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seraphdreams · 4 months

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SMILE, YOU'RE ON CAMERA. | YUUTA OKKOTSU.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — synopsis. when taking care of your university finances proves troublesome, the universe grants you your very own savior. but it’s gonna cost you.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — cw. smut, college au!yuuta / bimbo reader (obvi), filming, lots of porn references… a lot, virginity loss, praise, oral n fingering, slight obsession, pussydrunk yuuta, unprotected love making, yuuta’s rich and unsettling. mdni <3

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — word count. 5.3k

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — dolled up! omg, yuuta? i meant to have this out a few weeks ago but got caught in a little writing slump :( nevertheless, here’s to a new year and a new fic! yuuta’s been slowly creeping his way up my favs list , tehe !! as always, please reblog / comment if you enjoyed this , it’ll fill me with joy. thank u ♡

you’re a pornstar.

albeit, an amateur one with heaps to learn regarding the ruthless industry, but the weight still stands.

the details in which you came to the jarring conclusion were muddled with the convoluted steps that it took for you to get there, murky in your bubblegum-filled mind. all you knew was that yuuta okkotsu was a force, a gentle one, to be reckoned with.

it must’ve played out once you returned to your campus dorm beyond the dusk of midnight, under an unmitigating fatigue from the twelve hour waitressing shift just prior. through abhorrent patrons and the lack of a spendable paycheck, the excruciatingly long night barely made you enough money to even think about buying those dollish pumps you’ve been yearning for. how cruel.

in between working and haphazardly handing your earnings over to university fees and textbooks, you just couldn’t seem to make ends meet.

you would curse the day you took it upon yourself to branch away financially from your parents under the guise of growing up, since now it’d be a blessing to have even a cellphone bill paid off. whatever the issue seemed to be, lady luck was truly never bothered enough to be on your side.

fortunately for you, though, it was that same arduous night, you had been huddled against your stuffed animals in bed, mindlessly scrolling through the various social media apps on your phone; switching from sites like instagram and twitter to youtube then right back to instagram all over again, only to be met with an offer dusted in pink glitter that caught your eye as if it were made for you.

“stars needed — will pay upfront.”

it was a shoddy story post, one that could be clicked past and forgotten forever — yet, a brisk reminder of your situation in the form of borrowed, used textbooks with pages missing or vandalized, and today’s horoscope that said to take risks; you did exactly that, aiming a swipe up that would ultimately rid you of the worries of yesterday.

there were no reasons as to why you couldn’t be a star. certainly, you had the face for it, and you were told by multiple charmers that you were beyond beguiling to get anything you could ever ask for. what dismay could possibly unfold from contacting .. yuuta okkotsu .. about his offer?

hm, that’s funny. the name rang familiarity as it seeded in your mind.

must be one of yuuji’s friends.

itadori yuuji, your best friend of three years now. out of all the time you’d spent together, you came to realize that he could get along with anyone, despite their true intentions. he spoke highly of his friends as well, which earned him a sacred spot in your heart that couldn’t be replaced by anyone.

itadori had briefly mentioned in a ramen-fueled frenzy that one of his peers were “so insanely talented” and that you’d definitely get on with him. but when you asked for validity on that vague claim, all yuuji seemed to respond with was a mere “just meet him, you’ll see.”

from your recollection, the acquaintance he was boasting about, as if it was his own personal victory, was none other than your yuuta okkotsu. he was meek, stuck to a close-knit friend group consisting of maki and toge from your physics class, and the one time you ever spoke to him was to ask about yuuji’s whereabouts, to which he responded that he went back to his dorm after gojo-sensei’s lecture.

he seemed, normal. average, even. that surely had to be the case since your memory was hazy on his being otherwise.

it was true, though, yuuta was gifted. in a way that transcended words, skillful towards visual aesthetics, and careful with the craft. he would spend most of his freetime fumbling with a camera or recording the works of the mundane. overtly, he’d grown such a strong passion in the field of videography in hopes to capture the reality of humanity, the authenticity within intimacy — what could he possibly need a “star” for?

shadiness aside, you were in a tough spot, willing to do whatever to free yourself from the financial burden that was jujutsu technical university. with a swift swipe in tandem with the soft tapping of the pads of your thumbs on the keyboard, you were taking yuuta up on his offer.

within seconds, he responded back with his address and an appropriate meet-up date to start the project.

if only you were aware of how drastically your life would change from here on out.

a cluster of days had passed since you last got into contact with yuuta. he had told you to meet him at his place, claiming it would be more efficient than traveling to an unnamed destination with pounds of heavy photography equipment.

where you stood currently, was in front of the bare oak of his front door, hand wrapped in a loose fist as you knocked gently on the wood. a quick moment had passed by before you took initiative to raise your fist and knock once more. before your touch could meet the wood, a muffled “coming!” chimed beyond the door. from what you had heard on the other side; the scuttling behind the door and jingle of the lock, yuuta had opened the door soon after.

with his hand rubbing away the goosebumps that stood at the back of his neck, he beamed. cordially, warmly.

“you’re actually here. hi,”

upon first glance, yuuta had a distinct look. he stood tall, not tall enough to matter or incite intimidation, and although he wore a black button-up (a bit formal for an occasion as casual as today), his lean build shone through under the thin fabric, ripples of veins dancing up his forearms. what you couldn’t miss, however, were the grey eyebags under his emotionless navy orbs, as if he’d forgone weeks of sleep.

yuuta okkotsu was unsettling.

“hi,” your voice sounded as a sweet croon, dulcet enough that you could barely hear it yourself as it escaped in a breathy breeze. his smile grew softer in response, that monotonous gaze in his eyes fizzling away into something of serenity. “come in, please,” yuuta held the door open wider for you to tread past, caught up in observing the bunch of fabric that hugged tightly around your ass, then closed it gently behind you once you stepped completely inside. he silently cursed at himself for ogling — he truly didn’t mean to stare. you’re just a lot prettier up close. “i was just getting set up. you can have a seat if you’d like.”

as you’d expect from any guy your age, his place wasn’t much to gaze at, nor did it have much personality. in a corner to your right was a houseplant, that of the fern variety, and a few steps deeper into the abode was the living room, where yuuta resumed his fumbling with the transfiguration of his tripod.

you decided to sit on the couch across from him, taking in the bleak sight of his home. you would have almost believed it was unlived in had it not been for the scattered midterm review papers decorating his coffee table. it was obvious he had money from the endless rows of space that surrounded the two of you, although a candle or something would be nice.

he peered away from his tripod to look through the viewfinder of his camera, ensuring that the lens was functioning properly. he grew pleased to see the image of you distracted in fiddling with your thumbs reflected back at him. “are you nervous?” his gaze fell upon you through his own eyes, a concerned expression harboring his features.

you were pulled out of your muse of unfamiliarity to direct your attention to the sound of his mild voice, returning a smile to his that eased the worriment trapped behind dull, blue eyes. “n-not really, i don’t think.”

his lips curled up once more at that, in fact there wasn’t a time so far that you hadn’t noticed him without his signature smile. “here, let me help with that,” reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone, tapping away at the screen before ultimately turning it back off and settling it back into its place in his pocket.

your phone vibrated beside you, screen lighting up with a bold alert.

[YUUTA OKKOTSU SENT $1000]

before you had a chance to even process the significance of the notification, he started back up,

“i hope i got the right information, wouldn’t want your hard work to get in the wrong hands.” the tilt of his head in tandem with a chuckle resonated sheepishly, and he returned to watch you through his camera lens.

he was right. the money did soothe your nerves.

“i’ve barely done anything yet.” a ditzy giggle followed soon after your sentence, a sound that yuuta couldn’t possibly ignore. you were already starting to pull at his heartstrings.

“and you’ve done it so perfectly,” his praise left you flustered in that moment and you bit down softly on your lower lip to keep your smile at bay. “thank you, yuuta.”

you would’ve never guessed that your introverted classmate had enough experience in him to be such a flirt, or have your cheeks heating up with fervid affection, no less. but maybe yuuta was just like that; maybe this had been natural.

“no, thank you.” his thumb hovered over the record button just as his eyes met your gaze over the brim of the camera. “would you like to start now?”

he took the nod of your head as confirmation to press the record button, finally getting started with the project.

you blinked blankly at him as he tilted his head and flashed a warmhearted grin. “how old are you?” was his first question. he had asked while rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. as he did so, you took notice of the silver ring donned around his finger.

he couldn’t have been married, no?

keeping your answer as vague as possible for the sake of matching his comforting warmth, you responded, “twenty-something.” he let out a satisfied huff of air as he nodded and moved onto his next query.

“and what’s your major?”

with the question barely having enough time to linger in the suggestively tense air, he added, “you’re very beautiful, by the way. do you mind taking your dress off for me?”

as much as it should’ve alarmed you, you were swayed by his toothachingly inviting timbre, its gentleness pulling compliancy from you in a matter of a few mere words. you only shook your head, forgoing the short piece of fabric that clung to each curve and dip of your body while your nipples hardened under the glacial, artificial breeze of his home. once the silk pooled at your hips, that, along with your panties were dropped onto the floor, leaving you bare and vulnerable under the camera — and yuuta’s watchful eye.

he swallowed thickly at the sight, remaining as respectful as he could despite the monster growing in his pants; his eyes locked right back onto yours as if he’d get striked down for moving them even a millimeter south. “are you a virgin?” he queried, opting to move his hand from awkwardly at his side to fidgeting with the button at his shirt, ultimately undoing it and revealing another inch of skin at his heated chest.

from the nature of what you had signed yourself up for, you were hesitant to answer his question. of course you needed experience to be a star, and with you lacking the preconceived ability, you could kiss your $1000 goodbye..

yet he looked at you with an expectant gaze. no traces of malice in his eyes or frustration from your quick witted silence, but merely, with patience. and in that moment you couldn’t find it within yourself to lie.

“i am,” out of shame, you curled in on yourself, hoping that the sofa would engulf you, and your feelings, crossing your arms over your bare chest as if it’d create a wall of privacy behind your own humiliation. “is that okay?”

yuuta’s being only grew warmer at the response, you figured he’d be hot to the touch by now, from searing pleasure or unshakeable cordiality, you wouldn’t know. “yeah, that’s okay,” it came out breathier than he would’ve liked, a telltale sign of his aching desire. “that’s more than okay.”

truth be told, he had never met anyone as enchanting as you. you looked up at him with such trust in your eyes that it daunted him — fear that the assurance he wielded from you would shatter beneath him, and he’d be drowning. in a sea of his own wistfulness. now that he had you, he couldn’t let you go.

you were on to make a breathtaking star.

now feeling less coy than before, you relaxed your head into the palm of yuuta’s hand. you hadn’t noticed how long he’d been stroking at your cheek, or when he closed the vexing proximity between the two of you, all that mattered in that moment was the roll of his gentle vocables flowing through your ears and the thumb of his that graciously caressed your cheek.

you came to realize that he was much more handsome this way as your eyes toured his own, then down to the sliver of sweat-sheened skin peeking from underneath the black veil of his shirt, then down to his…

he’s so fucking hard.

confined against his slacks was his cock that leaked an ample amount even while it was untouched. you could make out its silhouette, something girthy, perhaps heavy, but nothing like you’d expect from yuuta. uncharacteristically huge.

“yuuta.” you whispered, mainly to yourself, as your mouth began to water at the sight, and his cheeks dusted pink once he realized what you were fixated upon.

“do you wanna,” he started up but faltered soon after when your lidded gaze flitted back up towards his. never had he felt so weak before, it was as if you’d casted a spell on him. “do you maybe want to—” he paused to avert his own gaze and embarrassment. “—put it in your mouth?”

he could’ve sworn he heard the increase of his heartbeat in his ears when you crinkled your brows, pretty face forming into an even prettier pout.

“but i’ve never—”

he stopped you before you could start, interjecting his own voice of reassurance.

“it’s okay. i’ll guide you,” taking his camera off its stand and moving the rest of the configuration elsewhere, he held it in one hand to better capture the scene unfolding before him. “just try your best for me, okay?”

“okay.” when he returned your concern with a small smile, you took it upon yourself to undo the arrangement of his pants, carefully hooking your finger into the elastic waistband of his briefs and pulling down just enough for his length to spring free.

for what felt like minutes, you marveled at his sheer size, wondering how anyone of his nature could possibly be hiding something like that. it curved upwards with a prominent vein or two running up the underside while it continued to leak, so much so, that you had to collect it all at the tip with your finger.

the tip? flushed the prettiest pink you’d ever witnessed and was as bulbous as it was mushroomed, you knew you’d have a bit of difficulty trying to fit into your mouth. it seemed to twitch under the fanning of your breath to which yuuta let out a whine of pure impatience.

“can i..?” your words trailed off when you involuntarily found yourself pressing chaste kisses along the length of his cock until they met with his sticky tip; a recreated scene from the various porn videos you’d seen. the sensation sent a jolt of palpable pleasure through his being, yuuta’s dark hair curtaining over his eyes while he made a damn good attempt at silencing his moans, with his teeth sunken into his bottom lip.

your eyes kept watch at his wavering expression while you wrapped your hand at the base of his length and began to pump slowly, yet another thing you had learned through the fascinating world of porn.

“suck it,” it was clear to you that yuuta had grown desirously impatient from your teasing, looking down at you with a hint of hunger in his beautiful orbs. “please?”

you took his words as an incentive to finally give him what he’s been leaking for, wrapping gloss-sheened lips around the thick inches of his tip, accommodating for the stretch with a dulcet whine that reverberated deeply within him. had you not been caught up in building the gradual bob of your head, he would’ve kissed you, left you with smeared lips and a tongue that ached for only him upon seeing the sinful sight of innocent eyes fixated on his own. you’re beautiful. truly, to die for.

caught all on tape to be watched over and over again.

at the bliss, yuuta’s lip parted open, alotting for a slur of groans turned whimpers to tumble past. “you- you’re already doing, so good.” he praises, the words floating on his breath. his free hand finds itself back at your face, thumbing the warmth of your hallowed cheek while he captured the moment behind his lens. once you came to a comfortable rhythm, you couldn’t stop yourself from dipping your fingers between your thighs to ease the evergrowing ache in your core. in fact, you’d been like this since the moment yuuta spoke a word to you, lightheaded and malleable — what he’s beginning to love most about you.

your digits collected slick at your entrance, the immeasurable amount of essence that you’d pool providing ample leeway for you to sink three fingers inside, pumping at the same rhythm in which you’re sucking yuuta. soft fingertips curling against your gummy walls weren’t enough, though, and when he had caught notice of your weakening resolve, his hips involuntarily bucked into your mouth.

“sorry, ‘m sorry,” he began, with a choked moan. “just- so close, so fucking close. c-can you take me in deeper?”

the hum of assurance that sounded from you sent vibrations coursing through his cock, from tip to base. had you not been preoccupied with chasing your own high, you would’ve missed the pitchy moan he let out just after. with your palm now pressed up against your clit while you worked in tandem to pleasure the nub and your greedy hole, you attempted to swallow another stubborn inch of him.

simultaneous with the bobbing of your head, he matched your pace, abdomen flexing when the white-hot pleasure became too much and he could feel it in his ears. he wanted so badly to throw his head back, completely lose himself in bliss, but he had a job to do. he wouldn’t dare let the sight of your glassy lidded eyes and glossy lips struggling to wrap themselves around the stretch of his dick go unfilmed, unseen.

as his tip continued to prod the back of your throat and your fingers aided you in relieving the discomfort from your cunt, you found yourself just dangling off the dangerous edge of your release, strokes away from making a mess — and yuuta did too.

it wasn’t long until his head started spinning, legs got weaker, and his core coiled tighter; all the signs of a mindblowing orgasm, and blew his mind, you did. “baby- y/n, if you keep doing that- i might cum.” what he was referring to was the way you fondled his balls in the warmth of your soft hands, yet another trick you had learned from porn. “i don’t wanna cum in your mouth but if you—,”

a jumbled slew of curses flowed from his lips as he did the inevitable, shot his load deep down your throat, gently thrusting his cock in shallow strokes to jettison every last remaining drop. the taste on your tongue was nothing like you’d be warned of before. yuuta wasn’t bitter, he went down easy.

hell, you’d use his cum as a condiment for desserts if you could.

in a matter of moments, your own high had washed over you like cold water over a heated body, much needed and refreshing. once he hesitantly pulled out from the heat of your mouth, cock still hard and twitching for more, he gently pushed back strands of loose hair behind your ear.

“can i see?”

you held out your cream-slickened fingers, sopping with your juices as yuuta proceeded to catch how they dripped on camera. he then took your palm, with the cadence of a knight kissing the back of a princess’s hand, and slipped the soiled digits into his mouth. his tongue lavved around your index and middle fingers while he hummed satisfactorily at your taste. “you’re just as sweet as i imagined.” he smiled, finding amusement in your post-orgasmic, dazed state.

