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silly4seojun · 5 months

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making out with seo-jun

content tags: han seo-jun x reader, female reader, established relationship, suggestive themes, making out, kissing, touching, humping, use of the word 'cock' once, all lowercase intended

author’s note: my first official post (⌒‐⌒) yay!

———

seo-jun has thought about kissing you since the moment he met you; it's hard not to when you have such inviting lips, parted and glossy, as if you were testing his restraint.

he has caught himself on multiple occasions, thinking just how nice your lips would feel and the way they would slot against his lips perfectly like you were made for him.

the thought makes his cheeks burn with embarrassment. it makes it hard for him to hold your gaze when you innocently ask him if he's feeling okay.

your first kiss happens, and it makes seo-jun fall deeper in love with you. it's slow and gentle; it's everything he expected it to be and more.

he's in a daze when you part, a pretty flush on his pale cheeks and a dumb smile on his face. you can't help but giggle at his reaction, "that good, huh?" he hums his agreement before pressing his lips against yours for the second and third time.

after that, he's completely addicted to kissing you. he can't rid himself of the image of you with such a cute look on your face when he finally closed the distance between you or the feeling of your hands holding the nape of his neck or the sweetness of your lips, it's all he can think about. it causes butterflies to erupt in his stomach and that's when he realises he could never get sick of kissing you.

seo-jun steals kisses whenever he gets the chance. he loves the way you indulge him every single time, choosing to wrap your arms around his thin waist to prevent him from leaving too soon.

he has absolutely no shame when it comes to you. he'll happily kiss you in public and around your friends (he thoroughly enjoys the way you get flustered and embarrassed). seo-jun does get shy if you surprise him with a sudden kiss or any kind of pda, it's so endearing.

your innocent kisses frequently turn into something less innocent. your soft and intimate kisses become rushed and heated, accompanied by the growing desire to taste you and feel you.

seo-jun was initially very hesitant to touch you outside of holding your cheeks as you deepened the kiss. he was extremely flustered when you showed him where to touch your body, "are you sure?" his shyness makes you smile sweetly, "yes— please seo-jun."

you don't have to tell him twice, he'll run his fingers against the exposed skin of your hips as he slips his tongue past your swollen lips. it'll pull the sweetest sounds out of you and it only encourages him further.

seo-jun's hands roam the curves of your body, squeezing just the right amount before settling on your waist, keeping you close to his chest. it's almost embarrassing how easily you melt into him, your own hands gripping the nape of his neck before moving into his hair.

he loves the feeling of your nails against his scalp AND when you tug on his hair, it pulls such nice groans from him. "oh, you really like that, don't you?" if you playfully tease him he'll give you a taste of your own medicine.

he's definitely the type to press wet kisses down the length of your throat and down your chest to the hem of your shirt before pulling away suddenly, leaving you desperate and needy. he laughs so cutely when you whine about how "mean" he is for teasing you like that.

but seo-jun doesn't leave you pouty for long before resuming his ministrations.

the one thing that makes him go absolutely feral is when you're sitting on his lap, all pretty for him. seo-jun's hands rest on your ass, keeping you as close as possible as he presses open-mouthed kisses to your jaw. your gasps and sighs go straight to his growing cock, and it only adds fuel to the fire when you unconsciously grind against him as you slip your tongue into his mouth.

making out is one of your favourite things to do with seo-jun, it's passionate and needy and loving. it leaves seo-jun's stomach in knots when you utter "i love you," between rushed kisses, he'll pause momentarily and smile so bright before saying it back. "i love you so much."

#han seojun #han seojun x reader #han seojun headcanons #true beauty #true beauty x reader #true beauty headcanons #suggestive #winnie writes

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winniemaywebber · 16 days

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The Apple Tree 🌳 • Part 4

warnings: 18+, teasing, oral (f receiving), sexual intercourse.

taglist: @sagesolsticewrites @ginabaker1666 @scuttle-buttle @ronsenthal @groovin2beats @hellfirequinnie

You've been exchanging flirtatious glances with Rosie all night long from across the room. You, Sally and the rest of your gang were knee deep in the usual Friday gossip session; this time in a different location than the village pub. You and Sally had been invited along to the club on base with your guys, and both of you had insisted that Heather and Violet came along too. After all, you couldn't skip a weekly meeting. It wouldn't be right.

“Hey, Y/N, did you hear about Rita? Well…” your attention on her words trails off when you see Rosie look at you once again, his eyes dragging themselves up and down your body. There's a different look in his eyes tonight, one you hadn't seen before. His pretty blue eyes are still twinkling, but there's something more in them…and you can't wait to find out what it is. You turn your head to the side slightly as he winks at you, you biting your lip subtly in response. Two can play at this game, you think to yourself.

Before long, Heather is asked to dance by a replacement named Fred and the seat beside you is empty. Rosie makes a beeline for it, kissing you on the cheek as he sits down. “Sweetheart,” he says, that twinkle still in his eyes. “You look beautiful this evening.”

“Oh, thank you, my love.” You smile at him, his hand upon your leg.

“Push your chair in a little,” he murmurs. Confused, you do as you're told, seeing that spark in his gaze once again. It seems to be swelling from warm embers to a blazing wildfire as he waits patiently for you to stop scooting your chair. It takes your breath away. The second your legs are under the table, you realize exactly why he wanted you to move your chair.

His big, beautiful hand paws even further up your leg, his fingers toying with the hem of your skirt, pulling it up just slightly. You look at him, wide-eyed, trying to hold in a gasp at his touch, sending shivers down your spine and causing goosebumps to raise up on your exposed limbs. He titters, his hand now on your thigh and stroking the inside of it. As if it's muscle memory, and not quite being able to control yourself, you seem to lower your hips down in the seat so his hand hits your covered core, already a little damp. The gasp comes this time, as his pinkie reaches out and very delicately touches you right where you want him.

“Rosie!” You whisper, giggling under your breath.

“What?” he says, totally calm. “What's up?” You look at him, mouth open. He raises his eyebrows teasingly and shrugs before holding his hands up. “I don't know what you're talking about, pretty girl. Come on,” he holds his hand out. “I need to dance with my girl before I walk her home.”

—

Before you make your way to the small dancefloor, Rosie beckons over a friend. “Y/N, this is Croz. Harry Crosby.” Harry holds out a hand towards you and smiles softly, his kind eyes shining at you. You take his hand and shake it. “Hi, Harry! Good to meet you! Rosie has told me so much about you, and your wonderful wife.”

“Oh, all good I hope! I'm headed to go write her actually, but I just wanted to come and introduce myself and finally meet the girl Rosie will not stop talking about.” He winks towards his friend, who playfully shoves him in response. Downing the last of his drink, he waves goodbye to the both of you.

—

As you dance slowly together, his mouth finds your ear, making your toes curl. “I could just eat you,” his voice barely above a whisper. He plants kisses from your ear all the way down to your now incredibly hot cheek, before giving your jaw a discreet nip as he breaks away. Your head spinning, you cup his chin in your hand. “Take me home, Rosie,” you pause for a second, kissing him just once. “Right now.”

“Yes, ma'am!”

—

Crashing through the door of your cottage, you can barely keep your hands off him. This has happened a few times since he had asked you to be his girl weeks ago, but you'd always seemed to stop yourselves from going too far. He'd always reluctantly pull away, your hands clasped in his and say goodnight with sad eyes. Tonight, though, is different, as he doesn't stop you as you go to unbutton his jacket. He shucks it off at lightning speed, you pulling on his tie to bring him back to you, his hand on your waist to bring your bodies together. He groans into you as you run your hand over the bulge developing in his slacks, his hand getting lower on your body and gently squeezing your behind.

“Come to bed with me,” you ask breathlessly, looking up at him through your lashes. “Please, darling.” He simply nods and lets you lead him up the stairs, his hand in yours. Thanking your lucky stars that you'd decided to tidy up your room this evening, you close the thin curtains before turning to face Rosie. Walking back up to him and gently stroking his cheek, you have him meet your gaze. “Are you sure about this, Rosie?”

