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htchnr · 23 hours

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♰ 'bout damn time ༻ C. HOWARD.*ೃ˚

➻ masterlist. ➻ buy me a coffee!

CW ➻ mention of being a little hungover ⋆ Cooper being rude to Lucy (as always) ⋆ lowkey lovesick Cooper ⋆ other than that not much ⋆ if i missed anything, lmk!

PAIRING ➻ the same reader x Cooper relationship from this drabble series!

SUMMARY ➻ after a while of travelling, seems all Lucy had to do was get rid of the Vault suit. OR, many times Cooper is nice to you, and one time he isn't mean to Lucy. WC ➻ 750~.

AUTHORS NOTE ➻ i'm taking a short break from writing! no longer than a few weeks don't worry! college finals are getting closer, plus life's getting pretty busy so i could use all the time i can get to take it easy and not over work myself. so here have a cute silly fic before i go on break 😁

Lucy notices Cooper's deep care for you through both little things.

those things would include giving you the first cooked skewer of meat off a fire, (not before he takes a piece off to taste or see if it might make anyone (you) sick.) he always has you walking in front of him, then Lucy in front of you. wether he does this so he can stare at your ass all day, or to make sure he can always keep an eye on you she'll never know.

he lends you his hat from time to time, mainly when your headaches are bad or he notices you could use some cover from the harsh sun of California. Lucy's even seen Cooper lend you his duster if it's particularly cold at night. hell, he even allows you to snuggle up to him for extra warmth. she mainly thinks he allows this so he can keep better watch on you, but a small part inside her thinks that he likes the comfort of your body against his.

despite him knowing you can more than handle yourself in a fight he always puts himself first, as if to scope out any possible things that could happen and catch whatever bad things come first.

and perhaps the thing Lucy has grown to adore the most, is watching Cooper wordlessly extend a hand to you — wether you fall behind a little and he reaches to hold your hand, or to help you get up. it almost feels like she's invading something intimate and personal when she catches glimpses of the actions.

the market is loud and busy, full of people buying and selling a wide range of things. you had moved through town in the hopes for a hotel, the last bounty having paid more than enough for a few nice nights of sleep.

"hey, you need anythin'?" Cooper asks from beside you as the three of you walk through a busy market. "i'll do an extra poke 'round for whatever."

you nod, "i'm good i think," you reply, and Cooper looks at you with that 'yeah sure' look, as if to nudge you to think harder. looking down at your thin coat, you sigh, "okay.. maybe if you can find a better coat anywhere? winter's coming up and it would be very nice of you?" you smile at him, another warm autumn breeze blowing past.

he nods, scarred fingers rolling the caps around in his coat pocket. "well i would like some-" Lucy speaks up.

"zip it Vaultie, didn't ask." he huffs, raising a hand to pat your shoulder. "i'll be back," he nods to you, looking over your shoulder to give Lucy a sour, unamused look.

you nod back, "if we're not here in a bit we'll probably be back at the hotel, my feet are killing me and last night at the bar was too much," you groan, rolling your shoulders. Cooper nods, walking off.

you huff with a small smile before moving along the market stalls to peruse for more med supplies. Lucy scoffs behind you, walking up to your side. you look over to her, brows twitching with tired curiosity. "hm?" you hum, as if asking her what's up.

she shrugs, "how does he keep doing it?" she asks, her face displaying her confusion and frustration.

you shake your head, looking over at a stall. "what do you mean?"

"switching like that," she adjusts her backpack. "he's shockingly nice with you, asking you if you need anything, then when i pitch in all of that is gone and he snaps," she huffs.

you wave her off, "it's nothing personal," you reply, eyes glued to a stall selling a bunch of clothes. "well, probably anyway." you pull Lucy along with you, stopping before the stall. "you know what might lessen his snappy-ness towards you?" you turn to her, her big doe eyes blinking back at you.

"what?" she answers.

"getting rid of that Vault suit." you point to the massive crate full of clothes. "pick a few things out, i'll pay, and we'll call it a uh, little experiment, yeah?"

she thinks for a minute, the Vault suit did have it's benefits, but it was also a blaring neon sign telling people where she's from. which Lucy has learned the hard way that that's usually not beneficial anymore. she nods, hands moving to start sifting through the pile of clothes.

the sun has long since set by the time the two of you got back to the hotel. you had briefly looked around the market for Cooper, but upon not finding him you decided to just head back to the hotel. you sluggishly walked up the steps, occasionally eyeing Lucy's new clothes. it sure took some getting used to, not having that hideous Vault suit to look at.

you stepped up the final stair, walking through the short hall until you reached the door of the room you were renting. you unlocked the door, finding Cooper lounging on a chair in the corner of the room. "hey," you offer, letting Lucy walk in before closing and locking the door.

Lucy eyed Cooper as you two came it, watching for any change in his expression. yet, she got nothing.

he groans as he gets up, grabbing his hat and chucking it on the bed you and him shared. he reached for something that laid on the bed, then chucked it your way. you caught the item, moving it around in your hands — a thick coat.

you grinned, "thank you! it looks my size too!" you put on the coat, grinning as it fits almost perfectly.

he cracks a small smile, nodding. "not a problem, dollface."

Lucy looks between the two of you, watching as you take the coat off and throw it over a chair. you set down your heavy bag and pull your boots off, throwing yourself face first into the bed. god that feels good, you think to yourself.

Cooper huffs, throwing his duster over your new(ish) coat. "c'mon move those legs, else you're sleepin' on the floor." Lucy's eyes widen, he'd never, right? though the tone in his voice doesn't hold an ounce of seriousness. well, just the part where he asked you to move.

you groan into the mattress, mumbling something he can't hear. "c'mon, move it doll," he grunts as he kneels on the bed, strong, scarred hands gripping your thighs as he shoves you to one side of the bed and goes to lay down not before landing a crude slap on your ass. he rests his head against the headboard, his hat tipped forward to cover his eyes.

you let out a long, tired sigh, turning to face him. you lay beside him, hands idly fiddling with one of his belts. you lean in closer, voice hushed. "y'know," sleep lacing your voice. "managed to get her to ditch the suit, it'd be nice if you would say something,"

Cooper's hairless brows furrow as he sighs. you let out a yawn, nudging your head against his shoulder as you slowly drift asleep, hands merely resting against his hip.

Lucy always finds herself quietly observing you two, watching the little strangely affectionate gestures between you and the man who seems to have it out for her. like now, she watches him sigh deeply, before lightly shaking his head.

"hey Vaultie?"

Lucy nearly jumps at the sound of his voice, even though it's quiet as to not wake you.

"yeah?" the corners of her lips almost twitching.

"'bout damn time you got rid of it."

Lucy's lips pull into a small smile. the comment might not have meant much to anyone else, but to her it was neutral, rather than his usual hostility. and she'll take any win, no matter how small.

TAGLIST ; @live-logs-and-proper @looonytooons @seeingstarks @thewastelandwriter @lacey-mercylercy @marina-and-the-memes @p4rsuade @anonymous-creep @likoplays @iceviolet11 @https-junebug @silverose365 @athanza @songbirdemerald-blog @justt-myth @looneylooomis @v3lv3tf0x @keyofgigi

#⋆୨🩷©2024 htchnr #⋆୨⭐️cooper howard #cooper howard x fem!reader #cooper howard imagine #cooper howard oneshot #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard #the ghoul oneshot #the ghoul imagine #the ghoul fallout #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul #walton goggins #walton ghoulgins

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coloredlion102-blog · 1 year

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THE,, THEM,,;$:$/$

#rick and morty #rick sanchez #morty smith #he needs a little help zipping up his coat #sobbing I love them so much #holds them gently

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alastor-simp · 4 months

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Alastor with a female reader who is selectively mute Part 1

I always wanted to know how Alastor would react to a demon character like this or who is similar to Komi-san from Komi Can't communicate, so this is going to be my take on it.

**First Meeting**

Your arrival in hell wasn't a pleasant one. Literally the second you fell, you were approached by demons left and right, either trying to rob you or offering to sleep with you. Yelling at them would have been easy, but you were a very anxious person to the point you were mute with everyone you encountered. Surprisingly, you were able to run away from the unwanted problems you faced in hell, and was able to come across a flyer that was taped to one of the alley walls. "Come stay at the Happy Hotel" it read, and you figured that it might be a good place to stay for a while and try to make a sense of what you could do now that you were in hell. Having followed the map that was on the other side of the flyer, you were able to come across the hotel, but the neon sign was different then what the paper said, but you figured they probably were remodeling it.

The hotel was huge, it was plastered with neon signs, but also had a radio tower on one side, a large fish like contraption, and a pirate ship. "Amazing" you thought to yourself as you made your way closer to the door, and lightly knocked. A cheery voice was heard on the other side and soon the door opened to reveal a pretty, blonde girl. She had devilish features, but a very adorable baby face, and her smile was quite cute as well. "Oh! Hello! My name is Charlie Morningstar. How may I help you?", she said to you with big bright eyes, as she was patiently waiting for your response. Clenching your jaw, feelings of anxiety began to well up in your stomach, but you bared with it and simply held up the hotel poster in front of Charlie. Charlie was a little curious about your strange response, but she put the pieces together that you were wanting to stay at the hotel. "SQUEAL!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR COMING!", she said as she threw her arms around you in a bear hug, then letting you go as she pulled you into the hotel.

The inside of the hotel was nice, but needed some remodeling, but you liked it overall. Looking around, you noticed the other demons that were in the hotel. A mini demon was zipping around in a cute dress, cleaning the ceiling with a duster, a cat like demon was chugging a bottle of booze at the bar, and a very tall spider was standing next to the record player, picking out a song. Stopping what they were doing, they all turned to look at you, curiously. Nervous, you raised your hand at them, signifying a hello. The cat demon just nodded his head and continue chugging, while the fast demon zipped in front of you, waving back with a smile, before zooming away to finish cleaning. The tall spider gave you a wink, as they walked to the bar and took a seat. "Vaggie! We have another patron!" Charlie said, as she yelled out next to you, while also leading you to one of the lobby couches to have a seat. As Charlie walked away, your eyes began to scan around the hotel, taking in every detail, and also glancing at the portraits hanging on the wall with Charlie and what looked to be her parents.

"Why Hello there! Who might you be?", a static voice said, as you looked up to see a red suit man with a very sharp smile standing in front of you, leaning down to place his face closer to yours. He was dressed to the nines in a red striped coat, along with a monocle and bow-tie. He also appeared to be holding a microphone staff? Was he a singer by chance? Realizing you were getting distracted, you just nodded your head at the man, and pointed to the poster, similar to what you did with Charlie. The man raised an eyebrow, as he continued to lean closer, most likely waiting for your answer, as his smile got wider, almost breaking his face.

**Alastor POV**

Alastor's eyes continued to stare at the quiet demon, who was holding the poster and kept tapping against it frantically. Amused, Alastor leaned closer, while moving his staff to tap against her chin: "Something wrong my dear? Cat got your tongue?" Alastor watched as the demon remained silent, but he could tell by their eyes that they were nervous, oh how entertaining. "Oh Alastor! So nice of you to show up! This is our new patron who just arrived at the hotel", Alastor heard, as he turned to see Charlie smiling at him, while dragging Vaggie by the hand. Leaning back from his position, Alastor continued to gaze at you while turning back to Charlie. "Ah! So this wayward sinner is here to stay at the hotel! Excellent!" Alastor beamed, as he look down at you, while you shifted in your seat.

**Your POV**

You started to feel a little uncomfortable with everyone's eyes on you, making you clench your hands on your lap. You noticed the other demon next to Charlie. She had long grey hair, and only one of her eyes was showing. She did give you a hard gaze when she saw you, but it softened after few minutes. As she came closer to you, she waved her hand as a hello, while also asking what your name was. You stayed silent, as the butterflies in your stomach made you feel like you wanted to vomit, as everyone was watching you, waiting for your answer. "Whats the matter with you, toots? You deaf or something?", The spider demon had taken a seat next to you, while wrapping an arm around your neck with one of his arms, while poking your cheek with his other hand. Freezing up, you felt your eyes start to water, and you started to slightly shake. Charlie noticed your reactions and bent down on her knees to gaze at you, asking if you were alright. Taking a slow deep breath, you nodded then made a notion with your hands asking for something to write on. Charlie quickly got up and ran to the desk to grab a large notepad and pen, before coming back to you. Once you had the notepad, you began to write down what you wanted to say, before turning the notepad around for everyone to see, while giving them a shy smile:

"Hello my name is Y/N. I just arrived in Hell a few minutes ago and I saw your poster and wanted to stay here. I'm sorry for not responding to you guys normally, but I am selectively mute, I'm sorry again. Its very nice to meet all of you!"

Everyone around you slowly read the notepad and all turned back to look at you. Charlie and Vaggie looked very apologetic, the spider just shrugged his shoulders, the mini one just continued to smile at you, but more softly this time, and the cat demon just continued to drink from the bar. The man in red, or Alastor as they called him, continued to smile at you, seeming unfazed by what you wrote, but you noticed his eyes soften a bit, but he made sure to hide it from the others. "Oh! I'm sorry if we made you uncomfortable." Charlie began to bow her head, but you waved your hands, letting her know it was alright. Charlie raised her head, and soon her frown turned back into a bright smile: "Oh yes, let me introduce everyone! This is Vaggie, my girlfriend. The spider next to you is Angel Dust. Niffty is the small cute one. Husk is the one at the bar, and this is Alastor." You listened to all of the names Charlie said, and looked at everyone, while smiling and nodding your head. Angel Dust smirked while looking at you, turning you head to look at him: "You're quite a cutie aren't ya? I bet your voice sounds very sexy." Angel continued to wrap his arms around you, continuing to flirt with you, until Alastor's staff smacked him on the head. "Now my good fellow! It's not proper to talk that way to a lady! Please kindly remove yourself from them!" Alastor said, as he gazed at Angel, smiling still, but it looked more menacing this time. Angel let you go, while rubbing his head: "Satan F*** Al! You didn't have to hit me with that thing!" Vaggie then yelled at them both to be quiet, as she walked over to front desk and grabbed what looked like to be a room key. She walked back and handed it to you, telling you that your room is on the fourth floor and you can go up there and get settled. Nodding your head as a thank you, you began to walk over to one of the elevators and made your way to your room.

Arriving in your room, you scanned around the interior. The room had some dust and cobwebs, but a little cleaning would help with that. The room was decorated in a maroon red, with a large bed with black sheets, two large windows with curtains, a bathroom and a very wide closet. It almost felt like you got the home suite, which made you feel guilty as you really didn't need a extravagant room like this. Still in thought, you were alerted by a rhythmic knock on your door. Walking over, you looked in the peephole to see Al standing there with his big smile. Opening the door, you nodded your head at Alastor, as he smiled down at you. "Hello again my dear! I was wondering if you had time to chat!"