“do you do this with a lot of other girls, yuuta?” you queried, taking the time to scan your eyes over his face. it was as if he seemed to get more attractive as your time with him went on. he tilted his head slightly, finding your question endearing. “you’re my first, actually.” yuuta responded softly, as if his normal speaking voice would be too heavy on your delicate ears.

you jumped at the chance to tease him as he did you, placing your thumb back over the slit of his hard-on and lightly rubbing; which resonated within yuuta as a tonal mewl. a little smile pulled at your lips when you got your perfect reaction. “can you be my first?”

“i’d love to be,” he took your request with unadulterated honor as if he’d been tasked by the deities above to serve you. “just- just lay back for me. i promise i’ll take good care of you.”

and that you did; conforming to his call of request with such compliance it made his heart swell. you had positioned your body to rest languidly against the seat of the sofa, shaky legs hesitant to spread fully while your hand roamed up your sternum to find solace in kneading your tits.

he couldn’t deny how beautiful you looked, laid out for him as such. how had he been so lucky to be the only one to have the opportunity to marvel at the scene? with a steady hand, he faintly trails his hand up the expanse of your inner thigh, a silent beckon for you to open your legs wider. involuntarily so, your body had accepted his presence and allowed for the spreading of your thighs.

what you’d come to notice with yuuta was that he was watchful, observant. he seemed to pick up on every detail, even the minuscule bits that were most likely to fly over anyone else’s head, had been taken into account. it’s probably why he’s immensely proficient at what he does. not once had he allowed himself to miss the labored heaving of your chest, or the sheen of sweat thinly coating your body — the twitching of your clit when he stroked featherlight touches at the nub. he couldn’t call himself a true cameraman then.

his fingers had collected remnants of your previous orgasm before they worked in tandem, both middle and ring, to prod at your sensitive hole, slowly sinking themselves in. it was almost embarrassing how quickly your greedy cunt swallowed him in, as if it’d been waiting for his touch for years now. “y-yuuta, ‘m still sensitive.” you crooned in response to his digits exploring your cavern, plush walls gripping him with such tautness that he’d found it difficult to even curl his fingers.

his own mind spun (and cock leaked) at the thought of that same warmth around his length, and when you called his name, all he could think about was how pretty you’d sound moaning it. he wouldn’t mind if you were sonorous, if the neighbors would hear, if inumaki who lived downstairs would come knocking with a mouthful of complaints, if the whole world knew his name; because in that moment, yuuta okkotsu was yours.

yuuta okkotsu was in love.

after some shallow pumping, enough to have your legs attempting to enclose around his arm, yuuta had pulled his digits out and replaced the lost sensation with the fat tip of his cock stroking your slit up and down.

“i’m gonna put it in, okay? if you want me to stop, tell me. if i'm going too fast or slow, let me know.”

he perused your face for a hint of an answer, seemingly nothing going on behind your vacant, large eyes. your initial response was curt, an ode to the simplistic nature of your mind. “mhm.”

how endearing you were to him, just a unadorned reaction weakening his being, causing his heart to figuratively crumble within its confines against his ribcage. he had searched for a heartier answer, something tangible to hold on to, because, lord knows how terrible he’d feel if he took your indication the wrong way. “can you be vocal for me, please?”

you nodded your head. “i’ll let you know, yuuta.”

with a carefulness that only came from the most benign of beings, he had sunken the first inch of himself into your awaiting heat.

he was paused when your hand dashed to his lower abdomen, futilely pressing against the skin.

“wait—” you huffed wantonly. “—‘s too big.”

his eyes wavered with concern, hidden under the veil of pure arousal. in yuuta’s case he had dreamed of a compliment as self fulfilling as yours, for his thoughts of being average were shattered upon first inch. “should i stop?”

you shook your head, reveling in the light of his attentivity towards you and your body. “no,” you moved your hand from his abdomen. “don’t stop.”

one of his arms rested beside your head, helping to prop him up over your body while he dropped his head down to watch the way your bodies connected. gradually, the sight of his length slowly sinking inside, stretching you out further and further until he was in to the hilt flooded his vision. yuuta had caught on to your labored gasps, merely growing harder from your honeyed voice like music to his ears.

he then lifted his head, strands of inky, out-of-place tresses falling over his face and partially covering the depth of lingering eyes, that lingered for a second too long, causing that shuddering sensation you had once felt when you first met him to reappear. he held his camcorder beside his face, an all too cheerful grin masked over his features. “i’m all in!”

creepy.

there was no doubt that you hadn’t felt full. he practically spilled over with how much girth he possessed and throbbed innately within your walls. the swell of your tummy from just how deep he was, was enough to tear away at his composure and drag his length back before driving his hips in at a force unrecognizable to him. the yelp you had let out from his eager thrust dwindled into a blissful moan. “sorry, so sorry.” he whispered, unable to take his eyes off the faultless assortment of breathtaking features that was your face, eyebrows creased together, parted lips and eyes squeezed closed as if you’d been focused solely on the pleasure he was giving you.

his next thrust stroked softer than its predecessor, having no remnants of eagerness but instead, the nuance of a man that’d been simply smitten.

the meticulousness of his ministrations coursed through your body wondrously, each push and pull lathered in lust, savored to be remembered for the rest of his time on earth. it was as if he’d known your body for years, knew every dip and fold, every swell and mast, aware of what exactly it took to leave your body hungry for his touches.

you’d grown comfortable in the pace at which he set, your mind hazing over each time the blunt tip grazed along your gspot. he peppered kisses along your jaw and down your sternum, the fanning of his warm breath against your chest doing the minimum in stiffening the peaks of your breasts. shootable footage forgotten, yuuta took your mound into his mouth, teeth gently rolling against your nipple which caused you to tighten around his cock in response, the sweetest mewl he’s ever heard from you tumbling from your throat.

“at least take me on a date first, yuuta..” the wittiness of your voice had earned a stifled smile from him, finding utmost admiration in the suggestion. he’ll be sure to take you up on your offer, just as you had done for him.

when you felt the familiar coil within you starting to build up once more, you dipped your hand down to rub at your clit in tandem with the increasing vigor of his strokes. the sensation was all too foreign to you, too pleasurable that you couldn’t keep your sounds at bay. “‘m so close, g-gonna cum!” you had warned, yuuta pulled away from your tit with a soft pop. he chose to rest his head at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, mindlessly chanting the words like a mantra.

“i love you, i love you,” his pace faltered, growing sloppier by the second. “love you, love you so much.”

intoxicated by your heat, your scent, just you being you, and being so perfect — yuuta was pussydrunk. incredibly so. never in his life had he ever felt as high as you made him. you were an angel, sent to him from heaven, to defile and mark.

quickly, your release surged through you in torrents of ecstasy, nothing that you’ve experienced before, coating yuuta’s cock in the glorious essence of you. “cumming!” you cry, to no avail particularly since yuuta wasn’t wholeheartedly aware of the situation at hand. his mind was clouded with you, just as you were full of him, wincing in the aftershocks of your fervent orgasm and convulsing around his length with need.

it wasn’t long before his own ununified thrusts came to a sudden close, signifying the warm spurts of cum painting your insides, filling you entirely to the brim and leaking down your ass from riding out his high.

“god, i love you.” he whined, pressing faint kisses to your neck, unable to peel himself away from your fervid body. coming to your senses, his words finally resonated for you. “we only just met.”

he pulled himself up, opting to look down at your flushed face with a vague hint of confusion on his face as he tilted his head. “have we?”

“we have.” you nodded.

to yuuta, he’s known you his whole life. you were the light of his existence, the fire in his heart. had he managed to confuse you with someone else? surely, that wasn’t the case.

once he pulled out of you, he made sure to capture the moment that you leaked his seed on film, but in that time, borrowed jealousy had filled his soul. he couldn’t share the tape as he had planned, no one else deserved to see you in the same way he did. no one.

he tucked himself back into his pants, leaving you bare and oozing for just one second to fetch a warm wet rag to clean you up with. when he came back, you noticed just how chipper he’d gotten, if that were even possible. “you were amazing,” he smiled, gently wiping your folds pristine. “i’m so grateful you came to me.” the smile you returned matched his own, “thank you, you were- really good too.”

he perked up, eyes moving from between your thighs to your face. “really?” and when you nodded to him, you could see the apparent relief flow within his being. “you know,” he started. “i’m very interested in you.”

you tilt your head, jutting your lips in a cute pout. “interested, how?”

the camcorder that now resided on his coffee table, unpresumebly documenting the scene on display was picked up by yuuta, and turned off. he grinned softly, eyes shutting from his ear to ear smile.

“may i take you on a date?”

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sweeterlovers · 2 months

Text

OK MR CHAMPIONSHIP / MAX VERSTAPPEN

max verstappen x influencer!reader / SMAU FIC

WARNINGS / google translated dutch (soo it may be wrong)

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liked by verstappencom, schecoperez, and 547,893 others

maxverstappen1 a weekend off from racing 👍👍

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user098 MAX WHATTT

user8 buddy thinks he can just post a soft launch and think no one is going to notice

user024 like you are not that slick ✋

user6 never been more confused

user1222 i’m just going to ignore this post 😁

user1 real !!

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yourusername weekends with my favorite person to cuddle with and this guy 😽😽

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user5 so pretty !!!!

user00 my favorite influencer ❤️

user2 miss girl has two f1 drivers in her likes…..

user641 the hell is an f1 driver???????

user2 a bunch of guys racing around in circles 😊

user641 hmmmmm

user9 🤍🤍🤍

yourbestfriend i see the boyfriend has made it onto the instagram page. i feel forgotten

yourusername i literally posted you over 10 times on this page calm down ✋

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yourusername my two favourite people yourbestfriend & maxverstappen1!!! this is obviously not counting jimmy and sassy whom i’ve adopted since dating this random dutch guy 😊😊😊😊😊😊😊

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f1wags NEW WAG ALERT 🚨 ‼️

user775 super cute couple!!

user1 ikr!

maxverstappen1 i love you so much schat (babe)

yourusername i love you so so much mijn kampioen (my champion)

user8 “my champion” 😭😭 thats so sweet

yourbestfriend your my favorite person too YN!! (also you and max are cute or whatever 🙄)

yourusername i love you too ❤️❤️

maxverstappen1 i know you love us ✊✊

INSTAGRAM

liked by f1wags, yourusername, and 348,522 others

maxverstappen1 mijn mooie meid (my beautiful girl) i’m so grateful to have you in my life 🤍

view all comments

user0 i’m going to cry 😭

user2 literally sobbing they are so cute!!!!!!

user11 she is so pretty 😍

yourusername 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 i love you more than life itself

maxverstappen1 i love u more than life 🤍

use76 may become my favorite couple on the grid

f1gossip such a cute couple!!!! can’t wait to see her at a race!

f1wags me too !!!!!!!

#formula 1 #f1 fanfic #f1 smau #sweeterlovers #formula one #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x yn #max verstappen smau

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xiao-come-home · 2 months

Text

Boothill relationship headcanons;

┏━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┓

✰ Characters: Boothill x reader.

✰ Words: ~1k.

✰ SFW+N//SFW ; SFW mentions no pronouns or gender of the reader. N//SFW section was written with fem!reader in mind.

Warnings: THIS HAS A NSFW PART. MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS skip this section if possible. some of these hc are based on this post, since i wanted to write a little more about it.

A/N: BRAINROT gRR he truly gives me doctor by Miley Cyrus vibes. idk how to explain it but take it

┗━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┛

Boothill:

SFW

he's such a gentleman! opens doors for you, pulls out a chair, kisses your hand when he sees you first for the day, it doesn't get boring for him at all. if you ignore some of his unhinged behaviors, then he's a perfect man.

like i mentioned in my previous post, he's VERY possessive of you. he does like to go to unknown clubs or bars with you to try out their best drinks in his spare time, though he doesn't have you attached to his hip (even.. if he wouldn't probably mind at all), he does keep a sharp eye on you. if a weird guy approaches you and you're clearly uncomfortable, he tries to intimidate the guy away and clearly let him see that you're his (aka placing his arm around your waist and pushing you into him), if being polite doesn't work, well, they have a rough night. not in a good way.

this man SCREAMS BACK HUGS!! since his body is like 90% metal and machines, he loves to embrace you from behind and wrap his arms around your tummy, while his chin rests on your shoulder. he misses the softness of his own skin, so having you gives him a lot of comfort; the warmth you're radiating makes him reluctant to ever pull away. boothill often finds himself touching his cheeks with his robotic arms, when they get warm enough - the feeling almost long forgotten in his mind.

speaking of back hugs: he's also very big on neck kisses, mostly giving than receiving, depending on how he feels, they're either very innocent and loving - very soft, paired with butterfly kisses, or biting you and then kissing it better, when things get steamy.

boothil finds it funny when his hair tickles you when he hugs you from behind. if he's feeling particularly like a little shit that day, he can annoy you the entire day like that, only to respond with "hmm? what do you mean? I'm not doing anything, baby!" ...don't tell him his smirk gives it away, but honestly, at this point, he probably doesn't try to hide it that well.

he DOES slap your ass when you go past him. EVERY time. it doesn't get boring for him, he likes the sound it makes AND how soft it is, bonus if it jiggles, then he's even more proud. he might offer "an apologetic massage," which you rarely agree to (but he'll try until u say yes).

if someone ever tinkers with his Synesthesia beacon, he cannot swear for his life. you might catch him trying to cook, spilling something, and then hearing loud "YOU LITTLE DAISY FLOWER! CUTIE PIE! CURSED FROG!" it's kinda impressive how colorful they can get...

speaking of his voice, he's probably able to manipulate it so it sounds the best according to your taste. although his flesh heart has been gone for so long, he still feels that familiar, warm feeling and squeeze of his own, mechanical one, when your answer is always the same - to modulate it so it sounds the closest to what it used to be, or that the current one is just as pleasant to hear.

he likes to kiss you. no matter where, or when. if he wants to, he'll get one, pressing you against him, cupping your face with one hand, and kissing your puckered lips. once you give in, he kisses you properly, caressing your cheek ever so slightly to ease any discomfort left, only to hold you tightly on your hips and whimper on purpose just to tease you more (i believe in boothill is a little shit theory).

if we assume his face is the only human part of him left (besides his eyes). In that case, he just truly loves the softness of your lips on his. he kisses you as much as he can, and will get all fussy and whiny if he doesn't get his good morning kiss, we-see-each-other-for-the-first-time-today kiss (note: this is not the same as good morning kiss), goodnight kiss and so on. yes, he could get it by himself, but he wants it from you first. he's just very stubborn.

watch out! he likes to draw blood on your lower lip when his intrusive thoughts win. he licks the blood off later, and gives it a loving kiss.

his hair is genuine, so he loves whenever you play with it, brush it, or take care of it in general. it's probably one of the very few human features of his, so if your boothill lets you carefully pamper it, let alone without flooding his cords, he's not only very impressed, but also very willing to indulge in more sessions.

finds it absolutely adorable when you wear his hat when he isn't looking. or, well, when you think he isn't looking.

N/SFW. minors and ageless blogs shoo!

the council has decided that he has a vibrator in place of his real junk. but if you're into experimenting and want him to feel a bit more, hm, natural - he's more than happy to change his parts. shape, size and pace - everything for his lady.

you can probably guess, but that's an absolute ass man. he sees you in tighter pants that hug you just so nicely and might go feral.

eats pussy like a starved man. he has no shame and licks, sucks, and fucks you with his tongue and THE SOUNDS could put the devil himself to shame. boothill always wants everyone to know that you're his, how you scream and moan for him, so in return - he never lets a drop of your juices go to waste, slurping and moaning into your slit.

he's literally so flexible, that he'll fuck you in every position you want him to. if it means he'll get deeper, he's on board. and probably on top of you too.

likes to grope you through your clothes. sounds very tame, but it really gets him going, and might sometimes cause trouble in public.. unless you WANT that trouble.

adding to the headcanon above - he truly just gets turned on by your skin, especially imperfections. stretch marks? he'll kiss them all, scars? he has them all memorized. when he touches you through your clothes, he already remembers what is where, it's like he's edging himself knowing that soon enough he'll undress you completely and see it clearly; he quite literally worships what truly makes you... you.

he. is. so. SO over when you pull on his hair. when you make out, when he fucks you - doesn't matter. DO IT and he'll go absolutely crazy, hissing in pleasure and grinding into you.

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #boothill #boothill hsr #boothill x reader #.headcanon #oops #gif by @/freyito!!

