my apartment."

The woman pouted at the man now. She walked over, standing directly in front of him. She had hoped to get his attention one last time, but her efforts failed. "I didn't want to believe the rumors about you. I was hoping they weren't true, but I guess Park Jimin does have a heart of ice."

Jimin genuinely snickered, looking at the girl. "I guess you'll learn not to be so naive," he grinned at her, and her heart could've melted. Someone so cold shouldn't possess a smile so warm. Mixing fire with ice should've been physically impossible, but here he was, the walking enigma. "Izzy will let you out. Ensure you don't forget anything; I'm not fond of flings." The blonde girl left his bedroom as he looked down at the phone again. "Get home safe, Jamie!"

"It's Jessica!" He heard just as he shut the door.

It didn't matter what her name was since he would never see her again. Like she said, the rumors were true. Park Jimin will treat you as if you were the only girl in the world, to forget your existence when morning arises. Warm to the touch with words like icicles. He walked to his bathroom, losing the box briefs as he hooked up some music for his shower.

After completing his morning routine, he walked out of the bathroom with a towel barely hanging around his hips. He tossed his phone onto his bed as he walked over to the wall-length windows occupying one side of the room. As Jimin pulled back the curtains, allowing sunlight to finally crash through his windows, he sighed deeply. He looked up at the crisp blue sky with a slight frown pulling on his lips. He rubbed at his chest, hand over his heart as if to soothe a never-ending ache.

She liked days like this, days without a cloud in sight. It reminded her of perfect summer days, with ice cream dripping down her chin and children's laughter.

"Mr. Park," said a woman as she barged into Jimin's room. The woman was genuinely heaven-sent when he needed her to be. Her heels clicked against his polished, white birch flooring, the sound ripping him from intrusive memories that would’ve left him bedridden for a week. She stared down at the binder in one hand while the used pushed blonde hair out of her face. She adjusted her glasses as she waited for her response.

Jimin inhaled deeply, letting his eyes shut as his head tilted back. His hand rested over his heart. While being heaven-sent, he knew exactly what would come out of her mouth in the next 15 seconds just by how she entered his room. "Yes?" He sighed.

"Alright, you have a 9:30 with Mr. Salvatore; he said he wanted to double-check the lot for the next studio. The graphics team for AIMIt also would like to meet with you when you have the time. I said you were available at 11, hoping the studio check would be brief, so it'll be just before your lunch. And….” Izzy continued to ramble on about various meetings on the itinerary today, emails that needed to be sent, and checks that needed to be signed, causing Jimin's head to spin.

"Iz…." He called out as he shut his eyes tight, trying to separate his thoughts from her voice. She continued, prompting him to turn around and face the woman. "Izzy," he repeated a bit louder this time. She stared down at the binder in her hand, her free one waving about as she spoke and pushing back her black-rimmed glasses when needed. He walked towards her, and with her total lack of attention to her surroundings, Jimin could snatch the binder from her hand, her wide blue eyes finally meeting his brown ones. He looked down at his jam-packed schedule, seeing tiny color-coded notes that made him squint. Even with his contacts in, he still couldn't read any of it. "Did you manage to schedule in when I get to take a shit?" He smirked playfully at her.

Izzy rolled her eyes, reclaiming the binder from the man. "Oh ha ha, Mr. Park, you're so hilarious!" Sarcasm laced her words while Jimin sent her a wink. He walked towards his walk-in closet, and she intuitively followed while she flipped through the pages of the schedule she meticulously put together. "But these are the consequences of going to dinner the other night! You have a tightly packed schedule down to the second, thanks to yours truly. You're welcome." He dropped the towel, but this didn't phase Izzy at all. She was dedicated to her job, and dedication meant walking in on the blonde more often than not.

She was organized, precise, and reliable but needed to gain awareness of boundaries. You win some and lose some.

"You don't have time to waste!" She reiterated as if Jimin didn't already know. He continued to get dressed, sliding on a pair of boxer briefs before putting on a pair of black sweatpants. "Between being the owner AND an instructor, I'm surprised you have time to shit! By the way, I have you down for 2:30 PM and 6 PM for bathroom times, figuring things could digest after lunch and a snack."

"Well, it won't be needed," he said before asking Siri about the weather. "Cancel everything."

"W-What?!" She stammered, looking at the shirtless man as if he had four heads.

Jimin thumbed through his athletic shirts, flipping between a long-sleeved compression shirt and a long-sleeved cotton shirt. They were both black, and he ended up going with the former. "Cancel it all." He took the shirt off the hanger, slid the stretchy material over his torso, and turned to face the woman again. "I want a day to myself."

"Are you crazy?! Mr. Salvatore doesn't like it when people cancel at the last minute, which is fair! You need—"

"Isabelle," his stern tone cut her off and promptly shut her up. She knew which battles she could win, and this wasn't one of them. "Mr. Salvatore can wait. The graphics team can wait. However, I will drop by the office to get payroll done. Other than that, I know everything, and everyone else will wait. You know this business doesn't move without me."

He was right, and of course he was. Even though he constantly reminds Hoseok that the man is just as important as he is, the brand will crumble without Jimin. They needed his business expertise, as it was his major in college. He walked out of his closet after slipping on some sneakers, knowing Izzy would trail behind like his shadow. After grabbing his phone and keys from his room, he went downstairs.

"Do you think I should get breakfast at Little Latte or Starbucks?" He asked as he skimmed through the various food items in his fridge—nothing but odd ends and snacks. He was rarely home anymore, and when he was, it was after dinner or to commit someone to his sheets.

"Mr. Park…," she said softly, voice slightly quivering as she held the binder close to her chest.

"Izzy," he sighed again, closing his fridge and looking at the small girl before him. She was trembling despite her serious tone. He couldn't help but frown a little. He knew how much this job meant to her, primarily because he found her. He technically saved her, and she showed her gratitude by being so dedicated. Little did she know, she was the one who saved him, and Jimin would never be able to repay her. "After you reschedule everything, because I know you will, please take the day off as well."

He walked over to her, lifting her chin with his finger to look into her blue eyes. She glared at him, making him smile. Her brows furrowed, her body rejecting the idea of a day off.

"Come on, Iz," he pleaded once he realized she wouldn't budge. "It's beautiful outside! Take a walk, get some sun! We both deserve some rest and relaxation. If not, you leave me no choice but to fire you." The woman looked up at him with wide eyes as his brows raised. He cracked a smile, "Don't worry, you know I'd rehire you."

Izzy let out a heavy sigh. She couldn't help but roll her eyes, falling victim to Park Jimin's irresistible tactics. "Starbucks is overpriced, and you know Little Latte makes the best coffee on the Lower East Side," she offered the man a small smile.

"Thank you," he reached out to ruffle her hair, causing her to swat at his hand. "Now go on! And I expect to hear all about your magical day off tomorrow morning!" He urged her towards the door while she let out a loud scoff. They knew she would stay inside and rework Jimin's schedule, maybe curl up with a book afterward. She loathed the outdoors.

After Isabelle left, he scrambled around one of his spare closets where he threw random objects in. Like how every household had a junk drawer, he had a junk closet. There, Jimin found his old yoga mat, dusting off the plush rug. He didn't realize how long it's been since he used it. Either way, he had plans to change that today. He headed towards the door and left.

Jimin opted to walk to the quaint coffee shop, seeing as it was just a short distance from his penthouse. It indeed was a beautiful day outside—not a cloud in sight. The sun offered a comforting warmth instead of beating down on the man like he owed it rent money. There was a light breeze just for the people who got hot no matter what, keeping everyone comfortable. With over-ear headphones on, blasting Justin Bieber as he walked down the sidewalk like he owed it.

"When I'm in my thoughts sometimes, it's hard to believe I'm the person you think I am, the person you tell me you love…"

Skip.

So much for that. The blonde continued to hit the arrow button on his phone screen. He needed a little more upbeat and a little less let's-remind-you-of-your-past.

"Got a boy back home in Michigan, and it tastes like Jack when I'm kissing him…"

Settling for Halsey, he continued his trek until he reached his destination. He pushed the door open, and as expected, the quaint coffee shop was busy despite being a Wednesday at 11 AM. He quietly joined the queue, bopping his head to the music blasting in his ears. He noted which songs made his body subconsciously move, hoping to prepare something for a later class. As the line grew closer to the registers, he lowered his music just enough to hear the quiet hum of a busy establishment. Once at the counter, he pulled off his headphones and rested them around his neck.

"Hi, welcome in, what can I—Oh shit," Jimin heard as he reached for his wallet. He furrowed his brows while looking up at the person behind the counter. Eyes of flames met his own, making his go round. In front of him stood a tall man with dark hair pulled up into a bun resting on his head. A silver hoop glimmered against his lips while various black ink and color tattoos traveled down his arm and spilled onto his hand. He held a black Sharpie with a tight grip, frozen in place as it hovered over a plastic cup.

Jimin was slightly stunned and a bit confused. He didn't know this man for him to be on the opposing end of a glare. "Did I—"

"What do you want?" The other man growled, causing Jimin's eyes to narrow. Little Latte has been his favorite spot for years, and he's never once had such a rude interaction with any of the staff.

"A medium dalgona, please."

"Of course, you'd pick the most annoying drink to make."

"Couldn't possibly be as annoying as you right now."

The man scoffed. "Aren't you too old to be using comebacks from grade school?"

"Aren't you too poor to be talking to me like this?" Jimin snapped, earning a quiet gasp from the woman behind him. The man's patience was thin, and he only wanted a cup of coffee. The taller man's gaze hardened at Jimin, almost challenging him. Jimin was never one to back down, so he stared back as he placed a hand on his hip and looked the man up and down.

An older man walked out from a side door wearing a soft blue button-down and a black apron covered in flour and food stains around his hips. He stood with perfect posture and didn't look a day over 30. His midnight hair and beard had peppered strands of silver throughout. His skin was pale with rosy undertones, lips perfectly structured, and a jawline sharp enough to cut through granite. Jimin could only wish he'd look that good in his older age. He did a double take at Jimin as he stood by the barista's side. Any evidence of concern in the older man's face dissipated while Jimin's tense shoulders dropped a little from the familiar face.

"Ah! Jimin! It's so wonderful to see you." He nodded at the man briefly, pearly teeth peeking behind rose-shaded lips, before looking at the barista. "Why don't you take your break, Jeongguk? I got it from here." Jeongguk sighed softly, dropping the cup before entering the room where the older man once came.

"Sorry about that, Jimin; he must be a little tired. He normally doesn't work Wednesdays," the man said as he finished Jimin's order.

Jimin finally managed to relax, though his brows remained furrowed. "It's no problem, Mr. Choi. How much do I owe you?" He looked down at his wallet and began to sort through the bills.

"Nothing," Mr. Choi's brows furrowed as he flinched slightly.

Jimin's warm brown eyes met the others', hand frozen in place with a 20 dollar bill between his fingertips. "Mr. Choi," he deadpanned.

"Jimin," he said in the same tone, prompting a groan from the blonde as he rolled his eyes. Mr. Choi couldn't help but chuckle as he turned his back to the man to start preparing his beverage. He stepped to the side with a playful pout on his puffy pink lips.

He forgot when Mr. Choi started to refuse his payments, but he fought him every time the elder insisted it was on the house. Good coffee deserves compensation. Good food deserves payment, especially if everything is made in-house. Mr. Choi was an insane baker. While away in Spain, he missed Little Latte dearly. This was his safe space for years during college—from studying to heartbreak, Mr. Choi has seen him through it all.

After sneakily paying for the lady behind him, he waited for his coffee, glancing around the shop. The shop mainly had stayed the same since Jimin first started to come here until something caught his attention. Across the room, by the stage, placed against the wall, was a piece of artwork. A Luna piece, to be specific. He felt a chill spread from his face to his fingertips, suddenly feeling flushed with heat.

"You really did mean it when you said you were a big fan.”

Her voice rang through his ears as if she were right next to him. Jimin's cheeks burned as he swallowed hard, folding his arms over his chest. He tried to pull his eyes away from the seamlessly blended pale and mid-green tones that spread horizontally from one end of the canvas to the other. Flecks of emerald green and metallic silver danced freely amongst the ombré. The piece was a statement, the colors popping against the taupe wall. Knowing he could spot her work anywhere, he hated that Kiara was right.

"Is that new?" He asked as he glanced at the owner.

Mr. Choi looked at Jimin and then at the painting, "Oh yeah. A customer gifted it to me as a birthday present." The man smiled as he reminisced. There were very few people who held a space in his heart, but since moving here, it seemed as if he adopted a family. "Kiara," a fond smile spread on his lips while Jimin's heart started to race, "lovely girl."

The older man handed the blonde, who seemed entranced by the painting, his beverage. "You know, she reminds me a lot of you," he chuckled. Jimin's eyes widened, almost dropping the coffee he had just received. He stared at Mr. Choi, who had a slight smirk playing on his lips. "Both of you are very hard workers, lovers of the arts, and pains in my ass."

Jimin glared at the man while Mr. Choi threw his head back, cackling. There was no way in hell he and Kiara were alike. Grouping the man with a selfish liar was ridiculous, but the blonde forced a smile to humor him. He stuck his hand in his pocket again, hearing sounds of disapproval from behind the counter.

"I said it was on the house!" Mr. Choi argued.

Jimin ignored him, seeing a jar on the counter with a white label that 'read tips :)'. The container held various dollar bills and some spare change, but the shop deserved more. Despite the elder's protests, the man grabbed a 100-dollar bill and stuck it in the jar.

"Jimin!"

"If you keep complaining, I'm gonna put another hundred in there," the blonde threatened with a grin. Mr. Choi narrowed his eyes at him but didn't make another sound. Jimin winked at the older man, causing him to roll his eyes and shake his head before returning to work.

The man sipped his coffee and walked over to a seat by the window. A seat he had known since his college days. He enjoyed watching the people walk by; it kept his mind quiet as he made up stories for those who passed. It was easy to do in a place like this, where there were so many different people on so many different routes.

Sometimes, he wondered what it would've been like if he had gone down an alternative route. Would he be able to take days off whenever? Would he have been able to sit in a coffee shop? Or would his day have been plagued with never-ending emails from people demanding his attention?

Jimin didn't like to think about it often, feeling anger bubbling in his gut.

"Your dreams don't matter."

"You can dream once you take over this company."

The blonde shook his head, ridding the memories from his mind. Just as he took the last sip of his sweet coffee, his phone started to buzz in his pocket. Jimin quickly reached for it, glancing at the caller ID before answering.

His sweet coffee turned bitter on his tongue.

He swallowed hard, feeling his hands grow warm as he placed the empty cup on the table. He stared at the screen, breathing unsteadily as he racked his brain for reasons why she would be calling. A few seconds later, the contact named Mother disappeared from his screen, minimizing to a small missed call notification. His jaw clenched as his body tensed up.

She told him never to call her again.

He promised he wouldn't and kept it.

So why was she contacting him?

His phone buzzed again, seeing she had also left him a voicemail. He inhaled deeply, shutting his eyes briefly before unlocking his phone. He waited to check the voicemail. Just the thought of her managed to will the action of her reaching out into existence. Now, if only Jimin could use those powers in other aspects of life.