“Never been so sure of anything in my life, Y/N.” He begins to fiddle with the buttons of your dress, the feeling of his hands on your exposed skin driving you wild as he pops each button open with painstaking slowness. You slip your dress off, letting it fall by your feet and stepping back slightly. He drinks you in, his mouth open in astonishment.

“Oh, fuck,” he says, the first time you've ever heard him cuss. “You are beautiful.” You giggle at him, before gesturing with your eyes to his clothed body.

“Your turn, Major.” Seeing a mischievous flash in his eyes as you use his rank, he unbuttons his shirt as fast as possible, before pulling off his slacks at the same speed.

He pulls you close to him again, walking you towards the bed and laying you down on the plush duvet when the back of your legs hit the edge. Pulling you up to your pillow, his arms cage you in as he kisses you deeply and furiously, his hands all over you, leaving trails of fire all over your skin. Leaving your mouth, he makes his way down your jaw to your neck, his mustache deliciously tickling your skin causing you to gasp and moan. He shoots up instantly, a concerned look in his eyes. “Is this okay? Are you okay?”

“Baby,” you rise up, kissing him again. “I'm perfect. And are you okay?”

“Never better, angel.” Taking advantage of you sitting up, he unclips your bra in one swift movement. “Oh, honey,” He says, looking you up and down. “You sure are perfect.”

He resumes his position kissing your neck, making his way down your whole body as you feel liquid pooling at your core at the sensation of him kissing your skin, his mustache adding just a little roughness to it. Getting lower, he looks deep into your eyes as he places your nipple in his mouth and sucks, his tongue swirling around your swollen bud. Bucking into him as he switches sides, the sound that leaves you is almost animalistic. You clamp a hand over your mouth, almost in embarrassment. He makes his way down the valley between your breasts, removing your hand from your mouth as he does so.

“Cut that out, honey. I wanna hear you.” You remove your hand as he kisses your hip where your underwear sits, the lacy fabric covering your increasingly damp core. He gently sinks his teeth into your skin to grab the material and begins pulling them down.

“Oh, God,” you moan, almost whimpering as you watch him. Coming back up, he gently runs his fingers through your folds, moaning at the wetness. His finger finds your clit instantly, a direct hit with no guidance needed. You continue moaning softly as he plants kisses on the inside of your thighs, slowly inserting his finger into you, pumping in and out before adding another.

“Rosie…darling…please…” you mewl as he looks up at you with mischief in his eyes. Without a word, he puts his mouth on you, his tongue flat to lap you up.

“Like I said,” he pulls away momentarily. “I could just eat you.” Within seconds, you're a writhing mess in front of him, your hands finding their way into his pretty curls. As he pulls away, you see his hair is incredibly tousled from where your hands had been, the ringlets bordering on being cherub-like.

Both breathless, he climbs off the bed to remove his underwear. They fall to the floor as you sit up, eyes widening as you see him rock hard and ready, such a soft, subtle pink color - he's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.

You get up to stand in front of him, both now fully exposed to one another. He kisses you deeply, before sitting on the edge of the bed, beckoning you on top. You straddle him, the feeling of his bare skin on yours almost taking your breath away. He pulls away from the kiss and strokes your face, his eyes softening the way they do every time he looks at you. He smiles with his beautiful teeth and kissed your cheek. “Y/N,” he mutters, nervously. “Y/N, I think I'm falling in love with you.”

“Oh–oh, Rosie,” you reply, stuttering a little. You kiss him, eyes squeezed shut and let him enter you. “I think I'm in love with you, too.” You both groan with relief as you feel his whole length inside you, both giving each other time to adjust, him gently kissing your neck, his lips only just touching your skin. He looks up at you again, and presses his forehead to yours as you begin to move on him, both instantly breathing heavily. He captures your mouth in a deep kiss as you finally, finally, make love to one another.

---

You lay together under your plush duvet, clinging to each other, not bothering to get dressed. His hands all over your skin, tickling your back ever so gently, and yours playing with his hair, his eyes closed, totally relaxed.

“Will you spend the night?” You ask, your hands now stroking his face.

“I wish I could, sweetheart. I have to get back to base.”

“Hmm,” you reply sadly. “At least sleep with me for a few hours. Just for a little bit.”

“Okay,” He whispers, not even hesitating. He wraps himself around you, and falls asleep instantly.

—

You wake up the next morning, alone. Feeling a pang of sadness as you realize, you sit bolt upright. On the pillow he slept on sits a piece of paper.

“Sleep well, darling girl. See you in a couple days. Yours, R.”

As you read it, smiling, you hear the all too familiar rumble of B-17s taking off overhead. Your breath catches in your throat at the sound, sudden nerves bubbling up in your chest as you put a hand to it to settle your quickening heartbeat.

—

A knock at your door makes you jump as you pour your bedtime cup of tea. Thinking it to be Rosie visiting at this late hour, you practically leap right to it. To your surprise you see Sally and James standing there, both shivering in the night air, their expressions forlorn and almost mournful.

“Hey, Sal. James. Come on in, the water is still hot for tea,” you say, as you try to plaster on a smile and guide them into the house. The couple look from each other to you and back again, Sally biting down her lip so hard you can almost see it begin to swell instantly.

“What's going on?” You enquire, the atmosphere suddenly suffocating and tense.

“James…tell her.” He sighs, nodding, his eyes downcast.

“Rosie went up this morning–”

“Yeah, I heard the planes as I woke up, but what–”

“He hasn't come back, Y/N. We don't know where he or the crew are.” You feel the world begin to spin, trying your best to grab on to something, anything to steady you.

---

“Crap!” Sally yelps. “James, catch her!” And everything goes black.

once again, thank you to my two besties that read this over and over @sagesolsticewrites @ginabaker1666 ily!!! <3

#masters of the air #mota #masters of the air fic #mota fic #mota smut #rosie rosenthal #robert rosenthal #rosie rosenthal x reader #rosie rosenthal x oc #rosie rosenthal smut #winnie writes #18+ only

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winniethewife · 4 months

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Alright New Years, New and old shit

Figured I'd update y'all with what I'm working on.

New shit:

Let's do this one last time: A series of Peter B Parker x reader ficlets

Outcaste (Din Djarin x OC)

I've always got your six (Captain Rex x OC)

Bellum Romanum (Orestes x Celtic!OC)

I will not let you go (Frankie Morales x reader)

You knew I wanted just to hold you (Cecil Dennis x Reader)

A William tell ficlet series based on my DDDNE December fic.

I don't know when/if it'll all come out but I'm writing it.

Old shit:

4 chapters left of "It's time that you won"

3 chapters left Of "You can't always save everybody"

It's undeniably real, Eclipsing Love, and Jewels made of stardust are all still fully in progress, don't know when they are ending.

I'm only me when I'm with you will continue as long as I have interest.

Of course I'm finishing my Moon Knight Bingo card.

#winnie writes #fanfic writing #wips #my wips #updates #happy new year #2024

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weirdworldofwinnie · 6 months

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A Safe Way Out

Jonathan Breech x Female Reader (NSFW 18+ only)

Summary: You're a very shy patient at the psychiatric hospital and the newest inpatient part of the therapy group has to be the cutest man you've ever seen, and he takes an interest in you, but he's not quite as innocent as he looks.

Word Count: ~3,384

Warnings: Smut (unprotected sex), loss of virginity/innocent reader, cum squirting, oral (fem receiving), mental illness, past trauma, talk of depression and suicide, some angst, language

Disclaimer: This just fantasy/fiction, I do not own anything from the 2001 Irish film On the Edge starring Cillian Murphy.

Breech, Jonathan.

He was surely the prettiest person you'd ever witnessed admitted to this institution that he could make both men and even women jealous, even though his pajamas were ill-fittingly too short and he had a cocky attitude that didn't go unnoticed by the staff and other patients, but he wasn't a total asshole... at least you hoped.

At the couple of group therapy sessions he attended he was rebellious, giving the always tired (but very patient) Dr. Figure grief through ample sarcasm that made you stifle smirks, but as usual you never spoke much, being selectively mute unless you were forced to answer a question from Dr. Figure. They didn't give any drugs to dope up; the doctor didn't think you nor the small group you were part of needed them, but sometimes you wished they would so you didn't have to participate in these stupid sessions that went in half-spun circles and could just conk out in your room or outside.

