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wlwmarvelenthusiast · 3 years

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Turn Your Luck

Summary: After a day filled with bad luck and a series of unfortunate events, Natasha manages to turn your day around

Pairing: Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Warnings: None

Words: 6,167

When you woke up in the morning and smacked your big toe off your bed frame, you didn't even think twice of it. It sent a jolt all throughout your foot, but after a few swear words, you were already feeling a little better. You didn't bother making the bed you'd just stood up out of. All your life you'd reasoned that it wouldn't be 24 hours before you just messed it up again. You grabbed a towel and moved into the bathroom. The hot shower made you forget all about the sore toe you'd been sporting only a moment earlier.

You were feeling great when you stepped out of the shower. The warm water had always instilled comfort into your very bones even this early in the morning. You wiped some of the condensation off the mirror to brush your teeth. The tube of toothpaste was completely empty, and the drawer where you usually kept the new ones was also barren. You rolled your eyes at your own irresponsibility, before brushing your teeth without any toothpaste and then using some mouthwash to try and compensate for it. You stepped out of the bathroom.

You got dressed in your favourite white shirt and black pants before making your way into the kitchen. You tossed your phone onto the counter as you passed it on the way to the small kitchen table. You were after the fruit bowl, which was already needing a refill. There were still a few apples left, though, and you were expecting to have one for breakfast. You were mistaken. You pulled the empire apple out of the blue bowl to find the bottom had grown immensely soft and was clearly not in any condition to be eaten. You were disappointed but tossed it into the compost bin and moved on.

Humming a soft tune as you moved, you popped a pod into the single-serve coffee maker and pressed start. You were moving toward the fridge in no time when a strange noise caught your attention. You whirled to face the coffee maker. Instead of the steady stream of coffee you usually got, it was spraying the hot liquid like it was a shaken pop can. You jumped behind the small island, using it as a shield. Thankfully, you'd managed to keep your white shirt safe from the wrath of the coffee. When it stopped, you finally dared step back into the kitchen. The dark liquid was dripping down every nearby surface. You huffed, running some paper towel across the biggest surfaces quickly.

You gave up on the coffee. It seemed you weren't going to get it anyway. You glared at the machine as if it had intentionally smitten you. Instead, you reached into the fridge instead and poured a glass of orange juice for yourself. You sipped it before setting it back onto the countertop. When your phone buzzed and indicated an incoming message, you reached for it. Your elbow hit your glass and it fell onto its side. The orange liquid spilled off the counter and into your white shirt. You gave the mess the middle finger, tossing a dishtowel on it to soak it up, with the intention of actually cleaning it after work. You already had to clean the coffee up anyway.

Any attempt at breakfast was abandoned. After the three kitchen incidents combined, you were convinced you'd be better off heading to some drive-thru on the way to work. Now in a new blue shirt, you grabbed your bag and headed out your front door. You unlocked your car, slid into the driver's seat, and hit the ignition. The car sputtered for a few seconds, before refusing to start. You tried again, and then again, before groaning, taking out your frustration on the steering wheel in front of you. You stood up and stepped back out of the vehicle, slamming the door behind you with much more force than necessary.

Then, it was off to the bus stop. You headed down the sidewalk to the nearest one, pulling out your phone as you walked so you could check your app to find out when the next bus was coming. When you saw big red letters informing you that the bus was halted until further notice, though, you had to refrain from throwing your phone hard into the concrete. You supposed you should have had a little sympathy for those in the accident that had halted your bus, but you couldn't find it in yourself right then. Your morning was not going well.

It was a good thing you hadn't smashed your phone against the sidewalk. It was the only thing you could use to get you to work now. You switched apps and ordered an Uber to come to pick you up. When the driver arrived, you climbed into the back seat and gave him the address of your place of work. He nodded and pressed his foot down on the gas. Your eyes had been glued on your phone, but your gaze flickered at the driver's movement. He was adjusting the mirror and you were absolutely sure he'd angled it to face you a little better. You could have puked when you realized the creep was checking you out. You didn't say anything, at this point just wanting to get to work and be done with it.

