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prod-ddeonu · 10 months

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UNDER THE COVER | s.jy

MDNI! MDNI! MDNI!

pairing: librarian!Jake x fem!reader

cw/tw: librarian!Jake, badboy!Jake, smut, fluff, mentions of assault and sa, drugs, sex in a public building, pet names, praise, face fucking, masturbation, kissing, mentions of murder (one line)

synopsis: Love was never your goal, preferring to keep your nose in a book while sitting in an isolated corner of your favorite library. But then you met Jake Sim: the quiet librarian who wore sweaters and button downs, the man who treated every book like a treasure, the man that you felt was perfect for you. You knew better than to judge a book by its cover, but who would have known your quiet library crush was the exact opposite of what you'd expected?

featuring: jay and sunghoon (iconic bffs!)

wc: ~6.9k

PART 2

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“Finals are kicking my ass, man,” Sunghoon stretched his arms above his head as he dramatically groaned.

Jay nodded, his notes every shade of the rainbow from his color coded highlighting method of studying. “You can say that again,” he capped the red highlighter and put it behind his ear.

“Finals are kicking my ass, man,” Sunghoon repeated, laughing when Jay threw the yellow highlighter at him.

The two turned to you, your head falling as your eyes began to shut. “Y/N!” Jay shouted. Sunghoon pressed his finger against his mouth and shushed him. “Piss off, Hoon. We're in a soundproofed study room,” Jay sneered.

Your head shot up, hands flying into the table to catch yourself. “The proper function is forty-four,” you mumbled as your eyes opened. “Oh, sorry. I had a dream I had already taken the final,” you rubbed your eye with your wrist.

Sunghoon put his hand over your forehead. “Y/N, if you don't sleep enough, your score’s gonna be a forty-four,” he said, his tone laced with worry.

You smiled, pinching the bridge of your nose. Sunghoon ran his hand over the ponytail you held your hair in, bringing the hair over his head. “Jay, you think I could work long hair?”

“I don't even think you can work basic algebraic equations,” he scoffed. Sunghoon frowned, sitting back upright.

He looked at his notes before groaning in agony. “I'm done for the night, guys. It's, like, seven at night and I'm tired,” he whined.

“Yeah, I think I'm gonna head home, too. You coming, Y/N?” Jay asked as the two stood, packing their notes and pencils.

You shook your head. “No, I'm gonna get a little bit of reading therapy in,” you smiled, thinking of your favorite character.

The two boys looked at each other with a raised brow. Sunghoon wiggled his at Jay, the other returning the action to create some sort of impromptu language. “Are you sure it's therapeutic reading?” Jay asked tenderly.

“Or is it ‘I wanna fuck that hot librarian’?” Sunghoon finished the point, sliding onto the table in front of you.

Your ears turned red, the mental image Sunghoon painted making you sweat. The two burst into laughter, clapping loudly and pointing at you. “She totally does! Y/N has a crush!” Jay shouted.

You slapped your hand over his mouth. “It's soundproof in here, not a solitary confinement cell! They can definitely hear your walrus laughter!”

Jay faked shock, slapping his hand against his chest and holding the table for support.

Ignoring him, Sunghoon leaned his elbows against the table next to you. “So, whatcha likin’ about this dude?”

You squeaked. “I- um-”

Jay returned to his position on the other side of you, his hand on your shoulder. “Is he loud, badass, smokes a lot of weed and parties all night, muscle tees and ripped jeans, maybe a print-”

“Alright, alright!” You shouted. “Remind me to put some soap in your mouth, Jay,” you wagged your finger in his face. He snapped his jaw at you, following your finger. “He's the exact opposite, actually. He's quiet, really kind, he’s not into the party scene, he doesn't wear anything too showy-”

“So he's just like you?” Sunghoon interrupted, pulling the edge of his sweater onto his shoulder.

You nodded, a cheesy grin coming over your lips. “And how do you know all this?” Jay raised his brow. “I doubt you've hung out with him.”

“I can just tell,” you sighed dreamily. You kicked your feet underneath you in excitement.

Sunghoon rolled his eyes. “Ah, yes. Because you read minds.”

Jay clicked his tongue at you, crossing his arms. “Y/N, did nobody ever tell you not to judge a book by its cover?” He asked. “What if you get your hopes up, and then you find out that he's some rager that breaks your heart?”

You shook your head. “I don't think so, he seems pretty genuine from the way he looks.”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes playfully again, “Delusion is one of your few flaws, Y/N. Your other one is reading for fun.”

You sat with your knees against your chest in a small corner of the library. The seating arrangement in that corner was a long, wooden bench that wrapped around the corner of the room. You liked to sit against the corner, your back to the wall and feet facing the shelves in front of you.

In the book you were reading, the main character had gone out with her boss in order to escape her manipulative boyfriend and catch him cheating. Her boss was icy, tall, and young. You'd barely managed to catch it, but it seemed that he was younger than her. The main character was a happy woman who let her naïvety get the best of her, which her boss had helped her get past.

You were in the scene where her boss confesses to her, but you weren't sure where the story was going. He told her he was falling in love with her, which she reciprocated, but he was holding her so close, and the word “heat” and “member” kept appearing in sentences.

You saw a shadow loom over you, shading your book from the light. A large hand rested on top of the book, tilting it back. “Are you enjoying the book so far?” A deep voice with a thick accent asked.

You nodded, not looking up. “It's really good, I'm just a little confused as to what's happening. I don't know who this member is and why they're so hot, but it doesn't make sense for her to be kissing them and not the main guy,” you rambled.

The person let out a deep chuckle. “Cute,” he said under his breath. “This is my favorite part, actually. If you don't know what all of that means, though, maybe you should skip that scene. It's not really important to the plot, anyways,” he continued.

The dim light above you bounced off of his rings, his long finger tapping on the spine of the book lightly in a fidgeting manner.

“I want to know what it means,” you sighed. “Can you explain it to me?”

When the person didn't respond, you looked upwards. Your breath caught in your throat as you squeaked.

The librarian you'd been harboring a secret crush on stood above you, his mouth slightly agape and his cheeks pink. His eyes grew wider with shock the longer you looked into them.

You turned back to the book, your eyes not really reading any words. “I can figure it out myself, sorry,” you whispered.

The man scratched the nape of his neck, a shy laugh leaving his lips. “No, it's okay, that scene is just…”

“Just what? Confusing?”

“Just not something you'd want a stranger to explain.”

“If you love the book, though, wouldn't you be good at explaining it?” You asked, curiosity bubbling up inside you.

He took the book from your hands, folding the corner of the page you were on and closing it. “Let me go check this out for you. I'll tell you at the counter, then you can read the rest at home, ‘kay?”

You nodded, willing to do anything he suggested. He walked you to his counter, scanning the book. “That scene you were reading is probably one of the most well-written sex scenes a reader could ask for,” he casually commented, smirking when you covered your mouth. “You can Google the words you don't know, but tell me if you still enjoyed the book when you return it!”

He placed the book in your bag, waving to you and leaning against the counter.

You sound around, mouth open to speak. “Name’s Jake, by the way,” he smiled handsomely at you, nodding his head up once. “I was gonna introduce myself to you properly, but you kinda jumped the gun on that one, miss sex book girl.”

You blushed, looking away in embarrassment. “You don't have to call me that,” you barely whispered.

“Yeah?” He poked his tongue at his lip with a teasing smile. “What can I call you, then?”

“Y/N,” you looked at the floor before spinning around and walking to the door.

Jake waved behind you, a smile still prevalent on his face. “Have a safe night, Y/N,” he called out behind you. “Hope you enjoy your book!”

Oh, you enjoyed that book alright. With Jake’s words looming in your head, and a trusty Google search (turned out, member did not mean another character), you finished the book with a foggy mind and a whole lot of nervous swallows.

Jay and Sunghoon sat across from you at your local cafe, your bag on the table and notes strewn about. “Hoon, I think you should change majors,” Jay sighed, his palm against his forehead.

Sunghoon chewed his straw nervously while the other reviewed his notes and practice exam. “Why? I thought I was good with my pre-med stuff,” he grabbed the paper from Jay’s hands.

“‘What do you call a row of stitches holding together the edges of an incision?’ was the question, Hoon.”

He looked it over. “I don't see what I did wrong.”

You peeked your head up from your notes, reading the question. “You wrote ‘satire,’” Jay deadpanned. Sunghoon cursed under his breath and erased the answer, writing suture in its place.

“Could've sworn I put suture for that,” Sunghoon mumbled. You pat his back reassuringly, a small frown on his face. “I think I'm just burning out, I've been studying all of this for so long. Jay, gimme your card, I'm gonna go buy us a round of espresso.”

Jay swatted Sunghoon’s reaching arm away. “Dude, no! Use your card, I'm not rich,” he scoffed.

“Oh my gosh, Jay, please,” you whined. “I'm so tired, I barely slept last night.”

Jay’s brow flew to the top of his forehead, the corner of his lip lifting. “Is it because of a certain librarian you stayed late to see?” He lightly punched your shoulder jokingly.

You held your shoulder and cried out in pain dramatically. “C’mon, Jay, you owe her now,” Sunghoon waved his fingers at Jay to make a grabbing motion. Jay sighed, rolling his eyes and giving the card to him. “First round’s on Jay!”

Sunghoon skittered off to the counter to order the drinks, leaving Jay to interrogate you further.

He scooted his chair closer to yours, his arms folded over his chest. “So,” he started, “what's the reason you were up all night?”

You squeaked nervously. He laughed, placing his hand over yours softly. “I was reading a book Jake said was good,” you almost whispered.

Jay shot backwards into his seat, letting out a loud gasp of shock and earning concerned stares from the rest of the customers. You shushed him, to no avail. He spun in his chair, calling out to his friend. “Hoon! Hoon!”

Sunghoon turned to face him with a scowl. “What?” He mouthed.

“She got the hot librarian’s name!” He shouted, not caring whose morning he disturbed.

Sunghoon ran out of line, sliding back into the chair across from you and resting his hand against his chin. “Soooo,” Sunghoon dragged out, “what's his naaaame?”

You shrunk into your seat. “It’s, um-”

“It's Jake!” Jay shouted, leaning over the table.

Sunghoon and Jay brought their hands together, ooh-ing in a high pitched tone as they wiggle their fingers. “Anything else happen? Did he hold the door open for you?” Sunghoon swooned at you.

You shyly laughed. “No, he just told me to read this book,” you blushed, pulling it out of your bag. “He told me what some of it meant, and it really helped!”

Jay flipped the book open to the folded corner, reading a paragraph quickly. He closed the book, furrowed his brows, reopened the book, re-read the paragraph, and turned to you, pointing at the pages as he let his mouth hang open. “He told you what this meant?”

You nodded, blushing. “I was a little embarrassed, but he was super nice about it,” you crossed your ankles and swayed slowly.

Jay shut the book and slid it into your bag, Sunghoon reaching in and pulling it out as he turned.

“Y/N, my dearest, sweetest, bestest friend,” he placed his hand on your shoulder with a smile. Suddenly, his grip turned hard, squeezing into your collarbone. “HE IS FLIRTING WITH YOU!” He seethed.

You swatted his hand away. “Then what do– ow, that actually hurts still– I do?”

Jay peacefully made a tent with his hands against the table. He blew his bangs out of his face, the brunette pieces flying upwards. “You go back there, and you ask him out,” Jay smirked evilly. “And then, you come back and relay everything to us.”

You nodded, saluting and grunting in comprehension.

Sunghoon gasped loudly, causing you and Jay to whip your heads to him.

He slammed the book against the table, scattering Jay’s highlighters and your pencils. “THIS IS A SEX BOOK?!” He shouted.

You blushed while Jay put his hand to his mouth in order to stifle his laughter. Sunghoon slowly turned to you, disgust apparent on his face. “You're such a nerd you read porn?”

“Hey, man. She reads it for the plot,” Jay snickered.

After your embarrassing exchange with your friends, you went back to the library to return the book (and stare at Jake). You held the book in front of you, sad to part with it. Jake had opened a door to a new world that you'd never heard of: the world of erotic romance books.

You blushed at the thought of the genre being his favorite. Swinging the door open, you took in the scent of paper, dust, and the slight hint of lavender you always caught when you walked in. Your eyes adjusted to the dim lighting.

Jake scanned a book at the counter for a woman, his long, black hair being accessorized by his usual pair of round, metal-rimmed glasses.

You watched silently from in front of the door as he performed such a melancholy task in such a charming way. The sleeves of his blue pullover came to the edges of his palm, his white turtleneck beneath covering his skin. You watched his pouty lips curve into your favorite smile, a slight wink being thrown to the older woman.

The woman slipped the book into her bag, giggling and walking towards the door. Jake’s eyes met your own, a happy wave being sent your way.

You felt yourself begin to melt at the sight.

You waved back, walking towards where he was standing. You placed the book into the counter as he smiled at you. He laughed lightly. “Guess it wasn't your cup of tea, seeing as you're bringing it back the next morning?”

You shook your head, “The opposite, actually. I finished it all last night, I just couldn't put it down!” You smiled.

Jake raised a brow, putting his elbow onto the countertop and resting his chin in his palm. “Yeah?” He asked with a thick accent. “What made it so enjoyable?”

This is the flirting Jay was talking about, you thought to yourself.

You bit the tip of your tongue, looking around the room in thought. What could you say to add to the flirting? You hadn't been in a serious relationship in years, you had little to no current experience.

“I guess I really liked the main character's chemistry with her boss,” you smiled at him, “and how he had a different side to his character that he only showed her.”

Jake nodded, leaning back and rocking onto the heels of his feet. He slid the book across the counter with a low whistle escaping his lips. “You're the first person I've met that tried to find something romantic in this book.”

You mentally facepalmed yourself. “Is that not what I was supposed to do? The writing was really good, I just-”

“Hey, hey,” he laughed. “Don't worry your pretty self over that, I think it's cool that you didn't just admire the smut aspect of the book,” he scanned the barcode on the back cover and placed the book onto a cart.

“I did enjoy that part a little, it just felt awkward to read,” you lied. You actually re-read that section of the book three times after finishing the book.

Jake’s tongue swiped across his bottom lip to wet it with a smile. He walked around the counter, pushing his book cart in the direction of the young adult section of the library.

You turned to walk to your usual corner of the library, ready to surrender this golden opportunity to your awkwardness. You took a step forward, spinning back around quickly as Jake coughed.

You made eye contact as his mouth opened to speak. “Can I have your number?” You blurted out.

Jake’s mouth shut with squinted eyes. Rejection.

“Can you read my mind or something?” He asked.

You shot him a confused look, a toothy grin splayed across his face. “I was-” He cleared his throat nervously, “I was just thinking about how I wanted to ask you to hang out after I close up, sorry if it came out weird.”

You felt clouds lift your feet, making them take even steps before landing in front of him with your phone out. He chuckled as he put his number into your phone. “Doesn't this place close late, though?” You asked.

He nodded. “It closes at nine, but if I'm being honest, fun never really happens until after dark.”

You laughed, thinking he was joking. He was not.

He shrugged, continuing to push the cart. “Just text me your address, I'll pick you up. I'll make sure it's a date that you'll never forget,” he smiled.

Your heart soared. It raced. It pounded. More importantly, it stopped. Time stopped. “Date?” You squeaked out.

He laughed, his ears turning red. “Yeah, I figured it should be a date. Don't wanna waste a good time with a pretty girl like you, y'know?” He scratched the back of his neck.

You nodded eagerly. “It's a date! What do I wear?”

“Just some comfortable clothes, you don't have to do much to impress me. I'll be wearing what I usually do, anyways,” he placed a book onto the shelf, examining the next book.

You walked to the cart, grabbing a book from the other side. “I know it's not very romantic, but can I help you put away the books? It might help you close faster,” you smiled.

He pulled the cuffs of his pull-over off of his hands. “I find it very romantic that you want to do the most boring part of my job with me, actually,” he joked.

That same lavender scent you would get hints of came flooding your senses as the two of you worked closely. You closed your eyes, taking a long breath. Jake smelled like lavender, and god, it made your knees weak.

Jay and Sunghoon, although strongly against the date, showed up to your place at seven sharp to help you get ready for it. “I mean, what kind of guy asks a kind and unsuspecting girl to go out after nine?” Sunghoon asked as he curled your hair.

He looked up into the mirror, eyes locking on yours. “A sex offender,” He released your hair from the contraption, waving the wand in the air as he spoke.

Jay groaned as he laid different outfit combinations across your bed. “For the tenth time, Sunghoon, he wouldn't be able to work at a public library if he was a registered sex offender!” Jay tapped his toes in thought before throwing a red shirt of yours onto the growing pile of clothes on your floor.

“Maybe he's not a sex offender yet,” Sunghoon replied, “but our little Y/N could end up being the body they find in the ditch.”

You sighed as Jay struggled to not throw a hard object at his friend. Sunghoon and Jay had been going at it since they arrived, Sunghoon erring more on the “worried mother” end of the argument.

“Sunghoon, stop worrying so much. He's super cute and sweet, he probably just wants to watch a movie or something,” you smiled.

Sunghoon clicked his tongue. “Let's recall what he said. ‘Wear something comfortable’, because tight clothes cause you to bleed out slower. ‘A date you'll never forget’, because you'll be dead by eleven.”

“‘I just want to have sex with you and then send you home at four in the morning,’” Jay commented. “You make it sound like she's going out with Michael Myers. Don't forget, Hoon, she already agreed to share her location with us in the groupchat.”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes, running his fingers through your curls. “So we'll know what corner of the road her body ends up on, but what about her head?”

“Oh, God, you're going off the deep end,” you pressed your hand to your forehead.

You stood from the chair, doing a small twirl for the two. You had already done your makeup before the two arrived, but you were a lost cause with fashion and hair.

Jay clapped, his lower lip jutting out in an impressed expression. “Wow, Hoon. Maybe you should drop out of college and become a hairdresser,” he commented, earning a threatening jab with the hot iron from Sunghoon.

You unplugged the appliance, taking it from his hands and carefully placing it down. Jay held a shirt and skirt to your body, nodding for the other man to look at the combination.

Sunghoon patted the man on his back, a smile on his face. “See, if I had to send my only daughter off to possibly go missing, this is the outfit I think she'd want to go in.”

You walked out of your door at exactly a quarter past nine, Jake’s text message reminding you of a drunk message from Jay.

Hey um he uh, um out sigh in the blocker period sore we eve this cumster you we're, um using speech to text period

You figured it translated roughly to, “Hey, I'm here, I'm outside in the black car. Sorry if this comes to you weird, I'm using text to speech.” You just couldn't figure out where cumster could've come from.