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maplesyrupsainz · 2 months

Text

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙make you mine | CL16 LN4 ˖⁺｡˚⋆˙

pairing: charles leclerc x singer!reader y/n (she/her) x lando norris

genre: social media au, polyamorous relationship

warnings: just polyamory & fluff

summary: in which you never censor yourself online but your boys wouldn't change you for the world

a/n: i luv the polyamory reqs lollll

request!!!: I've been obsessed with Charlando recently so I was wondering if you could maybe write a smau for them with singer!reader, I don't have a plot other than the fact that they are dating someone like Renée Rap with zero PR training, can you imagine the chaos

fc: madison beer

my masterlist

twitter ->

instagram ->

charles_leclerc posted a story

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55, and 432,054 others

landonorris you're telling me

liked by charles_leclerc

user1 omg aw

user2 awww our precious girl

user3 still not used to u dating her

landonorris posted a story

liked by charles_leclerc, yourusername, and 389,766 others

user4 charlando looking after y/n <3

charles_leclerc only if we feed her 🤔

landonorris well..... true

user5 yummm pancakes

francisca.cgomes i miss her

landonorris i told her and she literally squealed at the mention of your name..

francisca.cgomes heheheee that's my girl

landonorris and here we were, thinking she was ours

messages ->

instagram ->

yourusername posted a story

liked by francisca.cgomes, lilymhe, and 982,712 others

user6 omg

user7 i am no better than a man

user8 what have they done this time

liked by yourusername

landonorris baby please we said sorry it was an accident

charles_leclerc ma belle please we're begging

francisca.cgomes posted a story

liked by charles_leclerc, yourusername, and 134,927 others

charles_leclerc she's with YOU?

landonorris return her to us this instant

francisca.cgomes idk what you're talking about 🤷‍♀️

user9 make em squirm

user10 😍

yourusername 📍 paris

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris, and 1,043,365 others

yourusername the boys forgot about me but she never would

tagged: francisca.cgomes

view all 8,943 comments

francisca.cgomes i wouldnt dream of it sweetheart 😍

yourusername stop im blushing....

landonorris stop flirting where we can see it charles is distraught

yourusername so was i when i realised you'd both forgotten to include me in your travel plans

user11 LOL is she being serious😭

user12 the most beautiful wags by far

pierregasly go away back to monaco and free my girlfriend

yourusername YOUR girlfriend? huhhh i know you aint talking about my girl kika

pierregasly @.landonorris @.charles_leclerc please make her forgive you so i can live in peace

charles_leclerc you don't think we're trying 😢

francisca.cgomes try harder 😋 (or dont) (i love having her around)

user13 LOL y/n always brings the chaos to social media 😭

user14 i just know lando & charles' PR team are tired

messages ->

instagram ->

yourusername posted a story

liked by francisca.cgomes, carlossainz55, and 671,346 others

lilyzneimer deserved

yourusername right?!

user15 hahaha what a fun spectacle to watch unfold via instagram

carlossainz55 you guys are crazy

yourusername 😘 perhaps true

carlossainz55 no, definitely true

user16 i know this was charles' idea

charles_leclerc 📍 monaco

liked by pierregasly, yourusername, and 844,971 others

charles_leclerc time to get serious for the home race

tagged: yourusername, landonorris

view all 7,375 comments

pierregasly thank god

charles_leclerc 🤨

user17 OMG THEY R SOOO CUTEEE TOGETHER

user18 im so jealous of them

yourusername get my boys on the podium!!!! 🥇

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris

user19 she gets it

landonorris us going back to being rivals on the track: 😢

charles_leclerc my heart isnt in it, dont worry

user20 omg why is the cutest thing ever

yourusername posted a story

liked by francisca.cgomes, lilymhe, and 612,854 others

lilymhe bored much?

yourusername they are too busy and serious to entertain me. send help

lilymhe im coming to collect you immediately

francisca.cgomes they bored you into becoming an impromptu artiste?

yourusername pretty much 😂 lily said the same thing

francisca.cgomes ok good cause me too. On my way!

user21 trust y/n to supply us with the charlando content 😻

twitter ->

instagram ->

yourusername 📍 monaco

liked by lilymhe, oscarpiastri, and 1,024,736 others

yourusername congratulations to my boys on p1 and p2 🩷✨🎀🥰🌸💘🌷🩰 never been so proud in my life!!! by the way i just dropped a new song called make you mine .. this one's for my boys:))) ily all

tagged: landonorris, charles_leclerc, lilymhe

view all 14,827 comments

user26 NO WARNING?????

user27 what the fuck

lilymhe i screamed tbh

alex_albon can confirm

yourusername oh stop it you guys 🤭

francisca.cgomes IIIII WANNA FEel the RUSHH

yourusername real 👀

user28 SCREAMMMMMM

user29 our chaotic queen 👸

landonorris oh my god baby

charles_leclerc no way

messages ->

instagram ->

landonorris posted a story

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, and 716,826 others

user30 oh god i love these three

oscarpiastri cute

lilyzneimer love her <33

user31 sickly sweet😭

charles_leclerc posted a story

liked by landonorris, pierregasly, and 801,626 others

user32 the hand drawn hearts is too cute

user33 y/n is the luckiest girl in the world

user34 giggling and kicking my feet over them

pierregasly you guys are crazy

charles_leclerc crazy in loveee 😎😎😎

yourusername posted a story

liked by charles_leclerc, francisca.cgomes, and 974,626 others

user35 the red and orange hearts😭😭😭

user36 them all posting each other celebrating i could die rn

user37 idk who i wanna be more

francisca.cgomes my fav throuple

yourusername how many others do you know

francisca.cgomes not the point!

landonorris

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, and 837,907 others

landonorris live inside my mind you can see the shrine got you on my walls ..

tagged: charles_leclerc, yourusername

view all 11,737 comments

user38 omg🥹🥹🥹🥹

user39 omg they are sosososososo cute together i cant cope

user40 oh to be y/n y/l/n

francisca.cgomes a moment for make you mine song of the year 🙏

landonorris pinned 🧷

yourusername iktr 😎

charles_leclerc my honeys 🍯

yourusername hehe

landonorris i love you

charles_leclerc i love you ❤️

yourusername i love u sweeties

user41 the little nicknames🥹🥹🥹

user42 i'd die for them

landonorris same

THE END ❤️🧡

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wonustars · 14 days

Text

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖶𝖺𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖧𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝖧𝗎𝗌𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽 (Teaser)

𖥔 pairing: kim mingyu x reader 𖥔 wordcount: ~15k+ (this teaser: 599) 𖥔 genre: fake marriage au!, fluff, angst, smut (18+ mdni)

𖥔 reblogs, likes and comments are always appreciated ♡! tumblr is based on reblogs not likes, and they help writers like me to get better reach. thank you!

𖥔 summary: you and mingyu (a former mafia member and also your ex-fiancè's former best friend) are forced into witness protection. All you’ve been told is that you’re meant to act like a happily married couple. Pushed into a cookie cutter house, and a suburban neighbourhood far from the city, where people bring you baked goods on your first day and partake in small talk, it’s all foreign and new. There’s so many things you don’t know about him, but for a man who’s only known violence and all things illegal, he’s somehow the perfect house husband.

𖥔 tags: fake relationship/marriage!au, non-idol!au, mafia!au, afab!reader, norbert is readers cat (more tags when the fic is posted) 𖥔 release date: may 14 or 15, 2024 𖥔 author's note: if i end up posting after the predicted dates plz do not crucify me 🙏 ik a lot of people have been waiting for this one so i'd thought i post a teaser since i have 2-3 chapters left till its finally finished. thank you to all of those who sent in their ideas and to those who've shown so much interest in this story :") i really hope it lives up to your expectations!! see u soonest - anna ♡ !!!!

𖥔 keep reading

The first few days at the new house were uneventful and awkward to say the least.

Mingyu spent the majority of his time doing random housework, he thought that if he had to live here for a year, then he should at least try and make it as “homely" as possible.

Many of the women in the neighbourhood had deemed Mingyu as their new eye-candy. Despite the fact that he wore his pink shibu inu apron while tending to the garden at the front of the house. They would especially make sure to take multiple laps around the block during their group walks, drooling over his toned muscles as he began to plant an array of flowers on the lawn.

Mingyu isn’t very observant when it comes to people finding him attractive, believe it or not. He automatically assumes that the wives of Bridgewater just wanted to get to know the new couple that just moved in.

“What a beautiful garden you have!” one of the wives called out from the sidewalk, her eyes glinting with appeal.

“Thank you, It’s not done just yet, but I think we’re finally getting somewhere,” Mingyu smiles bashfully.

“Of course dear. You know if you’re ever free you should come and take a look at my garden,” another lady giggles, her innuendo flying right over Mingyu’s head.

The group of fourty plus year old women all giggle like school girls as they watch his face turn red with flattery. Mingyu scratches the back of his head awkwardly as they bid him good-bye, curious as to what they group of women thought was so funny about him taking a look at their gardens. It’s all just a bunch of flowers isn’t it?

The sound of your car’s engine brings Mingyu out of his thoughts, his gardening tools forgotten by the piles of dirt he left. You lug Nortbert’s carrier as you walk into the house, acknowledging his presence with a small nod. His pink aprons raises a few questions in your head, but you decide not to comment on it.

“Oh hey you’re back, is he ok?” Mingyu asks, motioning to the carrier you hold in your hand.

Halting your steps, your eyes widen as you realize that he’s talking to you, there wasn’t much conversation between the two of you since you’ve moved in. so you found it a little surprising that he’s asking about Norbert, the cat who tends to show lots of aggression towards him.

“Morning. He’s ok, I just took him for his check up at the vet,” you shrug before entering the house.

You leave the conversation there. There wasn’t much else to say anyways, and you had a lot of work to get to before the end of the day. If Mingyu feels a little bit ignored by your actions, he doesn’t make it noticeable, going back to working on his garden.

From across the yard, neither you of Mingyu notice Seungkwan’s looming figure as he and Vernon enjoy the Friday morning sun. He watches the two of you from his porch with a quirked eyebrow. They’re awfully awkward for newly weds, he thinks to himself.

“Nonie, don’t you think they’re a little weird?” Seungkwan nudges his boyfriend, who’s mumbling to himself while Vernon reads his book.

Vernon quirks up, moving his headphones a little to hear what his boyfriend has to say, “huh? Sorry I was reading, what’d you say?”

“Nothing, go back to your book love,” Seungkwan mumbles, his eyes still darting back and forth from your descending figure and Mingyu, his suspicions spiking once more.

#kim mingyu #mingyu #svthub #mingyu x reader #mingyu smut #seventeen fic #seventeen smut #svt fic #svt smut #svt x reader #seventeen #seventeen fanfic #mingyu fluff

620 notes · View notes

miraclewoozi · 4 months

Text

DO YOU DREAM OF ME? - c.hs

the first time you kiss your soulmate, you’ll open your eyes to a world of colour. the problem? vernon hates the thought that he might pull away from you and still see in monochrome. or, five times he wanted to plant one on you, and the one time you beat him to it.

pairing ; vernon x gn!reader. content ; all the tropes. 5 times fic. soulmate au. slight college au if you squint. f2l. fluff, some angst. pining. one (1) hint of suggestiveness if u squint. MINORS STILL DO NOT HAVE MY CONSENT TO INTERACT. content notes ; mentions of reader having a(n unnamed) partner & thereafter, going through a breakup due to said partner cheating. reader is maybe implied to be shorter than him but hopefully not too obviously or frequently. alcohol is mentioned & is a key theme in scene #3. pov switch for the final part (necessary for logistical reasons.) PLEASE let me know if i've forgotten anything. w/c ; 9.6k note ; welcome to thee most self indulgent fic ever lmao. i hope u enjoy this slight break away from what i usually post here (as if my entire brand isn’t writing losers in love. ANYWAY) -- this was very fun and a little bit special for me! <3

“What was your first kiss like?”

Initially, Vernon swears he just didn’t hear you right. It’s dark up here, where you’re hiding away from a party on the roof of his university accommodation and he’s starting to get tired. There’s some sort of siren wailing away in the distance to his left, and on the street below, a gaggle of freshmen are cackling as they walk past the building. His ear closest to you is currently listening to your favourite song.

All the signs suggest that he simply got it wrong.

But he doesn’t know if he believes those signs, especially not seeing as when he looks over at you, you’re staring pointedly up at the stars overhead. He doesn’t doubt that you’re giving yourself an ache in your neck in the process, too.

“Hmm?” He asks, taking out the earphone that connects him to you. The other one is still nestled away in your ear and he reaches to gently pull it away. “What was that?”

You still don’t look at him, but you do repeat yourself. Quietly. “What… was your first kiss like?”

“Oh.”

He was right.

“You don’t have to tell me,” you hurry to say, hugging his jacket tighter around yourself to block out the cold air that blows across the rooftop. He shrugged it off and told you to take it the very moment your teeth started chattering — almost an hour ago now. His arms are bare, shoulders and biceps only covered by a t-shirt so thin it’s practically sheer, but he isn’t cold. He’s always run hotter than most. “Sorry.”

He nudges you with his knee, silently telling you that you don’t need to apologise. He doesn’t mind — you just caught him off guard; Vernon hasn’t given this any thought in a long time, and he has to really put his mind to coming up with an answer. It was forever ago — when he was eleven or twelve, maybe, with his first ever girlfriend. They dated for a whole two and a half weeks. He doesn’t know if it really counts: the kiss was a dare, after all.

“Kinda…” He starts, trying to follow the line of your sight, wondering if he can find the exact stars you’re looking at. “She’d just put this weird lipgloss on. It was real tingly. And like, neither of us knew what we were doing? So it… got everywhere. I think I ended up swallowing some, I don’t know. My mouth felt weird after. Thought I was having an allergic reaction.”

You laugh softly at him. “I think that would put me off for the rest of my life,” you say.

“It almost did,” he chuckles. You hum at him and lean back on your elbows, leaving Vernon more than a little bit confused. He readjusts his hold on his knees, bringing them closer to his chest as he tilts his head down at you in your new position.

“…why?” He asks, just as you close your eyes and take a deep inhale of the cool air.

You just shrug. “I guess I just… wondered.”

He nods, and it’s his turn to fall short of a response, but that’s okay. You’ve known each other for too long for these silences to feel uncomfortable. He grew up with you. In fact, he’s reasonably sure he’s told you this story before. He must have done.

Then he realises, maybe he hasn’t. Because he doesn’t know the story behind yours, and maybe that’s just a line the two of you never came to crossing. He knows he told his other friends, back then, because he was the last one in his circle to have a first kiss and he felt like it made him more grown-up, or something. Naturally, he left out the more embarrassing details. But maybe you just told your other friends who weren’t him, and went on with your life. Maybe yours was just… normal.

Either way, he’s interested now. And there’s no time to ask like the present.

“What was yours like?” He asks, fiddling with the strap on his wristwatch. You don’t answer straight away; he doesn’t think anything of it, because neither did he, but when he’s still waiting for you to speak a small eternity later, he prompts you again. “Hey, it can't have been worse than mine.”

You snort.

“You’ll laugh at me,” you say, shaking your head. Vernon furrows his brows and drops his legs flat, twisting to one side to look at you.

He doesn’t know where you’d get that idea from, but he’s… almost a bit offended by it?

“No I won’t,” he tells you softly. Maybe at first, he might’ve laughed with you, if your story happened to be as dumb as his own. But not at you. Never at. Not when he’s been the butt of the joke in too many friendship circles, for about as long as he can remember.

You take a shallow breath, pursing your lips. “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not…” you start to say, before you clear your throat and try again, this time heading in a different direction. “I don’t know. It’s dumb, I guess.”

“Don’t make me come down there,” Vernon threatens playfully, poking you in your side. You squirm, giggling despite yourself, despite the serenity of the sanctuary you two have found, despite the fact that you, too, were on the edge of falling asleep before your question came out of nowhere.

He pokes you again, and again, and then starts to tickle your ribs instead. You squeal, swatting his hands away to no avail and you move to sit up, grabbing him by the forearms to physically make him stop. The grin on Vernon’s face is wide and heart-shaped. A warm feeling spreads through him: it has everything to do with the sweet sounds of your slowly dissolving laughter.

You sit cross-legged across from each other like this for a moment or two. Your knees are touching. Your hands move down his arms until you’re holding him firmly by the wrists. Your eyes lock together: his crease with the sheer force of his boyish smile, while yours are narrowed, daring him to try and wiggle free and attack you again.

He doesn’t, but for the first time ever, he’s struck with the urge to do something maybe more scary.

The urge to just… lean in to you.

It makes his heart do a backflip, in a way that it hasn’t done since he had his last crush. His head goes empty, and he forgets what he was even asking you before: the only thoughts he can muster are ones regarding what your lips taste like, whether they’re half as soft as they look, if you’d lightly touch his shoulder or his arm or his chest or his cheek—

Do you smile when you kiss?, he wonders. Do you sigh? Do you—

“I’ve never kissed anyone,” you answer, looking away now and letting go of him. He’s gone so loose in the moments since you grabbed hold of him that when you’re not supporting their weight, his arms fall like two cinder blocks onto his knees.

True to his word, he doesn’t laugh. He’s surprised by your revelation, sure, but in no way humoured; actually, he feels a little saddened by it, for a reason he can’t put his finger to. He ends up not saying anything, just biting the inside of his cheek; he wants to ask why, but knows maybe that’s a bit of a dick move, and if it’s something you’re sensitive about he doesn’t want to risk hurting you.

But he’s watched people fawn over you for years, and he doesn’t think you’ve ever been short of attention from those who have thought you were attractive. So it can’t be that you’ve been lacking in chances? Surely?