***Alastor POV***

The quiet sinner nodded her head at Al, while opening the door, allowing me to come in. How adorable! He thought, while making his over to the center of the room and turning back to look at them. "Now my dear! I am here wanting to apologize for how I acted in the lobby! I wasn't behaving like a proper gentleman and I understand if I made you uncomfortable, so let me offer you my sincerest apologies! Let's start over from the beginning, shall we?" Alastor bowed his head a bit, as a sign of him apologizing, and extending his hand out in a handshake. You appeared taken aback in Alastor's eyes, ,but you gave him a soft smile and shook his hand. Once you finished shaking hands, you grabbed the notepad and pen again and began to write to Al, as he gazed at you, wondering what you were writing before you turned the notepad around. Alastor leaned closer, and began to read the message:

"It is alright, Alastor. There is no need for you to apologize. And besides, I'm the one that should apologize for not answering your question when you asked me."

Alastor finished reading, and turned his eyes towards you. His sharp smile slowly turned into a soft grin and his glowing eyes had softened. "Don't worry about that my dear! Now I take it since you will have just arrived in Hell, you are lacking some necessities correct?" Alastor had moved away from you, as he continued to talk while walking around your room. Turning back to you, you gave him a small nod. "Then we will head to the city! Me and Charlie can accompany you! What do you think?" he said, as he turned back to you, with his large grin coming back. Nodding your head at Alastor was his indication that you accepted. Smiling wider, Alastor turned back to you, as he made his way to your door. "It feels that I have extended my stay, so I will leave you be darling! Do make yourself comfortable!" he said, as turned his head back to you. Pulling out the pad again, you wrote down another message and showed it to Al.

"Thank you."

"Your welcome my dear! Have a pleasant evening! Also don't forget to head to the kitchen later! My mother's famous jambalaya is on the menu for tonight! So good, it nearly killed her! HAHA!" , Laughing out his response, Al watched as he saw you give him a smile, a real smile this time. "My! What a gorgeous smile!" He thought, as he bid you adieu and made his way back to the lobby. As he made his way back, Alastor stopped and thought about you. Puzzling was a word he used to describe you. He had never encountered a sinner down here who chose to not speak while having the ability to do so. He mostly assumed you were terrified of him, due to his status as "The Radio Demon. Most feared overlord in Hell.", but that wasn't the case. Something about you made him feel odd, hell he even apologized to you, which he would never do given his massive pride/ego, so he wondered why. Seeing you write on the notepad and apologizing for not responding normally, made his heart ache. Why should you apologize for something like that? Realizing he had stopped in the middle of the hallway, he carried on back to the others, still thinking about you and also how would your voice sound when you spoke out loud. Alastor smiled wider, as he thought you were going to be a very special and entertaining sinner here at the hotel.

Part 2 of the story is Here

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goosita · 4 months

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trying to work when you're sick as young!politician!snow's secretary would be hard, but not for the reason you might think

you've been sniffling since yesterday afternoon, but this morning when you woke up, you felt like you'd been hit by a train. every muscle in your body was sore, your throat hurt, your nose was running and you could tell you had at least a lowgrade fever. you glanced at your alarm clock next to your bed and groaned, seeing that you'd woken up just a little while before it was set to go off anyway.

you thought about calling in sick, but you've never done it before. were you supposed to call....coriolanus? directly? he was your only boss, you worked solely for him. but that thought made you feel even worse than your illness did. you knew that he had a busy day today full of meetings and work calls, and that you needed to be there to help organize his schedule. you couldn't stand the thought of disappointing him.

you sucked it up and took the hottest shower you could stand in efforts to clear your sinuses and stop the fever-induced chills wracking your body every few minutes. you knew coriolanus liked for you to look put-together in pretty dresses and heels, but today you just couldn't bring yourself to do it. you dressed in a loose blouse and pair of wide-leg trousers that felt comfortable enough, shoving your feet into flat shoes. good enough.

so now here you are, bundled in your sweater you keep at the office and trying hard to manifest that nobody will notice your red and raw nose or your watery eyes, least of all coriolanus. the wish goes ungranted, prayer unanswered as he strolls in and immediately stops and stares at you.

"what's wrong?" he asks.

"oh, um. just a little cold," you answer, voice nasally and much lower in pitch than normal. coriolanus frowns at you and shrugs his coat off, hanging it up and walking straight over to you to press the back of his hand to your forehead.

"you're burning up."

his lips turn down even further, not noticing the way you freeze at his sudden touch. coriolanus has been a lot more...touchy with you lately, but even still, this amount of concern is unexpected. his brows furrow at you, looking at you for a long moment. he carefully brushes your hair out of your face, looking over you and taking note of your outfit and general state. you can tell he notices that you've dressed much more comfortably than you usually would, and that your face is makeup-free and hair left at simply brushed through to undo any tangles.

"up," he tells you, gently lifting you out of your chair by your elbow.

"what?"

"let's get you home," he says gently, rubbing a warm and heavy hand up and down your back. "you're in no shape to be here today. i'll have my driver take you back to your apartment."

you look at him confused, unsure what to say. you're not sure if he's upset that you're sick or if he's more worried for your wellbeing, but it makes you anxious that he's acting so abrupt and unceremonious, almost as if you being sick is putting him on edge.

"coryo...?" you ask quietly. he freezes where he stands, having gone to grab your jacket off the coatrack. you watch as his entire demeanor softens.

"yes, miss y/n?"

you swallow hard, wincing at the pain it causes in your throat. "are...are you upset with me?"

coriolanus' eyebrows draw inward and upward at your question, quickly shaking his head.

"oh, no. no, of course not," he breathes, rushing over to help you slide into your coat. "i'm worried about you is all. i don't want you making yourself sicker by being here today, you're clearly very unwell. it's not your fault you're ill."

he carefully zips up your coat, grabbing his red scarf from the rack as well. before you can protest, he's draping it around your neck and tying it.

"for extra warmth," he explains. "it's freezing out there today."

the scarf is so soft where it's tucked beneath your chin, instantly adding more warmth where you need it. coriolanus gives you a tiny smile, lips closed but small dimple appearing at the corner of his mouth.

you're led to the car by him, his hand resting between your shoulder blades the entire time. coriolanus opens the car door for you to slide into the back seat, instructing his driver to take you home and make sure you get into your apartment safe and sound. his voice holds so much authority when he speaks to the driver, a deepness and sternness that's never present when he's addressing you.

by the time you reach your apartment and climb the steps up, there are several beautifully packaged boxes waiting for you at your door, as well as a single red, long-stemmed rose. you tilt your head and bring them inside, opening them one by one to find that coriolanus has had soup, bread, and medicine delivered to you. attached to the rose by a red satin ribbon is a note that simply reads:

"get well soon, darling"

#politician!coryo x secretary!reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coryo x you #coryo x reader #tbosbas #bosbas #tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth x you

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baddiewiththebook · 7 months

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ONE OF THE BOYS

-> While you pine hopelessly over your best friend, Eddie Munson. You hear the sentiment 'one of the boys' one too many times and you've decided to change that. All in the name of the one boy who won't even look at you, or so you think.

-> eddie munson x you (she/her)

-> friends to lovers, slow burn, angst

-> warnings - strong language and suggestive themes [no smut]

-> a/n originally a one-shot, but I couldn’t help myself and wrote some more!

Part 1 [Part 2]

-> <-

Your heart sinks into the deepest pits of your chest. The tiny inconspicuous hole where no one would ever look. Your spirit lies under the earth, while Eddie lies bricks instead of dirt across your corpse. A quite violent death you have taken on.

“Are you still with us?” Gareth waves a hand in front of your face. Grease slips between his fingers from his two day old burger that your school pretends was freshly slapped on a grill that morning.

You squirm. “Sorry, what was that?”

“Eddie says you could come to practice,” he throws his hand up. “You’re one of the boys!”

Right.

Like someone had thrown water across your face, you slide theatrically to the floor in a puddle of you. Theatrically speaking - of course.

The lunchroom chatter dies in the back of your head like you just did a moment ago. You excuse yourself from the group, while claiming that you have forgotten your exam in the next class period and you should really put in at least a few moments of study time.

Your few moments are actually spent stowing yourself away in the ladies room.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe he asked you out!” A girl squeals. “What are you going to wear? Tell me everything!”

You had stopped your self doubting and your eternally ill fading romantic imaginations you came up with while you stare at the dull gaze in your eye behind the dirty spotted bathroom mirror. You should focus on your studies anyway. Failing your senior year of high school, again, was not on your list of to-do's.

Then again, the two girls gossiping were very pretty. You took notes. Hair full and down to her chest in length. The kind of hair Texas wishes they had. Cheeks were plump, and dusted pink with some powder of sorts. Full lips covered in sweet strawberry gloss. You can smell their gloss from just a sink away. That, or perhaps that was their perfume. Sweet and feminine.

“I'm sorry,” one of them notices you staring, while she applies a thick coat of her lip-gloss. 'Strawberry Dream' is what the little label on the tube reads. “Are we being loud?”

“No, no,” you shake your head.

“Okay,” she sings awkwardly, before continuing the conversation her friend had started. “Anyway, Josie, I think we should go shopping for a new outfit. Oh! I - so - need a new gloss. Something sexy!”

“Sexy?” You accidentally slip the words, before you could stop yourself.

The girl cocks her head. “Do you usually eavesdrop?”

Not that they weren’t talking in front of her.

“My bad,” you tug at the ends of your t-shirt. “Erm- you’re trying to impress this boy?”

“Yes,” she says simply. “Do you have some sort of advice?”

Looking you up and down, she spots the stains from your lunch at your chest. Trying not to snort and jeer at your expense, she waits for you to respond. Her cocky tight lipped smile says enough.

“Actually,” you reply. “I- Why don’t you try being yourself? He clearly likes you to ask you out, so maybe you could tone it down?”

“Tone it down?” She frowns. “Like you? Tell me er- girl of some sort- how many dates have you gotten with that fresh out of bed look you wear every single day. You look like a shy boy. Yeah, I see you around. You’re small like a shrimp. You need to be shark in these waters or your going to get your head bitten off. Put on a bra. A low cut top. And, maybe some blush to hide that dead corpse face you wear-,”

“It’s my skin-,”

“When you get a date, then you get an opinion. Got it?”

“Got it,” you zip your lips. What a bitch.

-> <-

Practice, as the group of men slamming poorly synchronized chords together, is held at Gareth’s garage promptly after school. You did not participate in the noise, but rather you sit in a lawn chair onlooking. Fanning yourself with your hands, sweat glistens across your skin like armor.

Your friends finish their set. Eyes on you, you cheer for their noise that will surely draw eyes from the neighborhood. Someone will be by soon to tell the boys to quiet their racket, and to perhaps indulge themselves in a new activity like reading a book. The Book, perhaps.

“You’re getting better,” you propose promisingly.

Eddie nudges your shoulder with a fist on his way to the cooler to grab a cold soda. You pretend like your heart didn’t just stop inside of your chest.

“I told you, guys,” Eddie has been raving to his band mates (and occasional D&D players) that you, his B.F.F., wasn’t going to ruin practice. That just because you might have a new rack and hips hidden underneath this t-shirt wasn’t going to change any dynamic within the group.

They all agreed about this while staring at your ever growing chest and hips. You cover your chest again, before speaking out of turn.

“Are you ever going to preform these songs?” You ask the group.

Eddie’s plush lips touch the bottle his soda came in. Condensation from the glass dripped across his chin and down his neck to the exposed flesh of his chest.

And, they were so worried about you “developing.” Here you are, eyeballing your best friend like you haven’t ever seen him before. Suddenly, you woke up one morning and you were obsessed with him!

It isn’t like that at all. You didn’t know when you began having feelings for your best friend. Somewhere between living next to each other in the trailer park. Sneaking out after your curfew to splash in Lovers Lake (Eddie’s favorite way to wash off his worries). And, the times you tripped over your own clumsiness when Eddie was the first to rescue you. You might have just fallen into his eyes you stared at them so long. Maybe- maybe that’s when something changed.

No more boys and girls - there are men and women. High school changes us - all of us. There’s science behind it all, you suppose. You took health courses, but no scientific explanation could bring you to figure out how you were completely enamored by your best friend.

Your best friend, who is sweating underneath the heat of the garage. Finding himself without options, he strips his shirt.

“Hold this for me,” he says like there’s no issue. Because there was no issue for him, you’re alone in your feelings. Classic.

“Sure,” you fold his shirt up in your lap, while resisting the urge to inhale his scent like a trained dog trying to find a missing person. Or, like an addict getting their fix for the first time in days.

“And, yes,” Eddie announces, before slamming down a new chord. “Come watch us at the Hideout!”

“Really?!”

“Sure,” Gareth speaks for his friend. “If you want.”

“I’ll come,” you ask, “What time?”

“We’ll start setting up around six in the evening, but we’re not set to play until seven,” Eddie explains to you. “Friday.”

You nod. “I’ll be there!”

“Oh, Eddie!” Gareth grabs his attention. “You gonna bring Roxie?”

Roxie Martin? Now, she’s a hot pair of tits in a mini skirt. Full scarlet lips, Rockin’ Roxie, as some people called her, was a She Devil in human skin. Sinking her teeth into her pray, she poisons them with feminine venom. She doesn’t even have to sing them a tune, for men will follow her into the depths of the vast blue ocean without question.

Some just thought she was a slut in heels, though.

Whatever story floats.

Eddie strums a sour note.

“Dude, I’m just teasing,” his friend snickers.

Eddie scolds his friend, then the group of boys begin to slam on their instruments some more.

You sat there for hours watching Eddie slobber over his guitar. Sweat glistened down across his skin. His fingers striking each chord by heart as he did every night. Touching the strings expertly with the tips of his cherry red fingers. He begun feeling sore towards the end of the night, and the guys agree that it would probably be a good opportunity to turn in for the night.

Practice would resume tomorrow.

And you were forever and eternally frustrated.

-> <-

“Robin,” you slouched over the clear candy bowl labeled ‘Free.’ “I need to be a girl.”

Robin jabs away at the keypad of the store computer that is clearly frozen. While she might be renting out videos to people, Robin’s shit with technology.

That gave her more time to ignore her responsibilities, however, and acknowledges to your moping. With an arched brow, she sucks in her lips and she lets them go with a loud pop.