You giggled as you sat in the car. Your purse clinked loudly with the pepper spray, pocket knife, seatbelt cutter, lockpick, whistle, and body reflectors Sunghoon wouldn't let you leave without.

You closed the door, turning to Jake. You audibly screamed when you saw the man in the front seat. He jumped, looking into the backseat and out of every window. “Shit, Y/N, what's wrong?!” He shouted, equally as scared as you.

You looked at him in disbelief. “Jake? Is that really you?”

The man who was sitting next to you was wearing a black wife-beater and baggy jeans with large tears at the knees, a small book pendant hanging off a gold chain. His body, now uncovered by layers of clothing, was covered by layers of ink. He had a paw print on his inner arm, the name Layla written inside of it, along with many music tattoos and smaller symbols across his arms and chest.

You looked down, noting that it seemed even his legs had art on them. His eyes followed yours, a small gasp leaving his mouth. “Oh, yeah. Guess I forgot to mention all that,” he smiled. “They're everywhere, but they all mean something.”

You looked up at him, your eyes wide. You may have painted him as a modest man, but you'd be lying if you said the Jake in front of you didn't make you feel butterflies. “They're pretty,” you commented, reading the tattoo on the side of his neck.

“Love is a great beautifier.”

Jake self-consciously ran his hand over it. “It's from Little Women,” Jake smiled softly.

“I love that book,” you commented, continuing to admire his look. His hair had fallen messily over his forehead, his glasses seeming to have disappeared.

He sucked a breath in through his teeth. “Me too, actually. It's what got me into reading,” he looked forward as he put his seatbelt back on. “Look, if you find that I look too weird like this, I can put a jacket on or something-”

“No! I like it, actually. You look… good,” you blushed as you put your seatbelt on.

Jake reached his hand under your chin, lifting your head to look at him. “Look me in my eyes and say it again,” the corner of his lip lifted. “I want to see you say it, don't hide your face from me.”

You mumbled, “You look good.”

“I'll take it,” he smiled fully, throwing the car into drive and pulling into the road. “Just know, I don't let pretty girls hold their tongue around me.”

You looked out the window in an effort to hide your nervousness. Jake turned his radio on, playing a band you didn't know.

He started humming along to the song as it got closer to the chorus. He had a beautiful voice, which only added to your nervousness.

“Where are we going?” You asked, noticing a familiarity in the direction he was driving in.

He tested his elbow against his center console as he drove with one hand. “I figured I could take you to the library after hours, y'know? We'd be alone but it wouldn't be like you didn't know the place. I can show you my favorite spot, too.”

You shot a glance in his direction. “Jake, isn't it closed?”

“Yeah, and?”

“As in, we can't be there?”

“Yes we can,” he smiled.

You rolled your eyes. “If you're trying to break into a building, I think we should call this off.”

“Relax, sweetheart,” he laughed, his accent shining through, “it's not breaking in.”

“Entering with a key doesn't count.”

“It does when you own the place,” Jake pulled up to a stop light, wiggling his eyebrows at you before laughing loudly. Your jaw was to the floor, an unreadable expression in your eyes. “I've never made it obvious that I owned it, because it was given to me by my grandmother when she retired, but I've owned it since I moved here. My cousin opens the place on weekdays while I go to college, but I close every night and spend the whole weekend there.”

“You'd have to live there to pull that off,” you rolled your eyes.

“I do,” he responded. “My place is right next to it.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Of course you're handsome, funny, good at singing, and you own a business.”

You felt his hand land on your leg, his fingers tapping rhythmically to the music. You turned to him, your eyes trailing up his arm. “You can continue,” he said with a shit-eating grin.

You lightly hit his arm, pointing to the road. “Light's green,” you turned to hide your blush.

Jake walked you into the familiar building, a small smile on his face as he pulled a projector from the office room. “Come and sit down, pretty girl,” he plugged a handful of cords into the device and turned it on.

You walked past the nonfiction shelves to see pillows forming small seats on the floor, a basket of movie snacks and drinks in the middle. Jake had thrown some last minute fairy lights into the mix, wrapping them around the seating area and putting some candles on the ground. “Jake, this looks amazing.”

He sat on a pillow before laughing and motioning to the other. You ran over, sitting down and immediately putting on a movie.

You didn't watch a single moment of the movie. Although Jake seemed immersed, you couldn't take your eyes off of him. Your eyes took in the slight shine against his skin from the movie, the light in his eyes looking like stars. You didn't miss the way he chewed his tongue when he got focused, or when his hair was blown awry by the air conditioner.

Your brain took a turn for the worse as a more romantic scene in the movie arrived. Your eyes raked over his exposed skin, feeling like a Victorian man who had just been introduced to short sleeves.

You looked at his tattoos, really looked at them, and saw countless music notes with small letters in them, a guitar, small pictures or animals, and a lot of book references. You never expected Jake to have been fully inked up, but you also never expected to find that as a huge turn-on.

You squeezed your thighs together to hide the fact that a simple doodle in perfectly smooth skin had put you in such a predicament. Jake turned to you, wrapping his arm around you and pointing to the screen. “See that actor?”

“Yeah, what about him?” You asked.

Jake let his hand fall onto your lap, turning to you. “Even he can tell you're not paying attention,” he pushed your hair behind your ear. “Wanna tell me what you like so much that you've been staring at me the whole time?”

You gawked. You geeked. You'd fumbled.

Jake slid his hand onto your back, and in a moment he was above you. “Tell me, sweetheart, what's so attractive that it's got you squeezing those pretty thighs so tight?”

You gulped, your thoughts having gone anywhere but where they should. He tapped his finger against your lip, a sinful smile on his face. “Your tattoos,” you whispered.

Jake leaned back, messily pushing his hair out of his face and laughing darkly. “You like my tattoos so much that you're getting wet over them?” He asked, looking down at you.

You nodded. “I like how cool you look, wanna see the rest.”

“You want to see the rest of the ones on me, sweetheart?” He asked in that thick Aussie accent you couldn't get enough of.

With a small squeak, you nodded again, feeling smaller than usual in his gaze. He looked at you the same way you'd assume a predator stared at its prey in its final moments, but you felt a strange sense of safety with him.

He slowly leaned in, his arms caging you in as he pressed his lips to yours. He held your hip with his large hand, his fingers gripping your ass while his palm held you down. He slid his thigh over your core, pressing into where you needed him most.

Your lips parted, letting out a moan. Jake swallowed it whole, sliding his tongue against your own slowly and sucking on your bottom lip. The two of you built a slow rhythm, his thigh grinding into you as you arched your back like clockwork.

His hand never left your hip, holding you in place to keep you victim to his torturously slow lips and thrusts. He loved every noise that left your mouth. Jake pulled away from you, his eyes taking in your wet, puffy lips. The two of you were breathlessly panting to catch your breaths.

His lips parted in thought. “Didn't think you'd be such a good kisser,” he mused. “Almost like you were made for my lips.”

You giggled, pushing him off you as he went to press more kisses to your lips. “Jake, I want to know more about you,” you whined.

“For one, I'm a really good kisser,” he wiggled his eyebrows jokingly as he settled back into his seat. His arms came behind him for support. He seemed to not worry about covering his obvious boner, leaning back and looking at the ceiling.

You hit his arm. “I know that already,” you fussed. “But, like, what are some hobbies of yours?”

He jut his bottom lip out in thought. “I play guitar,” he shrugged, “and there's nothing I love more than getting high and reading a good book.”

You blinked slowly, his eyes coming to yours with a smile. “What does being high even have to do with reading?”

“Makes the experience more realistic. Feels like you're there, you start feeling what the character feels and all,” he sighed. “I like to read romance books, though.”

You bit the back of your lip. “Does that really work?”

“Wanna try it?"

Jake had lit a joint for you, showing you how to hold it and even going so far as to hold it for you while he played with your hair.

The world started to move slower, certain colors waving in your vision. “Do you feel it?” Jake asked, running his hands through your hair. You nodded, looking around the room. “The rest’ll hit soon, just know I'm right here if you need me.”

He put his arm around your shoulders as he took his own hits, resting his head against your own.

He put the joint into a small ashtray, standing with you and grabbing one of the many books he'd brought into the soundproofed study room off a table.

The two of you read through it, laughing when one of you wouldn't be done with the page as fast as the other. Suddenly, the book began to describe a racier scene, one with hands all over the main character's body and kisses being pressed over her.

Jake watched you closely, taking note of how you squirmed in your seat every time the girl felt a new sensation. “What's wrong, Y/N?” Jake asked in a low voice, leaning into you. “You seem… worked up.”

You swallowed hard. “N-No! I’m just cold,” you lied. Jake clicked his tongue, closing the book and holding you by your thigh.

He used his hand to pull you closer, his lips connecting to your own. “Sure, sweetheart. I believe you,” he lied with a smirk. He glanced at your lips again before wrapping his fingers around your throat, pulling you in to continue his rough kiss.

A groan slipped from Jake's own throat, his body reacting before he could. He pulled away, his hand sliding up your closed thighs. “Not,” he continued, connecting your lips again. You opened your legs slightly, giving Jake the ability to use his hand and pry them open.

He ran his fingers up and down your clothed slit, just barely giving you the friction you craved. You felt how hard he was through his jeans, his crotch subtly grinding against your leg. He continued his assault against your lips, never once stopping for air.

You hit his chest, moaning into his mouth as he pulled away. “Jake, stop teasing me.”

“Oh, I'd never tease you, darling,” he responded with a mischievous grin. “Just wanted you to feel how good you're gonna feel with me.”

Jake took his hand off your skirt and brought it into your other hand. He brought his lips to your neck, biting down and tracing the marks with his tongue. You moaned out his name, making him groan lowly into your neck.

“I can't wait anymore,” he said as he stepped back and began unbuckling his belt. “I need to feel your throat around me.”

You stood, walking to be in front of him and pushing his back to the table. His breath caught in his throat as you sank to your knees in front of him. He hurriedly finished unbuckling his belt, reaching his hands to his waistband to pull down the rest of his clothing as you held his hand to stop him.

“Wait, Jake, are you sure about this? We're both high and in a study room in the library, what if the cameras pick up the noise?”

Jake leaned against the table behind him, his hands holding onto the edge of it at his sides. He looked at you with such an intense heat behind his gaze, you could feel the lust of it gathering into your underwear.

He slid a hand into your hair, pulling you to him and smashing his lips to yours. He brought his thigh outwards to catch your body between your legs. Your eyes shut at the feeling, the messy kiss fogging your brain.

“These rooms are sound-proof for two reasons. One, for studying or reading. And two, so I can fuck your throat as hard as I want.”

He released your hair, making you fall back to your knees. He pushed his pants and boxers down to his knees, giving you a grand view of his cock.

It was veiny, thick, and the tip was such an angry red that the precum leaking from it almost screamed for you to lick it all up. Without warning, you grabbed it and took it between your lips.

Jake threw his head back, a moan bouncing off the walls of the room. You heard him suck a breath in through his teeth as you sucked on the tip. You let your tongue glide over his slit, collecting his precum and swallowing it.

“Fuck, Y/N, you're so good at this,” he moaned. Your wetness was dripping down your legs, you felt it. You moaned around him as you took more of him in with hollowed cheeks.

He held the sides of your head, forcing you to look into his eyes. “Remember what I said, sweetheart. Wanna fuck your face, if that's okay.”

You hummed on his dick, giving him the go-ahead. He slowly began to thrust into your mouth, not pushing in all the way. When you began to bob your head further, Jake took it as his sign to go deeper.

He added more force and speed to his thrusts until you were taking him whole, each thrust hitting the bottom of your throat and making you gag around him. Your saliva was dripping down his balls and onto his legs as you used one hand to rub your own clit.

You were so close, but you wanted to wait until his cum was pouring down your throat to finish. “Such a good girl for me, so sweet for taking my dick down her throat,” Jake hummed, his eyes never leaving the sight. It all felt so good.

Jake’s legs began to shake as he let out more moans. Jake was not afraid to be loud, nor was he afraid to speak his mind. He constantly praised you between his little moans.

“Fuck,” he moaned. “‘M so close.”

You moaned against him again, his hips jolting forward. “Gonna make me cum down your throat like that, bet you want that don't you?”

His tip slammed into the back of your throat, his thrusts growing erratic. With each thrust he gave to the back of your throat, you circled your clit faster. “Fuck, ‘m gonna cum,” he groaned.

His hips stuttered to a halt, warm liquid spilling into your stomach. “Taking it so, so good,” he sighed, his hair sticking to the sweat on his forehead. “Atta girl, my girl, so beautiful with my cock down her throat.”

You moaned as you felt your orgasm take over you, moans spilling around Jake’s cock and slightly overstimulating him. He thrusted one more time into you, a lazy smile on his face. He pulled out of you, watching bits of spit and cum dribble down your chin.

You looked like an absolute wreck, your hair messy and your mascara running with spit down your chin. Jake loved it. You looked stunning to him.

“Y/N, that was amazing. Thank you,” he pulled you up to sit you in a chair. He ran out of the room to get water for you, as he'd told you when he walked out.

Your eyes darted around the room. You opened your phone to see four missed calls from both Sunghoon and Jay.

You dialed Jay’s phone number, a groggy smile on your face. “Hey, what's up?”

“Y/N, are you still with Jake?”

“Yes, why?” You asked, stretching in the chair.

He sighed over the phone. “We've been waiting outside the library for half an hour, get the fuck in the car.”

“Jay, I'm capable of bringing myself home-”

“Y/N. Get out of there, now,” Jay said, his tone cold. “I don't know how to say this, but-”

“Jay, you can't control me. I'm an adult,” you rolled your eyes, pacing around the room. “If you're so uncomfortable with me dating someone-”

Jay interrupted you, saying a sentence you'd never think to hear about anyone, much less the guy you sucked off less than three minutes ago. His words had you quickly grabbing your belongings and running out of the building, hoping Jake didn't see you go.

“He’s wanted for murder, Y/N.”

notes: MURDER?? oh boy.. didn't see that one coming ;) expect the next part to be... Eventful. Originally, Jake was supposed to be a camboy, but I figured that possible criminal Jake would be better LMFAO. I reccomend listening to Arctic monkeys or chase Atlantic when you read this series.

tags: @heesitation @vizstars

likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated, and thank you for reading! stick around for part 2!!

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writingoddess1125 · 7 months

Text

Morticia and Gomez Effect pt. 2

Mihawk X FemReader

Since people liked this made a part two!

Part 1 <<<

• Mihawk mood had been fowl as of late, Clearly issues had been getting to him silently. His wine intake growing and his irritation rising

• You needed to fix this, Anger was never the most attractive look for your husband anyway-

• He had been home for two days and still hadn't spoke. Instead sitting in his study and doing paperwork while drinking, Sometimes the waft of cigar smoke greeting you as well from the halls.

• "Growling at the wall?" You call out seeing him sitting there scowling at the wall with his face turned up like a beast growling.

• He glanced at you, Seeing you close the door behind you, as well as noticing your done up appearance- mainly the black dress that fit you like a lustful sin he had bought some time again- already lessening his angry face.

• "I am in no mood Wife, leave me" He said with a irritated sigh. He never called you 'Wife' only when truly upset did he say this, Just like how when he was furious he would use your name.

• "I see, so you don't wish for your spirits to be lifted?" You said with a smirk starting to crawl across your face. Walking to the other side of his desk to close a curtain.

• "No- nor do I wish for whatever parlor trick you have p-pla-" Mihawk couldn't even finish his sentence as you pulled down the front of your dress flashing him your naked chest with a smile.

• Just like any man at any age his eyes widened and mind blank at the sight of breast. You quickly pulling the dress back up with a smile.

• He frozen, His drink almost falling from his hand if he didn't clumsily catch it and hold it steady.

• Mihawk stared at you for a moment like he was trying to formulate a response, his stoic face starting to break as a hearty laugh broke through his lips. His woes easily being wiped away by your trick as he tried to wave it away.

• "Dragostea mea (My Darling) you are too much, drawing me from my mood in such a childish way" He mused as he reached his arm out and pulling you into his lap.

• You smile at his words and nestle yourself against his strong chest, Your fingers playing with the cross on his chest.

• "Well anything for you my Love~" You smile and pepper kisses on his face and lips. He gives a delighted groan and his hand travels to find the zipper of the dress.

• "Idle hands my Love" You warn making him grumble for a short while- Mainly cause you both knew what was coming.

• His lips falling from its smile as the door bursted open and Perona March in like she owned the place. Recently you had been in charge of training her- Especially since you felt like Mihawk was too soft on her.

• Mihawk sighed as he sat up and saw Perona standing there making a face at the two of you.

• "So Gross!-" She tried as she stared at you two and invaded the space, You smoothing down your dark gown as you stared at the young woman with a amused face.

• "What do you want Perona?" Mihawk said as she stomped into the room, You watching her glare at you and look away flustered.

• "I never got a thank you from you for my recent mission!" She yelled as she pointed to you

• "Thats because you failed-" You spoke plainly.

• "I didn't fail!" She began to rant about the events of loosing to someone who flashed rainbow colors and worse 'disgusting' pastels.

• "So you lost to someone in pastels, Didn't get the information needed, didn't listen to the advice I gave you for the last mission. Now you come through here causing a ruckus cause I will not reward you?" You spoke very carefully, watching her stiffen at the lace of irritation through your voice.

• She shuffled a bit awkwardly and gave a single nod. You sighing at this-

• "Now your failing in the mission is one thing but my darling girl- Being beaten by Pastels?" You mused, she had fallen prey to a pastel nightmare was just too much of a burn. Her face turning as pink as her dress as she fluttered out screaming and throwing a temper tantrum thankfully she slammed the door closed behind her.

• Mihawk sighing as he leaned in his chair and pulled you back against him properly.

• "Disobedient" You hummed with a tired sigh.

• "If we had our own they would be more obedient and skilled" He mused, You feeling him place another kiss to the back of your neck.

• Surprised by his words you roll so you are facing him now, seated on him like a saddle. His intense yellowed eyes meeting your gaze before continuing to kiss you this time down your throat.

• "You're making it sound like you actually want one?" You said in mused question, a few breathy moans leaving you as he proceeded to bite rather hard down on your soft skin and his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips.

• Catching his gaze as he pulls back you could read him like a picture book. He did?

• "You actually want a child?" You hummed as your eyebrow raised, Feeling your husband's eyes wonder your form. His arm doing a quick sweep over his desk to push everything to the side and floor, uncaring as he had a goal in mind.

• "I am surprised we haven't already given an army due to us taking caution to the wind" He said calmly, setting you on the desk as his hands made easy work of rolling up the dark garment over your thighs.

