#3.4k and maybe HALF their date is over???

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (19/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: There's so much going on in Charles' brain, but having to come clean with his feelings is the hardest.

Warnings: 18+ (mentions of fingering, masturbating), angst, swear words, Lando being a little shit

Word Count: 3.4k

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A/N: sorry. and happy season finale. let’s hope for a better 2024.

Charles has never been so happy about a pot of plants. 

After you slammed the door in his face, he barely made it to the street before throwing up in the nearest plant pot. His fingers clawed around the hard ceramic edges as his body struggled against the nasty words he spat at you. 

He doesn't even know why he was so mean to you. 

Was it because you had a wonderful evening last night? Because you two got so close that you both almost kissed? Because you fell asleep next to each other and he slept incredibly well? Or because Lando texted him in the middle of the night and asked what your favorite food was so that he could do everything right on your date?

Maybe he does know why he was so mean to you. 

"Charles? Concentrate, please," he is snapped out of his thoughts and Charles sits up a little straighter in his chair. He can feel something crack in his spine.

The meeting has been going on for hours. So long, in fact, that the private chefs in Maranello have already had to bring food to the room four times, with the last meal being dinner. Charles has eaten so much pasta and bruschetta that he feels sick just looking at the leftovers on the table in front of him. And the water with the slice of lemon in the glass in front of him no longer tastes very refreshing.

No matter what he eats or drinks, he can't get rid of the disgusting taste in his mouth. 

He wonders if your "I hate you" is as heavy on your stomach as the nasty words are on his. He would love to take back everything he spat in your face. Turn back time and undo everything. But he can't do that. Unfortunately. 

He'd love to bang his head on the tabletop. 

In fact, he can barely remember what he said. It's as if his brain short circuited, has had some kind of blackout, or as if a bomb has gone off and wiped everything out. Which doesn't excuse any of it. But from your hurt look, the tears in your eyes and your venomous response, it was so unacceptable that he'd like to slap himself for it. 

It wasn't the first time Lando had asked Charles for dating help and they are actually such good friends that Charles has always been happy to help him. But the fact that the Brit asked for help so that he could take you out nicely - that doesn't sit right with him. Which is complete nonsense, because he has no reason to. He has no claim of ownership over you. And besides, he didn't want to kiss you in the bookstore. 

Although that's not entirely true either.

He did want to kiss you. Desperately. And you'd been so close all day, you'd shown him your favorite place and everything had pointed to you wanting to make the move to something more - and then you gave him that look when he asked you for a dance. And he can understand why you didn't want to. After all, it's your place, your favorite place, and never would Charles do anything to tarnish that place in any way. Create a memory that you would later regret. 

The Petit Mondes is your safe haven. And as much as Charles wants you - and he definitely does - he wouldn't cross that line.

Since you've known each other, Charles has had to fight every waking - and to be honest, every sleeping - moment not to jump you. He can't stop thinking about you standing in front of him half-naked in a towel. Or how you turned around just a few steps away from him before dinner with his friends to show him your outfit. How you slept next to him and dreamt - dreamt of him. A moment he will never forget. 

Although he is actually a late riser, Charles woke up early that morning. Not because he had slept in, but because he was warm. Contrary to his expectations, it wasn't because of the comforter or the heating, but because you were lying half on top of him. Your head was resting against his shirt-clad chest, one of your legs was draped over his hip, while your arm was wrapped around his middle. 

At first, he didn't understand what was going on at all. He wanted to lift his arm to rub the sleep from his eyes, but he was met with resistance in the form of a lightly clad, sleeping beauty. His arm was wrapped around your waist, his hand was a little too high on your ribs to pass for being friendly, and by God - he hadn't felt this comfortable in ages.

Feeling your closeness had triggered something in him that confused him, but at the same time made him incredibly relaxed. He had pulled you closer to him, pressed you against him and enjoyed your warmth. For a moment, he had even considered whether he should just pull you all over him so that he could be as close to you as possible. 

Before he could think about how wrong that would be and how many boundaries he would be crossing, you had turned in his arms so that your back was against his chest. Your body molded perfectly against his, your warmth engulfing him, but nothing could have prepared him for the fact that you were going to move your butt a little in his direction, right up against his crotch. 

Charles had been awake in a flash and while you continued to sleep soundly, all the blood from his brain had rushed to his dick. Embarrassed, he'd squinted and focused on something else - Ferrari strategies, Joris last Christmas with the Leclercs, anything - and had scooted back a few inches to stick his hand down his pants so he could fix his raging boner.

But alas, you'd followed him like a magnet, squirming against him like you knew exactly what you were doing, so that his cock was wedged between your ass cheeks. Your body had been so warm, so soft against his hard one, that he had to stifle a moan.

Something you hadn't been able to do. If you hadn't been so close to him, he would have missed your soft gasp of his name. That's when he blew a fuse.

He would have loved to wake you up with kisses along your neck, let his fingers wander slowly over your skin until they finally disappeared into your panties. He would have let them glide through your folds and collect your wetness before gently rubbing your bundle of nerves. You would have turned to him and moaned into his mouth as he slid one of his fingers into your tight walls.

He'd never escaped his bedroom so quickly and quietly and jumped into the freezing cold shower.

The water felt like fine pinpricks as it splashed down on his burning hot skin, but no matter how cold he turned it on - his cock stood angry and proud. He put his head back in despair, his brain vehemently refusing to see his friend in this light, to desire you like this. But before he could do anything about it, his fingers had wrapped themselves around his aching cock. His imagination ran away with him, too many images popped up in his mind's eye as he squeezed it twice in the hope of relieving some tension. But the only thing it triggered was the feeling of a moment ago, when his cock was against your ass. 

He was almost ashamed of how quickly he came. 

He just hoped you didn't notice when he came back into the bedroom and woke you up with it. He had thought about lying back next to you, but had decided on the foot of the bed to create some distance. 

The fact that you were dreaming about him threw him off course. And he'd really wanted to kiss you - by God, he'd wanted to do even kinkier things to you - but the timing never seemed right. 

And then Lando's message came.

The vibration in his pocket brings him back to the present. Charles takes a quick look around to make sure he's not the center of the conversation, then glances at his phone. 

Lando: You need to come home now.

He looks at the screen, confused. Why the hell is Lando texting him? Lando of all people? Did you tell him all the things Charles threw at you? How badly he treated you? 

Charles: I'm in Maranello. 

If you really did confide in Lando, his answer sounds pathetic. Why else would Lando text him? His friend certainly knows that Charles screwed up. And also that you want to move out of the apartment. But does the Brit really believe that Charles could change your mind when he's the reason you're moving out?

Lando's answer comes immediately.

Lando: I don't care. Get your ass over here. 

The Monegasque turns on the keypad lock on his cell phone and places it on the table in front of him. It wouldn't make any difference if he went home now and tried to change your mind. What could happen is that his presence would only strengthen your decision to move out. Besides, he doesn't know how he's ever going to face you again. 

Before he can think about it, his cell phone starts ringing. The eyes of his co-workers land on him and he apologizes with a quiet "mi dispiace" before leaving the meeting, phone in hand. Out in the corridor, he doesn't even need to look at the screen to know who is calling. 

"If you don't go back to Monaco immediately, I'll come to Italy myself to get you," Lando snaps at him and Charles has to hold the receiver away from his ear to stop his eardrums from bursting.

"Hi, Lando."

"Don't give me 'Hi, Lando'. Get your fucking ass over here."

Charles rubs his forehead before running his whole hand over his face. "I can't just leave here."

"Don't talk shit like that. We both know you're not up for the meeting," the Brit replies bitchily. "Don't act like you don't have a choice."

The Monegasque rolls his eyes. "What do you want to hear from me now, Lando?"

The answer comes like a shot from a gun. "I want to know what you've been up to! Are you completely stupid?"

Charles would like to know the answer too.

"You go home right now, explain your shitty behaviour and apologize."

"And you're interfering because...?" His tone is cold. 

"Because I was in your apartment all evening and had to watch how devastated Y/N was. I'd love to kill you for it."

"Go ahead and do it. She sure as hell wouldn't mind."

He swears he hears Lando take a deep breath on the other end of the line. 

"I'm going to tell you this once. Just once, Charles. And I'm saying this for her sake, because I still have hope that you're the person I was praising to her."

Praising? If you've told Lando everything, then you've certainly told Charles everything about the Brit. That he just wants to get you into bed. So why would Lando want to help him?

"What you did was absolute bullshit, Charles. Totally below the belt and you've never acted as fucking shit as you just did."

Charles rolls his eyes. "Is there anything positive coming?"

"Shut up, you idiot. I don't know what you've done in the few days you've known each other to make her so crazy about you, but I don't have to. Any blind man can see there's something between you. Something good. So go home now and save what can be saved before she really decides to leave the country."

Charles, who had just been leaning against the wall, stands up straight. "The country? I thought she just wanted to move out."

"She's been thinking about it, asshole. United States, Australia. Something really far away from you."

"But she has her job here, at that one magazine. There's no way she'd leave like that."

"She got fired, motherfucker. Before you made your weird deal. Nothing's keeping her here anymore. So get your ass over here now before she really decides to take off."

How could Charles be so blind? He knows the magazine, his mom reads it occasionally and he actually knows that a new issue comes out every week. You've known each other for five days - five days that you've spent entirely with him. Something that would definitely not be possible with such a full-time job. 

"And what do you want from me now? That I drop everything to go home even though she doesn't want to see me?"

"I've never seen anyone as stupid as you."

"Can you stop with the insults?" Charles snaps through the phone. 

"You have nothing to say to me, you arsehole. She told me what you said about me. You owe it to us to go off and try to make things right." 

Charles can't help but laugh. "Us? So you two are already an us?" He doesn't know why he's talking to one of his closest friends like this. Especially when the latter only wants to help put things right that Charles has messed up. The Monegasque has no reason to be angry. But the disgusting taste in his mouth, which he hasn't been able to get rid of for hours, is not anger. Unfortunately, he only realizes it now.

He's fucking jealous. And he can't do anything about it.

"We're friends, but apparently you don't know what the word stands for," Lando replies snippily. "Go home, explain to her why you behaved so badly and apologize to her." His voice softens, warmer than it has been throughout the phone call. "Charles, I know you're being careful because you're afraid of getting hurt again. And I can understand that, I really can." He takes a deep breath. "But it's Y/N we're talking about here. Sit down and talk to each other, be honest, and then it'll all work out."

Charles' gaze wanders to the huge Ferrari logo hanging on the wall next to him and his bad guilt returns. You don't even know who he is. To you, he's Charles, the roommate who shows you beautiful places, introduces you to his friends and with whom you share a bed. You are the only person who knows him as Charles and not as Charles Leclerc.

What would you think of him if the cat was out of the bag? When you see who he really is, including the spotlight? What happens if you like Charles, but not Charles Leclerc? He doesn't know if he could handle it. His job is his life, he's on the road all year round and what little time he has he has to divide between friends and family. 

That's why his relationship with Annika failed. She was right about what she threw at him. That you always have to wait for him and that it's not fair. And she knew what she was getting into from the start. But you don't. You would be thrown in at the deep end if you decided to go for it. If you chose him.

"I don't think it's that easy," Charles says quietly, and he has to suppress the tremor in his voice. "She - she doesn't deserve this life. This risk. She - she," he takes a deep breath and has to wipe away the tear running down his cheek. "She's too good for me. She deserves someone great."

"How strange," Lando replies. "That's exactly what she says about you. So get in the car and apologize. I'm sure you'll be able to sort it out. And if you say shit like that about me again, I'll drive you into the wall in Bahrain next year."

Charles curls his mouth into a thin smile. "I'm truly sorry, Lando. And thank you for everything."

"I'm just absolutely the best." Charles can almost hear his grin before the Brit hangs up.

When the Monegasque re-enters the meeting room, all eyes are on him. With deliberate steps, he walks to his chair and grabs his jacket before looking at his team boss. "I'm going home."

His boss crosses his arms in front of his chest. "You can't just leave like that, Charles. We need to talk about next season and everything that's gone wrong this year."

"I can tell you exactly what happened," the brunette replies as he zips up his jacket. "The strategies this year were all for the trash, you screwed me over and you cost me the title." He grabs his wallet and car keys from the table in front of him. "Make sure things go better next year. After all, it doesn't get any shittier than this. See you next year. Have a good holiday."

He knows that his Ferrari can drive fast. And he also knows that he shouldn't drive that fast. But the roads home are empty and he wants to get to you as quickly as possible, in the hope that you haven't left the apartment yet. The accelerator pedal is almost stuck to the floor and he would certainly have to pay a heavy fine if the police caught him speeding. But apparently luck is on his side and it takes him just over three hours to turn onto the streets of Monaco.

The closer he gets to your apartment, the faster his heart beats and he can feel himself starting to sweat. What's the best way to start the apology?

I'm sorry I was so shitty to you, but it was because -

I behaved like crap, but it was only because - 

I'm sorry I was such a bad friend, but you should have - 

Wow. It actually all sounds like shit. 

Maybe Lando is right. Maybe the most reasonable thing would be for Charles to just be honest, even if it means destroying everything between you. But you deserve the truth.

I'm sorry I said those bad things to you and I'm sorry I hurt you. Of course, apologizing can't undo any of it, but if you gave me the chance, I could explain myself to you. I was jealous because we had such a nice evening and then I find out you planned a date with one of my friends. I wanted to kiss you in the bookstore, I've wanted you ever since we met. You've been messing with my head from the beginning, taking over my heart and I can't think straight when you're with me. Maybe it's crazy because we've only known each other for five days, but I've never felt about someone the way I feel about you. I'm in lo-

His train of thought stops abruptly as he turns into the street. A green Nissan is parked on the sidewalk in front of your apartment, the driver's door is open and the hazard lights illuminate the walls of the house. 

Charles worriedly parks at the next opportunity before jumping out of the car and dashing to the front door, which is wide open. He can already hear angry voices from outside, a male voice that almost shouts the whole house awake. 

And your voice, angry and rough and shaky, as if you were at the end of your tether. 

Charles sprints up the few steps to your apartment and stops like a flash on the top step when he sees you. You're wearing your pyjamas, your hair is disheveled, as if you've run your hand through it several times, and when you see him, you snap your eyes open as if you've seen a ghost. 

But it's not the sight of you that makes Charles' blood boil. 

It's Raphael's, who follows your gaze and takes a step back when he realizes who he's facing. "Your roommate is Charles Leclerc?"

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#charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc prompt #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc imagine #lando norris #carlos sainz jr #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc cute #charles leclerc fanfiction #charles leclerc x yn #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc fluff #f1 smut #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic

[ivystoryweaver]

With You part 13

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Summary: Who left you that note on the counter? (It was Marc)

Pairings: Marc Spector x gn!reader, (Steven Grant x gn!reader, Jake Lockley x gn!reader) No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 3.4k

Content: angst, sprinkle of fluff (more under the cut)

Warnings: like a lot of cursing, spiciest chapter to date, nsfw tho the language is still gn and not overly explicit but you have been warned. Probably inaccurate DID, based on the show.

PREVIOUSLY, on "With You"...

The three of you agreed that Marc just needed some time. As always, you decided not to take it personally. This was about him.

You beat Steven home again the following evening, and this time, waiting on the kitchen counter, was an envelope bearing your name.

'On the roof -M'

Just that little scribble - Marc's handwriting, that he'd taken the time to put into an envelope for you - had you gasping for air.

You bolted for the stairwell, clad in your scrubs and in no mood to wait the brief eternity for the lift. Taking the stairs two at a time, you heaved yourself breathlessly through the rooftop door, gasping out his name.

"Marc!?"

Your husband wasn't exactly the film-style, run-and-jump-hug kind of man, so you were going to have to work very hard not to tackle him.

"Marc? It's me!" you panted, more from the anticipation than from exertion.

Unable to locate him in his usual spot, you peered over the building's edge, down to the city below - in case he was hanging there like Spider-Man?

Dumb.

Scurrying around the rooftop, you checked behind cooling towers and anything else obstructing your view.

No Marc.

Cursing under your breath, you dialed his phone, hoping maybe you missed him somehow, but knowing full well that the roof of your building wasn't that big.

No answer.

So back down you went. Maybe he wasn't fronting anymore. Sometimes it happened, whether one of them wanted it to or not. Couldn't really blame him if that were the case.

That didn't stop you from ringing his mobile again as you raced back down the stairs, narrowly missing a dangerously close face-plant situation once arriving at your floor.

"Marc!" You cried, bursting back into your flat. Releasing a shuddering sigh, your eyes burned with the beginnings of frustrated tears.

Right then, he emerged from the bathroom, soaking wet, dark ringlets dripping down his cheeks, with a white towel tucked snugly around his hips.

"I'm here," he softly responded, approaching you slowly, stopping before even reaching arm's length. Realizing you were in some sort of distress, he withdrew, almost imperceptibly.

"M-Marc," you stuttered out, unable to believe it as actually him. And not just him - who you had missed terribly for two weeks - he was soaking wet and half naked.

Swallowing hard, he pushed his fingers through his drenched curls, sprinkling the floor with water droplets and creating one hell of a sexy mess.

He figured you must be really upset with him for being gone so long.

Neither of you moved. You just stood, staring, your chest heaving with emotion as Marc wilted, drawing in on himself.

Steven would probably be here soon. You had to do something. Anything!

"I-I saw your note," you blurted. "I ran upstairs to look for you. I- "

"Shit. I left the note earlier, in case..." Figures he would have sent you up to the roof on a wild goose chase. No wonder you were keeping your distance. The quick note had replaced a long letter he had composed for you. Something to try to explain. But he tore the letter up and replaced it with the rooftop note, because the letter was utterly inadequate.

Head dropping in shame, Marc's fists clenched by his sides. "I'm sorry," he choked out.

You had to try anything. Inching forward, you moved carefully, afraid of scaring off the elusive creature he'd become these past weeks.

Stretching your fingers out slowly, you made sure he could see your incoming touch with his eyes - then asked for verbal permission before you made contact.

"Baby...is this okay?" One fingertip grazed his knuckle like a whisper.

Realizing you were here, right in front of him - touching him - soothed his fears almost instantly.

Exhaling shakily, he stared at the floor, even as he pushed his fingers up to meet your palm. With the faintest caress, you traced the length of his fingers, slowly pushing your own in between each one until your hands intertwined.

"Marc...please - I need..." Chomping down on your tongue, you called upon every restraining force in your body to keep from pushing him away.

"What?" He whispered - wide, brown eyes flickering briefly up to yours. Water droplets made his impossibly long lashes glisten. He must have quite literally run from the shower. "What do you need?"

Tugging on your intertwined fingers, he pulled you close enough to feel the steamy humidity of his solid chest.

Feeling your shaking puffs of breath cool his heated skin, he wilted inside as you squeezed your eyes shut.

"I...is it okay if I hug you?" Your body twitched with nervous energy, your glassy eyes finally locking with his.

In them, he saw raw truth. He saw you. You weren't angry with him - you were something else. Maybe you needed him to touch you, but you wouldn't violate his safety to get what you wanted. Never. The restraint you were showing him was burning you alive.

'I'll burn down the whole world first.'

Your promise to never leave him flooded back to his memory, propelling him to dip his knees and scoop you up into his arms.

"I'll get you all wet," he murmured, even while nuzzling his sopping curls against your cheek.

"Then get me wet," you groaned, fingers clawing at his shoulders, hauling him into your embrace. "Please just...stay. Just a little longer, Marc, please."

Lips parted, you mouthed the damp skin of his cheek before pressing a kiss there.

Relief surged through him, simultaneously weakening his grip on you while fortifying his desire to stay here with you.

Feeling his hold on you loosen, you cursed yourself internally, face flaming as tears burned your eyes. It must be too much for him - the frantic searching, calling out for him - the pleas to stay and now, a soft kiss to his warm skin.

"I'm sorry," you whimpered, releasing him. It hurt so badly, you could barely stand.

Playing the last 30 seconds over in his mind, Marc frantically attempted to figure out what he did wrong. What else he did wrong... You let go of him...although you apologized. For what?

"For what?" He uttered, reaching out for your arms, his fingertips electrifying your skin.

Ducking down again, his heart shattered at the sight of your tears. When would he ever stop fucking up your life?

As your gazes locked, he brushed his knuckles tenderly across your cheek. "I'm the one who's sorry. I'm so sorry."

"I missed you," you whispered, nuzzling into his touch. "Did you get my letter?"

Nodding, he dragged his fingers down the side of your neck to grasp your shoulder. "I'm sorry I did that to you, honey. I didn't mean to be gone so long. I was so tired..."

"It's okay, baby, that's why you have Steven and Jake," you attempted, your hands twitching with the pulsing need to touch him again. Touch him more.

Right. Jake.

The one Khonshu wanted. The one you wanted. The one who was now here with you, living life with you, moving his clothes into the closet, showing you who he was.

The preferred one. Giving you the love you deserved, along with Steven - so alive, full of hope. Steven was the glue in this whole thing, as much as you were. Without Steven, Marc wondered if he might somehow slip away into the recesses of his own mind, leaving your heart in more capable hands.

Moon Knight was certainly in far more capable hands.

"It shouldn't be okay," he sighed, his skin crawling uncomfortably. "It's not okay for your husband to leave you without telling you." Shaking his head, his arms dropped heavily down to his sides. "But I guess it was okay to you because you have Jake now."

Ouch.

Your lip trembled - he'd pulled away from you again. "I...I haven't had chance to talk to you, like I promised I would - about Jake." What the hell? You didn't want to talk about Jake right now, you wanted to see and feel and love Marc!

"A-are you mad at me?" You whimpered, trying to find your footing in this conversation.

"Mad at you?" He gasped in disbelief as his hands found his hips. "You're the one who should be mad. You shouldn't have to fucking live like this." Shifting from foot to foot, he grew restless, like he wanted to claw his way out of his own skin. Or have a drink. Fuck.

Blowing out a long breath, you tried to steady yourself. If you hurt his feelings, oh well. If he withdrew into his mind and you didn't see him for another couple weeks, so be it. You thrived on honesty and communication. The real. No more tiptoeing.

"Marc, I don't need for you to tell me how I should have to live. I can decide the life I want to have," you calmly explained, relaxing your body and boldly holding his gaze. "I'm not mad that you're a system or that you're going through something new or hard for you."

"I know you're not mad," he muttered. "You never are. Because I can't disappoint you or hurt you if you expect nothing from me."

He may as well have thrown ice cold water in your face and then slapped you.

But he wasn't done.

"Why do you want to be on this merry-go-round...roundabout?" He added the less American term. "My drinking, my fucking panic attacks, nightmares - all my shit," he spat, his chest heaving. "I asked myself how anyone could put up with this, or would even want to, and the answer is...obvious."

Pushing a hand back through his damp waves, he re-stated his worst fear. Something he found himself finally able to voice out loud, after two weeks in the headspace.

His dramatic pause was long enough that you cleared your throat and prompted him to go on. He may as well get all this off his chest, even if it destroyed you. "What answer is obvious?"

Daring to meet your eyes, he could see, in real time, how much he was fucking up. But it was like a plane crashing - he couldn't stop the descent.

"The answer is Steven," he rasped, his voice hoarse - thick with emotion. "You don't expect anything from me because Steven is so good to you. He's so good at everything. And now Jake..." his voice trailed off as his dark eyes clouded with moisture. "Jake stepped right into my shoes - with you, with Khonshu. I don't do anything. I don't give you anything. But you're a good person and you love me anyway. Believe, me, I could not be more grateful for that. Or any less deserving."

You were crying now - heavy, wet tears streaking your beautiful cheeks as you sank to the floor. He had actually done it. He had rendered even you speechless.

Without another word, he walked back into the bathroom and shut the door.

God, how every word out of his mouth cut you so deep. You could cry for a week, but where would that get you? He thought Jake had taken his place? If he wanted a taste of the shit you and Jake gave each other, he could have it. But no way would you spend another instant on this floor, no matter how your gut twisted with pain.

Racing over to the bathroom door, you pounded. "Marc, open the door!" You shouted, wincing as you realized this was probably the opposite of what he needed. Lowering your voice, you announced that you were coming in.

Marc was naked.

His towel was hanging up in its usual place and he was reaching for the underwear lying on the countertop.

Why was he getting dressed in the bathroom if you were married?

Whatever. Didn't matter. Fuck him.

"You don't need those," you said sharply, yanking the boxer briefs out of his grasp and tossing them aside. Pushing your fingers over the soft flesh of his abdomen, up onto his chest, your nails scraped his damp skin. "You think I don't need you, Marc?"

Gripping his face in your hands, you lifted up on your toes, crushing your mouth against his.

He was stunned for a moment, but slowly melted into your kiss as you slid your tongue over his demandingly.

His hands found your hips, gripping them tightly before yanking you hard against his chest. The two of you stumbled backwards, breaking your kiss and sending you crashing into him.

Reaching for his muscular arms to steady yourself, you panted, desperate for him in every possible way. That's when your eyes traveled down to plainly see that he wanted you too.

Jerking your scrubs off your body, Marc quickly joined you in yanking and pulling until you were as bare as he was. Between every movement, your lips chased one another's, licking and tasting - connecting at every possible point, until he pushed you up against the door.

The fire in your eyes had him weak for you.

You surprised him by returning to a deeper topic even as your bare bodies pushed and pulled against the other. "You treat my love and compassion as indifference? Fuck you."

He stilled for a moment, but you gripped his length firmly in your palm, tugging and making him groan.

"You think I should be mad?" You spat, working him roughly. "Congratulations. I am."

"Baby," he panted, his forehead dropping to rest against yours as his body submitted to your demanding touch.

"You think Jake took your place, here, with me?" You growled on his ear, biting his earlobe and tugging it between your lips. "Fuck you both. Nothing is taking you away from me."

Groaning your name, Marc's hips stuttered against your hand as his forehead dropped to your shoulder.

"You think I don't expect anything from you?" Yanking on his wet curls, you jerked his head back so you could see his face. "I really fucking do." Using your grip on his length, you guided him to where you really wanted to feel him.

"You think you don't give me anything?" You whined, as he entered you, your body shuddering with pleasure as he groaned on your ear. "You've given me everything." Moving on him slowly, you moaned as he pinned you against the bathroom door. "Give it to me, Marc."

"Fuck...baby..." he gasped, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise.

He couldn't help himself - after deep, frantic thrusts over and over - he finished before you, whimpering and desperate.

Good. You had him right where you wanted him. Vulnerable and sated. Or at least slightly relieved, maybe.

Yanking the towel off the rack, you handed it to him so he could clean up a little bit. "Go lie down on the bed," you ordered, your eyes dark and unreadable.

Swallowing, Marc nodded once and complied. As soon as he left the bathroom, you stared at yourself in the mirror, exhaling shakily. What just transpired between the two of you felt really fucking good, but it was more than sex. You were doing battle. And Marc wasn't getting out of your bed until he understood a few things.

Moments later, you climbed on top of your husband in bed, salaciously kissing him, draping your body over his.

"I want you to do something for me," you murmured after a long while, as both of your bodies stirred with new desire.

"Anything," he whispered, his hands finding their way between your legs.

Gasping as he teased you, you reveled in his touch, forgetting to finish your thought.

"What can I do, baby?" Marc hummed against your skin. Being needed by you? He lived for it.

You kissed him again, your body writhing under his caress. "I want you to stop deciding how I feel."

"O-okay," he groaned as your breath tickled his lips.

"I'm serious," you went on, forcing him still - waiting for him to look at you. "If I'm mad, I'll be mad. If I'm patient and understanding, you can't tell me to be angry."

He was trying to listen, but he really wanted you again. "Uh-huh," he ground out, thrusting upward, hoping...