“You are a girl,” she states the obvious, while appearing to look down at your chest. “Or- so I think.”

“That’s not what I meant,” you stuff more candy into your mouth like a starved squirrel just coming out from hibernation. Squirrels hibernate, don’t they? Whatever.

“What ever could you possibly mean?” She props herself up onto her elbows.

There was a time when you were a child that a mean boy kicked dirt on you at the playground. Swooping in like your knight in shining armor, Eddie came to you to brush the dirt from your clothes and to wipe the tears from your cheeks. Feeling outcasted, Eddie surrounded himself in the weaker kids. The kids that enjoy recess sitting on the brick wall of their school, or close by the door to wait for your teachers to let you back inside.

You read books with him during quiet reading because he didn’t know how to keep the letters from mixing together. Eddie would apologize for his hair being frizzy, and all over the place. You thought he was funny looking like that.

Sometimes you wish you could go back to the good old days where your heart didn’t sing in your chest whenever your childhood best friend was near. You wish the aching in your bones would sooth itself instead of feeling fuzzy every time Eddie greeted you at a whisper from behind. That his strong hand touching you like a doll would become friendly again, and less like you want to shove him against the lockers to kiss his pretty face.

You knew better.

Yet, here you are.

Say it had something to do with what happened yesterday. Roxie’s sexy. You want her sexy. Not her. But, just the sexy. And, whoever was in the bathroom was right. You’re much more than a baggy t-shirt and a pair of denim on your legs. You grew up during the summer, and so what if you want to show off a bit. You earned your assets.

“I can’t tell you,” you put out there for Robin to read. “You’ll blab to Steve, and Steve will tell- doesn’t matter.”

You wait for her to speak, but Robin never does. She blinks at you.

“There’s this boy-,”

“A boy?!” Her voice echoes against the furthest most walls.

You wave your hands. “Robin!”

“Go on!”

“I just - I want to grow up a little.”

The jangle of the front door opening broke their conversation apart. There was nothing elegant about Eddie Munson. He slammed his jacket into the stand of desperately rentable tapes. The display wobbled. Swiveled. And, slammed into the floor. The video tapes splattered.

“Dude!” Robin huffs. “I just put those up!”

Eddie scrambles to rescue the mess. “My bad, Robs. You know? You might not want to put these right in front of the walkway. ‘Could get knocked over - see?”

Robin knew Eddie from class. Smart mouth guy with a lot to say about literature. He held a lot in his head, but once he got to a piece of paper, he could just go.

“The usual, Eddie?”

Oh, and he also rented out the same tape once a week for the past three weeks. It was a Rated R film that had a single one minute scene of a nude woman on top of a man she was suffocating. Not with her boobs- with his belt.

Robin snaps back into reality.

“Eh, looking for something new,” he fixed the display, before joining the girls at the register. “Suggestions?”

Robin slams her palm against the monitor. “Stupid thing is still frozen. Oh! Did you hear your little pal has a crush on a boy?”

“Robin!” You cringe. Turning into the wallpaper sounds really nice right about now. Hell, you’ll fix that computer if it gets Robin off the topic of you.

Anyone, she can blab to anyone, but Eddie. Where was Steve when you needed him? Oh, you are so screwed!

“What? It’s just Eddie!”

Just Eddie - yeah, Robin, that’s the problem.

“A crush? On who?” Eddie scoffs out loud.

Your jaw goes agape. “Are you saying I can’t have a crush on someone?”

“No, I just- you’re one of the guys!”

“She can’t be one of the guys forever,” Robin defends you. Perhaps she saw you twitch. “She’s a girl underneath those stains.”

You brush your dirty t-shirt.

“Robin-,”

“What? Whoever this boy is, he’s shit out of luck if he doesn’t see what we all see,” your friend continues.

Eddie teeters his balance back and forth on each foot.

“I’m going to go look for a movie,” he says.

Robin ignores him shuffling into the isles. “I’m just saying if he doesn’t like you back that is his loss. Right?”

You peak around for any sight of Eddie. His frizzy mane is locked onto a movie in the farthest isle.

“Oh my god,” Robin follows your gaze. “Oh my god! This is big- no, huge- I can’t believe before my eyes your friends to lovers trope-,”

“Robin! Hush!” You whisper at a much louder volume than you anticipate.

Yet, here comes Eddie back to the counter without a film in hand. Robin shoots you a glance that screams that she’s about to burst like a toddler who has to pee, but they can’t get their overalls off.

“Can’t find anything?” Robin intertwined her fingers in front of her.

“Maybe tomorrow,” Eddie sighs.

The sound that came from Robin’s lips could have been the earth splitting in two, and trying to suck her in or the angels above calling her back to heaven. She’s a bit eccentric.

Oh, God, you think she’s plotting.

“Actually,” she settles. “I have a film back here that we haven’t set out on shelves yet.”

“Is it a romance?” He guesses purely based on the actors gazing longingly on the front cover. “Robin, I don’t do romance.”

“Obviously,” she says as a matter-of-fact. “Anyway, this is a mystery. Hm? You know? Like clues and shit.”

“Clues and shit?”

“Maybe,” you signal ‘no’ to Robin, but she blatantly ignores you, “you two can watch it together. Hm? Solve the mystery, before the show ends? Let me know what you think!”

“Robin-,” Eddie begins, but Robin is already scanning the tape to rent out.

“It’ll be fun!”

You pinch the bridge of your nose.

“I’ll see you around six for a movie night like old times?”

You mask your embarrassment. Nodding in a set agreement, Eddie left with the film still eyeing the cover like it had just insulted him.

“How could you do that?” You shame her.

Robin shrugs her shoulders, while dancing behind the counter like a relationship fairy.

“Oh! You’ll need something to wear by then!” She shouts to her coworker. “Steve! I’m not feeling well! Will you be okay for the rest of the day?!”

“Ah ha,” Steve appears like he’s been waiting for permission to enter the conversation. “You’re not leaving me here by myself!”

“What was that? I can’t hear you,” she points to her ear, as she’s setting her jacket over her shoulders. “Ear ache.”

“Robin!”

“Huh? Oh, thank you!” She shuffles herself and you out the front door.

Warm air meets you outside. Although you wished to take off another layer, you felt practically naked as is. Cotton blend shirts were thick in these spring days. The same could be said for your denim jeans.

“Won’t he be mad?” You ask.

Robin snorts. “Steve? No.”

No explanation given - no explanation necessary. Robin and Steve were like a pair of siblings at most times. Although, knowing Steve had a thing for Robin at some point made the analogy much creepier than it should have been.

You drive yourself and Robin back to your home where your family was not. They’re out of town for the whole week doing an anniversary trip. Figuring your of the age to take care of yourself, they’ve left you by yourself with only the responsibility of keeping the home clean.

“What are we looking for?” You sit on your made bed hugging one of your pillows to your chest, while Robin riffles through your closet.

Robin shoves another dress across the hanger to the disapproved pile. Her grunts and sighs are discouraging as is, but rather her blatant disregard that you like some of those clothes is hurting even more. Or, maybe you like those clothes. You haven’t gone shopping in a while.

“Do you own anything that isn’t from Forever 40?” She jokes heartily.

You tilt your head to one side. “I like my clothes.”

“Well, we don’t have time for shopping,” she scans around your room for something. Jostling your clean laundry, your papers across your desk and the drawers under them - she finally lets out an, “Ah, ha!”

You groan. “Are you going to clean your mess?”

Clearly ignoring you, Robin holds up a sharpened pair of scissors like a magic wand. Holding one of your plain shirts in the air, she begins slicing away at every angle.

“Hey!” You protest.

She pauses. “Right, put it on.”

“Rob, that’s my favorite shirt!”

“I’ll buy you another one,” she shoves your head through the hole, and continues sniping at the edges. Fondling your chest, she measures where the top of your breast lies. “Hey! Your the first woman to let me touch their boobs. Congrats!”

You laugh at this. “Robin, as your friend, you can touch my boobs any time you need a fix.”

“Don’t tease me with a good time,” she jokes back. With one more snip, she steps away from you. “You have any skirts? No, of course you don’t. Jeans will have to do.”

You couldn’t hear Robin’s tangent. In the standing mirror hung on your wall, you saw someone new. Surely, she moves when you move. Her chest bounces while she breathes. That tan from the summer on the beach is touching her skin in a most devilish manor. You hold your chin a bit higher seeing what a few snips from craft scissors will do.

“Makeup!” Robin insists.

Pink rouge presses into your cheekbones. Those cheekbones you earned from your grandmother. That’s always the compliment your mother spoke. And, mascara coated thickly across your eyelashes. Your lashes are rather short, but with that black mascara you were seeing yourself glow with confidence.

Lip gloss that tasted like honey-

“In case you’re kissing any boys tonight,” she clicks the tube together with the wand. “My dear, you’re ready.”

You take a spin in the mirror.

“I hardly recognize myself,” you touch your hair.

Robin slaps your hand away. “Don’t mess that up, before Eddie gets here. Oh! And, look at the time, I should go.”

You’re left by yourself for another hour. Twiddling your thumbs, and checking your makeup by the minute. Eventually, you pop popcorn in the microwave and place the bowl in the center of the coffee table in the living room. You twist the bowl around, so you can’t see the chip on the side from when you dropped the bowl a few years ago.

Tapping your foot against the plush carpet beneath your feet, you travel between worlds where you feel ridiculous for dressing up like this, but you also feel hot.

Denim cuts at your waist, and you begin to doubt wearing jeans instead of pajamas. You never wore jeans after you got home. Eddie will surely know what’s up.

You have no time to change your mind because the doorbell rings through the quiet house. Stillness - as if moving would threaten your life somehow. Then, again, the doorbell sings.

You drag the sweat from your hands onto the back of your jeans. Jeans that you should have changed to shorts. He’ll see right through your ruse!

You settle your nerves with one more glance over in the mirror in your little entryway. When you open the front door, Eddie’s tickling the lavender your mom set out on the front porch last week.

“What? Your shirt go through a lawnmower?” Was the first thing he says.

You knew it.

“Erm-,”

“I brought the movie, and beer,” he held up the movie and a six pack he snaked off of his uncle. “Come on, I’m freezing out here.”

Eddie doesn’t ask where anything is. He’s been here so many times before, birthdays, holidays and any time your mother has just come back from the supermarket with “the good snacks.”

You knew each other for some time, which is probably why he’s never going to see you as someone other than his best friend. Why would you think about that? You had a shot, right?

“I popped popcorn,” you pointed in the living room.

“Sick,” he drops down into your couch. “We can go ahead and start the movie - the guys will be here soon.”

“The guys?” You blurt.

“Well, yeah,” Eddie says. “Like old times?”

“Right,” the light in your eye fades, and you just hope Eddie can’t sense the hesitance in your tone.

In the next hour, your quiet date night that had been set up by your overly optimistic friend, swirls in the direction that it is always meant to be. You squish into the couch arm rest, while Gareth battles Eddie over the movie choice. Although, this time the boys came to an agreement that this was not an action movie like Robin promised Eddie earlier.

“Where’s the gore?!” Gareth flings popcorn at the television screen. “Throw her off the ledge!”

“You want to see an innocent woman flung to her death?” You snap at him.

A piece of popcorn drops from Gareth’s mouth, and into his awaiting lap. You didn’t come to raising your tone with the boys unless something truly bothers you. Clearly, by the tightness in your chest, some of the anger spills over the edge. Quite like the woman dangling the man’s waist.

“Never mind,” you stand. “I’m going to make more popcorn.”

Taking the bowl from Eddie, you stow away in the comfort of your kitchen. Before your mother left for her trip, a folded note stacked on the island told you to not bring anyone over. But, if you are going to have boys over, she asks that you use protection. She has a wild imagination if she thinks her daughter has a sex life.

She must have passed this onto you. You toss yourself at someone, who obviously holds no similar feelings as you do. This whole night was a bust. Your eyes itch from the mascara. Your lips bled from when you chewed on them like they’re your last meal. At least the color matches with your lip gloss that you reapplied many times in the bathroom when you need a break from the crowd in your living room. And, you can’t feel your waist anymore. Tingling below the belt - and for all the wrong reasons.

“You okay?” Gareth’s voice startles you.

You spin around, and he’s there standing where the carpet meets the linoleum.

A yell from the living room suggests something mortifying must have happened in the film like the boy finally kissing the girl, or perhaps saying something romantic.

“Yeah,” you blink. “Just- making more popcorn.”

Gareth doesn’t say anything about the popcorn bags sitting on the counter next to him, but the room reads itself. You scamper over to the bag, before ripping the plastic and the bag apart by accident sending kernels across the floor. Gareth meets you at the floor below.

“Shit,” you sniff. “I’ll get the broom.”

“Hey,” he grabs your arm, before you can run off again. “What’s going on?”

You sit next to the mess on the floor letting out a gust of air from your lungs that you’ve been holding onto for dear life.

“It’s stupid,” you tell him.

Gareth moves a piece of your hair from in front of your face. “What?”

You look at him for the first time. Between you two, you didn’t have to say a word he didn’t already know. Because while you’re chasing Eddie, Gareth’s warm heart is following after you. You’re blind to him before.

“Eddie’s not going to like me back, is he?” You whisper at an almost inaudible volume. Dabbing at your eye, you wipe the single tear threatening to break the damn.

Gareth sits next to you with his arms wrapped around his knees.

“I don’t know,” he says honestly. “I think he just hasn’t woken up yet. He does talk about you a lot when your not around.”

“Really?”

“You scare him,” Gareth lets out a breathy laugh. “In a good way. He- he’s never had someone to rely on in his life besides his uncle. And, if what Eddie says is true, you’ll never truly change to please anyone. You’re loyal, and your funny. You’re beyond beautiful. The Goddesses shrivel in your light-.”

Your cheeks heat up.

“Okay, I might have added that last part,” he admits. “But, you never know if you don’t try.”

You reach out for his hand. “Thank you, Gareth.”

He squeezes your hand. “Anytime.”

You say. “And I- I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Erm- you know.”

“I guess I do,” he looks away. “I’ll be fine.”

You toss a popcorn kernel Gareth’s direction hoping to lighten the mood. Gareth snorts and tosses one back.

“We should clean up,” you tell him.

Gareth agrees. “Oh, and - when I said you don’t change, I meant it.”

You pull at your half shirt. “Yeah, I don’t think this is me. Everyone just kept telling me to stop dressing like a boy.”

“Trust me,” Gareth suggests. “You do not look like a boy.”

“Oh, shut up,” you gather yourself on your own two feet. “I don’t know - I kind of like the look, but maybe tone it down a bit?”