• "Well if it's an army you want-" You purr and pull him closer to you by the cross around his neck feeling him close the distance between you two. "We better make up for lost time~"

• He smirked at this as he leaned down to kiss you with wine flavored lips as his hands found the front of your dress and in a fluid motion ripped the fabric down the center.

• Lost time indeed

Tag list-

@who-the-hockeysticks @vexladin

#x reader #one peice x reader #one piece #one peice live action #mihawk x reader #hawkeye mihawk #one piece mihawk #dracule mihawk #op mihawk #mihawk x y/n #dracule mihawk x reader

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wri0thesley · 8 months

Text

gift wrap - wriothesley x reader (2.7k)

you're just so excited to show wriothesley your newest purchase - but the duke can't help but think it would look better on the floor.

cw: not sfw, minors dni. reader is afab and wears a dress, corset, stockings, etc, but no gendered terms are used. reader is implied to be chubby. soft dom wriothesley, pet names 'sweetheart, pretty baby'. reader keeps calling wriothesley 'your grace'.

“Do you like it?” You twirl in front of Wriothesley, making sure that the full dramatic effect of your new gown is not lost; that Wriothesley is able to see every ruffle, every carefully embroidered rainbow rose, every neatly tied bow. It’s a complicated confection of a dress, and you had delighted in sending missives to the dressmaker with every new idea you’d had, your measurements carefully taken by the Duke himself--

(“Tighter!” You’d urged, the tape measure around your waist. Wriothesley had huffed out a noise that might be fondness and might be exhaustion.

“You’re not going to be able to breathe in it,” he’d said, but he’d pulled the tape more snugly even so.

“I’ve got a new corset coming,” you’d told him. “And you’re not going to complain about it showing off all of my assets, are you?”

Wriothesley had paused.

“ . . . No,” he’d said, and he’d shown you the number on the tape for you to rush off and scribble down before it went out of your head).

“So,” you urge him, coming to a stop in front of him and striking a pose you hope is effective. You certainly feel good in it; the new corset underneath, and the new chemise (silk and trimmed with exquisite lace) and the new stockings and new shoes all working together to make you feel like the most exquisite flower in the garden - not that such a thing is hard, in the Fortress of Meropide. “Do you like it?”

Wriothesley rests his chin on his hand behind his desk and motions you over with the other, beckoning you to come closer. You eagerly follow instruction, and he reaches out and tweaks one of your ribbons, his expression not changing.

“So this is what you’re spending my Mora on?” He asks you. You pout at him, and the tension breaks - he lets out a gruff bark of laughter. “Yes, yes, sweetheart. I like it plenty.”

You beam at him, and he shakes his head, an expression as familiar to you as your own hands playing across his face - an attempt to be tough and maintain his reputation, tempered with his inability to say no to you and his tendency to break whenever you exert the slightest bit of pressure on him. Nobody else could say that they have the Duke of the Fortress wrapped around their finger the way you do.

“It’s not the only new thing that arrived in the mail room for me today!” You chirp at him, and his eyes go dark as he remembers you chattering idly in bed next to him about all of the other fripperies and fancies you were having made.

Nobody would accuse Wriothesley, normally, of excess in anything but the amount and variety of teas that he orders for himself. Unfortunately, when it’s you beside him, fluttering lashes and sighing and pouting and saying “Your Grace, please” . . . he has a lot of willpower, but he’s not made of stone.

“I take it back,” Wriothesley says, taking a sip of the fragrant tea resting on his desk. It’s supposed to calm him before bed, but he’s no longer feeling sleepy at all - not with the promise of what might be beneath your gown calling to him. “I’d like it much, much more if it were on the floor.”

“I only just put it on--” You say to him, teasing, batting your lashes - and Wriothesley places the teacup down and puts his fists upon his desk. That dark cast in his eye does not abate, and he uses a voice that means business when he opens his mouth again;

“Now.”

You know what that tone means. You take a shuddering breath, and then say to him, your own voice wavering;

“I’ll need your help. Sigewinne helped me put it on . . .” As you speak, you turn slowly, showing the row of buttons down your back - they’re helped along by both ribbon lacing and hooks and eyes, and you can practically feel Wriothesley’s displeasure emanating off of him as he surveys them.

“Blasted thing,” he grumbles to himself, and you hear the heavy footfall of his boots as he stands up and comes around the desk to be closer to you. You gasp as strong, work-roughened hands grab you by the indent of your waist and haul you bodily closer to him. “Why make this so complicated?”

Despite his grumblings, his fingertips are tender as he undoes the first hook and begins to work on the small satin-covered buttons.

“I ought to just rip it off you,” he breathes into your ear, breath hot against your neck. “Save me all of the trouble.”

“I just bought it,” you repeat, helplessly, as the Duke deftly reaches the lacing at your hips, and you feel the gown fall from your shoulders. His lips press against the nape of your neck. “Th-that would definitely be a waste of Mora--”

“Anything that ends with you naked,” Wriothesley murmurs, “is not a waste of anything.”

“Your Grace--”

He chuckles roughly at the title, hand reaching around to pull your face towards him. Standing there in chemise and corset and stockings and heels, aware that you would be most embarrassed were anyone to walk into Wriothesley’s office looking for an audience with him, you are nevertheless helpless to do anything but let your lover draw you into a kiss as deep and hungry as there’s ever been.

Teeth dig into your bottom lip and you whine into his mouth, as Wriothesley’s calloused hands trace the shape of you. Where the corset makes your waist smaller, your hips all the rounder, the swell of your chest as ripe and heaving as it can be.

“You know,” he breaks the kiss to say to you, his voice dropping semitones with every syllable, his throat clogged with want. “I’m a simple man. I don’t need my gifts to be in fancy wrapping or anything; you could walk in here in brown paper and string and I would devour you just as eagerly . . . But,” and he cracks a grin, his teeth bright and sharp and wolfish. “Well. This makes a man re-evaluate.”

He squeezes the globe of your ass through your chemise and you whine, your hands coming up to rest on his chest, fingertips curling about the lapels of his waistcoat.

“Still,” he slides his hands up, and deftly, without even looking - like a master criminal, a master thief - you feel your corset lacings loosen, and then the beautifully embroidered garment is falling from you too and you feel your chest, freed from the stricture of the corset, spill forward to fill out your chemise. “It’s hard not to prefer you . . . au naturel. You don’t need the ornamentation, sweetheart. You’re the nicest thing to look at down here for miles. In fact, every time I catch one of the inmates looking at you I wanna punch them out myself.”

“I like it,” you whisper, helplessly, because your stomach is rolling pleasantly and your head has gone light and fluffy like cotton wool, egged on by the palpable lust in the Duke’s voice as he slowly strips you of your accoutrements. “I know I don’t . . . need to . . . for you . . .”

Wriothesley’s fingers on your chin, smile on his face as he kisses you again, gentler this time.

“As long as you know,” he murmurs, sweet as honey. “The day I don’t want to throw you over my desk and fuck your pretty little brains out the minute I see you, call the Chief Justice and have the idiot tried and incarcerated for impersonation.”

He does this, sometimes; says the most vulgar things whilst sitting in his luxurious office, his title obvious in his regal bearing - and every time, it does not fail to make you wet.

“This, though . . .” He tugs at the lace hem of the chemise; the fabric clings to you, the true shape of your body without any need for whalebone and ribbons. “Ooh, I daresay you can keep this on.”

“What are you going to do to me, Your Grace?” You ask him, your heart pounding in your ears - or perhaps between your thighs. You feel a little too out of sorts to locate it properly.

He answers by lifting you up, uncaring of how much you weigh - all of that time in the Pankration ring has made it so you barely ever see him break a sweat, regardless of what he’s doing. The only time you’ve ever really seen him sweating, he’s been above you, eyes fever bright, hips pistoning in and out of you, veins prominent on his scarred forearms as he caged you beneath him. You find yourself deposited onto the edge of his desk, and then Wriothesley is fumbling with his trousers and slotting himself between your thighs.

“Another time,” he says to you, in between rough kisses and bites to your lower lip, your earlobe, your throat. “I’d take my time with you, sweetheart. Get on my knees, use my tongue on you until you’re nice and wet and trembling . . . Really taste you. But . . . Ah.” He heaves a wistful sigh. One of his fingers slides into the top of your stocking, twanging it against the fullness of your thigh where it pinches just enough to drive him wild. “S’taken me too long to get you out of all of that nonsense, and now . . . well, I’m only flesh and blood.”

You gasp out his name as you feel something slap against your thigh, slick and hard and hot. You can feel his shaft pulsing even now, and you let your eyes drift down to see Wriothesley’s impressive length in his fist, tip flushed purple-red with want, a bead of silvery precome dripping onto your new stockings.

His other hand carefully drags the strap of your chemise down, urging you to shrug it off your top half - and then your chest is free, your nipples hardening in the cool air, the soft bounce of them being unrestrained making Wriothesley unconsciously lick his lips.

He’s still fully clothed, but for his cock, and the knowledge of just how exposed you are - thighs spread wide to allow him space between them, chemise pushed down to below your breasts and up to above your hips. Anyone who walked in on you right now would see how shameless you’re being for the Duke of the Fortress, and you could not care less.

“At least you’re well-behaved,” Wriothesley grunts, pinching your nipple with one hand - the shock goes through you, straight to your cunt. “You’re wet, sweetheart. Ah. You want me to fuck you?”

“Yes,” your voice comes out a soft little whine. You can’t think straight; his cock slaps against the outside of your cunt, your slick mingling with his precome, the head barely brushing your clit.

“Can’t hear you,” he says, smiling down at you. “These old pipes get loud this time of night, y’know. Downside to the whole underwater fortress thing.” The calloused palm travels over your breast, over your collarbone, brushing your throat with the lightest of touches until he’s gripping your jaw firmly in his hand. His thumb brushes over your lips, gently pressing down on the lower one until your mouth opens for him.

Your tongue shyly probes at his thumb, and you see a spot of colour high on his cheeks.

“Say it again,” he says, though from the crack in his voice you can tell it’s taking all of his self-control to wait. Through the thumb in your mouth, you say to him, all want and need and soft panting;

“Please fuck me, Your Grace.”

“Good,” Wriothesley praises you - and then, he presses his hips forward and his cock catches on your opening and you lose the ability to do anything but let him push forward, opening you up.

The hand formerly on his cock comes to grip onto your hip in order to act as leverage. Your eyes roll back into your head, your lips closing about his thumb so you can suckle on it as a distraction to the sting of being opened wider than your body thinks it can handle. It’s an almost-sting, not-quite-burn - Wriothesley’s thick length almost too much for you to bear, bullying itself inside of you and almost making the channel of your cunt mould to the shape of his. His tip bullies further and further into you, and he grits his teeth and lets a low guttural groan fall from his mouth.

“Shit,” he grunts. “Always forget how tight you are. Ought to fuck you more.”

He spends every night inside of you that he can, and plenty of lunchtimes and ‘afternoon tea breaks’ too - but you’re not sure Wriothesley could be satisfied even if he had nothing to do all day but fuck you. His stamina is something to be marvelled at. You’ve lost count of the number of times you’ve been beneath him, whimpering out as he filled you with another round of his come, that you don’t think you can take any more - and every time, Wriothesley has soothed and kissed and cajoled - and every time, you’ve been left so full of his release that you feel it leaking out of your cunt and onto the bed sheets as Wriothesley turns ‘just one more’ into ‘just three more’.

You wrap your own arms around his neck, fingers tangling into the mass of his hair, and let him set the pace as he always does.

Thrust comes after fast, hungry thrust - Wriothesley is as merciless in this as he is in all things, though you know from experience he has it in him to be tender, when things get too much. Right now, though, he has no time for tenderness - you helplessly suckle on his thumb, grateful for the distraction, as Wriothesley snarls and grunts and teaches your body to take him with every squelching cant of his hips. You feel your own slick drip down your inner thighs to make a mess of whatever it is you’re perched on, and you hope Wriothesley wasn’t working on any important paperwork when you’d flounced in here to show off your newest wardrobe addition.

The beautiful dress you’d waited to be delivered lies in a crumpled heap on the floor, though, and it seems far less important right now than the growing ache between your legs - the tension that builds with Wriothesley’s groans. You can’t breathe. You can’t do anything, as Wriothesley notices how you react and shifts his body just so, so that his cock batters against a sensitive spot with every fast-paced thrust he fucks into you. Your fingers twist deep into the hair at the nape of his neck, drool escaping your mouth and trickling down from around Wriothesley’s thumb.

“You close, sweetheart?” Wriothesley murmurs. “Come on, pretty baby. Are you gonna come for me?”

You nod, dazed, and as Wriothesley presses a kiss to your forehead that’s as tender as his fucking is brutal, you feel your body contract and then explode into a hundred pinpricks of light. It’s a sharp kind of pleasure; an explosion of sensation that starts between your thighs and travels into all of your fingers, all of your toes. Sweat beads on your forehead and you whine out unintelligible drooling noises as your vision goes white in sparks of electricity, your cunt pulsating around Wriothesley’s length as he slows his thrusts just enough to let you crest over the hill of your orgasm.

When you come back down, aftershocks of pleasure still making you tremble and shudder, Wriothesley’s cock is still inside of you. There’s a twist to his lip, an amused little smile.

“Good?” He asks you, voice rough. You nod dazedly. “Good. There’s a reward for looking so fucking pretty in everything I buy for you.”

He pauses.

“Now. Are you gonna give me a reward for spending all my hard-earned Mora on you, huh?”

You blink at him, your eyelids syrupy thick. As the final waves of your orgasm ebb away, and your heart slows to a rhythm that no longer worries you, you’re once more made aware of just how hard Wriothesley is inside of you. How his thighs are flexing with want; the mess of his hair, his clothes in disarray.

You lock your thighs about his waist, pulling him closer in.

“Of course, Your Grace,” you murmur, your tongue heavy. Wriothesley lets out a chuckle, another kiss bestowed upon your forehead as he murmurs into your hair;

“That’s what I like to hear, sweetheart. How about we order you three new dresses tomorrow?”

#writing #not sfw text #genshin impact smut #wriothesley smut #wriothesley x reader #genshin impact x reader

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dcxdpdabbles · 25 days

Note

Based on this post here https://www.tumblr.com/ourrechte-blog/740959709140484096

Danny and the latest incarnation of the Demons ends up in Star City. They're doing ninja stuff as a way to get resources and find a way home. Green Arrow overhears mentions of "Great One" and "Demon's Head" and maybe Dani is there and gets called dahlia and it's misheard as Talia

Ollie: Batman, come over here and get your de-aged villains

Bruce: What makes you so sure they're mine?

Ollie: They're ninjas and their leader, who kicked my ass, is referred to as "Great One" so yes, I'm sure these are the League of Assassins under an alias. Or clones

Ra's finds this entire thing hilarious. Damian, not so much

Oliver is not having a good time. He noticed some shady activity going down in his city's underbelly and decided to investigate. Star City wasn't as crime-infested as Gotham, but it wasn't sunshine and rainbows either.

It was far better hidden, but corruption ran amok in his home, so he had to run around to get things fair. He noticed the ninjas only after a while of them being in town. At first, they seemed focused on gaining territory.

They moved from the poorest neighborhoods to the richest, slowly beating out the top dogs. It seemed the leader had the same mentality of prison- beat the toughest person on his first day and become the new number one. Usually, that wouldn't work with such solid and old operations, but somehow, the ninjas were doing it.

They cut off resources. It causes discord in the lackey's ranks. Pulled funding from who knows where. And Blackmailed the rest into submission.

It was a hostile takeover. A plague on the control of the criminal empires station in Star City.

And there was nothing Oliver could do to stop them. He felt like a fumbling medic during a pandemic. Too many areas were affected before he could arrive, and too many loose ends were tied before he could gather enough information to know what they were trying to accomplish.

He contacted the Justice League when it became clear that it was too much for his team to handle. They sent over Dinah Lace and Gregory Sanders (Much to the joy of his bi-heart), who helped him trace the pathway the ninjas were taking, but ultimately, they were unable to catch up.

"It's like chasing ghosts," Gregory complains, his red bandana moving with his mouth. His eyes are scanning the towering buildings, fiddling with his guns. "I see them for only a second, and they are much faster than any of my bullets."

"It doesn't help that one of them is a meta with a similar power to mine," Dinah agrees. She was the closest to the taller figure, attempting to use her Canary Cry to capture him. Imagine her surprise when the figure turned and returned a cry of its own, easily overpowering Dinah's and flinging her away. "We might need a Speedster"

"And a Bat," Olver sighs. "They're far too slippery. A Bat should be able to devise a plan that might work for them. My tactical strategies are falling short."

"How painful was that for you to admit?" Dinah asks with a smirk.

"I'm choking on my blood," He deadpans, causing her to laugh. At once, Olover's heart launches in his chest. She has the loveliest laugh. He throws her a smile that he knows is disgustingly gooey, and her eyes crinkle with the gentleness she reserves for him.

"I overheard them speaking for a bit before one of them heard my guns click," Gregory says, eyeing the two of them like he knows they are flirting but won't point it out. He's a spoilsport. "One of them identified the other. Does the name Talia mean anything to ya'll?"

Crude. Whatever good mood Olvier was in for making Dinah smile is crushed with sudden dread.

"Yeah, it does. Especially if it was anywhere near the words "Demon Head" or "Great One," He wearily. At Gregory's nod, he covers his eyes with one hand, feeling a headache build behind his right eye. It's a familiar headache. It usually pops up whenever Bruce Wayne's love life is mentioned.

"I'll call the Big Bad Bat. He'll get her to stop or kiss her. Whatever works. " Oliver sighs, even heavier than before.

"Why?" Gregory asks mystified

"That's Bat's ex."

There is a very long pause before Gregory's guns click again. A rigid set to his shoulders and rage appear in his eyes. "The young girl is Batman's ex? Good to know."

"Young girl? No, Talia is about my age." Dinah cuts in. "Are you sure she answered to Talia?"

The safety is switched back on as Gregory relaxes."Yes. She appeared to be twelve years old or so, with white hair and green eyes. Does that match Batman's honey?"

"Not even close. I mean, the green eyes, sure, but the rest is wrong." Oliver hums. "So we aren't dealing with Bat's girl, which is good for us. The League of Assassins is a pain. Also very dangerous."

Vigilante's eyes widen at the mention of the ninja group's name. "I heard of the organization but was unaware of the members. Is this Talia important in it?"

"She's the big boss's daughter," Dinah confirms. "Also, one of the bloodthirsty and cruelest members."