“I thought… maybe I should save it,” you go on to explain. Your hands keep busy by playing with a thread at the cuff of his jacket sleeve, wrapping it around one finger until the skin beneath it pinches before you unravel it again.

“Save it?” He asks. You nod your head.

“For when I thought I’d found them.” You pause, swallowing hard. “Like I said, it’s s—.”

“No it’s not,” Vernon says abruptly, shaking his head. He holds onto you now, one hand slipping around your back until it rests on the shoulder furthest away from him. You scoff. He squeezes you into his side. “Hey. It’s not stupid.”

He doesn’t like how this admission has, somehow, made his desire to kiss you stronger. He hates that he feels even more drawn to you, a magnet finally finding its opposing pole. It freaks him out a little. He’s never wanted to kiss anyone this badly.

Red button theory, he tells himself to try and get back on the straight and narrow. If you hadn’t said anything, none of this would be happening.

“It’s romantic,” he says finally, swiping his thumb in small motions over the top of your shoulder. You nod, mumbling a ‘thank you’ (for what, he isn’t sure), and shiver. Vernon doesn’t know if that’s because of his proximity to you or because you’re finally starting to feel the cold. Either way, he takes the initiative to stand up and holds a hand out for you to take so he can tug you to your feet too. You get up with a little hop.

It’s… devastatingly cute.

“Where are we going?” You ask, brushing off your jeans before shoving your hands into the jacket’s pockets. He’s already on the retreat, walking backwards towards the door that took you up here.

“To get food,” he tells you, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “That party was dead, anyway.”

It doesn’t cross his mind again until your twenty-first birthday.

He’s not your soulmate. He couldn’t be. The thought he had on the roof that autumnal night was little more than a passing fantasy; besides, he doesn’t have a thing for you. He doesn’t want to kiss you, or date you, or have you be his soulmate. The reason you work so well together is because you’re just friends; he thinks you’d drive each other crazy if things ever went romantic between you. You bicker with him for sport. He drowns away hours at a time with his headphones clamped over his ears and forgets to answer your texts. It would be a nightmare.

Not that he’s ever thought about all that. Not actively, or even passively. Not when he should be listening to college lectures instead, for example. Not awake, nor in his dreams. He hasn’t. Not once.

He swears.

“You can save it ‘til tomorrow, if you want.”

Vernon bounces his leg nervously, fidgeting with the edge of your comforter as you sit on the floor in front of him, styling your hair for your party. He arrived half an hour ago while you were still waltzing around in your bathrobe, holding a small, neatly wrapped box in both of his hands. It’s several degrees too warm in your bedroom. He feels a bead of sweat roll down his back as you grumble what seems to be a threat at a strand that won’t cooperate. Thankfully, you don’t seem to notice his discomfort. (If you do, he’s grateful that you don’t say anything.)

“But it’s my birthday today,” you pouted, taking the box from him. “Let me finish getting ready, then I’ll open it. Come on.”

His wrist still aches with the pressure you held onto him with as you dragged him up the stairs. Your parents are away for the weekend and the house is all yours, so there’s a speaker blasting your favourite playlist full volume on your nightstand and there’s nobody to tell you to turn it down. He flits his attention between his phone and watching you, but he can’t fully concentrate on either; he’s too nervous that maybe you won’t like his gift, and he’s never been the type to splash out on birthday presents before but this… well, it burned a hole in his wallet, that’s for sure.

“Okay. Wait here,” you tell him as you push up off the floor, limping on the leg that had started to fall asleep thanks to the way you were sitting.

“All right,” he says back. As if he’d go anywhere, anyway.

You grab a hanger from inside your closet and scurry off down the hall to the bathroom. For the first time, Vernon feels like he can actually breathe. He drops his phone onto the comforter between his crossed legs and cradles his head in his hands, telling himself that he needs to get it together. You’ve never not liked anything he’s given you, and you’ve known him now for more birthdays than you haven’t.

Your friends said you’d love it. So did your mother, with a sparkle in her eye as she held it delicately in her fingers. He has nothing to worry about. It’s only you.

And yet—

“You’ll be honest if it looks bad?” You call from the other side of the door, interrupting how his lips move wordlessly in an endless mantra of self-reassurances.

Vernon snaps his head up and he clears his throat, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. “Aren’t I always?” He answers.

You click your tongue, evidently disagreeing, but you pull the handle and take a step into the room anyway. When you see him, he looks exactly as he did when you left, no trace of his anxieties anywhere to be seen on his face or otherwise.

When he sees you, he feels like the world could end any moment and he’d be okay with that.

His mouth runs dry and his eyes seem to be stuck open, unblinking, fixated on you in your all black outfit as you stand still as a statue with your hands behind your back. You cough quietly, waiting for some kind of a response other than a dumb stare, but it doesn’t come.

Eight seconds later… still nothing.

“Do you hate it?” you fret, because Vernon is a very good hype-man and you’ve never known him struggle to find something positive to say. “All right, uh— okay—”

“No!” He rushes, almost shouting in his urgency to assure you that that’s not the case at all. He scrambles up to his feet, taking a breath, and pushes a hand through his hair. He’s been growing it out lately, and he kind of hates how his fingers catch on a tangle even though he brushed it meticulously before he left his apartment. You keep telling him it looks good, though, so he hasn’t been to get it cut. “God, no. I’m sorry. You look amazing.”

It doesn’t sound like much to the untrained ear, but the warmth of his compliments comes less in the words he says and more in the sincerity he says them with. Your face softens, and Vernon can see the way the thoughts of changing into something else fizzle out behind your eyes. He takes a backwards step to try and tempt you further into your own bedroom, and you move in tandem with him, closing that space and coming better into the light.

“Wow,” he says, swallowing hard and looking you up and down. “I-… wow.”

It’s your turn to clam up, now. You look down at the floor, kicking at the carpet with your toes. “Shut up,” you say. “I’m not...”

“Yes, you are,” he protests, leaving no room for argument as he crosses his arms over his chest. “I don’t know who you’re trying to impress but… yeah, it’s gonna work.”

You walk past him with a scoff, barging against his shoulder on your way; he dramatically staggers to the side, rubbing at the impact site, laughing. When he faces you again, you’ve picked the gift up from the end of your bed and are moving to sit on the mattress yourself. Your eyes flicker between Vernon and the empty space in front of you. He takes the hint, settling back down with one foot tucked beneath him, the other still planted on your rug.

His heart shoots back up into his throat and he stares down at the box, licking over his lips and frowning at how dry they feel. He glances away, lifting a hand to his mouth, running his fingertips over his lips. What would they feel like pressed against yours? He thinks, and then he cringes again.

You misread his reaction and hesitate with your finger pressed underneath a strip of tape, tilting your head at him. “What’s going to jump out at me when I open this?”

“Nothing,” he says, rolling his eyes at you. “What do you take me for?”

“The kind of guy who puts glitter in birthday cards because he thinks it’s funny,” you retort, earning a click of his tongue.

“That was one time!”

“One time too many.”

“I swear,” he laughs, tight shoulders easing, both hands falling to his lap. “No sparkles, no loud noises, nothing jumpy. Cross my heart.“

You eye him a little suspiciously but eventually tug your finger beneath the wrapping and make the first rip in the paper, allowing you to tear into the gift after keeping Vernon on edge for almost an hour and a half. You peel it away and it falls to the bedsheets, in your hands now a small, square box not too dissimilar a shade to your comforter. You look from it, to him, and he thinks you notice how his cheeks are a little darker than they were before.

He nods at you once and you slowly pull it open. On a plush, velvety bedding sits an elegant, dainty bracelet. A small gemstone is set in the metal of the bar in the middle of the chain. You skim a thumb over it, your breath held.

“Vernon,” you murmur, tearing your eyes away from the bracelet to look at him. Now, even the tips of his ears have grown flushed, but you’re kind enough not to comment on it to avoid spoiling the moment you’re in. “This is…”

“The lady in the store said it was your birthstone,” he says, twiddling his thumbs. “I mean… I’m really just taking her word for it, ‘cause they all look the same to me, but—”

He’s interrupted as all of your weight topples against him, arms thrown around his neck in a hug. He hesitates a moment before he wraps his own around your waist, drops his head to your shoulder and he smiles wider than he thinks he ever has. “Happy Birthday,” he says, dragging his thumb up and down over your hip.

“Silly,” you scold him playfully, still pressing wholly against him and showing no signs of moving. Your voice sounds thick, a little like you’re tearing up, so Vernon squeezes you tighter.

“I know you are,” he chuckles. “But what am I?”

You swallow hard, finally now pulling away from the hug but sitting entirely too close for comfort, one knee pressing into the outside of his thigh.

Your surprise attack has left him dishevelled. With a quiet apology, your fingers innocently try to smooth everything back into place, but Vernon doesn’t hear you say you’re sorry. His pulse, thundering in his ears, drowns it out while also skipping a beat with each little touch. You’re not looking into his eyes as you shyly put him back to rights, too busy working to tame his — at the best of times — unruly hair.

He’s looking into yours though, and he can’t stop.

Your eyes, which dart all over to find strands out of place, so your hands can move them to where they ought to sit and lay them down flat. Your eyes, that drop down the length of his throat as you realign the neck of his t-shirt over his broad shoulders.

Your eyes: the ones crinkled at the corners as you pick the bracelet back up from your bed and admire it under your bedroom light. Your eyes, landing on his, finally, in a silent plea for help.

“The best?” you answer, now, extending your wrist to ask him to put it on you. He takes the chain from your fingers and unclasps it, slipping it beneath your hand and holding it in place.

“I know you are,” he says again, but it’s quieter now as he concentrates on trying to reconnect the two pieces. “But what am I?”

When he successfully fastens your gift onto your arm, he looks up to see your watery eyes still staring down at it. He decides this is the time to reveal part two of the surprise. Pulling up the sleeve of his t-shirt, he reveals his own wrist to you, and you now see there’s a matching chain hanging off it. A little stone set in the metal. His stone, presumably. You choke out a laugh around your tears, shaking your head.

“You got us friendship bracelets,” you giggle, holding your hand next to his and admiring them together. Your skin touches and he feels butterflies erupt in his stomach, which he hasn’t felt around you since…

He nods, breathing a chuckle too. “Yeah,” he says. His heart is pounding. “I guess I did. Is… that okay?”

“I love them,” you insist, leaning forward to affectionately press your lips to his cheek. “Thank you. It’s perfect.”

Your doorbell sounds downstairs and Vernon’s words die in his throat. Maybe that’s for the best, though; he’s got so much nervous energy rising up inside him and he’s scared it might accidentally force up something he’ll regret saying. You spring off the bed again, fussing in the mirror, and he watches you rush out the bedroom warbling about how you’re not ready for anyone to be here yet. It’s too early. What’s going on? Who is it?

He shifts his legs so both his feet are planted on the floor, letting out a breath he doesn’t remember sucking in.

I love them. Thank you, you said.

It’s perfect.

He groans when he stands up, too, tugging his sleeve back down as he starts to follow after you.

“I know you are,” he mumbles under his breath, hearing your relieved laughter at it just being the FedEx man on your doorstep. It makes him feel warm. Everywhere. “But what am I?”

Five hours later, Vernon is seeing double.

He has Seungkwan’s hands massaging the tops of his shoulders and there are two Juns sitting across from him at your dining table. He remembers feeling fine around 9pm, distinctly: like nothing he drank was having any kind of effect on him. Like he could walk home on his hands — like he was invincible. Now, after spending exactly five minutes out in the fresh air, he’s blinking four times for every breath he takes and his friends’ voices keep phasing in and out of focus.

“But what if they’re not?” Vernon stresses for the eighth time, fingers clumsily peeling at the label on his bottle.

“And what if they are?” Jun tries. Again. Also, for the eighth time, because apparently when Vernon gets tipsy, his skull gets really really thick and nothing in the world can penetrate it. “You’ll never know if you don’t try.”

Vernon shakes his head, sitting back so heavily that his chair tips and he sends Seungkwan stumbling into the wall behind them. His friend gives up trying to rub the stupid out of him and settles into the chair at Vernon’s side instead.

“I don’t know-…”

“If you’re about to say you don’t know what you’ll do if it isn’t them, I’m putting you in an Uber and sending you home.” Seungkwan claps his hand down onto Vernon’s knee for good measure. “It’s not even been a day.”

Vernon groans, threading his fingers into his hair and tipping his head back. “It hasn’t, though,” he whines. “What if it’s been like this since… and I just kept ignoring…”

Jun and Seungkwan exchange a look. An exhausted one. They both know Vernon turns into a complete baby when he’s had a drink and can just about manage a trip to the bathroom without somebody holding his hand, but neither of them have seen him like this before. Neither of them want to see him like this ever again.

Hell, neither of them want to be dealing with him like this right now.

“You’ll never know if you don’t try,” Jun’s (remarkably) calm voice repeats as he pushes up from his seat and glances towards the doorway. His ears lock onto a voice just beyond it, and in an instant, the older man recognises his chance at an exit. He casts an apologetic glance at Seungkwan, who has resorted to rubbing Vernon’s earlobes to try and get him to stop stressing, and he dips out before either of them can argue.

On his way, though, he throws in a sly little remark. One that raises Vernon’s– and Seungkwan’s– blood pressure to a level that would get them prescribed a week of strict bed rest.

“Besides – everyone can see the two of you were practically made for each other.”

Vernon whips around to face Seungkwan with shock written into every line of his face. It paints perfect full-signal WiFi creases on his forehead; it makes his jaw hang loose.

“I– what?” Vernon splutters, shooting a hand to the back of his head. Seungkwan hasn’t taken his eyes off the doorway since Jun slipped through it. Vernon doesn’t notice the fact that his older friend’s full genetic line is currently being cursed out. “What does he mean?”

“You don’t have to do anything tonight,” Seungkwan tries, now acutely aware of the fact that Jun has just given Vernon a nudge he should never have. There’s a fine line between bolstering a friend and straight-up causing chaos. This could get messy. Seungkwan doesn’t like messy.

But… It's too late.

Before Seungkwan can wrangle him back into his seat, Vernon has broken away from the table and is on the hunt for you. Seungkwan follows behind, doing his best to summon Vernon back, but he can’t. He’s on a mission now. And maybe that mission involves giving in to the thing that eats away at his brain when he should be waist-deep in music theory assignments. Maybe that mission is to finally, after two years, know what it feels like to kiss you. He’s going to find you, so help him God. He has to.

And yes. He does. He finds you, eventually. As soon as he reaches the top of the staircase, there you are.

Being pressed into the wood of your bedroom door, wrapped up in the arms of some pretentious looking art student in an oversized button-down and baggy, ripped jeans. Your mouth is covered by theirs, your fingers are threaded through those glossy fucking locks, both of you are laughing breathlessly as you drop one hand and it fumbles blindly to reach for the doorknob.

Vernon spins away, turning his back as he hears the door click. At this exact moment, Seungkwan comes stumbling up the stairs too and plants his forehead into Vernon’s sternum.

But his good friend’s skull is not the only thing Vernon is struck with, not the only thing knocking the wind out of him.

Simultaneously, he’s swept up with the sobering realisations that either this guy is your soulmate, or you’re not the same person you were when you were nineteen.

It’s eleven o’clock and two years later when he hears your secret knock on his apartment door.

Maybe it’s luck. Maybe it’s fate. He only took his noise cancelling headphones off a few minutes ago before he washed up and settled into bed; his head has hardly even had time to make a dent in the pillows. But whichever force is at play, the thing that matters is that he hears you and he knows it’s you, straight away. He doesn’t remember how it started, exactly. He thinks it might have been while he was in his exam-season hermit stage in his first year of university and refused to come to the door unless it was something important.

You’ve been knocking the same way for years now though, and he slides out of bed with creased brows at how desperate your fist sounds as it pounds against the wood. He pulls on an old t-shirt and perhaps the loosest fitting pair of shorts anyone’s ever owned, at least making himself decent before he answers. He’s still tying the drawstring when he gets to the door.

When he looks through the peep-hole to make sure he’s right, you’re drying your eyes on the back of your sweatshirt sleeve. You’re shivering quite violently, and you’ve got a bag on your shoulder that’s weighing you down on one side. Vernon’s heart sinks. He unbolts the door, pulling it open just as you lift your hand to knock again; your knuckles punch the air between you as your eyes land on him, and your bottom lip wobbles in despair.

You fall into his chest with a sob. Tears start to soak their way through his shirt until it clings to the skin underneath.

“Hey,” he soothes you, locking his arms so tight around you that there’s a strong chance they’re the only thing holding you upright.

“I didn’t— know where else to go—” you choke out, your arm trapped between your chest and his as he rests his head on top of yours and pats your back softly. “I’m s-”

“Don’t you dare,” he murmurs, tilting his chin down to press a soft kiss to the top of your head. “It’s okay. I’m here. You can always come to me.”