The man ran his fingers through his pale golden locks, gripping the strands briefly before releasing them. Jimin released another heavy sigh, shutting his eyes for a moment. Little Latte was a great place to sit and think until those thoughts became heavy. Next thing you know, you're bawling your eyes out while the owner consoles you with a cup of tea and a freshly baked sugar cookie.

As he debated on staying, fighting the demons and nightmares that were bound to rear their ugly heads and finally try to lay them to rest, he spotted a note stuck onto the table. It read:

“Have the courage to say no. Have the courage to face the truth. Do the right thing because it is right. These are the magic keys to living your life with integrity."

His lips pulled into a small smile as he read it, glancing around as if he were going to find the one who wrote it. How did this mystery person know that this was what he needed to hear right now?

And with that, the blonde got up, throwing away his trash before waving goodbye to Mr. Choi. The note was a good pick me up and gave Jimin the boost he needed. He wasn't going to go back to that place again. He wouldn't let his thoughts consume him past the point of no return again. He made a promise to a little girl, and he intended to keep it. Unlike some people, promises meant something to him. He placed his headphones over his eyes again as he looked up the nearest yoga studio on his phone. Living in New York was terrific on days like these; everything was within walking distance of each other, and you never needed to go far to find what you needed.

After following the directions from his phone, he stopped in front of a building with tinted glass windows. On one of the windows was cursive lettering that read State of Mind. The words circled a silhouette of a person sitting with their legs layered one over the other. Jimin pushed the door open and entered. The light, cream-colored walls and the golden oak-stained wood flooring gave the room a bright feel. There was a hint of lavender incense burning in the air, nothing too strong but enough to calm his nerves upon entering. Various plants were placed meticulously around the room while soothing music filled the otherwise quiet space.

He walked up to the desk, where a woman with long dark hair focused on a computer screen. The blonde waited patiently, not wanting to be rude by demanding her attention instantly. Soon enough, the girl glanced at him, doing a double take. Her brown eyes were wide with wonder, and her jaw slightly hung open with a smile tugging at her lips. She stared much longer than socially appropriate, making the blonde chuckle uncomfortably.

"I'm sorry," she sighed, placing a hand on her chest while a dusty pink spread across her tanned cheeks. "You're Jimin, right? On TikTok?"

Jimin offered the girl a slight smile as he chuckled sheepishly. "Yeah, I am."

"Oh my god, I'm such a huge fan! I've been dying to go to one of your classes, but," the girl suddenly looked down and away, the pink on her cheeks deepening to a rose. "I'm not that great of a dancer."

The blonde's smile widened. "That's OK! We offer beginner classes and ensure everyone is comfortable and confident in their skin. We're really laid back." He reassured as the brunette looked at him again. She was pretty, with a sweet face, innocent eyes, and a shy smile. He felt a pain in his chest, his smile wavering for a second, but not enough for her to notice. "Let me get your contact information, and I'll try to squeeze you into my next class if you're interested."

She perked up, the smile on her face reaching her eyes. "I'd like that!" She quickly wrote down her information and handed it to him. "Now, how may I help you today?"

Jimin chuckled, slightly amused by her quick personality switch. "I was wondering if there was a glass I could join in," he said as he pulled his wallet out of his pocket. "I know it's kinda last minute."

"That's fine!" She tapped on her keyboard a few times. "There's a class starting in a few minutes with an opening, so you can walk on in."

The smile on his lips grew. They finished out the transaction as Jimin lightly flirted with the girl. He couldn't help it. She looked so much like… her. The woman from his dreams. From his nightmares.

He walked down a nearby hallway until he reached a frosted glass door. Upon entering, he noticed the chatter amongst the fellow occupants stopped. Suddenly, all eyes were on him. If it were anyone else, they would've been startled by the point of uncomfortableness, walking in with shoulders that seemed to fold in on themselves while keeping their eyes glued to the floor.

Jimin was the exact opposite. He knew he commanded the attention of any room, so he was used to the peering eyes watching his every move. There was silence beside his footsteps that led him to an empty spot next to someone who got a head start on stretching—someone who seemed not to care about who had just walked into the room at all. After he rolled out his mat, the conversation between the other people resumed. As he took a moment to warm up, his eyes glanced around the room.

The area had the same walling and flooring as the reception area. Wall-length windows aligned against the right wall gave a full view of a garden they had outside. The foliage began getting its deep green leaves back, and colorful buds were sprouting. The place must've been beautiful in full bloom. He made a mental note to visit later in the Spring.

His eyes then went from looking past to the girl beside him. She wore a black zip-up hoodie that stopped short enough to expose some of the golden brown skin of her abdomen. She raised her arms, stretching out her body. Her silhouette was absolutely sinful. A perfect hourglass shape accentuated every more so by her fuller figure. She had on a pair of thin yoga pants, and Jimin could damn near lose his mind staring at her ass, so he looked elsewhere. Her dark hair was tied into a messy bun, loose spirals sticking out here and there, trying to break out of their restraints. All he could do was imagine himself with his fingers entangled in her hair while he pulled on them, burying himself deep inside of her while she screamed out for more.

Stop. You came here to relax, the blonde thought to himself.

Jimin pulled his arm over his chest and held it with his other arm, stretching his shoulders. So far, the body was nice; now, if she just turned around, he could decide if she was worth pursuing. The blonde didn't have a type—he liked anyone in any shape, size, or skin tone. With all the beautiful people in the world, why limit himself? Love is blind, and lust is fluid; there should be no reason to be picky when you're just looking for fun.

He turned his body to the wall-length mirror in front of them, hoping to get a glance at her face. At the same time, she turned to face the mirror as well. Their eyes instantly met as if they were looking for each other.

His heart dropped into his stomach while his face grew hot.

It couldn't be. There was no way.

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bucks-babe · 3 months

Text

Be Mean To Me

Pairing: Bucky x f!reader

Summary: After a long day at work, you just want to lose all control and have your boyfriend fuck you into oblivion

Warnings: Established relationship, slight angst, fluff, smut, mean!dom!bucky, reader asks for it, they are so in love, rough sex, dom/sub dynamics, oral (male receiving), ball sucking, slapping, spit kink?, degradation, humiliation, name calling (slut, whore, bitch, sugar, good girl), daddy kink, some praise, spanking, pussy slapping (like once), safe word (yellow), vaginal sex, no prep anal, Bucky has a huge dick, choking, aftercare, check-ins, crying during sex, crying after sex, soft!Bucky, no mention of Y/N, no description of reader other than being female

Word Count: 4.9k of mostly smut

A/N: This was very self indulgent. Work has been kicking my ass and I want to be taken care of. Any mistakes are my own. If I missed any warnings please let me know. @bucknastysbabe it's done! I think I should go back to therapy. But hey, smut

You feel your throat tighten as you walk up to the apartment you share with Bucky. It was one of those days that left you beaten down and wanting to curl up under your blankets and cry. You didn’t even want to go into work this morning, having to force yourself to get ready. Too many rude customers, incompetent coworkers giving you more work than you get paid to do, everything leaving you overstimulated and wanting your boyfriend.

It left a craving deep down inside of you, a want that you knew only he could quell. You just wanted to shut your brain off, have Bucky take care of you, ruin you, treat you like a whore, break you down, just to put you back together again.

You swallow the lump in your throat and unlock the front door, finding Bucky on the couch watching some random action movie that he claimed to hate. At the sight of him your body naturally relaxes and the urge to crawl onto his lap is too much to bear.

“Hey, sugar. I’ve been missing you all day. You’ll never fucking believe the video Sam sent me of Tony trying out his new thrusters! He flew rig- What’s wrong?” He perked up at the sound of the door opening, truly missing his girl. Whenever you’re around him his entire day gets better, a lightness filling his chest, but when he sees how run down you are, his heart literally hurts for you. Bucky wants to protect you from everything, from supervillains all the way to spiders in the house.

“Long day, baby. Just wanna be with you.” He opens his arms and you instantly crawl into his lap, eyes burning with tears you refuse to shed. He runs his metal hand up and down your back, pulling you as close to him as possible, while his flesh hand rests on your head, holding you to his neck, letting you breathe him in.

“What can I do for you, sugar? Want to talk about it? I can order from your favorite place. Can run you a bath. Whatever you want, sweet girl.”

“Please, be mean to me, Bucky.” Bucky feels his heart clench in his chest. He wants to keep your heart safe from whatever it is that is plaguing you, but he knows he can’t. What he can do is follow your request and make you forget.

“How mean do you want me, sugar?” Bucky has done this for you a few times. He always asks how you want him to treat you. It’s in his nature to be sweet to you, fill you with praise, but that's not what you want right now. You want to be degraded and treated like a fucktoy.

“Mean.” You keep your eyes trained on him. This is the only part where you need to keep your head on, make sure that he knows you want this.

“Remember your colors, sugar?” You nob, excitement bubbling up inside of you. “Remember, daddy will only be upset with you if you don’t use them. If you need to say yellow or red, you will.” His tone is final. This is the only way he would ever agree to treating you like a slut.

“Yes, daddy.” And just like that, Bucky’s entire demeanor changes. He goes from your sweet, cuddly boyfriend to a cold and callous body of muscle.

“Then take your clothes off, slut.” He pushes you off his lap, just hard enough to give the illusion of indifference. As you strip, Bucky keeps his eyes trained on the TV, not paying you any mind. Your core throbs at the fact that you are completely exposed while he is still fully dressed.

“On your knees.” He’s still not looking at you, but you obey without thought, willing to do whatever he wants. Grabbing the back of your neck, he forces you in between his spread legs, and you whine at the fact that his cock is still soft inside his sweats. Any other day, Bucky would make sure that your knees were never on the hardwood floor without a pillow or something soft underneath, but not today.

On days like these, when you want to feel completely submissive, it takes Bucky a while to get aroused. It’s in his nature to love up on you, make you drunk with pleasure in the sweetest way possible. He feeds off of your energy. When he is sure that you are having fun, his body lets himself fall into his role.

“What? You think at the first signs of some tits I’m gonna get hard? I knew you were a dumb slut but I didn’t realize just how thick you were.” Your pussy was absolutely pulsing with need. With his hand still on the back of your neck, he rubs your face against his crotch, feeling his cock begin to harden at the smell of your arousal.

He pulls you back far enough to slide his pants down, foregoing boxers, and you immediately try to take his half hard length in your mouth. Before you can process it, Bucky’s right hand lands a slap to your cheek - hard enough to make a welt that will take a few hours to disappear. You gasp and your cunt pulses even harder than before at the sting left on your cheek.

His metal hand wraps around your chin, much cooler than it’s supposed to be, and forces you to look him in the eye. In the back of your mind you realize that he turned on the cooling function in his arm to sooth your cheek; the arm was built to keep him cool in the Wakandan sun and heat. “Did daddy say you could suck his cock?” He uses his hand to shake your head from side to side, answering for you. “Then keep your slutty mouth shut.”

He spreads his legs wider and pulls your face closer to his heavy sack, already full of cum. “Hands behind your back, and suck on daddy’s balls.” You join your hands together behind your back without question and nuzzle his balls. Wasting no time, you take one into your mouth, sucking feverishly, enjoying the light dusting of hair tickling your face.

“Oh, fuck, come on, slut, I know you can do better than that. Take ‘em both in your dirty mouth.” He pushes you further into him, cutting off your oxygen, and you swear you hear your slick drip onto the floor. Your jaw aches as you try to get them both in your mouth, but you can't; his balls are too big. Bucky ruts against your face, squishing his balls, precum leaking from his tip, dripping onto his stomach after he takes his shirt off.

With your limited amount of movement, you alternate between each ball, licking at the seam. Every time you switch balls, you feel the other drag wetly across your face and you have to clench your legs in an attempt to quell the ache between them while fighting with your need for air. “Such a dirty bitch, lapping at your daddy’s nuts, shit.” He pulls you back just as your head starts to go fuzzy from the lack of oxygen, and you gasp for air, spit is covering the lower half of your face and is dripping down your neck and chest; Bucky feels his cock throb at the sight.

Reaching out, Bucky smears your spit around your face and leaves another, weaker smack to your cheek before he grabs his cock and uses his weeping tip to tease you, dragging it on your face. “What a nasty fucking bitch, drooling all over the place just from sucking some balls.” He slaps your cheeks with it a few times before forcing your head down all the way, making you gag and you immediately pull off, coughing.

He stares into your eyes, cold and calculating, waiting for you to speak. When your coughing subsides you manage to get out a hoarse ‘green,’ giving him the all clear. He takes your head and once again makes you take his cock, this time much slower and not as deep, the first time he wanted to fuck with you. “Such a perfect fucking mouth, shit.” He stops you from bobbing your head, “Stop being such a desperate whore and let daddy finish his movie.” You're sure you’re leaking onto the floor at this point.

You are able to see his face and he looks wrecked, mouth hanging open and head back; he’s not watching shit. Nonetheless, you rest your head on his thigh, getting comfortable, spreading your legs out to get closer to the floor so your head won't be bent at an awkward angle, ignoring the pain in your knees and the ache in your jaw.

The only sounds filling the room are Bucky’s ragged breathing and the movie playing in the background. There is saliva everywhere, his cock, all over his balls, down to his ass and on the couch. His cock is constantly leaking precum into your mouth but you don’t swallow, letting his taste linger on your tongue.

This isn’t what you wanted, you wanted him to demolish you. Sitting with his cock in your mouth is giving you too much time to think, so you do what any sane person would do - be a brat. At the first suckle, Bucky lets out a broken moan, at the second, he knows what you’re up to. Flicking your ear with his metal hand he hisses, “Don’t make me punish you, bitch.” At the third, he yanks you off of his dick, a trail of drool and precum keeping the two of you connected, as slaps you once again with his flesh hand, this time not soothing the marred flesh with his metal hand.

He stands and kicks the couch out of the way and pulls you with him by the neck. “You disobedient little-” he cuts himself short at the small puddle of slick that he finds from your previous position. “Is that what I think it is?” You only whine in response, his grip on your neck never faltering.

With his free hand, he reaches down to your pussy to feel just how wet you are, confirming his suspicions. “What a dirty fucking slut, leaking all over my floor.” He pulls you in closer to him just to whisper, “Lick it the fuck up, bitch,” before pushing you to the ground.

Your knees hit the wood hard and pain runs up your spine. You ignore the ache and brainlessly lap at your juices on the floor before Bucky smushes your cheek against the puddle and you moan. “Messy bitch, you are? Cunt is pulsing, waiting for my dick. Too bad I have to punish you, isn’t it, slut?” He leans down to the floor, eyes lined up with yours. “Daddy is going to give you ten spanks and I want you to count them.” You don’t respond immediately, stuck in a sort of limbo, drawn in further at the softness in his eyes.

No matter how hard he tries, Bucky can’t hide his devotion to you, that’s why he doesn’t let you look at him when he needs to play this role. His whole face softens at your silence, fearing he’s gone too far. “Color, sugar.” Stroking your cheek, he leans in closer, breathing you in.

“Green, daddy, so green.” The sigh Bucky lets out is audible and he feels ten times lighter.