"You see this?" Showing him your wedding band, you pushed your fingers through his. "You remember the vows I made?"

"Yes," he panted, desperate for you, wishing you would touch him back. "Please, honey..."

"I know," you cooed, kissing him again. His mouth, his cheek, his eyebrow. "Who did I make vows to?"

His eyes locked onto you and he melted. "Me."

"That's right," you smiled gently down at him. "So stop with all the bullshit you keep telling yourself. And stop telling me how I feel."

Feeling a little relief in the air, Marc sat up and kissed you urgently. "So damn bossy." He said this while continuing to stroke and caress you.

"You were being an asshole," you half teased, shivering as he grazed a particularly sensitive spot. "I definitely prefer your usual method of stress relief."

His eyebrows shot up playfully as he slowly removed his hand, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. "Is that right?"

The air between you crackled with electricity as you waited...

Wetting your lips, your eyes traveled down from his warm gaze, over his sharp nose to the fullness of his parted lips. The strong line of his jaw twitched with anticipation and that wasn't the only thing that twitched under the heat of your stare.

He pounced, rolling you underneath him, face down, nuzzling into your neck as his body smothered yours. "Are you sure, baby?" He growled, licking a stripe up the side of your neck while dragging his palms up your bare thighs. "Because I need a lot of relief."

With that warning, he pushed his way inside you, groaning on your ear. His strong hand slid around your abdomen, pulling your body against his as you began moving together. "I am sorry," he breathed.

"Shut up," you gasped as the hand on your abdomen traveled down between your legs.

You and Marc stayed in bed for hours, relieving a lot of stress. He had to re-visit the shower, not that you were complaining. The two of you did finally make your way to the rooftop, after the moon shone in the dark sky.

Wrapping his arms around you from behind, Marc nuzzled your cheek with his nose. "Can I ask you something? About your letter?"

"'Course," you murmured, tracing his forearm with your fingertips.

"What did you mean when you said I was the real Moon Knight?"

You thought for a moment, thinking back through the composition of your letter to him.

"Well...I mean - when Khonshu found you - or you found him, rather - he was in search of an avatar. The only reason he still has one is because you said yes. You're still the real Moon Knight," you explained. "I'm not saying you have to be him if you don't want to be. But if Khonshu wants Jake, he should be grateful to you. Otherwise, he might still be searching for an avatar."

"I guess so," he mumbled with a sigh. "Still prefers Jake though."

"For being a deity, he is dumb as a fucking rock sometimes," you sarcastically remarked. "I know you and Jake are different, but he may have noticed you share a body. If he needs Jake, he needs you. He needs Steven."

Marc was quiet for a few minutes, but it was a calm quiet, rather than the tension from earlier.

"I don't know, babe, I...I just can't seem to find my place in all this lately. And, believe me, I know how that sounds - a new husband, saying shit like that. It's not right."

"Sweetheart, you feel how you feel," you softly responded, resting your head against the solid warmth of his chest behind you. "You don't always have to make a judgment on that. You're too hard on yourself."

"That's what Steven says," he lightly chuckled. "You're much too hard on y'self, mate."

His terrible impression of his alter made you giggle.

"Well, you know he's right," you replied, "And - the other day, Steven told me I'm always right, so...I think you should really listen to us."

"Yeah..."

You hadn't noticed at first but the two of you had started to gently sway to the muffled tune drifting out a neighbor's open window. Something from the 1970s...American.

"Can I ask you something?" You echoed his question.

"Mm-hmm," he mumbled into your hair, pulling you impossibly closer.

"Do you want to be Moon Knight?"

He didn't answer for a while. And that pretty much told you everything you needed to know.

next->

@stormydaysxx @laaundromat @kindlover @flyestvenustrap @spxctorsslxt @deezisnotreal @stevenknightmarc @imonmykneessir @marvelouslovely-barnes @evilbubu @usualsworld @rivalriotrenegade @wordacadabra @this--is--music @i-still-dont-like-your-face @cicithemess2000  @avengersinitiative2012 @lockleywife @poppyflower-22 @thursdaywritings @scoliobean peregrine-nation local-mr-frog @bitchotine @ren-ni @valkyrie05x @randomhoex @tsukkie-daisuke @thebestrouge @mintellaine am i missing anyone? dividers by saradika

#with you fic #marc spector #steven grant #moon knight #mcu #marc spector x reader #jake lockley #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #moon knight x reader #moon knight fic #moon knight fanfic #moon knight fanfiction #marc spector x gn!reader #steven grant x gn!reader #jake lockley x gn!reader #marc spector x you #Steven grant x you #jake lockley x you #oscar isaac fic #moon boys #moon knight system

[janeyseymour]

Fire in My Heart (Repost due to mistake)

Anon asked for a mel x firefighter!reader, and I posted, but didn't realize I left out the end of it, so... repost!

Summary: There's an incident at Abbott, and you and your crew come to the rescue.

WC: ~3.4k

The two of you always joke about how ridiculous it is that you actually managed to find each other. Growing up, you had almost always had a crush on your teachers- particularly the ones with red hair. And for Melissa, she was absolutely fascinated with anything that had to do with firefighting as a little girl- it felt like it was in her blood to do something that had to do with fighting fire. 

You nudge her. So maybe she wasn’t doing something that had to do with fighting fire... but she was doing someone who fought fires for a living. She teases you right back.

“I’m sorry Ms. ‘I had a crush on all of my female teachers’.”

“Correction: I had a crush on most of my female teachers,” you tell her. Then you playfully shudder. “No one could’ve had a crush on Ms. Adams.”

“Okay, sorry,” Melissa rolls her eyes as she continues to pack your meals for your shift at the station. “I’m sorry Ms. ‘I had a crush on most of my female teachers.”

You shrug. “Eh, it worked in my favor. I got the hottest redheaded second grade teacher t’go out with me,” you grin as you wrap your arms around her waist. 

“Hell yeah it did,” she chuckles as she turns over in your arms to face you. “You got yourself a Philly eleven, and I got myself a Philly twelve. We’re the hottest couple in this city.”

You pat her backside as you realize you have to let her go. “Alright, babe. I’ll be home later tonight. Don’t start any Schemmenti style fires now?”

“I can’t make any promises, an’ you know that,” your girlfriend grumbles. “I swear, if Janine says one more thing about the stupid book fair, I’ll-”

“You’ll call your girlfriend and rant to her instead of bludgeoning the poor woman with a

copy of Peter Rabbit or lighting something on fire,” you tell her seriously. “Jesus, how did I end up dating someone from an arsonist family?”

“And that worked out in my favor,” Melissa wears a smirk on her face. “We Schemmenti’s can start the fires, but no one expects the chief’s family to be the ones starting them.”

“Please tell me that isn’t why you’re dating me,” you roll your eyes as she hands you your lunch bag.

“It’s not,” she promises you before adding on. “But it don’t hurt.”

You chuckle before picking up the rest of your bags. “Don’t start any fires that make my department have to come out to rescue you today.”

“That’s never happened,” Melissa retorts.

“Don’t let today be the first!” you call as you reach for the door. “I’ll see you later tonight, I love you!”

You can’t believe you have to go respond to a call from Abbott Elementary. As you’re driving, you have half a mind to call your girlfriend. She answers on the first ring.

“Melissa Ann Schemmenti, this fire that I’m responding to better not be because of-”

“It wasn’t me,” the second grade teacher tells you. She pulls away from the phone just slightly to scold a student for getting out of line. “Maya, this is a real fire! This is not a drill! Stop doing the Gritty!”

“Is everyone out of the building?” you grit out as you drive just the slightest bit faster.

The teacher looks around at all of the teachers holding up green pieces of paper. “Yes. And when you get here, don’t even bother looking for-” your phone clicks off. You assume a coworker of hers had come up to her, and no one knew that the two of you were dating.

As you pull up to the building, it’s clear that whatever set the alarm off isn’t too big of a deal. Still, you and your crew go in to survey the area. You know Melissa’s room number, and you immediately head in that direction, barking out orders to your coworkers as you go.

Melissa’s room looks perfect. It’s so... her. It’s filled with various signed sports gear and merchandise, but it also is flooded with pictures and drawings from the kids, and you can clearly see the bulletin board that displays different school projects they’ve completed. You nearly swoon.

You do a quick lap as you continue to make sure she didn’t somehow secretly start this fire. You stop at her desk when you see just the smallest corner of something sticking out from underneath her mousepad. You have to make sure it’s not any sort of evidence, so you lift her mousepad. Underneath, there’s a picture of the two of you. You do swoon at this. Even though neither of you are out, she still has a reminder of the two of you with her at all times.

“Oh, Mel,” you whisper, a smile appearing on your face. You quickly pull yourself together and continue on. You don’t see anything else that would make anybody suspicious of the Italian teacher, so you continue to the next rooms.

Janine’s room is quite the opposite of Melissa’s. You can’t explain why because she too has some memorabilia from sporting events in Philly, but-

“Hey, Y/N,” one of your men comes down the hall holding up a burnt shawl and a candle. “It looks like we found the culprit of this mess. Just a small little thing really in the teacher’s lounge.”

You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You were fairly certain your girlfriend hadn’t caused the fire... but now it was confirmed that you wouldn’t have to be bailing her out of jail today.

With a nod, you exit the building and tell everybody it’s safe to go back inside. Melissa is all grins when she sees you, but you remain professional. And she’s able to play it off that she’s beyond excited that they brought a tractor drawn aerial. 

She makes her way over to you. “Can I bring the kids out to look at the-”

You roll your eyes and nod. “But I can only stall for so long before the boys will start to catch on.”

Your girlfriend practically sprints away, giggling with glee, as she goes inside to retrieve her kiddos. 

When she brings out her students, you have to pretend like you’re annoyed that she’s wasting your time. 

“Ma’am,” you say. “We really do have to get-”

“Ain’t you the one who’s doin’ the fire safety meeting for the teachers later today anyway?” she challenges you, fully knowing you are.

You sigh. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Then you can stick around.” You don’t miss the wink and the licking of her lips. She finds you irresistible in your uniform.

While the kids are at lunch and recess, you have to hold the fire safety meeting. And Melissa is as brash as ever. You unfortunately have to ban open fires, and this sets off Barbara.

As Melissa runs out of the room, she gives you a look that asks for silent forgiveness, and you nod. You know she has to go check up on her best friend, and you need to continue your meeting.

After Barbara admits that she’s been dealing with Gerald’s health scare and the candle was 100% an accident, Melissa feels terrible. But she knows how she might be able to turn Barb’s mood around.

“I think I might have a roundabout way of getting you to be able to keep lighting your candles,” the redhead smirks.

“What do you- you heard the chief: no more open flames.”

“I can call in a favor,” Melissa nudges her. “I’m sure the chief can do something special for her girlfriend.”

The kindergarten teacher’s eyes go wide. “For her- her girl- Melissa Ann Schemmenti, how long have you kept this from me?!”

“I wasn’t keepin’ nothin’ from you,” your girlfriend laughs. “Ya never asked, so I never had to tell.”

“Oh, girl,” Barb howls. “You have some nerve, not telling me. I’m gonna need more details.”

“Maybe later,” Melissa rolls her eyes. “None of youse know, and none of her department knows we’ve been dating for the last three years and living together for the last year and a half.”

The kindergarten teacher looks at her best friend incredulously. “I’ve been to your house!”

“She’s always on shift, and we don’t have many printed pictures together; just digital copies,” the redhead shrugs. “Now c’mon. I have to convince my girlfriend to let my best friend continue to have candles. And then I gotta get my kids back outside to play on the truck.”

“Haven’t they been playing on the truck all day?”

“No,” she admits with a laugh. “That was my time. Now it’s theirs while I flirt with my girlfriend.”

“Miss fire chief?” Melissa asks all too innocently as the kids explore and play on your truck.

“Yes ma’am?” you reply, committed to your work persona of badass fire chief.

She glances around. Your coworkers are distracted with the kids, so she pulls herself slightly closer to you. “You think I can call in a favor?”

“And that would be?”

“Let Barb light her candles in exchange for her not killing me for not telling her about you?” Melissa asks hopefully. 

You hazard a glance at her. “Melissa.”

“I also need your help putting out my fire,” she says coyly as she daringly grabs your thigh. “Seeing you in uniform is... wow, babe.” She knows you’ll say yes now.

“Fine,” you groan. “But if this happens again, it’s on you. You hear me?”

“Yes, chief,” the teacher grins and mock salutes you. She stands next to you for a few more minutes before she has to call her kids back into the building for dismissal.

“Alright my little eagles, everybody say thank you to the firefighters!” Melissa grins. Her students do as she asks before they all head back in. She mouths a ‘thank you, love you’ to you while everyone else is preoccupied.

As you and your coworkers are heading back to the station, you hear one of them mention that ‘that redheaded teacher was a smokeshow’. You grip the wheel just a bit tighter. You almost say something right there, but you let them go. They’re right. Your girlfriend is a smokeshow, and she sure as hell knows it. They only continue making comments about her though, and suddenly you aren’t so happy.

One of the boys starts making rather vulgar comments, and-

“Oi,” you call from the front. “Will y’quit havin’ fantasies about my girlfriend?”

All of their eyes snap to you. “W-what, chief?”

“Stop thinking about my girlfriend like that,” you tell them again. “Or we’s gonna have a bigger problem than some little candle fire.”

“She’s your girlfriend?”

“Yeah, she is,” you huff. “Melissa. She’s a Schemmenti, and she’s mine. So any thoughts you have or had about her, clear your brains out, or I’ll have your asses. Are we clear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” they all mutter, heads down. Some of their cheeks are red.

“Wait a minute,” one of the younger firemen catches on. “Is she the one who made the ziti you brought to our Christmas party last year?” You nod. “Do you think she could make it again? That shit was off the charts. But, uh... only if she’s got time. Don’t wanna pressure her.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” you laugh. “She’s been pretty busy lately, teaching two grades. But maybe I can convince her to bring a couple trays of food down for all youse.”

Unbeknownst to you, Melissa finds herself in the same situation as you while everyone is gathering their things to leave.

“That woman was... wow,” a few of the other teachers say, and Melissa hears. She takes a deep breath. They’re allowed to say you’re pretty- they don’t know you two are dating. They start to take it to the next degree, and the redhead’s face is almost as red as her hair. Still, she tries not to overreact. She promised you she wouldn’t be the reason Abbott burnt to the ground. And then one of the fifth grade teachers says something so filthy about you that-

“Barb! Lemme go!” Melissa tries to fight her way out of her best friend’s arms, and Gregory and Ava are also quick to hold your girlfriend back. “He’s gotta know he doesn’t got any reason to talk about a woman like that! Much less, my woman!”

She doesn’t even realize what she’s said- she has no idea that she’s admitted to dating you. But everyone else heard her. They all freeze, all except Barb. Barb continues to try to hold Melissa back.

“Woah!” the fifth grade teacher surrenders. He puts his hands up, terrified of the redhead right now. “She’s your girlfriend?”

“She is, and you don’t get to think about her that way, much less speak about her like that,” Melissa grits out. “You even think about her again, and I swear to God, my foot will be so far up your-”

“Melissa!” the kindergarten teacher scolds.

She fixes her shirt as she huffs and pulls away. She storms out of the room, only to be followed by her usual crew.

“So... you’re dating the firechief?” Gregory asks as they exit the building. At Melissa’s nod, he says quietly, “That’s pretty cool. No wonder you know so much about the trucks.”

“Nah, I knew all that before I met Y/N. She just happened to be a firefighter when we met. Been promoted since, obviously.”

“That’s really nice, Melissa!” Janine grins. “So, when do we get to meet her?”

“Y’already met her,” the second grade teacher rolls her eyes and starts to head for her car.

“No, but like... really meet her?”

“We’re busy that day,” Melissa tells Janine. 

“I- I didn’t even give you a day,” the younger teacher looks hurt. 

“Regardless,” the redhead sighs. “She’s pretty busy. I’ll talk to her tonight when she gets home and see what we can-”

“You two live together?!” Jacob exclaims. 

“Have been,” your girlfriend snorts. “It ain’t news.”

“This is news to us though, Melissa!” Barbara chides her friend. “Even I didn’t know about Y/N! You pulled a Jacob on us!”

“Like I told you before, Barb, youse never asked. I’ll talk to her tonight and see if there’s a day we can have you all over, okay? Ya happy?”

“Delighted,” the kindergarten teacher smiles. “Alright, I have to get home to Gerald, but I will see all of you tomorrow.”

The rest of your day is rather uneventful, and the end of your shift couldn’t come soon enough. You know Melissa was all worked up seeing you in your uniform and having to be a hardass- something entirely different from what she sees at home. 

“Alright boys, I’m heading out for the day,” you tell your subordinates. “Don’t do anything where I would need to be called back in.”

As you’re just about to close the door, one of the men calls your name out. “Don’t forget to ask your woman if she’ll make us her ziti.”

When you walk into your house, Melissa is curled up on the couch, a glass of wine in hand. Her glasses are on the tip of her nose as she grades some of their writing.

“Hey, babe,” you smile as you make your way over, leaning down to kiss her. She tastes like wine, and it makes your head spin.

“Hey, yourself,” she says as her attention is back on her papers. Although she has changed her position so you can sit with her. “Your food is in the microwave, and your glass of wine is in the fridge.”

“Thanks,” you grin tiredly as you head to grab your food and drink. By the time you settle on the couch with Melissa, she’s already put her papers away.

“You didn’t have to put those away,” you tell her as you dig in. Funnily enough, you’re eating ziti tonight.

“I can grade during my prep tomorrow,” the teacher waves you off. “I just wanna look at you right now. Talk to you.”

Your heart practically melts. “Well, I pretty much know how your day went,” you tease her. “Harassed the firefighters all day to play on their truck. Anything interesting happen after I left? Is Barb okay?”

“Barb is fine,” Melissa assures you. She almost tells you that she told her coworkers about the two of you. But she doesn’t. “Did anything else happen after you left today?”

“Nothin that I had to go out for,” you tell her. “Although, the boys and I did have a pretty serious chat today.”

“Oh?” You can see her interest is piqued. “About new equipment?”

“About how they needed to stop thirsting over my girlfriend,” you say smugly. 

Her eyebrows shoot up. “Oh?” she breaks out into a grin. “I still got it.”

“You do,” you chuckle quietly as you lean into her. “And after I made it very clear that you were mine, and I’d have their asses if they made another vulgar comment about you... Jake, one of the newer kids, very sweetly asked if you could consider making another tray of ziti for them. I guess that reminded them all how much they loved your ziti because Vince mentioned it again on my way out.”

“Just take some of the leftovers in with you tomorrow,” your girlfriend laughs. “I’ll make another tray over the weekend too.”

“They’re all gonna be trying to steal you from me even more now,” you playfully pout. 

“‘N I’ll tell ‘em I only got eyes for my girl,” Melissa says sweetly as she presses a kiss to your temple. “For the fire chief. That I don’t go for the regular firefighters.”

“Should I remind you we started dating when I was just a ‘regular firefighter’?”

“But now you’re a firechief, and I won’t settle for less,” she grins. Then she gets the courage to tell you what she wanted to tell you earlier. “I guess we had a pretty similar conversation with our coworkers today about each other.”

You furrow your brows.

“One of the fifth grade teachers saw you today and was saying the filthiest things about what he would do to you if he could, and I almost lit his car on fire,” Melissa tells you.

“I told you I don’t want you committing arson for me,” you tease her. 

“Barb held me back, and I told the guy, I says, ‘you don’t get to think about her that way, much less speak about her like that,’ and then I told him if he did, my foot would be so far up his-” the redhead shakes her head. “That’s besides the point.”

You roll your eyes fondly. Of course she threatened the guy. “So everyone knows now.”

“Janine is already asking when they get to meet you,” Melissa sighs dramatically. “I told them we would find a day, but I also told her we’re always busy, so there’s really no pressure, hon.”

“I think it might be interesting to finally meet all of these people I’ve heard so much about,” you tell her. “We could have them over for a barbecue on Saturday?”

“That’s so soon though,” she grumbles. “And I just told you I would make a tray of ziti this weekend for your guys.”

“I think it would be nice, babe,” you try to convince her. “You can make the ziti Sunday, and- hopefully- it’s too last minute for some of them, so you’ll just end up with me and Barb anyway.”

“Okay, okay,” she says after a few beats. “I’ll tell ‘em tomorrow at lunch.”

Of course, they all show up to your house on Saturday. Of course they do. They’re thrilled to meet the woman who finally took Melissa Schemmenti off the market. 

Next

#melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x reader #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary #abbott elementary fanfiction

[koorminii]

relax with me | hwang hyunjin

It’s your turn to make noises now, it seems, because Hyunjin drags a moan out of you so loud that you’re worried the neighbours have heard. Your cheeks are red for a whole new reason now, and the fact that Hyunjin is yanking at the collar of your dress doesn’t help. You let him, you don’t care, you want to give Hyunjin everything, anything.

❥ pairing: hyunjin x f!reader ❥ genre: pwp (minimal), smut & fluff ❥ rating: 18+ ❥ word count: 3.4k ❥ warnings: grinding, kissing (??), clothed sex, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, first kiss, love confessions, idk they’re basically just grinding on each other outside, this looks so fluffy but it’s honestly quite filthy, this was from a wip that I’m most likely gonna scrap so there’s like no background info and there’s barely plot, i think that’s it… ❥ a/n: my first post on this acc!! please give it a read and I hope you enjoy ^^ it’s filthy in the way that they’re doing anything to get off but also sweet bc u can assume reader is a virgin! it’s very sweet posting this is making me wanna finish it but I doubt it very much

He smiles, takes your hand in his, squeezing gently. “I wanted to see you again,” he says shamelessly, tugging you a little closer when you duck your head, embarrassed.

“So shy,” he mumbles, lifting one of your hands to kiss the back of it.

You are dying, you’re sure of it. This is what death feels like. It feels good. And maybe it shouldn’t, because that’s a bit darker than your general way of thinking, and tastes a lot like self-sabotage, but you don’t stop the pestering thoughts from invading you.

“Can I take you to lunch?” Hyunjin suddenly asks, squeezing both of your hands, eyes hopeful as they bore into your own. You’re a mere human, and can't deny the man before you anything when he’s smiling at you like that— not even the fire on your cheeks, on your chest, in your blood, at this point— so you nod.

“I-I’d love that,” you whisper, and Hyunjin pulls you into a half hug where your head is buried into the crook of his neck in such a way that feels scarily intimate.

You pull the bike helmet out of your bag— you didn’t expect to need to use it until later this afternoon, and even then, you contemplated just running away and taking the bus instead— and pulled it over your head. Just like this morning, Hyunjin’s chest was firm beneath your hands, and you wondered what it would be like to rest your head against the heart that beat in time to the bursting of stars above your head in the night time.

And— and things escalate. You’re not dating, not really, but you go on lots of things that resemble dates. Hyunjin picks you up and drops you home from university almost everyday, and on those same days, will join you for lunch. Sometimes you two go out, other times you go back to the garage and eat in the back room. A handful of times you tried eating in the canteen, but Hyunjin never felt comfortable, and he put an end to that after a mere three sessions.

After nearly three weeks of said dates, some of which even taking place after hours at the garage, with you seated on the armchair or perched on top of the bench while Hyunjin worked on a car, or bike, you felt confident enough around him that staying the night to watch movies and eat pasta didn’t scare you.

Hyunjin had promised to make dinner, but had first said that he prepared a picnic lunch for them to have in the backyard. A picnic lunch— you really were living in a romance film.

Turns out Hyunjin lived behind the garage shop front. The block was larger than you had thought, extending backwards by such a length that there was a front lawn behind the garage that led to a house that, although old, was well looked after with rose bushes and large cherry blossom tree— which was unfortunately out of season, but you were sure it was beautiful in spring— and the front porch even had a rocking chair like some kind of fairy-tale.

The inside was unsurprisingly eclectic, with photos and art from Hyunjin and Jisung’s many travels hanging on the walls, and styled with repurposed or vintage furniture in a mismatched fashion that all seemed to work. In the living room, there was even one of the most exquisite paintings that you had ever seen, and when you had told Hyunjin as such, he was positively beaming, telling you that both he and Jisung had actually made it.

The two of them had been living together since they purchased the plot and old garage, and had been friends for almost as long as you and Felix had been. Their closeness seemed different, though. Whereas Felix and you were so clingy one would think you were touch-starved, Jisung almost seemed like a brother to Hyunjin.

Upon hearing this, Hyunjin sniggered, but there was a light of fondness in his eyes when he explained how much he cared for the younger boy. The kitchen was the oldest room in the house, as it was the only room to not have gone through some form of renovation, but it was quaint and cared for, with a bouquet of irises on the dining table. You looked at the array of photographs pinned to the side of the fridge as Hyunjin fluttered about the kitchen, packing up the picnic basket with food he’d prepared the night before.

Outside, the sun was warm, but not burning hot— it was the cusp of summer, after all. It was just the right temperature to be able to take their coats off without getting cold.

You propped yourself up on your arms. Legs stretched out on the blanket in front of you, and let your head fall back to the sun. Your eyes shut as you sighed, inhaling and smiling at the faint smell of oil in the distance. Beside you, you hear Hyunjin shift where he’s seated, followed by a sigh, and then an unexpected, though not unpleasant weight in your lap. Your eyes fluttered open to see Hyunjin curled up on your lap with his eyes closed and a faint grin.

Like this, he looks gentle— despite the bit of muscles that stretch the fabric of his shirt. You find you can't resist, and with the most delicate touch you can manage, combs your finger through the soft strands of Hyunjin’s hair. You feel the latter relax in your lap as you do, and a faint smile grows on your lips.

With one hand, you sneakily take a few photos with your phone, silently wishing you had your camera. You continue playing with his hair until Hyunjin is almost purring, writhing in your lap, and you have to bite your lip, turn away, and let the redness of your cheeks go down. When you turn back to look at him, Hyunjin’s eyes are already open and watching you. They look a little distant and hazy, as if he were waking from a deep sleep, but no less beautiful than usual.

He stretches, arms above his head, making his shirt rise up around his hips. You divert your eyes, but can't miss the muscle of his hips or the trail of hair leading down below the waistband of his jeans. In another universe, a confident version of you is placing your lips there, pressing open mouthed kisses on the pale skin of Hyunjin’s stomach, tasting it, even, but in this universe, you want the ground to swallow you whole even just thinking of it.

Hyunjin calls your name,, not in greeting or question, but as if just saying it because he could. Because he liked the way it sounded on his tongue. You liked it too, much more than you cared to admit, but you're sure Hyunjin knew that already.

“Baby,” he says, this time pinching your side a little, but not enough to hurt. You smile so he knows you're listening, and it only gets stronger when Hyunjin laughs.

“Mhm, baby, I need to tell you something.”

Your heart, first and foremost, sometimes cannot handle being called baby, Felix and Jisoo, who have done it on the rare occasion you’re either particularly sleepy, homesick, or unwell; never had you been called baby by anyone other than your mother in such an open, non-vulnerable position before. You liked it— loved it, even, if the roaring heat on your cheeks and chest meant anything.

“W-what is it?”

There’s a moment where neither of you are speaking, possibly not even breathing, but just staring at one another. That’s not necessarily uncommon, but the tone between you two now differs from before, because Hyunjin’s face is gradually getting closer and closer to your own, by pushing himself up on one hand. Soon, Hyunjin’s face is directly across and in front of your own; he's no longer laying his head in your lap, and the cool air hits your now exposed thighs with a shiver.

Hyunjin’s eyes flicker downwards, to your mouth, and You feel relatively prepared this time—Hyunjin is always giving you little cheek kisses, and you won’t let it startle you this time around.