"That's not very nice," a young voice cuts in, startling the heroes. They leap away from the roof edge, watching a boy with glowing white hair flout over it, crossed-armed. "My daughter is a goddam delight."

"Ra's," Olver shutters. Yes, he looks younger and glowing, but Oliver would never forget that monster's face. He appeared often in his nightmares about the island.

The boy tilted his head. "You know me."

Oliver pulled the string of his bow, training the arrow on the figure; beside him, Gregory had his guns up and ready while Dinah had planted her feet in her preferred combat position. "I never forget a face."

"There is a version of me here," the boy hums, implying so many things that make the three heroes uneasy. "Maybe I wasted time gathering resources when I should have gone looking for the other Fentons."

"What do you mean by that?" Dinah demands, but the boy is already looking away and snapping his fingers.

"Guys! There are other Fentons here!"

Five figures fly up from over a building. Two are glowing, and three are wearing bulky power suits. Oliver's breath catches in his throat. Younger versions of the Demons. The same assisans whose abilities build Ra's empire and are the only ones to control them- the reason he is known as the Demon Head.

"That's great, Danny!" A girl with orange hair cries. She's inside the power suit, and Oliver knows her by her codename. Claw.

"Maybe we can have your dad make us some fudge." A dark-skinned boy licks his lips. He also appropriates a power suit but seems far more decked out for support. Makes sense, seeing as he obviously Scales.

"Let's go. The faster we get home, the faster I can make Vlad by me an island." A glowing teen rolls his eyes. His flaming hair does nothing to take away the fact he is Fang.

"Which way?" the little girl, Talia, asks, making a small circle in the air.

"I saw we find destruction and follow that. It's bound to lead us to them. We can cause chaos on the way." The last girl offers. She points the hand of her supersuit to the west with a nasty grin. It's Shadow. "Can't be worse than the Black Plague incident."

"How was I supposed to know the rats were dangerous!" Ra scoffs, face red in embarrassment. Which would have been amusing if he didn't just admit he caused thousands of lives to end. Oliver really does not like the implications one bit.

"Everyone. Don't you read any history books?"

"I don't need no books to tell me. I was there!"

Oliver thinks they are distracted enough to risk taking a shot. His bowstring snaps into place as his arrow flies towards the closest one. Claw's reaction time is as fast as he remembers because she had already shot the arrow out of the sky before it could go anywhere near Talia. The foam meant to hold her in place burst, covering the six from view.

Gegory's bullets hit it seconds after, burying deep within the hardened foam. The sharpshooter springs to the right, looking for a better target, but it's in vain.

When the foam falls, everyone behind it is gone, and Oliver is reminded that they face ninjas. Gregory lowers his weapon with a frustrated click of his tongue.

What in the world was going on! They were all de-age and somehow powered up. None of this was good.

"We need to call Batman," Dinah says in the silence. "This may be out of our league even with them turned into children."

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #Demon Head slightly to the Left #Part 1 #oliver Queen is not having a good day #Danny Dan Dani Jazz Tucker and Sam are in a different dimension #Danny is Ra's #I love Gregory Sanders when I watched Justice Leauge unlimited #I want him back #Morally grey Danny and Co.

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rakurairagnarok · 5 months

Note

I want to come out as gay, but I’m in a super conservative area (Mississippi) and I’m scared. Could you make me some big, musky, manly Gay so I can fight back if shit gets real?

You quickly get inside your dorm after you saw the package. It had Rakurai Inc. In bold rainbow letters on the top. You opened it up to find a pair of yellow sneakers inside. You frown as they are obviously way to big for your small feet. You sigh and decide to at least try them on.

As soon as you tie the laces, you feel weird. Hot, woozy, foggy in the head. You look down and see your skinny little legs explode with pounds and pounds of muscle.

As it rides up, your ass expands, easily ripping apart your pants. Your cock snakes its way down your leg, dripping onto the floor as you lose ballance and fall on your massive ass.

The feeling continues to travel up, your torso growing in every direction, and your abs pushing outward. Your pecs jiggle as they come to life, bouncing up and down as they grow, while your arms triple in size and flex unstoppably.

Your head gets a rush as your mind slows down and your brain stops working.

A dumb smirk appears on your face as you look at your naked body. Uhhh you should probably like cover up right??

You take off your sneakers, a damp musk immediately spreading through your room, and place them infront of your rod, which slips inside.

You moan as the sweaty confines of the shoe rub against your hard member, and you shoot ropes into your new sneaker.

You look around the room, faintly remembering it looked different, but once you see the filming equipment you remember. You were getting ready to shoot a vid for your only fans, and your bro was coming over to pound your ass.

You might be an idiot but anyone would be stupid to mess with you now. Just don't forget your clothes.

#transformation #rakurai #asks #male muscle growth #gay tf #male transformation #musk #clothing tf #dumbing down

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tumbleweed-run · 5 months

Text

Academia

Female!Tav, Professor Kink

Your breath caught as you froze in the doorway.

It was unreasonable how beautiful Gale was. Always, but especially just now as he sat, distracted, behind a large ornate desk. The afternoon sun filtered through the tall stained glass windows, casting a rainbow of colors across his face as he focused on writing something.

Gale had accepted a teaching position with Blackstaff, upgrading his position with the academy from consultant to professor. Term hadn’t begun yet, instead he was in the building preparing his new office and making lesson plans. You’d hoped to lure him away for a late lunch, as this would be your last chance to do so, but the sight before you had propelled your brain in another direction entirely.

His robes were nowhere to be seen, likely hung properly on the back of the door as the room was quite warm. Instead, Gale was down to his shirt and trousers. His sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows, which was possibly the most erotic thing you’d ever seen. Compounded by the fact that his hair was half up, keeping it from his face as he wrote.

The pooling of heat low in your belly had nothing to do with the temperature of the room.

Gale, of course, chose that exact moment to look up from his writing, not as oblivious to the world as you’d thought. He was laying down his quill, a smile breaking out on his lovely face when he too froze. His eyes darkened with whatever it was he saw on your face.

He recovered his composure quickly and carefully finished putting the quill in its place. You couldn’t help but follow Gale’s movements as he closed the ink pot and put that away as well. He seemed very much aware of your gaze as his next step was to lean back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest.

“Close the door,” he ordered by way of greeting.

You were very proud of yourself for swallowing down the whimper this new position had nearly dragged from your throat. But while you were busy proverbially patting yourself on the back for your vocal restraint, your body had obeyed the order he’d issued.

“Come here,” Gale directed. The hand he stretched out for you betrayed any bite to his words.

Happily, you took it, allowing him to pull you around the side of the desk until were by his side. Only then did Gale turn his body, his knees now bracketed your legs. He looked up at you, hand still holding yours, and searched your face as he asked.

“What can I do for you, darling?”

The memory of why you’d actually come here flittered out of your mind. Instead, a thousand ideas, each less appropriate than the one before, flooded your brain.

“I want to suck your cock, please, professor,” was what spilled from your lips finally.

Gale inhaled sharply at your words, nostrils flaring.

Your cheeks flamed as you suddenly remembered every time you’d gotten a little crush on one of your own professors growing up. You’d had a similar thought months ago when Gale had accepted his new position, but they were just silly memories then. Now you realized exactly how dangerous this new profession of Gale’s was.

Without warning, Gale yanked on your arm, toppling you forward so you were forced to catch yourself on the arms of his chair. Your faces were now inches apart, and you found yourself greedily inhaling each of his exhales. His eyes searched yours, flicking back and forth quickly until they stilled. His whole face relaxed for a moment before morphing into something a bit harder than you were used to.

Not harder. Sterner.

“Then I suggest you make it worth the interruption. I am quite busy,” he directed brusquely.

“Ye-yes, sir,” you stammered, realizing he was playing along with you.

You barely felt any pain as your knees collided with the stone floor. If the bulge in his pants was any indication, Gale was just as affected by the situation as you were. Quickly, you opened the laces of his trousers. A bit too eagerly, perhaps, because his hand threaded through your hair, and he gave a sharp tug.

“Gently,” he warned, “I do need to look presentable later.”

Slowing down your hands was near torture, but eventually, you managed to undo his pants and free Gale’s cock. You gave no warning before swallowing him down and Gale moaned. His whole body tensed for a moment, hand tugging in your hair once again before he relaxed - legs stretching out on either side of you.

You eagerly worked him with your mouth, one hand grasping the base of his cock to work what you couldn’t comfortably fit. Maybe you should have been ashamed of the drool that escaped your lips, cascading down your own fist but you couldn’t bring yourself to be. Instead, you sucked and licked at Gale’s cock until your jaw began to ache.

Gale groaned above you, his breaths growing louder and more labored the longer you worked him. His hand in your hair flexed, occasionally tugging but mostly just there as if to anchor him. You could feel the muscles in his thighs flex around you as well.

You snuck a glance up at him from under your lashes and found him watching you. Gale snuck a hand under your chin and tilted your face just slightly upwards to make maintaining eye contact easier. You were barely able to keep his cock in your mouth as he did, forced to still your ministrations.

Gale kept your eyes locked as he experimentally rolled his hips, the head of his cock butting against your hard palate. He did this a few times. You desperately wished he would release your chin so you could reposition your mouth, allowing him access to fuck your throat. But instead, he gently pulled you away from him. You whimpered when you were finally forced to let his cock fall from your lips.

“Up,” he ordered, voice rough.

You stood, absentmindedly wiping your hand on your own pants.

Gale stood once you were fully up, his body came flush against yours. It made it all the more easy for him to manuever you backwards against the desk. He leaned down towards you, and for a second you thought he was about to kiss you. Right up until his lips ghosted across your cheek to your ear.

“Pull down your pants and turn around,” he rumbled quietly into your ear.

You frowned at the kiss you weren’t granted but even still you were quickly undoing your pants. You didn’t give a single shit if you looked presentable later, your clothes were suddenly an unacceptable barrier between the two of you, and you worked quickly. Gale didn’t back away as you turned, instead you were forced to jostle against him. The length of his cock dragged against your clothes the entire time.

He didn’t wait for you to pull down your trousers. Instead, he grabbed hold of them and pulled them down to your thighs. You barely had a moment to register this before Gale was pressing you down over the desk, hand firm between your shoulder blades. He shifted behind you and you felt his cock slot into place along the cleft of your ass.

The pressure on your back turned to a gently caressing motion. You tried to turn your head to look at him but your own hair impeded your vision.

“Be a good girl and keep quiet,” Gale directed, “we don’t want anyone to know you’re letting your professor fuck you over his desk.”

Your thighs involuntarily clamped together at his words. Gale felt it if the light rumble of laughter from above was any indication.

You could feel him take hold of his cock a moment before he angled it between your thighs. He didn’t bother to try to press inside of you. Instead, he drug his cock slowly between your folds allowing to head to brush against your clit, forcing a whimper out of you each time it did. You bit back the noise the best you could and only once he rubbed against you and you managed nothing more than a sharp intake of breath did Gale finally realign himself to press into you.

He moved slowly as he pressed into you. No matter how wet you were, without any preparation, his cock felt impossibly blunt and impossibly thick. You could feel a dull ache as he continued working into you. You were panting through your nose by the time Gale bottomed out, hips flush against your ass. Not with pain, but instead with the control you were issuing upon your body. Demanding your hips not just snap back against him so he would finally get to fucking you.

Gale seemed to read your mind, and his hands moved to hold your hips in place, pinned against the edge fo the desk. He held that position for what seemed like forever. You bit back several demands to move that you wanted to issue, instead focusing on the way the parchment you were plastered against fluttered with each of your breaths.

Finally, he began to move. Slowly, no doubt still wary of hurting you. But each movement was quicker than the one before until the room was filled with the sound of Gale’s skin colliding with yours. Each thrust forcing out a tiny grunt from you, barely more than a puff of breath.

You gripped the edge of the desk near your hips for leverage as you pressed back against Gale. Pressing up on your tiptoes the angle changed, and the first thrust forced a whimper from your lips. Audibly you clamped your teeth together, trying to swallow back the noises you desperately wanted to make. Gale either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He was fucking into you quickly now, his own grunts sounding punched from his chest. He was close.

Ignoring the aching of your calves, you kept onto your toes. You could feel your own orgasm building. Gale shifted behind you until he was leaning over your back, one of his hands leaving your hip to snake beneath you. Taking advantage of the new space you’d created beneath you, he worked his fingers between your legs. At the first brush of his fingertip against your clit you forgot yourself and moaned loudly.

Gale froze instantly.

You cringed, swearing you could hear the forbidden sounds still echoing off the stone walls.

You held still as well. Hoping he’d forgive you and take your renewed silence as an apology.

“Please, professor” you whispered after it appeared Gale was never going to move again. “I’m sorry. I’ll be quiet. Please,” you begged.

“Not another sound,” Gale warned.

As if to make a point, it was his fingers that moved first. Rubbing against your clit lightly, daring you to so much as whimper at the sensation. You managed to bite back each down, eyes slamming shut with the effort.

“Good girl,” Gale praised in a hushed tone, as he kept up with his fingers against your clit, cock still buried motionlessly inside of you. The walls of your cunt fluttered at his praise.

Your orgasm built quickly at his touch but no amount of wiggling around his cock brought the relief you were looking for. By this point you were sweating, the papers you were laying on undoubtedly ruined. But gods, you wanted them to be. Wanted Gale to have to look at the sweat smudged ink and relive this moment over and over in this room.

Gale, perhaps out of pity or selfishness, finally began thrusting into you again. It only took three sharp thrusts for you to come with a silent scream. Your mouth hung open, but no sound or air was able to force its way out. Above you, Gale came with a whispered curse, both hands holding tightly to your hips once more as he buried himself inside of you.

After a moment, he collapsed against your back, both of you panting in rhythm. Your ribs expanding while his contracted. Over and over until your breaths slowed.

Gale’s grip on your hips grew gentle as he held you still and pulled his half-softened cock from you. You snorted a laugh, both your hair and the papers rustling with your breath as you felt the mess of your combined orgasms drip down your thigh. You heard more than saw Gale collapse back into his chair, and after a moment, he pulled you back into his lap. Unaware or uncaring of the mess.

#gale x reader #gale x female reader #gale x tav #gale x female tav #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #hello I am not dead #and i am absolutely the target audience for professor dekarios #its harder to write lately as the baby is 6 months and sleeps less during the day

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justmediocrewriting · 4 months

Text

“White Lace,” {v.s}

Summary: it’s laundry day on the Merry, and ever the gentleman, Sanji offered to take Nami’s place when the navigator explained that she was too exhausted to attend to the chore. Sanji expected to simply find a sore back and pruny fingers by doing so, but instead he found much more…

Or: Sanji finds a pair of your white lace underwear, and you catch him in the middle of washing them, resulting in some tension and embarrassment between the both of you.

Genre: spice (no smut, but dirty thoughts and suggestive themes)

Pairing: Sanji x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Requested: ❌

Warnings: I kinda feel this could fall under voyeurism to an extent, because Sanji does find a pair of your panties and kind of like plays with them, so maybe it does? Idk. Some rather not-so-innocent thoughts from Sanji, sexualization, very slight virginity kink if you squint really hard, panty sniffing, panty licking, sexual tension(ish?), female pronouns and parts mentioned

A/n: so I’ve got roughly 10+ things in my drafts right now but this literally WOULD NOT LEAVE ME ALONE, so I knew I had to write it. I hope you hoes enjoy ❤️ might do a part 2 idkkkk. 18+ under the cut, ye have been warned.

{=================================}

Sanji found comfort in routine. For some, a humdrum life would become quickly boring, but for Sanji repetition was key to his sanity. It was the main reason that Sanji was so fluidly quick in creating a new routine from the first day he’d agreed to set sail with Luffy — that and that it had helped cure the insistent anxiety of being at sea again after so many years of remaining stationary.

Sanji greatly disliked breaking routine unless the situation absolutely called for it; a battle, for example, or in this morning’s case, a beautiful woman asking him for help.

Sanji enjoyed routine, but he enjoyed satisfying women a lot more.

So when Nami had entered the galley, hair mussed and eyes hazy and unfocused with a small basket of laundry perched delicately on her hip, Sanji was quick to abandon the first step of his daily routine (taking inventory of the galley stock) and pluck the basket from her arm.

Nami sighed gratefully and her shoulders slumped with relief.

“Thanks, Sanji.” Nami muttered, voice heavy with exhaustion, and Sanji felt his heart lurch with sympathy. It wasn’t as though he was a stranger to fatigue.

“I spent most of the night drawing the charts to the next few islands. I guess I got so wrapped up in it I just hadn’t noticed how much time had passed.”

Sanji nodded along to her explanation as he gently set the basket of clothes atop the island counter, and in the process he inadvertently let his eyes skim across the articles within. Colors popped against one another, like a cluttered rainbow of pinks, blues, whites, reds, and teals — from what Sanji could see they were mostly shirts.

“Laundry day, aye?” Sanji asked conversationally, tearing his eyes from the basket to smile at Nami. She groaned and brought a hand up to massage the back of her neck as she nodded.

“Yeah. There’s a few of my shirts in there, but it’s mostly (Y/N)’s clothes. She washed mine last week, so I agreed to wash hers this week.”

Sanji frowned and appraised the tired woman before him; it pained him to see a woman like Nami having to work so hard. He’d always felt that life at sea, what with so much to maintain, was far too harsh for a lady — ladies were meant to be spoiled and taken care of, at least in Sanji’s eyes. Nami had chosen a life at sea, and Sanji knew that with this decision she’d long accepted the responsibilities of such, and he had no doubt that Nami could handle it, but if Sanji could do something to help relieve her of some of the work he would.

“I can take care of it for you, if you want.” Sanji said, and Nami’s eyes snapped open. She looked equal parts relieved and panicked by his offer, and she hesitated for a moment before shaking her head.

“No, Sanji, I couldn’t ask that of you. You’ve already got enough on your plate.” Nami murmured, and then, as if it were an afterthought, she added, “we all do.”

Sanji rolled his shoulders in dismissal of her worry. “You’re not asking, love. I’m offering. And I’m not too terribly busy; it’s still early, so I’ll have plenty of time to prep breakfast before Luffy wakes up.”

Nami bit her lip, and she looked minutely closer to accepting the offer, but there was still a hardened hesitation in her eyes. Sanji smiled ever gently at her.

“It’s alright, Nami. Why not go back to your quarters and rest for a bit? I’ll take care of this.”

Finally, Nami sighed and relented to acceptance. With a small but grateful nod, she gave Sanji a tired smile before turning on her heel to exit the galley; before she did so, she placed a manicured hand against the door frame and sent him one last glance.