“Good girl, you want to keep going the way we were?” Even though you said green, he wants to be certain.

“Yes please, daddy, want you to be mean.” You look so small and soft. Bucky struggles to put his facade back up, but he knows you need this.

Bucky positions himself behind you, staring at your ass and glistening pussy, and feels his cock bounce. The first slap isn’t soft by any means, you know there will be a handprint left. Your body jolts and Bucky groans at the jiggle of your ass. “One.” The second is on your other cheek and makes you clench around nothing. “Two.” He lands the next two much harder on the same cheek and you feel tears form in your eyes, yet continue to count, digging your nails into your palm.

He repeats the two spanks to your left cheek and takes a break to sooth your heated and raised skin with his metal hand after you’ve counted. The ground beneath your cheek is hard and unforgiving, leaving you neck bent at an odd angle. Spank seven lands on the back of your right thigh and somehow feels much stronger. “Shit! Seven, daddy.” Eight is on your left, and is just as hard. Your entire lower body aches: cunt pulsing and throbbing for his cock, thighs burning, and ass red and raw, sobbing with every impact.

“These last two are going to be harder, slut, since you forgot to count.” Even with his warning, you aren’t prepared. They are hard and fast, hearing them before you feel them, knocking the breath out of you, and you try to scramble up, but Bucky holds you down. “Don’t run away from me, you know better.” All of a sudden, the sharpest and most excruciating pain blooms from your cunt, and then you hear the wet smack of his metal hand hitting your core.

You wail, body shooting up, legs fighting to close to soothe the sting left. Before you can, Bucky’s hand on the back of your head keeps you to the ground, while he slams his cock into your cunt, not stopping to let you adjust. “That’s it, fuck. Such a good pussy. Dirty fucking bitch.” You can’t breathe, his cock is knocking all of the air out of your lungs. The only sounds in the room are Bucky’s moans and the wet slapping of skin, his heavy balls banging against your sore clit. With each thrust you’re sure he’s hitting your cervix.

The hand on the back of your head leaves to grab your hip, letting him fuck you even faster, the both of you sliding further and further on the floor. You try to brace yourself with your hands, but the brutality of his fucking is no match. “Daddy, fuck, s-so g-good, please!” You don’t know what you’re begging for, but your cunt is pulling him in, barely letting him pull out.

Bucky is practically chasing you on the floor, hips never slowing down, eyes trained on your pussy, loving the creamy white mess on his dick. “Fuuuck, look at the ass bouncing on daddy’s cock, shit! Love the way this fat fucking ass looks when its all red and sore.” He’s in heaven, with the tight clench of your cunt wrapping around his cock, making him feel crazy.

“Daddy! I can’t, f-fuck, please, too much!” You’re fucking delirious with pleasure, feeling something twisting inside of you. You searched for something to hold on to, only finding smooth surface, legs locking, body seizing up.

“You can and you will take this dick, bitch. I don’t care if it makes you fucking bleed.” The pressure in your core builds tighter and tighter, all the while, Bucky’s hips never falter, sack still ramming against your clit.The breath is knocked out of you when you feel the most intense orgasm of your life pass through you.

Keening and wailing, you squirt on Bucky’s cock, the sounds of your fucking somehow getting even more wet until the force of your orgasm pushes his cock out. Your body is left twitching. There is a much larger puddle on the floor now - your cum. Bucky could fucking cum at the sight of your pathetic body laying on the ground, body wrought with pleasure. “Fuck, sugar! That was so fucking hot! You squirted all over, shit! I fucking love you so goddamn much.”

The entire lower half of his body is covered with your cum and Bucky swears he can feel his heartbeat in his cock. Nonetheless, he wraps his arms around your waist and hulls you over to where he kicked the couch, placing your upper half on the cushions. “You’re so fucking wet now I bet I could slide right into that tight ass, what do you think, slut?” Your core pulses at the thought of his fat cock in your ass, the two of you don’t usually do anal, given how big he is, but you can’t think straight, especially after cumming so hard.

“Yes, daddy. I want your big cock in my ass, want you to fill me up.” Bucky groans at the thought of his excessive load running out of your ass. Leaning back, he ruts against your pussy, gathering more of your slick, before spreading your cheeks with his hands, staring at your puckered hole. He lines his cock up and watches as precum leaks from his tip.

His cock is huge, much longer and thicker than average, and he knows it. Grabbing himself near his tip, he pushes, grunting at the resistance, knowing that this would be much easier if he takes the time to prep you, but you want to be treated like a whore. “You gotta loosen the fuck up, bitch or else I’ll really fucking hurt you. Want this fucking ass so bad, better let daddy in. Cock is too big for this little ass, isn’t it, gonna split you in half, leave you leaking for days.”

He pushes harder, tip finally popping in, causing searing pain to shoot through you. Crying out, you try to pull forward to escape the burning pain, wiggling further into the couch. Bucky leans over, careful not to push in any further, he knows you need a moment, any other time you would have been fully prepped and he would have slid right in, and wraps his metal hand around your neck, shushing you, “Shhhh, stop being so dramatic.”

After a few minutes, the pain begins to subside and your breathing calms down. Keeping his hand around your throat, he pushes in, inch by inch, and the pain comes back. You whine into the cushion, every new inch burning more than the last until his hips are flush with your ass. “What the fuck?! Your ass is so fu-fucking tight, shit! Fucking milking my cock, wanna pound this little hole, wanna fucking ruin you.”

Burying his face in the back of your neck, Bucky was taking deep breaths, completely out of it. He wasn’t thinking straight, not when your tight hole was hugging every inch of his cock. You on the other hand, were struggling, it was too much too fast. It fucking hurt, there were tears in your eyes, but your pussy was aching like it wanted more. Your clit throbbed with need, even when your ass was stretched to the brim.

You didn’t want to stop, but you needed a break, before Bucky could move his hips you muttered, “Yellow, daddy, yellow.” The hand on your neck left and Bucky maneuvered his upper body so that he could look you in the eye without moving his cock. His entire demeanor was different, back was your sweet, caring boyfriend.

“Good girl, daddy’s so proud of you for using your safe word. Shhh, it’s okay, sugar. Do you just need a second to breathe? Take your time, if you need to stop I will.” Bucky caresses your face as he soothes you, bringing you back down. His cock is still buried to the hilt in your ass, driving him insane. He wants to rail you so fucking bad, tip of his cock probably purple by now, but he would never do anything you didn’t want to, more than willing to sit with his cock inside of you until you’re ready or decide to stop.

You don’t know how much time passes, but eventually, you loosen up and your mind goes fuzzy once again, desperate for him to move. You wiggle your hips, rocking back and forth, instead of pain, blinding pleasure courses through you. “Green, daddy. I’m ready, just needed to get used to your fat cock, want you to pound into me.” Bucky lets out the most sinful groan and stills your hips with his hands.

He starts out slow, easing you into his motions, gradually gaining speed and force the louder your moans get. “Daddy, faster, please, harder, feels so good!” You were practically sobbing, loving the way he was splitting you open. His hips and thighs were wet from when you squirted on him, slapping against your ass, everytime he pulled back a vulgar shlick sound could be heard.

He fucked you faster and harder, staring at where you were connected. “This fucking ass feels incredible. Taking me so well, knew you could do it, fuck. Splitting your tiny ass in half. Oh God!” He could feel his orgasm building up, fighting it off everytime his cum filled sack slapped against your pussy. Letting go of your hips he snarled, “Show daddy how much of a fucking slut you are and bounce that fat ass on his cock.”

You whined, but complied anyway, digging your toes into the floor to get more leverage to keep slamming back on his cock. The sounds of skin slapping and both of your moans completely drowned out the ending of Bucky’s movie, not that either of you cared. Panting and moaning, you kept working yourself on him, feeling another orgasm bubbling up.

Meeting your thrusts, Bucky was rambling, not having one coherent thought in his head, “Look at that, give me that ass, yes! Don’t you dare fucking stop, bitch, want you to milk this cock. Love the way it fucking bounces, never seen anything like it, oh fuck!” He was getting whiny, high pitched moans falling from his lips. He couldn’t help it, his cock was too fucking sensitive and you felt too good.

“M Gonna cum, daddy! Can I cum?” Bucky practically growls, getting up to his feet to squat, not missing a beat while still trusting in you. Every time his pelvis met your ass he whined and whimpered, loving the way it jiggled. He could feel you clenching around him, drawing his own orgasm closer.

“Not until I do. Fucking hold it, bitch.” It seemed impossible, but Bucky fucked you even faster, his hips moving at a ferocious speed. He wanted to cum so fucking bad and your high pitched moans were about to make him bust. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. I’m gonna fucking nut. You want daddy to fill your ass up, huh? God! Fuck, I’m splitting you in two. Uhhh. Balls are so heavy, so much cum. Fuuuuuuck. Daddy’s gonna fill you up, have you leaking.”

His hand wraps around your throat and chokes you, hips still smashing against yours, your orgasm barely being held in. You try to talk, get him to let you cum, but no words come out. Bucky felt his orgasm approach, balls pulling up, “Shiiit, daddy’s gonna cum, gonna flood your ass, you ready, cum with your daddy. Right. Fucking. Now.” Bucky cums with a long, drawn out moan. The feeling of his endless load pouring into your ass sends you over the edge and you cum so hard your vision goes black for a second. Waves upon waves of pleasure coursing through you. Bucky’s hips jerk involuntarily, prolonging both of your orgasms.

As you both catch your breaths, you feel Bucky begin to soften inside of you, still plugging your hole, stopping his cum from leaking back out. “You were so good for me, sugar. I’m so proud of you.” At those words you feel your bottom lip begin to tremble. Burying your face into the cushions, a sob escapes your throat, all of your emotions finally bubbling over.

Running his hands up and down your back, Bucky soothes you. This was always his least favorite part, seeing you cry. He knows that you’re crying isn’t because of him, but there is always a twinge of fear that shoots through his body, scared that he went too far with you. Bucky pulls out as gently as he can, hissing when the air touches his spent dick, and moves to rest his back against the couch, pulling you into his lap.

Neither of you care that his cum is leaking all over. Bucky will clean the room later, after he takes care of his sweet girl. You cling to him as you sob into his neck, his hands massage your sore cheeks as he whispers in your ear, “Such a good girl for me, you made me feel so fucking good. Can’t even begin to explain how good you felt. There you go, let it out. I’m right here.”

Carefully, he picks you up and carries you to the bathroom. When he tries to set you down you just cling on harder to him, not wanting to leave his embrace. “I gotta draw us a bath, sugar. You know you have to pee, I’ll be right here when you’re done.” You hesitantly let him go while he draws the bath, putting in your favorite oils. After you pee and wipe, he helps you up so you can wash your hands before sitting you both in the tub.

Bucky sits against the wall of the tub and you curl further into his lap, not wanting any space in between you. Somehow you still aren’t close enough to him, wanting to be surrounded completely by him. Tears are still leaking down your face and even with Bucky’s consuming presence, you can’t seem to pull yourself up to the surface. Bucky’s arms are wrapped around you, making sure that you are as close as possible without him being inside of you.

“Sweets, can you look at me? Want to see those pretty eyes.” You can hear the concern in Bucky’s voice, but you can’t bring yourself to move away. He’s your safe space and you just want to bask in his warmth. “Sweets, please. Can you tell me how you feel? I need to know you’re okay.” You don’t know why that set you off, but all of a sudden more tears escape you, sobs fighting to make their way out.

Bucky’s entire world stops, fear shoots up his spine. He doesn’t know if he could live with himself if he hurt you, if he did something that you didn’t want. He knows that you asked him to treat you like a whore, but what if you didn’t want him to go as far as he did? You used your safe word when it got to be too much, but what if you really wanted to say red, not yellow, but wanted to please him, or felt like you had to please him. “Sweetheart, did I hurt you? Did I go too far? Please talk to me.”

Even though you didn’t want to talk, you could hear that he was about to cry. “I’m okay. Just love you so much.” You could feel Bucky relax under you.

“You sure, sweets? I’ve never seen you like this before.” While some of his fears subsided, Bucky was still worried about you.

Picking your head up so you could look him in the eye, you saw just how scared Bucky truly was. “I promise, Buck, I loved every second of it. You made me feel so good and cared for. No one has ever made me feel the way you do.” Bucky closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the wall. At that moment, Bucky understood why aftercare was so important. Of course he knew you needed to be taken care of so that you knew how much he loved you, but hearing those words come out of your mouth made him feel loved in a way he didn’t know was possible.

Before the water gets cold you’ve stopped crying, making Bucky feel much better and he washes the sweat and spit off of your face and body, being extra careful with your sensitive pussy and ass. All the while whispering sweet nothings into your ear while you take turns kissing each other all over.

Bucky feels ten times lighter when he gets a giggle out of you. He knows that there will be days when you need him to treat you like a slut, but you know how much he loves and respects you. He lays you on the bed before grabbing your favorite lotion to put on, being extra careful when it comes to your sore ass, placing kisses in each spot after he's rubbed in the lotion.

The marks on your face are gone by now, but Bucky still fusses over your skin care routine, knowing you don’t have the energy to complete it. After taking care of you, he climbs into bed and covers the both of you up, still naked but you don’t care. Bucky reaches into the bedside drawer and grabs some chocolate while you feed it to each other. Neither of you say much, but nothing needs said.

You place kisses on his chest and arms, anywhere that you can reach, trying to let him know how much you appreciate him - Bucky knows. You fall asleep first, not being able to keep your eyes open any longer, Bucky moves you to his chest, cocooning you into him before he falls asleep, your head tucked carefully under his chin, legs tangled together, completely protected by him.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky x y/n #bucky imagine #bucky smut #bucky x female reader #bucky x you #sebastian stan x reader #bucky fanfic #james bucky barnes #dom bucky barnes #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan smut #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff

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starboyshoyo · 1 year

Text

Courting, Pining, or Flirting?

Characters: All NRC students x reader (seperately)

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Genre: fluff

Do the NRC boys court you, pine for you, or flirt with you?

HEARTSLABYUL

Riddle Rosehearts will do his best in courting you. Raised to be strict and formal, he has virtually no idea of what love is, or how to express it. The best he got was the fairytales of princesses and knights in his childhood. So he’ll follow their lead to the best of his ability. Riddle will give you his blazer jacket, and take your arm in his when navigating crowded hallways- he’ll even bow to you when saying goodnight, placing a tender kiss on your hand. Riddle might need a bit of a confidence boost before he performs a moonlight soliloquy under your balcony, though.

Ace Trappola, unsurprisingly, enjoys flirting with you. What can he say, he’s a fun-loving guy! That extends to all parts of his life, including you. When the two of you are watching movies on his laptop in Ramshackle Dorm, he’ll tug the blanket away, forcing you to cuddle up to him for warmth. One day in class, a crumpled paper ball will hit you on the shoulder, reading: DO YOU LIKE ME? YES/NO ;) It’s childish, but somehow endearing.

Deuce Spade, ever the gentleman, will try (keyword: try) his best in courting you. His mom didn’t raise a brat! Listening to her advice, he’ll buy you flowers, ask you out on the weekends, and drape his jacket over your shoulders when you get cold. It’s a lot less smooth than it sounds, though. He’ll be a blushing, stuttering mess the entire time and accidentally spill his plans to you before he can execute them. Then he’ll apologize and spill even more of his plans- and alas, the cycle continues.