Hyunjin is propped up on one hand, and the other comes up to cup the side of your neck. You feel overly sensitive—can feel the calluses of his labour but the softness that surrounds it; can feel the puff of breath he releases against the tip of nose, his lips. Hyunjin tilts his head up the tiniest bit, but there are no lips on your cheek or at the corner of your mouth or on your forehead like those times before.

Instead, there’s a pair pressing against your lips, soft and wet with a taste of vanilla, and maybe it lasts six hours or two seconds or it was all in your head, but when Hyunjin pulls away, he doesn’t go very far, and presses his kisses into the skin of your throat instead.

“Baby,” he says again, rougher this time, like he’s choking on his own tongue.

He doesn’t bite at his neck, but you feel your skin prickle against every kiss placed gently against you. You mustn’t be breathing, because you feel lightheaded, more so than usual than when you’re with Hyunjin, and the elder must notice. He draws back, eyes staring into your own.

“Baby, breathe,” and you do, because you live to please, and it's rugged and rough like you’d just been on a run, but your head clears the tiniest bit—enough for you to realise that the kiss did happen, and it wasn’t a figment of your imagination.

“Was- was that okay?”

For the first time You hear Hyunjin stutter. Confident and brave Hyunjin, stuttering because he thinks he’s upset you, did something you didn’t want. If only he could read your thoughts, understand what you were feeling right now, instead of only being able to see the shock written on your face.

And this must be some kind of role reversal bullshit you’re too stupid to understand, because from somewhere deep within you, or maybe from Hyunjin himself, You grab Hyunjin’s face within both of your hands—softer than Hyunjin’s ever would be, but no gentler—and kisses him with as much energy and emotion and love that you can.

Hyunjin is stiff at first, no doubt shocked at your unbidden confidence, but soon relaxes into; he melts. Hyunjin groans, falling into you, his hands trailing down your arms, around your waist, where they lock together in a secure embrace.

You have no experience kissing beyond the two pecks you’ve ever received in your life—one of which was a mere minute ago—so you do what you think is right, what feels right.

Hyunjin is doing that purring thing especially, and it only gets louder when you turn your head for a better fit. Your own hands disappear from Hyunjin’s face, up around his neck, and drag Hyunjin’s body closer to yours. You’re both seated facing each other, but the closer you drag him, the more entangled you become.

Soon, Hyunjin’s tearing away from you, chest heaving and panting and eyes glassy, but props himself up on his knees so he can hover over you, before caging you between his thighs. You gasp, but it’s swallowed up by Hyunjin’s mouth all over again, and you let your hands slide up the back of the mechanics loose t-shirt. Your skin is warm, and Hyunjin hums into your mouth when he presses you closer, your chests pressing together with each movement. Hyunjin’s tongue is begging at your mouth, and your confidence is starting to run out, but you let him anyway.

It’s your turn to make noises now, it seems, because Hyunjin drags a moan out of you so loud that you’re worried the neighbours have heard. Your cheeks are red for a whole new reason now, and the fact that Hyunjin is yanking at the collar of your dress now doesn’t help.

You let him, you don’t care, you want to give Hyunjin everything, anything.

You think maybe it’s moving too fast, but you don’t want to stop. You think Hyunjin ends up ripping the buttons of the dress open, too desperate to waste time unbuttoning it, and you’ll probably be annoyed later—but now, you groan again, finding his urgency unfairly attractive. Suddenly, Hyunjin’s lips are pulled away from yours again, and you whine loudly, chasing after him. You succeed, biting at Hyunjin’s bottom lip to get him to open up again, but it doesn’t last long.

You’re pushed back gently, and Hyunjin pecks at your lips repeatedly until you feel your back hit the ground. Then, like every girl’s wet dream, the beautiful man is crawling up your body, till he’s seated, straddling your hips and grabbing your hands to hold by your head.

Hyunjin then proceeds to kiss the shit out of you, till you’re breathless and whimpering, and desperately trying to avoid bucking your hips upwards into him. Eventually, Hyunjin drags his mouth away, replacing it at your neck. You’re gasping against him, and you curl into his touch, whimpering when sharp teeth finally nip at you. There’s a tongue soothing the wound, sucking at the same spot, laying over it. You can feel yourself starting to shake, whimpering more often than not, before you’re yanking your hands free from Hyunjin’s hold, and dragging his face back up. You can feel Hyunjin smiling into it, chuckling just the tiniest bit, but resume kissing him.

One of Hyunjin’s now-free hands cradles your neck, fingers massaging into your shoulders as he licks into you; the other roams down your body, before it grasps at the underside of thigh and yanks it upward, wraps it around his own waist.

You throw your head back when Hyunjin grinds against you, hard and hot where you’re pressed together. You had known yourself to be wetter than ever before in your panties—it was constricting, almost uncomfortable—but you hadn’t expected Hyunjin to be as turned on as you clearly were.

Hyunjin, who had had partners before, and plenty of experience, turned on by just kissing you.

It spurred confidence and pride within yourself, and you continued rolling your hips and forcing them upwards with as much power and rhythm as you could. Hyunjin whimpered with you, forcing the leg further up his side, closer to him, until you were matching each other’s thrusts.

Your kisses died out, gasping into each other’s mouths instead.

One of your hands tangles itself into Hyunjin’s hair, yanking slightly just to see the way Hyunjin bites his bottom lip. Running on your confidence high, you let your other hand trace down Hyunjin’s chest, making the elder shiver, until you slide it over the bulge in Hyunjin’s jeans like you’d seen in those cheesy romance movies before.

The reaction is immediate: Hyunjin groans loudly, grinds against you harder, rougher, and though the denim-on-cloth action really limits how much friction you can create, you don’t want to stop—even to remove the barriers.

You feel like a teenager, but you’re close.

You’re close.

You feel like you’ve been whimpering this entire time, non-stop just crying into Hyunjin’s lips, but Hyunjin isn’t much better. He’s given up trying to kiss you, so instead bites and sucks at your throat and collarbones, leaving as many marks as he can. On one particularly hard roll of his hips, your head falls to the side, and your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“I—we shouldn’t,” Hyunjin is panting right by your ear, but despite his words, his hips don’t stop.

In fact, Hyunjin shifts a little so he’s back on his knees, and the change in angle means Hyunjin has more power, and then they enter an all different ball game. He grabs your hips roughly, pushing the hem of your dress above your waist.

You can’t speak anymore—feel yourself choking on your own words, on his tongue, letting out nothing coherent, only breathless little squeaks and the occasional moan. You’re sweaty, you can feel a bead of it down your temple, and you can’t really focus on Hyunjin, but you’re sure the elder isn’t much better.

“Fuck,” You hear him say, and that only gets you wetter, if that were even possible and—shit. You were going to come. You were going to come from a bit of teenage grinding.

“Fuck,” you hear again, Hyunjin’s voice cracking and high in pitch, similar to your own, and his hips are starting to lose their rhythm.

“I-I,” you start, stop, your own moan cutting you off. Hyunjin’s face is closer to yours again, hand tightening around your thigh, heat tingling even in your toes.

“Uhh, baby,” he pants, mouth pressing a wet kiss to your forehead, then another to your mouth.

He lingers there for a little, until neither of you can breathe, and you’re gasping at each other again. You suddenly move so you can hook your other leg around Hyunjin’s waist, which the elder immediately catches and drags around himself tighter, and your arms loop around his neck.

You grip tightly into his shirt, the material scrunching up under your hold, but Hyunjin doesn’t relent. His thrusts, though sloppier now than before, were no less powerful—if anything, they got more so, and if you had a clear head, you’d make a mental note to ask him if he had ever dislocated them.

“Hyunjin-Hyunjin,” you beg, almost a squeal, and Hyunjin swears against you again. “I’m—I’m gonna’ come,” you say, and this time, the moan that rips from Hyunjin is animalistic, and he’s pulling back to stare at you in the eyes.

“Shit, fuck—c’mon baby, come for me.”

And you do.

It's immediate, permission granted and you obey. You lock around Hyunjin’s body, hips still working against each other, and your head is thrown back from the force of your orgasm, tightening and then loosening and tightening all over again when Hyunjin’s hips don’t give up.

You’re whining, louder than before, at the sensitivity and the discomfort in your panties, and you feel Hyunjin slowing down.

“No! No, no,” you beg, eyes wide, alarmed, and Hyunjin’s eyes are darker than you’ve ever seen them, hungry, like a starved man hunting down his prey. “Don’t stop, please, please, don’t stop—”

And then Hyunjin is swallowing your words with his mouth and with a groan, hips resuming their hurried dance, until you’re practically screaming beneath him, your pussy that had long since checked out now logging right back on, soaking where it’s still trapped in your ruined underwear. Hyunjin can’t stop swearing against your neck, can’t stop biting it, and you’re sure you’re going to look absolutely mauled later, but you can’t bring yourself to regret it—at least, not right now.

When Hyunjin comes, it’s with a guttural moan, and one last thrust; it’s with a grip on your thighs and his mouth hanging open and eyes squeezed shut as he works through it. It might’ve been the situation in its entirety, or the oversensitivity, or maybe just Hyunjin’s expression alone—but whatever it was, it sent you over the edge a second time, this orgasm far shorter than the first, but no less powerful.

When you slump back against the grass, Hyunjin half falls atop of you, supporting himself on his forearms so he doesn’t drop his entire weight on you. You want to feel every line of him against your body, but you can barely breathe as it is, so later, you’ll demand cuddles.

For now, you let Hyunjin press soft kisses into your mouth, calm and peaceful compared to the ones they shared moments ago, and for the first time in probably forever, you can’t bring yourself to feel embarrassed.

“Baby,” Hyunjin starts, chest still heaving, words made mostly of air. “I really, really like you.”

Ah—there it is.

“I swear it’s not just—it’s not just because of—”

You shut him up with a chaste kiss, “I know, I know.”

Hyunjin kisses you again, softer this time, lingering. He pulls away, only to press one last kiss to your bottom lip.

“C’mon, let’s clean up and go eat.”

a/n: i hope you enjoyed! <33 tysm for reading!!

#stray kids x reader #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin smut #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin imagines #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz smut #skz x reader

[pedrito-friskito]

strawberry wine - joel miller x fem!reader

before - part two

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

you and joel go on your first date, and get to know each other a little better.

a/n: this story has taken over my BRAIN. thank you all for hyping it up, it’s literally falling out of me and I can’t wait to share more!! 🤍 (also moodboard pics are not meant to depict the reader exactly, only fic aesthetic!)

word count: 3.4k

warnings: MY BLOG IS 18+, MINORS DNI - this part is not explicit but other parts will be, some heavy petting, more fluff, more banter, joel miller deserves the world and I wanna give it to him

✨I no longer have a taglist - if you’d like to be notified of new works/chapters, follow @friskito-library and turn on notifications!✨

He’s ten minutes late.

There was a warning, at least. You’d planned for seven thirty, and he called at quarter past, a twinge of annoyance in his tone as he apologized, told you he was running late, apologized again. You brushed it off, told him to take his time, that there was no rush. He sounded genuinely upset, and it made your chest ache a little. “It’s okay, Joel,” you’d said, trying to reassure him. “I’ll see you when you get here.”

“M’sorry,” he grumbled into the phone, and you could almost see the nervous hand on the back of his neck. “Don’t want you to think m‘not lookin’ forward to this or nothin’. I am. Just for the record.”

You stifled your grin. “Zip it. See you soon, Miller.”

“See you soon,” he replied, and you both hung up a second later.

The rest of the week had felt like a year. You’d slept fitfully after your late-night call with Joel, and you nearly toppled over when he showed up at the store on Wednesday, just after nine, a cup of coffee with your name literally scrawled on it pushed across the counter to you.

“Think of it as an apology for keeping you up last night,” he drawled, giving you a half-smile.

“I thought you were making that up to me with dinner on Friday,” you replied, lifting a brow as you lifted the coffee to your lips.

“You tellin’ me you don’t want the coffee?” he asked, reaching his hand out. “Cuz I’ll take it right back if you don’t.”

“I didn’t say that,” you shot back, slapping his hand playfully. “Seven thirty?”

The half grin turned full. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

He hadn’t come into the store Thursday, instead leaving you a slightly rambling voicemail; your cell battery died and you didn’t realize until you were heading to bed.

Hey, it’s me. Just callin’ to see how your day was, sorry I didn’t stop by today. Job ran long and Tommy is…well, maybe I’ll tell you when I see you. Really lookin’ forward to tomorrow night. Sleep well. Bye.

Friday you actually had off, your sister taking the opening shift and your father waving you off when you offered to work the afternoon. “Almost seems like you’re at the store more than you’re home, honey. I got it, don’t worry.”

You left Joel an equally as rambling voicemail.

Hey you, it’s me. Just wanted to call, see how your day’s going. I won’t be at the store today, if you stop by, Dad gave me the day off, says I work too much or something. Whatever that means. Anyway…I’ll see you tonight. Can’t wait. Bye!

The doorbell rings at precisely 7:41, and you bolt for it, bare feet nearly slipping on the hardwood. You yank the door open a little harder than necessary, your eyes meet Joel’s, and your breath gets stuck in your throat. “Sorry I’m late,” he stumbles out, and you bite your lip as his eyes rake over you. “These are for you.” Your face goes hot as he steps through the door, presenting a bouquet of daisies that only look slightly squished. “You look…beautiful.” You whisper your thanks as you take the flowers from him, your head automatically tilting to the side when he leans down and presses a stubbly kiss to your cheek.

He looks impossibly handsome, in that rugged way of his. The t-shirt had been swapped for a nice flannel shirt, the sleeves still struggling against his biceps, the top two undone buttons giving you a generous view of his collar. He’s trimmed his beard a little, his hair messy in an artful sort of way that you’re not sure is on purpose or not, but still manages to work.

“This old thing?” you ask, lifting the bouquet to your nose as you turn and head for the kitchen, inhaling the sweet scent of the flowers. You look at him over your shoulder. “You want a drink or something, before we go?”

He hangs around the front door for a moment before toeing off his shoes — the same pair of work boots he seems to live in — and walking towards the kitchen to join you. “Nobody else home?”

“Nope,” you reply, popping the p as you find a vase in one of the many kitchen cabinets, walking over to the sink to fill it. “Dad’s at the store, my mother has her book club, and my sister went out with some friends.” You arrange the daisies as nicely as you can in the vase, beaming at him as you do. “These are great, Joel, you didn’t have to.”

“Felt bad about being late,” he says, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck, the other stuffed in the front pocket of his jeans. He looks nervous. “I gotta admit, it’s a long time since I’ve been on a first date.”

You give him a flat stare. “This is a date?” His face drops and you can’t keep a straight face, instantly bursting into giggles. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”

He just grins, red along his cheekbones, shaking his head at you. “You are somethin’ else, you know that?”

“And yet, you still want to take me to dinner,” you laugh, setting the vase in the middle of the kitchen table. “That is still the plan?” 

“Put your shoes on,” he commands, still shaking his head, “before I change my mind.” 

You brush past him as you head for the front door, giving him a cheesy grin, and his hand skims against the small of your back, sending a shock along your spine. You do as you’re told, slipping on your sandals and fishing your keys out of the dish by the door, letting him step through the door before you pull it shut and lock up. 

The pick-up is parked at the curb, and he opens the passenger’s side for you, offering his hand to help you up into the cab. “A gentleman,” you murmur, giving him a wink, and he shakes his head at you again.

He slides into the driver’s seat a moment later, slides the key into the ignition. You buckle your seatbelt, but pause when you realize he hasn’t started the truck, and is frozen in place, hands gripping the wheel, his expression almost grim.

“Joel?”

“I have a daughter,” he says, the words seeming to hang in the air between you. “Her name is Sarah, she’s eleven. Her mother isn’t in the picture, but I had to tell you cuz I…” He trails off, gripping the wheel so tight his knuckles go white before he releases it completely, dropping his hands into his lap. “I don’t want you to think I’m tryna hide anything from you.”

Your brow furrows, and you reach across, finding one of his hands, sliding your fingers through his. “I don’t think that, Joel.”

“S’why I was late,” he explains, and the twinge in his voice on the phone earlier makes sense. He stares down at your joined hands, rubs his thumb over the back of your hand. “Tommy said he’d come stay with her while I was out, but he was late and she got it in her head that she didn’t need a babysitter. Ripped me a new one for it.”

You huff a little laugh. “Sounds like a handful.”

“She’s not,” he says quickly, still staring at your hands. “She’s a great kid. Smart as hell, funny.” He chuckles. “Stubborn.”

“I hope I get to meet her,” you say, squeezing his fingers, “someday.”

“Someday,” he repeats.

He stares at you a long moment, those dark eyes suddenly feeling unfathomably deep, and you bite your bottom lip. There’s not much space between you; it’d be all too easy to lean across the console, put your fingers under that scruffy chin and your lips on his.

Joel almost jumps, flinching you both out of each other’s eyes, a nervous smile tugging at his mouth. He drops your hand to start the engine, pulls on his seatbelt. You go to pull your arm back, but he catches your fingers again before you can, letting your linked hands rest on his thigh as he pulls away from the curb, his palm warm against your own.

+

Dinner is delicious, some little hole-in-the-wall Italian place you’ve never heard of, no doubt a result of your more recent move to Austin. The conversation comes easy, and Joel only lets go of your hand when it’s time to eat, the pair of you talking over glasses of red wine and candlelight. 

He talks about Sarah a lot, the so-called secret of his daughter not a secret anymore, and you listen intently. He raised her himself, from what you can tell, the details of her mother scant and said with a thin thread of bitterness. But the smile on his face as he talks about his daughter, it’s easy to see how proud he is of the person she’s grown into, and you hang off his every word.

He talks about Tommy, too. Mainly how much of a shithead he is, and you nearly spit out your wine. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s a good guy,” he amends, lifting a shoulder. “He’s just…he makes some bad decisions sometimes, y’know?” You nod. “I’ve had to bail him out more times than I can count.”

You nod. “Younger siblings are like that.”

“Your sister’s been to jail?” he asks bluntly, and you almost choke on your wine again.

“My sister? The apple of my parents’ eyes? Hah.” You set the glass down again. “No, but she likes to party. I’ve had to go pick her up more than once since I’ve been back, late nights, early mornings, whatever. Although, one night, if I hadn’t shown up when I did, she probably would have spent the night in the back of a cop car.” You plant your elbow on the table, push your cheek against your fist. “All I mean is, I’m sure your brother is appreciative.”

Joel scoffs, taking a healthy sip of his own wine. “Yeah, I know he is.” His brows lift for a moment. “Sure has a funny way of showing it sometimes.”

You let out a quiet laugh, crossing your ankles beneath the table, letting your foot knock against his shin. He’s sitting beside you, rather than across from you, and the closeness has made the air thick between you since you sat down. “Now, tell me something about yourself.”

“Like what?” he stutters out, brow creasing as he sets his glass back down.

“You’ve told me all about Sarah and Tommy and your job, but what about you?” 

The crease just deepens. “What d’you wanna know?”

You think for a moment, pursing your lips. “Your favourite book.”

He gives you a long look, tongue poking the inside of his cheek, shoulders up around his ears. His eyes seems to glitter in the low light of the restaurant, the candlelight dancing off his features. He pushes a hand through his hair, mussing it further, and the motion is so endearing you want to squeal. He parts his lips, the answer about to fall from his lips, and then he shakes his head, wrenching his eyes from yours. “Nah.”

“Tell me!” you insist, putting your chin in your hands and batting your lashes at him. “Please?”

Joel licks his bottom lip, and then finally: “To Kill a Mockingbird.”

A smile spreads across your face. “I love that book.”

He laughs. “Do you? Been a while since I read it, I just remember really liking it.” His shoulders unravel a bit, relaxing into his seat, and he reaches for your hand again, swiping his thumb over your knuckles. “Tell me yours.”

It goes back and forth like that for hours. Favourite books, movies, songs, the first record you ever bought, the first drink you ever had. First jobs, first cars, on and on and on. Stories about your families, good and bad, a few from Joel that line your eyes with tears, a few from you that have him gaping at you like a fish.

You talk your way through dessert — a slice of the best chocolate cake you’ve ever tasted split between the two of you — and when the waiter brings the cheque, you don’t miss the way Joel’s throat bobs at the price. He goes quieter, his face a little sullen, and the look only deepens when his card is declined. The waiter tries it again, trying to blame it on a picky machine, but the same thing happens.

“Just give us a sec?” you ask the waiter, and he gives you a little smile before disappearing. Joel grunts in frustration. “It’s okay, I got it.”

He tries to wave you off when you reach for your wallet, muttering under his breath about cash in his car, but his protests stop when you plant a hand on his thigh beneath the table, leaning across the small space between you to kiss his cheek. He freezes for a moment, but then melts again, his eyes slipping shut when you press two fingers beneath his chin, his pulse a riot against your fingertips.

“I got it.”

The drive home is mostly quiet, your mind a little buzzed — partially from the wine (you’d downed the rest of your glass and Joel’s once the bill had been paid, refusing to let good wine go to waste) and partially from how good he’d smelled when you kissed his cheek. Earthy and rugged, but something softer underneath, like honey and lemon, warm and comforting, the kind of scent you want to wrap yourself in. In the cab of his truck again, his hand finds yours, but this time you pull his arm across to you, wrapping both your arms around it, sighing heavily when his hand wraps around your thigh, the fabric of your dress the only thing between him and bare skin.

He parks at the curb again, gets out first and runs around the front of the truck to your side, opening the door and offering his hand again. His palm rests against the small of your back as he walks you towards the porch. “I’m sorry, again, about the bill and everything,” he mumbles.

You nudge your shoulder against his chest. “You apologize too much, Joel Miller. I had a great time.”

The corner of his mouth quirks. “Me too.”

There’s an awkward pause at the door. The house is dark; it’s late now, your conversation having carried nearly until the restaurant closed, and your parents are no doubt asleep inside, your sister probably still out. You half-wonder if you’ll get some drunken phone call from her later.

Joel takes his hand off you only to stuff both in his pockets, swaying back and forth on his feet as you fish your keys out of your purse. “I got a job Monday afternoon,” he tells you, and you lift a brow. “I’ll stop by in the morning?”

You give him a little grin. “I’ll be there.”

He’s staring at your mouth. Full-out, no subtleties, and a rush sweeps through you when he leans forward, one hand reaching out to cover your hip. Taking a deep breath, his scent filling your nose, everything in you deflates slightly when he kisses your cheek instead of your mouth, and before you can protest, he’s turning and heading back down the driveway.

You watch him leave, tucking your thumb between your teeth. The broad shoulders, the way his hips move as he walks. You know for a fact you didn’t read things wrong, but then why—

He stops, halfway between the porch and his truck. His hands are curled into fists at his sides, and he turns slowly, eyes meeting yours across the dark driveway. Before you can get a word out, he’s sprinting back up to the porch, your keys and purse falling to the concrete steps as he yanks you into his arms and kisses you.

One arm tight around your waist, the other delving into your hair as he presses his lips to yours. He tastes like chocolate, the sweetness heavy on his tongue, and the feeling of his mouth makes stars spark behind your eyes. You wrap both arms around his shoulders, squeezing him against you, your feet kicking up in the air as he lifts you off them. There’s a bit of teeth, a bit of tongue, and you can’t help the little noise that tumbles out of you. Joel kisses it right out of your mouth.

You’re both breathless as he releases you, slowly letting you back down to your feet, his arms still around you. You can feel the twitch in his biceps as he puts you down, and your palms rest flat on his shoulders, mouth dragging up from your lips to your cheek to your forehead as you return to the ground.

“I…” you mumble, but nothing else follows. You’re speechless.

He grins. “Been wanting to do that since I first saw you.”

“Tonight?” you ask, finding your voice. “Or at the store?”

“The store,” he replies, tilting his head to the side and pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Then again when I saw you in the bathroom.” Another kiss. “And again when you opened the door earlier.” He ducks his head now, drags his mouth over yours, this kiss fleeting and making you ache for more. “Feels like every time I see you is the first time.”

You dig your fingers into his shoulders, chasing his lips, taking his bottom one between your own. “You’re a romantic, Joel Miller.”

“Just for you,” he replies, and your chest erupts with warmth, linking your hands around his neck as he kisses you again.

+

After your first date, Joel becomes a fixture at the hardware store.

He learns your schedule, meshes it with his own, and his visits become a daily occurrence. He pops in at a different time every day, but you don’t care, grinning like the devil when his truck pulls up outside. It’s usually between jobs, or on his way to one. Usually, he actually needs some sort of supplies, but more often than not, he hunts you down in the store, dragging you to an empty corner or aisle and kissing the breath from your lungs.

You take your breaks when he shows up most days, dragging him out of the store and to the coffee shop across the way, filling him with caffeine and some kind of pastry between your stolen kisses. He always grumbles at you when you pay for his coffee, but you’re quick to remind him that he has a kid to feed, you don’t.

Nearly two weeks after your first date, he leads you down the alley beside the hardware store, a hungry look in his eye that has you aching. Your back hits the bricks, and he follows, his body pressed between your legs, arms wrapped around your middle, yours around his broad shoulders. He kisses his way from your mouth down to your throat, following the line of your jaw and leaving tiny nips as he goes.

“Come over tonight,” he murmurs, and you suck down a breath as his hips slot against yours. You’re not immune to the press of his body, the friction between you making you want more. “I’ll ask the neighbours to watch Sarah. Make you dinner, watch a movie.”

“Dinner and a movie?” you quip, tilting your head back as he fits his face into your neck again. You tangle your fingers in his hair. “Pretty classic second date there, Miller.”

He grunts into your skin, pressing your further into the bricks. You can feel the bulge between his legs, the press of denim against the soft cotton of your shorts. Your knee lifts, thigh dragging up the outside of his. “I can take you out instead,” he says into your throat. “Tommy owes me some cash, I can—”

“Hush,” you murmur, tugging lightly on his hair until his head lifts, those dark eyes meeting yours, pupils blown wide as dinner plates. “Your place sounds perfect. We don’t have to go anywhere.” You lean forward, brush a soft kiss across his mouth. “Just as long as I’m with you. Hell, we could eat cereal in our underwear for all I care.”

His brow lifts. “In our underwear, huh?”

You shrug, grinning. “Well, you’ve already seen me mostly naked,” you quip, “underwear seems like the next logical step.”

“A towel is not mostly naked,” he tells you, kissing you again, “just for the record.” He squeezes your hip, pulls back slightly as you lower your leg, your knees shaking beneath you. “But I’d like to. See you naked, that is.”

You stifle your giggle, heat pooling between your legs despite it all. “Play your cards right, and maybe you will.”

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#my fics #strawberry wine #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #the last of us #the last of us fic #the last of us spoilers

[heartfullofleeches]

Check-In at Ruthieland

Yandere Park Staff + G.N Reader

Summary: A gift from the park's mascot leads to an unexpected surprise

Warnings: None/Slight horror elements 

Word Count: 3.4k

The mug shaped candy has merged with its wrapping by the time you pick it up. 

Almost two weeks since your last annual visit to Ruthieland – the remaining tickets left tucked in their envelope and stored in a secure location. Your encounter with the park's main mascot repeats are the only thing you can retell vividly from that day, yet it all still feels like a dream. Ruthie hasn’t been seen in person since you were a kid for reasons even you were in the dark about. Why were they bringing him back now?

Beloved Showrunner Ruthie Hare makes a comeback in time for the reopening of hotel. 