You had been submitted here by your estranged parents after a series of concerning events that you had tried to mentally block out, including attempting to take your own life because of bullying and abuse; you were not able to ever acclimate fully to society because of it, which led you to being stuck in this place, mentally spinning wheels while growing more and more wary of the outside world everyday. Jonathan was the opposite; he had a spark of defiance and a fire you didn't have enough oxygen for to nourish for yourself. He clearly didn't think he really belonged here and in a way, you sort of admired him even if he was a bit strange and potentially dangerous... He was certainly an exciting refresher in such a dull, day-to-day drudgery.

One day after walking out of yet another mildly frustrating therapy session, he stepped in front of you in the hall as you were making your way back to your room alone, a curious light in his stunningly blue excuses for eyeballs.

"Hey, you mind if I join ya in your room?" he asked suddenly and you froze, uncertain of how to react. You only ever minimally interacted one-on-one with people you trusted... Fellow patient Nick kept saying Jonathan wasn't to be trusted, but Nick was also kind of a paranoid weirdo that always was listening to his headphones, so what did he know?

Jonathan seemed to sense your hesitation and he grinned, trying to put you at ease or maybe he was just messing with you. Either way, you had to hide your intrigue in case he was pulling your leg.

"Don't look spooked out, I'm just so fucking bored at this place and you're pretty cute, but you never really talk... I just wanna get to know ya better," he explained sincerely, but you still felt wary.

"Can I see your room at least?" he asked innocently and you finally gave him a shy nod, causing him to smile in broad relief that reminded you of the last rays of sunlight splashing upon the cliffs.

He walked along beside you, swinging his arms back and forth a bit as if he was winding himself up, all the way to your room and past an orderly who gave him a suspicious glance, but you gave the man a thumbs up to let him know it was fine. Security here was surprisingly not as strict as one would imagine for a psychiatric hospital and the younger patients tended to sneak out once a week to the city with minimal repercussions. They always came back anyway.

You reached your designated room and opened the door slowly, and Jonathan strolled in after you, sighing loudly.

"Oh, would'ja look at that - they gave you the fanciest room they've got," he commented sarcastically as you sat down on the small bed, tucking your knees up to your chest and he stood, surveying you and scene for a second and then joining to sit, copying your posture. He fiddled with his slippers for a minute and then turned to you curiously.

"So lemme get this right: You only talk when or if you have ta?"

"Yeah," you mumbled and he nodded sagely.

"That's an interesting way to deal with people. Don't blame ya, lot of wanks out there not worth being spoken to. What's your name - I mean, I know it from the meeting, but can you say it?" he asked, however unlike any doctor, it wasn't clinical or judgmental. He truly seemed interested and so you whispered your first name aloud to the floor.

"It's a nice name. How old are you?" You could hear the smile in his deep voice.

"T-Twenty two," you responded with a slight stutter, too fluttery to be able to meet his gaze.

"Fuck, that's older than me... I'm nineteen, but you know already know that. You ever been anywhere outside of Dublin?"

You looked away, not answering. If you ever had, you'd been too small to remember.

"How long you've been here?" he asked curiously and you splayed your hand, palm up towards him.

"Five weeks or five years?"

"Years," you whispered and he was silent for a few minutes, picking at the hem of his baby blue pajama pants.

"So much for the road to recovery, eh?" he scoffed and you just shrugged.

He put his legs down, feet flat on the floor and crossing his arms tight to his chest, wearing that oversized silly orange patterned sweater of his. He sniffed and bit his lip, glancing up at the bare ceiling as if he would find the answers to existence there.

"Something happened to you, I know. Shit, something happened to us all here. It's okay if you don't wanna or can't talk 'bout it. But I can't figure out if you have the same thoughts me and the others have? You know, what the doc locks us up for... suicidal? Like there's no fucking point to this blip of existence? And they think we're nuts, but we just seein' the truth."

You slowly pulled up your sleeve, exposing the faint scars etched into your left wrist, remnants of cutting attempts to escape life before you had been dumped off in this place indefinitely. You had never tried it since and were now an adult and could seek the means to leave if you truly wanted to, but there was nothing out there in the world for you.

"See this pinky finger?" Jonathan asked suddenly, poking up his baby finger and you nodded, interested.

"I was just trying to get rid of what was left of me old Da and the damn car didn't do the job right. Could've broken neck but all I broke was me baby finger. Least you've got the scars there to prove survivin'." He sighed heavily, almost disappointed, and you spoke the first sentence you had in days, your voice hushed from disuse.

"Why do ya wanna die?"

He blinked, giving you a meaningful glance and his full lips stretched into a tight ironic smile.

"I don't want to die; I don't want to be alive. I'm just a fucking living ghost, we all are... Doesn't that realization scare the wits outta ya?"

He looked away at the wall, blinking as the drippy tears escaped and his mouth quivered in quiet anguish, his dewy face scrunching up. You reached over and touched his cheek, catching a tear rolling down his smooth pallid skin and wiping it off tenderly. He sniffled, embarrassed, and gently took your wrist and whispered emphatically.

"I like you, Y/N. You don't freak out or talk down to me or bitch about your own problems. You're unique, but I'm thinking ya too cute to be truly crazy."

"Cute?" you repeated and he grinned at hearing your high breathy voice.

"Don't be so afraid to talk, you got a pretty voice. Bet nobody be calling ya cute in a long time, right?"

You shrugged sheepishly and he tilted your chin up with his fingers, tracing the outline of your face fondly and you blushed, not used to being touched by anyone like that. It was... comforting, a feeling you had been very numb to for some time. His pinkish lips parted and he tilted his head slightly, mouth gaping in anticipation for a kiss but you froze, unsure and not wanting to take the lead.

"I want a kiss," he murmured and the way he said it made you draw closer, trusting the process. He closed his eyes and blindly groped your lips, sucking, and then his tongue dove in with a surprising force, swirling around your mouth and he gripped the sides of your head in a vice, cutting off any resistance... Not that you were repulsed in any way once the initial shock wore off.

He broke away after several seconds, gasping and licking his lips hungrily.

"Mm, didja like that?"

Your cheeks became pink and he glanced over your head at the windowpanes being pattered with a steady rain and it was growing dimmer outside, evening approaching with a cloaking storm, and it reflected in the dull colors of the room that was becoming muted of natural light.

"Can I show you something?" he asked huskily, shifting on the bed restlessly.

You ducked your chin in affirmative, heart fluttering in uncertainty as he reached to yank his sweater and pajama shirt over his head, leaving him with a bare chest. You stared, fascinated in his anatomy; it had been so long since you'd seen anyone without some clothing on. He grinned, pointing awkwardly to your own chest.

"So, uh, now this... this'll be the part where you remove your garment," he instructed and cautiously, you unbuttoned your pj's and you never wore a bra, so soon he was facing your naked breasts with your nipples hardening from the airy exposure.

"Really cute," he breathed, gently putting a finger to your right nipple and pressing lightly, stroking around the center and then drawing a line to the other breast, doing the same to that one and you shivered, feeling a strange pull in your stomach that was borderline butterflies. He leaned back, bouncing up slightly on the bed and kicking his slippers off to the floor.

"But hold on, there's more to see," he said with a verging mischievous excitement. You'd never seen him look so genuinely joyful and as he tugged down his pj bottoms, you blinked, faced with a protruding bugle in his white underwear.

After a beat, he removed his boxers, springing forth a stiff appendage that you'd never in the flesh on a man, well, in its erect state at least.

"Want to touch it? It doesn't bite," Jonathan joked with a lazy grin and you cautiously extended a hand and put your fingers on the glistening tip. It was definitely moist and firmly solid, and he shuddered through a breath of arousal.

"Wet," you observed and he laughed, scooting closer so his penis was resting in your hands.

"I like it when you touch me there, don't stop," he begged and you felt him up, amused at his reaction.

He twitched in your palms as you ran careful fingers up his fleshy length and to his balls, lightly petting the coarse dark hair nesting around them, and he shivered pleasurably, resisting the urge to already ejaculate.