You practically sprinted into the building when you arrived. Security didn't seem to mind your rush, having seen your face every day for over three years anyway. You hopped up the stairs two at a time, faster than the elevator would have been able to carry you anyway. When you reached the meeting room door you took a few seconds to catch your breath, not wanting to seem too flustered in your professional environment. When you finally pushed the door open, everyone was rising to their feet. Their eyes all darted up to glance at you. You smiled sheepishly.

"You're late."

"I know, I'm sorry." That was honest. You might have been frustrated, but you hadn't wanted to inconvenience any of your coworkers as well. "I've really had a rough morning."

Your boss nodded. "We've all had those days. I'll send you an email and give you a summary."

You thanked him and left the meeting room with everyone else. You trudged into your office, throwing your bag to the floor, and refraining from slamming the door behind you. You collapsed into your office chair and closed your eyes for a brief moment. But you didn't have time for that. The paperwork on your desk needed your attention. You gave it. The hours you spent on all the files, emails, and documents were the smoothest thing that had happened all day, even if it was mind-numbingly boring and felt absolutely endless. It might have been smooth sailing, but it didn't brighten your spirits at all.

When your phone rang, you reached out blindly until you felt your hand come in contact with it. You shuffled it until it was upright in your hand. You were so completely absorbed in the document that was displayed on your computer screen that you didn't even bother to look at your phone as you fumbled to slide the answer bar. Only when the incessant ringing had finally ceased did you know you'd successfully answered the call. You hesitated before you slowly raised the phone to your ear, eyes still scanning the lines in front of you.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Hun."

Immediately you regretted not checking the caller ID before answering the phone. You could have kicked yourself. In fact, the move was so ridiculously and incredibly stupid that you could have beaten yourself to a pulp. The voice on the other end of the line was familiar, completely unwelcome, and not a surprise after having the day that you were having. You turned away from the screen, resting your elbow on the desk and massaging the migraine that was beginning to form in your forehead. You sighed heavily, sure she heard it.

"Hi," you stated. "What?"

"Hun-"

"Please stop calling me that, I already asked you."

You had asked her that. Multiple times. You'd broken up months ago after she'd broken your heart. Catching her in bed with someone else had left you shattered and unsure if you could trust anyone. You'd been okay for a couple months now after some comfort and reassurance from your best friend, who you were having dinner with tonight. You glanced at the time. Your attention was unfortunately brought back to the girl on the phone, though, when she sighed your name as if she were the one who was hurt. She had no right to be hurt.

"I just-"

"I'm working," you finally said bluntly. "Is it urgent?"

"No. No, I'm sorry. I... I can call you tomorrow."

You wanted to snap and tell her not to bother, but you didn't. You just nodded despite her not being able to see it, said goodbye, and hung up. Once more you were faced with the urge to smash the stupid phone. Once more you fought it, instead shoving it into a drawer so you could ignore it and work on the mountains of paperwork you had to get through before your six o'clock reservations. You got back to it. Soon enough, the information was able to push your ex far from your mind. You didn't want to think about her anyway.

It felt like it had been eons since you'd arrived at work, and yet, according to the clock in the corner of your screen, you still had over an hour until your reservation. You might have slammed your head down onto the desk in front of you had two things not stopped you. The first was the migraine that was still throbbing in your head, and the second was the ringing of your office phone. Even though you knew she couldn't call you on here, you checked the caller ID before you picked up this time. It was the front desk.

"Hey, Tamara. What's up?

"There's someone here for you. She said you're going to miss your reservations."

"Reservations? It's only 4:45."

Tamara hesitated. "Daylight savings. It's 5:45."

You had entirely forgotten about that and even if you hadn't, you would have expected the computer would auto-update something like that. But you had forgotten, and the computer hadn't jumped forward, and now you were going to be late, and you still hadn't turned in the file that you'd promised to turn in today. You groaned in frustration, but transferred the file to a flash drive, shoved it into your bag, and left your office. Clearly, everyone else had remembered the time change, as the office was empty.

You cursed all of your coworkers in your head. You made for the elevator. When you stepped on and hit the button to bring you down to the lobby, you actually crossed your fingers. With your luck, all of the cables on the elevator would snap and you'd plummet all the way to the parking garage and die in a fiery explosion. Thankfully, your little gesture of luck seemed to work, for the doors slid open safe and sound in the lobby. As you stepped out, though, your bag hit the door, and the company ID snapped off and slipped in that tiny little crack between the elevator and the floor and out of sight. You cursed loudly.