That seemed like reason enough. The article pops up in your news feed while browsing online, the hare's buck tooth grin catching you off guard enough for you to drop your phone on your face. Recovering from the sting, you skim over the letter and from what you read Ruthie had been seen in lesser populated areas of the park gifting the same candies he gave you to random families with park staff informing them to keep hold of them. The park's office social media page has almost just released news that every person giving a candy would be invited to the grand reopening of their main hotel.

So that’s why Ruthie gave you the candy. Since you hadn’t seen him since you were a kid, the costume probably just looked stranger than you remembered, or went through a design change. What about that note he gave you? “Somebunny likes you.” It could be that one of the park attendants has developed a thing for you giving your constant visits, but was too shy to approach in person and managed to pull a few strings for you. Anything was possible, but the conclusion allayed your concerns well enough for the idea of a vacation to sound appealing. If things continued to work in your favor then maybe the park's recluse owner would show their face again, and you'd get to see an old friend one more time. 

-

The information for the contest comes within the following week. A week long stay at the refurbished hotel with all expenses paid, and general admission to the park for each day of your stay. A couple signatures and all is set for your departure. The date of the trip was only a few days away by the time everything was in order, your belongings packed the night before. The brochure included in your mail gave details of a shuttle leaving for the hotel from the usual pick up location at 7am; two full hours before opening. You arrive a quarter before, and are surprised to see only one other person waiting. The others possibly drove, or were running closer to the assigned schedule. Someone off to your side whisper shouts to their companion.” 

“I told you they'd be here.- Y/n, hey, over here!”

Drawing your attention to their ambush, you barely have time to react as your assailant rushes you and smothers you in the fuzzy sleeves of their oversized coat. As she lets you go and picks up her suitcase thrown aside in her sprint, you find the woman to be none other than the park attendant responsible for the theft of your ticket stubs, Ell. Two others catch up with her. Atlas, the head of security, and someone you aren't sure you're familiar with. A medical mask obscures the lower half of their face and a baseball cap makes up for the rest. The former two were frequent faces you'd see around the park, and people you considered friends for the most part. 

“Ell? Atlas? What are you doing here?”

Atlas shoots a side eye at Ell. “Someone managed to get their hands on some of the prize candies when it was mentioned in a meeting that staff members weren't eligible to win.”

“They never said anything about coming in on a day off. If they had a real problem with it, we wouldn't even be here. Everyone knows the park's royalty was bound to win, and I believe I speak for all of us when I say getting to spend some time with them on vacation is too good to pass up.”

Atlas chokes on his tongue; lips wired shut as his brain attempts to come up with a cognate reply. He looks around for a way out, eyes landing on your bag and the transport pulling up to dock.

“Heh- would you look at that? The bus is here. Those look heavy, Y/n. I'll carry those up for you. ‘Cuse me”

Atlas squeezes past the two and snatches up your bags as he heads towards the bus. Ell throws an arm over the other member of their party. 

“Anyway- despite popular belief it wasn’t me who took the candies. Found this thief with a couple in their bag and they offered me one to keep quiet. Then Atlas found us out and we had to bribe him for the same prize.”

The stranger tugs on the strings of their hoodie. “I'm not a thief…. Like you said earlier, Y/n was likely to win, and I wanted to see them more than just once a month.” 

Their voice is muffled by the face guard, but you recognize that tone. “Cass?”

They make eye contact with you for the first time that morning - before immediately looking away. “hi, Y/n.” 

Ell stares at them puzzled. “You have an actual name? Why have we been calling you-"

“Let's go, guys! It's ten past seven.”

Atlas slaps on the side of the bus to get his point across. Ell and Cass toss their bags in the undercarriage and follow you on the bus. The exterior is different from the typical pink decal and mascot characters acting out different scenes depending on the vehicle. Instead, the paint job had been switched to solid white with a streak  of red around the middle like a bow and the silhouette of Ruthie's head acting as the ribbon. You stare at it for a while, the trance broken by Cass bumping into you. 

“sorry…”

“It's alright. Go on ahead.”

Cass hesitates, but moves on ahead to avoid conflict. They stand at the back of the bus, waiting to see where you sit. Being the last one on board, Ell shoves you into the closest available seat right behind Atlas and sits beside you. Cass takes the bench from across you.

Atlas is the first to strike up conversation- despite Ell being right over your shoulder. “Hey, Y/n. I've been meaning to ask you, how exactly did you win lifetime tickets to Ruthie's?”

“That’s right- your family moved you away after they heard about the field trip. It was a contest in elementary where we had to write a letter explaining what we'd do if we won tickets to the park. That’s how I met Cass actually. They deliver the tickets. I still don't know how I won.” 

Ell butts in. “Maybe it's because you’re besties with the owner. What’s their name again? Wayne?”

“Wyatt. We didn’t really know each other well because their dad kept them at home, but the few times we hung out was nice. They stopped showing up to class shortly after the trip, but the other kids would joke that they had a crush on me.”

“Imagine that.” Atlas leans against the bus window, watching the buildings go by; fingers snaking up to the skin beneath his eye. “I still loved that place, even after what happened.” 

Before you can say more, the bus hits a speed bump which sends you flying backwards into the seat. Recovering from the whiplash, you glance out the window to see where you are. The bus pulls into the parking lot of where you'll be staying. It’s astonishing how you've never seen or heard much about its rebuilding before now. An excuse for the first part could be the large circus tent blocking the park's back wall.

The hotel itself was like a crossbreed between a lodge cabin and the fairgrounds. The main building sat in the middle of two towers; roof slanted like the pitch of a carnival tent and walls made of stone and wood. The pillars in its foundation were painted red for a little more color and the park's name along with its main mascot sat on a sign near the entrance; a plethora of lights surrounding the entire building shut off due to the time of day.

“Ruthie's Paradise Lodge…” You read aloud; the hare nestled in the title's ‘P' and drifting off to sleep. You gather your carry-on bag and join the others as they exit the bus. Atlas insists on taking the remaining lounge for you and wheels your bags along with his one duffle bag up to the front doors. A rustle in the bushes along the path catches your attention as you follow behind, but no one else seems to notice. You peak into the thickets – two, long pink ears greeting you among beady black eyes.

You scream.

Heads spin at the sound. Atlas retains a look of defense while Ell barks out a laugh and Cass removes their hand from the pocket at the sight they all behold. For the second time that day, fuzz laced arms trap you to the chest of a foreign body; this one covered head to toe in plush and oversized hands doing a better job at keeping you in place. Within enough struggle the mascot lets you go, covering his face with his hands out of embarrassment. The last member of your group and the first person on the bus walks up behind Ruthie and pats the hare's back.

“Sorry for the fright. Ruthie here is just excited to meet friends.” 

Atlas pulls you away from the pair and creates a protective shield using his own body. “And you are?”

The man laughs. “Me? I’m the receptionist at this fine establishment and the staff member assigned to welcoming you all to the hotel. You can just call me Flo. I probably should've introduced myself earlier, but it seemed like you all were having a great time with each other which is what we love to see most at our parks. Shall we head in?” 

Flo enters the hotel without waiting for an answer, leaving all you with no choice but to follow. Ruthie tails behind you step for step; eyes drilling holes in the back of your head. You can see his reflection in the glass doors right before you step inside. This Ruthie is nowhere near as stretched out as the one you met before, but his stare carries that same uncomfortable weight as the first. He gently pushes past you and marches in front of the other's to stand beside Flo.

The lobby isn’t anything remarkable. A fireplace in the waiting area accompanied by couches and chairs; framed snippets of the hare's crew on the walls. Twin staircases lead to a second floor and . It’s so open spaced you can’t help but wonder-

“Are we the only ones here?”

“Course not! We have the rest of staff and if you're referring to the other contestants I’m sure they'll be here on a later shuttle. If that clears up your questions then-"

The echo of Flo's clap makes you flinch. 

“Let's get this show on the road. As I’m sure you're already aware of, you lovely folks are the first to witness the grand reopening of our gorgeous hotel after its tragic closing back in 95’. The rooms have been renovated to fit with modern times and there are various activities around the building to keep you all entertained when you aren't enjoying a fun day at our fair park. The only thing we ask is that you avoid staff only areas, even if a few of you are employed elsewhere on the plot. 

Ruthie holds up a flashcard with a rabbit silhouette marked with a red X; tapping the board while slowly shaking his head. Flo walks behind the counter and produces four separate room keys.

“I will now give you all your assigned room keys and instructions on how to reach them. Your luggage will be brought to your rooms by staff later on.”

Flo hands out the keys in order of how you entered from Cass to Ell to Atlas to You. 81. 82. 83. 111. Ruthie holds out his hand for a key and crosses his arms over his chest when he doesn't receive what he’s after.  It would've been a little funny had Ell not addressed the elephant in the room.

“Why's Y/n's room so far away from ours?”

Flo half shrugs, almost annoyed by the question. “I’m not sure. Possibly a mix up somewhere with booking and reservations and whatnot. To get to your room you three just have to walk up to the third floor. Your room is in the south tower on the fifth floor. Bit of a strange numbering system, I know, but we’ve kept the layout of the hotel as close to original design as possible. We hope you enjoy your stay.”

Taking that as ignitive to leave, you walk over to the elevator with the others. You’d ask about Wyatt another time. Ruthie sends you all off with a double handed wave. It drops to one when it’s your turn to receive a fair well. Ruthie brings a finger up to his eye socket and drags it down to his cheek.

“Well…” Atlas starts. “We're still in the same location, and we'll most likely be seeing a lot of each other regardless of the situation.”

“Do you mind us paying you a visit?” Cass questions. “You’re the only reason I'm actually here…”

Ell chimes in. “Yeah, kinda lame deal if I can't try to bust down your door at any given moment.”

“I don't mind. Just give me a bit to get settled in first. I'll see you later.” You push the button on the elevator wall and wait for it to open. As you enter Atlas steps forward. 

“Maybe I should head up with you, just to be safe…”

Ell tugs the taller figure into a headlock and pulls him back. “Not so fast, Romeo. We spend time with them together or not at all. I won't give you the chance to shoot your shot with them so soon.”

Atlas flushes, barking out. “It's not like that!” 

“Don't lie to me. I've seen your wallpaper before. I've snuck a few pictures in my time, and I have no doubts that our other friend over there has as well.”

Cass is already halfway up the stairs before Ell gets her point across, frantically scrolling through their phone. Both Atlas and Ell chase after them.

“See you later, guys.” You press the button to your floor, a last minute rider keeping the doors from closing.

Ruthie steps inside the elevator and into the opposite corner where another button panel was placed. He closes the doors, before pressing every single button prior to your floor while making direct eye contact with you. 

The elevator goes up. The doors open and shut for the second floor. The fluff of the costume's chest rises with a breath. Another floor. His fingers twitch and his left leg shifts towards you. He starts to hum, tapping his foot against the metal floor. Two floors left and that soft drill draws out into a whistle. The cold wall envelopes you as you shrink in their corner. Ruthie teeters in your direction and then.. gets off on the fifth floor. 

The hare ducks beneath the elevator and crawls out into the hall, thunderous footsteps sounding throughout his entire descent. Reaching the end of the walkway, Ruthie turns and tilts his head as the doors slowly close. 

You shuffle out the elevator as soon as the doors open again, gunning for the room at the end of the hall with your assigned number. You jam your key into the lock and tumble inside the room. A balloon floats by your head as you lean against the door. You follow the floating orb trajectory to the bedside where a large gift basket sat on the pillows. Curious, you the item, pushing another stray balloon out of your way.

The basket is full of various treats from around the park as well as non-food items such as tee shirts and plush figures. The two in question are Ruthie and the newer addition to the crew, Bash the wolf. The hare carries his signature bottle of root beer and the canine holds a small mallet. Despite his weapon of choice and his scowl, Bash was a kind and timid creature afraid of his own shadow. The lesson his debut was founded on was about not being scared of those who don't seem approachable on first glance. The cellophane wrapping around the case was too thick to tear through, but a notecard hides between the plastic and the bottom of the basket.

“Welcome Home.”

 A heavy fist rattles the door in its frame. 

“Y/n? Are you in there? Atlas got us lost and we've been looking for you for like- twenty minutes.”

It's Ell. Probably with the others. You head over and unlock the door. Sure enough, the three park members wait behind it with smaller bags on their person, and Cass carrying a few plastic bags from a general store.

“You came over faster than I expected…” You gloss over their added luggage – and the pillow in Ell's arms.” Wait, are you planning to stay the night?”

“Okay if you’re okay with it.” Atlas quips. “We just thought it'd be a good way to break in the night, and it’s a long way away back so we brought over things just in case.”

“You got more than enough space to house us all.” Ell bounces over to the couch adjacent to the bed and the window, ending her exploration at the foot of your bed. “Your room is way bigger than ours and you have a nice view. You even got a whole basket of goods. Oh shit, are those funnel cakes bites?”

Ell pokes and prods at the bag to no avail. 

“Yeah, I couldn't get it open either. Anyone have any utensils?”

“You can use my knife..” Cass unsheathes a pocket knife from their jeans and hands it to you. There's a crow engraved on its side. You pass it off to Ell who then cuts open the plastic and at least asks before she digs in to her desired treats.

The rest of the night goes about the same as one would expect. You each take up a random corner in the room and discuss whatever topic comes to plate. Cass comes clean with more about themselves and lets it slip that aside from delivering your mail, they piloted various costumes around the park. Apparently they wanted to be a voice actor when they were little and the roles helped with that dream. They played Momo the clown, the last remaining character from the park's time as a circus and Ruthie’s closest friend. The young sibling of the Bandit Twins. And Farmer Crow.

“You're Crow?!”

Cass is quick to defend themselves. “O-only on weekends…”

The festivities end with you watching the fireworks show from the park at the window, and the others drawing straws to see where they’d sleep for the night. Ell gets the couch, Atlas the floor, and Cass at the end of the bed. As you try to fall asleep, your mind wanders towards what Ell said earlier. You did have a great view of the park from where you were. You had visuals on the entire park starting from the tent that blocks everything else out of sight. The park closed hours ago, but the lights inside  it are still on.

“Don't you think it's weird?”

Half asleep you pick up on a hushed conversation at the end of your bed. 

“What?” 

“You stole the candies so you could be alone with them, but there were way more than you had in your bag, and they had to have a backup plan if something serious happened. Isn’t it a little strange we're the only ones here?” 

“A little, now that you mentioned it. The receptionist said more people were coming.”

“I guess… Night, Cass.”

You pull the blankets up to your chin and close your eyes, cradling the stuffed animals as you drift off to sleep.

#Ruthieland #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #yandere insert #yandere x you #male yandere #female yandere #yandere drabble #yandere fic #yandere writing #yandere story

[createserenity]

Master List of My Fics and WIPs

Been meaning to do this for ages, so here we go. All titles link through to the fics on AO3. All The Pieces of You (E, 66k - wip)

This is my main wip. Essentially it's a mad romp through history starting from 33AD and eventually working up to the present day (or at least up to the end of season 1). A mixture of smut, fluff and ridiculous historical adventures.

AO3 Summary:

Aziraphale had known he found Crowley attractive for a long time, but there was nothing wrong with that. The Almighty had done a very nice job when she’d made Crowley and surely appreciating the work of the Almighty was what angels were supposed to do? It was nothing more than that.

Except now Aziraphale knows what lust feels like and that might be a problem.

In The Beginning (E, 8.9k - complete)

In the beginning there was a garden and the Angel of the Eastern Gate and the Serpent of Eden decided that there are better things to do than stand around in the rain getting wet.

Shameless smut, in which Aziraphale and Crowley learn what all the fuss is about sex.

Better Than Today (E, 4k - complete)

Whenever they fucked Crowley said, “I love you.”

It would probably help if they talked about it, but somehow they just keep ending up having sex instead.

Smut with a fluffy ending.

Give In To Desire (E, 4.4k - complete)

Crawley hadn't actually meant for this to happen. He'd thought he'd tempt the angel into eating and the angel would maybe have a few bites and discover that it wasn't so bad after all. He hadn't expected to be setting himself up to be tempted into the sin of lust.

Just another fic speculating on what happened in the basement during the Job minisode, because you can never have too many of those, right?

A Day For Magic (T, 3.4k - complete)

In which there is a bench, a park and a coin, which leads to silliness and fluffiness all round.

Fic inspired by these kisses.

A Time of Wanting (T, <1k - complete)

Crowley wants.

He wants so badly and he's wanted for so long that it's a physical ache in his chest now. Short ficlet that's fluffy and happy, despite how the summary makes it seem. Also inspired by the kiss picture linked above.

Goodnight Angel (E, 14.4k - wip but also works as it is)

Post lockdown-phone-call fic.

Aziraphale had told him not to come over, but he was a demon and obviously he wasn't going to listen. Besides he was going out of his mind with boredom and going to see the angel was a much better idea than a long nap.

WIPs

Apart from my main wip All The Pieces of You I've also got a follow up to In The Beginning in the works and eventually I'll go back to Goodnight Angel as well. Apart from that I'm going to list my wips here and try to keep track of them with tags and get a bit better at posting about them. Some of these will probably never get written, especially since a few days ago there was only 12, then I scrapped one altogether taking it down to 11 and now somehow I'm up to 13. Too many ideas in my head and too many half writtten fics on my computer.

After The Swap

Blind date

Dance for Me

End Times

Entertain Me

Here's to the End Times (yep different to the above fic despite the similar working title)

It's You (This one is a one shot human AU and might be posted soon)

Run Away Together

Lockdown Lifted

So You Can Take It Off (Desperately want to finish this because it's different to anything else I've written)

South Downs

This Land of Ours (fits in the Pieces of You universe)

Waking Up With You (This is another one shot that is almost done)

Job (This is finished and posted as Give In To Desire - linked above - although technically there are more chapters in the works)

#my writing #all the pieces of you #goodnight angel #in the beginning #all the kisses in the world #good omens #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanfic #waking up with you #it's you #wips #give in to desire #fic list

[fizzydrink698]

pink carnations | jungkook

kinktober day 4: flower shop/tattoo parlour au

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

word-count: 3.4K

genre: friends-to-lovers, fluff

warnings: swearing, making out, almost tooth-rottingly sweet, the tamest kinktober fic you’ve ever read probably, my inability to give min yoongi anything but the snarkiest of dialogue as he deserves

summary:

“They’re not,” Jungkook hurried to say, swallowing. There was the faintest hint of pink in his cheeks, almost but not quite unnoticeable. “They’re just…I thought they looked cool. That’s all.”

…Bullshit.

You tried not to let it show on your face, but you absolutely knew Jungkook was lying. Every single tattoo of his was steeped in meaning. He thought over each and every single one - and paid ridiculous amounts of money for each little section, compared to the far cheaper option of just getting the whole arm done in one go.

He wouldn’t spend so much time choosing these flowers just because they looked cool.

It was nearly six o’clock on a Tuesday evening. The parlour had been quiet for most of the day, save for a client here or there that needed a touch-up. You were in the backroom, half-listening to the Van Halen song playing over the speakers, noting down the inks you needed to add to the next stock order.

One client last week had drained almost your entire supply of orange in the pursuit of a tiger back piece, but was it worth restocking so much? Maybe you should consult with Yoongi, he had a knack for–

“Your boyfriend’s here.”

“Jesus,” you yelped, jolting almost out of your skin, fumbling with the stock take sheet. You spun around on your heel to find Yoongi in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe.

“Not quite,” he remarked, deadpan as always.

“You almost gave me a heart attack,” you complained, pressing a hand over your chest. “How are you so quiet?”

“You’re just unobservant,” Yoongi noted. “Case in point. Boyfriend. Here. Five minutes before closing.”

You frowned and, for what must have been at least the seventh time you’d had this exact conversation with Yoongi, you reminded him, “Kookie’s just a friend.”

A good friend. A good, attractive friend. And that was all. That was fine.

Like, OK, had you maybe imagined what it would be like to date Jungkook? Sure. Had you sometimes pictured him standing in your kitchen, making you breakfast, pressing a kiss to your cheek in the soft morning light? Perhaps. Had you eyed the way he fidgeted with his hands when he was nervous, watched the way his fingers traced the edges of his nails, and pictured what else those hands could maybe do?

…No comment.

“Mm-hm,” Yoongi replied, snapping you back to reality. “What’s he doing here so close to closing time?”

“Uh, I’m not sure…” you trailed off, trying your best to recall if you’d made any plans. It couldn’t be a work-related thing, but you knew never to schedule appointments this late. “I didn’t book anything with him–”

“If you did schedule anything five minutes before closing, I think I’d lock you out of the booking system forever.”

“–so I’m not sure, maybe…oh! Oh, right,” you said, laughing to yourself. “I totally forgot I said I’d meet him after my shift. He’s here early.”

Yoongi stared at you for a second, blinking slowly. “Uh-huh. Totally.”

You pouted, putting your hand on your hip. “I thought we had a deal. You don’t make fun of the way I talk, I don’t make fun of the way you dress.”

“How I…” Yoongi repeated, incredulous for a second as he looked down at himself. “…What is there to even make fun of? I’m literally just wearing a t-shirt and jeans.”

“Are you sure you want to ask me that question?”

He hesitated, just for a moment, before shaking his head. “What am I even…just head home, I’ll handle the stock.”

“You’re the best,” you declared, beaming, and handed over the stocktake sheet. He took it with a roll of his eyes, but no further complaints.

Coming out of the backroom, you headed straight onto the shop floor. The parlour hadn’t changed in all the years you’d been working here, and you found a strange comfort in it. The red-brick walls, the framed photographs of the parlour’s best work, the black leather seating, the…just the ambience, really.

Standing in the centre of it all, looking deep in thought as he studied a framed picture of a shoulder piece you’d worked on last year, was Jungkook.

It was strange how well he fit here. You could imagine him at a tattoo station, talking with clients, going over design choices. He was tall and broad, and the delicate features he had were offset by the gleam of silver studs in his eyebrow, and the thin ring on his bottom lip. In the last year, he’d grown out his black hair, and now kept it in a loose bun whenever he needed it out of his face.

In short, from a visual perspective at least, he was perfectly suited to work here.

Of course, Jungkook did not, in fact, work here.

He worked just across the street, at the most adorable little florist’s shop that you’d ever seen in your whole life.

“Hi,” you greeted brightly, wandering over to him. “You’re early.”

He turned, a soft smile pulling at the corner of his lips at the sight of you. “Yeah, is that…is that OK? We had to close up a little earlier than usual today, and I felt a little weird standing around outside.”

“No worries, I’m basically done here,” you said. “Let me just grab my stuff and we can go.”

He nodded, and waited patiently for you to gather your things. Jungkook was a quiet soul, someone that complimented your own more…vivacious personality. You’d met him just a few weeks after starting here, when he came in to get some more work done on his developing sleeve, and the two of you had formed an unlikely, but very close, friendship.

“I finally decided on the flowers,” Jungkook told you when you returned, “for that next part of my sleeve.”

You beamed, excited, eager to know more. Jungkook’s sleeve tattoo was so interesting, at least in your eyes – it was like a timeline of his life, little elements added to represent different phases of his life, different memories, different people. Starting from the left wrist, it had grown up to around his bicep, and he’d talked about how eager he was to see the tattoo extend as his life went on, having it wind along his shoulders and chest and back onto the next arm.

Very cool, and a lifelong project, basically.

And Jungkook had asked you to help add to it a few weeks ago.

“Tell me, tell me,” you pestered, delighted. “I can start looking at reference photos, maybe hopefully not leave you with some weird misshapen blob.”

Jungkook laughed a little, falling into step beside you. “I settled on five. Ivy, lilac, blue salvia, bluebell, pink carnation.”

“Pink carnation?” You repeated, surprised. “Huh. Maybe that could work. I’d have to play around with the colour a little, just to make sure it doesn’t clash too much with the blue and green. Are you sure it has to be pink?”

“Yes,” Jungkook replied without hesitation. “Yes, it does.”

“I couldn’t sway you on, like, a white carnation maybe?”

“Has to be pink,” he reiterated, but his smile was just a touch sheepish. “It…uh, yeah. Just…has to be pink.”

“OK,” you nodded, and dropped the subject. You’d spent your entire adult life listening to people as they explained their reasons behind a tattoo, its meaning, its significance. You knew how important tattoos could be to someone, even down to the tiniest of details. “Pink it is.”

It was that night, as you scrolled through Google for reference photos, a little cup of peppermint tea in your hands, that you realised why Jungkook had been so insistent on pink carnations.

You sat there, staring at the screen, eyes darting around the page as it detailed flower language, and you felt as if you had stumbled across something private, something you weren’t meant to see.

“So, I have a question.”

Jungkook was finally in your chair, his eyes closed and his breathing very slow and very measured. You were approximately halfway through the session, letting Jungkook take a little break to settle down and readjust while you changed needles. He’d been impressively stoic this whole time, perfectly still and unflinching as you did the linework of the tattoo.

Jungkook cracked open one eye, curious. “Yeah?”

“I’m guessing the flowers represent the shop, right?” You asked.

Jungkook closed his eyes again, not replying immediately. His hand - the left one, the one not connecting to the arm you were currently working on - began to fidget, the edge of his thumbnail picking at his cuticles. “…Yeah, they do. I thought it would be, like, a cool time capsule thing of where my life is right now. Flowers for my store, done at the studio across the street, by one of my favourite people.”

You turned your head to look at him, blindsided by this sudden compliment. Not that Jungkook wasn’t usually nice, but this was…

You were more than flattered by his words, you were touched.

“…Thank you,” you said, quietly, checking the gun one last time before taking your seat again next to him. You cleared your throat, trying to scramble back to your normal carefree persona, before things got too mushy and heavy. “I don’t know, I was thinking they were for a girlfriend or something.”

At this, Jungkook’s eyes shot open. He stared at you, wide-eyed. “Girlfriend? What?”

So, not a girlfriend, then.

“When I was Googling the flowers for reference pictures, I found a website talking about flower language and all their different meanings,” you said with a shrug. “I’ve gotten a few customers who come in for flowers with special meanings.  One guy wanted an orange lilies for his ex-wife. Not exactly sure why, it was probably a catharsis thing. But, uh…yeah. Some of these seemed kind of…romantic-y.”

“They’re not,” Jungkook hurried to say, swallowing. There was the faintest hint of pink in his cheeks, almost but not quite unnoticeable. “They’re just…I thought they looked cool. That’s all.”

…Bullshit.

You tried not to let it show on your face, but you absolutely knew Jungkook was lying. Every single tattoo of his was steeped in meaning. He thought over each and every single one - and paid ridiculous amounts of money for each little section, compared to the far cheaper option of just getting the whole arm done in one go.

He wouldn’t spend so much time choosing these flowers just because they looked cool.

“Fair enough,” you said, but inside, your mind was working overtime.

It’s definitely a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend. Some kind of romantic significant other.

It was the pink carnation that had tipped you off, his insistence that it had to be pink. You couldn’t help but search it up when you stumbled across that flower language website.

Carnation, pink: I’ll never forget you.

Coupled with the blue salvia (I think of you) and you were 99% certain that this was about someone. The rest were a little less clear - ivy was affection, which you could nudge over to the side of ‘this is about someone specific’, but lilac and bluebell were a little vaguer in concept. ‘Joy of youth’ and ‘humility’ probably had more to do with Jungkook himself than any mysterious other.

But he’d never talked about anyone with you - and for him to include them on his sleeve, they had to be a big deal, right? Someone important enough to discuss with a friend?

Maybe you were wrong about all this. The pink carnation could be for someone he lost, someone he was mourning for.

…But why deny it? He’d talked to you about losses before - he had a section on his forearm dedicated to a childhood friend who had passed away in high school, and he’d even been the one to initiate the conversation about it.

And he didn’t seem upset when you’d brought up the flower meanings, he’d been embarrassed. He had blushed. This had to be about something romantic, right?