“Really, Sanji, thank you. Once you’re done washing them you don’t have to worry about hanging them to dry; just come get me and I’ll do that.” And with that Nami breezed from the galley, and Sanji gave a small chuckle at her attempt to take some of the load off of him. Even if it was Nami’s turn to do the laundry as was her responsibility, Sanji wouldn’t allow her to set them to dry — he’d do that himself, as well; and he even set it in his mind that he’d fold them as well.

It wasn’t until Sanji pulled out the first shirt that he began to feel as though he shouldn’t have offered his help; because the fabric in his hand was familiar, and it dawned on him that the majority of the clothes in the basket were yours. It was a detail that Sanji had skimmed by when Nami was explaining the situation, and now the reality of it was hitting him like a ton of bricks.

Sanji’s skin prickled as if he were committing the most atrocious sin, and he had to take a deep breath to calm himself. The shirt in his hand was one of your favorites; you’d worn it a lot, and just looking at the rumpled article supplied Sanji with various memories of you donning it. It looked rather pleasant on you, especially when the hem of it rose slightly to reveal the smallest sliver of skin when you moved in just the right way, and Sanji had to quickly place it back in the basket and take a deep inhale to staunch the blood flowing towards his groin.

Sanji’s attraction to you was something that he vaguely felt might be out of hand; he was a lover of women, yes, but never had he experienced a pull as strong as the one he had towards you. Maybe it was the way innocence practically poured from your aura, or the way your cheeks brightened with any pet name or compliment he offered you, as if such attention was a completely new experience for you — whatever it was, it was highly alluring to Sanji, and he found himself wanting more and more of it – of you – every day.

Sanji flared his nostrils a few more times, every breath deep and steadying, repeatedly telling himself that he wasn’t doing anything wrong and his intentions were of the best, and to get a fucking grip, Sanji. Just wash the clothes and be normal!

As he relocated the basket next to the sink and pulled out a pale yellow shirt Sanji deliberately tried to focus his thoughts on anything other than the fact that he was touching your clothes, that you’d worn them and they’d clung to your skin and more than likely smelled of you, of that wonderful floral perfume that was subtle but nearly overpowering in close proximity — that thought alone had Sanji itching to bring the fabric to his nose and inhale, and he had to quickly turn the faucet on and shove the article beneath the stream of water to avoid doing so.

Piece by piece, mechanically and as empty headed as possible, Sanji soaked and washed the clothes under the stream of water, wringing each article out generously to avoid the chance of mildew. By the time he was half way through the basket, Sanji felt confident that he could get through the process without too much trouble (or too many inappropriate thoughts or southward flowing blood); but that was quickly wiped from his psyche when he mindlessly groped within the basket and laid touch to something soft and small and lacy.

Upon pulling it out to examine it, Sanji was hit with a flush of arousal so strong that it nearly knocked him off his feet; gripped within his fingers, soft and lacy and so, so delicate looking, was a pair of white, sheer panties. Sanji’s entire being short circuited, train of thought screeching to a halt and brain being instead assaulted by a myriad of images — of those sheer white panties clinging to your hips, cupping the swell of your ass in such a tantalizing way, hem resting against your tummy and rising in time with your labored breaths as Sanji picked you apart molecule by molecule —

“Stop,” Sanji hissed to himself, cursing his traitorous dick when it hardened to half mast in his dress pants, twitching in approval with each new image and thought that flashed into his hind brain. Sanji knew he should look away, knew he could stop these reactions if he just put the panties away, abandoned the task and fetched Nami instead to finish it — and though Sanji swore to himself that he wouldn’t do that due to his pride as a gentleman, the deepest part of him knew that he wasn’t going to do it because he was curious, and he was enjoying this, as much as that fact ashamed him.

Panties were one of the most, if not the most, intimate articles of clothing a woman could wear; they covered the sweetest fruit, kept it protected and out of sight, and they constantly shifted and hugged that sensitive pearl beneath. They were precious, and the fact that they belonged to you made them even more so.

Sanji nearly groaned at the thought; he could so clearly see you wearing the panties, see the way they hugged against your pussy, could imagine just how drenched the center would get as he worked you into oblivion with his lips —

Sanji opened the panties and this time, a groan did slip past his lips — because right there, in the center of the bridge of the panties, right where they would cling to your pussy, the fabric was slightly darker, and Sanji’s dick jumped at the sight. The overwhelming urge to shove them against his nose and breathe in the phantom traces of your slick sent alternating waves of arousal and intense shame through Sanji, because that was dirty, these panties were dirty, they were yours and it would be such an abuse of your trust in him if he did something like that — but the longer he stared, the stronger the urge became, and soon enough arousal had completely consumed shame, and Sanji quickly brought the panties to his face, shoving his nose directly into the center and inhaling. Sanji panted heavily against the fabric as the sweet scent entered his nostrils; it was faint, as he’d assumed it would be, but it was there, and it was so much sweeter than Sanji could have ever imagined.

Sanji pressed his hips into the counter as he took in lungfuls of your scent, hissing lowly at the pressure against the straining bulge in his pants, hips moving just so to chase a semblance of friction — consumed by sudden lust and the thought of you, the scent of you, and the urge to taste where you were sweetest, Sanji laved his tongue against the dried patch of slick, moaning haughtily into the softness of your panties.

Sanji’s surroundings and reality seemed to completely melt away as he lost himself within the sensations of smelling and tasting you, something he so longed for — just as much as he longed to corrupt you, to show you all the naughty things he shouldn’t, like he longed to see you wearing these panties, so innocent and white, and see them become forever stained from actions that were too devious and sinful for such a color.

Sanji wanted to stain you — he wanted your innocent little brain to fog over with lust, to see you discombobulate on his cock as he stretched you wide, as he took you to heights you’d never been, watch those beautiful eyes of yours roll back and watch you bare that lovely neck to him, to bite and mark and cover, to claim you, inside and out.

Sanji let out a guttaral groan as his hips picked up speed; the counter was firm and hard against his cock, a far cry from the soft, wet warmth he craved to be buried inside, but it offered friction, and with how hard his cock was, that’s what he needed, even if it was a bit unpleasant.

As consumed as he was by the myriad of sensations stoking his arousal, the soft rapping of knuckles against the wooden doorframe of the galley was almost lost on him; but thankfully, his ears had picked it up, and as if they had burned him, Sanji threw the panties into the sink below him. There was a soft splat against the steel, and Sanji winced as he realized the bridge of the panties had been soaked with his saliva — thankfully, the sound was too faint to be heard from the doorway, and the relief that offered Sanji increased tenfold as he turned to look over his shoulder and caught sight of you.

Sanji’s breath caught in his throat, and nearly all traces of arousal had been chased away by deep-seated shame, and Sanji did his best to smile at you through the guilt.

“Good morning, love. Is there something you need?” Sanji forced his voice to stay calm despite the sheer panic and guilt threatening to weigh it down; Sanji’s heart was thundering within his chest, battering against his ribcage with the force of a raging bull, and he willed his erection to just go away —

But his dick was not cooperating with him, and it stayed rock hard within his pants as you smiled back shyly and began to approach him; as you turned the corner of the island counter, Sanji belatedly realized that you had a small basket tucked under your arm, with a few articles of clothing within.

“Nothing much, Sanji. Nami told me you were helping with the laundry today, and I found these in our room so I thought I’d bring them in and offer you some help—”

Sanji watched with growing dread as you paused just a couple inches from the sink, your eyes zeroing in on the panties within and widening as your mouth dropped into an ‘o’ shape (which did not help with his erection, as his mind went to very shadowy places from the sight), and your cheeks went from normal to beet red in seconds (which also didn’t help, because it was far too pretty of a color on you).

Heavy, awkward silence fell over the galley as you stared, frozen, at the sink — Sanji wanted to look away from you, knew that you were far beyond embarrassed right now and that his staring was certainly not helping, but he simply couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Arousal was still thrumming beneath his skin, and it was like seeing you in a whole new light; knowing that those sweet, innocent, pretty panties belonged to you, that you’d worn them, that they sat snugly against your pussy and became saturated in you, in your innocence, had his dick twitching and fingers itching to pull your body flush against his. He wanted to see you wearing them for him, wanted you to bend over and present to him, so that he could see the outline of your pussy, soaked and ready, through the fabric —

Sanji inhaled sharply and tore his eyes away from you, and part of him wanted to stutter out an apology, beg for your forgiveness — he was being so shameful, sexualizing you objectifying you in the way he was, craving to take away your innocence, something that was so deeply ingrained into who you were —

But the words were stuck in his throat, unable to move past the lump of sheer shame and regret, and even if they could, would Sanji really have the courage to admit what he’d done, let alone apologize for it?

He truly didn’t know if he would.

Sanji’s actions had been so unbecoming, had went against the very essence of his code — but that was just the simple fact of it; you had this effect on him, a tendency to bring out the worst in him. And if Sanji were being honest with himself, he enjoyed it. He secretly loved the fact that you could draw that dormant beast from its slumber, all without even knowing you were doing it.

“Those, um… those are…” to Sanji’s surprise, it was your voice that broke the silence, and though he knew it would only stir him up more, Sanji snapped his eyes to you. You vehemently ignored any eye contact with him, gaze still locked on the sink, and in the blink of an eye with movements that were much faster than Sanji’s fuddled mind could perceive, your hand shot out and you ripped the panties from the sink, throwing them hastily into the basket before resituating it on your hip.

“I’ll w-wash these later,” you mumbled, cheeks still flaming, and Sanji hated the way his dick twitched at the sight. It was such a show of innocent bashfulness that it made Sanji heat from the inside out. Finally, you made the briefest of eye contact with him and gave him a small nod. “Carry on.”

Then you were turning on your heel and swiftly exiting the galley, leaving Sanji alone with his own thoughts, a half empty laundry basket, and a roaring flame of shame and guilt that Sanji didn’t think could ever be doused.

#opla #opla sanji #opla sanji x reader #sanji x reader #op #one piece

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dreaming-medium · 4 months

Text

Just Look Up

Pairing: Kim Seungmin x reader

Word count: 4.4K

Tags: Angst, pining, fluff, best friends to lovers

Summary: Seungmin’s been watching you from an arm’s length for so long, his heart yearning to be closer to you. All he wants is to to hold you, to be held by you. Why can’t you just look up and notice how much he loves you? Why do you stay with your horribly toxic boyfriend when Seungmin’s right there?

Author’s note: Please listen to this song and picture Seungmin singing it, oh god it destroys me.

Warning!!! The reader has a pretty toxic boyfriend in this fic!!

————————————————————————

How are you this perfect? How can you go day to day being so flawless and not even realize just how breathtaking you are?

After being best friends for years, there isn’t a single hour of the day that Seungmin hasn’t seen you at, and never once have you been anything but amazing. Even when your hair is frizzy and tied up, face puffy from sleep, eyes bleary and asymmetrical, you’re still gorgeous.

Just the thought of you alone has Kim Seungmin weak in the knees. Every little quirk of yours drives him crazy. From the way you stick your tongue out when you concentrate to the way you always overcook your rice.

He craves the simple, sweet, delightful smell of your apartment. The way your TV is always on even if you’re not watching it. The way every room in the house is spotless except for your bedroom which goes from organized to a disaster in just a few short days.

Seungmin can never get enough of you. Never has been able to, and he never will.

Which is why it hurts so bad that you’re with someone else. You and your boyfriend have been together for four months. Four painful, excruciating months.

The guy doesn’t even understand how good he has it. He does t grasp how lucky he is to have captured your heart.

What is Seungmin supposed to do when he comes over for movie night and that jackass is sitting on the couch next to you? His stomach flips and churns uncontrollably until he makes up some lame excuse to leave early.

Your boyfriend doesn’t even treat you the way you deserve and it boils Seungmin’s blood.

Right before his very eyes, he watches as your chump of a boyfriend drops your hand when you tried to hold it during a big group dinner. Seungmin had been sitting directly across from the two of you at the large table full of a mixed bag of friends.

Innocently, and with the most adorable smile ever, you reached down and laced your fingers with your boyfriends. As if you burned him, he drops your hand and motions down to his food.

“How am I supposed to eat if you’re holding my hand?” he asks with an annoyed tilt to his tone.

“Oh,” you frown, that gorgeous smile of yours was wiped off your face. “Sorry, hon.”

“It’s whatever,” he replies and goes back to the conversation that he was in beforehand.

Meanwhile Seungmin was seething. He watched the entire interaction like some sort of car accident. Does the guy need two hands to eat? What kind of lame excuse was that?

The rest of the night, your mood was different. Your smile didn’t reach your eyes. And your laughter sounded fake and hollow.

No one seemed to notice.

No one except for Seungmin who took it upon himself to go up to the bar and order your favorite drink on his way to the bathroom. He told the waiter not to say anything about him being the one to order it.

It was already in front of you when he returned from the restroom.

“Look, Minnie!” you chirp while he’a sitting down. “The bartender said they made an extra by accident and gave us this drink on the house!”

A rainbow stretches over his heart at how happy you sound. But dark clouds come crashing through just as quickly.

Your boyfriend look down at the drink as you were about to take your first sip.

“Hey!” he calls out and places his hand over the top of the drink before you could even taste it. “You’re the one driving home.”

Your expression fell. “What? But you said you would drive home this time.” You look around the table and lower your voice to keep it between the two of you. “I’ve driven home every time we’ve gone out, I never get to—“

Your boyfriend slides the drink away from in front of you at the same time he kisses your lips gently. You don’t respond to the kiss at all, you don’t even close your eyes. “Thanks, babe. You’re the best.”

He leans away from you and picks the drink up, taking a sip from the straw. His face twists up in a disgusted expression.

“Fuck, what even is this?” he asks, looking down at the drink.

“It’s a Long Island…” you murmur, looking down at the table.

“Who drinks this shit?” He places it down on the table and pushes it away from him.

You do. It’s your favorite drink. You always order a Long Island no matter where you go. How does the guy not know that? What boyfriend doesn’t know his girlfriend’s favorite drink?

What kind of shit head does that?

Seungmin is seeing red. He wants to vault the table and throttle the guy. His shoulders are shaking he’s so angry.

Your demeanor drops even further through the floor, taking Seungmin’s heart with you. No matter what conversation anyone tries to pull you into, you only offer one word answers.

Your boyfriend barely pays any mind to you.

Seungmin nudges your ankle underneath the table. You look up at him with dull eyes. He motions for a writing utensil in the air.

You think for a moment, turning and fishing through your purse until you pull out a pen and hand it to him.

He flips the paper placemat over on the table and draws a tic-tac-toe board on the back. He draws one ‘X’ in a box and then slides it across the table at you.

When you look down, the corner of your lip quirks in a tiny smile. You take the pen and draw an ‘O’ in another box, then slide it back to him.

This continues a few times before the game comes out to a tie.

Wordlessly, he meets your eyes with a cocked eyebrow. You nod. He draws another board and you do it again.

With each X and O that’s drawn on the back of the paper placemat, life returns to your eyes. You even let out a few giggles when Seungmin makes a ridiculously terrible move.

Each and every game comes out in a tie until you make a specific, unbeatable move. Seungmin looks down at the board for a few drawn out seconds.

He bites his lip with a grin. “There’s no move I can do that you won’t win.”

“I know!” you cheer and laugh. “I mastered the technique.”

“You didn’t master shit,” he grumbles in fake annoyance. “You cheated.”

Balking, you gasp. “I never cheat, Kim Seungmin.”

“Well, you just cheated at tic-tac-toe so you’re also a liar.”

“I didn’t cheat!

“Did so.”

“Did n—“ You’re cut off by a hand on your arm.

“We’re going.” Your boyfriend’s voice is gruff, slurred, and a bit agitated.

For what seems like the hundredth time tonight, your face falls when you look at him. “What do you mean? We just finished dinner and I thought that we’re going to the karaoke bar after this.”

“Not anymore.” He grabs your jacket off the back of your chair. “Come on, get your purse, we’re going.”

“But—“

“We’re going.”

Your body tenses and your mouth flies shut.

By the flush that crawls up your neck, Seungmin can tell you’re embarrassed. Embarrassed that you would let someone speak to you this way. Embarrassed because now most of your friends were watching you both closely.

You’ve always hated confrontation.

You take a deep breath and push back from the table, seemingly giving up. Seungmin has had enough.

“I think she wants to stay,” Seungmin says from across the table. “Can’t you call an Uber or have someone else take you home?”

Your boyfriend’s eyes flash with anger. “Hey, why don’t you stay out of our business?”

Seungmin’s nose twitches, he’s gripping the pen in his hand so hard it might snap in half.

“I just think that you’re ignoring the fact that she doesn��t want to leave.”

You look over at Seungmin. “It’s okay, Minnie. I’ll go out another time, promise.”

His gaze softens when you call his name.

“Yeah, Minnie, she’ll go out another time.” Your slime of a significant other slides his arm around your waist and pulls you away from the table.

You only fight his pull for a moment, glaring at the side of your boyfriend’s face before looking over at Seungmin one last time.

You’re apologizing with your eyes. Seungmin can read you too well. The two of you never needed words to communicate.

Then, you’re gone. And everyone else around him continues to talk as if nothing happened.

Seungmin flexes his jaw while he fights back his anger. A small part of him wants to run after the two of you and deck your boyfriend in the parking lot.

But, it’s not worth it. Who knows how you’d react to that.

He looks down at the paper placemat and draws your final ‘O’, drawing the line across to signify your win.

Seungmin doesn’t go to the karaoke bar that night either.

____________________________________

It was the next night when you texted him.

[January 10 1:26 AM]

Y/N: Are you awake?

Seungmin was about three seconds from sleep when his phone buzzed. Normally, he would ignore it and answer in the morning, but something in his brain told him to roll over and check anyway.

His eyes widened at your text, his thumbs flying to answer you.

Seungmin: I am, what’s up?

Y/N: Can you come over?

This late? You’re asking him to come over now? Sure, it’s a Saturday but it’s still strange.

Y/N: Please. I need you here.

Seungmin: I’ll be there in 10

He only took seven minutes to get to your apartment. The other three were spent jogging through the parking lot and up the stairs to your floor.

Only one knock lands on the door before you rip it open.

Seungmin’s heart falls through his chest.

You’re looking up at him with red rimmed, glassy eyes. Tears flowing down your flushed cheeks.

“Hi, Minnie,” you choke out.

Seungmin steps inside and looks all over your body, trying to find any sign of an injury or anything. “What’s going on?” he asks in alarm.

He cups your cheeks and looks in your eyes after kicking the door shut. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” you cry. “‘M sorry if I scared you.” Another sob wracks your chest. You throw your arms around Seungmin, burying your face into his chest. His own arms immediately fly around your body.