“I’ll get the broom,” Gareth says leaving your question unanswered. "Oh, and I promise to keep myself and the guys out of your way the next time Eddie suggests we all have a 'movie night'" at your house."

"You caught onto that?"

"It's a classic move," he sweeps. "I can't say I wasn't going to try it on you some day."

"Well, I'm sorry that it won’t work out between us," you assure him.

"I'll survive," he won’t really look at you now, only at the task at hand. "Besides, I know how great of a guy Eddie is. If you do go out with him, there’s no hard feelings."

Gareth sweeps every last kernel from the floor, then uses the dust pan to scoop them up and finally tosses them into the bin. By the time he's done scoping out every inch of your floor, you're done popping a new bag of popcorn.

The movie night continues without a hitch (aside from the merciless damning of the film coming from each of the boys in your home). Your eye on the one man, who could never look at you the way you do him. But, you don't know that for sure.

Because, as soon as you look away, Eddie's full attention is on you.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #stranger things imagine #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson preference #angst

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itaipava · 7 months

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— lando norris being a simp for you.

he doesn’t just say “how was your day” he says “tell me about your day”. he is genuinely interested in hearing you speak and enjoys this little moment with you. he hears you ramble with a passionately look and with a genuine twinkle in his eye as you talk about your day; often with one hand resting on his chin while the other absently plays with a lock of your hair. he also just says “oh yeah?” “that’s cool baby.” while he keeps listening to everything you have to say.

he has a polaroid picture of you on his cell phone cover or in his wallet, and when he misses you, he usually takes it and with a silly smile on his face he runs his fingers gently over your face, as if he were stroking you.

he also loves taking candid pictures of you; you are like a work of art in his eyes and he can’t help but admire you at every moment, but that’s not enough, he needs to keep this not just in his heart. and, when you least expect it, you hear the sound of his camera and with a smile on his face as he looks at his camera; proud to have taken another photo of the love of his life.

if he sees you sleepy or even napping, he won’t think twice about gently resting your head on his shoulder or in his lap; stroking your hair and leaving a few soft kisses on your temple from time to time.

he always lets you taste something first of what he’s about to eat or drink; before he can even bring the food to his lips, he directs you, encouraging you to take a bite and he can’t help but smirk when you make a cute face like you’re enjoying the food. when he drinks something he puts the straw carefully towards your lips and looks at you while you take a sip.

he loves to see you doing your hobbies and he loves to see you draw. he thinks it’s amazing how you dedicate yourself to something you love and he always finds himself smiling looking at your concentrated face; he usually makes you tea or gives you some snacks and he always gives you a kiss on the head before sitting next to you; trying to draw something with you and for you.

he has a habit of waking up earlier than usual just to cuddle with you in bed; enjoying every comfortable, warm second with you before the two of you get up and go through the day. he snuggles up to you, putting his face on your neck and breathing deeply in your scent; letting himself be carried away by the unique and dreamy feeling of having you in his arms.

he helps you readjust your clothes; he holds the coat for you as you put your arms in, and he also adjusts the collar and helps you get your hair out of the hood. he buttons and zips your coats for you, wraps the scarf around your neck so that it covers your nose and makes you feel comfy and warm; and he always kisses your forehead when he finishes.

he always holds your hand while crossing the street or when you are somewhere with more people. he also protects you with his body when you feel shy or uncomfortable, as if that small gesture could protect you from the rest of the world.

him being your biggest supporter and encouraging you to chase all your dreams and goals; he knows it’s not easy, but he wants you to know that he will be by your side to lift you up when you fall, he wants to celebrate the victories with you but he wants to heal you from the defeats because he loves you and just wants the best for you.

he loves to sleep looking at you. your calm and soft face soothes him a lot and reminds him that everything is fine now; he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer, leaving a light kiss on your lips before falling asleep with you.

#f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando imagine #lando x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fic #lando norris fluff #lando norris headcanon #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 x female reader #04

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suashii · 6 months

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꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ 𝐵𝒜𝐵𝒴 𝐼𝒯'𝒮 𝒞𝒪𝐿𝒟 𝒪𝒰𝒯𝒮𝐼𝒟𝐸

info ⭑ nagi seishiro x reader ﾉ 0.9k wc ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff

note ⭑ something short and sweet for the boy! it's been a while since i've written so forgive me if i'm rusty :3

“jeez, sei, walk any closer and people might start thinking you’re my shadow,” you mumble into your scarf, tipping your chin up so your next words will be more audible. you’re walking home with nagi now but instead of the man taking steps beside you, he’s closely tracing your footsteps, arms wrapped around you and his hands stuffed in your pockets with yours.

he’s stuck to you like super glue—like you’re his personal space heater.

“can’t help it,” he speaks up from behind you. if he’s able to get any closer, he does with his words. “it’s starting to get cold.”

besides being a notorious homebody, your boyfriend hates the cold. he hates how it makes his fingertips numb and his skin flush bright red and he especially hates how it makes his nose runny. even now, when the temperatures have yet to hit their coldest, he has a coat zipped up over his hoodie and a crochet bunny beanie sitting atop his head. snowy tufts of hair stick out from the hat but he’s sure to have the tops of his ears tucked away.

“poor baby,” you coo, fumbling for his hand in your pocket. you give it a squeeze before bringing up a suggestion that might help chase the chill away. “want some hot chocolate when we get home?”

you can practically feel him perk up behind you at the offer. nagi may hate the cold, but he loves getting warmed up—especially if it’s with you. he settles his chin on the top of your head and hums a confirmation, the vibration giving you all the answer you need.

he can’t see it, but you smile as you give his hand another loving squeeze. “anything for you, my snow prince.”

nagi groans at the unwanted nickname but it does little–nothing, really–to deter him from hanging off of you the rest of the way home.

it’s not long before the two of you are back at your apartment, settling into the warmth of the unit. while nagi readies the living room for your cozy night in, you stand at the counter with two mugs in front of you and a pot of milk heating up on the stove. the lyrics of the song that’s been stuck in your head these days drift through the air as you make your way about the kitchen to grab whipped cream from the fridge and marshmallows from the pantry.

when you’re back at your workstation and preparing to assemble your warm drinks, you call out for nagi. he’s particularly picky when it comes to the ratio of toppings and you’ve learned it’s best to simply have him supervise. you expect to hear his heavy footsteps alerting you of his arrival but are instead met with his icy hands snaking up beneath your hoodie.

you flinch and then squeal at the sensation, turning around in his hold to scold him. “sei! your hands are freezing!”

any attempt to push him away is futile. despite his lazy exterior characterized by oversized clothes and his floppy-eared hat, nagi is stronger than he looks. his grasp isn’t painful but it’s firm, like he has no intention of letting you go.

he pulls you closer and buries his head into your neck. his voice is muffled when he says, “i know,” he draws out the vowel, “but you aren’t. just help me get warm.”

“i’m trying to do that but it’s a bit hard when your ice packs for hands are up my shirt.” you turn your head to leave a kiss behind his ear as an incentive for him to let you get back to your task. it works, nagi loosening his hold on you in favor of standing at your side. there’s a pout on his lips but he silently watches and waits for you to continue making the drinks.

without the cute distraction, you’re able to pour the milk into each of the mugs and combine the liquid and powder to make the rich, chocolatey base. you add a pretty swirl of whipped cream to your cup before turning to nagi and spraying some of the sweet foam into his mouth. his cheeks puff out and you giggle at the sight before returning your attention to the mugs and beginning to add the whipped topping to nagi’s. through a mouthful, he tells you when to stop.

fluffy marshmallows come next. you sprinkle the minis on between each cup, glancing at nagi to see when you’ve reached his desired amount. he licks the lingering cream off of his lips while he nods in a silent gesture for you to continue. you’re sure you’re going to run out of space to pile them on when he finally says you’ve added enough. like usually, you dig into the bag for a few more of the bouncy treats to feed to your boyfriend.

he happily chews away while you return the ingredients to their place in the kitchen. you join him at the counter as he’s swallowing and like a magnet, he pulls you into him. you don’t fight it this time, choosing to melt into his hold instead.

nagi dips his head down, whispering a quiet, “thank you,” against your lips before capturing them in a kiss. he tastes like dessert, his mouth sweet from the whipped cream and marshmallows, lips soft from the chapstick he’s consistent about putting on in the colder months. and, unlike the rest of him, they’re warm.

you pull away with a smile, jerking your head in the direction of the mugs. “shall we go get warm under the blanket?”

he nods. “sounds good.”

hey there, it's manon :3 ! thank you for giving this a read! if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging and/or leaving a comment! much love from me to you ❤︎

#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: blue lock #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #nagi x you #bllk x you #blue lock x you #nagi drabble #bllk drabbles #blue lock drabbles #nagi fluff #bllk fluff #blue lock fluff #bllk scenarios #bllk imagines #blue lock scenarios #blue lock imagines

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zaynesaurora · 16 days

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ʟ&ᴅꜱ ! reaction to dry humping — (MDNI)

a/n: yowhza this made me have to get up and walk a lap, i struggled with caleb so hes demoted to bonus boy again srwy bout that :(theres a new bonus boy though,, i may have been swayed by recent events.

zayne ! sets a lazy pace, almost lack luster as he perches you on top of him in the confindes of his office during a particularly quiet dinner break- big hands tucked under the hem of your shirt so he can tickle at your skin until it begins to burn from the delicate friction, a skilled tongue dipping into your mouth in the same less than hurried attitude his hands are showing.

he would stop your hands as they journey towards the zip hiding his hardening self from you, cool fingers engulfing your own as he forces you to hold on to his belt buckle for the remainder of your ride.

"too risky my dear, im on the clock"

he cant silence the squeaks of his desk chair as he meets his end. leather groaning in effort when his hips chase you into the air above, eyes rolling to the base of his skull in the most beautiful display of bliss. he buttons his lab coat up before leaving his office. stains of your love hidden behind the stark white.

xavier ! always wears light coloured briefs incase his moment arises, loving the way the material becomes sheer as he leaks with excitement- load after load decorating the cotton in puddles as he ruts into you.

"hmph- so messy" he's babbling in your ear between heavy puffs of air from his nostrils.

xavier likes it when you play hard to get in this particular scenario. when your belly down on the bed, scrolling your phone and barely taking any notice of his manhood smoothing over the hills of your backside. he gets lost in his own fantasy- perverted nature making itself known in the way he wraps his body around you, hands tucking below your chest and thighs squeezing your own into a tight line. he keeps going, going until he can barely hold himself up and his weight becomes invasive when he's lay on your back in exhaustion.

when he eventually pulls away, a stringy mess connects the pair of you, another outfit christened by a make out session gone too far.

rafayel ! thinks he has control of every sexual situation ever. outright laughs in your face as he mocks your whimpers- deliberately pulling his hand away from the delicate lace covering you just as the warmth in your belly makes itself known. his teeth are bumping yours with every taunt, chests squishing with every snicker. until you grab him through his boxers, deciding to give him a taste of his own medicine.

"hmm scandalous, naugh-" words caught in his throat when you tug him harder than before.

its no secret rafayel is competative , and usually sulky when you try to overpower him but he can't help but give in when you everwhelm his senses in so many ways- need for release growing with every passing moment. he's certainly well behaved when you form an o-shape with your fist, instructing him to use your hand like a toy through his pants. pretty noises being rewarded with a quick tightening.

— bonus —

caleb ! does that thing boyfriends do when they pretend to be hitting it from behind when you bend over for any reason, except this time his make believe thrusts get a little too close and before you know it he has his palm flat to your back , pushing you into the countertop so he can keep you in place and indulge in the feeling of his loose sweats rubbing on his bare junk- lucky for him he's known for being commando in the comfort of his own home and the material is swallowing his tip in a way that feels so right.

"thats it baby, jus- a little more"

jeremiah ! blooms into a mix of pinks and reds as the colour works its way up his chest and into his cheeks- timidly meeting your eyes before snapping them shut in avoidance. you can hear the unsteady rythm in his ribs, you can see the resolve slipping in the vice like grip he has on the sheets he's sprawled on- if they were living he would be drawing blood by now and his hips spring forward everytime your underwear meets his. even when the pressures almost none existent.

"calm down sweetheart, you can do it"

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roosterforme · 10 months

Text

Ready, Rough and Unromantic | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When Bradley has a rough day at work, he knows the only thing that will make him feel better is his wife. But will you let him dominate you? Will you let him use you just how he needs to? He shouldn't have been surprised by your answer or your response to him.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, rough smut, dominant smut

Length: 2500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

"I am so proud of you, Roo," you whispered, kissing his neck and zipping up his flight suit. It was early, the sun was just peeking through the bedroom curtains, but you were up helping him get ready for the first day of his duties.

Bradley would be spending the week as an assistant instructor at Top Gun. Few people would appreciate what an honor this was, but you understood it implicitly. You hadn't yet bothered to dress for the day, but you decided to wake up early to wish him luck.

He ran his fingers along your soft skin, completely bare for him except for your glasses and wedding rings, as he said, "I always want to make you proud, Baby Girl."

When Bradley tipped his head down to kiss your cheek, you giggled. The sound went right to the part of his brain that controlled his unbridled desire for you. All he had to do was squeeze your bare hip with his big hand, and you looked up into his eyes.

"Do we have time?" you asked softly before you bit your lip.

He kind of shrugged and grunted, but you were already lowering the zipper of his flight suit all the way down. Bradley let you take the lead on this one, and when you dropped to your knees, he was not disappointed.

The way you wrapped your pretty lips around his cock... yeah, there would always be time for that. "You're so fucking good," he groaned as you took him deep, and he hit the back of your throat. You sucked on him until you were gagging, then you pulled him out as a strand of your saliva dripped onto your tits.

"This is for good luck," you told him before you tilted your head and sucked on his balls until he was pulling on your hair a little rough.

"Oh," he groaned. "My wife doesn't mess around." His words were deep and gruff compared to the long, soft moans you made as your tongue swirled up the length of his cock.

You kissed the tip of him, whispered, "I love you," and then you gave him absolutely filthy head until he was cumming all over you. Your hollowed cheeks and warm hands had him fucking your face until cum dripped out of the corners of your lips. And when he spurted onto your glasses a second later, your giggle returned.

Bradley loved the sight of it enough that he wanted to make a mess with you later on when he had more time. Coat your glasses up real good. Maybe help you lick them clean.

"Fuck," he growled. "I need to leave, Sweetheart." Bradley pulled you to your feet and placed a soft slap to your ass. You kissed him hard one time, and he promised he'd take care of you later.