"Feelin' good?" you asked fondly, seeing his mouth agape and eyes nearly rolling back.

"Too fuckin' good, need to stop before I cum too quick. Wanna enjoy this... Lemme have at that pussy of yours now instead of using me dick, m'kay?"

You could tell it wasn't a question, but you weren't sure what he meant entirely. You eased off his genitalia, cock dripping slightly, and sat back, waiting for him to elaborate.

"Here," Jonathan murmured and his hands went to your waist, teasing down the waistband of your pj's and pushing the pants down your legs, letting you wiggle out and kick them to the floor, along with your slippers. He stared for a full ten seconds at your womanhood, biting his lip and swirling his tongue around his mouth, before he bent down and spread your legs apart. You tried to ask him what was going to happen, but he dove in already, tongue flicking at your delicate folds with attempted precision. You gasped audibly at the new sensation and he clamped hands down on your thighs, clinging on as he maneuvered his thick tongue faster and you grabbed at a fistful of his hair, shaking from the unfamiliarity and equal anticipation as your body seemed to take control of natural instincts and budding arousal grew stronger.

He just wanted to warm you up though, and he withdrew his tongue soon, lips glistening with a tiny smear of discharge. Your bare chest rose and fell in rhythm as he surveyed the fresh terrain, just aching for more. You very well might be a complete virgin and that prospect tantalized him yet also privately frightened him of messing up. Of course he'd been with girls before, but they weren't this sheltered and sweet. He may corrupt you and alter the course of this extremely new friendship, which in his mind was always meant to become more of a relationship; the moment he saw you he knew he needed to get in your pants.

"Eh, give it a go," Jonathan told himself forcibly and his finger jerked onto your entrance, worming in needily and making you squeak in surprise. He shushed you, zipping his lips with his free hand, giving you a clear message that it wasn't wise to make unusual noises. Even though it wasn't like there was cameras in the rooms, one couldn't be too careful. If Dr. Figure found out his newest unstable patient, the same one that pledged not to kill himself before New Year's Eve, was somewhat taking advantage of a virgin he just met in her own room, the doc would be most displeased.

Nevertheless, whimpers escaped from your throat as he pressed further to your clit and moved another finger to join the first, uncomfortably stretching into your walls. Despite the stinging pain, you felt an decent amount of wetness pooling from your vagina, almost like peeing, and clenched reflexively, hitting his knuckles.

"Oh, I'm thinking it's ready," he whispered impatiently, wriggling his digits away with a squelch and wiping your light drizzle of cum on his cock.

Before you could react, he adjusted position and slid on top of you, pressing his body down onto your bare one and rubbing his full cock in-between your thighs.

You gasped when he began to shove in rather roughly, squirming into your tight unbroken hole and you looked up at his face, watching his hair askew slightly and you noticed a scar above his eyebrow you hadn't noticed before. You wrapped your arms around his neck, afraid to get pinned underneath him, and tried to buck and roll with the motion, but it was getting painful.

"Hurts," you whimpered into his ear as he thrusted further.

"Not gonna hurt in a minute, baby," he whispered, too in heat to stop and consider much else and he clapped a hand over your mouth to stifle any more alarming noises.

"C-Can't go-go all the way in," he panted, his skin slapping yours and rocking the whole small bed.

Sure enough, the pain became more bearable though the more he worked you and pleasure eventually overturned it altogether, the bursting bloom of an orgasm that was very likely the best feeling that had ever happened to you. You sank your mouth on his shoulder to stifle a cry, careful to not bite too deeply, and then mewled into his neck, panting heavily along with him and digging your fingers into his brown scrubby sideburns and floppy hair.

"Mm, fuc-fucking good, ya likin' it, eh?" Jonathan choked out in a whisper and you couldn't respond, too taken by this incredible euphoria and the way his cock flexed inside close at your cervix. You weren't sure how long he could stay in without it becoming too uncomfortable, but he lifted up slightly, grunting softly at his own arousal and effort.

He pulled out just in time, finishing outside by squirting hot ropes of milky cum all over your vagina, stomach, and legs. The bedsheets took a few splatters as well and he heaved in relief as you laid there, utterly stunned at his sexual performance. You had squirted a little bit too and it had intermixed with his juices that you couldn't tell which was from whom. It was so intimate and gross and a big part of you absolutely loved it, having never been in such a situation before... It was exciting and playful.

He swiped two fingers through the fluids and spread it on your thighs further, encouraging you to feel it as well and you giggled at him taking your own fingers and guiding them up to his face, dotting his chin with cum.

Jonathan then sat back on his haunches and admired you, catching his breath and listening to the steady patter of rain. You rolled over onto your side and your eyes widened at a couple spots of blood on the sheets and he looked down in causal observance.

"Ah, that'd be normal, don't worry," he assured with a chuckle.

"Though, uh, maybe we'd better try to hide it case they come collect the sheets tomorrow," he realized on second thought.

"I say I been bleeding, on my cycle," you offered as an explanation.

"Yeah, that'd be good cover," he agreed and climbed off, picking up his clothing and shimmying back into the pajamas and sweater.

"Look, I'll get us some towels or somethin' from the bathroom," he said, walking quietly to the door and opening it with a peering glance out, but the coast was clear. Most patients should be in their rooms by now anyhow.

You relaxed in a post-orgasmic trance while he was gone, listening to the dripping weather outside and wondering how you'd be able to be normal around him tomorrow.

The door squeaked open softly a couple minutes later and Jonathan came back inside with a bundle of torn sheets of toilet paper clutched in his hand.

"Couldn't get towels, so I took some shit paper that'll have ta do instead," he announced with dry amusement and he used it to wipe you clean of the wet mess and you thanked him quietly, grateful to be dry again for it had become rather cold and tingly on your skin. You automatically flinched a fraction when he wiped at your folds, as you were raw and sore, but he was fairly gentle. When he finished, Jonathan moved in very close as if for a kiss, but only whispered near to your ear, tickling your earlobe with his warm breath.

"Don't tell anyone about what we did... just a little secret, m'kay? Though I guess you wouldn't be blabbin' to anyone else anyway," he chuckled darkly, but it wasn't mean.

"Maybe we can see each other again?" he proposed as he balled up the soiled toilet paper and retreated back towards the door.

"Okay, Jonathan," you whispered in reply and he flushed at the sound of his name on your lips.

"I think you'll be my new therapy, better than anything that wanker of a Freud psychiatrist can offer." He paused, shuffling his feet and then glanced up daringly, determination in his blue orbs.

"We'll find a way out soon, a safe way out, me and you and Rachel and Toby... and I'll show you how to have a good time at the pub, eh? Like the sound of that?"

You only smiled as he turned to exit, but then abruptly paused and bit his lip as he looked back at you with a yearning, like what the two of you had just done still wasn't enough.

"Abair do phaidreacha agus codhladh sámh," he spoke in Gaelic and you translated back softly with a meaningful smile.

"Say your prayers and sleep well."

With a dip of his head and smug, yet almost childlike smile, Jonathan ducked out the door and was gone for the night.

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thoughtkick · 7 months

Quote

Sometimes the smallest things take the most room in your heart.

Winnie the Pooh

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resqectable · 2 months

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Sometimes the smallest things take the most room in your heart.

Winnie the Pooh

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stay-close · 3 months

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I think we dream so we don’t have to be apart for so long. If we’re in each other’s dreams, we can be together all the time.

A.A. Milne // Winnie-the-Pooh

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unrelatedghosts · 3 months

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These shits own my brain, one of them more than the other.

Looking at you Augustine. Get out of my head. /j

#cold front #Augustine Orlov #winnie bosko #your honour i love them #cold front game #studio investigrave #pssssst fanfic writers you should totally go and write more cold front fics because theres only about 4 really good ones #the rest are shitty unfinished oneshots #ive read all of them.#im desperate #please #ratkingart #digital art #hell yeah

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perfectfeelings · 5 months

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If there ever comes a day when we can't be together, keep me in your heart, I'll stay there forever.