“I broke up with him,” you mumble into Seungmin’s hoodie.

It’s shameful how his spirits lifted. Internally, Seungmin wants to pump his fist in the air and jump around. He wants to stand on your balcony and scream victory at the top of his lungs.

But externally, he keeps his cool, one hand moving to rub your back in soothing circles.

Fucking finally.

“What happened?” he asks gently, resting his chin on the top of your head.

You force a dry laugh. “It’s been coming for a while, I couldn’t fucking stand the way he talked to me last night.”

Seungmin laughs under his breath. Yeah, yeah he saw it. He wasn’t the only one that wondered why the hell you were still with the guy.

“He always talked to me like trust. I just…” You sniff and bury your face further into Seungmin’s hoodie. “I think I just liked having someone, you know?”

Seungmin’s heart clenches.

“It was nice having someone who at least pretended to like me like that.”

Do you not see him? Do you not see the way he looks at you whenever you walk into a room? How his entire demeanor perks up by your very presence?

If he had a tail, it would wag whenever you blessed him with your presence.

You let out another sob and hold him closer. “God, why am I crying so much?”

Seungmin grabs both of your upper arms and rubs up and down a few times. “Here,” he says gently. “Why don’t you sit on the couch and I’ll make you some tea, okay?”

Nodding, you pull away from him and wipe at your cheeks with your sweater sleeves. “Yeah, okay.”

He reaches out and uses his own sweatshirt sleeve to wipe at your cheeks with great care. “I’ll only be a few seconds, okay?”

Again, you nod. But your body makes no move away from him. You lean into his gentle touch, craving the closeness of it all. Eyes sliding close, your lip quivers with more cries.

His fingers poke out from the sleeve and run down your tear-stained cheek. His hands are always so warm.

It could be the dead of winter or the middle of summer, his hands were always warmer than yours. But even an ice sculpture’s body held more heat than yours did.

On several occasions, you would shove your hands into Seungmin’s pockets to thaw your frozen digits.

He can still remember last winter where you unzipped his huge, puffy jacket and then zipped it back up with you inside of it, your back to his chest. Seungmin can’t remember a time where his heart was beating faster than that day.

He had warmed you right back up, gladly sharing his body heat to keep you toasty warm. He even went as far as wrapping his scarf around both of you.

The bus came late that night to pick the two of you up from that stop and he was grateful for every single second he got to spend wrapped around you.

You’ve always been his soft spot.

Seungmin cups your cheeks with both hands, thumbs swiping away the tears that keep falling. Your tongue pokes from your lips and then you bring your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Tea will make you better,” he whispers. Seungmin leans forward and presses his lips to your forehead.

The happy sigh that you let out doesn’t escape his notice. It was a sigh that was reserved for when you were relaxing after being tense for so long.

He’s heard it after you’ve kicked your shoes off after a long work day. After the first bite of a hot dinner. After curling up in a cozy blanket on Friday night.

And now when his lips meet your skin.

It wraps around his heart and squeezes even tighter.

He pulls away first and nudges you backwards a bit. “Go sit down.”

“Okay,” you answer with a whisper, turning and making your way to the couch while he moves into the kitchen.

He meanders around like it’s second nature, there’s not a single dish in your kitchen that he doesn’t know where it is.

There’s a pan full of cold food sitting on top of the stove. It looks like it was never served.

So, you haven’t even eaten.

Seungmin clicks the burner on to reheat the food while he switches the electric kettle on.

When he comes in with a full plate of food and hot tea, you’re on your phone with a scowl on your face.

“What is it?” He decides to be nosy.

“He’s texting me.” You don’t look up at Seungmin as he places everything on the coffee table in front of you.

“Don’t answer,” he says simply.

“I’m not. But he’s just…” you trail off. “Being so mean.”

Seungmin’s eyebrows furrow. “Show me.”

You only hesitate for a moment before showing him your phone.

[January 10 2:02 AM]

DON’T ANSWER: I’ll be here when you decide to stop being a bitch and remember you need me.

DON’T ANSWER: As if you could even do any better than me, did you think about that? Have you seen yourself and then looked at me?

DON’T ANSWER: You’re the one who said relationships are all about compromise and some shit. So why are you making all the fucking rules?

DON’T ANSWER: so now you’re not even going to answer??? You’re leaving me on read??

DON’T ANSWER: cunt

DON’T ANSWER: couldn’t even give good head, what good are you for anyway.

The rage Seungmin felt last night is nothing compared to what he feels right now. His hands are shaking with thinly veiled anger. His eyebrows are furrowed so much his face might start cramping.

He grabs your phone away from you and looks closer at the texts to make sure his eyes are seeing this right.

“Don’t say anything,” you say quickly.

“I won’t,” Seungmin replies angrily. His teeth might shatter from how hard he’s clenching his jaw.

Who the fuck says this to someone? Someone with a majorly bruised ego, that’s who.

He takes it upon himself to tap through your ex-boyfriend’s contact and block him. Your phone is thrown onto the coffee table soon after.

You don’t address it. You sip your tea and take an uneasy bite out of your food.

Seungmin’s leg starts bouncing on the floor. He’s never been a particularly angry guy, his emotions are always in check. Usually with situations that get him upset, he lets it roll off his shoulders.

But that’s when it’s about him. This is about you.

You, who finally stood up for yourself and you’re getting shit for it.

The sound of the plate and mug being placed on the coffee table hits his ears.

“Minnie,” you say gently, letting your hand slide up his arm. “I think you’re more upset about those texts than I am.”

Seungmin huffs and bites his lip. “How could he say that shit about you?”

“I wounded his fragile ego, that’s why,” you chuckle dryly.

Your touch is soothing. Like an ice pack on a burn.

“What happened?” he asks, looking over at you. “What happened between the two of you?”

You gulp and avoid his eyes. “After last night when we got home, I didn’t say a word to him, I didn’t have the energy for it. I dropped him off at his apartment and he got so mad that I didn’t stay the night.”

Your legs pull up under you, your hand drops from Seungmin’s arm to wrap around yourself. “He came over tonight since we usually have dinner on Saturdays together and just… everything went to shit before we ate. I told him how he spoke to me and acted yesterday was unacceptable and he just went off on me.”

You’re right, though. It was unacceptable. It was uncalled for, rude, toxic, disgusting, all the above.

“I said I was done. He blew up; spouting all this nonsense about how he’s the best I’ll ever have and blah blah blah.” You pause and let out another dry laugh of disbelief. “It’s funny cause he’s actually the worst. Even my dumb high school and college boyfriends were better than him.”

A small furl of jealousy bubbles in Seungmin’s gut, but he stamps it down.

“Why were you with him for so long, Y/N?” The questions comes out of his mouth before he could stop it. You stayed with the guy for four months, about to hit five.

You swallow thickly. “Loneliness?” You shrug and fiddle with your hands in your lap. “I… I liked the way he looked at me in the beginning I guess. It made me feel wanted.”

How was he looking at you any differently than Seungmin was? He stares at you every single day with his big puppy dog eyes just waiting for you to look up!

Just look up!

“I was…” Again, you hesitate, trailing off and biting your lip nervously. “I was trying to get over someone else truth be told. After pining for so long I couldn’t take the one sidedness of it.”

Seungmin feels his heart crack. God, how much more of this can he take? Even before all of this, someone else had your heart?

“So, it’s like I’m back to square one again.” You run your fingers through your already messy hair.

“You still have feelings for this person?”

“Yeah.” You look around the room and then directly at Seungmin. “They never went away. Maybe that’s why I’m so upset. Not because of my ex but because I have to go back to yearning for him to just look up and see how much I like him.”

He’s trying so hard to be a good friend, he really is. His happiness at your freedom was so short lived. He got, what? Twenty minutes? Twenty minutes of hope.

But he needs to be supportive.

“Y/N.” His voice cracks when he says your name. “You’re… amazing and beautiful and intelligent. I’m sure whoever has your heart would bend over backwards for an opportunity to be with you.”

Your eyes sparkle when he speaks.

Fuck, stop making this harder than it already has to be, please.

“You think so?”

“I know so. If it’s a guy, you just gotta be direct. Look him right in the eye and say ‘I have feelings for you’”

You tongue your cheek and think about something for a long five seconds before speaking up again. You stare at Seungmin directly in the eye and speak.

“I have feelings for you.”

“Yeah, just like that. See? It’s easy.”

“I have feelings for you,” you repeat with a little more feeling. He can’t look at you anymore. It hurts too much.

Seungmin’s head hangs down a bit, hair falling in front of his eyes. “Yeah, Y/N. You got the hang of it.”

“No, Seungmin.” You crawl closer to him on the couch until you’re kneeling directly next to him. You take his face in both of your hands. “I have feelings for you.”

What?

Is the world still turning? Is he awake? Is he interpreting this right? Are you still practicing?

“Huh?” Smooth, Kim, smooth.

“Seungmin, I have feelings for you. I have for so long and I was so scared of losing you as a friend so I didn’t say anything.”

His brain is malfunctioning. His heart surely is going to explode from the fluctuations in his heart rate.

Him? You had feelings for him this whole time? Is he breathing?

“It just seemed like you didn’t feel the same, so I kept it to myself and tried to move on. I’m sorry if this makes things awkward between us.”

“Me?” The word is hoarse when it comes out.

“Yes, you.”

“You have feelings for me?”

“Yes, Seungmin.”

“Oh my god.”

He says it under his breath as his body acts on its own. He grabs your face the same way you’re holding his and smashes your lips together.

It feels so right. Your lips are so soft against his, he could cry. They’re everything he dreamed they would be and more. No amount of daydreaming compares to how it feels to finally kiss you.

His bottom lip slots between both of yours while his hands slide all over your body. They start on your face just for one to thread in your hair while the other comes down to your waist.

Your mouths open and close like mirror images of one another, lips sliding over each other. Your own fingers slide into his hair while the other caresses his jawline as it moves.

He could die right now and he would be happy. Anyone could tell him anything and it would be okay.

Seungmin would give you the world if you asked him to. He’s absolutely on cloud nine, his head in space.

Small hums and groans come from both of your throats the longer your mouths slide over one another. He’s never felt more alive, more awake than he does right now.

He can barely feel his legs.

Seungmin didn’t even realize how much he was leaning into you until you lose your balance and fall back on the couch, his body quickly coming up to hover over yours.

Your lips don’t stay separated for long at all.

When they meet again, your tongue slides along his lips and Seungmin swears he hears angels singing. You taste like tea and happiness.

Your tongues tango for a while. His chest flush against yours. Can you feel his heart hammering against his rib cage? Can you taste the years of desperation on his lips?

All this time he thought you were just ships passing in the night.

“I’ve loved you for so long, Y/N,” he murmurs into your mouth. You suck on his bottom lip and a shiver races up Seungmin’s spine. “You’re the one that needed to look up, idiot.”

Pulling back, you stare up at him like he hung the moon.

“Do you mean it?” Your fingers trail over his face, tracing the soft lines of his features. When they run over his lips, he purses and kisses the pads.

“Every word.” He grabs your hand and holds it to his cheek. “These past few months have been torture, Y/N. I’ve been waiting for so long for you to see me like I see you.”

You gulp and stare deeply into those big, brown puppy dog eyes. “I can’t believe it. This is real, right?”

With a laugh, Seungmin pinches your side with his free hand. You yelp and giggle.

“I should ask you to pinch me.”

You grin wider.

His eyes fall to your lips. Seungmin is only able to control himself for another three seconds before he dips down and captures them with his own once more.

Your smile doesn’t fade even as you wrap your arms around his neck. It’s so contagious that his own grin blossoms against your sweet lips.

The long, heated kisses dissolve into delicate pecks since neither of you can control your happiness. Your lips are stretched too wide to properly interlock them.

The happiness shared between your hearts is overflowing. The dams that were holding back your feelings for years have finally burst.

No longer do you need to hang onto fleeting moments and cling to hoodies forgotten at your apartment.

You sigh. Your happy little sigh huffs out of your nose.

Seungmin’s heart sings with joy, it grows wings and flies from his chest and into orbit. You’re everything he ever needed.

And all he needed to do was look up.

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips.

“God, I love you too.”

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #kim seungmin x reader #seungmin x reader #seungmin x y/n #kim seungmin x y/n #seungmin fluff #seungmin fanfic #stray kids x y/n

455 notes · View notes

nyrandrea · 8 months

Note

You have very good writing and I think you really do comfort fics well! So I was wondering if you could write a fic with Astarion where the Tav he is trying to seduce has like major self esteem issues. Like they kind laugh at his attempts to compliment them. But at first it seems like a joke until he realizes that Tav isn't joking about it and he tries to help them see they are beautiful. (this is one of my fav prompts to give people ngl)

Thank you so much! This is a lovely prompt and I hope I did it some justice! :)

Word Count - 2k

Enjoy!

xxx

As the storm clouds gathered ominously on the horizon, you and your party found yourselves on a desolate, rain-soaked road in the middle of nowhere. The relentless downpour had turned the earth into a sea of mud, and the wind howled like a vengeful spirit.

Your clothes were soaked through, and faces were etched with exhaustion and desperation. With each step, your boots sank into the muck, making the journey even more arduous. Thunder rumbled in the distance, a menacing reminder that you had to find shelter soon.

“Ugh, there’s probably some saying about rainbows after the storm and whatnot,” Astarion said, holding a rucksack over his head in a failing attempt to save his hair. “But I’d much rather not be out in the middle of one.”

“Ah, it’s not so bad, just think of it as a long overdue shower,” Gale said. “And the saying is ‘Don’t fear the storm, for the rainbow is never far behind!’”

“Oh yes, that’s the one,” the vampire drawled. “I’ll rest so much better now that you have enlightened me.”

Amid the pelting rain, you spotted a faint glimmer of light in the distance. With newfound hope, you quickened your pace and beckoned the others to follow. As you trudged closer, the light revealed itself to be a cozy inn, nestled among ancient trees that shielded it from the worst of the storm.

“Thank the Gods,” Karlach breathed. “If I got any more drenched, my engine would have snuffed out.”

“Wouldn’t that solve your problem, then?” Lae’zel snidely chimed in, only to hiss when you elbowed her.

The inn's windows emitted a warm, inviting glow, and the scent of wood smoke and hearty meals wafted through the air. Your tired body yearned for a meal and a warm bed, mindflayer tadpoles be damned.

“Have we got enough gold to stay here? I mean, for everyone to have a room?” Shadowheart asked.

“We should do,” you said, pulling out the team’s shared coin pouch. “I sold that egg we uh... found.”

“You mean the one we stole after we killed its mother?” Wyll asked, clear disdain lacing his voice.

“It’s not technically stealing if the target is dead,” Astarion cheerfully chimed in. “Besides, we rescued the other one, didn’t we? One good turn deserves another.”

Wyll grimaced. “Your idea of virtue is a damn twisted one.”

“Aw, you love me really,” the vampire teased back.

“Here we are!” you announced as you reached the inn's doorstep, you were greeted by the innkeeper, whose eyes twinkled with the knowledge that you had nowhere else to go for the night. After taking payment, he ushers you inside, where a crackling fireplace cast a comforting light over the room, he takes your belongings up to your rooms with the help of Wyll and a begrudging Astarion.

Finding a long wooden table in the corner of the room, the group sat together, their spirits lifted by the fact that they were safe from the fury of the storm outside, at least for one night. The innkeeper, his apron stained with years of hospitality, served you a hearty meal of roasted meats, fresh bread, and stew.

You listened to the rain's rhythmic drumming on the inn's thatched roof, feeling a deep sense of gratitude for having found refuge in this little hidden haven. With a deep, contended sigh, you tucked into your meal, savouring every bite.

At least, you were trying to.

“You better eat up,” Astarion teased, lacing his fingers together as he rested his chin upon them to watch you. “Because I plan on doing just that very soon.”

“Crap,” you mumbled between mouthfuls. “Are you hungry? Why didn’t you say so?”

“Oh, am I hungry,” he smirked. “Just not for blood.”

You almost choked, but you masked it well with a nervous chuckle. He wasn’t... flirting with you, was he? You had always been bad at picking up signals, not that you received them often.

‘Nah,’ you thought. He couldn’t be, not when there were so many other better-looking people, at this table alone, that he could choose from.

“Well, I know you’re not craving my charming banter.”

“Oh no, something far better.”

Now you really were at a loss.

“Do you... need to borrow my hair comb again?”

“I mean sex, darling.”

This time you couldn’t hide the choke, but you were more afraid of dying from embarrassment than anything else.

“What?”

The deafening silence that had befallen the table was broken by a low whistle from Karlach.

“The direct approach, I can respect that, mate.”

“Direct? I’ve been trying to drop hints for weeks now but perhaps a little more serenading is needed,” he looked you up and down with a knowing smile; he had hooked you, now it was time to reel you in.

“Darling,” Astarion began softly, his voice a gentle caress, “when I look into your eyes, I see galaxies of beauty and depth that defy description. It’s as if the universe itself painted them with the colours of a thousand sunsets.”

A faint blush tinged your cheeks as you lowered your eyes, unsure of where to look. Astarion reached out and gently lifted your chin, so your eyes met once more.

“And your smile,” he continued, “it’s like a radiant sunbeam on even the cloudiest day. It has the power to brighten my world in an instant.”

“Ooh, that’s a good one,” Karlach said, fanning herself. “You’re even making me blush!”

“Careful, we wouldn’t want you burning any hotter now,” Gale smiled, though it was strained. He looked almost as uncomfortable as you felt.

“Your kindness,” Astarion went on, “it knows no bounds. You have a heart that’s more expansive than the ocean, and it’s a privilege to be the one you’ve chosen to share it with.”

“Bah!” Lae’zel practically spat. “These nonsensical attempts at beguiling are a waste of time, why waste your energy talking when you can claim and dominate each other instead?”

You were hard-pressed to agree with Lae’zel on this one. Well, except maybe for that last part.

“Alright, you can stop now,” you said.

“Not until you’re convinced,” Astarion replied, a sly smirk forming on his lips. “How about this? You are a masterpiece in a world of art,” The vampire flamboyantly declared, his gaze unwavering. “Your uniqueness, your quirks, your imperfections – they all make you the incredible person I fell in love with. You’re not just enough; you’re more than I ever dreamed of.”

You roll your eyes. “Gods, you know you don’t have to keep practising the fancy fake flattery on me, right? I know it’s all like a big joke to you but enough is enough, eh?”

Astarion finally pulls back and frowns at you, not in that puppy-pout way when he didn’t get what he wanted, but in a way that he looked genuinely offended.