Trey Clover is surprisingly good at flirting! Trey is confident in his ability to charm people. Even the most uptight of Prefects tend to relax a little around him. Of course, the delicious handmade pastries he often brings along with him are just a bonus. They’re an easy way to strike up a conversation with you, getting you to spill more and more about yourself to him. He’s comfortable to talk to, isn’t he? Oh, is that baked good your favorite? Expect a box of them to show up on your desk within the next week, along with a coy little note: Sweets for the sweet.

Cater Diamond, on the surface, is definitely into flirting. He chases anything and everything within a fifty-meter radius of himself, and giving his posts on Magicam so much as a comment will result in a Hey cutie ;) popping up in your DM notifications at 1 AM. But with a person that Cater truly loves, face to face, he won’t do anything more than stay by your side as a supportive friend, pining from afar. He’s afraid of messing this up. Do you even see him that way? Please say you do.

SAVANACLAW

Leona Kingscholar does all three, in the order of pining, courting, and flirting. Hear me out: Leona pines, but not in a hopeless way. Instead, he just figures that he doesn’t have the time or emotional investment for a relationship. But once the feelings began to grow, Leona gets desperate. He doesn’t want opportunities to slip through his fingers without doing anything. So he’ll begin subtly hanging out with you more, until it reaches the courting stage. At that point, he becomes visibly softer and less harsh around you. He’ll only really be comfortable flirting and being playful with you once you’re in an established relationship, not before.

Ruggie Bucchi is into casual flirting- Well, he’s into it until he realizes he’s fallen so hard that he can’t climb back out. It’s all fun and games to him at first. Oh, you want to pet his ears? Maybe trading that cookie of yours from the lunch buffet would be suitable collateral. You think he looks good in the PE uniform? There’s more where that came from. Want him to accompany you on a late-night errand? Of course! He loves spending time with you- Wait, when did that happen?

Jack Howl follows his sharp instincts on everything, and every sign is pointing at him courting you like a true gentleman. He knows he’s a little rough around the edges, but he’s got no problem cleaning his act up for you. Putting on a suit and tie and using a bit of gel in his hair and around his ears is a small price to pay for your affection. He’s not particularly shy about showing you he has feelings for you, but outright telling you might take a bit more time and effort.

OCTAVINELLE

Azul Ashengrotto is painfully, unequivocally deep in pining for you. There’s just no way around it is there? Oh, what he wouldn’t give to crawl into his tako pot and hide when you’re around. You’re on his mind every second of every day, and he lays in bed every night wondering if you see him the same way. Is he handsome to you? Is he smart? He wants to hold you so bad but he won’t do it until you tell him yes, I like you too, first.

Jade Leech, ever the calm, collected one, excels at smooth flirting. He just knows you like him as much as he likes you, and he’s not afraid to point it out. It’s not like you’re subtle about it either- with the way you sit in a corner booth of Mostro Lounge for hours, just to be able to talk with him after-hours over leftover pastries and tea. You wouldn’t mind if he did this with you more often, would you?

Floyd Leech has his unique way of flirting, just like everything else in his life. You’re just so exciting, Shrimpy! Won’t you tell him a little more about your day? Even just the little things, like how many pages of notes you took in History of Magic class or an answer to a test question or two- he’s kidding, he’s kidding! All jokes aside, Floyd truly does enjoy your company and the ways you spice up his life.

SCARABIA

Kalim Al-Asim does none of the three, surprisingly. He’s so bright it might not even occur to you that he’s interested until you’re already three layers deep. He’s always been a friendly person, so when he begins inviting you to hang out all the time, you wouldn’t give it a second thought. It’s only when you notice him trying to do things for you rather than just with you do you realize his feelings might run a little deeper than just friendship. He tries to be chivalrous, but it usually just comes off as him playing at being your prince charming. The closest you could get to describing what Kalim does is playful, friendly courting- albeit a very unconventional form of it.

Jamil Viper is used to never getting what he wants. Somewhere along the line he stopped trying. So when you step into his life, shining but not blinding like Kalim, he hesitates. Is he ready to take such a risk? All he knows for sure is that he wants you in his life… someday. So quietly, in between classes and in the hallways, he’ll be pining for you from afar- hoping you’ll make the first move, so that he won’t have to worry about Kalim whisking you away.

POMEFIORE

Vil Schoenheit thinks he has never met someone so beautiful before. You might even be half as beautiful as he is! It’s a huge compliment coming from someone like him. You’re also half as smart, almost as strong, and maybe he’d consider taking you out for lunch- but don’t get it twisted! He’s doing this out of the goodness of his heart. (He likes you. He really likes you. Please date him.) It’s not very good flirting, but he’s trying his best.

Rook Hunt is flamboyant and genuine in everything he does, which includes flirting with you, his longtime crush. You have the most beautiful smile he’s ever seen! Would you mind if he admired it for a while? He’ll brag about you to everyone around him, much to the irritation of Vil, who finds it offensive that his biggest supporter has ‘betrayed’ him for another. Rook doesn’t care, though. If you so pleased, he’d be more than happy to walk you to your next class. Anything to bask in your unmatched beauty just a few seconds longer.

Epel Felmier is good at flirting, and he’s confident about it too! A rough and tumble farm boy like him needs a cute thing on his arm to show off, doesn’t he? Don’t laugh at him- he’s trying to impress you. He’ll do anything he can to prove to you that he’s a strong, capable person and your perfect match. Let him carry your books, and serve you in the cafeteria buffet line. When you share a snack together, he’ll lean just a bit too close, letting his cheek brush against yours before pulling away. Come on, look him in the eyes! Or are you too shy~

IGNIHYDE

Idia Shroud has never met you in real life. You’ve never seen his face, but he’s seen yours through the camera of his tablet at housewarden meetings. Maybe it’s the pent up stress speaking, but wow, you’re way out of his league. Best to make casual conversation and repress his pining over a game of online chess, lest he screw it all up in real life.

DIASOMNIA

Malleus Draconia is a lonely soul who knows little more than a life of isolation. When you walk into his life, unafraid of the twisted black crown that sits on his head or the ominous aura that seems to surround him, he has to wonder if after all these years he’s finally found his soulmate. Immediately, he wants to make plans to see you every day, to listen to you ramble about anything and everything beyond the briar walls around his castle. Stay a while and talk with him, won’t you? Malleus is the true definition of patience and indulgence when he’s courting you.

Lilia Vanrouge isn’t one for mere high school relationships. He’s a father and a general! He’s got a teenager to raise and armies to lead, on top the infamously heavy homework load from NRC classes. You’d have to be really important to him to find a place in his ancient heart. Sure, he’ll have his fun with flirting and all, but no one can really expect a thousand-year old fae to fall in love… right?

Sebek Zigvolt is shocked, no pun intended. There’s no way a fae like himself has fallen for a mere human! No, he won’t accept it. Sebek will turn in somersaults and bend over backwards to make any excuse on why he is not in love with you, he’s just a bit agitated today! Ironically, he makes things harder for himself with this mindset, condemning himself to pining for you from afar.

Silver, like his name, wants to be your knight in shining armor- he’s just not quite sure how to go about it yet. He supposes he’ll ask for your parents’ permission to begin courting you, first. That’s the tradition in the Valley of Thorns after all. But when Lilia points out that it’s a bit old-fashioned, he’ll simply agree and go along with whatever terrible plans the rest of Diasomnia comes up with next. Be prepared to be barraged with an awful yet endearing mix of pick-up lines, cheesy love letters, and classic romance songs that this quartet comes up with in their free time. The best thing? Silver himself won’t even be awake for half of it.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

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alastorss · 2 months

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Hello! I'm not sure if you'll be interested in writing something like this, but if your requests are open (and if you're interested), would you be willing to write some fluffy stuff? An Alastor x Shy/anxious reader, perhaps?

a/n: hello!! i'd love to write some alastor comfort fics based off shy/anxious readers but for now here's some good ol' fluff for the soul ♡ (with a mentioned quieter/shy reader)

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

You can always tell when Alastor's smiles are forced.

It's the subtle twitch of his eye, the annoyed little glare he'll stare into empty space with, the way his jaw gets so taut you're afraid it'll snap.

Quiet and observant, you've made it your personal duty to learn Alastor inside and out without stepping on his toes—watching how he grows increasingly annoyed with every brazen sex joke beat into his head from a distance but never actually having the nerves to talk to him.

You think you can read all his little tells by now. How his antlers get a little bigger with every huff of indignation. How his mind is never in the room (he's got a lot of souls screaming in his ears, after all. You learned that, too).

You thought you knew him just by watching, but you were wrong. Dead wrong. Alastor is an enigma, truly one of the great mysteries of Hell. You were foolish to think you could understand even half of him.

He's all bared fangs and glowing eyes right now, a hand squeezing your hip and the other tracing down your face. Waltz music faintly fills the lobby of the hotel where you both stand, but it feels like a million miles away when the static from the Radio Demon is sizzling in your ears.

His smile is impossibly relaxed, not an ounce of irritation in his expression that you've gotten so used to seeing all over his face. You can't comprehend this, can't understand why he's looking at you so softly and cradling your face with so much care.

It's bad enough that he had asked you to dance with him in the first place, and that you'd squeaked out a "yes" before considering the implications of that. He knew you were shyer than the rest of your friends here—perhaps he had been suspicious of you and wanted to get a closer look.

A dreadful chill runs up your spine and you shudder pathetically, eyes screwing shut as you await whatever fate will befall you in the hands of an Overlord.

But your judgement never comes.

Instead, his thumbs gently pull at your cheeks in opposite directions. When your eyes fly back open, you're face-to-face with nothing but warmth.

"You should smile more," he tells you without his usual facade of excitement. "It's wonderful."

You just stare at each other for a long moment, both frozen in place with his hands all over your face and you limply staying in his hold.

Oh no. Oh no no no. You're certain your cheeks are hot as magma right now because of some simple flattery. Then again, you've been watching him from afar for long enough to know that he doesn't flatter just anyone.

You jerk away from him with a nervous cough, but he catches your wrist and pulls you back into his chest. As if nothing had even happened, he guides and strings you along in a waltz once more.

Annoyance, anger, sadistic joy—these are all things that come as easy as breathing to Alastor. But this is a new emotion you're witnessing, with his ears pulled back flat against his head and his eyes avoiding yours even as he dances with you.

It makes you sputter in laughter, head tilting back as you giggle at how embarrassed he seems.

"Thank you."

He softens at this, smile genuine. You'll come to know this side of him, too. You're sure of it.

You don't know why you were ever so afraid of this monster. Not when he's automatically reaching out to trace your smile with his thumb as if it's something he's always wanted to do.

(It is.)

#aroace alastor who doesn't know how to approach feeling connected to someone #🍓 faye's thoughts <3 #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin x reader #alastor fanfic #alastor fanfiction #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor fluff #alastor headcanons #alastor x you #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel headcanon

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cobrakaisb · 8 months

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ciao bella

summary: you and theo spend a summer in italy, and some insecurities are revealed

word count: 849

author's note: the ending is lowkey shit, but i really liked the concept.

“theo,” you called, waiting for your boyfriend’s hum of acknowledgment before continuing. “can you rub some sunscreen on my back? i don’t want to burn.” he grumbled a response in that low tone of his, but you heard the sound of the lotion bottle, letting you know that he was fulfilling your request.

you sighed in relief as theo rubbed the cool lotion on your back, arching ever so slightly as the feeling contrasted your sun kissed skin. he placed a gentle kiss on your shoulder, “relax love.” you sighed again, sinking further into the lounge chair set up on the balcony overlooking lake como. the stunning view, large villa, and established atmosphere reminded you just how rich your boyfriend was.

when he approached you after the holiday break during fifth year with a letter and plane ticket to italy, you were shocked. it was a little unexpected, considering that your relationship was relatively new, so you found yourself hesitant to agree. it took pansy, millie, and daphne’s words of encouragement to convince you that this trip was a good idea. spending a month in italy didn’t scare you, in fact it was a bonus to get away from your own familial issues, and of course, some alone time with your boyfriend couldn’t hurt. it was the itinerary, rather, that made you question your sanity and willingness to go.

you were flying in from london to milan, via muggle transportation, where you were spending three days in a luxury hotel. from there you were going to his family’s villa at lake como, where you’d reside for two weeks, soaking up the sun and rich atmosphere. at the beginning of the third week, the two of you were taking a private car to spend the day in florence before heading to rome for another three days. the remainder of the trip would be spent between the amalfi coast and sorrento.

the whole thing was a lot, and everything surrounding the trip exuded wealth. between the luxury hotels, first class tickets, private tours, designer outfits, and theo’s eagerness to take you on various shopping sprees, you felt like you were in over your head. granted, your family was well off, but not nearly as financially stable as theodore’s. maybe that’s why it was hard for you to truly relax; the worry about paying theo back was eating you away, slowly but surely.

“you’re not relaxing,” he mumbled, drawing you from your racing thoughts to the serene environment. you huffed at his words. “i’m trying too,” you replied. theo could hear the worry in your voice; he could feel it emitting off you like the faint blue glow of a patronus. he set the bottle of lotion down, climbing off your back to sit in his own lounger. he turned to face you. “what are you so worried about, darling? tell me and i’ll fix it,” he begged. you knew his blue eyes were wide and pleading behind the dark frames of his sunglasses.

“i don’t know how you’ll be able to fix it. it think i just need to figure it out on my own,” you explained softly, not wanting to hurt his feelings, or make him feel like you were withholding information from him. (even though you technically were.) by the end of your sentence, theo had moved from his chair back to yours, taking a hold of your hand.

his olive skin was warm and a shade darker than usual, probably from all the sun you’d been getting these past couple of weeks. his thumb rubbed gently across the back of your hand, a habit that he developed as a way to soothe your nerves and anxiety. you sighed, a deep one at that, before opening your mouth to confess. before you could truly process what you were saying, filtering the things that you didn’t necessarily want him to know, you had told theo everything; how you felt like you’d never be able to pay him back, and how you wondered if splurging on you was really worth it.

once you finished, you took another breath to calm yourself down. you risked a hesitant glance at theodore, who’s grip on your hand had tightened over the course of your rambling. it was silent between the two of you, and you were afraid to break it. finally, theo licked his lips before looking towards you. “fuck darling, don’t ever worry about that. you being here is all the payback i need,” he explained softly, his free hand tracing the bridge of your nose.

“theo,” you trailed off, but he silenced you with a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “you’re wearing my ring, yeah?” he asked, gesturing to the silver ring that hung on a chain around your neck. “always,” you answered. “exactly. what’s mine is yours, and it forever will be,” he replied, kissing the back of your hand as you felt your cheeks heat up.

“now sit back and relax.” maybe spending a month with theo, the boy you loved, in italy wasn’t such a bad idea.

#theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott x y/n #theo nott x reader #theo nott imagine #harry potter imagine #cobrakaisb writing

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ozzgin · 11 days

Text

Yandere! Werewolf Headcanons

I've been stalked by the guilty feeling that my Romanian Werewolf boy got a lot of backstory but not much romance or interaction. So there you have it: some headcanons featuring the ancient Beast, a post-kidnapping sequel.

Content: female reader, obsessive behavior, monster romance, mild NSFW at the end, ridiculously older yandere

You followed the gargantuan stranger back into the city, leaving the bloodbath behind as if it was just a distant dream. Admittedly, you’d expected to be dragged into some mountainous cave or an abandoned mansion, not the cozy - albeit a little dusty - apartment on a main, historical street. On second thought, he did function as a human outside of his monstrous escapades, so it made sense. “Is this your place?”, you sheepishly asked while he wiped the thick layers of blood off him. “One of them, yes”, he answered curtly. “It’s central”, you remarked, trying to make conversation. “Well, I didn’t know about it back then. It’s been a few decades.”

Your ears perked up at the words. Gazing at his features, he didn’t seem necessarily aged to you. The deep creases contouring his face felt more like a sign that he’s lived sorrows beyond most people’s comprehension. “How old are you?” You finally asked as curiosity replaced your initial fear. He abruptly stopped his movements and leaned back, brows furrowed in deep contemplation. “I’m not so sure anymore. I was born in the 80s”, he concluded. “That’s not too far back, is it?” You inquired, this time more relaxed. “80 BC, I meant. You do the math.”

He freshened himself up as you counted the millennia on your fingers, frowning in confusion. He chuckled at your intense focus, then quickly looked up into the mirror. When was the last time he smiled like this? The reflection was a foreign sight to him. “We’ll get you everything you need tomorrow”, he continued, still in a daze. What a strange idea, having someone to speak to after an eternity. And suddenly, it occurred to him just how rusted his communication had gotten: “I’m so sorry, I haven’t asked for your name once”, he said, embarrassed. “It’s (Y/N). And you are...?" Might as well introduce yourself to your benevolent captor.

The dreaded question. How did they call him back in the day? He hasn't had anyone spell it out for him, nor did he feel the need at any point to say it himself. Why would he? He hadn't anticipated meeting you. With pursed lips, he searched his mind. Eventually, from the depths or memories, from days of yore, it made its way back: "Daos."

Given your first gory encounter (where he quite literally murdered everyone else), you were surprised to find out he's otherwise a calm and polite individual. Well, he's had centuries to mature, you suppose. You've also noticed he has that rather old-fashioned chivalry to him. He's very attentive despite his stoic demeanor, and often follows with acts of service.

"You're insulting me. I can carry this myself with ease", you'll argue. "I never doubted you can. Nonetheless, it is my wish to do it for you."

As the days pass, your reluctance seems to vanish as well. In fact, you've become particularly cheeky, encouraged by his warm, unperturbed behavior. Maybe you haven't gotten the worst deal out there, after all.

"You know, you talk like an old man", you've teased him once. He was visibly taken aback by your statement, and you could discern a faint blush on his face. "Do I? My apologies, I haven't spoken to anyone in a long time. I'm not familiar with modern speech. Have I embarrassed you somehow?"

He spends his free time reading, though he will frequently take you on walks. It's an interesting affair to say the least. You can feel the curious eyes of the passersby and hear their not-so-discreet whispered gossip. You can't truly blame them: Daos is enormous even as a human. He towers above everyone else with his imposing appearance. To match, his voice is deep and coarse as a result of not using it much until recently.

The ancient werewolf is a living history book. If asked, he will narrate to you important events or details you might be curious about regarding his culture. Once, when he'd been in a good mood, he even shared fragments of his life before turning into a creature. He'd been a high-ranked Dacian warrior, spending his days training or fighting. He still remembers the flag he carried with bitter fondness, yet another irony to his fate: a wolf-headed serpent. It was meant to showcase their way of life; barbarians with no fear of death. They'd greeted the Roman Empire with nothing but a sword and a shield, no shred of doubt.

He might've been betrayed by his people, but the pride remains. The pride of a soldier who's never known defeat. You learned quickly that his beastly form doesn't count as a significant change by any means, save for appearances. The man has brute strength even as a human. You'd once strayed from his view, and a stranger approached with a daring whistle, gawking you up and down. Before you could react, Daos clawed him by the throat. You heard the twist of the skin and the creak of the bones giving in to the immense pressure of his large hand.

"It's the second time I have exposed you to such unpleasant sights", he said, discarding the body as if it was any other garbage. "Forgive me, but I will not have you disrespected like this."

He is very much aware he's taken you away from the world out of his own selfish desire. The fact that you accepted it is more than he could ever ask for. That's what he keeps telling himself, even as his eyes wander to your lips whenever you speak. Or as his hand lingers a moment too long against the curve of your back. Or as he hungrily takes in your scent whenever you're nearby.

He might be unhealthily possessive of you, but Daos will never do anything against your will. No matter how obvious his urges are. In fact, no amount of flirting or teasing will shake his resolve. You will have to be very direct with your approval.

Once the reality settles in, he'll become extremely affectionate, bordering on obsessive. To think he could have you in every way possible. Oh, he's waited thousands of years for you. All the suffering, the loneliness, the anger, they're stripped of any meaning now that he has you.

The city strolls at an awkward distance have since become a habitual excuse to hold your hand and show you off to the mortals. The quiet evenings of passing time with a book now include your merely noticeable weight cuddled into his lap. You didn't expect him to be this adoring. Being touch-starved for millennia counts as one reason, naturally, but there's more to it, so much more. And it all leads back to you.

He is a little taken aback when you ask him to do the deed in his werewolf form. "Don't be foolish. I can't overcome my instincts as well when I'm a creature. I could harm you", he'll lecture you. "Besides, you can barely take it as it currently is", he'll add, smirking at your baffled expression. It seems he's picked up on your cheekiness.

After a lot of pleading and waiting for the right moment - when he's ravaging you in a daze - he finally agrees. True to his word, his tune instantly changes. The tender hold turns into a desperate grasp sinking into your skin, and the thrusts become irregular, almost frantic. His drool cools your burning cheeks as you hold onto the coarse fur, feverish and overwhelmed.

His golden eyes rest on the small human squirming underneath him, and suddenly, he can't help but notice: you have the perfect birthing hips.

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hungharrington · 11 days

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Ok hear me out casual intimacy with Steve!! Like imagine the first time u shower together and u just wash his hair for him! The first time u change in front of him or wen ur wearing an oversized t shirt and like skimpy panties and go over to the couch where he is and sit in his lap it's the moments where it's such so much trust and love low key him realizing how comfy u are around him and how much u trust him he gets turned on

Brushing ur teeth together at his place? Man is half hard already

ohooooo casual intimacy IS his turn on you’re so goddamn right — this is just like, sweet domesticity <3 and steve then gets turned on by it hehehe + fade to black smut

There had been a period of time after you got together where Steve sometimes wondered if you were ever going to properly relax around him. Like truly relax.

Not that he minded in the least! Watching you avert your gaze nervously, feeling your face glow all hot when he calls you honey, feeling the little tremble in your fingers when you hold his hand— Steve adores it all.

He knows it means you like him. And Steve likes you too.

He likes you a whole bunch— like a lot a lot, okay? In fact, if he probably told you how much he likes you, you’d probably melt and hide under the covers and never return. Which Steve doesn’t ever want.

So you’re a bit reserved and Steve’s still crazy for you and it works. But basically, he never really expected to get this.

“D’ya wanna, like, maybe, shower together?”

Steve blinks, his towel in one hand and his heart pounding in his chest. Did you just say that? He blinks again, just to be sure.

You’re staring at him from your place on his bed, probably being the bravest you’ve ever been considering what you’ve just asked him.

“Yeah- yes. Of course.” He stammers out before you can get too shy on him. “I’ll go get another towel.”

It doesn’t take long for him to snag another from the linen cupboard but by the time he’s back, he can hear the spray of the shower. You’ve left a trail of clothes leading up to it. Something warm stirs in his chest.

He doesn’t make a big deal about it and you seem grateful for it. Beyond the odd complaint about hogging the water, to which Steve sticks his tongue out at you before switching, it’s almost like an ordinary shower. Washing up, wetting his hair.

Except, y’know, til you offer to wash it.

I swear to god do not get a boner right now, Steve thinks desperately to himself, his head ducked down so you could reach it more easily. You’re not making it easy for him. You’re paying him so much attention, your fingertips soothing along his scalp as you lather up the shampoo, massaging the skin. It’s heaven.

Steve doesn’t think he’s ever seen you this relaxed whilst the two of you have no clothes on.

You’ve been trying not to be so iffy about being naked but honestly Steve didn’t care if you were forever. He likes you any way he can get you.

Usually, the lead up to sex is the only time Steve gets to see you naked— when it’s all charged air and an eager energy to start making each other feel good. Hot kisses and a feverish vision of pleasure.

But this… this is different. There’s no charged energy, just a low buzz of love.

You cup your hands over his eyes so shampoo doesn’t get in them when you tilt his head back to rinse it and Steve nearly cries then and there. He’s never been so happy to return a favour, letting you lean up against him as he soaps up your hair. He’s pretty sure your eyes are closed the whole time. It feels good, taking care of you. It makes him happy.

Afterward, as you towel off, Steve keeps expecting that familiar shyness to creep in.

He’s not watching, okay? But as he gets himself dressed, just in his pyjama pants, it doesn’t go unnoticed that you’re not scrambling to cover up. Instead, you’re at ease, slipping on your panties and then one of his own large t-shirts. You must’ve stolen it when he wasn’t in the room.

It makes him pause, a momentary gawk, before he remembers to close his mouth. You catch the end of it and a flustered expression crosses your face, as if realising how much you’re exposing yourself. And that just won’t do— so Steve remedies it with a kiss, dragging you over to him by the waist so he can lean up against the counter and kiss you sweetly.

You both have wet hair. Your skin is all dewey from the shower and your eyelashes look extra long when they’re wet. You’re fucking beautiful.

It’s all Steve can think as you both brush your teeth in the mirror— making eye contact every couple of seconds and grinning like goofballs. It’s not productive. Steve adores it.

You’re both half-dressed, you without pants and Steve without his shirt, and it’s so damn homey, so cozy, so in love, that it makes Steve’s chest a little tight, in a good way. It’s intimate. You trust him.

Oh my god, He thinks. You trust him.

His pants grow tight. The flimsy material of his pyjamas hide nothing. Steve holds one hand in front of his crotch and looks to the ceiling for strength, because there’s no way you won’t be able to notice.

You lean over and spit out your toothpaste and then look at him through the mirror.

“Steve?”

“Yah?” He gargles back, toothbrush still in his mouth, eyes still on ceiling. His cock thickens a little more in his pants, blood getting a little hotter.

“Are you…?”

He gives a big sigh through his nose, “Yah.”

He finally forces himself to met your eyes through the mirror and you’re… smiling? Almost mischievously. Oh god.

“Because… of the teeth brushing?”

Steve rolls his eyes but the embarrassed flush on his cheeks still gives him away. He leans over and spits his toothpaste, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.

“No, not cos of the— well, not just cos of the—“ He cuts himself off, the blush on his face beginning to spread down his neck. “Look, you washed my hair and you’re not wearing any pants! We’re brushing our teeth together! I like it, okay?”

In a complete reversal of the usual, suddenly Steve’s the flustered one and you’re the cool, calm one. Your smile only grows at his explanation, some of the mischief exchanging for fondness.

“That’s okay,” You say softly. You press up on your toes to kiss his cheek and wander towards the door. “Do you wanna cuddle tonight?”

Steve’s cock gets harder at your words and he groans, because he knows you know what you’re doing— especially when you laugh a little, a cheeky sound. You’re playing into his in-love fantasy, his domestic dream, that somehow has a direct line to his dick now, which is probably most definitely a problem for later.

“You know I do.”

“Well, c’mon then, loverboy,” You coo.

Steve chases you from the bathroom all the way to his sheets, your laughter louder and more beautiful than anything.

And he does get his cuddles —y’know, after he fucks your brains out.

#jay answers #anon #steve harrington x reader #steve x reader #steve harrington #jay writes #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader smut #it’s not really smut #it’s like fade to black #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine

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chelseeebe · 29 days

Text

we can’t be friends.

a little fake dating situation in which eddie must pretend to be your boyfriend to keep up pretences, but then feelings start to become hazy and now he’s not sure if you could ever be just friends again.

a/n: i’m reading this back and actually not liking it as much as i first did hahahaah but i hope you enjoy!! i just wanted to reiterate my hate for the duffers and the fact that they didn’t give him any other t-shirt other than that dang hellfire one>:(

18+. mdni. smut. mentions of bad parent/s. modern au i guess but it’s hardly mentioned. no use of y/n!

eddie wasn’t expecting to walk in to you so stressed.

it was the usual thursday movie night but you’d answered the door with a green complexion and the look of a deer in headlights.

“what’s wrong?” he perplexes, shutting the door behind him as you continue to pace the living room floor.

you sigh, blinking at him as you stop for a few seconds. you’re contemplating something, sizing him up with your eyes narrowed. it makes him a little unsettled if he’s honest.

“next week, are you free?”

“what?” wondering what the hell that had to do with your nervous exterior.

“are you free?” you press.

“uh.. probably, why?” not an inch of sense in your words.

“you wanna come on vacation with me? i mean- it’s not so much a vacation but a family reunion, but can you come?” chewing on your fingernail.

“when? what? why?” rattling through all of his questions all at once.

you sigh again, frustrated with his lack of understanding, “family reunion, i can’t do it alone eds..” your hands cycle around the air, “josh was supposed to come with me but obviously.. that’s not happening so can you come?”

eddie’s face finally un-scrunches. it all made sense now.

you’d spoken enough about your crazy parents and subsequently just why you’d moved halfway across the country to get away from them to understand why you didn’t want to go on your own.

he’d also been elated when you’d told him that you and josh had broken up. eddie had never liked him, in fact, if were given the chance, he thinks he’d punch him square in the face.

that hadn’t really helped you of course, so he kept it mostly to himself. but if the opportunity were ever to arise, he’d do it. no shame.

“oh, shit, why didn’t you just ask me in the first place?” he laughs, rolling in his eyes in jest as he collapses on the couch.

“i’ve asked everyone.. and i mean, everyone and they couldn’t, i was scared!” your body relaxes, coming to join him on the couch.

“oh thanks,” eddie scoffs, “so i was the last resort?”

“no,” you prod him in the side, “i didn’t think you’d wanna come, that’s all.”

“yeah right,” chuckling as you hand him a beer, “i don’t mind, i’ll suffer for you,” popping the lid off and taking a swig.

“thank you,” you exhale, leaning back against the couch, “really. it means a lot.”

“so what are we doing? skiing? sightseeing?” eddie probes, making himself comfortable.

you scoff, “oh no, it’s at my aunt’s beach house in illinois.. it’s big enough for you to have your own room and shit, you’ll just have to pretend to like craft beer and talk baseball with my dad.”

eddie’s head hits the back of the couch, groaning loudly, “baseball? man, i dunno if i can make it anymore.”

you throw him the dirtiest glare, “you’re not funny.”

despite your words, he falls into a fit of laughter truly not making your scowl any lesser. he knows you appreciate him deep down, given the fact that you hadn’t hit him yet.

the drive across indiana isn’t too bad, eddie only wishes he hadn’t let you control the music for the entirety of the journey.