You didn't dare shine your flashlight down the crack to try and see how far it'd gone; either your phone would have gone down after it out the doors would have slammed shut on either side of your skull. Neither of those things were a chance you were willing to take. You abandoned your ID and continued to the front desk, letting Tamara know what had happened. She nodded in understanding before pointing out your best friend, who had come to collect you after you'd let her know this morning that you'd taken an Uber to work. You approached her and tapped her shoulder.

"Hey," she said brightly.

"Hey, Nat."

Natasha Romanoff was the best thing to happen to you all day. She was your very best friend. Too, maybe you wanted her to be a little more. She was the most beautiful woman you'd ever laid eyes on, the red waves on her head only accentuating her emerald green irises, which sparkled when she smiled at you. That was only her physical beauty. Though she was, to most everyone that knew her, a tough, scary Avenger, you knew it was a façade. Natasha was the kindest, most generous, selfless, and caring person you'd ever had the pleasure of knowing.

"Tamara tells me you forgot about daylight saving time started last night."

"Shut up," you grumbled.

"Irritable because you lost an hour of sleep?"

"Nat," you said, already feeling bad for snapping at her. You rubbed your head. "I'm not having the greatest of days."

That was how your friendship with Nat was. You both understood that not every day was a good day. She tried to convince you not to compare, but you especially understood that. Natasha had been through hell on Earth when she was a child and you wished with every fibre of your heart that you could bear some of that for her. But you couldn't, and you were sure that if you could have, she wouldn't let you. So instead, you understood the bad days, and in turn, she did too. When you stated that today was one of those days, she turned to you with concern sparkling in those beautiful eyes.

"You okay?" She asked.

Your heart fluttered when her hand took yours.

It was a friendly gesture, of course, but you couldn't help but wish it otherwise. You wanted to hold her hand and have it not be just as a friend. You wanted to be able to intertwine your fingers with hers and squeeze her hand tight and feel that constant touch against her. You didn't want it to be friendly, you wanted it to be more. You wanted it to be so much more. You wanted to call her yours and for her to call you hers. But she was just a friend, and it was far better than nothing.

You hadn't always believed that someone could fall in love without some sort of a romantic relationship leading up to it. Now you realized it didn't need to be romantic. You and Natasha were close. You were closer than you'd ever been with anyone before. Because of that relationship, you knew you loved her. You were head over heels in love with her at this point, and you'd realized that a little while ago when you caught yourself fondly admiring her as she drummed her fingers against the table, deep in thought. It was a habit that had once had the ability to drive you up the wall.

"Hello?" She tried again. Her hand squeezed yours.

Your stomach flipped. "Yeah. I'm alright. Just waiting for my bad luck to run out."

"What happened?"

"What didn't happen?" You scoffed. "My fruit is all spoiled, my coffee maker broke, I spilled orange juice on my favourite white shirt, my car won't start, my bus wasn't running this morning, my Uber driver was a creep, I missed my meeting, I almost missed our reservations, I lost my ID badge and... she-who-must-not-be-named called."

Natasha's eyes darkened, her hand gripped yours tighter, and her gaze moved to meet yours. You took a chance and swiped your thumb over the back of her hand to try and get her to ease the tension out of her muscles. It seemed to work, as she relaxed a little. Her shoulders moved back down, the crease in her eyebrow lessened, she loosened her grip on your hand and exhaled carefully. She nodded in thanks, green eyes once against soft and gentle as she searched your eyes. You knew she was looking for any hint of you being upset. You weren't, though. You were with her.

Natasha hated your ex-girlfriend about a hundred times more than you did. She'd begged you to let her sneak over to her house at night and slash her tires and egg her house. You'd given that a firm no, not wanting Nat to get in any sort of trouble. It was Natasha's idea to never speak her name again, and to burn a bunch of photos and clothes that were left behind at your house. She'd gone so far as to have the bench you'd once carved your names into removed from the park and replaced with a brand new one... on Tony's Starks card, of course.

"What did she want?"

"Dunno. I told her I was busy," you actually laughed a little for the first time that day. "It wasn't exactly a lie. I was swamped today."

"Hey, if Fury is overworking you, I'll kick his ass."