“You think I’m joking?”

“I... uh,” you stutter, suddenly flustered.

“My compliments aren’t fake, darling. Decorative, perhaps, but you do know I mean every word, don’t you?”

“Pfft,” you try to wave him off nonchalantly, but your quivering voice betrays you. “No, you don’t. It’s... it’s all just a bit of fun, r-right?”

“Perhaps I should be a bit blunter then,” Astarion said, leaning forward ever so slightly, his expression serious and scarlet eyes piercing into you. “You’re... beautiful.”

You swear you could feel something just break inside you in that moment.

A tentative smile, like a fragile flower pushing through the cracks of self-doubt, graced your lips, but it wilted in the harsh light of scrutiny. A tight knot formed within your throat as everyone stared at you in anticipation. What were you supposed to say? Thank you? That you were grateful for the shower of compliments from Astarion, this... gorgeous man, because you sure as hell didn’t deserve them?

“I’m a little tired,” you suddenly say, your chair scraping the floor with a shrill screech as you quickly stand up. “Excuse me.”

Leaving their concerned calls behind you, you made your way up the stairs of the tavern and into the hallway leading to the rooms. The innkeeper had allocated them, but he’d neglected to say which one was which, so you merely picked the first door you could get your hands on.

It wasn’t until you slammed the door shut and leaned your back against it that you realised that you picked the wrong bloody one.

The room was large and luxurious, the centrepiece was an ornate, four-poster bed adorned with rich, crimson drapes that seemed to dance with the flickering candlelight and crisp, white linens, neatly turned down. An old, familiar skull-faced tome laid face up, its amethyst eyes staring ominously at the ceiling.

It seemed that someone got first dibs on the rooms, and it didn’t take a genius to work out who.

‘Shit,’ you curse to yourself, scrambling for the doorknob. ‘Maybe I can get out before he-’

As soon as you open the door, Astarion is already right there, his hand raised into a fist.

“Knock-knock?” he says, giving you a tentative smile.

“S-sorry, must have gotten a little mixed-up.”

“That’s quite alright, dear,” his tone is too soft for your liking, as if he feared offending you in any way.

“Right, well,” you strain a smile and edge around him to get to the hallway. “Goodnight.”

“Wait,” he catches you by the arm. “Come back in, won’t you?”

You squint at him suspiciously.

“To talk, darling. Nothing else, not if you don’t want to.”

Gods know that you wanted to, you were just... surprised that he did.

As you re-enter the room, you notice a small, antique writing desk nestled by a leaded glass window. A vase of freshly picked wildflowers graced the wooden surface, infusing the room with their sweet fragrance.

Astarion caught your stare. “Ah, unfortunately I have run out of perfume to mask my er... musk. So, I had to improvise.”

“It’s nice,” you remark, the tight knot in your throat making it hard to speak.

“Well, I should hope so. They are your favourite after all, are they not?”

A surge of guilt jabbed through your chest, you had occasionally stopped on the road to admire the flowers; their colours, their scent was intoxicating to you. Had he been observing you even back then?

You didn’t know what to say, words were always tempered by hesitation, their resonance dulled by the fear of judgment. Each sentence was punctuated by apologies, as if you believed your very existence owed the world an explanation. Confidence always remained just beyond your reach, an oasis in the desert of your own mind.

Astarion sat on the bed and patted the empty spot next to him; you silently took the invitation.

“I would like to... apologise for earlier. Making you uncomfortable was never my intent, I...” he paused, his eyes flickering over you. “I just wasn’t sure how much clearer I could make it to you.”

“That you... like me?”

“Like you?” Astarion took your hands and squeezed them. “I adore you. Everything about you, all that you do is... nothing short of breathtaking.”

Tears welled in your eyes and spilled over your cheeks like the gentlest rain, your trembling shoulders burdened by the weight of your emotions

“I’m sorry if you don’t hear this enough but... I wish to change that. You really are, truly, beautiful.”

The tears flowed freely then, your sobs echoing in the stillness of the night. Astarion gathered you in his arms, a silent pillar of support. His hand, cool and reassuring, gently cradled your trembling one, his thumb grazing back and forth over your knuckles.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, his words a gentle caress. “Let it out, darling.”

Astarion’s presence felt like a sanctuary, a safe haven in the storm of emotions. He didn’t offer empty platitudes or rushed advice. Instead, he listened, letting you pour your bottled emotions out, allowing it to find solace in his quiet understanding.

With each tear that fell, Astarion’s touch remained steady, unwavering.

As the night wore on, you found yourself nestled into his side as you lay together on top of the covers, your head tucked into his shoulder while he stared up at the ceiling. He turns his head briefly to kiss your forehead, and in that sacred space, amid the tears and whispered sorrows, you found solace, strength, and perhaps the willingness to accept that, in your own way, you are beautiful.

xxx

Links to my other Astarion works

Everything's Fine

Restless

Request - Astarion kills everyone in his path to get to you

Request - Astarion tries to rescue you from kidnappers

#astarion x reader #bg3 astarion #astarion #astarion x tav #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #astarion ancunin #my writing #fanfiction #request

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crushmeeren · 7 months

Text

Bokuto SFW/NSFW Headcannons

Everyone involved in this fic is aged up/18+; continue scrolling or block if you aren’t into this

Warnings; oral sex (blow jobs/pussy eating), car sex, riding, small amount of anal play (Bo teases your ass while he eats you out), mating press, kissing, praising

Note; I wasn’t originally planning on posting but I’ve had a rough night and I just love Bokuto 💕 This is my first time writing for Haikyuu so I hope I can do him justice. Please enjoy 🪽

Second Note; I think I’m gonna have to write one for Kirishima next, s-so many ideas about him 😮‍💨

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Koutarou who is the sweetest man alive, who you’re unconditionally in love with, but…is an airhead (i.e. he loses his phone all the time, forgets plans he’s already made, somehow drops his wallet down a hole at the top of a parking garage that’s 30 feet deep while planking—but miraculously finds it laying on a car below??) who you’ll always help find his shit either way—he needs AirTags

Koutarou who likes to wear lots of colors, whose favorite color is blue, who once got his face painted with a rainbow on it at the fair (he did look pretty, plus the vibrant colors represents how bright his personality is)

Koutarou who practically vibrates with excitement when he sees you watching his games from the stands, who smiles so wide his cheeks may split, who waves at you in the middle of a play (he ran into the net by accident, but he didn’t miss the next spike!!)

Koutarou who turns a sweet shade of pink when he sees you wear his jersey to his game, who picks you up in a sweaty, bear hug (squishing the air out of your lungs) after they’re finished, chatting excitedly in your ear as he carries you a few feet (he only sets you down when Hinata rescues you by reminding him they have to go change)

Koutarou who gets into certain self-deprecating moods sometimes, who lets you help him feel better, letting him talk it out, spending time with him, whispering words of support and encouragement as you poke the dimples on his cheeks (which gets him to smile and giggle almost every time)

Koutarou who likes listening to hip hop and surprisingly—hair metal, who loves singing in the car, who has an astonishingly good singing voice (you love watching him as he drives, he gets so into the music, wiggling in his seat—it’s like your own personal concert) and who loves Paramore—because you showed them to him

Koutarou who takes up half your bed when he sleeps, he’s so fucking tall—and thick🫣(but you love it and use him as your own personal blanket, but he does get really sweaty in the middle of the night so you have to roll away before you melt to death)

Koutarou who loves holding your hand, lacing his warm fingers through yours and tugging you in different directions, no matter where you are, who leans in so close to speak to you, you can see his eyelashes (it never fails to make warmth thickly pool in your belly, traveling up and making your cheeks burn—he always looks at you with stars in his eyes)

Koutarou who is literally always the life of the party—everyone loves the fucking ace, he radiates positive and happy energy—people are drawn to him like moths to a flame, they always want to talk to him and you’re proud of it (plus you don’t mind—besides he always comes home with you at the end of the night)

Koutarou who introduces you to Kuroo, who he has remained friends with after high school, Kuroo, the sly bastard who you’ve grown quite fond of & have become close friends with (instantly clicking over your combined efforts to tease Bo)

Koutarou who loves, loves taking hot showers with you, he likes to hug you under the warm spray, letting it relax both of you and talk about his day (sometimes you end up on your knees, but who can blame you?)

Koutarou who looks so unbelievably hot when his hair is down, no gel in sight as the soft strands frame his sweet face (you can’t help but stare at him until he asks if there’s something on his face, you tell him just how goddamn good he looks—which in turn makes him flush bright pink, dragging you into his lap to make out with him)

Koutarou who really loves when you call him by his given name —don’t get him wrong, but…he can’t help but feel a flash of heat shoot between his legs when he hears your sweet voice calling him Bo (you absolutely know what it does to him)

Koutarou who loves you so fucking much he feels his heart may burst at the seams, who is your best friend, who you can be completely yourself with, who supports you in everything you do, who you know, in your bones, is your one and only, who has been secretly planning on proposing to you for awhile now (FYI— you say yes, Bo definitely cries)

💕NSFW Below This-You Have Been Warned💕

Koutarou who is fucking buff, who is wayy taller than you, who is packed with muscle and his cock is, to say the least…thick, but just long enough to keep from hurting (but lets be real, the thickness is what counts)

Koutarou who gets rock hard so damn fast whenever you kiss his neck, gasping, whining, squirming underneath you when you sink your teeth into the muscle covering his pulse point, tilting his head and melting when you leave a couple hickies (he really tries to cover it up the next day, but Miya Atsumu teases him at practice anyways—he takes it in stride, only blushing a little bit)

Koutarou who only really curses during sex, unable to stop the nasty words from leaving his mouth (you think it’s the biggest turn on when he can’t help but whimper a soft f-fuck when he gets his dick inside you)

Koutarou who loves when you suck his cock, who likes when you’re laying on your back and he straddles your chest, controlling the pace as he thrusts into your mouth, who loves when you grip his ass and help him fuck your throat, who braces a hand against the wall, one hand in your hair as he watches his dick shine with your saliva as it repeatedly disappears between your warm, soft lips, who sees stars when he fucks along your tongue like a track made to make him blow

Koutarou who likes to suffocate between your thighs, always asking you to sit on his face, who grips your hips and forces you to rub your clit over his tongue, who covers his finger in your slick, teasing your asshole until you cum on his tongue, fisting his hair between your fingers (you choke on your moans, pleasure sticky and gooey gushing through your limbs)

Koutarou who was nervous at first when you suggested having sex in his car, but now he’s addicted, who can’t do anything but hold your waist, whimpering mhmm—fuck, that’s it pretty thing, as you hold onto his shoulders, using your feet & thighs to bounce on his cock in the drivers seat that’s been pushed all the way back

Koutarou whose toes curl, cock twitching as his eyes either stayed glued to where your pussy sucks him in or the way your tits bounce in his face (you love it just the same, tilting your head down to watch while you fuck yourself on his dick)

Koutarou who likes to let out high pitched whines & moans in your ear when he fucks you in missionary, who tells you your fucking pussy’s s’good, so tight, gonna make me cum so hard, while he has you folded into a mating press, shivering while he tries to hold back from cumming too quick (it feels like he’s in your throat, he makes you squirt in this position, thumb rubbing your clit roughly)

Koutarou who sits back on his calves, gripping your tits, fucking into you and curling his hips upwards, who makes you inhale sharply, gasping Bo! as you cum, fingers gripping his forearms, who says love when you cum on my cock baby girl, taking my dick so fucking well (you groan through clenched teeth as warm tingles take over your body)

Koutarou who almost cums instantly when you tell him he’s so good at fucking you, making you cum so many times during one round of sex (bro definitely has a bit of a praise kink)

Koutarou who whispers how much he loves you, face flushed when he starts to cum, whose heart thumps wildly in his chest as he groans about how good it feels to fill you up, pussy hugging him so tight (you tell him you love him just the same when he buries his sweaty face in your neck)

Koutarou who can never resist resting all his weight on you afterwards, snaking his arms around you and snuggling you tight as you both soak in the post orgasm glow, who helps you clean up and gets you water before you both take a nap or go to bed for the night

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jdeclerc · 6 months

Text

happy birthday, shadowsinger

pairing: azriel x reader

summary: it's the night before azriel's birthday and he can't help but want you all to himself, politeness and decorum be damned

author's note: i'm a self-proclaimed cassian girlie but az does something to me, i wanted my first fic featuring him to be a happy one...enjoy :)

warnings: smut

word count: 5,728

“Even you can’t slip out unnoticed during your own party, Azriel.”

Azriel can hear the smile in your voice from where he stands facing the kitchen window overlooking the ocean. He wordlessly sends his shadows away, commanding them to ensure the two of you are left alone.

“Who’s to say my plan was to go unnoticed?”

He turns, drinking in your form from where you stand in the kitchen’s doorway.

He had almost been brought to his knees when you exited your shared dressing room hours earlier. Azriel had gone with you too many times not to recognize the pieces you wear as being custom-made by your favourite designer in the rainbow.

The top is made of the most beautiful lace Azriel has every seen, a band of black underneath is the only solid piece. The neckline raises high enough to circle your throat, he had found himself picturing his hand replacing that particular part more times that he cares to admit.

The high-waisted black pants flow down your form like water over rock, two slits running up both sides until they stop near the tops of your thighs. Throughout the night his hands had used every opportunity to slip themselves beneath the fabric, your skin against his own being a feeling he will chase for eternity.

But it is the vision of you now that has him thinking himself the luckiest male in all of Prythian.

You had removed your shoes at some point throughout the night, the intricate style of your hair had been replaced by a beautifully messy knot at the top of your head, and your jewellery had been abandoned in various places, the only piece remaining being the band he had placed on your finger two centuries ago.

You embody everything he deems to mean home, to mean comfort and safety.

“What if my plan was this? To have you all to myself?”

The kitchen is empty save for the two of you, the only noise being the music filtering in from the sitting room.

“You have me Azriel…any way you wish, any time you desire, I am yours.”

He can’t help his smile as he extends his right hand out toward you, a silent invitation for you to approach.

“Dance with me?”

Your eyes don’t stray from his as you close the distance, your left hand meeting his right. He takes your right hand and places both around his neck. His arms come to circle your waist, drawing you in as close as he is able. His wings follow suit, framing the two of you where you stand.

Azriel begins slow movements as he rests his head atop where yours is tucked under his jaw, brushing his lips across your forehead. A song he recognizes as one from your mating ceremony begins playing in the other room. After a moment he begins singing for only you to hear.

Azriel has let only those in his immediate family hear him sing, them being the only fae in existence aware that the ‘singer’ portion of his title rings true. He has only sung for them a handful of times, usually only doing so when faerie wine has gotten the best of him.

It was the expression on your face after the first time you heard him sing that erased any fear he held about your reaction. From that moment he never once denied your requests to hear him sing. You know him too well to ask in front of the other members of the Inner Circle, asking him only in the sacred space of your shared home. He will never get used to the waves of love and adoration you send down the bond when he sings for you.

As the song ends, Azriel begins quietly humming along with the one that follows, pulling both of you further into a moment meant only for the two of you. Neither of you dare to break the cocoon of quiet that surrounds you, moments such as these happening not nearly often enough.

Azriel isn’t sure how much time passes before you break the silence.

“I’m sorry if the party is too much, Cas and Rhys insisted on a night of revelry and debauchery…a gathering, at our house, with just our family, was the best I could get them down to.”

Your voice comes out hushed, like speaking at a regular volume would break the spell of the moment.

“I’m not even sure I want to know what it took to change their minds.” Amusement laces Azriel’s response. “And for it to be on the night before my birthday rather than the day of? You must be a sorceress.”

“It wasn’t quite that dramatic…I simply began telling them how I plan for the two of us to not leave our bed on your birthday, and of all the things we would be getting up to. That seemed to lessen their resolve.”

You can feel Azriel’s hands tighten where they rest on your waist, his head lowering until you feel the brush if his lips against your ear.

“I imagine it would…care to let me in on the details of what you told them?”

“I only got to tell them that I would be too sore for training the following day and that my voice would be strained from screaming your name before they feigned retching and begged me to stop.”

Azriel’s laugh is impossibly deep, the tone causing an involuntary wave of desire to shoot from your end of the bond. The air almost instantly changes, the scents of your respective arousals twisting and twining in the air around you as your gazes lock.

Azriel’s hands move to the backs of your thighs, lifting you into his arms and wrapping your legs around his waist. He moves forward until he can set you down on the closest counter, positioning himself between you and the doorway leading out of the kitchen. His look is nothing short of predatory as he stares down at you.

His right hand comes to rest on your jaw, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. His left moves from your waist and begins toying with the base of your top, the small, black buttons being the only thing that stands between him and your bare skin beneath his hands.

Your hands tighten their grip on either side of his neck as you bring your lips against the base of his ear.

“Damage even one button and I will cut you down…the Night Court will be in need of a new spymaster.”

Azriel leans far enough back to meet your eye and gives you a scandalized look in return. Despite his look his hands retreat to either side of your waist, his thumbs brushing beneath the hem of your top.

“So very violent…I would never dare to do such a thing, my love. Do you think so little of me?”

You respond with a raised eyebrow, both of you knowing his accounts list numerous trips throughout Velaris to replace the articles of clothing he had been too impatient to remove without ripping them.

“Shall I start counting how many pairs of undergarments I’ve lost to your impatience?” You stare up at him through your lashes, choosing your next words knowing exactly what they would do to your mate.

“Or is there something else you’d prefer my mouth to be doing?”

“Fuck me.” He says it so low that you know he’s saying it more to himself then you. His hunger is evident in the way he searches your eyes.

Azriel’s grip tightens around your waist. He moves forward spreading your thighs further to accommodate his form towering over your own.

Wordlessly you begin undoing the buttons of his shirt, reaching halfway before running your hands over his chest. You trace his tattoos, taking in and appreciating the beauty of your mate. You can feel him tense under your touch as your hands move under the collar of his shirt, stopping at the base of his neck to toy with the hair that had grown longer than normal after his last mission.

You look up at him through your lashes and it’s as though his world stops.

Nothing exists outside of this moment for Azriel as his lips meet yours. His right hand moves to the base of your neck, tightening his grip to tilt your head back, allowing him the angle he needs to devour you.

The kiss is the exact opposite of his outward, quiet demeanor. It’s demanding, he is a male with a singular focus, a hunger that only you can satiate. His hands move to your thighs, holding them with a bruising grip as he pulls them higher and tighter around his waist. Every part of him meeting every part of you.

It’s when you reach and beginning running your hand along the length of him over his pants that he pulls back, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth as he does. He rests his forehead against yours, both of your breaths laboured.