He holds you until your shakes start to subside, trying to talk you through whatever this is with soft reassurances and gentle shushing sounds. When you pull back from him, Vernon guides you into his apartment, flicking on the lamp in his living room so he can see to settle you down on his couch. He throws a blanket over your legs before he sits down himself, pulling your hand into his lap and holding it between both of his own, his thumb moving absently over your knuckles. You’re still crying, but when you shuffle against the seat to be a little more comfortable and finally turn to face him, he finds his voice long enough to ask you what happened.

“He kissed— kissed someone else,” you tell him, sniffling and shaking your head.

His blood reaches boiling point in what must be record time and he knows he accidentally starts to grip your hand tighter, but he can’t stop.

“He what?”

Vernon knows this guy wasn’t your soulmate. You told him, a few days after your birthday. You said everything was still black and white when you pulled back from the first of — what you spared no detail in explaining was — many, many, many kisses with him that evening. But you didn’t care. Not then, and not for the whole time you’ve been together.

He asked you about it once. About four months in (when he figured things were starting to get serious), late at night, if it bothered you. Whether you were going to keep seeing him. If you still thought about finding your soulmate. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget what your replying message said.

I mean, sure, I’m curious. But maybe I don’t need to see in colour. I think being in love is enough :)

So… you were in love.

With someone who wasn’t him.

He didn’t speak to anyone — not even you — for two whole days after that. He felt like he’d gone ten rounds with a peak-form George Foreman. He felt like he’d never be able to get rid of the pit that had developed in the depths of his gut. He couldn’t sleep, he could barely eat, he couldn’t focus: it was the worst he’d ever felt. And, well… Vernon knew it was immature. He knew he was acting like a child. If he could’ve shaken it off, the way he’s always done with so many of the things in his life that have bothered him, he’d have loved to. But he couldn’t.

Besides. Only about four people noticed his silence, anyway. You weren’t one of them; your boyfriend was keeping you plenty busy.

“He went to a club and got completely wasted and he— he—” you say, squeezing his hand even tighter than he’s holding yours. “But-… he says he-…” Hiccup. “Everything. Straight away — his…”

You don’t need to say it out loud; if anything, he’s a little disgusted with himself that he didn’t figure this out sooner. “His soulmate,” Vernon ruefully finishes for you. He groans the words out, feeling rotten to his core. “I’m so sorry…”

Your shoulders start to shake and he wastes no time in pulling you sideways against him, both his arms locked around you again, just like before.

“It’s so stupid,” you cry, laughing emptily. His stomach turns; he hates this. Your anguish is an assault on his eardrums, especially when he’s got you so close, but he tries so hard not to flinch, not to move away. You need him, no matter how agonised it makes him feel. “I knew he wasn’t mine, but I thought-…”

Your voice fades away to nothing. You shake your head.

“You thought he was happy the same way you were,” he finishes again. You just nod, sobbing harder. “That's not—… stop saying the way you feel is stupid.”

Vernon doesn’t understand how that loser could ever not have been happy with you. How could he dream about going out in search of something more? Hell, Vernon doesn’t think there’s a soul alive better than you — how could anyone stand to just throw you away?

He wonders briefly if you can hear his heartbeat, thundering in his chest with the rage he feels all the way into his bones. You’ve always told him that you admire how chilled out, how collected he is, but Vernon has never felt less calm in his entire life. It’s only as he acknowledges that he has no right to feel like this, that he takes a few deep breaths in an attempt to bring his fever down. You mimic him, trying to do the same, and by the time his pulse starts to settle, you’re back to just sniffling against his shoulder.

“Stay the night here,” he tells you. It isn’t a suggestion, or really even a request. It’s an order. There’s no room for negotiation. “We’ll go get your things in the morning. I’ll be right there with you.”

You open your mouth to speak, but Vernon gets there before you do. Before you can protest the offers he’s made. Before you can ask him if he’s sure. He knows you, a little too well: he knows these are the words that are going to come out of your mouth next. “I’m with you, okay? Always.”

You sit back from him with a quiet chuckle, wiping your eyes again on your damp sleeve. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you,” you murmur. “You’re the best— the best thing that ever happened to me.”

He just rolls his eyes at you and shakes his head, standing up from the couch. (I know you are, he thinks. This isn’t the time for jokes, though.) He wishes you knew what you mean to him; how, in his eyes, you deserve the world, presented to you on a shining silver platter. Wishes you knew that he’d give it to you if thought he could carry it.

“Go wash up,” he says, ignoring the ache in his chest at the way your watery lashes flutter when you look up at him. “I’ll find you something to sleep in.”

He locates a spare toothbrush from a travelling kit he’s never used and sets a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants on the heated towel rail, leaving you alone in the bathroom to go about your business. You emerge some fifteen minutes later to find Vernon perched on the edge of his bed, scrolling through an app on his phone. He can’t help but swallow at the way his clothes fit you. How the steam from your shower clings to your skin, casts a heavenly haze around you. He hopes it isn’t obvious. This is about more than his dumb little crush.

“Were you asleep?” You ask him, nodding towards his comforter, still pushed back on one side. He turns to glance over his shoulder, following the line of your sight, before he looks back at you and shakes his head.

“Not even close,” he says. “I’d just got into bed when you got here.”

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth and nod. Vernon doesn't think you look totally convinced, but he can’t force you to believe him, even if it is the truth.

It’s unspoken but accepted that you'll sleep in the bed with him; he’s never let you stay on his couch when you spend the night, and you never agree to displacing him even though he always tries to insist he doesn’t mind. You’ve been friends for enough time now that it’ll never be weird to crawl beneath the sheets with him, anyway. At first, he didn’t really like sharing (he’s a bit… particular with how he sleeps, after all), but he got used to your weight on the mattress beside him quite quickly and makes a point to say he always sleeps better with you.

He hasn’t curled up next to you for the night in over two years. It’s awful, that that’s what he thinks about now as he turns off the lights and you settle down, shuffling under the comforter until he slides in next to you in the dark and you can lay your head on his chest. He knows it’s selfish. He thinks it probably makes him a bad person, too.

“Do you think—” you start to say, cut off by a long, vocal yawn. Your breath feels so warm through his t-shirt. “If you fall out of love with them… do the colours go away?”

With his eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling he can’t even see, Vernon feels his heart shatter beneath the soft cushion of your cheek. He’s suddenly grateful he’s still fully clothed, as if the cotton barrier is the only thing stopping you from getting scratched by the splinters beneath his skin. He wonders if you hear it. It would be an easier explanation for why he doesn’t say anything than whatever his mouth could come up with, that’s for sure.

“I don’t know,” he says after a few seconds too long. The arm wrapped around your shoulders slips down to your waist and he squeezes you. Briefly, he wonders if it can force your broken pieces back together.

Vernon knows he would never do this to you. He’d never hurt you this way. Out of everyone he’s ever met, he thinks you’re the sweetest, the kindest, the most thoughtful of them all. The last person he’d ever wish a heartbreak upon. He even used to joke that he’d go to war with anyone who dared to try.

But now he’s seeing it happen? He feels as if he really could.

“I just hope you never have to find out,” he follows up, blinking back the thoughts that start to bubble away as your breaths slow down.

He wrapped a band-aid around your finger when you got a papercut once and you asked him, then, if he would kiss it better.

When you bumped your head in the playground, the same.

He’d kiss it all better now too, if he could. He’d show you how you deserve to be loved.

And he doesn’t just think it, anymore; Vernon knows that this makes him a terrible person.

“I hope you don’t, either,” you mumble back. “... and I hope we find them soon.”

He’s so proud of you.

Okay, it never took much. He’s been proud of you for every good grade you’ve ever achieved, every doctor's appointment you booked for yourself, every trip to the dentist you stressed over. He’s been proud of you for finishing projects you were struggling with. Proud of you for learning new recipes. For every milestone, personal or professional, it’s the first thing he makes sure to say.

[ hey, look at u go!!! proud of u :) ]

Now? He’s seen you crawl from rock bottom to the top of the world. It hasn’t been easy. There have been hurdles and barriers and sometimes, sixty foot high walls you’ve had to climb up and over, but you’ve done it. You’re thriving. Every time he looks at you, these days, if you’re not wearing a smile there are at least traces of one in your eyes, on your face, in your voice. Happiness suits you, and he’s so, so proud of you for getting here.

He knows you’re doing better, because between Christmas and New Year, you asked him if he wanted to come to a party with you. At first, he wasn’t sure; the holidays left his wallet feeling a little light and he’s been on a really good streak of not drinking anything lately, but when you promised that you’d stay sober too, he kind of couldn’t say no.

[ i just wanna see in the new year with my favourite person ever <3 ]

[ ha. flattery will get u everywhere ]

So here he finds himself, out in the backyard of somebody he’s never met, a can of Coke in one hand and your gloved fingers holding tightly onto the other. You dragged him outside at five minutes to midnight and — though he doesn’t know why — you decided you didn’t want to let go. Vernon certainly wasn’t going to be the one to make you. Your warmth down his left side is settling the slight unease he’s felt all evening while also making him feel tipsier than he’s ever been under the influence of any amount of soju; he thinks maybe this should scare him, but he’s just… so glad he came.

With sixty seconds until the clock strikes twelve, somebody stands up on top of the picnic table in the yard and starts to try and coordinate a countdown. With forty-five, Vernon squeezes your hand, butterflies where his stomach ought to be. With thirty, he takes a long drain of his drink, finishing it as if it’ll give him some courage, maybe, or… he doesn’t know. Zero sugar, zero caffeine — there’s no logic behind his process, just a lot of bubbles and artificially sweetened syrup. All the same, he crushes the can against his thigh and slips it into his pocket to throw away later. That alone relieves a bit of his adrenaline.

Not enough, but some.

With ten seconds remaining, the first shout drowns out the white noise in his ears, the chaos of his thoughts. 10. He joins them. So do you. 9. 8. Your voice is the loudest, the most excited sounding. You want this year to be over. You want the rest of your life to begin.

7. 6. 5.

The crackers are set. Flames dance at the end of the garden on fire lighters, ready to send rockets shooting into the sky.

Some people here are going to see them as they truly are. Brilliant and vibrant and colourful against the black canvas of the midnight sky. Vernon won’t. Neither will you. But what was it you said to him once?

4. 3.

Maybe I don’t need to see in colour.

For the first time, he thinks he agrees. The feeling of loving you, even if he never knows green from red, blue from orange? He doesn’t care. He has you. He loves you. That’s enough.

Happy New Year.

As if dawn has broken early, the world becomes impossibly bright, pyrotechnics bursting not only over your own heads but everywhere, as far as his eyes can see. After the first few, he permits himself a glance over at your face: there are tears running down it, and his heart stutters, but then he hears you laugh. Brightly, wetly, more resonant than any of the booms and crackles and cheers he can feel all the way down to his toes.

For whatever reason, Vernon starts laughing with you.

You pull him closer into a bone-crushing hug and blink your damp lashes against the side of his neck. “Thank you for being here with me,” you say to him, practically shouting to be heard. “I love you so much.”

“I’m always gonna be with you,” he says as you pull back a little. Your arms are still around him. The chain of the bracelet he bought you all those years ago is bitterly cold against the back of his neck. He can’t feel his fingers anymore, all he knows is that they’re resting on the curve of your spine. He thinks he can see something in the way you look at him, so softly and tenderly and yet, in the twitch of your brow…

Like you’re searching for something that might not be there.

He knows his gaze moves in a perfect triangle — from your left eye, to your slightly parted, wind-chapped lips, to your right. He knows he stops breathing. He swears you do, too. Something builds — a spark catches, an energy festers, egged on by the curious murmurs of the people around you.

You could do it, his brain tells him.

So what if he’s a few minutes late for it to be traditional? Does it really matter?

But he’s reminded, again, this time with a whizz and a boom and a crackle, that you aren’t his to have this way. His storybook moment fizzles out, the final firework bursting into sparkles overhead. He sees every one of your perfect features brighten in wonder as you tilt your head back to look up at it. Sees it beautifully reflected in your glassy eyes. He has about enough time to commit the image to memory before you clear your throat and finally step away from him, losing all touch for the first time since you came outside.

One of your friends comes and pulls you into an embrace, before passing you along to someone else, and then someone else again. He loses you in the crowd that rushes to get back in the warm, but he makes no effort to move with them. He just stays out in the dark for a while with his own thoughts for company, shoving his frigid hands into the pockets of his jeans.

He’s happy, though. It’s like you said.

Being in love is enough.

“There’s just one more thing,” you say as the waitress returns with your bank card and a receipt. Vernon slides you a look as he stands, picking up his jacket from the back of the chair he’s been sitting in.

He shakes his head at you. “Whatever it is, it better not be edible,” he laughs. “I think this is the most full I’ve ever been.”

In other words, you’ve done enough already. Stop spending money on me. Please. Thankfully, your final surprise is in-keeping with his unspoken rule.

His birthday rolled around way too quickly. The start of the year has been so chaotically busy; you swear, you’ve hardly seen him since he dropped you off home after the party. You moved out of your parents’ house for the second time a few weeks ago and settling in, unpacking boxes, sorting through clothes and belongings and trinkets has taken you much longer than you care to admit. You’ve been busy at work, too. So has he. Your social calendars have barely lined up at all.

But you were determined to make plenty of time for him on his birthday.

To Vernon, this has always just been another day. He’s never cared too much about big celebrations: as long as he can spend some time with people he cares about, he’s happy, and this year he’s managed exactly that. He saw his family this morning, had some friends drop by his apartment later in the day, and now, he’s with you.

You’ve never been great at the laid-back approach, though. Not with him. How could you be, when he does so much for you, always without even batting an eye? When he deserves to be doted on, and adored, and thoroughly spoiled? It’s the same every year. You make a fuss, he playfully scolds you for it; you and he are creatures of habit. It’ll probably never change.

This year, you invited him to your new place to open the gifts you’d bought him: the new speaker he kept saying he couldn’t justify buying, a record he looked at in the store a few months ago but never bought, a sweatshirt to replace the one you stole off him on New Years Eve. Some candies he likes. Then, after he finally stopped pouting and sighing that you really didn’t need to go to all this effort, you took him out for dinner, making a reservation for two at his favourite restaurant.

The pouting continued.

Only up until your appetisers came out, though. The moment your food was placed down in front of you, his eyes doubled in size and his lips became a little too busy to stay pursed. Your own dinner almost went cold with how fondly you sat and watched him. This year, you even spared Vernon the embarrassment of having the restaurant staff sing at the side of your table.

All right, you have an ulterior motive, but… it’s the thought that counts, right?

He holds the door open for you now as you thank the waitress who served you one last time and without him lowering his arm, you step into place beneath it. Tucked up into Vernon’s side, you’re as happy as you’ve ever been. Nervous, too, but… you have a good feeling.

“Where to?” He asks as you fall into step together.

“This way.”

You emerge from the shelter of the canopy outside the restaurant’s front door and immediately feel the cool tickle of a snowflake landing on your cheek. They started to fall while you were eating and Vernon couldn’t stop watching through the window, small specks that grew over the hour into big clumps that tumbled towards the ground. He’s always loved the snow, and there’s no real destination for this gift, anyway. You guide him to the left and watch as peace takes its rightful home on his beautiful features.

“We’ve walked in a perfect square three times now,” Vernon says after a little while of meandering about in the dark, making comfortable small talk and laughing as the champagne bubbles in your stomachs continue to fizz away. “Where are we supposed to be going?”

You wondered how long it was going to take him to notice, or even if he was going to realise at all. Looking up and down the street you’re on, you stop in your tracks, standing beneath the same flickering street lamp that you’ve passed twice already. Your footprints trail both behind and in front of you, neither quite covered yet by the snowfall. You break into a laugh when you notice that the convenience store on your left has closed since the last time you came down this road.

“I can get a map open, if…” Vernon starts, reaching into his pocket. You stop him, stepping out from under his arm and wrapping your hand around his wrist instead.

“I might’ve told a little white lie,” you confess,

He halts with his phone only half pulled out, pushing it into his hip for fear of it falling if either of you let go. “What do you mean?” He asks.

You know he’s probably thinking back to your earlier conversations, trying to figure out which part exactly is the mistruth you’re now admitting to. But whether he gets there on his own or not, he waits for you to answer.

“I had it with me this whole time,” you explain, readjusting your hold on his covered forearm. His eyes dart downwards, looking at the site of contact, but he quickly lifts them back up to your face. “I was just… waiting for… ”

“What are you talking about?” Vernon asks.

“Close your eyes.”

You know.

Unfortunately for your best friend, as hush-hush as he’s managed to be all this time, the same can’t be said for the other person he entrusts all his secrets to. A few weeks ago, when you’d called Seungkwan to coordinate timings for Vernon’s birthday plans, he’d accidentally let something slip. It was your suggestion of taking Vernon to dinner that did the trick.

“Oh, he’s going to love that,” Seungkwan had gushed. You could hear the breadth of his smile down the phone and felt yourself growing hot at the compliment.

“You really think so?”