Winnie the Pooh

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jadewritesficshere · 11 months

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Sitting Pretty

This is just pure filth like barely a plot ok 😫🥴

Eddie Munson x Female!reader

18+ONLY

Warnings: pet names (baby, pretty girl), slight degradation and condescending language (use of slut) (this really isn't degradation in my mind but that's cause I'm used to a lot worse so technically it is but), boot riding, squirting

Eddie dropped the box on the coffee table with a loud thud. It landed next to the other boxes he had carried, and the one you had. After a long day of work, he was tired. He wanted to sit down, relax, and do absolutely nothing. Of course, when you called and said you needed help moving boxes, he came. He knew he was entirely fucked. Wrapped around your fingers. You could tell him to jump and he'd ask how high.

Eddie pushed a strand of hair out of his face, it briefly getting caught on his fingers, making him shake his hand to get it unstuck. He glared at the partially grey hair still wound around his fingers (you said it made him look distinguished and metal. He couldn't complain too much at that). You set your own box on the table and smiled at him,"Thanks Eds, I know you're tired. It means a lot to me you would do this." Eddie hummed,"mhm. What is this stuff anyways?" "Oh, my uncle and aunt were getting rid of a bunch of stuff, so they gave it to my parents, who got rid of more stuff, aaaannnd dumped it on me," you shrugged," I'll go through it and see if there is anything good, then send it to the secondhand store."

Together, you and Eddie started going through the boxes. Eddie pretended to be wounded finding a dungeon master's guide, you found a harmonica and attempted to play a Corroded Coffin song (which had Eddie wheeze laughing and joking about adding a harmonica solo to their next single), he had tried on a pink jacket at your insistence while you had put on a hat that didn't fit (both of you traded items and agreed they looked better on each other then yourselves before promptly tossing the items back in the box), and then you struck gold.

You pulled out a pair of light brown leather cowboy boots. The intricate stitching on the side had caught your eye at the bottom of the box. The tips of the shoes slightly pointed and squared off. You blink at them and hand them to Eddie. Eddie looks at them before scoffing," Nope, those will squish my feet. You see the ends of them?" You roll your eyes," Eddie, if they hurt people's feet why would cowboys wear them? They work on their feet all day!" Eddie was tempted to tease you and say cowboys aren't real, but then you pout at him. The pout making your lips stand out caused him to hesitate. "Please?" He sighed and couldn't help but give you a quick kiss before grumbling and sitting to put the boots on. He could hear your faint cheers as he sat on the recliner.

Your focus was on the box in front of you until you heard Eddie clear his throat and ask,"Well, what do ya think?" You turned and-

Damn.

Eddie stood there with his hands on his hips. Your eyes trailed over him. His curly hair was frizzy from the humidity and a long day of working and sweating at the auto shop. His skin pale, save for a smear of oil on his cheekbone. His tank top showed off his arms beautifully, muscles straining, his bicep wrapped from a new tattoo he had gotten. The tank top tight against his skin, showing you his waist. You could see the bump at his belly button where his piercing was. His jeans were slightly loose, the only light wash pair he owned that he threw on when he hadn't done the laundry. Those stupid cowboy boots sat on his feet, the slight heel giving him extra height. He turned and held his arms out, striking a few poses. They weren't heels, but they made his ass pop (God, now you wanted to see him in heels). The light jeans making his ass look bigger, perfect to hold. Slap even.

"Ya know, they actually are kinda comfortable," Eddie turned back to face you with a smile," they don't- oof!" Eddie lands on the recliner with a grunt from you pushing him. He glares at you," you have to quit doing that! You're gonna strain my back or some shit." "Hm...stop being so fuckable then," you climb on top of his lap and lean close to his ear to whisper," besides, you like it." Eddie clears his throat and grasps your hips. You roll your hips slightly into his, watching him inhale sharply. The scruff of his unshaved jaw beckons you forward, kissing it lightly before trailing down his neck.

You nip and suck at his neck, smirking as he tilts his head to give you better access. His hands that firmly grasp your hips, shift to grab your ass instead. You hum as you pull back, staring at the glistening neck and the lovely purple mark you left. It may be childish to leave a hickey, but you couldn't help but want to mark Eddie up, adding shades of purple and red near his existing tattoos. Eddie's eyes are blown, his pale face flushed a deep red. You shift on top of him, rolling your hips into his again, feeling his hardening length. The feeling of you grinding against him makes him groan. Unbuttoning his jeans, you awkwardly try to unzip them, leaning back into Eddie's hands. He takes that moment to squeeze your ass. You whimper at the feeling and lean forward to kiss him, thoughts of removing his pants forgotten.

His lips are soft, slightly chapped, but still so plush against yours. Your mouths move in tandem, tongues darting out. Eddie licks into your mouth, groaning as he takes control. He sucks on the tip of your tongue before pulling back. Both of you taking deep breaths. "Take these off baby," Eddie mumbles, tugging at the hem of your shorts. You nod and clamber off him.

You push your shorts and panties down, balancing a hand on Eddie's knee as you step out of them. You go to get back on Eddie but he stops you," Now hold on, baby." You let out a whine in annoyance. Eddie chuckles and clicks his tongue at you," You seem all pent up, what's got you like this?" "You, now let me on-" "Nah, I think it's something else. Like my boots, Baby?" You nod emphatically, attempting to straddle Eddie again, but he puts his leg out in front of you. The sole of his boot presses against your stomach, and he pushes you back lightly. "Prove it pretty girl."

You pause and tilt your head slightly before grasping Eddie's boot covered ankle. Eddie nods to his foot and taps your stomach with the sole. You step back and bend at the hips, eyes locked with Eddie's, and kiss the tip of the boot. He chuckles and motions you with a finger to continue. You give the boot another kiss, and another. The leather firm against your mouth. Eddie smirks," You can do better then that." "I'm not licking the boot." You stand up and drop Eddie's foot with a thud. Eddie relaxes back spreading his legs, "Who said anything about licking? What's that saying...save a horse, ride a cowboy?"

You blink at him as your mouth falls open. Eddie taps the boot against the hardwood ground, causing clicks to echo. "Go on pretty girl." You can feel your arousal slowly drip down your thighs at the thought of Eddie's request. It was demeaning, dirty, and damn if it didn't delight you. You slowly kneel at Eddie's feet, lowering yourself until your core hit the leather.

The fabric was stiff and slightly rough against your pussy. Your arousal dripping onto the boot, causing it to slicken and make it easier to move. You look up from where you're situated to look at Eddie. You can't help the moan that escapes at the site of him. The once slightly baggy jeans are now very filled out from his bulge. One hand resting on it, squeezing lightly. The top of his unbuttoned jeans showing off his happy trail. The opal belly button piercing glinting in the light. The tattoo of the dragon above the jewelry moving with every deep breath he takes. A hickey on his pec from last week. The rest of his tattoos scattered about, glistening from sweat. The scruff on his jaw and neck. The grey hairs at his temples. The smirk on his face, even though it is flushed. The demeaning look he gives you.

You grind against the boot, faltering slightly under his gaze. "Look at you, sitting pretty," Eddie coos at you, patting your head. He knows you hate that, making you feel small. Stupid. "Such a good slut, making my boots all wet." His words make you clench around nothing, throbbing with want.

You buck your hips quicker against his boot. You shift angles slightly and moan as the boot rubs against your clit. The sensation is too much. The pleasure invades your brain, coherent thoughts gone. You feel the pressure building in your lower stomach. A tingly warmth spreading out from your core. "Fuck I'm-" your breath hitches and your hips fumble losing rhythm. "Come for me baby," Eddie grasps your jaw firmly, tilting your head up to face him," Drench my boots like the good slut you are, pretty girl." You gasp as the pressure builds to a crescendo. Your eyes close and you moan head falling back in pleasure. Lights flash behind your eyes as euphoria spreads throughout your limbs. You distantly feel the wetness gush as your hips buck wantonly. Your brain goes fuzzy with static from euphoria. You briefly hear Eddie moan a fuck.