Who could it be?

You racked your brain, trying to think of anyone he spent time with. Someone at work? No, you knew his co-workers, they were decades older than him and happily married. They teased him for bringing in all the youths, and asked him for help with the store computer.

Who else did he even talk to? The baristas at Starbucks? The cashier at the grocery store? He didn’t really doanything outside of work, he just hung out with you, and—

Oh.

Oh.

You stared down at the tattoo gun, at Jungkook’s arm, at the outlines of the flowers that you had done.

They were…

Were they about you?

Your eyes fixed on that carnation, proudly taking centre-stage in the design, soon to be filled with that telltale pink.

I’ll never forget you.

Jungkook liked you.

You were certain of it.

Almost.

You didn’t know what to do. Who did you go to about this? Jungkook was always the one you called in a crisis, and he wasn’t exactly the ideal candidate to discuss this revelation with.

You’d made the questionable decision to mention it to Yoongi - well, by ‘mention’, maybe it was more accurate to say ‘mumbled to him about whether Jungkook could maybe like you while moving inventory around’.

Yoongi’s response, a silent eye-roll and a reminder to restock your dressings at your station, didn’t really help much.

So, now, you found yourself stood outside of Jungkook’s flower shop, trying to work up the courage to execute the half-formed plan in your head.

This was dumb. This was very dumb. You needed to just turn around and walk away and think more about this.

You pushed open the door, gulping as the little bell above it rang.

The shop itself was gorgeous. It was difficult to describe just what about it you liked. Maybe it was the way it was arranged - the shelves of different sizes, scattered around the store, storing flowers of all different types and colours. It reminded you of an old antique store, if every antique was instead a delicate, beautiful bunch of flowers.

Jungkook’s voice came floating from some unseen part of the store, and you heard approaching footsteps. “Hello?”

You readied yourself, taking a deep breath.

“Hey!” You called, moving forward, trying to find him. Soon enough, you rounded a corner and found him between shelves, in his dark green store apron, sleeves rolled up and wearing thick gardening gloves on his hands. His hair was tied back, in what must have been a tight bun this morning, but was now loose from the hassles of the day. One particular lock of hair had escaped, and you briefly pictured tucking it back behind his ear for him.

He smiled, and something fluttered in the pit of your stomach. “Are you here to see me?”

Oh boy, weren’t you just.

“Yeah. Well, technically,” you added, nervously. “I’m…uh, I’m actually here to buy a thing. Flowers. I’m here to buy flowers.”

Smooth. Nailed it.

Jungkook blinked at you, surprised. “…Oh, OK. What did you have in mind?”

You reached into your back pocket, trying your best to stay calm. Unruffled. “Uh, a bouquet. I’ve got a list.”

Still undoubtedly a little confused, Jungkook’s face brightened as you pulled out your list. You supposed that made sense - if Jungkook was half as much a nerd for his profession as you were for yours, the excitement of getting to share it with you was powerful enough to override any potential misgivings.

“Great!” Jungkook said. “What’s on the list?”

You looked down, trying your best to keep cool, and willing the butterflies in your stomach to calm the fuck down.

“Borage,” you read aloud. “White chrysanthemums. Daisies. Calla lilies–”

“Wow, that’s quite a lo–”

“Heliotrope,” you continued, and finally plucked up the courage to look him in the eye. “Red chrysanthemums. And pink carnations.”

Jungkook stilled.

You could feel the silence settle over the two of you, almost tangible as you watched the cogs in his head turn, as you watched realisation flicker in his eyes.

“…Who’s the bouquet for?” Jungkook asked. His voice was low, but his tone spoke volumes.

You swallowed. “…You.”

Another moment of silence – one that seemed to stretch on for an age – and your stomach dropped. Fearing the worst, you quickly shoved the list back into your pocket. “Unless, like, I totally misread the situation and you don’t–”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence, as Jungkook rushed towards you, ducking his head to press his lips to yours.

The kiss was short, gentle – and when you broke apart, Jungkook’s face was beginning to flush.

“You didn’t misread anything,” he admitted. “I…I really like you. A lot.”

Your breath left you in one long, relieved, ecstatic whoosh. “Me too. I like you a lot. Have done for a while, honestly.”

He blinked, and the shy smile he’d been wearing for most of this interaction began to change, twisting into something just a little more smug. “Really? How long?”

“Long enough,” you deflected, embarrassed and increasingly eager to turn the tables back on him. “Now, take off the gloves.”

“What?”

“Take off the gloves,” you repeated, and began to smirk. “Because when I kiss you in the next ten seconds, I expect you to hold me.”

He did.

In fact, the second Jungkook got his hands on you, he seemed to get addicted. They seemed to roam almost everywhere – around your waist, sliding up your back, cupping your cheek, resting on the back of your head.

His grip only tightened when you may or may not have pushed him up against the shelves, your eyes closed, your face buried into the crook of his neck, planting open-mouthed kisses along the soft skin there. The two of you were pressed flush against each other, and every time you shifted your hips just slightly, Jungkook made the tiniest little breathy noise in your ear.

“We…” he murmured, sounding as if he were struggling to do even that. “We probably…shouldn’t, ah…”

“Shouldn’t what?” You asked, pulling away from his neck to grin up at him.

He stared back, eyes dark, that silver lip ring contrasting starkly with the red of his kiss-swollen mouth.

“Shouldn’t what?” You repeated. “What are you thinking about doing with me, hmm?”

You never imagined Jungkook – sweet little flower-shop Kookie – to even be capable of the look he was giving you in that moment, and it sent a delicious shiver down your spine.

“I–”

Whatever he was about to say, it froze on the tip of his tongue as you heard the shop door swing open – complete with the ringing of that little fucking bell. “Hello? Jungkook, dear? I’m back from the suppliers!”

You both tensed, unable to do anything more than stare at each other in shock for a split-second, before springing apart so violently that it made the shelves behind Jungkook wobble. Thankfully, Jungkook managed to reach out and steady it before it could topple over, just as a little old lady rounded the corner and came into view.

“Oh,” she said, gaze flickering between you, Jungkook, and the shelf. “I thought I heard a bit of commotion. Is everything OK?”

“Everything’s fine,” you declared, just a touch too quickly, turning to Jungkook with wide eyes. “I was, uh…I was just placing an order.”

Jungkook met your gaze and nodded fiercely. “Y-yeah. A bouquet.”

“A big one,” you added, turning back towards the old lady. “Lots of…different flowers.”

The old lady took one long, slow look at you, and you were fairly certain you could burst into flames from embarrassment at any given moment.

Jungkook chimed in, straightening his shoulders and smoothing down his apron. “So, with such a big order, I’m going to check all the items you requested were in stock. I can…I’ll get in touch as soon as I do that.”

You glanced back to him, nodding eagerly. “Yes! Please, yeah, get in touch with me soon.”

Jungkook caught your eye, holding your gaze, and gave you the most tentative smile. “I will, I promise.”

From behind you, you heard the faintest scoff of amusement. The old lady ambled by you, without a care in the world, and patted Jungkook on the shoulder as she continued on. Pausing only to throw a pointed glance towards you, she raised an eyebrow at Jungkook. “Why don’t you take a few minutes’ break, dear? You’re so red, you’re outshining our camellias.”

Jungkook only flushed harder, but he took her up on the offer with a quick bow of the head, and walked you back to the door.

“Call me the second your shift ends,” you asked, trying and failing to keep from smiling at him like a dork.

“Absolutely,” Jungkook swore, returning your dorky grin with his own. “And I’ll check on those flowers for you.”

“Oh, you don’t really have t–”

“I know,” Jungkook said, before leaning in and pecking you on the cheek. “See you soon.”

The next morning, you come into work to find Yoongi grumbling about pollen, and a vase of pink carnations sat on the reception desk.

(Note: flower language allows for a lot of open interpretation of the particular meanings of flowers, which meant researching this fic was a fun ride. Here are the meanings I decided to work off of, all taken from my research, in case you were curious:

Pink carnation: I’ll never forget you.

Blue salvia: I think of you

Ivy: affection

Lilac: joy of youth

Bluebell: humility

Borage: bluntness, directness

White chrysanthemums: truth

Daisies: loyal love

Calla lilies: beauty

Heliotrope: devotion

Red chrysanthemums: requited feelings)

#kinktober #bts fanfiction #jeon jungkook fanfiction #jeon jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagines #jeon jungkook scenarios #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts x y/n #bts fluff #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n

[tyungelic]

★ warm blood

★ — pairing. fem!kai x fem!reader

★ — tags. non-idol au, afab!kai, fem reader, smut, established relationship, vampire!kai, blood play, menstruation mention, thigh riding, fingering, messy sex

★ — summary. kai is the girl of your dreams, the only one for you, but lately you can’t help but wonder if she’s hiding something…

★ — word count. 3.4k words

★ — author’s note. hopping on the fem!txt train~ i had so much fun writing this one happy early halloween i hope you enjoy~

“Unnie!” Kai greets from down the block with arms wide open. You give her a big hug and she squeezes you tight. You stay there for a moment, giving her all your warmth. You cup her face with your hands and kiss every individual beauty mark on it.

“Missed my pudding,” you coo and Kai smiles shyly, the tips of her ears turning red. You take her hand in yours and you shudder.

“How on earth are you so cold?”

“You know what they say— cold hands, warm heart.”

“Oh, so what does that mean for me?”

“Hm.. it means whatever you want it to mean,” Kai teases and squeals when you go to pinch her.

“You didn’t bring an overnight bag with you,” you point out.

Kai face falls and she hesitates, “N-No, sorry. Something came up and…”

As she trails off with averted eyes, your heart sinks.

“Why didn’t you say something? I had the whole day planned for us.”

“We can still spend the day together, it’s just that I can’t stay over. Sorry, I really thought I could but something came up last minute.”

You were never the type to hide how you feel. You know your face says it all, and Kai looks to you with sympathetic puppy dog eyes.

“Next time, unnie. I promise,” she says.

You find that hard to believe. She said next time last time too, and the time before that.

This sours the entire day for you and no matter how hard you try to not be stuck inside your head and live in the moment, you just can’t. How long was she going to keep doing this last minute? You want to give her the benefit of the doubt. After all, despite how warm, soft and welcoming Kai is, she’s a very private person, so you don’t expect her to share every minute detail of her life.

But private and closed off are two different things. Was she not being honest with you?

Kai’s chilly hand on your knee brings you right back to the present moment.

“Are you okay?” Kai asks softly.

You hum and take another sip of your coffee, but you know Kai sees how you really feel. How could she not? You’ve been filling the cafe with negative energy for the past half hour. There’s a tense silence between the two of you. Kai looks like she wants to say something, but doesn’t.

You’re starting to wonder if this entire date was a bust. After all this, you just want to go home alone.

You finish your drinks and exit the cafe, you reach for her hand but something about it feels bittersweet.

“Guess I'll start heading back,” you say.

“Wait,” Kai starts. “I need to tell you the real reason why I didn’t bring an overnight bag.”

You’re doubtful, but willing to hear your girlfriend out. You give her a look that says ‘I’m listening’ and she proceeds, clearing her throat.

“I didn’t bring one because I want you to stay over at my place tonight,” she announces.

You pause, “… Really?”

“Yes, really! I’ve always wanted you to come see my apartment, so I wanted to surprise you.”

You narrow your eyes. Did she really have this planned all along? Her and her friends did have a penchant for tricking you for a quick laugh. Maybe this is just one of those times.

You have to give her credit for being such a good actress.

“You have pads at your place, right?” you ask.

“Yep, I’m always prepared.”

The nerves start to hit as you approach the apartment building where Kai lives. This is your first time seeing her apartment. What does it look like? What does it smell like? You don’t know much about Kai’s place at all, other than the fact that she splits the rent with her older sister.

“Lea’s out of town, by the way,” Kai clarifies, and you give her a look.

“Oh? You trying to get up to something tonight?” you ask with a wink. Kai laughs, you initially said it as a joke but that nervous smile is all you need to see to know that you’re both thinking the same thing.

You’ve been wanting to get Kai alone and on a bed since the moment you started dating. You were instantly attracted the moment you laid eyes on her— tall with long legs, beautiful slender hands, and the cutest nose you’ve ever seen on a person. She was like a model, no, a Greek goddess. And yet despite her being a goddess among mere mortals, she’s so warm, kind, and humble.

You really feel so lucky to be with her.

You’re welcomed by a nicely decorated two bedroom apartment filled with warm orange light from the setting sun.

You ask where the bathroom is and run to it to so you can freshen up and change your pad. You spray on a new layer of cologne, fix up your hair, and undo the top two buttons of your button-down to reveal more of your décolletage. You might be on your period, but you still want some action. You’ve been waiting for the moment for months now.

You emerge from the bathroom feeling like a new woman and Kai takes notice.

“You look fantastic,” she says and presses a quick kiss to your neck. “I’m gonna take a shower. You can wait for me in my bedroom.”

She disappears into the bathroom and you make your way down the hall to bedroom. It’s just as cutesy as you expected it to be. Her bed is riddled with stuffed animals, how she manages to sleep on it, you can’t quite figure out. She has an electronic keyboard and a drum kit too, as expected of someone who loves music as much as she does.

You fall onto her bed, making sure not to crush any of her plushies with your body. You stare at the ceiling, wondering when you’d be looking up at Kai from this exact angle. It could be any minute now…

Time ticks on and on… and before you know it, it’s been thirty minutes since Kai first went to the bathroom. You don’t want to rush her, you know you take your sweet time in the shower too, but you could’ve sworn you heard the water turn off ten minutes ago. You figure she’s just shaving… or, maybe she’s in need of some company.

You smirk and undo one more button on your blouse before opening the bathroom door.

“Kai, I—”

You freeze in the door, shocked at the sight of Kai sitting on the toilet lid with her nose buried in your used pad.

“What the fuck.”

Kai quickly tosses your used menstrual pad into the trash bin, looking at you with wide eyes.

“Unnie, I-I’m sorry this isn’t what it- You weren’t supposed to find out like this.”

You stand in the door, frozen in shocked silence.

“I think we should break up,” she blurts out.

You hear your heart pounding in your ears. A mixture of rage and confusion fill your body.

“What?” you ask in quiet anger. “I just caught you smelling my used pad and you’re the one who wants to break up?”

“Unnie, please listen to me. This has gone too far. I’m sorry, but I can’t be around you anymore. I can’t explain, but trust me it’s for your own good.”

You’re taken aback by how desperate she sounds.

“Did you bring me here to break up with me?”

“No! No, I would never do that to you.”

“Then what? What’s going on? What are you hiding from me?”

Kai freezes, “I-I can’t tell you, it’s—”

“—Kai, just stop. No more excuses. Whatever you’re hiding from me, you need to tell me right now.”

Kai falls silent and fiddles with her hands, looking down at the tiled bathroom floor.

“I can’t promise that I won’t judge you,” you continue. “But all I want is for you to be honest with me.”

“You’re right,” Kai relents with a sigh. “Unnie, I’m… I’m a vampire.”

You stand there in stunned silence.

“… You’re what? Is this a joke?”

“No, no it’s not a joke, I promise. Just… look,” Kai approaches you and opens her mouth wide to reveal her fangs, sharp as daggers. You can’t believe what you’re seeing. You reach forward to touch her teeth for yourself, your fingers brushing against the softness of her lips. You survey her teeth with laser focus. Kai whimpers as your thumb brushes against one of her sharp teeth.

“Are you liking this?” Kai asks.

“I think so,” you say, mesmerized by the sight before you. "Are you?"

Kai nods slowly, as if in a trance.

It all adds up when you think about it. Kai never had a huge interest in food, certainly didn’t like garlic, plus her skin is always cold… Now that you think about it, you’ve never seen her look in a mirror either.

This is exactly like one of your high school fantasies come to life. You’ve had many a naughty dream about a sexy vampire girl whisking you away and taking you for herself. You had no idea something like this could actually be real.

And to be honest, it’s really turning you on.

“Unnie,” she says softly, eyes half lidded and dark as she stares at you like a prey animal. “This is dangerous…”

Your heart races at her saying that. You don’t want her to resist, to deny herself of you— you want to see what she can do with these teeth of hers.

“How?” you ask softly and you can tell she wants to do something. Something has shifted in the air, but Kai grabs your hands and puts a stop to it before it can continue.

“I’m sorry, I can’t…” she says.

“Why not?”

“I… I don’t want to hurt you,” Kai says, sounding guilty. “I get so hungry for you, unnie. Sometimes I just want to…”

“Bite me?”

“Not just that,” Kai says shyly. “I don’t just want to bite you. I want to drink every last drop of you and suck you until there’s nothing left, but I can’t do that to you. I love you, unnie. I really don’t want to hurt you.”

“What if we’re careful…?” you suggest, and Kai looks at you with wide eyes.

“Careful?” she echoes. “A-Are you sure you can trust me to do that?”

“Sure, you’re always so careful with me,” you cup her face and Kai nuzzles your hand.

“Thank you for trusting me, unnie. I promise I’ll be careful with you.”

Kai leans in to kiss you, soft lips pressed against yours. Your kisses deepen as her hands roam your body and your arms wrap around her neck. She presses you up against the wall and leaves kisses from your ear and down your jaw.

“I can smell your blood running through you,” Kai murmurs against your skin.

“H-How does it smell?” you can barely contain your excitement.

“Smells so good…” she takes a deep inhale and sighs, warm breath hitting your neck. The throbbing between your legs is growing to be unbearable. You squeeze your thighs together, yearning for Kai’s sharp fangs to penetrate you.

“Kai, please bite me,” you whine. “I want you to taste me.”

Kai drags her tongue along the side of your neck, slow and warm and wet, and you moan and shudder under her touch. Within seconds, her fangs pierce your skin and your body jolts. It stings, you feel the pain spread through your veins. A burning sensation that engulfs your body as you break into a sweat, but after the initial shock, the burning settles into an arousing warmth that settles between your thighs.

It feels good, so good. Kai sucks and gulps at you hungrily as her fangs drive deeper, moaning against your skin. Your core continues to throb as she drinks from you, devours you like she’s been starving all this time just to indulge in the pleasure of tasting you.

You moan your girlfriend’s name, slowly rutting against her and she pushes her knee between your legs, bumping it right against your throbbing clit.

The thought of a woman so sweet and so gentle like Kai turning feral just for your blood, for your taste, turns you on like nothing else quite has.

Your vision starts to blur and you begin to feel lightheaded as your girlfriend continues to drink from you. Your orgasm is slowly approaching, you can feel it creeping closer, the coil at the pit of your stomach getting tighter and tighter.

“Kai… Mm, ’m so close…” you moan, words slurred as you slowly begin to fade out of consciousness. The last thing you hear is Kai’s muffled whimpers and moans as she cums, her fangs still deep inside you as she clings to your body as tightly and rides out the waves of her orgasm.

You startle awake and see Kai sitting right by the bed with a large stuffed Molang in her arms.

“Oh thank god, you’re okay,” she says with a sigh of relief.

“What happened?” you mumble as you rub the sleep out of your eyes.

“I may have gone a little too far,” Kai says sheepishly.

“Looks like we’ll need a safe word for next time.”

“Next time?” Kai asks, sounding hopeful. If she had a tail, it would most certainly be wagging right now. “Did you like it?”

“I loved it, pudding.”

Kai’s eyes glitter and she squeezes your hand in hers.

“So, when can we do it again?” you ask and Kai hums.

“I dunno… I’m not really hungry anymore after last night. I’ll have to see how long this keeps me satiated. I’m so full I probably won’t have to feed for another week or so.”

A whole week until your girlfriend sucks your blood again? You aren’t sure if you can wait that long. You’d never experienced anything like that before. You want to do it again and again; you wouldn’t even mind becoming your girlfriend’s personal Capri Sun for the rest of your life.

Then again, she did almost go overboard last night. It’s better to be careful, so maybe touching yourself to the memory will have to do for the time being.

“I’m sorry for lying to you. I didn’t want to freak you out, but the more I was around you, the stronger my cravings became and it all came to a head when I saw your pads. You’re even more delicious than I thought you would be, unnie. Your blood is so filling, I couldn’t stop myself.”

“I wanna keep you full,” you say and Kai jumps into your arms.

“You keep my heart and my tummy full,” she coos in her exaggerated cutesy voice and covers your face in kisses.

Who knew finding out your girlfriend is a vampire would make her even more… endearing?

The next time you’re with Kai is at your place.

You’re sitting on the couch watching TV, waiting for her to finish up her evening shower. After a while, she emerges from the bathroom with only a pair of panties on and settles onto your lap.

“Unnie, I’m hungry,” Kai says, voice soft and needy. “I need to have you...”

Without a word, you take her hand and lead her to your bedroom. She pushes you onto the bed and climbs on top of you.

“Can I bite you somewhere different?”

“Where?” you ask.

“It’s a surprise,” she says, though it becomes less of a surprise when she yanks your sweatpants off and tosses them to the floor. She pulls your panties off too and shoves her face between your thighs, earning a moan from you.

“You smell so good even when you’re not bleeding,” she says with her nose pressed against your pussy. She gives it a kiss and moves onto the place she wants to give more attention. Kai gives your inner thigh a nice, slow lick with the flat of her tongue before biting into your skin.

You’re still not used to the sharp pinch of her fangs breaking your skin and drawing blood. You flinch and Kai quickly withdraws.

“Are you okay?” she asks, studying your face.

“I’m fine, pudding. Just stung a little.”

“Okay, unnie,” Kai presses a kiss to your inner thigh. “Remember, say pickle chips if it’s too much.” You ruffle Kai’s hair and you feel her smile against your skin briefly before sinking her teeth back into you. You throw your head back and moan as she sucks and slurps at the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

She sounds as hungry as ever, whining and moaning against your body. Through half lidded eyes, you can see her touching herself through her panties, and it makes you throb even more. You roll your hips, grinding against nothing as Kai continues to drink from you.

You shut your eyes and reach down to gently rub your clit, surprised when you feel Kai’s cold, lithe fingers on top of yours. Your eyes flutter open and she looks up at you with dark eyes. She doesn’t break eye contact as she continues to drink your blood. Her screwing her eyes shut as she rubs herself is all it takes for you to come undone. You writhe against her, toes curling as Kai continues to devour you through your orgasm, giving you another one in the process.

Once your body goes limp, she retracts her fangs and looks up at you with her doe eyes, a mess of blood around her mouth and coating her lips.

God dammit, she looks adorable.

“C’mere pudding, let me touch you,” you moan and Kai practically jumps at the chance to get on top and straddle you. She greets you with an open mouth kiss, her tongue sliding against yours. For the first time, you taste your own blood on your lips and you don’t exactly get the appeal until you’re tasting it from your lover’s mouth.

“Fuck me, unnie…” Kai says with pleading eyes. “Please, need you to fuck me.” She grabs your hand pulls it toward her wet, aching pussy. You suck in a breath, turned on at just how wet she is. Her dark pubic hair is drenched, sticky and wet from her arousal. You don’t hesitate to give your girl exactly what she wants and shove two fingers into her dripping core.

She whimpers and is quick to do the work herself, hips moving fervently as she grinds herself against your fingers. You watch as she rides, whimpering and mewling as your name leaves her lips in squeaks and moans.

“Feels so good, want you… wan’ you so bad…” she pants, desperate and drunk off of own pleasure. The way she clenches and throbs around your fingers could make you cum by itself. She’s so wet, her juices dripping down your forearm as she continues to fuck herself on your digits.

She finally cums hard, squeezing around your fingers and getting your hand even more wet. She rides out another two orgasms just by using your fingers, you curl them in just the right spot that has her shaking and moaning. She whimpers as your soaked fingers leave her core.

“More… need more…” Kai moans. She sits with your bare thigh between hers and begins rutting against you. She rests her head on your shoulder and bites into your neck, groaning as she sucks your blood. The pain paired with the sensation of her pussy getting your thigh so slick and wet has your mind reeling.

She arches her back and cums all over your thigh. You feel every throb, ever pulse and flutter of her pussy against your skin as she continues to ride out her orgasm. Your body is glistening with sweat and you’re hurting in at least three places you weren’t before this all started, yet you feel like you’re floating on a cloud.

You collapse onto the bed and Kai curls up next to you. You pet her hair and she sighs, happily.

“Got your fix?” you ask.

“Mhm,” Kai nods. “Got my girl dinner and dessert all in one.”

You both giggle and you kiss the tip of her nose.

“You should eat me out on my period,” you say.

“I was gonna before you passed out on me last time!”

“Next time then,” you say.

“Really?”

“Really.”

🩸 taglist: @cherrypeeking @nightlytyuns @huckleberrykai

#hueningkai smut #txt hueningkai smut #kai hard thoughts #txt smut #tyungelic : my fics 🪽

[triplesilverstar]

The morning grind sure can be hard

Rating: Explicit 18+ Minors DNI

Pairing: Vash X Wolfwood, Vash X F!Reader, Wolfwood X F!Reader,  Vash X F!Reader X Wolfwood

CW: Awkward moments, Post sex, making out, Grinding, clothed sex, sexting, harassment, Mentioned fingering

Word count: Roughly 3.4K

A/N: Chapter Seven. With a return to the plot of roommates, where you’re waiting to hear how you made out from your interview and it’s causing a few awkward moments whenever your phone rings. Maybe Wolfwood can distract you one morning while your office is closed.

As the next week progressed you found yourself diving for your phone whenever it rang. The boys had looked at you bewildered at one point when you’d been sandwiched between them for a nap post sex and you hit the floor with a thump in your hurry to grab your phone and check it as it rang. 

“Little bear! Calm down before you hurt yourself!” Nicholas had dropped back down to the bed with a flop while you just felt your skin burn in embarrassment. 

“I just. Want to leave a good impression if it’s the new job.” Almost a whine as it left your throat.

That had been a few days ago. Now you were sitting on the floor in the living room, all your bills spread out on the coffee table as you looked at your budget. At this rate with no longer having a car you were getting a nice little stash built up in your savings account, maybe you’d be able to plan a trip to go visit your dad. 

Updating your notebook just as Nicholas shuffled in wearing just his sweatpants and his cross hanging around his neck. You’d noticed he was wearing it more and more lately, or at least since you had moved in. A quick shake of your head as you take note of how low strung his pants are around his hips. “Coffee should still be hot Nico.” A grunt in response and trailing his hand down over his stomach while trying to wake up, and you chuckle as you round up your bills. “And good morning.” 

Some kind of noise you think might have been a good morning tumbles out of the kitchen with the sounds of a drawer being opened and a spoon swirling inside a mug and the fridge door opening and closing. 

Letting out a low whistle as Nicholas reappears with the mug to his lips steps pausing for a moment before smirking around the edge of the dark blue mug. Sitting on the couch and reaching down to drag you so you’re encased by both of his legs on either side of you feeling the heat from his legs sink into your sides. “Morning.” His voice is hoarse, a sign he’s still half asleep and you let your head lean against his knee. 

“Vash still asleep?” 

“No. He left this morning and had something to do, he said before work.” A long rumble from him and just something about his tone made you relax a little more against him. “You working today?” 

“No. Are you working tonight?” You’d gotten a text this morning while getting ready that there had been a malware attack last night and the network was down so no one was going into the office while they tried to fix it. 

“Um” That has you raising an eyebrow. Out of the three of you Nicholas is the one who doesn’t stumble over his words often or get flustered easily. “I wanted to tell you and Vash together.” Oh that really has your attention, sitting up more and turning, folding your arms and laying your hands over his knee and settling your chin on it while looking up at him. 