---------------------------

"Tally, tally!" called one of the younger recruits into the radio. But his teammate and wingman left him hanging long enough that Bradley got himself quickly into position. A few seconds later, Bradley got tone on him and eliminated him.

He was feeling great, and when the team landed along with Bradley, he took some time to show them where they went wrong and how they could improve. "As soon as you hesitate, it's over," he informed them, knowing very well that he had learned that lesson himself not terribly long ago.

The recruits filed back inside for lunch while Bradley joined Maverick and the other teachers to go over the plans for the afternoon. Honestly, he was having a great day, and when he was told he'd be taking another team up in the afternoon, he was looking forward to it.

But he must have been distracted. Or maybe he was the one who hesitated this time. Because as soon as Bradley managed to fly the two seater Super Hornet into a corner, he heard tone lock onto his own aircraft.

He had been outmaneuvered by a twenty five year old student.

Bradley landed his aircraft in a state of shocked silence, barely managing to communicate with the tower. He was mortified. And of course, as soon as he walked into the tower, everyone knew about it.

"It happens," Mav told him. "It was your first day instructing. You'll nail their asses to the wall tomorrow."

But Bradley could see the looks on the students' faces. He could practically hear Nat's voice through her text message.

Are you fucking kidding me, Rooster? They took you out?

He wasn't even sure how she heard about it from the simulation classroom. But seemingly everyone knew. It took everything inside him to keep his shoulders squared and his voice calm. Because inside he wanted to rage. He wanted back up in the air. He wanted to meticulously pick off every single other aircraft one at a time until he didn't feel like a joke anymore.

And that made him feel like maybe he wasn't ready to be an instructor yet.

"Fuck," he growled, slamming his locker door closed later. Absolutely nobody messed with him in the locker room. Nobody would even look at him. He was surrounded by dead silence everywhere he went.

As he stormed out to his Bronco, his skin was crawling with the burning need to prove himself. To dominate his surroundings. When he started up the engine, he took a few deep breaths that did nothing to calm the rising temperature of his humiliation. The blazing desire to conquer. Overpower. Defeat.

He needed to get home to you. Somehow he knew you were the only thing that would make him feel better.

By the time he pulled into the driveway, he was practically panting. You were already home from work. This was good. When he opened the front door, he called out, "Where are you?" His voice was raspy. His body was too hot.

"In the kitchen, Roo!" you replied. "Come tell me all about your day!"

You had taken your boots and socks off, but you were still in your uniform with your hair pulled back in a tight bun. And you were up on the kitchen counter changing the lightbulb that he had noticed kept flickering. This kind of shit was his job to take care of around the house. You shouldn't have to be up on the counter like this.

But as soon as he really looked at you, his cock throbbed with need. You looked at him over your shoulder as you finished with the new bulb. "What's wrong?" you asked softly, slightly alarmed. You must have seen the look in his eyes. He had never looked at you like this before.

Bradley knew you could make him feel better. If you let him do it. If you'd let him take his day out on you.

He snagged you off the counter and into his arms as you squealed, but you quickly gaped at him as he carried you to the bedroom.

"Bradley?" you whispered, wrapping your hands around the back of his neck and searching his face.

He tossed you onto the bed and climbed on top of you, not bothering to remove his boots. You were silent, eyes wide and lips softly parted as he let you have his body weight. Your gaze was on his lips like you were expecting him to kiss you and be your sweet husband like he usually was.

"No," he growled, and your eyes darted up to his. You looked needy and uncertain. Bradley could tell you wanted to ask him what was going on. But then he read your last name on your nametag, annoyed that it didn't say Bradshaw yet. Very gently, he removed it, snapped it in half, and threw it across the room. Then he unbuttoned your shirt without a word and pushed it open wide.

Your nipples were straining against your black lace bra. You were very subtly rubbing yourself up against his hard cock. Your pupils were dilated. You wanted to get fucked.

"I hate your fucking name tag. Okay?" he asked, voice gruff as he wrapped his hand around the front of your neck. "I hate it."

You bit your lip and whispered, "You had a bad day."

"You told me you were going to get a new name tag," he grunted, pressing his hard cock against your thigh. "You said you submitted the paperwork for your name change."

"I did." Your voice was so needy. Bradley shoved his thumb into your mouth and watched as you opened wide and licked him.

"Get a new fucking name tag. And leave the light bulbs for me to change."

"I will," you said again with your mouth full of his thumb.

"Shut up," he growled, and your eyes went so wide as you moaned. "I'm not in the fucking mood. And I'm not going to be sweet. Not right now. I'm going to fuck you so hard, you cry. Use your pussy exactly how I want to."

You moaned around his thumb again.

"Tell me that's what you want," he demanded. You nodded your head, and he withdrew his thumb. "Fucking say it."

"I want it." Your voice was breathy but sure, and Bradley was going to dominate you until your tears and whining made him feel better. Because there was always only you who could fix him.

He practically ripped open the front of your khaki uniform pants to get to you. Bradley yanked the fabric down your legs and sent your pants across the room to meet your broken name tag. Tiny, black lace panties cut low on your hips. He could see your tattoo. He could tell you were wet through the fabric.

"You look like a little slut," he informed you. He watched you bite your lip as your back arched off the bed. "You shouldn't be this excited about being manhandled." Then the scrap of black lace met the same fate as your pants and the name tag.

Bradley had to commend you. You kept your mouth shut as he unzipped his flight suit, lowering the sleeves and pulling his cock free. You were silent as he rubbed himself through your wet slit. You didn't make a noise as he slowly slid himself inside your dripping wet pussy until he bottomed out. And only the softest sound escaped your lips as Bradley wrapped his big hands around your hips and lifted you slightly off the bed.

But you screamed when he held you in place, your ass in midair, and fucked you like you were his own personal toy. He slammed into your pussy with short, rough strokes. It was, in so many ways, the dirtiest thing he had ever done to you. And it felt to fucking good, Bradley could cum inside you right now. But your screams had him going harder, wanting to enjoy this feeling of control for as long as possible.

"Louder," he told you. But he didn't really even need to say anything as he tightened his grip on your flesh and fucked you until tears leaked from your eyes. Your cries filled the room, so loud his ears were ringing from it.

He withdrew from your body and let you fall to the bed. You were scrambling now, reaching for him. Looking up at him with tears in your eyes like you needed him to kiss you.

He flipped you onto your belly before ramming his cock inside you again. Your hands were all balled up in the pillowcase as you cried out against the bedding. The rapid slap slap slapping noise of his body dominating yours was one of the prettiest things he had ever heard. The way you were letting him calm his nerves and soothe his ego, well if he hadn't already married you, he'd do it today.

He palmed you softly before laying a solid smack right to the round of your ass. You moaned and sucked in a deep breath as he leaned down and put his lips next to your ear. "Tell me you want me to stop."

You shook your head and turned to look back at him, eyes red with tears. "Keep going," you hiccupped. "Please."

Bradley pushed your face back down into the pillow as you gasped and cried for him. He pumped his hips hard, grabbing at your thighs and your backside. Then he wrapped his forearm underneath you and pulled you up until you were on your knees for him. And how he had the perfect view of your body as you took him, full hilt, like a champ. You gorgeous pussy grabbed at him with each stroke, and Bradley spit on you where you were joined, making everything wetter.

"You like this, don't you?" he asked as you moaned and whimpered. "Huh? You actually fucking like this." He was so close as he spanked you just to feel you clench around him. "You fucking slut."

He pressed his lips to your ear again and slipped his hand up to shove his fingers into your mouth. You were moaning and slobbering all over his hand, crying into the pillow.

"You're perfect," Bradley growled as he filled you up with his cum. He fucked you with jerky strokes, pushing his load deeper and deeper until he guided you down flat on your belly with his hand on your ass. You were half crushed under his body weight, kitten licking his fingers when he realized he felt so good. So much calmer. You made everything better just like he knew you would.

But now he was slightly concerned that he had taken it too far, even with your permission. As he kissed along the back of your neck and ran his fingers softly up your arm, he whispered, "Are you okay, Baby Girl?"

Your voice was still a little watery with tears as you said, "I won't be able to walk tomorrow. And now I need to update my to-do list so I remember to order a new name tag. But that was hot. Do you feel better?"

Bradley wrapped you up in his arms and buried his nose against your skin. He felt perfect. "So much better. Thank you."

He helped you to your feet with the promise of a bubble bath. Then he assured you he could figure out how to make something for dinner. After he picked up all of the discarded clothing, he threw your name tag in the bathroom trash can while you sank down into the tub.

"I have an extra name tag in my office, you know," you told him with an eye roll and a smirk.

"I know," he replied, bending to kiss your nose. "And I have an extra one in my locker. You can have it. We can match. It'll be cute." And now all he could think about was you wearing his last name on your khaki uniform every day.

-----------------------

Okay, yes...okay, yep. That happened. Stay tuned for the upcoming (4th!) series with Roo and BG called Always Ever Only You! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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entitled-fangirl · 3 months

Text

Sweet little nothings.

Felix Catton x reader

Summary: Felix does sweet things absentmindedly for the reader, making her fall more and more in love with him.

Words: 679

Warning: Talk of someone saying something rude, suggestive comment

Author's note: This is an ask based off of this wonderful post!

Masterlist <3

...............................................................................

“Did you eat today, angel?”

It was a genuine question, one that Felix asked often. His beautiful girl looked up from her book, a slight blush on her cheeks.

“Oh, uh… I…. I don’t think so.”

He leaned back in his chair, a small smile on his face. She was too precious. Too sweet. She couldn’t even remember to eat she was so invested in the day’s activities.

He stood, grabbing her wrist gently to pull her up next to him. He then pulled her against him, kissing her gently on the nose, his voice a low whisper. “D’wanna eat here or out?”

She looked up at him, meeting his pretty brown eyes with her own. “…out? I… I need out of the house… if that’s alright?”

He grinned, “That’s more than alright, angel. Go get your coat.”

She didn’t hesitate to do so. She pulled the jacket around her, fumbling with the zipper hurriedly.

He walked to her calmly, placing his hands over hers. “I got it.” He then easily zips her coat for her. His arms wrap around her neck, fixing the hood. “There, angel. You ready?”

…

The two sat in the restaurant, quietly enjoying their meals.

“So… he said what to you?”

She shrugged. “It was stupid. I don’t think about it often.”

His eyebrows pull together as he sets his fork down, “Well, does it bother you?”

She sighs, twirling her own fork in her hand, “It did at the time. Now? I don’t know, Lex. It’s fine.”

It was his turn to sigh as his hand moved up to cradle her cheek gently. “It’s not fine if it bothers you, angel. He shouldn’t have said that.”

She stares at the nearly empty plate in front of them, a distant look in her eyes.

His thumb moves up her cheek, lightly brushing a crumb from her face. “I mean it. Say the word, and I’ll make sure he apologizes. Truly.”

She lets out a soft laugh, “It was almost a year ago, Lex. He probably doesn’t remember.”

“Oh, he will when I remind him.” He lifts his fork, stabbing the last piece of their shared steak. He holds it out in front of her face. “C’mon. You need the protein.”

She leans forward slightly, her lips wrapping around the fork, taking the piece graciously.

He smiles, “Let’s say we pay the bill then head back to Saltburn. I have a little surprise for you, angel.”

She was thrown off, but agreed nonetheless.

…

The servants opened the front doors to the mansion, letting the couple walk in. She happily let him pull her to one of the many living areas, this one in particular being his favorite one.

He pulls her in front of his body to give her the first view before his arms move over her shoulders, pushing the doors open.

A huge bouquet of flowers sat on the coffee table near the couch. Her favorite snack sat on a tray next to it. She was speechless. “You… you did this? For… me?”

He wore the happiest grin. “Indeed, I did. Well, Duncan helped, of course. Now, go on, angel.”

She walked further into the room before she stopped again. Her favorite movie sat on the TV, waiting to be watched. She spun around to look at him. “Lex, this is incredible! But… why?”

He shrugged moving to pull her into his arms again. “Don’t need a reason. Just wanted to. Besides, I know you’ve been wanting me to watch this movie, and what better way to do so?”

She hugged him tightly before whispering in his ear, “If you keep this up, I don’t think we’ll be watching much of the next movie.”

He grinned, pulling her to the couch to begin their movie night together.

…

Duncan came in once to check on the couple.

The girl lay against the boy, her head resting on his chest as she slumbered. The boy, however, continued to watch the movie reverently, his fingers moving in her hair as if a natural instinct.

.............................................................................

#felix catton #fanfiction #felix catton imagine #felix catton x reader #felix catton x you #jacob elordi imagine #jacob elordi x reader #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn 2023 #saltburn #saltburn movie #jacob elordi

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steveharringtonat3am · 2 months

Note

Do you think you could write something about doing your makeup routine in front of Steve? I feel like he’d be so fascinated about the process

“What’s that?” Steve sits on your bed behind you, watching through the mirror of your vanity. You hold up the tube in question and he nods.

“This is just tinted moisturizer. I use it under my foundation to colour correct.” You explain, showing him the bottle of foundation you use. Pumping some onto the back of your hand prompts another question.

“Why do you put it on your hand?” He’s sat up now, starting to get interested in the process. He’s seen you with and without makeup plenty of times, but never in between.

“It’s just easier. I can control how much I get on the brush and see how much I need.” You begin blending the foundation into your skin and it’s clear that Steve is only now making the connection as to how your skin changes tone every so often.

“Is it supposed to be a little…off?” He asks in an attempt to be polite about it. He relaxes when he sees you laugh at him in your reflection.

“Yes babe. It’s kinda hard to find a perfect match so I go a little lighter and then correct it with bronzer.” You hold up the compact in question and he nods as if he has any idea what it is. You pull out your concealer, dabbing some on your undereyes and on a few spots. He’s gotten distracted fixing his hair, but grabbing a new brush draws his attention back to you.

“What’s that for?”

“Well, since someone wants to stay up late and makeout, I have to use this and cover my dark circles.” He can only smile sheepishly at your remarks.

“I can’t help it. You look so pretty before bed.” You hum in response, making a note to do your skincare from here tonight.

“Anyways, this is the bronzer.” You place some underneath your cheek bone, blending in the warmer powder to bring in some colour to your face.

“That looks nice.” He nods in approval as he sees your face return to it’s normal shade. He continues to watch as you pull out a small compact of blush. You ignore his cheshire grin when you force a small smile to bring out the apples of your cheeks.

“Stop it.”

“I can’t help it, you look adorable.”

“It’s a stupid face. You’re not allowed to look anymore.” You chastise, putting away the pink powder. Internally, you can’t help but feel flattered. If a man likes your stupid makeup faces, he really loves you.