“just..” you exhale, glancing warily over at him from the passenger seat, “just be normal, okay? don’t let them piss you off,” nodding with every word.

“you don’t trust me?” he grins, earning a deathly glare. “i won’t piss them off.. don’t worry,” turning his sarcastic mocking into kindness.

your eyes squeeze shut before you slide out of the door, doubting your choice to bring eddie along.

your parents open the door with a wide smile and their arms extended, pulling you in before looking over at eddie, obviously slightly taken aback with the man at their door.

he offers his hand out, “i’m eddie, nice to meet you sir,” feeling very judged and not at all surprised, not with all your horror stories.

your dad takes his hand, gripping on tight as he eyes him up and down, “so this is the boyfriend,” humming quietly, “it’s good to finally meet you, son.”

eddie freezes, eyes sliding from your parents to you to find you in the exact same position.

boyfriend?

“uh..” you fumble, mouth opening and closing somewhat like a fish, “yes! yes.. this is him,” chuckling nervously.

oh shit.

his week of rest and relaxation was about to become a week of performing and lies.

you watch eddie anxiously, your eyes speaking a thousand words. praying he doesn’t mess up, doesn’t embarrass you in front of them.

“yeah.. yeah, that’s me,” he nods hurriedly, going to shake your mom’s hand, “lovely to meet you.. miss.”

now eddie wasn’t opposed to pretending to be your boyfriend but fuck, really? he needed at least a week to prepare and rehearse, rather than you throwing him into a week of improvisation at a whim.

the literal second the door to your shared bedroom shuts, eddie spins on his heel, jaw clenched with an exasperated expression.

“what the fuck?” he whispers, rather loudly.

“i’m sorry!” you hush back, eyes wide, “i- i.. i didn’t have a choice! fuck, i’m really sorry,” anger turning to regret as you flop onto the bed, head in hands.

well great. now he feels guilty. you’re almost sobbing when he joins you on the bed, pressing his lips together in frustration.

“hey! it’s fine.. it’s fine,” he assures, “shit, it’ll be fun,” bumping his shoulder into yours playfully.

you sniffle pathetically, looking up at him with tearful eyes, “i’m really sorry.. i panicked,” bottom lip wobbling.

god, you look like the reincarnation of bambi.

his heart pangs, guilt wracking his chest for the slight overreaction.

“i know,” nodding slightly, “it’s okay.. it’ll be funny, you know?” he’s not sure that it’ll be anymore funny than it’ll be stressful, but he’s prepared to see this week through.

for you.

it’s the little things that make a relationship a relationship. things eddie hadn’t ever considered.

like the seemingly insignificant touches and the casual kisses. all things he now had to meticulously plan and prepare for.

nothing was ever too much. a gentle peck on the cheek or a graze of the knee. things no one would really notice unless you weren’t doing them.

you grab his hand walking to the table for dinner and he almost starts cackling until he remembers, now hoping that his palm wasn’t sweating too much.

that night in bed, you turn to face him, tiny smile creeping onto your face, “i think my cousin likes you, i mean- did you see the look on her face when you walked into dinner?”

eddie lets his phone fall onto his chest, flabbergasted at your suggestion, “what are you talking about?”

you hit his arm, furrowing your brows, “c’mon, she was totally checking you out, don’t pretend you didn’t notice,” rolling your eyes in jest.

if he’s honest, he really didn’t notice.

he’d been too preoccupied by you in that damn dress to care about anyone else at the table.

eddie didn’t get to see you dressed up often and the dress was sitting just right, he couldn’t exactly focus on much else.

“oh, are you getting jealous?” he mocks.

you tut, shaking your head, “maybe after we’ve fake-broken up you two can get together.”

“you are jealous,” he laughs, sliding his phone onto the nightstand and settles into bed, “what if i don’t wanna fake-break up?” only half-serious as he says it.

“well then i’ll get a fake-restraining order against you,” poking your tongue out before turning the lamp off. “goodnight, eddie,” he can hear the smile in your voice as you roll over.

there’s a quiet, niggling little voice somewhere in the back of his mind. or maybe it’s his heart speaking.

whatever it is, he doesn’t feel the need to acknowledge it. at least not right now anyway.

eddie supposes that a vacation at your aunt’s beach house would entail seeing you in little clothing but he can’t help the little woah from leaving his mouth when you walk out of the bathroom in a tiny bikini top.

“don’t be fucking weird,” you frown, eyes trailing down to his hot dog swimming trunks.

“i’m not!” he exclaims, still trying to draw his eyes away from your chest, “i’ve just never seen.. them,” eyes widening at your revealing bikini.

your eyes roll to the back of your head, expressing your disgust with a small groan.

the entire day is made significantly harder by your top, or lack thereof. eddie finds his gaze slipping downward and every so often has to remind himself that he’s not actually your boyfriend and he doesn’t have the rights to ogle you.

it’s just hard to focus on a thing your dad says to him when you’re sat in front of him like that.

his limits are tested when your cousin suggests a game of tennis. already calling eddie for her team as you get into position on the opposite side of the court.

perhaps you were right, her unnecessary, constant touching sent alarm bells ringing in his head. not that he’s paying it any mind, too distracted by your chest as you bound around the court.

so much so, he completely misses the ball, letting it bounce off of the court and into a hedge somewhere.

“eddie!” she shrieks, running off to collect the ball.

your eyes lock from over the net, your brows threaded together, “how about we swap teams? you join me,” pointing your finger at his face, gesturing for him to join you, which he does with a smile.

mostly just glad to be away from her wandering hands but also, he gets to prove a point.

“you are jealous,” eddie smirks, hushed tones as he speaks into your ear. you’re so close now, enough to touch.

he wants to.

he wants to so bad.

even if it were just to make your cousin seethe with envy.

“me? never,” smacking your racket gently at his leg, earning a nasty glare from your unhappy cousin who smacks the ball far too harshly towards him.

he’s too hot and bothered to do much after such an exciting game of tennis, walking in stride with you as you enter the large house. blabbering away about something or nothing when your mom announces her presence rather loudly.

“oh god,” pulling a face as she eyes your outfit, “you really should coverup sweetie, nobody wants to see that,” cackling away to herself.

eddie’s floored, utterly stunned that she’d ever say something like that, let alone to your face. your despairing expression stabs him in the heart, choking him from the inside out.

“well i do,” grinning at the lady in front of him.

“of course you do, you’re a man,” the older woman sighs, “i think it’s a little disgusting to just.. have everything out there,” gesturing to your chest, “women should have pride in their appearance, you know?”

you blink, chewing the inside of your lip as you nod. shrinking into yourself as you glide up the stairs. in an ideal world, he’d call her a bitch and move on with his life, however, he supposes that probably wouldn’t be wise.

she tuts, shaking her head at the stairs, “she’s always so offended.. can’t say a thing to her.”

eddie bites his tongue, diverting from what he truly wanted to say to offer some mild criticism, “maybe you shouldn’t have said anything at all,” shrugging as he flies past her and up the stairs, hot on your trail.

the bedroom’s empty though the en-suite door is closed, a muffled sniff coming from the other side. he hates that she’s made you cry, that she’s capable of even making you feel bad when you had absolutely zero reason to.

his knuckles rap against the door, pressing his cheek to the wood, “it’s me.”

there’s a small scuffle and then the lock clicks though the door remains closed. having to console you after the amazing afternoon you’d had feels wrong.

he creeps inside, closing the door behind him. you’re slouched on the toilet, tears leaking down your warm cheeks. it’s a punch to the gut to see you like this. all those harsh stories you’d recalled to him suddenly made a shit ton of sense.

“you okay?” eddie asks, the answer already overwhelmingly obvious.

“yeah,” you sigh, wiping your sodden cheeks, sniffling for good measure.

“you shouldn’t listen to her,” he affirms, perching on the bathtub, “don’t let her upset you.. it’s not worth it,” although his words probably fall on deaf ears, you already know this.

“i know..” staring up at him with your puppy dog eyes, “i’m sorry, she just.. ugh,” snarling your lip, “she knows how to make me feel like shit.”

“what the hell are you apologising to me for?” eddie jokes, poking you in the arm, “she’s just jealous,” choosing wisely where to go from here, “she doesn’t look as good as you do and she doesn’t like that.”

his words crack a tiny smile on your lips, mission accomplished.

“thanks,” you nod, “i mean that. thank you for even coming with me.. i couldn’t do it without you.”

his heart swells a little, or a lot really.

this is a dangerous game, he thinks. wanting nothing more than to cradle you in his arms.. blur the boundaries a little more.

how much more blurred could they possibly get before eddie had to admit to his feelings?

he’s not sure he wants to find out.

on reflection, it had been a pretty good week. at least eddie thinks so, pretending to be your boyfriend wasn’t exactly normal or anything he’d ever pictured himself doing. but he’s enjoyed it nonetheless.

despite a new found, deep hatred for your mother, he doesn’t think the rest of your family were that bad. willing to volunteer for any other vacations you might be forced to drag him on.

nowhere near as testing as he once thought it would be. in reality, the hardest part about it all was that he had to go home alone tomorrow.

as both of you lounge on the bed, the tv prattling on in the background, he smiles, gently elbowing you in the side.

“y’know this week has been fun,” reminiscing on all the stupid things he’s had to do to sell this story.

one night, you had helped yourself to a little too much wine. stumbling all over the vast garden as your family watched on in horror. so eddie did what any good boyfriend would do and slung you over his shoulder, giggling into his back as he manoeuvred his way up to your room.

not only the public displays of affection come back to him, but also the seemingly minuscule ones. where only you were involved. sneaky laughs and glances that only the two of you could understand.

“mhm,” you hum, sliding your bookmark into your book, “it has, thank you for doing this,” before leaning over to place your book onto the bedside table.

“i’ve enjoyed it,” he meets your eye, that same uncomfortable fluttering starts again in his chest, “being your ‘boyfriend’ i mean.”

you shuffle, turning to face him properly, “well.. i’ve enjoyed being your girlfriend,” lips twitching into a smile.

there’s something in the silence, a tension that feels ready to burst.

eddie does something he might live to regret, something so idiotic and foolish that put your entire friendship at risk.

he leans forward, hastily connecting your lips in what must be the world’s most awkward kiss.

you hesitate for too long of a moment, jerking your head back to stare into his eyes.

he’s done it. he’s ruined the single best thing he had left.

an apology begins to form on his tongue but your lips silence him, your hand finding his cheek to bring him closer. eddie’s eyes fall shut, slowly accepting this, that you wanted it too.

he repositions himself, at your mercy as you tug on his hair, now hovering above your body, elbows sinking into the mattress.

he can feel you now, your chest brushing against his, the way your heart rate seems to match his, thumping away in your chest.

“we should.. we should stop,” eddie pulls away, breathlessly panting with your lips still tracing over one another.

“no.. no,” you shake your head, your eyes shiny and full of something he can’t place.

“what?”

“kiss me again,” you demand.

he’s not quite certain he’s hearing you right. fear had forced him to tear himself away but now you were asking for him to do it again?

eddie falters for a second too long, forcing you into kissing him, smashing your lips to his as your fingers scramble to find the back of his neck under his hair.

oh my god oh my god oh my god.

your entire family are in this house and he’s going to desecrate this innocent bed with you, his fake-girlfriend.

he feels your knee slide up his thigh, allowing him more space between your legs. now it’s more than just your chests meshed together, his poor sweatpants tightening with every slight buck of your hips. blood rushing to his cock as you gasp and sigh into his mouth.

he has to pull himself back into the room when your hand slides from his neck to his crotch, lightly tracing over his throbbing cock.

making out could be easily laughed off but this- this was serious.

“you.. you wanna do this?” he asks, gasping for breath as you continue to kiss at the side of his mouth.

“i want to do this,” you reaffirm, dipping your hand into the waistband of his sweatpants, drawing out a hoarse groan from his throat.

your hand wraps around the base of his cock, leaving a trail of kisses to his jaw.

his eyelids flutter, struggling to stay open as you start pumping your fist, thumb circling his leaking tip.

“oh my god,” eddie breathes, jolting his hips into your fist.

this entire week he had been internalising all of these intrusive thoughts and feelings about you and now it felt like he might genuinely cum all over your hand, not even five minutes into this.

it doesn’t at all help when you’re panting and writhing around underneath him, delicate fingers making him feel like he’s flying.

“f-fuck,” he stutters, grabbing your forearm, “you have to stop,” regaining just enough composure to reopen his eyes.

“why?” concern rippling through your voice.

now he falters, gazing into your lust filled eyes, pupils all blown out and crazy. it would be despicable if he were to divulge his embarrassing secret to you.

so he takes your arm, pinning it above your head before starting his descent, a paper chain of kisses and light grazings down your neck and chest.

it’s entirely too intimate for just friends, fake relationship or not.

“oh,” you sigh, head rolling back onto the pillow.

eddie has control now, regaining power without a damn clue of what to do with it. your shorts come down with his free hand with a little help from you, your ankle now comes to rest on his shoulder.

he should feel stronger than he does, rather more intimidated and fearful that he’s going to disappoint.

“please..” you pout, “please touch me,” he wonders if you can sense his anxiety.

he lets go of his grip on your wrist, trailing down your quivering body until he meets your lower stomach. this new position allows him access to your heat, wet and waiting for him.

“shit,” he mutters, sliding a solitary finger between your slick folds, watching as your chest heaves in response. “you’re so pretty,” he can’t help but blurt out.

“shut up and touch me,” you snap, chasing his touch with your hips.

eddie’s not going to deprive you of that now, is he?

circling around your clit, noting the way you groan and grab onto his arm. not that he thinks that there’ll ever be a second time for this.

your eager hands grab at his sweatpants, hoping that that’ll be enough of a hint.

he’s not going to last long, that’s for certain.

fed up with his stalling, you tug his sweatpants down, aiding him in sliding them off and onto the floor with a muffled thump.

your arms fan out across the mattress, glancing down at the minimal space between your bodies and then back into his eyes.

his entire body shudders as he slides into your eager cunt, bumbling through all of the profanity in his vocabulary. watching as your jaw falls slack, wary that you couldn’t make too much noise.

perhaps it was the fact that he’d been brushing off any even slightly sexual thought for an entire week or maybe it was just true but eddie swears that no one had ever felt this good before.

“fuck,” he wails, hips slamming against the backs of your thighs, digging his fingertips into the soft, mailable flesh of your hip.

just the way you grip onto the blanket makes him dizzy, letting his eyesight go hazy, a blurred picture of you sprawled underneath him.

the pleasure is insurmountable, something snapping in his stomach when your hand reaches out for him, gripping onto his forearm.

“eds,” you gasp, just loud enough over his barely contained grunts, “more,” sickening eyes doing all the work for you.

there’s not much more of him left to give, already nudging against your soft spot, repositioning your calf higher on his shoulder to allow him deeper, receiving a sweet whimper in return.