You come back down to earth, loosening your grip on Eddie's thighs. You hadn't even realized you were gripping them. You scoot away from his boot, still on your knees. The light brown leather is soaked, turning a dark brown. A puddle of your release is on the boot, making you feel warm from embarrassment.

"Fucking hell...you squirted," Eddie shakes his head and chuckles. You stand on shaky legs, Eddie helping hold you in place. You glance down at the puddle slowly dripping off his shoe and onto the floor. "Can I ride you now?" You ask saccharinely.

"You're gonna have to give me a minute," Eddie's eyes dart away from yours, clearing his throat. He shifts and you glance at the movement. His jeans are slightly loose again. The light denim jeans having turned dark at a wet spot. "Made me come like a fucking teenager," Eddie stands grabbing your hand. He tugs on your arm, leading you towards the bedroom.

You were definitely keeping the cowboy boots.

#Is this the same Eddie from Wrecked yes yes it is will I ever write a part 2 to that uh maybe #I love this older Eddie with a belly button piercing he has invaded my brain and taken up residence in my heart #I realized after I finished this you are basically doing a Winnie the Pooh in over half of this #You really did soak his shoes making them shine #Anyways no Eddie isnt a cowboy but he could be he has the swagger for one #This isn't even really degradation in my mind but I know it is to some so #eddie munson x you #Eddie Munson x y/n #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson/you #Eddie Munson/reader #Eddie Munson x female!reader #Eddie Munson smut #Eddie Munson/female!reader #Stranger Things #Also please go read and enjoy cowboy Eddie fics cause they are so good #ALSO if anyone is reading this I did try to make like a header picture thing but it kept deleting paragraphs when it was added #So I went without cause really we dont need that we need the words #Is this well done no but it is done and I am well so #Jade is Talking

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stigmalarity · 8 months

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college roommate!Miguel x reader

| gn! reader, masturbation, dildos, voyeurism

College Roommate!Miguel who gets back to your shared apartment after class and is puzzled by the noise complaint tacked to the door.

The fine print describes loud noises during the hours that he’s not at home, meaning it would have to be you. But that’s still odd.

In the handful of months that the two of you have been roommates, he’s never known you to be loud. In actuality, most people would probably consider you the perfect roommate. You’re quiet, clean up after yourself, cook extra food for him, stay on top of chores, and mostly stick to your room. When the two of you do spend time together, it’s never awkward, just… comfortable. Neither of you feel the need to over-exert yourselves with social interaction while in the comforts of your own home.

Miguel likes being around you. He thinks you’re pretty.

He brings up the complaint that night as you cook dinner side-by-side.

“By the way, I came home to a noise complaint today,” he says, chopping up veggies to throw into the noodle dish you’re making. “It said something about loud noises, but it’s only during the hours when I’m not around. Have you heard anything?”

He doesn’t look at your face, but he notices the way you pause.

“Oh, um,” you start, stirring up the noodles in the wok. “I dunno, I must have been playing my music a little too loud while you were at school. My bad,” you reply. “I’ll try to keep it down.”

Miguel shrugs. “Got it. No worries,” he replies. Since he’s never experienced you being loud, he doesn’t really know what else it could be. He lifts the cutting board, and sweeps the veggies into the wok.

It’s not until a week later when his final lecture of the day gets canceled that he figures out what the noise complaint could have been about.

He doesn’t see you when he walks in, but that’s nothing out of the ordinary. It’s only when he takes out his headphones that he hears it.

His first guess is that you’re crying, and it’s technically none of his business to figure out why. As he gets closer, though, he hears it; slick, wet sounds accompanied by your voice, a bit muffled, letting out the most debauched, lecherous wails he’s ever heard.

By some sheer, dumb stroke of fate, your door is open just a crack. His palms are sweating and his pants are tightening as he approaches. He considers turning away when suddenly he hears you, clear as day. You must have pulled away from whatever you had been pressing your face into.

“F-fuh- oh, god- Fuck, Miguel!”

All the blood in his body rushes to his cock, and he’s stepping closer faster than he can think, his eyes trained on that crack in the door. When he sees you, his mind goes blank.

You’re on your knees on the bed, your chest pressed to the sheets and your cheek turned away from him. Your arm is tucked under your torso and between your legs, fucking yourself silly with a flesh tan dildo that for a moment, reminds him of his own cock. Your pretty hole is absolutely soaked, and there's a frothy, white ring gathered at the base of the dildo that he wants to see you lick off.

He stays there, his hand squeezing at his now ridiculously hard cock over his pants as you push yourself up to face the headboard, adjust the dildo underneath you, and start bouncing.

You moan his name again. Then, as if remembering something, you press your hand over your mouth, swallowed by the sleeve of the hoodie that your other hand is tugging up your waist. The bed creaks beneath you, but you keep going.

Arousal lurches hot in his stomach when he realizes the hoodie is one he’s been missing for weeks.

Miguel only lets himself watch for a few more moments, hungrily taking in every inch of you, every noise that escapes your pretty lips and committing it to memory before he turns around and walks back to the door. He opens it wide, then slams it shut, loud enough for you to hear. Your moaning ceases.

His eyes are trained on your bedroom door as you rush over and shut it completely.

#this came to me in a vision as i was washing off my toys in the bathroom sink #winnie writes #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel x reader #atsv x reader #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x you #atsv x y/n #spider man 2099 x reader #atsv x you #atsv smut

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silly4seojun · 3 months

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one kiss is all it takes

content tags: han seo-jun x reader, female reader, characters are aged up to mid 20s, drinking, lightweight best friend that plays matchmaker, tipsy reader, flirting, kissing at midnight, all lowercase intended

author’s note: sorry it’s very late & all over the place heh btw f/n = friend name

———

the new year’s eve party was in full swing by the time you’re ushered past the threshold and into the overcrowded venue; you note how everyone was dressed up to the nines for the occasion, with the men in tuxedos and the women in a variety of gowns and cocktail dresses.

in a bout of anxiousness, you adjust the material of your plunging neckline in an effort to cover your dignity— i should’ve gone with the safe option— but f/n turns to you with a knowing look etched on her face, “relax, tonight’s all about having fun.”

the expression that forms on your face is enough to make her bark out a laugh, “you need a drink.” she didn’t even need to attempt a trip to the booming bar with a waiter walking past with a tray full of flutes of, what you figured to be, champagne— your favourite.

f/n takes two easily, smiling a sweet smile at the not-so-bad-looking waiter before turning back to you, handing you a flute.

“to a good night and an even better 2024!” you toast, clinking glasses and then swallowing back a significant amount of the bubbly alcohol before giving a sound of pleasant surprise and bringing the glass down from your lips.

“remind me again, how did you get us on the guest list?” you couldn’t help feeling like you were out of place, but the sweet taste of alcohol on your tongue soothes your discomfort.

f/n shrugs halfheartedly, “oh y’know, a favor from a friend that owes me.”

you hum in acknowledgment as you scan the sea of people only for your gaze to settle on a man that steals the attention of the room. your eyes couldn’t help the way they followed the man in complete awe as he moved around the room. the low lighting catches the pretty glittering of the embellished pinstripes that ran down the length of his black tuxedo, it makes you think— how can someone be so good looking?

your attention is pulled away from the alluring man to find f/n grinning, in the i know exactly what you were just doing kind of way. “i did say tonight’s all about having fun,” she laughs loudly when you smack her arm, “shut up!” although that doesn’t seem to stop her teasing.

“maybe he can be your new year’s kiss?” she wiggles her eyebrows, swiftly evading your expected smack and swapping your two empty glasses for two full flutes of champagne.

at the mention of the impeding new year, you check the time on the live countdown broadcast situated on the wall beside the bar— 11:13 p.m., forty seven minutes and twelve seconds remaining of 2023. playfully rolling your eyes, you turn away from the man in question, dismissing her taunts with a simple, “as if.”

the dance music gets louder the further you move into the venue, you sip on your new flute of bubbly as you eye the decor that littered the room. the decorations were in traditional nye colours, black and gold; matching the over-the-top dress code.

you’re interrupted by a loud, “i love this song! let’s dance.” f/n skulls the rest of her champagne before you get the chance to remind her she’s a lightweight, “please, y/n!” she adopts her adaptation of puppy dog eyes, pouting when you respond with a quick, and embarrassed, “no way!”