“Pfft. You could take him to the Eiffel Tower or to a drive-through KFC, and he’d still have hearts in his eyes – because it’s you.”

Of course, he attempted to do some damage control immediately after. Make out that he meant it in strictly platonic terms. But once the idea planted itself in your head, it sort of… made sense. You mulled it over for a couple of days but when you finally asked Seungkwan, deathly serious, if he really thought you stood a chance with Vernon?

He practically screamed ‘yes’ down the phone.

“The last time you asked me to do this, you killed me at laser-tag,” Vernon says, narrowing his eyes. He surely doesn’t think you’re hiding a plastic gun underneath the coat he literally just watched you don, but he doesn’t do as you ask and you suck your front teeth at him.

“Luckily for you, I left all my weapons at home,” you counter. “Come on, please. Just… trust me.”

“Said that last time, too,” he snickers. But, to his merit, he finally does it. He takes in a breath and follows your instruction. “I swear to God…”

Selfishly, you take a moment to bask in how handsome he really is. His eyes twitch underneath his lids and snowflakes cling to his lashes, moving with them. It’s in his hair, too. On his shoulders. Melting on his cheeks, leaving small wet spots on his face. One lands perfectly on the tip of his nose. You would immortalise this moment, if you could.

It made sense, when you found out, because thinking back? Nobody has ever loved you how Vernon does. He shows it in so many ways – he sends you the songs that he hears and thinks you’ll like, the pretty photographs that he takes when he’s away for work, some variant of a ‘good morning’ text, almost every day. He massages your shoulders, lets you fall asleep on his lap, follows you around like an obedient puppy when you have errands to run just so you don’t have to do them on your own.

He tries, and often fails, to cook you breakfast when you stay over. He brings you coffees, or lunch. He looks at you like you’re the moon and the stars. People have teased for years that you could be psychically connected. That you were cosmically united. That it was fate for Vernon to move into the house down the street from you when you were nine. To be the only other child your age on the block.

Two people, perfect for one another, lives intertwined eternally by fate. Or, in other words…

“Are you…?” He asks, breaking the quiet that has only been filled with your cloud-forming breaths.

“Give me a second,” you breathe. There’s no doubt in your mind.

One.

You lean forward to kiss him softly, free hand settling against the side of his neck. In the February chill, Vernon freezes, no part of his body reacting to you except for his lips. Though they twitch in a gasp, they press back against yours as if he isn’t even thinking about doing it. As if it’s instinctual. As if he was always supposed to kiss you – as if he’s your…

There it all is, when you finally pull away.

Brown eyes, framed by fluttering lashes that untangle from one another to finally see you, too. Brown, you know, because when you asked your mother to tell you about Vernon’s colours when you were younger, that was the only one she told you, saying everything else might change when he got older. Warm, brown eyes. Glistening with every blink, blink, blink of the bulb above you. Pupils slowly dilating, drowning the colours out of view. You see his lids shoot wide as he realises, as he glances left and right, as he takes this new world in for the first time, too.

“I knew it,” you say on a stuttered breath, so overwhelmed you could cry. “My soulmate.”

A brilliant smile threatens to split Vernon’s features in two as he cups your cheeks and pulls you back to him, kissing you again, and again, and again.

“I know you are,” he says against your lips, his bare thumbs pink and cold as they press into your skin. And, before you can kiss him quiet – “but what ‘m I?”

thank u so much for reading, i really hope you enjoyed this. as always, your likes/reblogs/comments and feedback are always deeply appreciated.<3

#vernon fluff #vernon x reader #vernon chwe fluff #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #hansol x reader #hansol fluff #kpop fluff #j writes.#*#so nervous ab posting this. anyway. i wrote this for meeeeeeeeeeeeeeee and my deluded ass is gonna go jump in a hole now GOODBYE <3 #vernon fanfic

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jinkicake · 1 year

Note

HSHDHSHD HI AGAIN I JUST SAW UR CHILDE AND SCARAMOUCHE ARRANGE MARRIAGE POST AND I GO SJGNFNFNFNDNNFNDNG THE WAY U WRITE ARRANGE MARRIAGE TROPES>>>>>>/lh UR WRITTING IS SO GOOD!! I ALWAYS COMEBACK AND RE READ IT EVERYTIME AND I JUST REALIZED U ALSO WRITE FOR OBEY ME?! AND UR WRITING IS THE FIRST FEW ONES I'VE READ AFTER I JOIN THE OM FANDOM TOO?!👀💖💐

Ps. Would u mind if I request a 2nd part for the arrange marriage aus for the first fews chars (esp. Perrio👀) if nit they it's fine <33 thx u for creating such an amazing content!!💖💖

Forced / Arranged Marriage Trope

(pt. ??) Alhaitham, Dottore, Pierro, Zhongli x Reader

fem!reader bc I like the use of ‘wife’

A/N: hi anon!! thank you for being so patient w me and for being so sweet </333 T T i hope you like this~~ if you want me to do part2 for anyone else let me know!! I only did it for zhongli and pierro teehee bc i also wanted to add alhaitham and dottore (i hope that is alright~~)