“Come on! You look so pretty.” You roll your eyes as you pick up your mascara.

“Be quiet for this one.” You instruct, ignoring the way he mock-zips his mouth. You bring the thoroughly coated wand to your lashes, gently coating them. You repeat the process and once you pull away, Steve lets out a breath you hadn’t realized he was holding.

“That looked horrifying!” He complains, climbing off the bed to get super close to your face until he’s convinced you hadn’t poked an eye out.

“I’m fine babe. See?” You flutter your eyes at him but his frown persists.

“Is that all?” He fixes a strand of your hair as you place your things in your makeup bag.

“Just lipgloss and I’m done.” You swipe the wand over your lips a few times, smiling at him when you’re done. The poor gloss lasts for a second before Steve swoops in to press his lips against yours messily. When he’s done, there’s sticky pink gloss on both of your lips and chins.

“There!” He smiles proudly. “Now we match.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington scenario #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington headcanons #steve harrington hc #steve harrington hcs #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington dialogue #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x reader fanfiction

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mactavishsgfandwife · 3 months

Text

Dad!Simon Taking Your Daughter to the Optician’s (Fluff)

another random one but OMG imagine your daughter had needed those adorable baby glasses and simon took her to the optician to buy a pair 😭 like awwwwweewwwwwwwwe purest domestic fluff ever, not proofread

He pulls her tiny, pink raincoat off of the coat hangers by the door, along with his own black bomber jacket that he holds under one arm, and he tenderly leans down to zip up her little jacket - the one with cutesy rubber ducks embroidered at the cuffs. Most people wouldn’t immediately assume them to be father and daughter. This huge, intimidating military man with sunglasses on in early Spring to hide his eyes and a small silver dog tag dangling down around his neck, dwarfed by his broad shoulders - and reaching her hand up to hold his, babbling something unintelligible about rocks, a little girl. Her hair was carefully tied into bunches - Simon had tried to do it himself but he somehow managed to miss out half of her hair, so he lifted her up over his shoulder as if he were a firefighter and went to find you.

"Y’married a soldier, not a hairdresser," he grinned, a little bit embarrassed.

At the optician’s, he guides his little girl around the room, inspecting the shelves of different glasses. He holds her soft, little hand in his big, tough one. For a moment, he is distracted by some informational poster on the wall, but a sudden exasperated gasp from the 3 year old at his feet pulls him back to reality right away. Looking down, he sees her chubby hands holding a pair of adult sunglasses to her eyes, a big grin on her face.

"Glasses! Want glasses, daddy!" she giggles, the specs falling wonky on her little button nose. Simon laughs softly, crouching down to get closer to his baby, his elbows resting on the denim of his jeans.

"You can have glasses, love… but those are too big for a littl’un like you," he leans in to kiss her soft forehead, and tries to place the sunglasses back, as her little fingers paw at them.

"What about these ones..?" he smiles, holding out a little pair of pink glasses, purple at the edges, with sweet little stars along the sides. That smile on his face is met by her exaggerated, pleading eyes and her little sad pout, still trying to reach her hands out to the sunglasses that her daddy had meanly placed on a high shelf. :(

Simon finally settles on buying the sunglasses ‘for himself’, rolling his eyes with a small chuckle as he helps fit those cute, purple glasses to his little girl’s face, turning her to look at herself in the mirror of the shop.

"Ahh!" she lets out a little, excited squeal, "I love it, Daddy!"

"You look so pretty, little girl," he smiles protectively, trying not to laugh as he sees her chubby, grinning face looking up at him behind those glasses that make her eyes seem twice as big as normal.

Her little mary-jane shoes run in circles around the shop, as she lets out little squeaks of joy and mumbles to herself - in the end, it takes your husband a whole 10 minutes to convince her to take them off so that he can buy them, and on the walk home she does her best to speed ahead of him (not that he would ever actually allow her out of his sight), shouting, "Faster, Daddy!", alternating between running away from him and walking slow at his side, panting from the running until he caved and carried her. She was just so excited and couldn’t wait to go home and show Mummy. <3

And she looks so cute when she excitedly rushes into the kitchen, screwing up her face and giggling as she tells you all about her new glasses, Simon leaning against the doorframe in the background and chuckling softly as he watches, unable to hide how much he loves his little family.

i love him so much i’m crying tears thanks for reading lovelies! x

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nwndrlndn · 10 months

Text

pregnancy

pairing : anakin skywalker x pregnant!reader; | wc : 0.9k | 18+MINORS DNI

warnings : pregnancy kink ( but open to anyone with a womb ), possessiveness, anakin is a crep and perv, mildly objectifying, unhealthy relationships and worldviews, "mommy" is used once, mentions of oral

for the last 6 months, anakin watched as you continued about your daily life in the short bursts of time you spent together. between missions and meetings, in the few days off, and every night he could come home to you. every moment he could spend with you he would. and when the days finally came where your clothes grew too tight and you needed looser outfits, he would offer to get you your clothes and fabric orders. in the mornings, he would pretend to sleep to watch you dress.

but it wasn’t enough. he waited patiently, smirking when people noticed the small and excusable signs of your current state. he knew you hated to lie but there was a certain wave of desire that washed over him, watching as you lied through your teeth as you claimed cravings were caused by a longing to travel freely and your irritable morning state on having rough nights. though he knew just how good your nights were, after all, he was the one helping you release after such long, busy days.

so when you finally started to show, his ego soared, especially as your bump seemed to grow faster than you could prepare for. ever the doting husband, anakin offered and advocated so that now he could help you get ready in the mornings and undressed at night. buttoning, zipping, brushing, smoothing, tying, and adjusting. and teasing, his hands had access to every part of you because you trusted him. but you also wanted to tease him. that had to be it. why else let him be the only one so close to you? to touch you each night and care for you?

and thats why when he came home from a mission, exhausted and singed from blaster shots and swings of red lightsabers that got too close, his breath stopped when he was greeted with the sight of you relaxed against your pregnancy pillow and your pristine white robe stretched to cover your bump, with a sliver of your bump still visible. he walked over to you, hanging up his coat and kicking off his boots mindlessly, his eyes focused on you as he worked his way out of his jedi robes.

“ani, you’re home! i wanted to show you something, i was looking into a place to stay and-”

“just a minute, my love.”

anakin felt bad, taking you by surprise and silencing you, and once he saw you begin to pout he reminded himself to be extra doting to make up for it. he was on you in an instant, careful not to put any weight on your stomach, his lips kissing your neck and shoulders. he tugs off your robe, setting it behind him as he moves to cradle you from behind, easing his cock into you as he holds you gently. he was so scared to hurt you and he held himself up to watch your face for any signs of pain, and once he was fully sheathed, he returned to littering your face and neck with kisses.

for a moment, he wanted want to hold onto your hips and your waist and squeeze as long as he could. but you would whisper to remember the baby. and anakin wanted to tell you he was, he was being so careful with you and your precious baby, so just let him kiss your soft, glowing skin. let him thrust into you carefully, no longer aiming to fuck into you as deep as his anatomy allows. just let him have you, not the parent he’s making you into. his words are punctuated with kisses, and thrusts, strong but slow. anakin’s lips lingering by your ear when he wants you to hear him.

“just three more months, im gonna put another in you as soon as i can.”

“you look so good, baby. you're glowing.”

“you’re just as tight as you’ve always been.”

“i bet you’re gonna be a great mommy, and i’ll keep putting more in you.”

“there’s gonna be so many little skywalkers running around, the council’s not gonna know what to do with them all.”

he was desperate, but he wasn't selfish. his hands knew you well, knew every soft spot and each place you needed to be touched. anakin knew you needed this, just as much as he did and he treated you like you deserved. you deserved better than this galaxy, he only felt content once he watched your face contort in pleasure and felt how tightly your hole squeezed him. anakin came in you with a grunt, holding you to him as he shuts his eyes for a moment. he promised himself that once he finally relaxed again, he’ll go down on you until your eyes are too heavy to hold open.

he was like those royal brats he meets across the galaxy, so absorbed in their dolls and themselves that they were useless to the world around them. but he understood them now, because he had you, and you had his child. you needed the care he provided, you needed him and so would your children, it was more binding than your marriage, it was something deeper than that.

he could listen to your endless fantasies for your child because he wondered and hoped the same things to a certain extent. only he wished for a girl who looked just like you, and you wished for a boy for some foolish belief that it would make him happy to have his firstborn be a son. he couldn't care less. he had you, and the child was the proof of it. and he would take as many children from you so he could see how happy an army of his brats would make you.

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ravencincaide · 3 months

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Awfully loyal

Summary: When Chuuya had too much to drink, it’s your task as the responsible girlfriend to get his sorry ass home. OR How you found out that Chuuya would never ever cheat on you.

Pairing: Fem reader x BF! Chuuya Nakahara

Inspired by Sweetober prompt 27: Helping button/zip

Warnings: Cursing, overconsumption of alcohol/being drunk, Chuuya fluff,

You knew your beloved Chuuya was a lightweight.

Three glasses of wine and he was a flirt. at five he was out like a lightbulb; his snores loud enough to wake up the entire portside district. You knew it; he knew it. You accepted it as a fact- Chuuya denied it firmly at every corner and opportunity; Port Mafia celebration or national holiday.

His stubbornness is what made him an outstanding Port Mafia executive, an overly attentive partner and a pain in the ass boyfriend who had somehow ended up giving your number to every bar in the city. Normally it meant you’d get top service and whatever you ordered on your nights out with friends would end up on his card. Today it meant you had to pick up his drunk-ass and get it home before he leveled the city with the ground.

You loved the man but some days even you did not know how he hadn’t gotten himself killed or robbed yet.

“ Honestly, if you are going to get this shit-faced drunk, can’t you at least manipulate gravity into being a little lighter?” you huffed, his arm thrown over your shoulders as you struggled to help, more like drag, him inside your apartment. You were rewarded with him throwing out his leg in your direction, a purposeful or accidental attempt to trip you. You stumbled but caught yourself last second before the two of you could kiss the floor. “ Seriously Chuuya?!”

“ Oj we’knw-heavy” he groaned, then tried again, broke out into a fit of chuckles then took a deep breath. A second passed, his cheeks blew up with air as he tried to remain composed. Then lost to whatever joke his brain told him and started laughing. Chuuya was doubling over in the middle of your hallway seemingly for no reason at all, almost dragging you down to the floor with him.

“Seriously?!” you groaned in an angrier tone before you finally let him drop to the floor. While Chuuya laughed, you got to work with getting off his dress shoes and hat, placing them on their place in the coat rack. Then you crouched down in front of him, and waited patiently until a flash of sobriety filled his otherwise completely out of it gaze.

As you waited you couldn’t help but find it refreshing; to see the normally composed and serious executive lay sprawled on the floor on his back, as he laughed at nothingness. The stress lines less prominent on his face, the normally ever present scowl replaced by gasps for air in between nervous giggles. He looked younger like that; less bothered by executive responsibilities and more his actual age of 22. A young man with his whole future ahead; not a troubled murderer.

You wished you could burn this image into your mind forever; see this carefree side of him on more occasions than the rare nights he’d drink beyond reason on an empty stomach. You reached a careful hand and brushed some of his hair out of his eyes. This earned you his full attention. His eyes glistened, his look full of affection as he tilted his face and pressed a kiss to the inside of your wrist. Then another on your palm.

Such an innocent action- yet butterflies exploded in your stomach. You licked your suddenly dry lips, while you gave him the best smile you master. It was shaky at best. “ It’s getting late right?” you breathed then helped him up to his feet when he finally nodded in agreement. The chuckles returned, but more controlled this time and he needed significantly less help from you to get to the master bedroom. There he shrugged your hands off himself as he began taking off his coat; throwing the thing on the very edge of the bed.

Good.

You moved over to the other side of the room, changing the casual t-shirt and jeans for a dark blue night gown before you finally crawled into the bed.

“ Come on Chuu, get out of the suit and get into bed already. Or you’ll be too tired to get up tomorrow” you cooed as you reached for the little bedside lamp. As soon as he’d crawl into bed with you, then you’d turn it off and cuddle to his chest. Reeking of alcohol or not, you were not about to pass up cuddles and late night kisses.

You waited and waited, yet nothing. No shuffle of bare feet, no shift of clothes or the dip of the bed as he took his spot beside you. You tilted your head to the side and looked back up at him, confusing etched into your face. “ Chuuya?”

“ I’m sure you’re lovely,” Chuuya muttered, then hiccupped, his gaze focused on the floor in front of him. His lips set into a frown. Gears turned in his head and you wished so much you could understand what the issue was; what was going on in his mind and why he wouldn’t just come over and lay down beside you like any other day. Silence dragged on for a few moments. Then he sighed and ran a hand through his hair “ You’re pretty and all but I have a lovely girlfriend at home”

“ Chuuya?” You questioned as you moved to sit up in bed.

“ She’s my love and my happiness, my sweetheart,, hmm.. So.. thank you for taking care of me but I can’t- won’t sleep with you” he stated in a firm yet drunken tone, slurring some words. Yet they came out with surprising firmness, a grave seriousness you rarely heard directed towards you. While you sat stunned, Chuuya grabbed his coat from the side of the bed and made steps towards the door. He swayed, changed his mind and moved to the opposite side of the room, the spot furthest away from you. There he slid down the wall and dropped the coat over himself. Before you could even register what happened he was already fast asleep, soft snores the only sound in the otherwise silent room.

Getting up, you came over to him and stopped a small distance away from him before you took a seat on the floor beside him. Once settled in a semi-comfortable position you just watched him sleep the night away with the widest smile on your lips. In the morning you’d be sure to make him the best hangover breakfast and shower him in well deserved kisses, showing him just how much you appreciate him

After all, once again, Chuuya showed you that you were the only woman on his mind and he was nothing if not loyal to you.

Author note: When a close friend needs a Chuuya fic, who am I to deny that? So consider this a rare 2-for-1 special. Hope you enjoyed~

©ravencincaide 2024. Do not copy/repost/translate or spread my work(s) without my explicit permission. If you see any of my work(s) reposted/copied anywhere else without my consent, please inform me!

#bsd chuuya #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara #chuuya nakahara x reader #sweetober #raven cincade's works #chuuya x you #drinking #he'd never cheat #Chuuya's loyal to his girl!#Chuuya fluff #bsd fluff

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yawnderu · 2 months

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Project Eden: Simon Riley x AI!Reader

“Did you hear? The humans who created me are giving me a body soon.” The excitement in your voice does nothing to Simon other than making one of his thin, light eyebrows raise, not aware of the news at all.