“come on, get in the spirit! dance with me.” f/n doesn’t wait for your answer this time, clumsily grabbing ahold of your hand and pulling you in the direction of the dance floor. you easily down the remaining alcohol and send an apologetic smile to the waiter who you hand the empty glass to.

“i’m definitely not drunk enough for this.” you cringe when you’re finally in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by other, drunk, party goers. although, that doesn’t seem to prevent f/n from dancing to a familiar beat.

you start to dance along with the song, deciding to let loose a little, it’s new year’s eve! somehow in the midst of the chaos, you find yourself enjoying the moment. f/n has a wild grin on her face— one that you can credit the alcohol for— as she dances in a way you can only laugh at, it’s how she normally dances and it’s silly, but you love it.

after a dance battle and encore, you’re short of breath and in need of a drink. in her warped vision, f/n looks back to find you gladly grabbing your third glass of bubbly from another passing waitress, settling at one of the nearby cocktail bar tables. the air was full of the stench of alcohol and hum of 2023’s greatest hit songs, it was practically impossible to ignore, though the sweetness of champagne allows you a moment of bliss as it coats your throat.

you struggle to restrain the corner of your lips from quirking up when f/n staggers over to the table, she clutches the edge to keep her balance.

“oh, look!” a hiccup interrupts her, but she shamelessly points to something behind you. “it’s that guy you were totally checking out earlier.” as if on cue, the champagne you were just sipping on suddenly goes down the wrong pipe, causing you to sputter into a napkin.

you look at her incredulously but she seems to ignore the expression. “why don’t you go over there and introduce yourself?” it doesn’t sound too bad, in theory, until she adds, “it’s almost midnight and you need a new year’s kiss, stat!”

f/n ungracefully stumbles into your side, clutching onto your arm, “i don’t think so.” you attempt to pry your arm out of her grasp but she only clings onto you tighter as she moves towards the stranger.

nerves start to bubble in your chest as you get closer and closer and closer. “oh! i need to go to the bathroo—,” you try your luck with a lame excuse, and for a split second relief floods your system as f/n comes to a stop in her pursuit, but it just as quickly disappears as she shoves you forward, “go get ‘em, tiger!”

“shit, i’m so sorry!” your apology rolls of your tongue— this can’t be happening— when you’re knocked right into him, spilling his drink all over his hand. “my friend is annoyingly… enthusiastic.”

“thank her for me.” his lips stretch into a boyish smile, a tinge of amusement playing on his features as he takes in your frazzled state.

“let me help you clean this up,” you go to find a nearby waiter when he reassures you he can do it himself, setting down the now empty glass and taking out a napkin with one hand and wiping away the stray liquid from the other.

“there. now, as i was sayin’…” he grins a cute smile, you could almost mistake it as being… flirty. “i’ve been wantin’ to talk to you all night.”

you flush at his frankness, “is that so?” you feel hot under his gaze, concluding the champagne that you had been drinking all evening had finally hit you. you giggle to yourself, “well, lucky me then.”

“can i get your name, pretty?” his cheeks seem to mirror yours— pink and warm.

the buzz makes you bolder than usual, allowing you to bite your lip when you smoothly respond with, “only if i get yours, handsome.”

at that, he laughs and it makes your heart jump in your chest. there’s a little smile playing at your lips, when he finally folds, impressed with your flirting.

“seo-jun.” he extends a hand, “it’s nice to meet you.”

“well, hi seo-jun,” you test his name on your tongue, “i’m y/n.” you take his much larger hand in, what you thought was a handshake, but he surprises you with a quick kiss to the top of your knuckles.

the action pulls a shy laugh from you, “that was pretty smooth.”

seo-jun is just as sheepish when he pulls away, “well, y/n, i’ve got a lot more from where that came from.” despite his bashfulness, that doesn’t stop him from closing his left eye to form a wink.

he’s closer now, so close you can smell his cologne and notice the pretty way his eyes crinkle when he smiles and your heart thumps against your rib cage because of it.

f/n and what she said earlier comes to the forefront of your mind, and it seems more like a possibility now but it doesn’t stop the flush from spreading across your cheeks; she was right. ignoring the way your breath catches in your throat when seo-jun watches you, you force the words out of you before you can chicken out. “i don’t normally do this but, uh, did you wanna be my new year’s kiss?”

it’s almost embarrassing how quickly you feel the bud of hope in your chest blooming, and seo-jun doesn’t let you down. “i can’t think of a better way to start the new year off.”

the chanting of the guests is what pulls you back to reality and you don’t believe what’s in motion, it’s too good to be true. you try to look to the crowd to confirm for yourself what’s really happening but seo-jun catches you, his hand cupping your jaw as he guides your gaze back to him. “focus on me, pretty.”

he makes the way he draws you closer to his chest seem so natural and it’s dizzying how handsome he is upon closer inspection. all you can do is dumbly nod as your eyes look up into his, drinking in his appearance. the curves of his lips look so soft and supple at this angle, too tempting not to want to kiss.

four! three!

he bends his neck to minimise the distance between you, now millimetres only separating you. at this reach your lips brush against his a few times, his breath fanning across your face as you patiently wait; waiting for the countdown to, at long last, reach its completion.

two!

you don't take notice of the final cheer as seo-jun finally slots his lips against yours. your hands instinctively move to hold the nape of his neck as your lips become familiar with his. you melt into his warmth, his lips buttery soft and sweet. the way he presses himself further into you, it’s sweet and gentle, it makes your stomach twist into a knot.

when you pull away, starstruck and breathless, seo-jun cheekily grins. “we should definitely do this again.” you can’t help but agree with him; the suggestion doesn’t sound so bad after all.

#han seojun #han seojun x reader #han seojun scenarios #true beauty #true beauty x reader #true beauty scenarios #fluff #winnie writes

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winniemaywebber · 1 month

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The Apple Tree • part 2 🌳

2/6

Rosie Rosenthal x Reader

It's rainy in Thorpe Abbotts. Six planes go up, only five come back. Y/N worries about Rosie.

A familiar rumble distracts the class from their work, the scratching sound of pencils on paper ceasing almost immediately. Today, they had been sheltered from the graying drizzle of the village, much to their discernment. One look at their sad little faces pulled at your heartstrings, and the words “go on, then” had barely left your smiling mouth when they had all rushed to their cubbies to pull on their raincoats to protect themselves from the horrific weather.

Six had gone up, according to the second teacher down the hall who had happened to be on a tea break when she saw the planes ascend. You hadn't told your class the number, not wanting to potentially make their miserable day worse. You wondered if the weather had affected anything - whether the thick, black clouds full of raucous thunder had blocked their vision, the harsh wind causing them to break out of formation and bringing danger to themselves. And, in the back of your mind, you wondered about Rosie, hoping that he was safe.

It had been a couple of days since your last meeting, wherein you'd seen him taking a walk alone around Thorpe Abbotts, you spotting him as you rode home on your bike. You had waved nervously, precariously taking a hand off one of your handlebars to do so. Even from the opposite side of the road, you saw his face make a huge, beautiful smile, his baby blue eyes twinkling at the sight of you.

“Hi, Y/N. Wonderful to see you again.”

“Rosie,” you'd replied, your mouth also instantly bearing a grin at seeing him. “You, too. How was your weekend?”

“Ah, nothing special. I flew a practice mission, came back and wrote my mom. I try to keep her updated, she worries about me so, especially with me being so far away.”

“Oh, I understand. That's very sweet,” your heart melting at a man caring so much for his family. There is a pause as you keep smiling sweetly at one another, stuck for words due to being so excited at seeing each other again.

“So,” he breaks the silence. “Are you headed home?”

“Yes,” you sigh. “It's been a long day. It wasn't sunny enough to let the children play outside, and being cooped up drives them mad!” You laugh, hoping to diffuse the butterflies rising up in your stomach as he begins to offer to wheel your bike home so you can walk alongside him.

“I can imagine!” He responds, once again smiling in your direction as his eyes dart around, trying to get his bearings. A crack of thunder from above distracts him, his shoulders sagging with a sigh.