WC - 3.2k

- yandere!dottore // dottore is his own warning -

NSFW // LIGHT SMUT (pierro+zhongli)

~~~

Alhaitham

“I will be home after sundown, habibti." Alhaitham places a gentle hand on your shoulder after he stands up from his chair at the dining room table. He lowers his head with a slight dip of his neck to place a kiss on the crown of your hair. “Be good today.”

And then he is gone.

Months have passed since your husband began staying late after work. You don’t understand it in the slightest, he hates doing unnecessary tasks. The entire time you’ve known him, courting and beyond, Alhaitham has always spared time in his day for his interests. One day, he even told you that his favorite part of each day was settling down to read. He likes to live a carefree and relaxed lifestyle, so staying late in the Akademiya seems like the complete opposite of that.

Regardless, you bear the weight of your suspicions and ignore it.

You focus on being the docile wife you were advertised as and focus on your housework. In truth, your arranged marriage could not have gone any better. Despite your parents parading you around, you somehow found the most laid-back candidate who suited your needs to a t. Every night you thank the Lesser Lord Kusanali for such a kind husband, who lets you come and go as you please. You would have probably hired a hit on your parents, as opposed to never speaking with them again, if they married you away to a cruel man.

However, housework only keeps you busy for so long and before you know it, it is ten am and you have finished everything that you wanted to do for the day. You could go bother your husband’s old roommate or have a meal with your friend but, you notice that Alhaitham left his lunch today. The neatly prepared and packed lunch is still sitting on the counter where you left it. He must have forgotten to grab it.

With ignorance only Alhaitham could have installed in you, a result of keeping you in the dark for so long, you head toward the Akademiya. However, you regret it once you speak with his co-workers.

“Alhaitham is not here today.”

“Your husband? He didn’t come in this morning,”

“I heard he was heading to Port Ormos after speaking with the Gauhar.”

Through your dejection, you braced a kind smile and thanked them all before heading back home. What could your husband possibly be going to the port for? He’s not a student anymore, there’s no reason for him to be going there.

Unless someone else is there.

You stubbornly try to shake that negative thought out of your head as you walk through the marketplace. As if Alhaitham would commit something of adultery, he doesn’t show interest in anything or anyone.

Perhaps, you will have to speak about this with him when he returns home.

Returning home that night was not something Alhaitham did. In fact, he did not return back to you for two nights and only appeared on the third morning of his disappearance.

To say that you were upset would be an understatement and your husband was able to see it the second he walks in through the door.

“(Y/N), I know I have been gone-”

“Where have you been?” You don’t give him the chance to begin with the sorry apologies as you cross your arms over your chest, you get straight to the point.

“It was for the Akademiya, I cannot discuss the matters with you and you know this.” He sounds sincere enough, there’s a tiredness to his words that you can’t pinpoint. “I wanted to check in with you before I returned.”

“Check in with me?” You scoff and start to look at him as if he had grown three heads. “Check in with me before returning to your mistress?”

“My mistress?” Alhaitham raises a subtle brow and keeps a straight face despite the amusement growing in his chest.

“Why else have you been gone so long? Staying out so late? I’m not a fool and personally, I don’t care about who else you see.” You lie straight through your teeth, lie until you choke. Alhaitham sighs before stepping closer toward you.

“I really cannot share the details of this assignment just yet, you have to believe me, habibti.” He gently cups your shoulders, giving the area a soft squeeze before soothingly running over the planes of your back. “Listen to me when I say that I would never think of betraying you so cruelly.” And, before you have a chance to react, Alhaitham lowers his face to brush his lips against your ear. Vulnerability spills through his every word. “Please do not act so indifferent about the matter of us, I want you to care as freely about me as I do you.”

Smoothly, his hand cups your face and tilts you his way.

“No matter what thoughts you may come up with on your own, trust the logic that I love you.”

Dottore

“The Doctor will return from his mission sometime next week, perhaps during the beginning of the new moon-”

During the message personally delivered from your husband by a trusted subordinate, you can’t help but audibly groan.

“Why must he ruin my entire week with his presence? Did he specifically plan to return on Monday? Why couldn’t he have come back the following Saturday or Sunday?” You place your pen down with great irritation and with it, the notebook you were writing in slams shut. The large Fatui soldier stares down at you, quite flabbergasted by your actions. At the lack of response from your maids, he continues.

“Well, The Doctor wanted to spend some time with you before his next mission-”

“You’re kidding?” This time, you stand up and slam your palms against the strong wooden desk. Hatred and frustration flow through your veins, nearly choking you by your throat. “When you receive word that he is on his way, within a day away from me, then you will come back here and tell me. Understand?” You and your shorter frame could not nearly pose up to the Vanguard standing before you but, given the status of your esteemed husband, you can speak with him and any other solider of your choice however you want.

“Yes, my lady.” He offers a respectful bow before leaving your office and does not flinch under the intensity of your unwavering glare.

“My day is ruined.” You hum and try to calm yourself down by rolling out your shoulders. Within an instant your close friends (the maids assigned to you by your beloved) are by your side, offering you their condolences and support. “We must prepare for the torture that his arrival is ensured to bring. Where are my earplugs?”

Each day that follows, you work alongside other members of the house to prepare the cozy home that your husband chooses to reside in. Cozy is a cute way of describing it, this castle that hides within the mountains is anything but cozy. It’s large and empty but, you rather enjoy all the empty space that provides shelter when you’re hiding from your husband.

In the midst of your breakfast later in the week, you’re interrupted by another announcement.

“My lady, The Doctor will arrive-”

“What do you want?” You scowl and push your plate away, lowering your utensils before standing up from your chair. Now, just like your week and the ones that follow, your meal is ruined too. “I do not care when that wretched vermin will arrive. Tell me when he is here and leave me alone.”

“That is the thing, my lady, he is here early.” As one of the Legionaries beside the previous Vanguard steps to the side, your husband moves in front of you. He stands tall on the other side of the long dining room table and you have half a mind to sprint for the door. “I did not have time to issue the previous warning you asked for.”

“Warning? Is that how you speak of me when I am not around?” Dottore tilts his head slightly before slowly walking around the table. You try not to shake as he corners you, hands braced behind his back. “Oh? Where has your attitude gone? Down the drain with your fight?”

He doesn’t have to remove his mask for you to see the sneer on his face, the anger that is sure to be littering his features.

“Dear,” You nervously greet him, offering a pathetic smile that does little to hide your nerves.

“Sweetheart,” He greets back just as gently but, you can see the tension in his shoulders. “I must confess that I was thinking we would spend time with one another before my next trip to Sumeru but, now I'm not so sure.”

But? You mentally pray and pray to the Tsaritsa that he changes his mind and ditches you altogether, that he leaves you alone again for months on end. Anything would be better than facing his wrath.

“I don’t think we need to see one another for a while.” He waits for you to let out the breath you were holding in, to sigh in relief, before gripping your jaw with his gloved hand. “I think it would only be fair since you’ll now be coming with me to Sumeru. We can spend the entire trip together, side by side. Finally, you’ll be able to see my work up close and not just from your timid frame in the lab doorway.”

You can’t hide the way your lip begins to quiver, eyes filling with tears. That is the last thing you would ever want.

“Aren’t you excited, my wife? You must be since you’re near bursting into tears!” He mocks you until your soul breaks, until the farthest place you could ever be from him is no longer far enough. “If this is how you act when we are apart then, you will never be from my side ever again.”

Pierro

“You are a blessing,” Pierro murmurs lowly as his hands delicately sculpt your sides, gently he presses into your skin with his thick fingers. “a divine creation.” Like this, he worships you. His lips lightly trail between the valley of your breasts as he ascends up your body. “Hundreds of years have passed since I’ve felt this alive.”

Pierro slowly drags his lips up your throat and over your jaw to hover above your lips. His breath fans your chin, teasing you with his close proximity. He laughs when you tilt your chin in an attempt to kiss him, but it fails.

Regardless of how you care for your husband outside of your shared bedroom, you always love him inside of it.

“Please,” Your quiet voice sounds like a melody to the older man and he nearly sighs at the sweet tone. This is all he has ever desired, you wanting and yearning for him. He knows his words will never be enough to get this point across, ever.

With a light hand, the man brushes any lingering strands of your hair out of your face. He stares down at you with lust-filled eyes before cupping your jaw with his large palm. Subtly, Pierro tilts your face upward and meets your lips in a passionate kiss. As he presses his mouth against your own, applying just the correct amount of pressure, his thumb gently strokes your cheek. It’s a sweet kiss, one that leaves you breathless and wanting more.

Before he can catch himself and reel in his self-restraint, Pierro cups your breast. Your arms loop around his neck, digging your fingers into his broad shoulders as he fondles and squeezes at your chest. The constant stimulation only makes you greedier for more and your hips create a mind of their own as you roll slowly upwards against his pelvis.

“My wife,” Pierro groans, pulling away momentarily to catch his breath. His voice sounds shaky as he tries to fight back the overwhelming desire to just take you right now. “enough, before you make me do something I’ll regret.”

The first of the eleven Fatui harbingers thinks he has himself under control finally, that he will be able to continue but then you glance up at him. In your young eyes, mischief shines brighter than the life in his own.

“It’s alright if I don’t regret it, don’t you think?” And then you kiss him once more. You yank roughly on his neck, catching him off guard, and pull him down again.

The growl that leaves your husband is animalistic. His sharp reflexes snap at your wrist, pinning you effectively to the bed without much room to move. The kiss of his lips, once sweet, turns possessive and greedy as he presses you into submission. With little fight, you obediently fall right into his open palms with your lips parting at the slightest jut of his tongue.

Skillful hips roll against your own, Pierro’s hard cock grinds into your clothed cunt and the sensation against your sensitive clit makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. When you start failing to kiss back, Pierro makes his attack. He squeezes your wrists and shoves his tongue into your mouth, swallowing and taking all that you will give him. Your thighs are beginning to burn against the stretch of being spread for his muscular waist but, the pain is dulled over at each slot of his hips.

Your pitiful whimper pulls him from his conquest and Pierro remorsefully separates himself from your lips.

“I need you,” Your whisper does not fall deaf on his ears, Pierro hears every single word. No matter how much you make fun of the older man, poking at his true age, he’s sharpened every one of his skills beyond their years.

“I know, my beloved, I know what you need.” His hands make you sigh out loud as they run up and down your waist, breathy moans leave your lips. “Do you understand the affection that I hold for you? Are you aware of the effect you have on me?” Pierro closely watches your reaction, stares as you keep your eyes closed and don’t so much as flinch at his words. You simply hum and lay like a blessing against his sheets. Now, the older man lowers his lips to your stomach and presses his mouth into your skin. He gently creates a path to the band of your panties with each kiss getting heavier than the last.

“One day, you will understand the true extent of my feelings.”

Zhongli

Lately, you’ve been worried about your husband. Your concerns are nothing new or anything revolutionary but, you can’t speak about it to your friends or others who are unaware of his godly status. To deal with the matter, you sought out the one person you could discuss the matter with, one of the people who know him better than you do.

“I’m worried about Zhongli,” You sit patiently at the stone table, in your husband’s seat as you confess your inner feelings to the cloud retainer.

“Zhongli?” The bird rolls her eyes, tasting the name on her tongue before it clicks. “Morax. What is there to be concerned about? Foolish girl, he adores you.” The cloud retainer raises a judgmental brow at your timidness as she pours you a cup of tea. She sits down with an elegance that makes you feel small in her presence. Still, you proceed.

If any of the adeptus are going to listen to you, it’s her. If there is a single one that you can trust, it is her.

“Isn’t that the problem?” Truthfully, you have been worried about the upcoming and unforeseen future. You’re always worried about it. Not that you will disappear soon but, mortal lives are nothing compared to that of an adeptus. How will he fare when you pass? How can you prepare him for it? “What will happen to him when I inevitably-”

The aged bird cuts you off before you can even finish your sentence.

“Speaking of such circumstances when they are nowhere in the near future will only come back to bite you.” Cloud retainer quietly sips at her drink, leaving a few moments of silence between the two of you before she sighs. “Fully cherish the time you have with him, that is the only piece of advice I can offer you.”

And that is as far as you go with her on the matter, the conversation was over.

Still, in your heart, you weren’t satisfied with the answer.

It continued to bug you even as you tried to ignore it, even as you tried to cherish the time you have with the immortal.

“How are you today, my dear?” Every single day when he returns, Zhongli finds you and presses a delicate kiss on your cheek. It’s a kind gesture that always makes you melt into the palm of his hand.

It also, more often than not, always leads to something else. Something more intimate.

“Would you forgive me if I said that I missed you today,” Zhongli’s low voice fills your senses and clouds your mind, leaving you barely unable to think. Now pressed into the couch with your husband over top of you, protectively holding your thighs over his hips, all you can do is take everything that the god has to give you. “I’m often missing you when you are away.”

His pure confessions make your gut twist in an uncomfortable way.

“Will you be okay when I am no longer here?” You whisper, letting the words spill into his ears as you hide your face in his neck.

Zhongli stops his movements. The gentle, smooth thrusts of his hips come to a standstill as his hands lower from your thighs. He places a palm beside your head and pulls back enough that he can look at you.

“I will never be the same without you.” The raw emotion in his features and the distinct vulnerability in his eyes cause tears to well up in your eyes. “But, I will continue to live. Your memory will keep me alive until we can be reunited again.” His gentle touch comes up to wipe at your tears as his thumbs brush over your cheeks. “I don’t want you to be worried about that just yet, okay, my gem?”

Softly, Zhongli presses his lips against yours and it muffles the sob that leaves your lips.

You tighten the grip that you have on his biceps, digging your fingers into his skin as your lips open for his tongue.

“I love you, I will always love you forever.” He murmurs into your cheek before kissing over your eyelids. Smoothly, his hips pick up a slow pace once more and you gasp loudly. The sound makes your husband laugh, gently shaking as he presses his forehead against your own. “If I had my way, we would have met earlier and you would never part from my side.”

In every touch, he portrays how much he loves you. There is an ‘I love you’ in the press of his fingers against your hips. There is an ‘I love you’ in the skillful roll of your hips and there is an ‘I love you’ in the gentle kiss of his lips.

Yes, Zhongli is sure he will always love you. Even through grief and mourning, he will never forget the feeling of loving you.

#al haitam x reader #dottore x reader #pierro x reader #zhongli x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x y/n #genshin x you #genshin x female reader #alhaitham x reader #dottore x y/n #pierro x y/n #zhongli x you #yandere dottore #alhaitham fluff #pierro smut #zhongli smut #xiaos spicy almond tofu

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craisinsensation1029 · 3 months

Text

Never Forgotten

Kento Nanami

originally posted on AO3! :) wrote this back in July for Nanamin's birthday :3 <3

Fem reader, established relationship, alcohol consumption, vaginal sex, cunnilingus, cream pie, slight breeding kink, very light bondage, Nanami dealing w a shitty day, its like, kinda sweet if u squint a bit, a little praise & degrading

4.6k

MDNI

Nanami looked down at you as you stirred in your sleep, cuddled securely into his side. Your arm was wrapped around his midsection and his was around your shoulder. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, as he reached for the remote to turn the television off.

You two had been dating for nearly ten months now. You hit it off after meeting through a mutual friend for a night out for drinks, and have been happy together since.

You two did have plans to move in together in a few months. Nanami owned a condo, and you still had some time before the lease on your apartment was up. This was the first major relationship either of you had been in, so it admittedly was a huge step, but both of you were prepared to take the plunge.

Until then you shared nights like these where you would come and sleep over. He loved having you over, seeing you move comfortably around the space as if it were your own.

Tonight was a bit different, as it was the night before his birthday. You two hadn’t spent one of his birthdays together yet, so he honestly didn’t know what to expect. Not that he was particularly a a person big on the occasion, seeing the day as just another year closer to retirement, but maybe you would make it different.

You were just that kind of thoughtful person that made everything worth celebrating. Hell, you baked him a cake when he told you he got another employee of the month award. You gasped when he shrugged lazily at the feat and sprinted to the kitchen. He told you it was really no big deal because he had so many, but all you did was narrow your eyes at him and told him he needed to be more excited he was being recognized for such diligent work.

He smiled at the memory as he pressed another kiss to your forehead.

He looked at the time on the clock. 3 minutes to midnight. He was unsure if you were supposed to spontaneously wake up out of your sleep with a song and dance, but there was nothing but silence to surround him when the clock struck midnight.

Your sleeping form was so serene, he wouldn’t dare disturb you. Instead, he repositioned your bodies by unhooking your arms from his waist and wrapping his around yours instead. You stirred again as he let out small sigh mumbling to himself, “Happy birthday to me.” He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

The same way you always fell asleep before Nanami, you always woke up before him. You were already somewhere in the condo when Nanami woke up. He was hopeful this was going to be a birthday to remember.

He went into the master bathroom to brush his teeth and got dressed for work. He never took the day off, because well, the retirement fund needed to be supplemented somehow. He took a look at himself in the mirror. Maybe he should have gotten a haircut a few days before, but no matter.

He walked out into the kitchen where you were sipping tea at the island. “Hey, good morning boo. Coffee’s in your mug.” You always made his coffee in the morning, just the way he liked it, but a wave of disappointment hit him. Was that it?

“Thanks, baby,” he answered, walking toward you to press a kiss to your lips. You kissed back. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. “Sleep well?”

“With you? Always,” you gushed, your soft hand landing on the side of his face. Wasn’t there anything else you wanted to say?

“Oh, good,” he nodded, his voice tight. “Uh, I guess I should get going then.”

“Already?” you pouted. “Do you have an early meeting or something? You didn’t even sit down and drink your coffee yet.” He loved spending mornings with you, drinking your hot beverages together while you entertained him recalling your always too wild and vivid dreams, but he couldn’t act like this wasn’t bothering him.

His girlfriend forgetting his birthday. His heart clenched, but he just tried to remember why he had never made it a big deal in the first place. It was just a day, he would just have to remind himself of that.

“Yeah,” he lied, opting to pour the coffee in the mug into his tumbler. “Email came in about earlier this morning. I wasn’t expecting it either,” he chuckled, but his laugh was strained. He was lying through his teeth, couldn’t you tell?

“Ugh, okay,” you groaned. “I got called into work tomorrow, so I probably won’t be around when you get home. But I’ll cook something for you to eat for dinner.”

Great. Even better. Now he would truly be spending the day alone. He cleared his throat before he spoke again, although he didn’t know what to say. He settled on, “Okay.” He swiftly placed his laptop in the bag before heading toward the door.

“I love you!” you called out behind him.

“Yeah, I love you too,” he said, just loud enough for you to hear as he pulled the door closed behind him.

The day Nanami was having would give A Series of Unfortunate Events a run for fucking money, and he was pissed off.

Not only did his morning start off with a lack of birthday wishes from you, but it was immiedtaely followed by some asshole deciding to go NASCAR speed on the residential street, a large puddle of last night’s rain drenching his slacks.

He stood on the train while a parent’s curious toddler had the gall to ask him if he was still potty training. He knew he couldn’t glare at a child, so he held on the the pole even more tightly as he ignored the kid who decided to ask the question again and again until he and his mother eventually got off at the stop before him.

The morning meeting he lied about turned out to be a very real meeting. If Nanami actually checked his emails that morning, he would have known. So there he was in the office with drenched slacks and fifteen minutes to prepare a presentation that he didn’t give a fuck about. After being able to throw something together, his supervisor thanked him for being so flexible, but informed the team the meeting was actually for next week. “I guess I made an oopsie!” he shrugged. Nanami left the conference room without a word.

The fire alarm went off in the building a few minutes before lunch was going to start. He groaned, reaching for his lunchbox so he could at least warm it up somewhere else, only to realize he was reaching for air. He fucking forgot it at home. He groaned again, knowing not only did he have to take a fuck ton of stairs down from the twenty seventh floor, but he would have to buy lunch from some overpriced, overcrowded shop.

Once he got to the town square, it was already bustling with a bunch of people trying to get food for the lunch hour. He was already too aggravated to deal with that shit. He opted to just get a croissant from his favorite bakery instead. Taking the short walk there, he clenched his fist seeing a white note on the door and the lights off. Walking closer, the note read, Closed for inventory today, see you tomorrow! He absolutely wanted to scream.

With only fifteen minutes left in the lunch hour, he trudged back to the office where the fire alarm had stopped going off, but they advised everyone to take the stairs for safety purposes. Safety his ass, he didn’t have anymore fucks to give, but there was no choice. Hungry, and more then fed up, he trudged up the stairs and threw his head back once he got back to his desk.

His phone went off and he pulled it from his pocket, smiling seeing a text from you. He unlocked it, his face falling upon reading your message. I just left. I made you some chicken alfredo and garlic bread for dinner :) i’ll be back on Saturday! I love you!! ♡

Was that really it? His phone was littered with other birthday wishes that he would get to in time, but that message from you may have actually just made his day worse. Thanks baby, I love you too , he replied anyway. He wanted to throw his phone across the room.

The rest of the day was equally annoying; too many conversations with people that couldn’t take a hint that he didn’t want to talk, emails that were about as useful as white ink on white paper, and hunger still gnawing at his stomach from his lack of lunch.

By time time it was five, his supervisor was sauntering over to his desk. Nanami visibly scowled, but that didn’t deter him at all. “Nanami!” he greeted. He already knew where this was going. Overtime today of all days, fucking great. “I guess I made another oopsie.” His supervisor began to explain how his incompetence was now Nanami’s problem, and an hour later he was seething when he left the office.

The elevators were still deemed unsafe to use, and he trudged down the stairs yet again. He was finally out of work, but there didn’t seem anywhere for him to go. He could have hung out with some other friends, but more than anything he wanted to be with you. He sighed, deciding to get on the train and pop into the bar by the house. Nothing like some greasy food and some alcohol to wash away the day.

He sat at the bar, waiting for the bartender’s attention. “Hey man, can I just see some ID?” Nanami fished his ID out of his wallet, flashing it to the worker. “Oh, happy birthday man! I got to give you some shots on the house!”

“Woo! Birthday boy!” a visibly drunk man next to Nanami whooped, clapping him on the back.

“Thanks,” Nanami muttered as the bartender immediately poured two shots of brown liquid in front of him. He didn’t know what they were, but he didn’t care. He threw them both back in quick succession, the liquid burning his throat all the way down. He scowled at the aftertaste as he pushed the empty shot glasses back toward the bartender.

“Naw, you’ve got to give him something a little smoother,” the man next to him said. He ordered four shots of something Nanami wasn’t famailar with, pushing two his way once the bartender had them all poured, He raised one, motioning for Nanami to do the same. “Happy birthday, man!” He threw it back, and then easily the other. It indeed did go down a lot easier than the other.