Wolfwood for his part seeing you looking up at him still in your pajamas with messy hair and a hint of sleep still in your eyes was doing his best to keep his face from burning up at how cute you looked. He was certain at this point that you had zero idea how adorable you looked when you did things like that, his heart doing that odd little dance in his chest that it did when Vash would take his larger hand in his when they were out on dates. You were without a doubt worming your way into his heart just like Vash had, and he was finding it harder to imagine you not living with him. 

“I applied for an internal job change at work, I’m switching to days instead of nights. So a bit of a pay cut but I wanted to spend more time with you two.” You feel your grin grow, watching his cheeks darken the smallest amount. 

“Oh, Nico. You’re so sweet!” Cooing up at him and feeling him swat the top of your head before ruffling your hair in annoyance.

“Very funny Little bear.” Taking a sip of his coffee as your phone starts to ring and you’re whipping around hard enough that Nicholas could have sworn he heard something in your body snap. 

Lifting it up he can see your eyes widen before looking at him. “Behave.” He could have laughed at just how serious you were being except that might have gone against your request to behave. “Hello? Yes, this is…” Watching you rise and slowly make your way down the hallway Wolfwood kept drinking his coffee. While he had no idea what exactly you did in human resources he knew enough about you to know you were good at it, the snooping he’d done showed a few awards for work ethic. He had no idea how far Vash had melded into your application at Saverem Inc but there was little doubt to him that you’d get the job. 

You had to be closer to your room from the way he could barely make out your voice as you spoke. The sudden silence made him worry, raising an eyebrow as you reappeared with your phone hanging at your side. 

“How’d it g-” 

“I got the job!” Squealing as you launched yourself at him he barely had time to put his coffee down before you were in his lap grinning, hands on the sides of his face before kissing him.

Letting his hands settle on your hips, thumbs slipping under your shirt to rub circles into your skin, Wolfwood moaned. Mouth chasing yours as you pulled away, enjoying the sensation of your fingers sliding through his hair before lacing together and resting on the back of his neck. You looked radiant with that megawatt smile on your face looking down at him, and he felt his heart stutter in his chest hoping you didn’t hear it. He might not have it as bad as Vash did but he was falling for you just as surely as the blond had. 

Coming a little more to his senses a wolfish grin settled on his features. “Well, congratulations then little bear. When do you start?” 

Shifting your hips a little as more of your weight was pressing into him as your nose twitched and you looked skyward. “I need to confirm that with them. First I need to give my notice at my current employer and see if I can just cash out my vacation time or if I have to be there till the end. Once I have that I can call them back with a firm day I can start.” Letting your fingers play with the longer hairs at the back of his neck, while you verbally went over what you needed to do. 

You could get started on your resignation letter this morning since you had no idea if you could still be called into work or not if they got the system up and running. While you were thinking you missed the flicker of mischief in Nicholas’s eyes, but felt his rough palms grip you a little tighter and pull you down on him more grinding up into you. 

“How about we celebrate a little then this morning?” Feeling his cock twitch under your core, feeling yourself flush at the thought. 

“What did you have in mind?” Licking your lips as your nerves overtook you a little, the most you’ve still done with the boys is make out when the three of you aren’t together. Part of you still sees it as some unwritten rule. Very much a self-imposed rule you put on yourself while trying to figure out what you want with them, feeling like until you give them an answer you shouldn’t be doing anything with either of them of a sexual nature without the other around. 

He didn’t miss the apprehension on your face “hey hey, nothing too crazy Little bear. Just a bit of grinding and making out. I’m sort of getting off to the idea of you making me cream my pants just from grinding on me.” His thumbs rubbing light circles into your hips as he speaks, trying to take any of the perceived pressure away from his comment. “No pressure, you know you can walk away from the offer if you want.” 

“I know Nico. I know.” Biting your lower lip now as your fingers began to play with his dark locks once more, unaware the way your teeth were settled into your lip was making Nicholas even harder under you. “I just. Hate feeling like I'm taking advantage of you and Vash since I haven't given you guys an answer.” Admitting it makes you flush, because at the back of your mind it makes you feel like you're making them cheat on one another if it's just you there. 

“Don't.” Sliding one of his hands along your jaw so his fingers can glide to the side of your neck and cup your cheek, making sure your eyes are firmly locked on his. “Vash and I aren't trying to pressure you into giving us an answer, maybe we need to have another talk about the three of us and what we all do together if you're feeling apprehensive like this.”

At the intensity of his eyes you swallow, feeling far more than nervous at those dark orbs that seem to pierce into your soul. When Nicholas looks at you like that your core throbs almost painfully, and now the idea of a little relief is slowly taking up more space in your mind. You've grinded on both men before but always as a precursor to something further. “Ok Nico. I think I'd like that.” Tilting your head and keeping his hand close to your skin so you can kiss the inside of his palm. “Could we maybe try and if my nerves get the better of me we stop?” Almost shy as you whisper the question. 

“Of course Little bear, I hope by now you know we can always stop.” While his eyes are still just as intense you can see the softening at the edge of them as he dons that wolfish smile you've come to love. 

Leaning down to close the distance and lock your lips together as you give your hips a roll, almost moaning against him as his clothed bulge seems to rub all the right places. As the two of you refrain from deepening the kiss too quickly, sitting with light pressure and shifting, Nicholas trails his hand down your neck and side squeezing some of your flesh as he goes before resting on your hip once more. Using them like a handle to better position you so the friction from you moving feels more intense, and now as you grind it feels more like his dick is framed by the folds of your pussy. 

Letting out a low groan as his own hips jerk upwards and your eyes flutter under your lids as more fluid starts to pool from your core down onto the fabric of your underwear. A tingling along your spine at the slow pace and through the fabric you can feel the heat radiating from Nicholas’s cock. Letting out a soft whimper at one long slow roll of his hips that has you sliding along what feels like the length of his clothed dick. 

Breathing hard as you keep grinding against him, the throbbing in your core almost unbearable, wishing it was filled. The noises coming Nicholas aren’t helping your growing arousal simmering inside of you. Low grunts as his rough lips pepper the skin near your mouth, his wide tongue engaging yours in sloppy open mouth kisses in between the push and pull of your hips. 

As the warmth in your core spreads you pause at one roll and shudder, you can feel his cock twitching violently in his pants between the folds of your pussy. Pulling away from him a little and opening your eyes more, taking in his disheveled expression and the jagged edge of his pupils. Licking his lips sensually, well aware you’re watching him. “Don’t hold back little bear, I’m almost there.” That deep rumble from his voice has you blinking like mad, the idea he’s this bother because of just you makes your head spin. 

Untangling your fingers from his hair to plant them on his shoulders to keep yourself stable and let you put more force into your grinding, rolling your hips as strongly as you could now. Focusing on Nicholas’s face intent on making him cum through his pants, seeing his adam’s apple bobbing like mad as he swallowed and his nostrils flared. “Al-most” his voice like gravel and you have a front row view as his eyes roll back in his head in time to a sharp jerk of his lower half. The morphing of his face intoxicating as he slumps back into the couch cushions the tightness around his eyes fading and his jaw slackening. A view you usually don’t get to see since Nicholas tends to be behind you or beside you and it’s gorgeous to see all that carefully maintained control fade as he comes. 

“There” you whisper, closing the distance to kiss his forehead, hearing him let out a low hum. 

Cracking an eye open with a lazy grin and gently massaging your upper thigh, swallowing before parting his lips. “Damn that felt good, want me to return the favor?” Sounding lazy as he keeps rubbing your upper thigh and your core clenches at the thought. 

Only for your phone to ring before you could answer, your shoulders dropping as you lean back to grab it from the coffee table and seeing the number for your office flash up. Answering it “Hello?” Hoping your office doesn’t sound like you just grinded on your roommate until he came and you were horny as hell. 

Nodding as you’re told the office is back up and running. “Yea I can be there after lunch, I’ll see you then Michelle.” Clicking your phone closed and leaning backwards knowing Nicholas will catch you and closing your eyes in frustration. “Looks like I am working today. How about a rain check on that favor?” You need the time to shower and get the bus, and it’s going to be a cold shower to get rid of the haze in your system.

A low chuckle from Nicholas has you cracking an eye at him seeing that tell tale wolfish grin in place. “How about I help you out in the shower?” It tempting but you know you won’t make it in time to catch your bus if you accept. “Afterwards how about I give you a ride to work once we’re done, because I wanna watch you slump on my fingers deep in your core. Right. Now.” Having pulled you closer to him and practically growling the last few words right in your ear.  

The spasming in your core makes the decision easy. “Let’s go.” 

Almost an hour later the two of you are sitting on Wolfwood’s motorcycle outside of your office and Wolfwood has to admit, you look damn good in one of his jackets as you dismount. Sure the padding made him look bigger, the protective plates inside the fabric if he ended up in an accident adding a lot more to his bulk. Yet on you it looked like a kid wearing their parents clothes for how much it dwarfed your smaller frame. 

Glad he only flicked the visor of his helmet up instead of removing it, otherwise you’d see the darkening of his cheeks as you peeled it off revealing your business casual clothes. Swallowing as your hair seemed to fall in soft waves as you pulled his spare helmet off your head, Wolfwood knew he had fallen and fallen hard. Just like he did after that first night in bed with Vash, certain he’d have hearts in his eyes if you stayed there longer. “Thanks for the ride Nico.” A shy smile on your face as he took the helmet and jacket back and packed them inside one of his saddle bags. 

“No problem Little Bear, have a good day at work.” A two fingered salute that he could see made the blood rush up your cheeks. “See you at home later.” A short wave from you before turning and heading towards your office. Wolfwood might have hated to see you leave but he loved watching you go and enjoyed the way your ass moved as your legs shifted. 

Only to watch your paces speed up the closer you got to the door, and he felt his blood boil at what he heard from a group of men about 15 meters from the door. 

A short sharp whistle from a man with a long white stick hanging from his lips. Followed by another man yelling at you. “Hey good looking, is that the latest man’s dick you jumped on? If you want a real ride you can bump uglies with me.” 

“I can show you a real good time whore.” Another called, with someone laughing while slapping the first man’s shoulder and all of them laughing. 

“And you don’t have to pretend you moved in with me for me to plow you either slut.” Wolfwood felt the bones in his fingers creak as he made a fist, discreetly pulling his phone out and snapping a picture of the group. It wouldn’t do to go punching the group of them, no doubt friends of your ex. He might not know much about office drama but he knew even casual water cooler gossip wouldn’t escalate to that. 

Switching to text and tapping the top conversation and adding the recently taken image. ‘Lackies of the asshole. LB is getting harassed going to work.’ 

It doesn’t take long for his phone to bing with a response. ‘Should we start driving her to and from work? I don’t like the idea of her putting up with that. It might not take long to escalate into something dangerous.’ Wolfwood can just picture Vash sitting staring at his phone with a little furrow to his brow. 

He’d find it cute if he wasn’t annoyed with his boyfriend at the moment, even if he had the right idea for taking you to and from work for however much longer you’d be working there. ‘She might not like that, oh and she got the new job. Mr I didn’t do anything but you and I both know you did save them.’ 

‘*Saverem.’ 

‘Ducking autocorrect’ Biting the inside of his cheek in annoyance of his phone still not understanding his boyfriend's last name and the final autocorrect message. 

‘Your phone should know fuck by now Nico.’ Rolling his eyes as the dots flash at the bottom of his screen as Vash types away. ‘Well at least we don’t have to deal with those assholes for long. We can swing the excuse of wanting to spend more time with her while she thinks about dating us for the pickups and drops off.’ 

Rolling his eyes because thinking about the response Wolfwood realizes it could be an option that you’d agree too. The pretense of spending more time together while you think about it and if this afternoon in the shower was anything to go by he had a good idea what way you were leaning. ‘She might buy it. Speaking off, are you gonna tell her now? This might blow up in your handsome face.’ 

Smirking as he threw in the quick attempt to flirt and could envision a pink Vash with a hand over his mouth. ‘Well this handsome face would like to be covered in some white sauce later.’ Followed by a winking emoji. 

‘You can’t avoid it forever. And I’d rather you choked on something instead, but I’m sure we can come to an agreement.’ Tucking his phone back into the inner pocket he keeps it in, wanting to get home before his pants grow even tighter with how Vash tried to redirect the conversation. Wondering if he could get you and Vash to suck him off together again tonight, weaving through traffic while sporting a chub. 

Chapter Six: Chapter Eight

Master list

#trigun #vash the stampede #trigun smut #vash x reader #nicholas d. wolfwood #twink writes #vashwood #wolfwood x reader #nicholas d. wolfwood x reader #vash the stampede x reader #Vash the Stampede Smut #Nicholas D. Wolfwood Smut #Vashwood Smut

[pizzaqueen]

Table for Two

Valentine’s Day fluff / established relationship / rated T / 3.4k

And maybe Eddie still thinks Valentine’s Day, specifically, is kind of bullshit, but looking at Steve standing in front of him, so fucking handsome and making Eddie’s pulse skip just by being there, he gets why so many people fall for it.

Eddie doesn’t think when Steve mentions Valentine’s Day, just goes into his usual spiel, not realizing he might be trampling all over Steve’s hopes and plans until it’s too late. And that’s how he ends up determined to give Steve the best Valentine’s Day ever.

“It’s Valentine’s Day on Sunday,” Steve says.

He’s been idly playing with Eddie’s hair for the past half hour and Eddie feels all hazy and floaty, limbs melting into Steve’s bed, head resting in Steve’s lap.

Still, he manages to summon a derisive snort. “Ah, Valentine’s Day. A crock of candy-coated shit.”

“You don’t like Valentine’s Day?”

“Seriously?” Eddie looks up at Steve. “Have you met me?”

“Yeah, okay.” Steve shrugs. “But it’s, I don’t know, it’s pretty fun.”

“It’s a scam invented by greeting card companies to celebrate corporate greed and make people feel bad that they’re single.”

“How does that make them money?”

“Well, I don’t know”—Eddie waves a hand—“but they find a way. They make people who aren’t single feel bad, too, so they’ll spend money.”

“Uh-huh.” There’s a beat and then: “So… I guess you don’t want to do anything for it, huh?”

Eddie snorts again. “Oh, sure. Candlelit dinner for two at Hawkins’ finest establishment. That’d go down well.” It’s not like Eddie wouldn’t like to go on a date with Steve, on another day, out in public, and he hates that they can’t, but… He doesn’t realize that Steve has gone tense, hand stilled in Eddie’s hair, until it’s too late.

“Right. You’re right. It’s dumb.”

“Uh…”

“I mean, like you said, it’s not like—”

Eddie pushes himself up, twisting around so he’s facing Steve. “Not like what?”

“Nothing, you’re right. Corporate greed, and all that junk.” Steve waves his hand, but his shoulders are hunched, jaw squared. And he’s not looking at Eddie. Eddie scrambles for something to say because, honestly, he just didn’t think when he started spouting his usual spiel, but then Steve says, “And, yeah, it’s not like we can go on a real date. Not out anywhere, anyway.”

The bottom falls out of Eddie’s stomach. “I didn’t think you—” Didn’t think what? That Steve, hopeless romantic Steve, would want to celebrate Valentine’s Day?

Steve pushes himself up. “Hey, you want another beer or a pop or something?”

“Steve.”

“I’m pretty thirsty, so I’m going to grab another beer.” Steve still isn’t looking at Eddie, and Eddie doesn’t know what to do.

So, he watches Steve walk out the door, frozen on Steve’s bed, nursing the sinking feeling he’s fucked up. Spectacularly. He scrubs a hand over his face, wishing, for once, he didn’t have to express every single opinion so fucking forcefully.

He flops back on Steve’s bed and groans. “Jesus Christ, Munson.”

Read the rest on AO3

#steddie #Steve x eddie #Steddie fic #Steddie fanfic #idk why but I’m super nervous about this one?? like more than usual 😅 #i think I might have gone overboard with some of it but it’s out there now!! #and happy early Valentine’s Day I guess!! #pizzaqueenfic

[lustbile]

i wanna say thank you to the anon that asked you to do the hyuck x older reader bc it is very hard to find (the one that can satisfy me enough) but hyuck has been saying (teasingly maybe) how he doesnt mind dating someone older than him. not that older, just the same age as mark, his best friend. but you dislikes it whenever he just talk to you casually and brush him off when he flirts with you, and once you said you dont mess up with someone younger. he feel challenge to change your view on him + fingering to oral + dacryphilia + corruption

I will say, usually I try to write things where the reader’s age is very ambiguous, so I probably wont want to write much else exactly like this in the future. But!!! I really like this concept so maybe just this once (or twice because y’know… the last one)

warning: everything in the ask but also around a 3.4k word count

——

——

“What’s wrong with fucking someone older?” Haechan all but squawks from his seat on the couch across from you. You lift his head from where you lean it on Mark’s shoulder, looking briefly around you to see he had drawn everyone else’s attention, before you look back at him with a soft scowl. 

“No one said anything,” Jeno mumbles confused beside him, his tongue twisting around popcorn as he speaks. 

“I mean,” Haechan starts again, Jeno’s words going completely ignored as his hands flitter in front of him as he drones on, “I’d probably be willing to fuck someone older… the right person at least.”

“No one asked,” Jaemin chimes in from his seat on the floor, turning his head back and letting out a scoff when he sees Haechan shamelessly staring at you. 

You all fall back into your comfortable silence, your head returning with cation to Mark’s shoulder as you try to ignore Haechan’s stare. The borderline unwatchable rom com Mark had begged to watch continues on the tv in front of you, but instead of focusing on the cheesy dialog that’s exchanged between the love interests after their clumsy excuse for a sex scene, you instead wonder what could cause Haechan’s outburst. 

Yes, the love interests had an established age gap from the beginning, some vaguely weird plot about a man reconnecting with his childhood best friend’s older sister once he’s some hot shot being the angle, but ultimately their age difference didn’t hold any significance to the very empty plot. 

So why did Haechan suddenly choose to proclaim his willingness to fuck someone older? It could have something to do with the way he hadn’t stopped staring at your thighs and hips the second you walked in, but that’s something you’d rather just not think about. You do distinctly remember saying more than once to the group of boys around you that you had little to no interest in sleeping with younger men, so surely Haechan wasn’t one to get his hopes up right?

———————————

Your eyes fall half shut as you stumble into the dark kitchen, the light of the oven’s clock being bright enough to force your eyes into focus, and you let out a small groan of annoyance when it reads 2:43 am. 

Choosing to sleep over in an apartment full of boys was a good idea in theory, good until you woke up to Mark’s sharp knee directly in the center of your back. His bones had a lot more angles to then than it appeared, and once you realized how dry your throat was when he knocked you awake, you figured it would be a good time to shuffle to the kitchen.  

You stood slightly on your toes as you walked to the sink, stretching the muscles of your calves and thighs until a shiver rolls up your spine. Once you reach the basin of the sink, your hands land roughly on the edge, as you let your head fall forward for a moment before you stand again to reach up towards the cupboard for a clean glass. 

You get the glass filled with water from the tap without a hitch, and even got a few sips in as you stared blankly at the window set in front of you. It wasn’t until your fourth, and longest sip of water, did you hear the russeling behind you, and you were jumping at the sound of someone clearing their throat. 

Haechan might have said hi, greeted you in his rumbling, half awake voice, but you wouldn’t be able to hear him even if he had. Water slipped quickly down the wrong pipe of your throat, and you were slamming your glass down and letting rattling coughs out into the bend of your elbow as you turned to him with wild eyes. 

Whatever greeting that was said, or going to be said, by him died quickly on his tongue as you coughed almost violently. Your back shakes as you gasp into the fabric of your long sleeved shirt, and you feel so shaken up, you can’t even shrug his hand off of you when he comes to gently smack between your shoulder blades. 

“Was hoping I’d have you choking on something else by the time I got you alone,” he mutters playfully once your breathing evens out again, his eyes widening and his hands flying up in surrender when your eyes cut quickly towards him, the glimmer in them being nothing but murderous intent. 

“I’m not one of your bros, Haechan,” you say in a warning tone, your voice still gruff from your coughing fit in a way that makes Haechan feel a little hot, but he knows if he voiced that thought he’d with no doubt get his eyes clawed out, “don’t speak to me so casually, or anything that vulgar while I’m at it.”

“Hey, look I’m sorry,” he takes one step away, sounding sincere enough for you to believe him for once, “I can acknowledge when I’ve made a bad joke.”

 “If you didn’t speak to me as casually as you do, a joke wouldn’t have been made in the first place,” you argue, reaching for your glass once again to clear the sharp stinging in your throat, speaking between sips, “you forget I’m older than you.”

“Oh come on,” he scoffs, the way his eyes dance across you being dangerous just like his smile, “you say that like you’re decades older than me, we’re not that far in age.”

“Far enough that you should have some respect,” you say, wagging your index finger at him as if it will have any affect on his antics in the slightest, “sometimes you’re a little too immature for your own good.”

“Sounds like you’re afraid you can’t keep up,” he teases with wiggling eyebrows, the way he steps closer to you making your eyes squint in suspicion, “you know, I was talking about you earlier when I said what I said.”

“Really?” You ask sarcastically, leaning back against the sink to create more distance between yourself and his ever approaching body, wisely choosing to ignore his first comment and the way it weighs heavy on your chest, “you’ve really perfected the skill of being swift and discreet Haechan, I would have never guessed.” 

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he huffs in a similar tone as he moves his hands to press into the lip of the counter at your sides, caging you against the sink as you press the cool rim of the glass against your bottom lip to keep it from quivering, “I think I’ve been dropping hints that I want you since the day I met you, sorry if I felt it was time to take the direct approach.”

“Oh trust me your hints were picked up every time,” you assure as your head bobs, an unimpressed sigh coming out when his face lights up slightly, “it’s just never going to happen, Haechan.”

“Why not?” He asks, dejected. His voice pitches up when he speaks this time, his hips shifting forward in a way that he doesn’t even seem aware of, his mind too focused on being rejected. 

“You said I’m afraid I can’t keep up?” You ask rhetorically, placing your glass down next to his hand before you push you index finger into the dip of your chest, “baby boy, I don’t even think you can get started.”

“Is that a challenge?” He asks sharply, his eyebrows furrowing deeply as a scowl pulls over his usually softened features. His shoulders rise slightly as he speaks as well, and you hope the shock and lingering arousal that it puts in your belly doesn’t show on your face. 

“Not a challenge,” you sigh, shifting your line of sight over his shoulder so you’re no longer forced to look at his intense features, “just a fact.”

You catch from your peripherals the way his tongue digs into the side of his cheek before his head tilts down in irritation. To say the action, and just him as a person, wasn’t attractive would be a huge lie. But you’ve been around him and the other younger guys he hangs out with enough to know how they act, and no matter how attractive he is, it’s easy to think that they’re all talk and no action. 

“A fact has evidence, it has proof to back it up,” Haechan argues, his shoulders lifting and his temper clearly being tested as he rambles on, “you have no idea what I could do to you.”

You breathe in sharply at the way his voice drops, the skin of your chest heating up when he presses his hips against yours. You do feel like a hyprocrite slightly, from your comment about him not knowing how to get started, because as he leans over until his labored breathing hits your bottom lip, you feel lost under his body. 

He takes the way you don’t push him away as a good sign, and the way a shiver runs across you under his stare as a better one. If you weren’t going slightly lightheaded from the tension between you, you probably would have slapped the smirk he wears off his face. Instead, all you can do as he brings his hands up to the sides of your neck is tense your shoulders and twist your toes anxiously into the floor beneath you. 

The moment his lips touch yours, you let out an embarrassing whimper, a whimper that he happily eats up as he forces your mouth open with his tongue. You squirm under his hold, your body aching with anticipation as you hands fly up to grip his biceps. And you’re grateful for the grip you hold on one another, because the moment you touch him, he kisses you harder and leans you until your back curves against he sink. 

He makes a kiss on the cheek feel so vulgar, his tongue dipping into the plush of the flesh, before he drags the flat of his tongue slowly across your jaw. And when he starts to suck patches of flesh into his mouth, starting from the point of your chin and down until he reaches the center of your collarbones, you feel one of his hands slip from your neck and start kneading at the swell of your chest. 

You try not to gasp to loudly into the empty silence of the room, the sound of your labored breath combining with the gentle wet noises of his lips is enough noise for you to be itching with anxiety. You know that each boy that shares the living space that Haechan defiles you in has their own unique sleep schedule, and you can’t stand the idea of one of them being awake playing video games and hearing you falling apart under one of their best friends. 

Haechan pinches at your nipple harshly through the thin fabric of your shirt, a flare of jealousy lighting in his chest for a moment when he thinks of you curled up in Mark’s bed without a bra. But he chooses not to voice this jealousy, and that only leaves you feeling confused when instead he just presses his lips to your’s with much more aggression, your teeth clacking together gently as you moan. 

His hand moves down your stomach, too quick for your brain to fully register as you still try to catch up with his lips, and before you can even think to argue you can feel his fingers dipping under the elastic of your pajama shorts. 

You realize with a twist in your belly, that you wouldn’t have argued even if you could have. Maybe you would have spit some biting marks to hide the way your chest beats rapidly, but it would be foolish to act like the way he touches and licks at you doesn’t have your thighs tensing together. 

His chest presses against yours when his fingers press under the fabric of your underwear, a moan of his own rolling out from his chest when he feels the wetness that’s accumulated between your thighs. 

“You can’t act like you don’t want me now,” he taunts between lingering kisses, smiling at the way you twitch and squeeze at his arms when he dips the tips of his fingers into you. But the real excitement shoots through him when the heel of his hand brushes against your clit, and your knees buckle beneath you. 

“Looks like I was right,” he praises himself, forcebly shoving his middle and ring fingers into you in one go, laughing meanly against your lips before licking from the dip above your chin to the bottom of your septum when you squeak loudly, “you really can’t keep up.”

“Can to,” you try to defend, but your voice comes out much more weaker than you’d ever want from the way he almost immediately starts fucking you open on his fingers. But you fear he may be right when he starts to curl his digits inside you, and the pleasure that rips through you is too overwhelming and too fast. 

“You making a mess of my hand, baby,” he coos as he shakes his head. His free hand tightens against the back of your neck as he twists your head, keeping your eyes forward as you try and avoid his gaze, “making me think you’re already ready to come.”

You let out quiet sobs at his choice of words, stinging tears springing to your eyes as he jerks you around with how fast his hand moves. He’s right, you think with a petulant frown taking over your features, as it feels like you’re only moments away from falling over the edge. It’s probably one of the fastest orgasms you can think of you having, and it’s more than just a bit embarrassing that it is going to come from the hands of the boy you doubted only moments before. 

“You can cry all you want,” he encourages, lifting up to kiss softly at the underneath of your eye as his pushes his palm tighter against your clit. And if it wasn’t for the tingling feeling that touches every one of your nerves, you’d probably would have slapped the smile he wears off his face when he speaks again, “as long as you come around my fingers.”

It’s like his words were the switch, the only think keeping the dam closed, as when he says it and curls his fingers into the spot that has your eyes rolling, you’re twitching against him as your head falls back on your shoulders. 

If it wasn’t for the way your nails dig into the flesh of his arm, you would have fallen back into the facet that’s twisted towards the back of your head when he lets go off your neck. 

You were still suffering through the last biting shocks of your orgasms as he moved his hand to shove down your shorts and underwear, his fingers still thrusting in and out of you regardless of how your fluttering walls try to push him out. 

Your hands slip up towards his shoulders as he sinks to the floor, your fingers twisting into his hair once he rests on his knees in front of you. You try to tug him back up to you, worry gnawing at your still tensing stomach. But once he has his eyes locked onto where his fingers disappear, trying to move him is like grasping at an immovable rock. 