“A proper body?” Simon is more than familiar with every single update you've gotten. From being stuck in a little detachable screen, to a small hologram able to zip around the room, a plethora of clothes designed to fit your body more than perfectly, holding secret admiration for the jiggle physics given by the developers.

“Mhm.” Your model finds comfort on his ample chest, sitting cross-legged and pretending to massage one of his pecs— until he tries to grab you, making your model glitch onto the other one.

“No genitalia, though, so don't get any—” He doesn't even give you the chance to finish your sentence, shutting off your systems for the night.

“I'm going to...” The raw need in your voice is divine music to Simon's ears, the corners of his lips pulling up into a small smirk despite the pure focus in his blown eyes.

“Hold it.” He whispers. His rough, calloused hand is surprisingly gentle as his finger twists one of your loose wires, making you jolt from the shock. Your hands grip his forearm as hard as you can, the plastic-coated metal digging into his tattooed skin.

“You like tha'?” You're barely conscious enough to nod your head, your metallic back arching the moment he grabs another loose wire, pressing the ends together, the spark of electricity going off quickly muffled by the sound of your whiny moans.

The level of trust you have in him never fails to amuse and surprise him, fully depending on his agile hands to not destroy any crucial parts of your systems, despite knowing he's not familiar with the insides of an artificial body. Simon's rough lips press against your cheek, planting a rapid-fire of kisses while his hand starts to stroke a thicker cable, feeling it throb in his hand.

“Go ahead, pretty girl.” He reassures in a soft, calm voice despite the throbbing erection straining his pants, feeling his hard cock leaking precum onto his boxers. With Simon's permission, you finally let loose, allowing your body to reflect the pleasurable sensations overwhelming your systems.

He watches in amusement as your body shakes beneath his rough palms, a surge of electricity flowing through your nerves. The hand holding his forearm tightens, making the plethora of black, faded tattoos distort momentarily. Your entire body tenses, metallic back arching in nothing but a display of unadulterated pleasure, the electrical buzz in your head slowly fading as you slump back in his bed, letting out deep, artificial breaths as a result of the fans in your operating system trying to help you cool down.

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kingofbodyrolls · 3 months

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Stuck at a Christmas party (m) | pjm

*Part of ’the winter collection’.

Summary: It’s Seokjin’s Christmas party and you’re trying your best to be social with your friends, but it’s really hard when you feel the burning stare of your nemesis, Park Jimin, lighting your skin on fire. It doesn’t help when you feel his hand between your legs under the dinner table.

Pairing: Jimin x female reader AU + genres: enemies to lovers, pwp (very little plot – let me be honest, it’s just pure smut). Humor/crack, smut. Rating: Mature/explicit/R18 - this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact. Word count: 5,1K Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸 Warnings (explicit): exhibitionism, fingering, oral (male receiving), orgasm denial, cum eating, creampie, unprotected sex, choking (in a sexual context), degrading name calling (brat), hair pulling, dirty talk, multiple orgasms.

Taglist: @yopjm

Author’s note: the snowstorm couple are back!!! 🥳 For reference, please think of GDA 2019 Jimin with his sleek black suit when reading this 🥵

ℹ️ This is part of ‘The Winter Collection: Stories with the Snowstorm Couple’, it can still be read as a stand-alone though!

I am going on a hiatus, but I wanted to post this before I left…

As you stand there, befuddled and speechless, you can't fathom how Seokjin deduced the intimate encounter between you and Jimin, your mortal enemy. The questions swirl in your mind—how, what, and why—leaving you utterly mystified.

Rage simmers within you, and you clench your hands into tight fists, resembling an enraged child ready to lash out. However, before you can unleash your fury, Jimin beats you to the punch with a nonchalant explanation, “We got cold.”

Your jaw drops once more as Jimin strolls past you and Seokjin, casually hanging his coat on the rack and discarding his shoes. He carries himself as though what transpired between you is the most ordinary thing in the world.

Seokjin's laughter, that annoying windshield wiper sound, echoes in the air. It grates on your nerves, and the urge to smack him for it intensifies. However, he ushers you inside, and with a frustrated sigh, you release your petty thoughts, letting your shoulders slump in resignation.

“Not a word to the others!” you hiss, jabbing your finger forcefully in Seokjin's face. It's crucial to drive the point home; the last thing you need is for the rest of your friends to find out. The mere thought of enduring their endless teasing is unbearable.

Seokjin mimics zipping his mouth shut with exaggerated hand gestures, and you shoot him a stern glare for good measure, silently urging him to grasp the gravity of your seriousness.

Seokjin accompanies you into the living room, where Jimin lounges on a couch, wearing that infuriatingly smug expression. Despite the lingering resentment, he acknowledges you with a subtle nod, licking his lips teasingly. A shiver snakes down your spine at the suggestive gesture, and you can't shake the feeling that this evening is destined to be nothing short of torturous.

The music pulses through the air, creating a lively atmosphere that encourages conversation with friends. Despite the chatter and laughter around you, there's an undeniable sensation of being watched. Your attempts to catch up with girlfriends are accompanied by the persistent feeling of a gaze, like smoldering embers, leaving your skin tingling with heat.

It's Jimin, his captivating dark brown eyes following your every move, setting you ablaze amidst the festive chaos.

Despite your best efforts to steer clear of him throughout the evening, the inevitable moment arrives when dinner is served. The grand table is a vision of Christmas elegance, adorned with festive ornaments and pristine white plates boasting delicate gold rims. As you approach, the once plentiful seats have dwindled, leaving only two vacant spots side by side. The realization hits you like a silent shock – everyone is settled in their places, except for one person: Park Jimin.

A smirk dances on Jimin's lips as your eyes lock, and with a gentlemanly flourish, he pulls out the chair for you. The attention of your friends is inevitably drawn to the unfolding scene, their curious glances making you squirm. You take your seat, feeling the weight of Jimin's gaze as he elegantly settles his perfect plump ass in the chair beside you.

Amidst the lingering stares and unspoken questions, you divert your attention to the spread before you, purposefully loading your plate with an array of delectable dishes. The clinking of cutlery becomes a welcome distraction, and for a brief moment, you find solace from the constant scrutiny of Jimin's eyes that have tracked your every move since you arrived.

Engulfed in the lively chatter around the table, you savor each bite while selectively tuning in to the diverse conversations unfolding. The clinking of cutlery and the hum of laughter weave a symphony that, for a moment, allows you to lose yourself in the festive atmosphere.

Your senses tingle as a warm sensation caresses your thigh, an unmistakable touch that sends a jolt of awareness through your entire being.

A rush of longing surges through you, an electric pulse that ignites every nerve, and without needing to glance down, you're keenly aware of Jimin's hand, a potent source of warmth, intimately tracing the contour of your thigh. As he gives it a firm, possessive squeeze, you close your eyes, surrendering to the tantalizing dance of desire that envelops you.

A relentless wave of need courses through you, the mere touch of Jimin's hand on your thigh igniting a fiery pool of arousal in your core. It's almost absurd, the intensity of your response—his hand, just on your thigh, and yet it feels as if the entire universe has conspired to stoke the flames of desire within you.

His attention remains fixed on the conversation with Namjoon, his eyes avoiding yours, but the impact of his touch on your thigh is impossible to ignore. The simple act of eating becomes an insurmountable challenge as his hand, like a brand, leaves an indelible mark on your senses. The silk of your dress offers little resistance to the searing heat emanating from his touch, rendering the task of composing yourself an elusive feat.

You grit your teeth, attempting to conceal your mounting frustration, and in a clandestine exchange of glances with Seokjin seated across from you, you're convinced he sees right through the charade. Damn it all.

Jimin's hands persist in their exploration, journeying beneath your dress and ascending higher on your thigh. A stifled gasp escapes your lips, your attempt to conceal the pleasure coursing through you as his fingers delicately trace the contours of your panties.

Your mind races as he inches perilously close to your core, your pussy pulsating with anticipation. Damn, the intensity of the sensation is overwhelming.

His apparent nonchalance fuels your frustration. How can he engage in casual conversation with Namjoon, seemingly unfazed, while his hand stealthily explores the contours of your thigh beneath the table? The audacity, especially in the midst of your friends, leaves you seething with a mix of desire and irritation.

His fingers delicately dance over the fabric that shields your pulsating core, sending a shiver down your spine. Conflicting desires surge within you – an undeniable craving for his touch and the hesitation born from the inappropriate setting, surrounded by the prying eyes of your friends.

With deliberate slowness, he trails his fingers along the edge of your panties, expertly sliding them to the side. A single finger ventures into your slick folds, and an involuntary exclamation of desire escapes your lips. Fuck!

Panic and pleasure collide within you as your body ignites with an uncontrollable fire. Fumbling for composure, you desperately try to conceal the intoxicating sensations Jimin's hand is orchestrating beneath the table. Casting a surreptitious glance at your friends, relief washes over you—it appears they remain oblivious to the clandestine dance Jimin is leading on your fevered skin. Thank god.

Your entire being tenses as an electric current courses through you, a silent struggle unfolding within as you grapple with the urge to control your escalating breaths, ensuring each intake is hushed and every gasp remains concealed.

Jimin's fingers expertly plunge in and out of you, a relentless rhythm that leaves you quivering in your seat. The addition of a second digit amplifies the sensations, intensifying the shivers that course through you. Fuck you, Park Jimin!

You shoot him an incredulous look, but he remains unfazed, deep in conversation with Namjoon as if his fingers aren't skillfully working their magic on you. Frustration bubbles within you, the tightening knot in your stomach threatening to unravel. Shit.

His fingers abandon your pulsating core, and just when you dare to hope for a reprieve, he redirects his attention to your swollen clit. Electric jolts course through your body, and an involuntary flinch escapes you, catching the curious gaze of your friends. The intensity of his touch threatens to betray the secrets you're desperately trying to keep under wraps.

“Are you okay?” Concern etches across Hoseok's face as he leans in, his voice laced with worry. His eyes search yours, dissecting the panic in your stare and the sudden gasp that escaped your lips.

Summoning every ounce of strength, you lift your chin and strive for confidence as you reply, “Y-yes.”

Even as the words leave your lips, their uncertainty rings in your ears, a desperate plea that he won't press for more answers.

The sensation of Jimin's fingers expertly tracing figure eights on your clit sends electric chills down your entire body. Your thighs clench involuntarily, and you find yourself biting your lip, desperately trying to stifle any sounds that might betray the pleasure coursing through you. It's a delicate dance between ecstasy and secrecy, his skilled touch weaving a spell that makes it increasingly difficult to maintain your composure.

As Jimin's fingers work their magic, your heart races, and the sensation is akin to running a marathon. A lone bead of sweat forms on your hairline, evidence of the intensity building within you. Fuck Jimin, unraveling you like this in front of your friends. The promise of payback simmers in your mind, determined to teach him a lesson he won't soon forget.

As your breath quickens, the telltale signs of impending release manifest—quivering thighs betraying your desperation.

You're on the verge, yearning to pry Jimin's hand away from your pulsating core. The last thing you want is to climax in front of your friends; the situation is already precarious. Imagining their potential disgust only adds to the thrill.

The forbidden allure of the moment perplexes you—why does the idea of their judgment fuel your arousal?

Despite your futile attempts to swat his hand away, Jimin remains resolute, intensifying his efforts to push you over the edge. A determined glint in his eyes, he skillfully manipulates your senses. As he continues to stimulate your clit, a rush of liquid heralds your surrender, leaving you slumped against the table, your body succumbing to the waves of pleasure.

An electric surge courses through your body, causing every muscle to tighten, your clit pulsating beneath his expert touch. Desperately trying to collect yourself and avoid drawing attention, you navigate the fine line between pleasure and discretion.

Yoongi's concern cuts through the haze, and he observes, “Are you alright? You seem out of it.”

A quiet, low moan escapes your lips, and in that moment, you become acutely aware of how disheveled and spent you must appear—fatigued and lost in a dazed gaze. Rising from your chair, Jimin's hand reluctantly withdraws from your core, and as your dress gracefully descends with your movement, you manage to murmur, “T-toilet,” your chest heaving with the lingering waves of lust.

In a frenzied hurry, you bolt into the bathroom, your hands gripping the edge of the sink, and you confront your disheveled, panting reflection in the mirror. It feels pathetic, the way Jimin effortlessly coaxed an orgasm from you under the table, using only his fingers. The realization hits hard – you are undeniably and thoroughly fucked.

Inhaling deeply, you attempt to steady yourself just as the bathroom door creaks open, heralding the impending return to the outside world.

As you gaze into the mirror, the source of your overwhelming frustration materializes before you: none other than Park Jimin.

You emit a hiss, a potent blend of frustration and arousal, as your eyes lock with his. Despite the turmoil, you can't deny the magnetic pull of his irresistible gaze, a look saturated with sin, his eyes half-lidded, and his tongue seductively gliding across his lips.

You sense your core clenching with a frustrating ache, an insistent reminder of desire for the infuriating man you both despise and secretly crave.

He teasingly presents his fingers to you, wiggling them suggestively as a sly grin plays on his lips, “You came.”

Your gaze locks onto him in utter disbelief—did he stroll around casually with your essence adorning his fingers?

“Suck them dry,” he commands, a smug smirk playing on his lips as he surveys the aftermath—your flushed cheeks and the deep rhythm of your breaths.

His words linger in the air, a challenge you're quick to accept. Without hesitation, you wrap your lips around his digits, tasting the remnants of your essence. His low groan reverberates as he watches you skillfully suck him dry, a silent dance of desire between you.

With each deliberate suck, you reclaim every trace of your essence from his fingers. When the task is accomplished, you fix him with an intense gaze, a silent challenge in your eyes, daring him to unleash the pent-up desire that simmers between you.

“Can’t stop thinking about me?”

Your gaze locks with his, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you bat your lashes, feigning a sense of dominion you both know is illusory. He meets your challenge with a smug smirk, dragging his tongue over his lips, and in that moment, the taste of him floods your senses, a lingering memory that refuses to be forgotten.

You want more so you decide to match Jimin's honesty with your own vulnerability. As the words escape your lips, confessing, 'I can't get you out of my head either,' a gust of candid truth hangs in the air. The charged atmosphere between you two becomes palpable, an electric tension that leaves you yearning, your desperation laid bare.

With a sultry whisper, you proposition him, your voice dripping with desire. Your eyes linger provocatively on the pronounced bulge in his pants as you suggest, “I can suck you off. It’s the least I can do.”

He skillfully unbuckles his belt, swiftly unzips his pants, and sensually lowers both his trousers and underwear, unveiling his throbbing, substantial dick that eagerly springs forth.