“yeah,” you pant, over and over, fingernails latching onto his skin. his arms start to shake, still holding himself up over you as his orgasm begins to catch up with him.

“shit.. i don’t- i don’t think..” eddie swallows, struggling to stay composed as you tighten around him, looking up at him through batting eyelashes.

it makes his stomach twist, barely able to move as his high comes crashing down, overtaking his senses, sweaty bodies colliding as he collapses on top of you.

“oh shit.. oh my god,” he whines, release painting your thigh, the sheet and even your fucking t-shirt.

he’s not ready for a child but he’s certain that’d have been worth it.

eddie glances at you, subsequently moving from your body onto the mattress. the entire high he had been feeling comes tumbling down, now faced with the reality that you were no longer just friends.

the ceiling becomes incredibly interesting, both of you avoiding eye contact as the silence somehow grows louder.

for a room that was just full of lewd, filthy noises, it sure is quiet now.

the blanket rustles and eddie dares a peek, you stand at the edge of the bed, disheveled and still slightly flustered.

you look down at the stain he had left, tutting quietly, “thanks a lot.. gonna have to change now,” adding a soft chuckle.

“sorry.. cheaper than a baby though,” adding to your banter, it’s indescribable the relief he feels.

eddie watches as you rummage around in your suitcase, no longer shying away as you pull your shirt over your head, shimmying into your clean clothes.

when you rejoin him in bed, the tension is mostly gone, the lamp clicking off, encompassing the room in total and utter darkness.

there’s a further moment of silence wherein eddie isn’t sure if he should bolt and hide or embarrass himself further and say something stupid.

something- someone, brushes against his ribcage as you shuffle, your hand coming to rest on his stomach.

there’s not a word exchanged between you but eddie takes the hint, sliding your hand further over his midriff. it’s a pathetic attempt at cuddling but it makes him flutter all the same.

eddie wakes up sprawled face first across the bed, blinking at the bright light, not a trace of you in the room.

he fucked up. he fucked up so bad that you’ve decided to find your own way home and left him here.

shit.

he clambers out of bed, pulling his hastily discarded sweatpants back on, remembering every last detail of your night last night.

the guilt comes in waves, and then embarrassment and shame jump in to make it worse.

years of friendship down the drain and for what?

he just about builds enough courage to leave the room and venture downstairs, creeping out onto the hall when you come bounding up the stairs, meeting him in the cramped corridor.

“hi,” smiling coyly, playing the oblivious game.

“hey,” he nods, reciprocating the smile.

nothing was ruined. you’re fine.

“i was just coming to wake you..breakfast’s ready,” you fiddle with your thumbs, a completely different version of yourself than the one he saw last night.

“oh good,” eddie blinks, “i’m starving,” wanting to smash his palm into his face the second the words come out.

“great!” you exclaim, the painful cringe coming through on your face too.

the two of you walk down the stairs in silence, sitting at the table with a small knowing glance.

this house is huge. he’s sure no one else would’ve heard.

he’s midway through his coffee when your dad leans across the table, probing the two of you, “so, will you be trying for kids anytime soon?”

eddie damn near chokes on the searing hot liquid, coughing his gulp back up into the mug, combatting the burning sensation travelling down his throat and also up into his cheeks.

why would he ask that? over breakfast no less.

“uh no.. nope,” you answer for him, thankfully.

“that’s a shame,” your father stands from the table, sliding his plate into the soapy water before making his way over to eddie, clapping him on the back, “you’re gonna have to make an honest woman outta her first son,” before shuffling off into the living room.

he wants to die. in fact, he’d much rather the ground open up and swallow the two of you alive than to be sat at this breakfast table.

judging by the look on your face, you share the sentiment.

he’s going to tell you. he’s going to tell you. he’s going to tell you. he’s going to tell you.

he’s just not sure when or how. it’d be unfair for him to unload his feelings unto you at the beginning of the journey, not to mention also extremely inconvenient if you didn’t feel the same.

but then he’s also acutely aware that if he doesn’t force those words out soon, that they may never come out.

he’s just finished loading your bags into the back of his van, admittedly a little sad to be leaving.

it’s like, he could no longer pretend that what was going on was real. that last night might’ve just been a mistake and you want to cut ties here.

your phone blares from your hand, holding up a finger as you walk away to take the call.

eddie rehearses what he’s going to say to you. well, tries to.

i think you’re super cool, how about i become your boyfriend for real?

he cringes at the thought of it, it wasn’t really the declaration of love that you deserved.

the door opening startles him, your demeanour had done a complete one eighty, your shoulders slumped as you slide into the seat in silence.

“you all good?” eddie asks, wondering what had changed in such a short time.

“uh.. yeah.”

“y’sure?” he probes, not entirely convinced by your change in attitude.

“that was josh,” you swallow, looking straight ahead out of the windscreen, “he wants to see me when i’m back.. to talk.”

“oh,” he replies flatly, “wow okay.”

the life he had dreamed slowly crumbled before him, it was foolish to think that you’d just want to settle down with him now. he’d gotten ahead of himself and now had to reap the consequences.

“yeah..”

eddie doesn’t utter another word, instead, turning the key and starting the long, painful drive home.

maybe he’ll throw himself out of the van on the interstate. punishment for letting himself even slightly believe that you’d be interested in him too.

josh is waiting outside of your building when eddie pulls up, smug grin in tow.

tempted to just keep driving, smash into the side of his expensive shiny car and then reverse over his spindly little body.

that doesn’t happen of course.

instead, eddie keeps his head ducked low, muttering a low see you later before you clamber out. there’s so much left unsaid, even a complete idiot could see that.

he doesn’t watch as you walk over to your ex, certainly doesn’t want to see how his hands meet the small of your back and the way you seem to relax into his touch.

not a chance.

it’s eating him alive. even with the windows rolled down entirely, he’s sweating. as if it’s gnawing at his skin, trying to find a way out.

fuckfuckfuck.

tyres screech along the tarmac, his hands shaking as he turns the wheel. something otherworldly and dangerous overtakes his senses as he tears off back down the same road he’d just traveled.

and maybe he’d regret it and maybe it’d ruin your friendship forever but this week couldn’t have been for nothing.

you had to at least know.

eddie’s palms are wet, holding onto the steering wheel with a white-knuckled grip. he doesn’t recall the journey to your apartment being so fucking long but he feels like he’s in this stuffy van for an eternity.

the moment he pulls onto that familiar street, bile rises in his throat.

maybe josh would have sweet talked his way back into your life and he’d get his ass beat. or maybe you’d laugh him out of there, telling him to never contact you again.

he supposes that there’s not much left to lose now.

eddie hops out of his van without so much as a look back, bounding up the short path as the door swings open, nearly knocking him for six.

“eddie,” you remark, phone gripped in your hand. your jaw hangs open, what looks like tears stain your cheeks. “i was trying to call you.”

frankly, he’s still out of breath from the exhilaration of it all, struggling to find his words as he stares gormless at you, “my phone’s dead.. i didn’t- didn’t know.. what’s wrong?” mind immediately jumping to josh.

what had he done?

“nonono.. nothing’s wrong, i just..” you trail off, your gaze not once breaking, “why are you here?”

eddie’s mind goes blank, why was he here?

to tell you that he thinks he’s in love with you? he can’t say that.

“you.. left something- in the van.”

idiot.

total fucking fool.

“oh!” swallowing the shock of his arrival, “what? what is it?”

why are you both dancing around this? he’s sure you feel it too. maybe. that could be the adrenaline speaking.

“nothing.. you didn’t leave anything- i don’t know why i said that.” shaking his head, if he weren’t so nervous, he’d have been crippled with embarrassment. “look, i have to tell you something,” biding his time, hoping your crazed ex won’t pop out of a bush and pummel his head into the ground.

“eddie..” you start, that solemn tone he was dreading to hear.

“no, let me say it,” he tries again, clearing his throat, “i need to s-“

“-eddie,” cutting him off mid-sentence, bounding up to him with your arms extended, throwing them around his neck as you press your lips to his.

it’s almost enough force to knock him on his ass, his hands coming to meet your waist in an attempt to stabilise both of you.

you pull away, lips still pouted slightly, “sorry.. what were you gonna say?”

eddie can’t recall a word of the speech he’d halfheartedly rehearsed. “well shit.. doesn’t matter now,” once again pressing his lips to yours, swaying in the evening breeze as everything seems to fall into place.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x female reader

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ellecdc · 2 months

Note

Hi gorggg can i request an angst wolfstar fic where reader is kind of insecure of her placement within their relationship? like they’re both so close already and she’s a new addition so she kinda just feels out of place.

thank you for your amazing writing!! doing the world a favor❤️❤️❤️

Hey babes! Thanks SO much for the request 'cause truly, this is my shit. Now, I have to admit that I'm obsessed with these fics that have the same vibe by moonstruckme (poly!marauders) and super-clearlysaltybouquet (poly!wolfstar), so really, they're the blueprints/inspiration for this piece

also...I'm a whore for hurt/comfort. But you asked for ANGST...so I've given you only angst and no comfort. If you want comfort, you'll have to ask for a part two 💖 hope you love it!!! UPDATE: part two is here.

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader

CW: insecurities in relationship, feeling out of place, angst, hurt no comfort

It felt silly, really, to feel as sad as you did. You were currently sitting with two boys who you’ve been basically in love with for so long - two boys who have proclaimed to feel the same way about you - and on the outside you were sure this looked like a really lovely moment.

It just didn’t feel very lovely.

You didn’t think your discontentedness stemmed from anything the boys had done in particular, but even seeing the way they instinctively leaned closer to one another when anyone else approached the three of you left you feeling like an outsider looking in.

Maybe you were overthinking things. Maybe this was just your insecurities showing.

Or maybe…maybe…the three of you had made a mistake.

Maybe you weren’t cut out for polyamory; it certainly wasn’t for the weak, and it certainly wasn’t easy being the newest addition to the relationship.

You felt lost in most conversations, missing key information that inside jokes, years of friendship, and living together in the same tower - the same dorm room – led to. It felt as though they were fluent in a language you were only starting to pick up, and you didn’t want them to have to slow down for your sake. You didn’t want one of them to have to play the role of translator just for your benefit.

But then, why were you here?

You weren’t calm, relaxed, and witty like Remus. And you weren’t funny, exciting, and energetic like Sirius. They seemed to already balance each other out perfectly; maybe that’s why it felt so easy to fall into the role of a background character in your own relationship.

There was a brief ‘honeymoon’ period to your relationship; a time of public proclamations, handholding and PDA, dates, and spending every moment the three of you could together.

It was exciting.

And then it was less exciting – not to you, never to you - but it seemed to be that way for them.

Suddenly, it was dates and then them returning to their dorm – back home – without you. It was silent conversations with nothing but a look between the two of them that didn’t include you in the slightest. It was professors announcing partner projects, and them pairing together immediately which was fine, you told yourself, because you always partnered with Shelby anyway and that’s the way it had always been before.

Before.

This is the way it had always been before.

So, what were you doing here, exactly? What were you doing sitting on a blanket near the Black Lake with a book in your hand, while Sirius’ hand gripped around your ankle gently as Remus played with Sirius’ hair from where his head was laying in his lap, whilst Sirius and Remus talked about pranks, something funny that James said, and setting Peter up with some Hufflepuff girl?

You could tell you were being insecure… that you were overthinking this. You could tell you were being unreasonable because every so often, Sirius’ hand wouldn’t just be resting around your ankle, but he would squeeze it gently or rub his thumb across your Achilles tendon as if to convince himself that you were still here; still real. And every so often, Remus would move his gaze from where it laid on his own book or away from Sirius whom he was speaking with to look at you… check on you… confirm you were still there; still okay.

They cared. They had to, right? Cared that you were here? They wouldn’t have asked you otherwise, surely. They wouldn’t be making the effort to keep a hand on you, or their eyes on you. Surely, they would never have decided to open their relationship to include you in it.

But there it was…the truth.

It was their relationship. And they’d opened it up for you.

It should be the second part of that sentence that spoke to you the most, but in your mind and insecurities, the second seemed like the whole truth.

This was their relationship.

You shouldn’t be here.

“You still with us, dove?” Remus asked gently, distracting you from your musings. You suddenly realized that your book you were holding had fallen limply into your lap and you were staring unseeingly at the Black Lake. The boys had apparently paused their conversation to look at you, and Sirius’ thumb continued its tender caressing of the soft of your joint.

“Yeah.” You said, but it came out scratchy. You cleared your throat and tried again. “Yeah, sorry, I must have zoned out for a second.”

Sirius wiggled your ankle. “Daydreaming again, huh? About us I bet.” He teased with a wink.

You wiggled your ankle back at him as he leaned his head up from Remus’ lap, lips puckered in an ask (a demand) for a kiss.

This may be fleeting, so who were you to deny him?

You leaned forward on one hand, the other still holding your book, and pressed a kiss to the black-haired boy’s lips. He smiled into it and let you go all too willingly as you leaned back and tried to focus on your book.

The air around you began to feel heavy before the sound of distant thunder permeated your hearing.

“Damn, I guess Scottish weather isn’t very reliable, hm?” Remus said as he began packing up his things.

“It’s too bad.” Sirius murmured as he began to stand. “I was having a nice time out here with you two.”

You smiled back at him as he extended a hand to help you up.

“We’re still on for a study date tomorrow after dinner, right?” He asked you when you were at your full height.

“Yeah, sure. If you guys will have me.” You responded shyly, hating that you even hinted at any of your insecurities.

Sirius scoffed in response, but it was Remus who answered. “’Course we do, dove. We’re looking forward to it.”

You felt like you should be a little embarrassed at the way your heart fluttered hopefully at the sentiment, but you focused instead on Sirius’ smile and Remus’ soft eyes as the three of you made your way back to the castle.

You hadn’t seen the boys at all today. You unfortunately slept through your alarm, making you miss breakfast completely; generally, you’d sit with Sirius, Remus, and their friends at the Gryffindor table. The two of them were no shows for lunch, so you opted to sit with Shelby instead. And it was Friday, and on Friday’s you didn’t share any classes with them, meaning by the time you made it to dinner, you’d not seen or heard from them at all.

“Hey James.” You commented as you headed towards James, Lily, and Regulus sitting at the Slytherin table. “Have you seen Rem or Sirius at all today?” Of course, you knew that he had, he lived with them.

James seemed to grimace slightly, but the expression was fleeting before he was smiling at you again.

He knew something you didn’t.

“The last I heard they were talking about your study date tonight.” He offered. You could tell he was putting on an extra show of enthusiasm for your benefit. You tried to be grateful for it, but it left a sour taste in your mouth, nonetheless.

“Okay, thank you.” You said as you turned to head to find a seat with Shelby.

“Oh, Y/N.” Lily called after you. “You’re welcome to sit with us, if you’d like?”

You grinned gratefully at Lily as she smiled kindly at you, even though your heart clenched on account of the clearly pitying offer. Was it as obvious to everyone else as it was to you that you were so out of place with Remus and Sirius? Could they all see it too?

“That’s alright. I’ll see you guys tomorrow!” You called as you walked away.

The boys weren’t avoiding you, were they? Surely, they would have said something to you if there was a problem.