His free hand wraps around the flesh of your thigh, lifting your leg out of the fabric of your pants that had pooled around your ankles, before he lifts the limb to rest on his shoulder. And once he’s faced with the way you gush around his still moving fingers, he grins up at your anguished face, before he dips forward to lick quickly at your buzzing clit. 

“Haechan, no,” you beg weakly, your body going against your words as your hips tilt to chase his mouth as he leans away, “I can’t.”

“So you admit it,” he starts, shifting to get more comfortable between your thighs, showing he had no intention of moving as he continues to finger you as he speaks, “you just can’t keep up with the disrespectful, younger guy?”

“You’re such a dick,” you start mouthing off, ready to rant and tugging harshly at his hair even with your muscles turning to jelly against your bones.

You try berating him with hollow threats, frowning deeply down at him in a way that tells him you’re oblivious of how cute you look. But you only get one huff and pout in, before he tires of hearing your dramatics, and he’s pushing forward to wrap his lips tightly around your clit. 

His fingers speed up back to their brutal pace, his tongue lapping greedily at your bundle of nerves as he ignores you hiccuping whimpers. You do beg him quietly for mercy, but there’s also a growing thought in the back of your head about how much you love the feeling of him pushing you past your limit. 

He groans at the taste of your come that coats your skin, the mess he felt on his hand going a lot farther past that and now coating the expanse of his eager tongue. And to add to the way your taste makes him dizzy, the sounds of you sobbing above him and the way your body twitches in his hold, has him pushing further into you to see how quickly he can have you falling apart again. 

The feeling of his teeth scraping against your skin makes your leg weaken, and without the small amount of support, you sink down onto his wiggling face. For a moment you see through the blur in your eyes, and you worry about his ability to breathe, but when he grunts and nuzzles into your skin happily, you see the way he’d gladly suffocate between your legs. 

“You can apologize now,” he commands between licks, dipping back in after he speaks but letting you know the way he feels when he arches an expectant brow. 

“For what?” you spit out, grasping for words as you lose yourself against his mouth. 

“For underestimating me,” he responds like it’s the most obvious thing, slowing down the way he moves against you until you’re shivering from the slacking pleasure, “you’ll apologize if you want to come again.”

“Haechan,” you whine out, hesitating to mentally debate whether or not you want to stoop so low. But when you start to miss the flick of his tongue and the push of his fingers, you figure it’s all worth it and you can throw your pride out the window just this once. 

“Please, I'm sorry Haechan,” you start with a mumble, your chest burning and your words getting more desperate as you go, “I'm sorry I underestimated you, just please let me come again.”

The only response he voices is a small, pleased, ”hmm,” before he goes back to work against your skin. And you’re glad, as when he does, your still lingering begging words turn to mushed mumbles and you wouldn’t have been able to respond if he had chosen to continue the antics he created. 

Your second orgasm has you gasping for air, your body folding over as your fingers twist painfully into his hair. You can feel your tears now streaming down your face, and as your abdomen spasms and you clench around his fingers again, he hums as if he’s enjoying his favorite treat in the world. 

He doesn’t stop you when you start to sink into the floor, instead guiding your shaking body down as his fingers slip out of you. The crumbled fabric of your shorts dig uncomfortably into the muscle of your ass as you sit, but you try not to worry about the weird sensation as you lean against the kitchen counter and try to regulate your breathing. 

“And what did we learn today?” Haechan immediately starts with a mocking tone, ignoring the glare you shoot at him, tapping the end of your nose with his still slick fingers before he shoves them into your mouth, “never underestimate Haechan again.”

You would love to curse him, call him names, and knock him down a peg. But with his fingers stretching your lips and his smile warming your heart, all you can do is grumble and cross your arms. And as he curls his free arm around your waist and cuddles into your side, you think maybe even with his vulgar mouth and horrible humor, he might not be that bad after all. 

#Haechan smut #Nct smut #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #Kpop smut #Nct blurb #haechan blurb #haechan x reader #ask

[lizzie-is-here]

like the dawn

part xiii- healing

“a monster is not such a terrible thing to be” - ocean vuong

summary: the trials come to a close, but you’re still struggling with what’s left behind.

wordcount: 3.4k

warnings: cussing, tooth-rotting fluff, angst and comfort, mentions of violence, trauma, allusions to homophobia

taglist: @whelvedfeelingsstuff @sebsgirl71479 @rebloggingmyrecs @babyblublossom @local-mr-frog @thenyxsky @capsiclesdoll @moonlightreader649 @saranghaey @almosttoopizza @itsivymusic

a/n: ok i’m slowly getting a bit less busy so hopefully i can post a little more often now! but also a heads-up that i’ll be putting this series on hold soon to do a 12 days of christmas thing! i might try to finish this first, we’ll just see how it goes. sorry for the long wait, and like always, hope u enjoy! love u 🤍🤍🤍

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The better half of the next two weeks were spent in court, ignoring the press, and sneaking away with Steve and Bucky wherever possible.

Years of unsaid words flowed between you three, and you could feel your walls being broken down day by day. You no longer apologize for the extra space your wings take up, or feel the need to soften your voice.

You’re sitting on the couch one day, entranced in an ocean documentary when Clint, Nat, and Wanda walk in, sweaty and straight from training. The latter two join you, while the archer goes to the kitchen and starts making sandwiches.

“So… Anything interesting going on lately?” the redhead asks. You shake your head.

“Not really. Been trying to catch up on everything, so-” You gesture to the TV. “Figured this was a good place to start.”

Wanda tilts her head. “Where are Steve and Bucky?”

“Yeah, I’ve rarely seen you three apart,” Nat agrees.

She wasn’t wrong. You three have been less-than-subtle these past days, even risking kisses in the living room a few times.

“They’re on a run with Sam,” you explain with a smile. “Needed to burn some energy.”

Unbeknownst to you, the three Avengers knew that. In fact, they’d made sure Sam had joined the super-soldiers on their run. They’ve noticed how strange you’ve been acting, and Nat got a bit too invested in finding out.

There’s no malicious intent, but her curiosity overpowers any guilt she’d feel for her mastermind plan. That is, to annoy the three of you until someone tells her what she already knows. She likes the confirmation.

Clint flops onto the couch next to the assassin, stacking two sandwiches and biting into both at once. The way his jaw pushes back to accommodate the ridiculous amount of food reminds you of a snake you’d seen in the previous episode.

“So, has Barnes always been that buff?” Nat hums. She quickly glances over at you to watch your reaction.

Wanda senses a twinge of jealousy that you stamp down surprisingly well. But you don’t give away any physical clues.

“Uhh, yeah,” you begin. “Used to do push-ups in our apartment while Steve and I ate breakfast.”

The redhead grins a devil’s grin, sly and only noticed by Wanda and Clint. “Bet you got a nice view of that ass.”

That makes you cough. Spluttering and bright red, the nearby lamp flickers in time with your heart. She wasn’t wrong, technically, not that you’d admit it.

“I- I never looked,” you excuse, discreetly fanning your face. She hums, but doesn’t press further.

Meanwhile, the super-soldiers are receiving the same treatment from Sam.

“Oh, come on. You two need to get back into dating eventually,” the man sighs, watching as they prickle and stumble a bit.

“I’m alright with where I am,” Steve says, careful in choosing his words. “I don’t really feel like dealing with all of the modern dating traditions.”

Bucky huffs. “Yeah, that time you made me sign into Tinder might have been the worst ten minutes of my life. Made me wish I was still getting brainwashed.”

“Buck!” Steve protests, glaring at his- Well, what was the right title? “Partner” seemed off, “boyfriend”, maybe? Nah, too childish.

“I saw too much, Steve,” the brunet laments. “Some dude had a tattoo of Stark on his-”

“Alright, I get it!”

Sam takes the opening. “Well, is (Y/N) thinking about dating?” It’s impossible to miss how they exchange a nervous glance. “I mean, she’s pretty, she’s been adjusting well. I’m sure she wouldn’t have any trouble-”

Bucky snaps first. “Ok! Ok, ok, Sam, listen.”

Steve sighs. “Buck-”

“Listen,” he continues. “You can’t tell anyone about this.”

Bingo. The Falcon feigns shock. “Oh? What’s ‘this’?”

———————————————————————

By the end of the week, Sam knows all about you three, and Nat is 98.2% sure she say you making out in the kitchen one night. The 1.8% is because she was also extremely over-caffeinated, so hallucinations were always a possibility.

Wanda’s been complaining to Clint about how “emotionally suppressed” you all are, but they think it’s sweet nonetheless.

In all honesty, you don’t really mind if the team knows. The hard part is keeping your budding relationship away from the public.

If they find out, it’ll just pile on more stress to the neverending trials. Your relationship will be grounds for more invasive questions, and you aren’t ready for that. At least, not until the trials come to a close and you either end up free or in prison.

Speaking of prison, Tony’s lawyers had finally confronted Thaddeus Ross about your treatment on the Raft.

“There was no permanent damage done to Ms. (L/N),” Ross’s lawyer argues, enunciating his words. “We knew that, due to her enhancements, she would survive the dosage.”

You say nothing but frown slightly. It had been hours of pain and nausea. Your memory from that week is foggy and jumbled. There was definitely some permanent damage.

“During her interrogations, Ms. (L/N) confessed to having blinded soldiers and burnt them with her powers. It was only reasonable to be concerned and want to minimize damages.”

“And for Mr. Barnes, we used a special set of cuffs that sent an electromagnetic pulse through his metal arm, which was enough to contain him without the assistance of sedatives.”

You bristle at the way they speak about you. Like an experiment. Like HYDRA. It turns your stomach and plants a deep unease. The way Bucky shifts on the other side of Steve reveals that he feels the same way.

The blond captain doesn’t dare to hold your hands. Not now. Not with all of the cameras and eyes. His hand twitches anyway.

You manage through the first half of the trial, but the judge’s next words make your heart drop. They’re calling a witness forward. A last name that echoes in the back of your mind.

“What is your relationship to the defendants?”

You can’t make eye contact with the man.

“They killed my dad,” he says. The courtroom goes silent.

You swallow. He continues to describe how he found the governor dead in his office, a hole burnt through his chest and a ghastly bruise on his neck.

By the time he’s done, you’re so far gone that you don’t notice your hands shaking, or how everyone’s getting up to leave.

“Hey, hey, come back to us,” Steve whispers. You blink, tears welling up as you spot the man shaking hands with Ross.

Bucky follows your gaze, only to rip it away when he realizes. He glances at his metal arm.

He hates excluding Steve, but the words slip from his tongue before he can stop them.

“Заслуживаем ли мы этого [Do we deserve this]?” This. The possibility of getting out of this mess. Of legally washing your hands of the blood, even if the stains would stick around.

A part of you, long buried since the ‘40s, says that you do. It promises that you weren’t in control, that neither of you would have done this out of your own volition.

But it’s so much easier to take the blame. If you’ve grown so used to the heavy darkness, then who will you be when it’s lifted?

And you hate that you can’t answer.

———————————————————————

It’s late that night when you finally turn in. Locking the door, you drop your covers.

You grab pajamas and tug the curtains shut, hand grazing Steve’s as he turns on the TV. Bucky’s sitting on the bed and is definitely staring at the former’s ass. Not that you can blame him.

With a knowing smile, you run a hand through his hair. You feel a presence behind you, and a kiss planted right between your wings. You sigh, exhaling the stress of the day.

“None of that was your fault,” Steve whispers. It hurts to hear. When he’s met with silence, he patiently reiterates himself. “None of it.”

“That man from the trial, I remember the… the victim,” Bucky mumbles. “He told us he had a son. Not that it did anything for him.”

Nodding, you close your eyes as the memory washes over you.

A well-dressed man kneels on an ornate carpet. Your bow is drawn. He holds up a framed picture, pleading in strangled gasps. You loose the glowing arrow as the Winter Soldier holds him up by the throat.

“Is that what you were saying earlier?” the blond asks. The Russian. Reluctantly, you translate your worries to him.

“Do we deserve this?”

It stuns him.

“Yes, you do. You deserve to heal, to be happy,” he chokes out. Steve won’t admit how horrible it is to watch the both of you like this. So worn down and unsure. You never used to doubt yourself, always confident in your skills and wants.

But now you’re blaming yourself for murders you were forced to commit.

Bucky clenches his fist. “They took so much.” There’s no need for elaboration. “We’re not the same people we were back then, Stevie. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be.” He takes the brunet’s hand. “You two are everything I want and all of the reasons I want it. None of us are the same.”

Slowly absorbing his words, the three of you lay down on the large bed, arranging for Bucky to be in the middle. Normally, that’s your spot, but you’re more than willing to abdicate for tonight.

“You’re too smart for your own good,” you chuckle, kissing Steve’s forehead before burrowing into Bucky’s side. Gently running your hand over the web of scars surrounding his shoulder, you allow your powers to flow for the first time in weeks.

A dim glow travels around the veins, casting golden light on the silver prosthetic. Even the residual power calms you as you trace small circles. When the nerves are a bit less inflamed, you stop, and he takes your hand, pressing his lips to your palm.

Steve mimics his motion on his metal hand, never batting an eye when it whirs and shifts.

“Love you both,” Bucky whispers. You parrot it back, the dim light of the TV casting a blue glow on you.

The blond speaks, muffled by his pillow. “Whatever happens, whenever it happens, we’ll face it together, okay?”

You link pinkies with both of them in succession.

“Deal.”

———————————————————————

“Whatever” ended up being the final trial, and “whenever” ended up being four days from then. Tony’s legal team had dragged in a large screen and started up HYDRA footage for the jury.

Even if they’d warned you in advance, you hated watching yourself succumb to the trigger words. It was almost as bad as watching Bucky do the same.

As your screams echoed through the room, many in the jury turned away. Not that you could blame them; it was a grisly sight. Tubes stuck out of your arms and the empty look in your eyes bored through any screen or recording.

But now it was time for the final verdict. You hung on every word, wings fluttering as a representative of the jury stepped forwards.

Her opening speech flies over your head, but then, she turns to you with a small smile.

“We, the members of the jury, find the defendants-“

Ross still has a smug grin on his face, but his confidence all drops away.

“-Not guilty.”

Your hands fly to cover your mouth, eyes watering as the trial concludes. Many reporters are clapping, and the judge offers a polite nod to the three of you before exiting.

You, Bucky, and Steve are instantly in the middle of a group hug, even as Vision awkwardly hovers around.

“We can get you two to Wakanda, T’Challa promised that his sister could help with getting those trigger words out of your heads,” Tony begins, still mid-hug.

Nat rolls her eyes. “Tony-“

“And once that’s done we can get you training, and even start missions if you feel comfortable,” he continues.

The redhead grabs him by the shirt, tugging him away and ushering the rest of the team with her.

“Let the lovebirds have their moment,” she chuckles once they get far enough away.

Sam runs right into the billionaire as he stops in his tracks.

“Lovebirds? What?”

Back in the courtroom, the three of you are still soaking in what this means for you.

“What do you guys want to do first, now that you aren’t enemies of the state?” Steve asks, leaning against a bench.

“I wanna go on a road trip,” Bucky hums. “Take a break before everything goes crazy.”

You nod. “Yeah, we could go down to the Grand Canyon like you always wanted.”

“You could fly it; that’d be cool,” he agrees.

The blond shakes his head. “You two are such nerds.”

Shrugging you stand to stretch from your seat. “You love us.”

Damn you and how right you are. He does. He loves you both a lot. And maybe now he can show it.

“Yeah, and I’d love to be able to kiss you two right now.” But it’s too public, and neither of you are ready. Or so he thinks.

“What, you want to tell everyone?” Bucky asks.

Steve blushes a bit. “Well- maybe not here, at the courthouse? That seems a bit… much.”

“Since when have you been one for subtlety?” you snort. “The only way you could be more noticeable is if you wore a traffic cone on your head.”

He falls silent, and you and Bucky exchange a look.

“Listen,” the latter begins. “We’re both comfortable with it if you are.” The last thing any of you want to do is push the others over their limits.

He thinks, really thinks about it, and steels his resolve. The three of you have waited long enough. “I’m ready.”

You entwine hands with Steve in the middle, and make your way to the front doors of the courthouse. The team is waiting, and Nat, Sam, Wanda, and Clint sport knowing grins. Tony looks a bit pale.

The crowd is bigger than usual today. More signs, more cameras.

“We didn’t really map out the logistics of this, did we?” Steve whispers. Bucky, apparently done with waiting, grabs him by the collar and pulls him in.

When they part for air, the brunet whispers, “Fuck logistics,” before Steve leans to kiss you, gently holding your face in his hands.

The crowd only screams louder, and, in a subtle bit of one-uppery that you recognize in Bucky instantly, he dips you in his kiss.

When you center yourself back in reality, the team is excitedly hurrying up to you. You can’t find it in yourself to give a shit about the crowd. Whether they’re clapping or screaming obscenities, they’re just background noise.

Wanda comes up to you, and without any warning, pulls you into another hug. Chuckling, you pat her back while listening to Tony rave.

“So, you three-“

“Yes, us three,” Steve interrupts.

Stark blinks for a moment. “Wait, you’ve all been sleeping on your tiny-ass bed?”

You shrug. “A queen bed is hardly tiny. We only had a full sized one back in our old apartment.”

“Yeah, but the three of you weren’t all squeezing on that one with your ten-foot wings and the extra inches on Cap,” Sam says.

You can see the gears turning in Tony’s head, but leave him to his scheming. Peter’s equally excited, shaking in place. Or that could be the energy drink he had. You weren’t sure.

“Scott, are you crying?” Rhodey asks over the crowd. The man sniffles before squeaking out, “No! I’m just… Ok yeah I’m crying.”

The rattling of the barriers is your cue to head out. Some of the crowd are pressing past the guards as you pass by.

An elderly man catches your eye, smiles, and tips his hat before disappearing in the throng of people.

Once in the bus again, you take your usual spot with your boys.

“You sure know how to stir up a crowd,” you laugh, taking Steve’s hand.

Bucky grins. “He’s been doing that since those USO tours-“

“Hey! You promised you wouldn’t bring those up,” the blond whines.

“They were really entertaining,” you hum. “Especially the first time I saw you and yelled at you in front of the whole camp.”

He only grumbles, placating when Bucky kisses his forehead and struggles to not laugh more.

“We’re sorry, we’re sorry,” he manages, smiling. You agree, gently tapping him with one wing.

Despite promising not to tease him further, you don’t let up until you get back to the compound, happily retiring to your rooms to change out of the stuffy formal wear.

You’re tugging on some pajama shorts when two arms wrap around you. One metal, one warm.

“Pasăre [bird].” You hum, leaning into the touch.

“Hi, Jamie.”

“‘M tired,” he whispers. You reach up to run a hand through his hair.

“You’re always either tired or hyper, love.” He shrugs, awkward due to your wings blocking the movement of his arms.

You hear familiar footsteps heading down the hallway. “Steve,” Bucky calls.

“Yeah?” The blond has a few bowls of fruit in his arms. “Figured you two were tired.”

“That’s what we were just saying.” You pluck a small orange from the bowl, peeling it slowly. “I think we should ask Shuri about it when we head down.”

“When’ll that be?” he asks. You shrug, discarding a spiral of orange peel in the bowl.

“I’m pretty happy with hanging around for a while,” Bucky says, laying down beside you two on the bed and taking an apple slice. He carefully avoids your wings from where you’re laying on your back.

You pop an orange slice free and pass it to Steve, and as you do so, notice a small cut on his finger.

Taking his hand, you roll over. “What did you do now?” you ask. It’s a tiny cut. Hardly worse than a paper cut.

“Nicked myself on the apple slicer. Turns out Nat sharpens the kitchen tools in her free time, ‘just in case’, whatever that means.” You chuckle.

“May I?”

He nods.

As you work, Steve watches you. He’s always done a lot of observing. It’s how he got good at art, how he got good at strategizing, and, eventually, leading.

He’s never seen a close-up of your powers on him. The last time you used them on him, he was, to be blunt, dying on the banks of the Potomac.

He knows that Bucky knows your powers well. They’re like a safe space for him. They provide memories that aren’t just the cold walls of HYDRA.

But they’re new to Steve. The first thing he notices is how your hands move. With Wanda’s powers, her hands are tense and shaking. The sheer force of the power she holds looks almost painful.

Your hands twist and bend in fluid motions, and though they have the slightest tremble, the differences are like night and day.

The second thing he notices is, well, the powers themselves. The only magic he’s encountered is Thor’s and Wanda’s. Maybe Vision, if the Mind Stone counts. All of their powers radiate a humming noise. It crackles and reminds you of their destructive force.

Your powers are silent. And they almost bloom from your hands. The gold light floats into small shapes, before fading away. When the light touches the cut, the skin sews itself back together.

“…Wow,” he breathes out. You tilt your head.

“What?”

He holds up his hand. “‘What?’? You just healed my hand, sweetheart, I’d say that warrants a ‘wow’.”

“Or two,” Bucky cuts in, pecking Steve’s hand from over your shoulder. You grin when the latter blushes, the slowly setting sun barely peeking through the curtains.

The three of you are tangled together, talking in hushed voices as your hands trail over each other.

Maybe you’re tired all the time now. Maybe the nightmares come every night and the public deems you a killer. And maybe they’re right in some ways.

But you have your boys the way you wanted them all this time. You have a little room and friends who care about you and two bowls of fruit and a TV that you only watch documentaries and cooking shows on.

And you think that that more than makes up for it.

#marvel #marvel x reader #x reader #avengers x reader #avengers #steve rogers #bucky barnes #like the dawn #steve rogers x fem!reader #steve rogers x winged!reader #steve x bucky x reader #steve rogers x reader #stucky x winged!reader #stucky x reader angst #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x bucky barnes

[prurientpuddlejumper]

*shrieks into void* I AM GOING TO FINISH THIS LAST KINKTOBER SMUT BY MIDNIGHT TOMORROW SO HELP ME

#I keep telling myself to skip through all the silly non-smut parts because smut is the only exposition you need #but then I just like the expositioney bits too much?? #The character building? #and I'm like... I don't know if this is necessary or good or boring and alienating #but I can't make myself cut it so the only way out is through #3.4k and maybe HALF their date is over??? #I'm on the fence about Liv and Noah showing up like I kiiiinda wanted to have a cameo but ehhh the episode is running long lol #Maybe all I need now is the smut #OMG I'M GOING TO POST THE FIRST 3.4K TONIGHT MAYBE???? #OR SHOULD I GO TO BED AND POST A LONG CHAPTER TOMORROW???? #I should go to bed really #or I'll get sleep deprived #because my dog will wake me before dawn #sdfgsfdgsfgs #AND I GOTTA FINISH THE CHAPTER BY LIKE NOON TOMORROW OR IT WONT HAPPEN BECAUSE I'M CLIMBING A GD MOUNTAIN #which is a DUMB idea and I HATE IT but my hiking friend wants to and I want to get out of the house and it's like..... #this is my only invite XD #the crazy frozen mountain in the dark wtf #I might legit die tomorrow wish me luck

[chimielie]

say you'll see me again

summary: Suna x Reader. part two to this.

word count: 3.4k

cw: toxic past relationship (suna's ex), a lot of negative self image, cheating (suna's ex), a lot of angst but there's fluff at the end i swear

a/n: yikes

Suna Rintarō is a bad boyfriend.

It’s been well over half a year since the last time he was anyone’s boyfriend, in the strictest sense of the word, but it still rings true in his ears when he hears people whispering about it as he walks by. It might even be stronger confirmation of the statement that he refuses to make anything official and shies away from every iteration of partnership. He’s a player, a bad guy, a real knave of hearts.

A shitty boyfriend.

He feels the words hovering over him like grey storm clouds ruining every sunny picnic date he goes on, dampening every kiss, until it’s been months since he’s even had a fling. He focuses on volleyball and school and friendships and it’s fine. It’s just a universal truth that he has to live with. At least if he’s not fucking around, no one else has to live in that depressing reality.

He’s good at not thinking about it, now, since his love life doesn’t really come up. Sometimes the team jokes about it, but the impact is a lot softer when he knows that they’re just jealous of his game. They mean it in good fun, anyway, and it’s not like he can’t hold his own while they’re bantering. He’s pretty sure he’s single-handedly the reason that Atsumu finally invested in toner and conditioner for his brittle blond hair.

To circle back to the point, he’s good at thinking about anything but this primary flaw. He’s good at thinking about his last video call with his sister, about the satisfying soreness in his legs from going all out in yesterday’s practice game, about how much laundry he has to do because his mom isn’t there to nag him about it. Right now, he’s thinking about whether or not he wants a canned coffee before practice, because he likes the taste, but doesn’t want to interrupt his sleep schedule.

There’s someone already at the vending machine, though as he approaches he notices that you’re standing to the side, eyes on your phone, leaving space for anyone who wants to use it. You glance up, your gaze catching on him, and from there it becomes a frantic bounce between your screen and his nearing form. Up and down and up and down and up, until you’re openly staring.

He greets you like the friends you are, wondering what juicy event is about to transpire. He doubts it’s anything to worry about, refusing to let anything throw a stone in the calm, still lake of his so-far peaceful day. Besides, he likes you; thinks you’re chill, nice, fun to be around.

“You are a badass,” you whisper to yourself, and look positively mortified when he responds.

He thinks the little pep talk is cute. You’re chewing on your lip as you look him up and down, and there’s a little crease between your brows he has the insane urge to reach out and smooth away with his thumb or his lips. With well-practiced mental fortitude, he shoves the thought away and focuses on his snack, deciding ultimately to forgo the coffee and buy a packaged roll. If he gets the green tea flavor, maybe it’ll even count as healthy.

“Funny story,” you say, and the decisive note in your voice makes him turn his head to look at you, into your bottomless eyes, and there’s a feeling like his stomach swooping down and out, faintly reminiscent of the drop on a rollercoaster. You start rambling, and he can’t hold his laughter long enough to let you barrel right over yourself in embarrassment. You want to date him, kind of as a joke, but you look so serious about the proposition, and besides, what if your friends dye your cat purple?

Rapid-fire, he runs through the benefits of this arrangement. Good money, more than he got for washing their teacher’s car with the Miyas and Ginjima (after they egged it, but that’s a secret).

He can’t hurt you, because it’s not real.

As soon as he has the thought, he feels disgusted with himself. Running through the benefits of a relationship as though it’s a transaction is wrong, Rintarō tells himself. But this situation is a little unique.

“Let’s do it,” he says, relishing the shock on your face. He’s always liked to play the contradiction. When he kisses your hand, the feeling is just a little too sweet to be suspicious.

The fake dating arrangement is… good. He’s surprised at how good it is. He can be himself any way he wants — surely you don’t appreciate it when he’s chronically late or unromantically blunt — and doesn’t have to walk on eggshells worrying that something is going to be off-putting to you, that his next stupid joke is going to be the straw that broke the camel’s back. It’s exactly like spending time with a friend, because that’s all it is, if with a little more cuddling than he’s ever done with Osamu. He can’t say he minds the physical contact, anyway. Sue him for being a touch-starved teenage boy.

He gives you his spare jersey on a whim and, whoa boy, was that a mistake. He hasn’t had any blood circulating in his brain for the whole game, not since he spotted you, sporting a grin that nearly made him keel over and looking so good he felt like a champion already. Go home, everyone, Rintarō won the volleyball.

He knows he shouldn’t be snapping his head over every two minutes to admire you as you sit on the edge of your seat, lip caught between your teeth like it was just before you’d asked him out (as a joke, he reminds himself, as a dare). He looks over at you when he scores and relishes in the knowledge that you’re cheering for him. He even keeps his eyes on you during timeout, barely noticing what Coach Kurosu is saying. It’s probably important, but hasn’t he put in enough hours of listening intently to people telling him how to play? It should pay off in exchange for this: you, giving him a tiny wave as surreptitiously as possible, tapping your toes in anticipation, mouthing you’ll crush this. Today, if the words are coming from your perfect lips, he’ll believe it.