“We'd better hurry you home, ma'am.”

Running through the rain, you arrive at the cottage quick as a flash. “Come in and warm up by the fire,” you shout over the loud pattering of raindrops on your slate doorstep, both of you sheltering under the front door canopy.

“I'd love to, but I gotta get back to base. We have a briefing in the morning and I should get some rest.”

“Oh, of course. Well, thank you for walking me home again. You're great company.”

“You too, ma'am,” he smiles, exhaling through his nose with a slight giggle. “Are you doing anything Thursday afternoon?”

“No, I'm not,” you reply, the fastest answer that's ever left your lips. “I leave the school at around 2pm. You could meet me there? I could show you around a little. Bring your bike!”

“Oh, er–” he stutters, face turning red with embarrassment. “I haven't quite got to grips with that thing yet.” You try your best to stifle a giggle, shaking your head.

“I've heard you're the best pilot in the Army Air Force and you can't ride a bike?” You wink at him jokingly, his face now a cute shade of pink.

“Leave me alone, Y/N,” he pokes at you, his face however, still holding that beautiful smile.

“I'll teach you…if you'd like,” you say with a shrug. He nods, the color of his cheeks returning to normal. He reaches over and softly kisses your cheek, your hand coming up to touch it as soon as his lips break contact.

“Miss, I saw five come back,” Penelope says in a small voice. “How many were there?” Feeling your heart jump to your throat and your breathing become ragged, you try your best to maintain composure.

“I believe it was five, little one,” you respond, gritting your teeth into a reassuring smile. “Mrs Meldrum said five, but she was nose deep in the biscuit tin at the time. I'll ask her later, okay?” The wide eyed little girl nods and rushes back to her seat, pushing her round glasses up her nose as she sits down, once again ready to learn.

Getting through the rest of the day without making your unease obvious is an arduous task. Every time you think of Rosie, you feel your heart almost stop, feeling like a phantom hand has its grip around it, crushing it bit by bit. You find yourself taking a moment while the children are distracted to place a hand on your chest, willing your breathing to return to its usual pace, arguing with yourself for feeling so anxious over somebody you've met only twice.

To your surprise, you see your friend Sally outside as you corral the children out the door for home time, zipping coats and tying shoe laces as they rush out of the door into the cold drizzle. She's stood in a yellow rain coat, a black umbrella swaying slightly in the breeze.

“Sally?” You call. “Come in, doll.” A look of concern etched on your face, she runs in, dismantling her umbrella, a sob catching in her throat as she runs past you into the schoolroom.

“Oh, Y/N,” she wails, her pretty face crumpled. Her eyes are squeezed shut, black inky trails from her mascara shooting down her face. “Only five–” she stutters, before taking a deep breath to try and compose herself. “Only five came back…and–and I don't know if James…”

“Hey, Sal,” you murmur, pulling her into a tight hug, her wet raincoat against your skin causing you to shiver suddenly. “It's all going to be okay, just–” you pause, a hand on her cheek now. “Just be patient. He'll be knocking on your door tomorrow.” She nods, a small sob escaping her lips as she wipes her eyes. You hand her a small white handkerchief, embroidered with your initials. This seems to make her cry all the more.

“I still have the one your Granny made me,” she says as she dabs away the mascara lines. “Maybe I should start carrying it again.” You titter, exhaling as you do so.

“She gave them to us when we were, what, six?” You look at Sally inquisitively, and she nods. “And she made us promise to always stay friends. I'm not sure why she thought matching handkerchiefs would cement that, but…”

“I'm glad we did, though,” she laughs, sniffing.

“Me, too. Now, come on. You're about to freeze if we don't get you some place warm. I'll light the fire at home and you'll stay for dinner to take your mind off this.” You grip her softly by the shoulders. “He will be here tomorrow, okay?” But you're not quite sure who you're trying to reassure more: yourself or your best friend.

A restless night awaits you, tossing and turning in your bed as the moonlight peeks through your thin curtains. All you can think about is if Rosie and James are safe, the weight of your thoughts crushing your chest with every attempted deep breath. You fall asleep just as the sun is rising, and you wake feeling horrific. You pad to the bathroom to wash your face and brush your teeth, hoping going through your daily routine will bring some color back to your pale face and somehow, take your mind off things.

It's only when you pull your bike from against the wall of the cottage that you realize it's finally stopped raining for the first time in three days. You breathe in the fresh air, hearing the soft breeze blow through the leaves on the tree outside your gate as your eyes close softly. “Y/N!” you hear a voice call from down the lane. There, in his uniform, looking a little battered, is James. As he approaches you, you see he has a small scratch above his eyebrow and another gash upon his cheek.

“James!” You reply, extremely happy to see him. “You're here! Oh, Sally came to see me in such an awful state yesterday. We only saw five planes come back, and–”

“I'm headed there now,” he responds, interrupting your train of thought. He smiles brightly at you, and gives you a friendly wink. “Thank you for looking after her,” he says, softly. “I sure do hate worrying her but…it's just the way of the job.”

“I understand, James. I know. She just has such a big heart.” You begin to wheel your bike down the lane towards the school, waving a goodbye to James and trying your best to avoid asking the one question that kept you up all night. The temptation, however, is too much and you stop in your tracks.

“James?” You call after him. He turns but keeps walking, looking precariously behind him every few steps to avoid potholes and small ditches. “Is Rosie okay?”

“Finally!” He yells into the distance between you. “I was waiting for you to ask. He's fine, Y/N. Teach him how to ride that darn bike before he puts himself in the infirmary again!”

The day passes in a blink, which you think is mostly in part of you wishing the day away. The children leave in a gaggle of excitement, looking forward to feeling the warm sun on their sweet faces as they begin their short walk home, playing together all the while. As they disperse, you look out of the bay window and spot someone under the apple tree, reading, their brow furrowed in concentration. “Rosie!” you squeal, swing open the door and run towards him as fast as you can. He spots you immediately and stands up, just in time for you to fling your arms around him without second guessing yourself.

“Well, hi,” He murmurs, his face buried in your neck. You breathe a huge sigh of relief into him, your eyes squeezed shut.

“I didn't know if you were--oh, I was so worried about you,” you hold him a little tighter, wanting to make the embrace last a few moments more. “Oh, I'm so happy to see you, Rosie.”

“Likewise, Y/N,” he replies, reciprocating the tighter hug. You finally break apart, your hand finding its way to cup his cheek.

“Now,” you sigh, finally content. “Tell me why you can't ride this bike.”

He demonstrates, looking a little embarrassed when you see him begin to try pedal backwards.

“Hey, stop!” You call after him. “What are you doing?”

“I'm trying to stop the thing,” he laughs, but obviously frustrated.

“Darling,” you reply, the word just spilling out of you. “These–” you gesture to the long buttons just off the handlebars, “--are for stopping.” He rolls his eyes jokingly, comically slapping a hand to his head.

“Wow,” he says, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “I guess I can ride a bike. You really are a great teacher, Y/N. Those kids are lucky.” You shove at him playfully, laughing at his tone, until he grabs your hand. “Seriously…” he pauses, his thumb stroking the back of your hand. “You're wonderful.”

Both balancing your bikes against the schoolhouse, you find yourselves under the apple tree, the sun just beginning to set. You had grabbed a spare blanket from the classroom, just in case the weather began to turn at a moment's notice which you knew was a terrible habit England possessed. Rosie places it around both of you and pulls you in close, your head resting on his shoulder. You close your eyes and exhale, contentedly, the rollercoaster of emotions from the past day finally leaving you in that breath, grateful and happy to have him here with you and safe for the time being. You reluctantly check your watch as he runs his fingers through your loose hair.

“You probably should get going,” you sigh, eyes a little sad. “It's late. I don't want you in trouble.”

“I can handle it,” he says quietly, his whole body relaxing underneath you. “Just a few more minutes, please. I just want to be a guy, watching the sunset with a pretty girl on my arm.”

#masters of the air #mota #mota fic #masters of the air fic #rosie rosenthal #rosie rosenthal x reader #winnie writes

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