“Here or our bedroom?”

“Wha –”

“I plan to be inside you before the clock strikes midnight Y/N.” Azriel’s tone is severe, determination lacing every word. “It can be here, with our family in the next room, or I can spread you out beneath me as you grip the satin of our sheets…tell me where and tell me quickly.”

A mischievous grin spreads across your lips before you respond, and it takes everything in Azriel not to capture your lips with his once more. Your words come out as a whisper.

“Your birthday, your choice.”

Azriel emits a low groan at your words. With a practised ease he lifts you from the counter, keeping your body tucked close to his. He turns and carries you through the doorway of the kitchen, toward the stairs leading to the second floor of your shared home.

Only Amren notices the two of you as you pass by the sitting room. She gives Azriel a knowing smile and it’s the slight bow of her head that tells him she won’t alert the rest of the Inner Circle to your joined absence.

As he reaches the second floor, he carries you through the double doors that sit directly opposite the stairs. He removes a single hand from you only long enough to close both doors, sealing the two of you away from the world once more.

It takes you no more than a moment to know where your mate has taken you.

“The library? Interesting choice.” Amusement is mixed into your loving tone.

“My birthday, my choice, remember?” He moves forward, your back meeting the closest bookshelf. “I bolted these shelves to the floor for a reason, my love.”

Your eyes widen, your mate having left that particular piece of information out when explaining to you how he planned to make changes to the library when the two of you had moved in.

“Azriel…you did not!”

“Oh, but I did, my dear. Do you not remember what happened the first day we moved into this house?”

You both can’t help laughing at the memory. What started as a simple kiss ended with the two of you surrounded by a broken shelf and books scattered every which way. It had been your favourite room in the house ever since.

The library holds such peace and tranquility for both of you. Your respective offices both have doors leading into the room. Azriel can’t count how many nights you both have fallen asleep in front of the fireplace, still holding your books. He also can’t count the number of heated moments that passed between you within the walls of this room, your books, in particular, being the starting point to more than a few of those moments.

Azriel lowers you to the floor and takes your hips in his hands, turning you around. He moves both your hands to rest on the shelf just above your head.

“Keep them there.” His tone leaves no room for discussion or argument.

His hands move to either side your neck, his thumbs brushing the base of your jaw before moving to the first of the buttons that rest there. He undoes each one with painful precision, your arousal growing with each that comes loose.

It seems as though an eternity has passed before the last button comes free. He lowers your hands and pushes the top past your shoulders and down your arms. He sets the top on the empty portion of shelf behind him. As he turns back to face you, he moves your hands to rest on the shelf once more.

He presses a kiss to your left shoulder, leaving a path of searing skin in his wake as he settles his lips at the base of your ear. His fingertips brush across your skin from your hips until both hands come to rest beneath your breasts.

The tightening of your grip where it rests and the shiver that runs through you as he brushes his scarred thumbs across your nipples doesn’t go unnoticed by the spymaster. The cool air of the empty room has formed them into sensitive peaks, and he relishes in the stuttering breaths you let out as he continues the movements of his thumbs.

Azriel’s right hand comes to rest between your breasts as his left moves down your stomach, stopping just short of where he knows you want his hands most.

“Az…”

Your words come out weak, pleading.

His hand undoes the buttons of your pants with expert precision. You can’t help the whimper that escapes as both of his hands leave your body to slide the garment down your legs. He repeats his earlier actions, your pants now resting with your top.

Azriel’s hands find their place once more as he presses your bare form into his fully clothed one, the friction causing another shiver to rake over your body.

His left hand continues its previous path downward until his fingers brush against the most sensitive part of you. It’s his turn to let out an involuntary groan at what his hand is met with.

“So wet for me already Y/N. I’ve barely touched you…are you that desperate for me?”

Rather than give him a response, your body does its best to grind against his hand, searching for some form of friction. His right hand tightens where it rests on your sternum, halting your movements.

“You’ll have to do better than that Y/N. Use your words…tell me exactly what you need.”

His lips are pressed to your ear, his voice so deep it is the accelerant to the fire raging within you.

It takes a moment for you to respond, your words coming out broken.

“I need you…I need you inside me, Az. Now.”

Your words pull him from the haze of his arousal. Very rarely do the two of you move forward without some form of preparation to make the experience more enjoyable for you. Azriel isn’t ignorant to his size, he is acutely aware of the discomfort he has unintentionally caused you in the past. Very rarely does your need outweigh the pain you feel as you adjust to him.

“Be sure Y/N. Please.” His words are desperate, the need to have your intention clear necessary for him to move forward.

You turn in his grip, bringing your hands to rest on his chest as you meet his eye. Your left hand raises to rest against his jaw, your next words giving him the reassurance you know he needs.

“I’m sure Az…I want every inch you have to give me.”

Your hands become desperate, reaching to undo the buttons beneath each of his wings. Azriel can’t help but let out a low laugh as you struggle to pull his shirt from his body. He grasps your wrists and places them on his waist before reaching overhead and pulling the garment off himself. He tosses it to the side, all the care he showed your clothes has been thrown into the Sidra.

He looks down and watches as you pull his zipper down, his breath hitching as you sink to your knees before him, the sight never failing to bring out his base desires. He steps out of his pants when they reach his ankles. His hands move to cover yours where they grip at his thighs when they start to move.

“You’re not the only one that needs me inside you, Y/N.” His voice is gravel, almost pained as he pulls you to stand once more. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth in the beginning of a pout.

“It’s your birthday Az, this is about you.”

His hands encase either side of your neck with a firm grip, ensuring you hear every word he has to say.

“If it’s about me then it’s about you.” His voice goes impossibly deep with his next words. “You should know by now that nothing gets me off quite like the sounds you make as you cum around my cock.”

He says nothing more before he captures your lips with his own and lifts you into his arms. He parts from you just long enough to brush his cock through your folds, lining himself up. You both let out a low groan as he pushes into you, your head falling back against the bookshelf and his coming to rest against your chest.

Azriel doesn’t dare move, savouring the moment. Your hands brush back the hair that has fallen over his forehead, tilting his face up to meet yours. You both refuse to break the eye contact as he draws his hips back and moves them forward once more, working himself deeper.

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, and he can see your eyes begin to water as he bottoms out inside you. His heart breaks at the sight, but you don’t give him a single second to fall into self-deprecation as you pull his lips to meet yours.

The kiss is different than the last, it’s fueled by care and adoration. A love so deep neither of you can quite comprehend it most days.

Azriel tucks his head against your neck as you tighten your arms around his shoulders, his lips paying special attention to the spot just beneath your ear that has you clutching him, your nails surely leaving marks.

His first movements are slow, measured. He plays you like a song that he has practiced his entire life, knowing just what you need. It’s when you bring your forehead to rest against his that he knows you need more, knows you want him to give you everything he can.

His pace becomes burning, pulling sounds from you that would have him offering up whatever he needed in order to hear them just one more time.

“That’s it Y/N/N.” He pulls out to the tip before beginning to push back in, painfully slow. His pace quickening again as he snaps his hips into yours. “I want to hear you take every inch like the good girl that you are.”

It’s his words that send you barreling into an orgasm that has you seeing stars. His right hand moves to circle your clit, causing you to cry out as he carries you through your release. Your left hand grips his forearm, attempting and failing to halt his movements.

“Az, please…”

Your words are more desperate than he knows you wish them to be. Azriel gradually slows his movements, and he can feel your body coming back from the over-stimulation. He doesn’t give you time to fully recover as he moves to lay you down on the couch that is centred in front of the dormant fireplace.

Azriel takes a moment to admire the sinful beauty of you beneath him, it’s a sight that he commits to memory each time he is graced by it.

Your hands grip his biceps as he lowers himself to hover above you, his arms resting on either side of your head. His lips meet yours in a kiss that is nothing short of devastating. He pushes every bit of need he has for you down the bond, ensuring you know he is worshipping before his chosen altar.

He hooks his left arm under your knee, raising your leg and pushing himself even deeper inside you. He relishes in the expression that passes over your features at the new angle. Your body is pliant under his, ready to take whatever he gives you.

Azriel doesn’t have many words to say but he wishes he could give every last one to you in this moment. Wishes he could find the words to properly describe the effect you have on him, his feelings so consuming it terrifies him.

A squeeze on his forearm pulls him from his thoughts, he glances up to meet your questioning expression.

“Care to tell me what has that beautiful mind of yours thinking so hard?” Your words are gentle, barely coming out above a whisper.

Azriel brushes his thumb along your jaw.

“Nothing you don’t already know.” He smiles to himself. “Just that I am hopelessly, endlessly, devastatingly in love with you.”

“Keep talking like that, Shadowsinger and I won’t even need you to move. Your voice is all I need.”

“Then maybe I shouldn’t be doing this.” He pulls out to the tip and pushes back in, hitting every last spot that has you clenching around him and arching your chest into his. “Or this.” He leans down, closing his mouth on your pulse point, leaving his mark on you. “And I really shouldn’t be doing this either.” His mouth resumes its position, and his fingers start moving over your clit in the way only he knows how.

“But we both know it doesn’t matter what I do when I’m the only that can have you like this, the only one that can give you what we both know you’d beg for.” His fingers stop their movements, leaving you to clench around him, wordlessly begging for him to do something, anything. The sound that comes from you at the loss is nothing short of primal, so involuntary Azriel can’t stop the pride that washes over him.

He starts moving again, varying his pace until he finds the one that has your head falling back onto the couch and the nails of your left hand digging into his back, just below where his wing meets his skin. Azriel can’t help the moan that leaves him, the scrape of your nails only heightening the euphoria beginning to consume him.

Your right hand blindly grabs for the hand he has anchored next to your head. He interlaces his fingers with your own, your knuckles turning white with the force of your grip, desperate to maintain your hold on him.

“Fuck, Az…don’t stop.” He can barely hear the words as you choke them out, each sounding more strained than the last. “Plea...please.”

You’re close; he can hear it in your breathing and feels it in the way your body tenses, as though you’re a rope about to snap.

He doesn’t let up in his pace, even though he can feel himself barreling toward his own release. Azriel is determined to hold out long enough for you to fall over the edge first.

“Such good manners.” Azriel grips the back of you neck with his right hand, forcing your eyes to open and meet his. The expression across his face has you letting out a whimper, the fire in his eyes unmistakeable. “But what did I say about telling me exactly what you want Y/N? Use your words.”

He can see you struggle to form the words, so lost in your pleasure it takes more than one try for them to cross your lips.

“Please, Az, I want to…need to cum on your cock.”

Your words break the last of his resolve. His hand moves from your neck to resume its movements on your clit, moving against it slowly, in such stark contrast to the burning pace set by his hips.

The dual sensations have you crying out and Azriel responds in turn, with a needy groan falling from his own lips.

He leans down and places his lips against your ear, his voice sinful as he whispers the exact words you need.

“Then do that for me, love…cum for me.” His fingers quickening their pace only slightly.

That all it takes for your vision to flash white, your orgasm ripping through you with such delicious ferocity. You can’t help the trembling of your thighs as Azriel’s pace doesn’t slow, drawing sounds from you that only he’s ever been able to do.

His release quickly follows your own as he bites down on your neck, pushing his hips harshly into yours as he cums. You can feel him tremble under your touch as you cling to him, the reaction a direct contrast to the deep moans coming from him.

Azriel’s thrusts slow, anchoring you both as you come down from your respective highs. The sound of your combined releases nearly sending you into a third orgasm.

Azriel isn’t sure how long it takes for your respective breaths to even out. All he knows as he stares down at the look of pure bliss on your face is that he will never get used to this, will never stop wanting to be the one that gets to see you like this.

He waits a few more moments before slowly pulling out of you, a small gasp leaving your lips at the loss. Azriel rests his head on your chest, giving himself a moment to truly come down from his high.

Your hand brushes the sweat-soaked hair from his forehead, a truly contented smile forming as he lifts his head and closes his eyes with the movement of your hand.

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence for a few moments before the clock that sits on the fireplace mantel gives out an almost silent chime.

“It’s midnight…Happy Birthday Azriel.” You whisper the words, sending every bit of love you can down the bond. “Hopefully you’re not disappointed with how your day is beginning.”

He leans down to kiss you rather than respond, exploring your mouth with slow precision. When he breaks it his forehead rests against your own.

“When I say this is better than anything I could dream, please believe every word. I thank the cauldron every day for gifting me with you as a mate.” You can tell his next words are said to himself as his eyes search your face. “I will never deserve you.”

“You wish for me to believe your words…believe mine in return.” Your hands grasp either side of his face. “You deserve everything you have, my love. The life you have built, your family, me, all of it.”

He lets out a low hum of acknowledgment, leaning down to kiss you. It’s slow, patient – allowing the both of you to bask in the feeling of each other.

You break from the kiss suddenly, unable to stifle the yawn you let out.

“You’re tired Y/N.”

“No, I’m here, I’m –” Another yawn interrupts your words.

Azriel lets out a low chuckle, shifting so he rests on his side facing you. His wings relax over the edge of the couch, and he allows them to brush the ground rather than devote the concentration to keeping them raised. He reaches over you and pulls the blanket folded over the back of the couch to cover your entwined bodies.

He wraps his arms around your waist and rests your head against his chest.

“Sleep Y/N, you’ll need rest if you’d like us to live out the day you scarred Rhys and Cas with as you described it.”

You smile and let out an amused hum as your eyes begin to close.

“It would be a perfect day, Cas and Rhys be damned.” The words come out in a whisper, and it doesn’t take long for Azriel to hear your breathing leveling out.

He waits long enough to ensure you’re truly asleep before gently untangling himself from you. He looks down as he stands and finds his shadows have returned. They skirt around the bottom of the couch, holding true to their need to keep you safe at every turn.

He silently thanks them, only now realizing just how long your shared family had gone without interrupting the two of you.

Azriel crosses the short space to the bookshelves, retrieving his pants and pulling them on, not bothering to button them as he knows they’ll be on his bedroom floor in a matter of minutes.

He faces the couch once more and pulls the blanket tighter around your form before lifting you into his arms. Even in sleep, you burrow further into his hold, tucking your head tight to his chest.

Azriel can’t help the smile plastered to his lips as he exits the library, vowing to himself that the two of you would be back in this room later in the day, continuing this evening’s activities.

---------

“Where did they go Rhysie?”

Rhysand can hear the pout in Cassian’s voice as he asks the question.

“They didn’t leave the house so I’m sure they haven’t gone far Cas. Don’t worry, we’ll find them.”

He tightens his grip on Cassian’s arm as his massive form sways during their ascent up the stairs.

“We better, they’re too important to me to lose.” His eyes are taking on a glossy glint as he continues. “What if something terrible’s happened?! I’ll kill anyone who dares lay a hand on them!”

It’s in that moment that Rhysand thanks the Mother he insisted they all come unarmed tonight. A drunk Cassian is one matter…an armed drunk Cassian could end in catastrophe.

Rhysand can hear a slight shift from down the hall as they finally reach the top of the stairs. He looks ahead and spots two of the few fae who permanently reside within his heart.

Cassian moves before Rhysand can pull him back. His massive form taking the most ungraceful of steps to reach his friends.

“Thank the gods you’re okay!” Azriel quickly hushes the General, his tone having crossed from its previous whisper to the beginning of his normally boisterous, energetic tone. “I was so afraid something terrible had happened when neither of you came back!”

Azriel eyes dart to Rhysand’s, his eyebrows raising in question. Rhysand shrugs in response, slipping into Azriel’s mind after he lowers his shields.

“He refused to leave until he laid eyes on the two of you, his concern so great he turned down every reassurance I tried to give him.”

“Just how much did he drink?” Azriel’s amusement is evident, no anger imposes on his tone.

“Please don’t make me answer that, he winnowed to the wine cellar before I could stop him. Feyre’s in similar shape but Amren was able to get her home, I clearly haven’t had such luck.”

Azriel nods at his High Lord in understanding and turns his attention to Cas once more.

The stretch of silence has given the General an opportunity to move even closer to the two, his eyebrows furrowed in worry as he looks down at Y/N.

“She’s not hurt Cas, she simply sleeps. You wouldn’t want to wake her, would you?”

Cassian shakes his head.

“Can you do me a favour, brother?” Cassian nods in response.

Rhysand can see from where he stands that the expression Cassian gives Azriel is nothing short of one filled with utter love.

“Y/N had a headache earlier today and she misplaced the tonic Majda gave her in the House of Wind after our meeting. Can I trust you to find it for her? It would make her so happy to have it back.”

“For Y/N? Consider it done, brother.” Cassian’s tone is as serious as it is when he walks into battle. The two of you had been close since the moment you met, the General declaring himself your protector.

He stares at Azriel for a moment longer before taking his face in his hands and kissing both of his cheeks. And it’s as he leans down to give Y/N the same treatment that Rhysand finally takes in the scene before him.

He observes Azriel’s half-clothed state and his quick adjustment to the blanket covering you, pulling your body in closer to his own.

Rhys realizes just what he and Cassian have interrupted and curses his less than sober state for not realizing earlier the most obvious reason two mates would slip away at one of their respective birthday celebrations.

“Cas, let’s go find that tonic. We wouldn’t want Y/N to wait any longer than she has to.” Rhysand crosses the short distance and moves to turn Cassina away from the mated pair.

Azriel shoots him a grateful look, his thanks clearly evident.

Cassian allows Rhys to lead him away but abruptly turns back just as they move to descend the stairs.

“Azriel?”

“Yeah, Cas?”

“Tell Y/N Happy Birthday from me when she wakes up, I want to be the first one to say it.” His smile is beaming at the thought.

“The second she wakes, she will know.” Azriel’s words are filled with amusement, letting out a low laugh at the General’s words.

Cassian gives him a triumphant smile, turning back toward the stairs without another word.

Rhysand gives Azriel one last apologetic look before leading the General down the stairs and past the wards that guard the home.

“Y/N must’ve gotten hot before she fell asleep.”

Cassian’s words have Rhysand pausing.

“What makes you say that, Cas?”

The General’s words fall to a whisper, as though somebody may be listening.

“She didn’t have any clothes on under that blanket. She was in front of a fire and got too warm, Azriel didn’t want us to see so he put the blanket on her, I’m certain of it.”

He speaks like he’s privy to confidential information and has finally chosen to let Rhysand in on it.

Rhysand grips his brother’s arm, giving him an endearing smile as he begins to winnow them to the House of Wind. Cassian’s face conveying unending pride at Rhys' reply.

“You must be right Cas…there’s absolutely no other possible explanation.”

#azriel x reader #azriel #cassian #rhysand #acotar #acotar x reader #night court

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