Four shots in a matter of less than ten minutes was probably not very wise. He ordered some sweet chili boneless wings and garlic parmesan fries for himself, along with a beer to sip on. He knew he would feel it later for sure, but who cares. He would be alone anyway. He ate the greasy food when it came out, his head already feeling heavy by the time he was done.

He paid his tab when the bartender asked, “You got far to go?”

“No,” he slurred. “I live right up the block.”

“Oh, then one for the road won’t hurt!” He poured Nanami a final shot, some clear liquid. He threw it back instantly. This one was smoother than his choice of dark liquor before. “You’ve got some hot ass waiting for you at home?”

“I wish,” he grumbled. “But thanks.” He bid adieu to the bartender and the man that was sitting next to him as he made the short walk home.

Perhaps he was a bit more fucked up than he realized, because he was absolutely struggling to get the key in the door. He took a breath and rested his forehead against the cool door. What was the rush anyway? Then again, he didn’t wan’t to be standing outside when what he needed was a shower and his bed. He fumbled with the door again, his efforts successful this time and pushed the door open.

He furrowed his brow, seeing a large Happy Birthday banner hung from the wall facing the door in the living room. Streamers and balloons hung from the walls, and he had to rub his eyes to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating.

Then you stepped into view from the kitchen, a large grin spreading across your face. You ran up to him, throwing your arms around his neck in glee. “Sorry, I went to go put the food back into the oven, I thought you were going to be back earlier!” You pulled back slightly to press a kiss against his lips. “Happy birthday!”

He was confused. Or drunk. Or maybe a little bit of both.

He took a small step back, taking in your appearance. You had one of his favorite dresses on, a short, strapless, floral print number that flared at the end with lettuce edges. It was perfectly form fitting, your breasts bouncing at the top as you walked, your figure that he loved accentured, and your ass he adored getting a handful of on display.

“Huh,” he said dumbly.

“Your birthday?” you laughed with a soft shake of your head. “You drunk? Is that why you took so long?”

He was stunned into silence.

“Aw, come on!” you pouted. “You couldn’t have possibly thought I forgot! Maybe my acting was a little too good…” you contemplated, but he couldn’t help but just stare at you, and then back at the decorations littering the space. Even the banner meant so much to him. He knew you couldn’t have possibly put that up without asking for someone’s assistance or using a ladder, both of which you hated doing. But you did it, for him.

He suddenly felt like an idiot for even thinking you could have forgot. For the first time today, a smile genuinely crossed his face. “Thank you, baby.” He pulled you tightly against him, hands immediately grabbing at your ass. Maybe the bartender had a premoniton on his behalf or something, because here you were, hot ass and all.

You playfully swatted his hands away opting to taking his hand in yours. “Come on, don’t you want to at least have dinner?” He was admittedly already full, and eating something else was the only thing occupying his mind now, but he let you pull him toward the kitchen anyway.

He was dumbfounded. The table was set with the good china you just insisted would only be used for important occasions.

He was an important occasion. He felt his heart swell.

Another birthday banner, and more streamers and balloons decorated the space. A small cake decorated with purple icing and sprinkles with Happy Birthday, Kento! scrawled in white frosting sat on the middle of the table. You grabbed some oven mitts and bent over to open the oven. The dress was short enough to see the meat on your ass cheeks, and all he could do was walk over and stand behind you, gripping the flesh. Maybe it was the alcohol, but his cock was already straining against his slacks.

“Kento, let me get this food out,” you giggled. He stepped back to give you some space and he instantly knew what was in the oven; it was one of his favorites, oven roasted lemon garlic chicken with potatoes. You walked over and placed the dish on the table, a bright smile on your face. “Maybe I should have said something earlier, I just wanted to surprise you.”

You strided toward him, your hand caressing the side of his face. He placed his hand over yours, closing his eyes and leaning into your touch. This is what he needed after today. You were what he needed. “I would never forget a day as important as this,” you whispered. “Do you really think I could forget my favorite person’s special day?”

“I was a bit silly for thinking you did,” he admitted, a laugh escaping his lips. “I was having a fucking shit day and thought I was coming home to an empty place.” You frowned, and he hated seeing you frown, especially on his behalf. “But that has nothing to do with you, baby. This is already the best birthday ever.”

You smiled softly, although your brow was still knitted. “Well we can talk about your day while we eat.” Your eyes quickly brightened again. “Oh! And I can give you your gift!”

He wasn’t interested in talking or receiving gifts right now. He never understood the rationale of people in movies and television shows pushing food and silverware off the table to ravish their partners, but it fully made sense to him now. He was only interested in having you bent over the table and rutting into you until you were creaming around his cock and crying out his name.

“That sounds great,” he mumbled, bringing you back to him. “But I’ll be very honest. Let’s get that food back in the oven for a bit. There’s something I need to do first.”

You were lost, but nodded nonetheless. “Oh okay, we can do that! It is your day, after all.” You gathered the dish with the chicken and walked back over to the oven to keep the meal warm. At the same time, Nanami was pushing the plates further up on the table.

You strolled back over to him, and he instantly smashed his lips against yours. One hand was grabbing your ass while the other was on the small of your back. One of your legs instantly rose while your arms wrapped around his neck, making any space between the two of you nonexistent. He felt bad for his breath that must have reeked of liquor, but the feeling faded when your tongue was pushing past his lips and exploring the inside of his mouth.

He gripped the material of your dress tighter, and if he didn’t like it so much he was afraid he would have ripped it off of you with his bare hands. He moaned against your lips as your hands shifted so your manicured nails were running through his undercut. Fuck, he loved when you did that. Your tongue continued to move inside of his mouth, and he moved his against yours. You always tasted just divine, savory and sweet at the same time, and man was he so blessed to be loved by someone as amazing as you.

Your tongue slowly exited his mouth and you began to nip at his bottom lip, eliciting another moan from him. He jerked his hips against you, his erection swelling by the second as his tongue began to explore your mouth. Your mouth was always so inviting and willing for him as your lips parted for him. He closed his eyes, enjoying the pure bliss of the moment. Hard to think he was having the seemingly worst day ever just a few hours ago when he was here now, his hand full of your ass and his tongue shoved deep down your throat surrounded by so many of his favorite things.

His tongue exited, and the kiss became sloppy as your bodies stayed melded together, but he wanted more now. He quickly spun you around and bent you over the kitchen table. He slapped your ass, watching it jiggle in the material of the dress. You mewled, and arched your back more, wiggling it in the air. He slapped it again, letting his hand massage to spot before pushing up the material.

He figured you had a thong on the way your cheeks were out when you bent over when taking the food out of the oven, but no. You weren’t wearing any underwear at all. “Were you expecting something, perhaps?” he asked, letting a finger swipe through your folds. You were already wet, but he knew he could have you soaking in a matter of minutes.

“Something like that,” you answered playfully. “Thought it would come a little later, but now works too.” Oh, you would be coming later too, but Nanami needed his fix now.

“You little slut,” he chuckled, sinking down to his knees behind you. “Acted like you forgot my birthday just to cook my favorite food and wait for me in my favorite dress with no panties on,” he tsked.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” you teased, wiggling your ass for him. “How could I ever make it up to you?”

Nanami just laughed as he brought his hand to your ass, kneading your cheeks again. “I can think of a few ways.” He spread your cheeks to look at what was his before letting his tongue swipe across your center, instantly moaning at your taste. He swiped his tongue through your folds again, letting his eyes close as your familiar taste infiltrated his tastebuds. Your moans were music to his ears as he continue to stroke your center with his tongue.

One hand reached around to circle your clit as his tongue began to push into you. You writhed against his face, and he loved it. His thumb and middle finger slowly stroked your clit as his tongue slowly and shallowly fucked you. “ Fuck, Kento, please,” you whined, arching your back more, giving him more access to your clit.

He always loved when you begged for him, despite how much he would tease you for it. His mouth left you, but his fingers were still working against your clit. “I thought you wanted to make it up to me?”

“I-I do,” you choked out. He could already feel your legs trembling, and you could be coming for him at any moment.

“Then either shut up or use your words,” he grunted, putting his mouth back on you. You moaned again, pushing back on his face while his tongue continued to lap at you. He was achingly hard now, and was pretty sure his dick could drill for diamonds in the mines.

He started to rub your clit more quickly, and you were falling apart. Your legs struggled to stay steady as your moans turned into desperate pants. “Please, need to come,” you begged.

“Oh, look who knows how to talk,” he chuckled, his voice muffled. But he would do just that. He swiped his tongue against you once more, and you cried out as your orgasm had your juices coating his face. He let out a moan of satisfaction at your release and stood quickly. You rose from your position of being bent over the table, to which he chuckled and bent you back over. “I’m not done,” he said, undoing the buckle on his belt.

He pulled the black leather through the loops on his slacks, using it to bind your hands behind your back. “That feel alright?”

“Feels great,” you answered. He could hear the amusement in your voice despite not seeing your face, and couldn’t help but shake his head.

“Naughty little bitch,” he murmured, admiring your exposed ass. “You were just dying to get fucked in this dress, huh? I guess this is a lucky day for you too.” In the blink of an eye, the button on his slacks were undone and his erection sprang free. He pushed down his boxers briefs and entered you quickly, hands positioned securely on your hips.

He groaned as your cunt hugged his cock. It simply didn’t matter how often you two fucked, and your sex life was pretty healthy. The first thrust never failed to make him want to come right on the spot. His pulled his hips back and slowly pushed inside of you, the veins of his cock dragging against your walls. You both let out moans simultenously as his hips developed a steady rhythm. He loved seeing your ass bounce against his hips; even more so now with your arms bound and seeing that all you could do was moan and take him like a good girl.

“Fuck Kento, more, more,” you cried out.

“Shit, okay, baby,” he groaned, wiping the sweat that was forming at his brow. He held onto your hips tightly as he started to slam into you roughly, shaking the table. You let out a yelp that was quickly followed by a moan, and he couldn’t help but bite his lip as he continued to pound into you like his life depended on it.

He could start to feel your pussy spasm around him, and used one hand to slap your ass. “Fuck, you look so good taking my cock like this,” he grunted, his hips still moving quickly. He was determined to give you the fucking that you wanted; the one you deserved for making sure he felt special, loved, and utterly cared for.

“Ah, Ahhh,” you cried out, helpless to do anything except for take the vicious pounding that you asked for. “W-want you to come in me,” you stuttered out against the creaking of the table.

If he weren’t so determined to keep thrusting, he would have stopped, and asked if that was what you really wanted, but fuck it. It was his fucking birthday, and he was going to stuff you like a twinkie. “I’ll fuck a baby into you tonight if that’s what you want,” he panted, continuing his onslaught.

You moaned again, and then he felt the telltale signs of your orgasm washing over you. You were obscenely wet with your juices coating his cock and running down your legs as your pussy violently clenched around him. He fucked you through your orgasm with slower thrusts until the wave of pleasure passed through you.

He undid the belt that kept you bound, and pulled his still hard cock out of you. He quickly hauled you up, spun you around, and sat you on the table. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed another kiss to his lips while he slid inside of you.

You whined at his entry with the sensitivity of your last two orgasms, but clenched around him. He kissed you back sloppily as he rutted his cock into you. He pulled down the dress to expose your breasts and you leaned back slightly so he could slip a nipple into his mouth. He sucked it hashly, letting his teeth bite down gently on the bud.

“Oh fuck Kento, that’s so good.” Your hand was soon coaxing his head in the other direction so he could do the same for the other. He obliged, sucking your other nipple into his mouth and giving it a small bite before letting his tongue trace the area around your areola.

His orgasm was fast approaching and he gripped your chin tightly, squeezing a thigh with the other hand. “Fuck baby,” he grunted. “I’m going to fill this pussy up real good.” You put your hand on his lower back, bringing him closer, and he was done for. He stilled and let out a pant as his seed spurted inside of you, coating your insides white.

He rested his forehead against yours, and you cupped his face with a smile, pressing a soft kiss to his nose with his cock still seated inside of you. “Happy birthday, boo.” You moved to press a kiss to his lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.” Yeah, best birthday ever.

562 notes · View notes

fadingdaggerr · 4 months

Note

hello! i was wondering if you could write a melissa/reader fic where r unknowingly makes mel very nervous/blush, and after a while melissa starts to become very protective of r until melissa is a big blushing mess and just needs to have her girl 🫶 or whatever u want to take from this, big fan of your work!! mwah 🧛🏻‍♀️🦇

amaranthine

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: request above <3 | 2.3k

includes: literally just fluff, tooth rotting fluff, soft!melissa, established but new relationship, light making out

note: sol posting two fics in a month? what is this? no but seriously i got an inspo boost since abbott is back in like 2 weeks so i was rewatching and “get the cameras outta my face before i give you colonoscopy with it” is still top 3 melissa lines (from attack ad)

“You really ate that and have the gall, the gumption to call it food?” Barbara says, baffled by the story you told her as you both were making your coffee. Somehow on the walk in, the conversation had gone from the muffin you got on your way to work, to the topic of childhood lunches.

You laugh, “listen, bologna and ketchup was the only consistent thing I ate until, like, middle school.”

“And you enjoyed that?” she says with a shocked face and what you guess is minor disgust from her downturned lips. You nod in response with a little mhm and Barbara’s hand comes up to hide your face from her line of sight, turning away so as to not laugh right at you. She’s nothing if not polite. Her reaction only makes you laugh more.

You both sober up as you hear the door opening, and there’s equal gratefulness for it being Melissa that enters the room. Your eyes flick over her quickly, taking in her pink top you don’t think you’ve seen before and black leather pants that you’ve certainly never forgotten her wearing. Her eyeliner is perfect, but it doesn’t hide the darker circles under her eyes, the folders in her bag telling you stayed up late to grade assignments.

Barbara greets her while you silently step away to the cabinet, grabbing an orange mug out. You know exactly how she takes her coffee, at least how she takes the bitter lounge coffee, with a sugar and a hefty pour of milk, only the one percent though. Just as she finishes unpacking her stuff and sits down to keep talking with Barb, you return to your spot across from her.

Her eyes move to you, watching you test the coffee with a small sip off the edge. You think a moment before pushing the mug over to her, a tiny smile crossing your lips. She raises a brow, taking a small sip of her own to test it. “It’s perfect, hon, thank you,” she says, just a little ruffled that you pay attention enough to get her coffee right and that she’d never gotten her coffee to taste this good.

“Anything for you,” is your earnest response. With the smile still on your lips, you send a wink her way before your attention is stolen by more people filtering into the room. As you chat over your shoulder with Gregory, Melissa faces her lap, desperate to get rid of the blush that painted her cheeks at the ease of your attention and words.

She decides to stay a little quieter, listening to the conversation Barbara is having with Janine, sipping on her coffee that she was holding close to her chest. There’s a prickly feeling on the side of her face, and when she turns she finds your eyes on her. They flick from her eyes to her shirt, scanning her the sleeves and stitching, and she has to pretend she didn’t notice the barely lingering look at her chest.

“New shirt?” you ask when your eyes meet hers.

She takes in a deep breath, “yeah, just got it yesterday. D’ya not like it or something?”

“What? No, Mel,” you said, “you look beautiful. As always.”

There’s not enough time for her to hide before her cheeks are an even brighter shade of pink than her shirt, eyes blinking rapidly. Melissa prays that Barbara didn't just hear you say those words, let alone see her reaction to them. Whatever this was between you two, it’s new and fragile and not fully defined, and you both agreed you don’t want to let anyone in just yet.

—☽—

Melissa has become attuned to you. She knows when you’re around well before she sees you, always able to sense your presence. If it was because she was always looking for you, she’d never admit it.

With soft steps knowing it’s a quiet time in her room, you approach her classroom as a stop on your way to the lounge for popcorn. Stopping in her doorway, she immediately turns and looks at you. Eyes widening at the immediate attention, you give her a little wave.

“Alright little eagles, I’m gonna be in the hall. Youse better stay on your best behavior,” she says as she stands up from the desk, making an ‘I’m-watching-you’ motion. Joining you in the hall with a little smile on her face, she leans against the wall.

“You didn’t have to leave your class,” you say as you match her position, leaning into her space just a little.

Her smile grows a bit, “then why’d you stop by?”

“Just wanted to see you, that’s all. But getting you to talk to you is definitely a bonus,” you answer, the grin on your face stretching as you look at her while you speak.

That wasn’t the answer she was expecting, not that she really knew what she thought you’d say. Licking her lips, she ducks her head and shakes it, but only for a second. Looking back up at you, she manages to say, “you just came to stare at me then?”

“I prefer the word ‘admire,’ but same-difference.”

“Yeah, right,” she says with a little scoff, trying hard to keep from allowing the heat to creep up her neck.

You mock her a little scoff with a smirk as you push off the wall, about to start back on your journey. “Whatever you say, gorgeous,” you say before turning away. Your turn stutters as you come back around, fingers raising to her necklace to fix the chain so the clip was at the back of her neck. You mumble a barely audible there we go before you turn around and continue on your way.

Melissa is frozen in place for a moment, hand raising to her neck, tracing the spot your hand ran against. A thankful thought passed her mind that the hall was empty, not even a doc camera around. She was not above threatening them to delete the footage or smashing the camera that caught her flustered and dazed from your affection.

—☽—

At lunch, she has to refrain from looking at you, knowing that if she even dared to, that her cheeks would be as red as the firetrucks she adores. Thinking instead that she didn’t want to talk at the moment, you were conversing with Jacob about a movie he watched over the weekend and was dying to share it with someone. Admittedly, Melissa was half listening, really only to hear your voice.

There was a slight snicker from the couches, a sort of snicker that peaked Melissa’s attention. She sees Mr. Morton and another eighth-grade teacher peering at yours and Jacob’s direction, clearly listening to your conversation and finding it humorous. Focusing her ears, she hears mumbles of lame as hell and great, another freak. Her brows furrow and fists clench, Barbara quickly notices her friend’s change in mood and gives her a questioning gaze that Melissa ignores.

“Aye,” Melissa pipes up, the whole room goes silent. Her eyes stay on Morton and what’s-her-face as she menacingly says, “watch your mouth or I watch it for you. Got it?” The only response either one gives her is a fast nod before averting their eyes, frozen in place from fear.

When Melissa’s glare finally leaves them, everyone else’s eyes drop to avoid being next, except for yours and Barbara’s.

“What was that for?” Barbara speaks quietly so only the three of you at the table can hear.

“Nothing, Barb. Just didn’t like what they were saying is all,” she answers, purposefully keeping her eyes off both of you.

Your hand goes to her arm in an attempt to comfort her a bit, thumb caressing her skin, “what were they saying?”

Melissa desperately tries to ignore her rapid heart, “it was nothing, hon. Don’t worry about it.” Unable to resist a little bit of extra contact, she pats your hand reassuringly. Neither of you notice Barbara’s eyebrows fly up in surprise at the outward affection you both displayed.

When lunch ended, Barbara went back to her classroom to do her lesson on the changing seasons, and you and Melissa both had prep periods while your students went off to recess and their extra activities. Taking the extra time you rarely got to have together during the work day, you spent the majority of the hour grading next to each other. Little smiles and checking in made you both ditch the grading altogether, just enjoying each other's company.

“If I invited you over for dinner tonight, what would you say to that?” she asks with a coy smile.

“I’d say I’d love to have dinner with you,” you reply with a tad of shyness, playing with the rings on her hand you were holding in your lap.

“Six work for you?”

“I’ll be there, on the dot.”

Your phone buzzes on the table next to you, making you flinch at the sudden intrusion. She heard you mumble shit under your breath, before you stand and hurriedly collect your things. Double checking that you had everything, you let out a deep breath.

Without much thought, you lean down and press a soft kiss to her cheek, “I’ll see you later.” Before she can respond you’re rushing out of the room to get your kids from art class.

Melissa’s head drops to her desk and grumbles, “gonna be the death of me, that one.”

—☽—

In her kitchen, you’d found that your favorite spot was sitting on the counter next to her. She let you ‘help’ by letting you add the seasonings, but wouldn’t let you near much else. You were content to look at her while she worked in her element, an ease and happiness in her movements that you delight in.

With just having to wait for the vegetables to cook down a bit, she turns to you and leans in close, arm brushing your thigh. You bite your lip, trying to suppress a smile, and raise your hand to brush hair out of her face. Your hand slides from behind her ear to cup her jaw, thumb stroking her cheek.

“You’re so pretty, you know?”

She doesn’t respond. Instead she leans into you, her hands moving from the counter to your thighs. Pink lips brush against yours, a silent question. This was all she’s been wanting since you two snuck away Friday as everyone left school, where she left you breathless in your empty classroom. The answer she gets is your lips pressing into her, soft and slow, savoring the taste of her. Melissa barely holds back a whine at the feeling of your lips on hers, she never thought she could miss a feeling so much, but a weekend apart from you had her craving your touch. Your tongue traces against her bottom lip, begging for entry, and she’s quick to grant it.

Unlike her, you don’t hold in a groan at the feeling of her mouth on yours. Your hands travel into her hair, lightly tugging her closer. The sensation has her hands gripping your thighs, using them to pull you into her. You feel a certain desperation in her kiss that allows you to take the lead easily, sucking her bottom lip between your teeth and biting gently before kissing her softer to make it better. Your legs wrap around her as you slow your lips, wanting her close as possible.

As you pull away, she pushes back in to catch your lips again for just a second. Her hands on your thighs are making it incredibly hard for you to focus on your already struggling breathing. There’s a muted moan from her as your fingers scratch her scalp, pulling gently as her soft hair.

“You’re trouble, you know?” she murmurs breathlessly, mirroring your previous question.

You smile as you rest your head against the cupboard behind you, still holding her face as you ask, “how so?”

“All you’re staring and flirting, you know exactly what I’m talking about,” she responds like it’s obvious.

“Again, I was admiring, not staring. And when was I flirting?” Your tone and the look on your face makes the redhead realize that you truly weren’t aware of the effect you were having on her.

Her hands slide up to your waist, your shirt raising just enough for her pinkies to brush your skin. The goosebumps that develop under her touch makes her heart skip a beat, loving that she had a similar effect on you. When she doesn’t answer you right away, you angle her face to bring her attention back to you, silently asking your question again with your eyes.

Melissa sighs, “saying you’d do ‘anything’ for me, calling me beautiful and pretty. You’re a flirt.”

“Those are just all true, not really flirting. I would do anything for you and you are very beautiful and very pretty,” you say, smiling. The heat in her cheeks spread to your hands, the warmth spreading to your heart. She tries to duck away but you’re faster, pulling her closer just barely to press a soft kiss to the corner of her lips.

She wants to respond, but no words form under your gaze. Your eyes avert from hers and she finds hers following where yours go. Suddenly the simmering of the vegetables in the pot reaches her ears, reminding her that there was a world outside your eyes and lips. Your hands drop from her face, letting her go to check on the food you can’t touch. She just squeezes your hips before letting go.

You’ll still be there when she gets back.

feedback appreciated as always <3

title means something that is ‘undying or everlasting’

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #lisa ann walter #abbott elementary #lgbtq fanfiction #lgbtq #lesbian

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