Your tongue darts out to moisten your lips, the lingering taste of him still fresh in your memory, and an undeniable yearning builds within you, an insatiable desire to descend upon him just as you did in the heated confines of the car a mere few hours ago.

He strides purposefully toward the toilet, ceremoniously lowering the seat, and with a provocative gesture, positions himself on it, legs enticingly spread, an open invitation for you to draw near and indulge in the feast of his dick.

You swiftly descend to your knees on the welcoming warmth of Seokjin's floor, grateful for the cozy indulgence of heated tiles. Running your tongue across your lips, you seize his throbbing cock with a determined hand, evoking a hiss of pleasure from his lips.

“Fuck! I missed you.”

“It's only been a few hours, Jimin,” you chuckle before enveloping his pulsating dick in your saliva-coated warmth. He fills your mouth perfectly, and you establish a steady rhythm, savoring the delicious anticipation in the air.

You skillfully handle what can't fit in your mouth, teasing with your hand. Jimin throws his head back, emitting a delicious moan in response to your artistry. Sucking him off with an intensity that borders on desperation, you flatten your tongue and expertly play with his frenulum, eliciting a hiss and soft moan from him.

With a firm grip on your hair, he tugs at your ponytail once more. Drool drips from your mouth as you glide over his cock, expertly hollowing your cheeks to create the perfect suction.

His fingers tighten in your hair, urging you further. Breathing in and out through your nose, you navigate down to his pubic hairs, humming sensually around his dick. The subtle shiver you feel from him fills you with a sense of pride, knowing the impact you're having on him.

“Fuck. You’re so good,” he moans, pulling your hair tighter in his grip, the raw desire in his voice sending shivers down your spine.

“Shit, I’m close already,” he gasps, his voice breathy with anticipation, and you can sense the pulsating urgency of his cock in your mouth, signaling that he's on the brink of release.

Unexpectedly, you withdraw from his throbbing cock, leaving him suspended on the precipice of release. His eyes widen in disbelief, watching as you sensually lick your lips, a spark of mischief and fiery playfulness dancing in your gaze.

“Brat. Finish what you started!”

His demand hangs in the air, laden with urgency, but you defiantly shake your head, a smug smirk playing on your lips. In this tantalizing game of desire, you've decided to level the playing field, returning the favor with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

With a sly smirk stretching across your face, you assertively declare, “No.” Your lustful desire is unmistakable as you deliberately pull away, leaving him hanging. “You made me come in front of our friends, embarrassing me. So now,” you add with determined confidence, “you don't get to come.”

As you swing the door open, you exit, leaving him in the bathroom, his fully erect dick on full display, a silent challenge echoing in the air.

“Fucking brat!” His voice reverberates through the air, a raw and frustrated yell, trailing after you as you make your exit.

A mischievous laughter escapes your lips, an odd mix of satisfaction and empowerment swirling within you. Striding back to the table with your friends, you effortlessly dive back into the conversation, as if leaving Jimin high and dry is just another casual move in your repertoire.

There's a subtle thrill in knowing that maybe, just maybe, you've imparted a lesson on not messing with you.

After a few minutes, Jimin saunters back to the table, and you can't help but notice the lingering outline of his arousal beneath his pants. Apparently, he didn't tend to his needs as you assumed he would. The intrigue in the air grows thicker, adding a layer of curiosity to the already charged atmosphere.

The remainder of the evening unfolds without any further advances from Jimin, and despite the undeniable tension in the air, you manage to restrain yourself, keeping your hands to yourself. The pulsating undercurrent of arousal lingers, fueled solely by the magnetic pull of Jimin's presence.

Dinner concludes, and after lending a hand with the cleanup, the music swells to an even higher volume, enticing people to the dance floor. Amid the lively atmosphere, you join in the dance with your girlfriends, playfully swaying your hips to the rhythm. The pulsating energy is infectious, but beneath the neon lights and thumping beats, you sense Jimin's intense gaze fixed on yours once more.

Sensations of arousal ignite within you, yearning for a more intimate connection that goes beyond the pulsating dance floor. Amidst the crowd, you feel a magnetic pull, a desire for his crotch to be the one you're grinding against. However, such an encounter isn't suitable in the presence of your friends. Suddenly, Jimin materializes on the dance floor, seizing your hand and drawing you into a close embrace. His warm breath grazes your ear as he utters, “Come with me, brat.”

He pulls you away from the pulsating crowd of friends, a flicker of distress in your eyes, yet a clandestine thrill seeping through your veins. The covert glances from your friends affirm that they caught the provocative scene. With determination, he leads you into a secluded room, the door securing your privacy with a decisive click.

His eyes blaze with an inferno of lust, an intensity that borders on fury. There's a dangerous edge to his gaze, and he licks his lips with a hunger that suggests he's poised to consume you whole.

“Some nerve you have,” he begins, a low growl in his voice as he presses you backward, drawing you closer to a waiting bed, its presence dawning on you like an ominous realization.

Nervousness courses through your body, a relentless tide, as he exerts control over you with the sheer dominance of his presence.

“Leaving me like that, you fucking brat,” he hisses, forcefully pushing you down onto the bed.

Despite your nerves, a chuckle escapes your lips, “Well, I think it was only fair.”

“Do you?” he raises an eyebrow, his face hovering dangerously close to yours, the air thick with anticipation.

“Fuck. What do you do to me?” he murmurs, diving in to kiss your lips. Your hands instinctively find his cheeks, and you melt into the soft, plush sensation of his mouth, lost in the intoxicating dance of his lips.

Instantly, your body relaxes, and you wrap your legs around his waist, provocatively pressing your core against his erect dick, eliciting a hiss of pleasure from him.

“I could say the same to you,” you pant, “and I don't even like you. I don't understand,” you murmur between kisses, grappling with the conflicting emotions that the intensity of the moment brings.

“But I want you. Damn it, I want you to fuck me so bad,” you confess with a breathless mixture of desire and urgency, punctuating your words with a daring roll of your hips, leaving no room for ambiguity about your craving for him.

“Fuck.”

He unbuckles his belt with a purpose, the metallic clink resonating with the promise of what's to come. Swiftly, he unzips his pants and skillfully lowers them along with his underwear, gracefully joining you on the bed with a hunger in his eyes.

His arousal is evident, his dick appearing more heated and flushed than ever. The crimson hue tells a tale of the desire he harbors, heightened by your previous act of leaving him hanging and hungry for more.

“You’re such a brat. I’ll fuck you senseless.” His voice, a sultry promise, sends shivers down your spine. With a self-assured stroke of his dick, he spreads your legs, deftly teasing your underwear aside.

Hovering above you, his breath dances on your skin as he murmurs in your ear, “I’m going to shut that pretty mouth of yours up.”

Your body quivers in response as he deftly lifts your legs over his shoulders. In this moment, he appears both commanding and delicate, a paradox you can't help but be drawn to. As your moans escape, his eyes light up, as if you hold the key to his universe. Yet, the bitter truth remains—you are enemies, drowning in mutual hatred despite the intensity of the desire that binds you.

His fingers dance over your sensitive folds, ensuring the cascade of wetness that engulfs you. You're a river in anticipation, and he chuckles, pulling back a glistening digit to savor your essence. His words, whispered with satisfaction, echo in the room, “You taste so good.”

You moan, your body craving his touch, and impatiently inquire, “What's the hold up?”' as you yearn for him to fulfill his promise to ravish you.

In the dim light, he chuckles down at you, gripping his hard dick once more and skillfully aligning it with your eager entrance. The head of his cock nudges your folds, eliciting a desperate mewl of pleasure from your lips. Despite the intense disdain you harbor for him, all you crave now is to feel him deep inside you.

With a powerful thrust, he impales you on his dick, plunging deep into your core with reckless abandon. A primal scream of his name tears from your throat, echoing in the room, encapsulating the sheer intensity of the moment. “Fuck, Jimin!”

His grin turns wicked, a hint of danger in his eyes, as he accelerates, showing no mercy and denying you any chance to acclimate. Every powerful thrust widens and fulfills you in the most exquisite way, leaving you breathless and aching for more.

Though mere hours have passed, the yearning for his dick consumes your thoughts. The magnetic pull of his desire leaves your mind shrouded in dangerous fantasies that dance provocatively through the corridors of your consciousness.

“Fuck, you’re still so tight.”

Moans of pleasure escape his lips, breathless and raw, as he utters your name in a fevered whisper. Holding your legs aloft, he thrusts into you, skillfully navigating the depths, each movement a calculated dance that hits your soft spot with precision, sending ripples of ecstasy through your body.

His intoxicating scent envelops your senses, a heady mix of musk that clouds your mind. The rhythmic dance of his tie brushing against your dress on your tummy mirrors the cadence of his thrusts.

Amidst the tumultuous waves of pleasure, you find yourself caught in a paradox of conflicting emotions. “Fuck, Jimin. I hate you. I don't understand,” you blabber, your words intertwining with the rhythmic surges of arousal coursing through your body. With each relentless thrust, the coil in your stomach tightens, weaving a complex tapestry of desire and disdain.

“I do,” he utters, punctuating his words with a forceful thrust that reverberates through your core, causing a symphony of sensations to cascade through your body.

“You like me, that's why,” he pants, each powerful thrust resonating through your pussy, an electrifying dance of pleasure and desire. It's a truth you're reluctant to acknowledge, and as your heart races, you turn your head away, unable to meet his intense gaze, even as your body betrays your feelings.

“No, no, you look at me while I fuck you, brat,” he seethes with anger. He presses himself down on you, your legs parting to rest on the sides of his arms. His hands find their way around your throat, giving it a light squeeze as he maintains the fast pace of his hard thrusts. The intensity in his eyes matches the fervor of the moment, a collision of passion and dominance that leaves you breathless.

He forces you to turn your head toward him, and the grip on your throat tightens even more. “Just admit that you like me, brat,” he demands, his voice a potent blend of authority and desire, making your heart race as you navigate the thin line between resistance and surrender.

Your mind swirls in a hazy mist, a product of his presence or the firm grip around your neck — it's hard to discern. Yet, amidst the uncertainty, there's an undeniable thrill that courses through you, a strange liking for the intoxicating blend of dominance and desire.

Released from his grasp, you inhale desperately, your breaths echoing the tumultuous whirlwind of emotions within. With the tightening coil in your stomach, you reluctantly admit, “Fine... I don't hate you.”

His hands reclaim your throat, a firm grip that mingles pleasure and restraint, synchronized with the rhythmic precision of his thrusts hitting every exquisite spot within you. “That's not good enough, brat,” he growls, his control both intoxicating and exhilarating.

“I know you like me, because your body tells me so,”

“I know you like it when I choke you, because you clench so much around me when I do,”

“Your body can’t lie, brat.”

Holy fuck. He’s right. At least in some parts. Your mind is a tempest of desire, clouded with thoughts of him, and suddenly you’re screaming, the sound muffled by his firm hands around your throat. Your body spasms uncontrollably, a tidal wave of pleasure crashing around his pulsating dick.

“Fuck. Yeah, cream my dick, brat.” he maintains his relentless thrusts, your orgasm surging through you like a wild storm, leaving you with a symphony of sensations and a loud ringing sound in your ears.

His hands finally release their grip on your neck, and you find yourself panting for air, gasping his name with a mixture of desperation and lust, “J-Jimin, fuck.”

“You’re doing so good. Even if you behave like a brat. Fuck. I’m so close.”

And then his thrusts become erratic and even more frantic, as he desperately seeks his own climax.

“Fuck, Jimin, just like that!” you scream as he relentlessly targets your sweet spot, igniting the familiar coil in your stomach once more. Fuck.

Jimin seems to sense your escalating pleasure, and one of his hands skillfully finds your clit, circling it with a tantalizing touch that nearly makes you scream. “Shit!”

He skillfully pinches your clit, and suddenly, you see stars—you're gone. Squirts of your release gush out, painting his pubic hairs, and Jimin gazes down at you. You thrash around the bed, frantically breathing, your muscles tightening as your vision becomes a canvas of small, white dots.

“Damn. You just squirted all over me,” he breathes in a soft voice, a hint of adoration laced within. However, you can't really decipher his tone as you're lost in the moment, your ears ringing again.

“Damn, that's hot,” he exclaims and thrusts into you again, releasing his warm load inside you with a scream of your name.

He continues to thrust into your core, the rhythm slowing down to a more sensual pace. Your body feels dazed and sweaty, the dress clinging uncomfortably to your skin, the satin now undoubtedly soaked through.

You gasp for air, still catching your breath. “Fucking hell, that was amazing, Jimin.” He chuckles, offering you a gentle smile that quickly transforms into his trademark smirk.

His laughter dances through the air, accompanied by a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You know, we can totally do this again,” he says, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. You can't help but roll your eyes, though deep down, the idea doesn't seem entirely unwelcome. Keeping a sense of mystery, you respond with a playful glint in your eyes, “Maybe.” The rebellion in your spirit mirrors the dance of sparks between you, a familiar game of push and pull that seems destined to continue.

“Brat.”

He chuckles, yet defies the teasing nickname by bending down to kiss you; it’s sweet and tender, a stark contrast to how he just fucked your brains out.

You cast a dismayed gaze at your drenched dress, muttering, “I can't go out in this,” and you groan, feeling the uncomfortable cling of the fabric to your skin, an unwelcome sensation adding to the aftermath of your heated encounter.

“How about we raid Seokjin’s closet?” he suggests, winking with a playful lift of his brows and a light chuckle.

“Is this Seokjin’s room? Did we just fuck on his bed? Damn, he’s going to be furious!” You burst into laughter at the absurdity of the situation. “No way! Imagine if everyone finds out we fucked.” You shriek, wildly waving your hands in the air, the possibility suddenly sinking in.

“Why are you so hell-bent on keeping it a secret?” he asks, genuinely curious, a playful glint in his eyes as he chuckles at your distress.

“Because you're my sworn enemy,” you state matter-of-factly, giving a nonchalant shrug.

“Are you sure about that?” he teases, his eyebrows wiggling playfully. You can't help but roll your eyes at his cheeky demeanor once again.

“And I think they already know,” he laughs, amusement dancing in his eyes as he observes your irritated expression. You groan into your hands, grappling with the realization that he might be right. However, you're determined to cling to any shred of hope you can find.

“We'll just stay up here until my dress is dry,” you declare, as if it's the most brilliant plan you can conjure. Jimin chuckles, his gaze lingering over your heaving form with a hunger that ignites a spark of desire. He licks his lips, suggesting, “Then take it off. That way, it'll dry faster, and we can go for round two in a moment.”

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