Although, perhaps they wouldn’t, seeing as you had clearly been spiraling for some time now and have yet to discuss it with them.

Would they even meet you in the library later? Certainly, they would have said if something came up…if you needed to reschedule.

No.

You were obviously being silly. You hadn’t seen them all day, but they hadn’t seen you either – it was just a coincidence. You were fine.

Except you weren’t fine. Because it was about seven minutes after the time you had agreed to meet them before the boys joined you in the library. Remus offered you a hasty “sorry we’re late, dove” and a squeeze of your shoulder before taking a place at the table across from you, and Sirius pecked a quick kiss into your hair and sat beside you without saying a word.

It was painfully awkward. You’d asked them how their days were – Remus answered for the both of them before he asked you how yours was in turn.

After two more (failed) attempts on your part to make conversation, the rest of the study session was spent in silence. And not a comfortable silence.

It was the kind of silence that had you checking your surroundings every so often. The kind of silence that made you feel as if bugs were crawling over your skin.

Every time you looked across at Remus, he seemed to be shooting concerned glances over at Sirius. Every time you looked in your periphery at Sirius, you could see he was zoned out, eyes rimmed and red like he’d been crying or angrily rubbing at them.

If something was wrong, they would have told you – right?

If they were regretting being with you, they wouldn’t have shown - right?

If they were going to break up with you, they wouldn’t do it in the library of all places.

Right?

Your musings were interrupted when Sirius let out a sharp breath and closed his book unceremoniously.

“Sorry guys, I’m not feeling the best. I think I’m going to pack it up.”

Remus immediately perked up, looking like he was ready to pack up too. “Okay, do you want company?”

Do you want me to come with you?

“No, that’s alright. Don’t let me impede your studying. I’ll catch up with you later, ‘kay?”

I’ll talk to you more in our dorm room when we’re alone, Remus.

“Sorry, sweets. I’ll make it up to you.” He said as he hugged you from behind and kissed your neck.

“Okay, I hope you feel better.” You offered as you awkwardly pat his arms. He gave you a half-hearted smile before quickly exiting the library.

Once his figure disappeared from your vision, you turned back to see Remus still looking towards the way Sirius just left; he was still poised as if he was ready to pack up and go after him.

You suddenly felt guilty…because if you weren’t here, he would be going… He’d be going after his boyfriend and comforting him through…whatever he’s going through.

So now, here you were keeping Remus from where he really wanted to be, and Sirius from having the support that he needs…that he deserves.

My gods, you’ve made such a terrible mistake. How did the three of you not notice?

“Sorry about that, love.” Remus mentioned quietly, offering you a half smile. “He…he got a letter from his family today. He doesn’t really talk about it with people.”

He talked about it with you, though.

“It usually takes him a day or two to sort it out before he comes back to us.”

You mean back to you, James, and Peter…

“I’ll talk to him.”

When you leave me…to go to him.

You hated even feeling petulant about it. One of the things you loved about these boys was how much they loved each other. The trust, the affection, the care…you had just hoped that somehow, you’d get to enjoy those things too.

You offered him the best smile you could muster as you turned back towards your book. You could no longer make the words out as your vision blurred, tears threatening to spill out over the arithmancy calculations spread below you.

You couldn’t keep doing this. Not to Remus, not to Sirius…and certainly not to yourself. You deserved better, all three of you did.

You were being selfish, inserting yourself into their relationship like this; demanding things from them that they didn’t owe you.

“You know what,” you offered quietly, clearing your throat as your voice came out scratchy, grating along the lump lodged in your throat. “I think I’ve gotten enough studying done for tonight.”

You stood and started piling your things together.

“Oh…are, are you sure?” Remus asked like he was willing to argue, but he too was standing and starting to pack his bag – eager to get to his dorm and check on Sirius.

“Yeah, I did some work on it at dinner as well.”

Remus grimaced slightly at that.

“I’m sorry dove, really. The three of us clearly haven’t had a great day. I’ll talk to Sirius, and I promise we’ll all be back in sync in no time.”

You looked into his eyes and saw sincerity.

Back in sync.

Were we ever in sync to begin with?

“Can I walk you to your dorm?” He asked as he made to move around the table, but he paused at you quickly shaking your head.

“No, no I’m alright. I can find my way.” You tried to joke, but it fell flat.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. No, don’t worry about it just – uhm – just make sure he’s okay for me, yeah?” You asked as you walked backwards to the door. Remus must’ve picked up something in your tone, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked you up and down.

“I really am sorry, Y/N. We’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

You quickly wiped away a stray tear that found its way out of your water line and gave him the biggest smile you could muster.

This was better, you thought, let everyone out of their misery.

“’Course. I’ll, uhm, I’ll see you around, Lupin.”

And you left.

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gojonanami · 5 months

Text

BEST PART OF MY DAY - KENTO NANAMI

✴︎ summary: on a bad day, you give nanami just what he needs, and remind him why you are truly the best part of his day. ✴︎ contents: pure domestic fluff, reader and nanami are married, taking care of nanami the way he deserves, making breakfast for nanami ✴︎ wc: 795

“What can I do?” you whisper, whisper in his ear, because you know Kento is having a bad day. You know that he’s having a bad day from the way his shoulders tense and his lips are in a tight line, instead of curled in that small smile.

“Don’t,” he shakes his head simply, running his fingers through his hair, “I’m okay, sweetheart,”

And you know that certainly means that he’s not.

“Are you?” You sit beside him on the couch, one leg tucked under the other, curled up beside him, “because I’m pretty sure you’re not,” you place your chin on his shoulder, “come on, there must be something, even if it’s—“

And he’s pulling you into his arms, leaning back on the couch, your body beside him, as he buries his face in your chest, “baby,” you run your fingers through his hair, “is this—“

“You’re everything, do you know that, love?” His words are soft, but the impact is heavy, warmth flooding your body at his words, “just a few words from you, and I feel my fatigue melt away, how’s that possible?”

“New jujutsu technique?” And he snorts, “should I tell Gojo?”

“Don’t you dare,” he murmurs, leaning up to press a kiss to your lips, and you smile against his touch, tasting the hint of bitter coffee and the faint taste of melon bread on his lips, “how’re so perfect?” And he’s nosing the nape of your neck, pressing sweet kisses.

“Well you deserve only the best, Nanami Kento, and what is better than me?” You say teasingly, and he chuckles, a quiet rumble that makes you nearly shiver.

“Nothing I can think of,” and you’re running your fingers through his hair again and again, pressing sweet kisses to his brow, and his eyes are growing heavy, “if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re trying to put me to sleep,”

“Maybe I am, think my husband needs some sleep,” you kiss him softly, “dream about Malaysia, only a few months away,”

“Not soon enough,” he murmurs, “but you’re all I need, my vacation,”

You chuckle, pressing sweet kisses to his forehead, “Your 5 to 9?”

“With no overtime,” he sighs, as you snort, before he’s looking up at you, “the best part of my day,”

And he’s falling asleep, slipping into the sandman’s grasp, and he only wakes underneath a blanket, in the soft sheets of his bed, morning light streaming in. He blinks sleep from his eyes, a small groan in his throat, as he reaches beside him for you, but only finds an empty space.

His breath catches — where were you? Panic grips him, until he listens — hearing the quiet sounds of pans and spoons clinking, the soft sounds of your humming, as he slowly settles back, easing himself back into bed for a moment, before slipping from bed.

He comes out to find you only in one of the blue button ups you had “borrowed” from him - one of three you had on rotation, giving them back only when you had washed them. You were humming along to music playing softly on your phone, as you cooked — you had seemingly picked up his favorites from the bakery nearby and even were making some scrambled eggs for the both of you.

How did he get so lucky?

He sneaks up on you, his arms curling around your middle, as you jump slightly, before relaxing into his touch, “Kento, I didn’t wake you, did I?” And he’s pressing a kiss to your cheek — you smelt so good, like lavender, apples, freshly baked bread — “baby—“

“No, I just woke up when I didn’t feel you beside me,” he sighs into the nape of your neck, “did you stop by the bakery?”

“Yes and I think the worker has a crush on you,” you chuckle, as he hears the click of the stove turning off, “she asked about you,” and you turn to face him, lips curled in a teasing smile, “you interested?”

“No, I’m only interested in my wife,” he hums, finding your lips in a kiss, his lips curling, “my very beautiful wife,”

“Oh, I’m beautiful? What else am I?” You tease, but then he’s tilting your chin up, lips pressing to your forehead first.

“Lovely,” he murmurs, as his lips move to one cheek, and then the other, “honest,” lips finding your nose, “far too kind,” and then your lips again, “perfect,”

“Kento…” and he’s kissing you in earnest now, his hand cupping your cheek, while his other arm curls around the small of your back, “shouldn’t we have breakfast?”

And he only smiles, speaking before finding your lips again, “it can wait, I have to start my day with the best part of it, don’t I?”

✴︎ a/n: i woke up to all the edits of nanami and i'm depressed to say the least. but it's okay he's in malaysia with us, right? denial, denial is my only option.

✴︎ taglist: @ethereal-softie, @glaceliy, @yumihisusupermacy

#sab [mlist]#nanami kento x reader #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x you #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x y/n #kento nanami x y/n #nanami x reader #nanami x you #kento nanami fanfiction #nanami kento fanfiction #nanami fluff #kento nanami fluff #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction

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poebot · 4 months

Text

good for me. | sub!ellie williams

tags: sub!ellie, dom!reader, cunilingus (e!recieving), over stimulation, nipple sucking, praise

a/n: dude i saw a pic (first one) of ellie that filled my mind with brainrot about nipple sucking like all i could think about was rolling her pretty tits under my tongue and agsjej- anyways. we need more sub!ellie in this damn community.

you had her pinned down by the wrists against your pristine white sheets, straddling her hips and watching intently as her chest rises and falls with each shaky intake of air. her long fingers flex and squirm beneath your grasp as she starts to turn pink under your intense gaze, heat swarming in her lower stomach. she worries her bottom lip with her teeth making you tsk unapprovingly. a gentle hand reaches down to caress her warm cheek before you grasp more firmly at her jaw, your thumb swiping her pouty lip out of her mouth. its flushed and wet with saliva and the soft gasp ellie lets out from the subtle dominance of your actions has you leaking into your underwear.

“look at you. my pretty girl. being so good for me.." you lean forward to whisper into her ear. your tits press into hers as you place lingering open mouthed kisses against the sensitive flesh of her neck right below the sharp angle of her jaw. she squeezes her eyes shut and her mouth hangs open slightly. shes panting out sharp little breaths of anticipation. “nngh- please touch me..need you so bad." ellie sighs out the words like they're a secret, and a vicious smile spreads across your face at her little confession. she was enjoying this. enjoying being toyed with, completely at your mercy. the contrast was striking; like night and day. all the snark was gone from her voice. you wanted nothing more than to satisfy her wish and reward her obedience, but not before making her truly desperate for it.

“where do you need me, els?” your voice is sultry and low, almost unrecognisable to yourself. the innate power of having her in this vulnerable position enflames something in you, makes you slippery between the thighs. you want to make her work for it. to beg you to let her cum. you barely register the way your own hips begin to rock slightly against the front of her jeans. ellie gasps, bucking up into you. the subtle friction of your heat against hers makes her needy and anxious to feel you. she struggles slightly against your restraint, yearning to hold your hips. to grip your flesh in her hands and grind you down onto her, to coach you both to a release. “fuck- please baby, i’ve been so good. i can make you feel good, just lemme-” she’s babbling now, groaning as you increase the speed of your grinding.

“hey.” your tone is sharp and authoritative as you grab her by the chin again, diverting her attention. she’s instantly silent, staring up at you with eager eyes and furrowed brows. it almost breaks you. “relax. lemme take care of you.” your smile is sickly sweet as you lean down to connect your lips with hers in a chaste kiss that has her chasing your mouth when you depart. you finally release her wrists with a curt “stay.” that makes ellie swallow a whimper. but she’s such a good girl, staying perfectly still for you, watching as your hands slowly inch her tank top up to expose her perky breasts. your mouth waters at the sight of her soft pink nipples and you’re quick to latch onto one with a groan whilst palming the other.

ellie’s breathing increases rapidly as she watches you flick her nipple up and down with your tongue until it pebbles in your mouth. your lips are gentle, sucking the flesh softly and overwhelming her senses with the feeling of warmth. “uhhn- feels s’good baby, ffuck” ellie hiccups out, moving her hand to lace through your hair. you pop off of her nipple and blow cool air onto the flesh just to make her shiver, giggling cruelly at how cute she looks. her hair is a mess and her body shines with a sheer layer of sweat, a pretty flush spreading from her face down to her neck. she looks utterly fucked out and you haven't even ventured between her thighs yet.

you make quick work of unbuttoning her jeans, sliding them down to reveal her freckled legs. her boxer briefs are slick with her arousal making them almost sheer. the pretty outline of her pussy is on full display. you sigh contently, reaching under her knees to hike her legs up and spread them. “you’re adorable, you know that?” your voice is breathy as you take in the erotic sight below you, reaching a finger down to swipe through her wet folds over her underwear. “so wet.” ellie instinctively bucks into your touch, whining. “sh-shut up n’ fuck me already”

on a different day, you’d be crueler. punish her for speaking out of line by denying her your touch. but you’re just as desperate for her, and all you can offer is a non-committal “say please” which shes quick to relinquish before your diving forward to swipe your tongue up her pussy, desperate for a taste. “fuck!” ellie yelps out, her head thrown back against the sheets. she tastes tangy and sweet and you moan deeply before sucking her slick through the thin fabric.

“lets get these off of you, yeah?” you pant before shoving her wrecked briefs down the plush of her thighs. sticky webs of her arousal cling onto the fabric, and fuck she looks so pretty like this, all wet and pliant for you. her hole pulses around nothing and you’re quick to shove your face back in, sucking her puffy clit into your mouth. ellie’s hands fly, grabbing chunks of your hair in a fist as she humps mindlessly against your tongue. so greatful to finally feel some sense of relief. she’s letting out whiney cries of your name, practically fucking your face. her free hand grasps the sheets when your tongue prods into her entrance, gathering her precum onto your tongue.

“holy f-fuck baby ‘m gonna cum- fuckfuckfu” you’ve never seen her this needy, so close to release this soon; her voice is high and she can barely form full sentences as you feel her pussy pulse and her strong thighs trap you, warm liquid spilling into your eager mouth. you continue to eat her out through her high until shes tearing up and pushing you away, completely over stimulated.

“hh- shit…” shes huffing out, collapsed onto the bed with her arm covering her eyes. you crawl up ellie’s body to kiss her softly, the lingering taste of her cum still fresh on your tongue. a warm hand reaches down to massage the tense muscles of her thighs and you hold her face with the other, staring at her hazy expression. “you okay?” you whisper to her, pecking the tip of her nose lovingly. ellie smiles warmly, basking in the after glow of her orgasm, her eyes closed. “more than okay. fucking amazing.”

#sub!ellie #dom!reader #ellie williams x reader #the last of us #wlw #ellie williams smut #ellie x f!reader #lesbian #tlou2 #tlou smut #tlou #ellie tlou #ellie x reader

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