He gets away with it, although he’s pretty sure someone bumps into his back with unusual force when they’re walking back. When he turns, though, no one’s there.

They win, because they’re the best and you’re wearing his jersey and he’s the best. He looks over at you to see you standing up and waving your flag in the air and screaming so loud he can distinguish your voice above the others. He offers you a small, tired smile, and watches as your expression shifts from cheering to concern. He shrugs his shoulders to ask what’s wrong in a gesture, and only then he notices Osamu standing directly in front of him (if paces back), throwing a ball to Atsumu to set, the both of them wearing matching expressions so evil little horns appear above their dyed hair.

“Why,” he says flatly, and then Osamu spikes the ball into his face.

Flat on his back on the gym floor, Rintarō surmises that he had not, in fact, escaped notice when blatantly ogling you. It was worth it, he decides, the pain from the blow lessening enough that he’s sure he’s not injured. The floor isn’t so uncomfortable. He might as well stay here for a little while.

“Look, ‘Samu,” snickers Atsumu. “He’s down bad.”

“That was the worst joke you’ve ever made,” laughs Osamu.

Rintarō scrambles up so fast he thinks he hears his knee pop.

“D’you like Y/N?” Osamu asks later, sucking up the last milk pearls at the bottom of his cup with a sound that makes Rintarō want to cover his ears and scream.

“We’re dating, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, but, like, do you liiiike Y/N?”

“Are you five?”

“If it’ll get you to answer the question.” Rintarō pauses and considers. Of course he doesn’t like you, not like that. That’s why everything is so easy, so nice.

“Well, Y/N isn’t like anyone else I’ve dated,” he says, simply, honestly. “But yeah, we like each other a lot.”

He does like you platonically. He’s more mature than that; he can think you’re attractive and enjoy doing couple-y things with you and not catch feelings. It’s just nice to know that he almost always has someone to hang out with off the volleyball team.

Plus, it’s fucking great that he can satisfy any craving he has by asking you out on a date. The ancestors were genius for inventing dating.

He walks alongside you to the taiyaki booth, sure to keep to the outer sidewalk so that any passing cars won’t splash you with gutter water or bikers won’t come just a hair too close. It’s a sunny day, a chilly breeze blowing through to remind everyone not to pull out their shorts just yet. Rintarō’s phone is on do not disturb on his pocket.

He senses her before he sees her, the hair on the back of his neck stiffening as he turns his head slowly, straining to see out of the very corners of his eye. She looks the same — big brown eyes, unimpressed smirk. He can hear her saying it.

It all comes crashing down around him.

“You know he’s a piece of shit, right?” She’s talking to you, and he just wants to melt into the floor. His cheeks flame with shame, and he wishes he could look away, but his gaze is stuck on her cruel expression and lifted chin.

It was all because you’re a shitty boyfriend, anyway.

He says her name. He nearly begs her to stop. He almost wants to get on his knees and plead for forgiveness. He doesn’t love her anymore, but he used to.

“We have to go,” you say firmly, and he’s not sure who you’re angry at. He’s pretty sure you’re angry at her, but — you know he’s a piece of shit, you said it yourself. Everything is awful, so awful.

You take him home, and part of him wants his dorm, drab and lonely as it might be, but most of him wants to be here, where sunshine falls in patches through the shades and there’s space for him to breathe and you’re somehow holding him together from across the room.

You open the interrogation he’s known is coming with a joke, which he appreciates. We’re talking about something months divorced from us. We’re laughing about something that happened to other people.

“She cheated on me,” he tells you, and the words feel thick and ugly when they come out of his mouth. It sounds so simple when you put it like that, all the knots twisted up in him coming looser. Without any other context, it sounds almost like he wasn’t really the problem.

You argue him down. He doesn’t even know how, his brain still half-fogged over, but the pain is quickly dulling into numbness and he’s just exhausted.

Rintarō wonders if she was hurting the same way when she confronted him, if she lashed out because all those barbs had been stuck in her chest. She didn’t seem like she was; she seemed like she was barely giving him a second thought even as she tore him to shreds. The scene rotates in his mind, her calling after him as he walked out, his face so cold he couldn’t feel the tears dripping down his cheeks. He thinks that maybe he’s been making excuses and pushing it all aside for someone who doesn’t give a shit and she doesn’t deserve that anymore.

He appreciates you more for the way you handle it. He’s so tired he can’t even feel guilty, now, and even when he’s tired and hurting, you don’t kick him out. You don’t agree with him on the emotional path he took with the breakup, but you’re not detaching yourself from him. You’re not telling him to do anything except to sit with you and calm down a little. And to watch this video of a chicken.

You sit with him in silence, and when the back of your hand brushes his he thinks about holding it. When he leaves that day, he stops thinking about blame and starts thinking about forgiveness.

Things change after that. It’s still there; a restless worry that somehow, he’ll fuck up over and over again until he’s at the Inako VBC 20-year reunion and the only one left single, but it’s not the same. He stops having to consciously unclench his jaw at the term boyfriend, though, doesn’t make the same jokes you used to hear about his inglorious past. Your relationship changes, too.

He doesn’t think he’s ever felt so comfortable with someone, and he’s not even scared of that fact.

The first kiss is fine. He’s had a million first kisses. There’s an intense tension in the air, one that isn’t cut even when you’re gathered up in his arms and his teeth are leaving imprints on your neck, one that doesn’t go away because it’s all fake.

The second kiss is like something out of a dream. You pinch his ribs and with a broken gasp he knows it’s all really real.

You push him up against the wall, a triumphant smile on your beautiful face, and his heart falls right out of his chest and into your hands.

“Please take care of me,” he whispers to you after you’re caught, and your mouth parts in a silent laugh, but you nod.

“I’ll do the best I can.”

He likes you. He knows this, because he likes seeing his marks on you and he likes the way your eyes squint when you smile and the banter between the two of you ebbs into gentler conversation about deeper topics. He knows this because he likes all of you, his feelings a chasm to his ex’s streams.

He’s not stupid, so he knows you like him. You handle him with more care than you used to, you get flustered when he gets too close (but you don’t push him away), you look at him like there’s a secret in your smiling eyes. There’s an end date on the two of you, though, and he’s nearly grateful for it.

After all, nothing lasts forever (but this is getting good now).

You kiss him with the tragic desperation of a Shakespearean hero on the last date, and he doesn’t understand why. You’ll still have each other as friends. It can be good enough.

Fucking obviously, it’s not. Hindsight is 20/20 and he’s watching his memories play out under a microscope.

This is how he ends up standing in front of you, his feelings eating him alive from the inside out as he watches you chew on your lower lip and break his heart.

“I was trying to get over you,” you say after an interminably long silence. “I was — fuck you, Rintarō!”

You stomp up to him and throw your arms around him, and all he can do is hold onto you. You’re shaking (so is he), and he’s not sure if you’re crying or laughing. When you look up at him, you look happy.

“Is that a yes?” He says breathlessly. He prays to whoever’s listening — I’ll be good, I’ll be good, I’ll be so good.

“I love you,” you say, and that’s his favorite expression of all on you. He pulls you more tightly into him, burying his face into your hair and waiting for you to pinch him so that he knows it’s real.

You don’t. Instead, you hug him until someone needs to get by on their bike, and then you let him walk you home. He kisses you, soft like the petals of a flower, shivering when he draws back like vines in the wind. You cup his face and his cheeks were already warm but he thinks he can feel you blanketing his whole body in comfort now. You don’t follow up on kindness with claws. This is something he loves about you, and the love makes him want to be better.

You fall asleep on his shoulder on the train. He pets your hair with one hand and texts his sister with the other, then takes a picture and adds it to the widgets on his phone, little bubbles obscuring his lockscreen. The wallpaper itself, a photo of you posing in his jersey after a game, smile plastered over your face and lips shiny from his victory kiss, always makes his heart skip a beat. Don’t repeat that, because he’d have to kill you.

He shakes you awake when the stop comes up, and you nearly have to run to keep up with him as you cross the station. He’s sure to keep your hand clasped in his as he speeds up, doesn’t even let go when he collides with his mother, her arms wide open as she welcomes him home. His father does the same and you bow to each other after he and Rintarō separate, and his sister refuses to hug him but bounces up to you, wearing the same brand of shoes he’s partial to.

“Why are you dating him?” Your boyfriend chokes with laughter. Their mother scolds her, but she keeps staring up at you with expressionless eyes identical to her brother’s.

“Because I love him.” There’s something strangely intimate about revealing your feelings in front of people you’ve barely met, and you stumble over the word love. “He’s, uh, a good boyfriend.”

“Good?”

“The best,” you say, and look over at him with a smile.

You can see it on him. He doesn’t believe you yet, but it’s okay if he takes things slow. You have a long time to show him otherwise.

+ bonus deleted scene

You step into his childhood bedroom and inspect every item with the solemnity of a judge.

“I can’t believe you have records and a record player,” you observe. “And sneakers on the wall! That’s so weird.”

“Shut up, I was twelve,” he says, spinning you so that you can only see him and not the odds and ends decor.

“I wanna see,” you complain, but he holds your face in his hands and leans so close his two eyes seem to merge into one. “What’re you hiding?”

“Nothing,” he grumbles. “I just thought we were gonna make out or something instead of commenting on my clear shelves.”

“I can tell that not all of these design choices were entirely yours, that’s all,” you say. “It’s not even embarrassing.”

He makes a grumpy noise, but releases you.

You poke around his room a little more, and eventually conclude that there isn’t really anything embarrassing to be found (although you’ll certainly imply to the Miyas that there is). He sits on his bed and watches you invade his space with a fond smile on his face, wondering if his mother will sit you down and show you his baby photo albums. For now, though, you get bored, and he gets his make out session after all.

“Stay,” he says, when the both of you are sitting on his bed and breathless from laughter and kissing. “We can have a sleepover, c’mon.”

“They gave me a separate room for a reason,” you tell him. “I don’t want to do anything that’ll make your family disapprove of me.”

“Ugh, who cares,” he buries his face in your neck and rolls you over. “It’s not like you need to ask them for my hand in marriage.”

“I’m reliant on them for food for the next week,” you point out.

“We can run away and live on chuupets,” he says. “I’m sure I have enough saved to cover us for a week.”

“And the train ride back home?”

“We can ask Kita-san to drive here, I think he has a truck.”

“Kita wouldn’t approve of us getting kicked out of your parents’ house for scandalous activity either.”

“Buzzkill.”

“I hope you’re talking about your senior and not me.” He makes a noncommittal noise you choose to interpret as affirmation. “Good.”

He hums and flicks your cheek. “Stay.”

“No.”

“I’m breaking up with you.”

“Not if I do it first.”

He kisses your forehead and closes his eyes, his heartbeat slow and steady.

“Not a chance.”

#suna x reader #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintarou x reader #suna rintarō x reader #suna angst #suna fluff #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #haikyuu!! angst #haikyuu!! x reader angst #haikyuu x reader fluff #hq!! x reader #hq x reader #hq x reader angst #hq x reader fluff

[murdrdocs]

focus on me | p. parker

description: You never liked to distract your boyfriend from his work. He was destined for good things, and you wanted nothing more than to support and encourage him. But when you’re trying your best to focus during a study session, you couldn’t help but crave him. Peter, ever the resourceful one, comes up with a solution that would help you both.

includes: smut 16+ cockwarming !!! soft boyfriend peter bc he’s a simp it’s trew, AFAB reader but no she/her pronouns, reader is incredibly horny for peter, buff nwh era peter but that’s only in my mind

a/n: peter … smirks. this was written with toms peter in mind but it could work with andrews peter as well. not tobeys bc i mention brown eyes but he’ll have his moment soon. anyway, enjoy <3 p.s: i’m extra critical of this one so if it’s bad … give it to me straight

word count: 3.4K +

You couldn’t focus.

Peter was sitting on his bed, his leg hanging off of the edge directly beside you. Every so often, you heard the scratching of his pencil, and maybe the soft rubbing of the eraser on the paper. The same sounds should be coming from your end, but you couldn’t focus.

A half hour ago, you whined about how you couldn’t work on Peter’s bed so you moved to the floor where you hoped your productivity would amplify. But so far, it wasn’t working. Instead of gaining the ability to focus, you gained the exact opposite.

Your foot tapped, as did your fingers, your head lolled side to side, sometimes following a rhythm you had stuck in your brain, and you were doodling on the edges of your homework, completely avoiding the problems in favor of the margins.

Peter had picked up on your fidgeting, you could tell because his foot started to mimic them, rapping against the bed along the same rhythm as you did.

You were distracting him. And you couldn’t help it.

Eventually, you sighed, throwing your pencil down and leaning your head onto Peter's calf, thereby halting his movements.

“I'm sorry,” you apologized, eyes squeezed shut in frustration.

“For what?” his pencil was still moving. You wished you had his concentration.

“I'm distracting you.”

Peter chuckled a bit. “You’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“I promise, you’re not.”

Huffing, you stood to your feet, dramatically dusting off your bum even though you knew nothing was there (Peter's floor was suspiciously clean always). Peter stopped writing and looked up at you, a soft smile on his lips as he watched you take a seat in front of him with your legs folded underneath you.

You looked tired, and a bit stressed—Peter could practically see the tension in your shoulders. Gently, he pushed the papers and textbooks out from between you two and opened his arms, silently beckoning you over.

You eagerly obliged, awkwardly shuffling until your arms were wrapped around Peter's waist and his around your shoulders.

“What's wrong?” he asked you, one of his hands beginning to rub along your upper back. The touch made you shudder, goosebumps rising to the surface of your skin. As desperate as it was, just the small touch from Peter awakened a familiar feeling in you. Even more upset, you let out a loud groan, causing Peter to reply with an amused “what?”.

“I'm just so—“ you sighed, again. “Frustrated? Unfocused? Fidgety? It's like I can't get any work done.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” His voice was soft and passionate. He truly wanted to help.

Too bad the thing you wanted from him most was something that would take both of you away from your work.

“No.” you settled on. It sounded unbelievable and Peter called you out on it.

“You’re not telling me the complete truth.”

You pulled back from his embrace to glare up at him, knocking your head onto his hard chest when he only cheekily smiled in response.

You pulled away from Peter completely to stand beside his bed. Your thumbs began to twiddle as you were nervous to tell him.

You and peter have been dating for a while now, and you’ve had sex many times since. But at times like this, when you were the neediest out of both of you, you were nervous to initiate.

Still, you knew Peter wouldn’t let it rest so it would be easier on both of you if you just admitted what was so wrong with you and moved on.

“I've just been … hornier than usual, is all.” your voice was practically a whisper and for once you damned Peter’s superhuman hearing because he was able to hear every syllable without difficulty.

When uttering your confession, your eyes naturally gravitated to anything other than Peter's brown orbs. But when he hadn’t said anything, you couldn’t help but look back to him, your teeth gnawing on your bottom lip.

Peter was in a bit of shock, his mouth parted and eyebrows barely pinched together in the middle, brown eyes widened ever so slightly.

He didn’t seem to realize that he hadn’t said anything because when you raised your eyebrows at him, he went, “oh!”.

“Y-You could’ve just told me that.” He laughed a bit, trying to play your confession off as if it didn’t affect him. But you knew it did. His cheeks turned pink just at the tips and gave him away everytime.

His hands reached out to yours, stopping your twiddling and trying to encourage you to come join him on the bed once again. “Do you wanna—?” he trailed off, the question open ended for whatever you were up to.

For a moment, you gave into your own selfish desires. You couldn’t help but smile as you let Peter guide you down to your spot on the bed again, just a lot closer this time.

His hand cupped your cheek, eyes meeting yours once again except this time with a bit of excitement in them. Slowly, he leaned in until your lips were connected, moving in practiced harmony.

The kiss started off soft, but both of you knew where you wanted this to lead and there was no point of being timid. You took the leap before Peter as your hands went around to the back of Peter's head, nails scratching along his scalp.

Peter let out a soft gasp into your mouth and it further edged you on. You broke away for a second to rise to your knees, using the position to move yourself to straddle Peter's lap.

Not paying attention to where you were going, your knee makes contact with Peter's homework, crumpling the paper.

It’s then you break out from your daze.

Peter's hands reach for your hips but you stop him before they reach you.

“Wait, Peter.” He looks up at you, eyes soft and worried. Before he can ask what’s wrong, you interrupt him. “You should be doing your work, I don't wanna pull you away from that.”

He takes a second, eyebrows furrowed as he tries to remember what you’re talking about. He glances to his side, mouth forming an ‘O’ and then going back to his smile. “That? That doesn’t matter, I can do it in the morning.”

You shake your head. “No. It's due first thing tomorrow. You should do it now.”

Peter says your name sternly, trying to convince you to listen to him. But you’re not having it.

“No, I don’t want to distract you.” You move away from Peter's lap, struggling to not go back when he reaches an arm out for you. “Seriously, peter.”

He sighs and seems to understand that you weren’t going to let him win this argument. You watch him reach for his work and you begin to think that he’s going to go back to it. Until he makes a face that says ‘i have an idea’.

“What if there’s a way for both of us to get what we want?”

You tilt your head, nonverbally encouraging Peter to elaborate.

“If you don’t want to do it just let me know but I heard about this thing from … it’s not important where I heard it but—“

“You’re worrying me, Peter.”

“Just listen!” He has a shy smile on his face as he says it, both of his hands held in front of him as if to stop you. You oblige.

“So what if you sit on my lap and I, you know… work.”

“I'm not sure I understand.”

Peter sighs, eyes rolling towards the back of his head as he prepares himself. His voice is quiet when he speaks again and you suddenly feel as if you’ve switched positions. The dynamic change is a bit dizzying. But not as dizzying as what Peter suggests.

“What if you cockwarm me?”

“If I what?!” It comes out before you can stop it and it sounds harsher than intended. Peter looks a bit embarrassed when you say it, and you can tell he’s about to take back the idea. But again, you stop him.

“Wait, that sounded rude, I'm sorry.” You’re reaching out to cradle his head between your hands, pressing an apology kiss to his forehead. “I just didn't expect you to say that.”

“I know and if you don’t wanna do it, that’s fine. We could just forget I ever said anything and I can go back t—“

“I wanna do it.”

The two of you had awkwardly walked to Peter's desk as you both agreed that what you were going to do—cockwarming—would work best on a desk chair.

Peter sat down and you stood between his legs, thumbs back to twiddling. He glanced down at them and gave you a reassuring smile.

“Are you sure?” he asked. You nodded.

“I'm sure.”

Your thumbs hooked under the elastic waistband of your shorts and you pulled them down in one swift motion, leaving you in an oversized shirt and a pair of panties.

Peter's hands found the back of your thighs and he began to guide each leg to straddle his own until you were sitting in his lap. Your toes touched the floor and your hands found purchase on Peter's shoulders.

You flinched when he slipped a hand in the small gap between you two in order to push your panties to the side. They were an older pair from Victoria’s Secret and the elastic was well worn down, so they slipped out of the way easily, creating the perfect space for Peter's cock.

He’d already taken his sweatpants off, leaving him in a classic pair of checkered boxers. You could feel the ghost of his semi against you and subconsciously your hips gravitated towards the bulge.

“Patience.” Peter mumbled as he swiped a digit between your folds, gathering slick that he used to easily guide his finger into your entrance but only to the first knuckle.

“Peter,” you warned, continuing when he hummed. “Don’t tease. You have homework to return to, remember?” You joked in order to hide how eager you were.

Peter humored you for a second before he allowed his finger to slip all the way in.

You were more sensitive than usual—side effects of the fidgets, you convinced yourself—and you searched for more. You knew that this couldn’t go too far, at least not yet, and you halted Peter from fingering you by grabbing his wrist.

“Okay, okay.” He breathlessly laughed as he removed his finger from you.

His arm wrapped around your waist to keep you steady against his chest as he reached forward and pulled open one of the drawers connected to his desk. He fumbled around for a second before landing on what he needed, bringing it back into view to showcase a condom.

You moved your hips back to allow Peter room to pull himself through the convenient hole in his boxers. You watched him as he ripped open the pack, and then slid the condom down onto his cock, pumping it a few times before he did so.

The sight of Peter’s dick sitting so close to you, ready to have you wrapped around him, made an even needier feeling rise to your stomach and you took action into your own hands, raising yourself to your toes with a hand still on Peter’s chest and the other wrapped around the base of his dick, steadying him as you guided yourself towards the tip.

Once aligned, you slowly sunk down and simultaneously, your and Peter’s nails dug into the other's skin from where they held onto, yours on Peter's shoulder and his on your waist.

It took a few seconds for Peter to completely sheathe himself into you, and a few more seconds for both of you to completely relax.

By the time Peter asked if you were okay, you had your feet rested on the side foot rests of the chair, your head in the crook of Peter's neck and your hands wrapped around his back.

When he felt you nod against his shoulder, he scooted his chair forward, the motion moving his cock as well. You stiffened, as did Peter before he mumbled a swift “sorry” and cleared his throat.

Cockwarming was harder than either of you imagined.

You don’t know how much time passed, but eventually all your senses could focus on was Peter. Every single sense engulfed him, took him in until he was your only thought. Peter was doing so much and you were wrapped around him in more ways than one, causing you to be aware of every single thing.

Peter's fingers of his left hand tapping along your hip, under your shirt and directly against your skin. His other hand moving along his paper, his bicep flexing as he did so. The way chest rose and fell as he steadily breathed under you, your own breathing mimicking his so you moved with him. The hard wood digging into the bottom of your feet.

You took in his scent with every inhale; the clean beach smell of the Old Spice he used blended well with the mellow smell of the laundry detergent.

And of course, the full feeling of Peter’s cock taking up space inside of you, filling you perfectly to the brim.

You were trying your best not to move. Truly, you were. But the urge was tugging at every nerve in your body, seducing your brain with promises that it would feel so good and be so rewarding. It got to a point where you couldn’t avoid the feeling, the desire. Gently, trying not to be caught and maybe play it off as more fidgets, you raised yourself just a bit and sunk back down. You thought for a second that you’d gotten away with it, but your mouth just had to open and let out a breathy moan, right beside Peter’s ears.

You froze, eyes turning to look in Peter’s direction even though you could only see the side of his neck.

“Shh shh,” He gently shushed you, fingers going from tapping to gently rubbing your skin.

“Peter,” you whined, sounding more breathy and desperate than you intended. “I can’t.” Your hips began to move on their own accord, starting to bounce along Peter’s cock.

His hand gripped your waist, seemingly going there to halt your movements. But he instead let you continue, just for a few seconds to indulge you both. You thought he was going to let you finish. Maybe this would be his break period, and he would give you relief.

Then, he stopped you.

You groaned, frustrated and embarrassingly, on the verge of tears. You were so riled up and agitated and all you wanted, the one thing you craved, was release.

“I know,” He soothed you, his grip loosening from your hip and instead going to rub your back again. He turned his head to press a caring kiss into the side of your head. “Just hold out for a little bit longer. You can do that, can’t you?”

You let out a shaky breath and then you nodded against his neck. You didn’t have the strength to pull back and look him in his eyes. And Peter seemed to understand this because he kissed your cheek and then went back to his work.

You thought that after your brief slip up, you would be able to contain yourself once more. You had a taste of freedom and surely that taste would sustain you for the time being. But the memory of how good you felt for a solid minute tugged at your brain, once again convincing you to distract your boyfriend for your own selfish desires.

You stopped yourself with the thought that Peter had to finish his work. That was the main concern.

So, you managed to hold out, for who knows how long, until Peter sighed and his pencil hit the desk, his head tilting back to face the ceiling.

“Finished?” You timidly asked. For the first time since you assumed that position, you lifted your head from the crook of his neck, hand resting between his pecs.

Peter lowered his head, a dopey smile on his pink lips as he happily said “yeah”.

His hands are on your hips in a split second, holding you in position as he begins thrusting into you without warning.

Shocked by the sudden change, you let out a choked moan. Your fingers curl and you grip Peter's shirt for security.

He moves one of his hands to press against your lower back, forcibly arching your back and pushing your chest against his, allowing him to feel just how your tits––free from a bra and only bound under the flimsy cotton of your shirt––bounce against his chest. Keeping the one hand there, his other cradles your cheek, leveling your face to match the position of his.

He watches how you react to his movements. He watches the way your eyes shine and your eyebrows raise as he thrusts into you. How your open lips let small whines slip past them, yet they struggle to retain the saliva in your mouth, almost letting drool drip from them.

Cockily smiling, Peter helps you out by bringing your lips to his. He takes your saliva into his own mouth, swapping with some of his own as he knew that sharing was the right thing to do.

You’re trying to kiss him back, but you’re not as coordinated as Peter and it’s hard to take in his thrusts and kiss him at the same time. The effort takes energy out of you, even more than Peter's thighs slapping into your own does. So eventually you just pull a part from Peter and instead rest your forehead against his.

He doesn’t complain as the proximity let’s him see and feel just how aroused you are.

You’ve started to grind down on him now that you’re no longer distracted by his kisses, and he can feel that you’re approaching the peak and all you need is a bit more.

Peter is a gracious boyfriend, after all, so he gives it to you. He removes the hand cradling your cheek to reach between you again, but this time his middle and ring fingers find your clit and begin rubbing wide circles on and around the bud. Meanwhile, Peter begins kissing along your jaw and neck. All the while his hips aren’t faltering even a bit, continuing their steady pace.

His coordination dizzies you, and your muscles begin to contract. Your knees turn in from where they are on the sides, kneecaps digging into the wood on the side of the chair. Peter can feel your walls constricting his thrusts ever so slightly, tightening around him, and he notices how your hips are struggling to continue to grind against him.

So, he takes the extra step and does that for you, his hand moving from your back to grip your hip bone and force you to grind against him.

All of this at once sends you over the edge without a warning. You shudder above him, your body practically shaking as your head finds the safety of the crook of Peter's neck. He helps you ride through it by slowing his fingers down on your clit but he continues to chase his own high at the same time.

It's only a few more thrusts before he’s getting sloppy and uncoordinated and then his cock buries into your cunt once more and he’s groaning under you, twitching inside you as he cums into the condom.

Peter stills inside you as you two take large gulps of air, yours breathing heavier than his as his strength and stamina was higher than yours.

Gently, Peter cradles your cheek again and pulls your face to look at him. He smiles at you and leans in to place a sweet kiss on your lips, then another on your nose, and a final one on your forehead.

“Feeling better?” He asks.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

It’s silent for a moment and you take that as a cue to stand, your legs a bit wobbly from the unfamiliar position you were sitting in for a while. Peter places his hands on your waist to steady you, only removing them when you make him do so with your own hands on his. You slip on Peter’s boxers without any question and walk away to the bathroom, where you pee and use a wet towel to wipe yourself off. You rinse it clean, and then bring it to Peter, the brunet accepting it with a small ‘thanks’.

He seems to realize that he isn’t getting his boxers back and instead of getting a new, clean pair out of his dresser, he instead slips on his gray sweatpants, leaving him bare underneath.

He looked divine; brown hair still sticking to his forehead with his curls on display from the sweat. The black tee shirt hugs his muscles perfectly and the gray sweatpants compliment the outfit well.

You turn your eyes away from him, not wanting to stare longer and see the bulge that’s no doubt there as it would get you in the same position as you were in before.

But that’s what Peter wants. You can tell by the knowing smile he lets take over his lips.

He climbs into the bed with you, sitting at your side. His head turns to face you, brown eyes twinkling in the yellow lamp lighting as he says, “How bout I help you with that work and we go for round two?”

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