Imagining Natasha kicking Nicholas Fury's ass was utterly amusing. You had no doubt she could, but Fury was a force. She'd kick his ass and the next day half of S.H.I.E.L.D. would be at her doorstep to retaliate. But he was a good boss. It wasn't his fault you'd procrastinated your own work for days. That was on you, and you knew it. So, you shook your head no, he wasn't overworking you. She seemed satisfied by that, but the topic of your ex wasn't dropped yet.

"Next time she calls you can direct her straight to me."

"Tasha, you won't answer."

"Damn right I won't."

You laughed again. It brought a smile to her face too.

With that, you continued on down the street without another word of she-who-must-not-be-named. You had almost reached the restaurant where Natasha had left the reservations when you stepped on something that most definitely was not concrete. If Natasha hadn't had your hand, your leg sliding out from underneath you would have left you on your ass. She held tight to your hand, her other arm catching you around the waist. You had to force yourself from blushing red as a tomato.

You glanced down at what you'd stepped in and could have punched someone. The white paint that was being used on the storefront had spilled onto the sidewalk and of course, you'd stepped in it in your new, black shoes. You scraped the bottom of it off on the sidewalk, grumbling all the while. Natasha had let go of your hand when you'd tugged it away from her to wipe the excess paint on the side of your shoe onto the post of the 'no parking' sign next to you. It was still ruined, but at least you'd gotten enough off that you wouldn't stain the restaurant's floor.

"You weren't kidding with the bad luck, huh?"

You shook your head no. You motioned onward, though. She got the hint, and you closed the distance between you and the restaurant. You shifted your bag on your shoulder as you stepped in, hoping they wouldn't notice the wet paint you were tracking onto their floors. If you managed in and out without them seeing, you'd be alright. It was New York City. You were sure people had walked in with worse things on the underside of their shoes.

You watched Natasha closely as she gave her name for the reservation. You hated how the host eyed her even more than you hated how your Uber driver had eyed you this morning. You didn't want anyone to eye her like that. You wanted to be the only one allowed to look at her like that. You knew you weren't, though. You ripped your gaze away from where it had been travelling along her jawline just in time for the host to arrive and lead you to your table. You sat across from her, keeping your eyes down and you collected your thoughts.

"What are you having?"

When you looked up, her eyes were trained on you. Her eyes were your absolute favourite part of her. They always shone so brightly, and so clearly expressed whatever she was feeling. They sparkled like they could see into your very soul and were so deep you could get lost in them for hours. Even the colour was perfect. They were that amazing shade of green that had very quickly become your favourite colour. You often found you'd been staring into them for a little longer than what might be considered normal. Now was one of those times. You looked back down at the menu.

"I'm not sure. Definitely a drink," you hummed. "Though I might get poisoned."

She rolled her eyes. "I don't think your luck is so bad that your assassin will choose to poison you today."

No, because she would protect you from anything. She always had. You might have been a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and perfectly capable of protecting yourself, but she was always stepping in front of you to defend you. You couldn't say you minded. You liked having her at your back. Some people had a physical location where they felt safe. You didn't. Natasha Romanoff was your safe place. When you were with her, you felt like nothing in the world could touch you. She wouldn't let anything hurt you, and you wouldn't let anything hurt her.

Soon enough the waitress was stepping up to your table and taking your order. You gave yours first, opting for a simple fettuccine alfredo. Natasha gave hers, unaware of the way you watched her lips moving as she talked. When the waitress left and she looked back to you, your eyes were cast toward the window, watching a young couple pass by, huddled close together in the cool March evening. When she called for your attention and you gave it immediately, looking over to her. She sipped her wine as you did.

"You said your car wouldn't start?" She said.

"Yeah. It keeps sputtering on and on."

"I'll drive you home and take a look at it tonight. I know a thing or two about cars."

It was a good thing she did, because you knew absolutely nothing about what was going on under the hood of the car. All you could think was that maybe the battery had died on you, but that wasn't possible. If you'd left the lights on, you would have been able to see it through the window in your bedroom the night previous, and you hadn't. There was no other reason the battery could have been drained. You'd driven the car yesterday from your house to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s New York location. You might not have known what the hell was wrong, but Natasha would figure it out in seconds. The thought of her bent over to study the underside of the hood made you shiver.

The image was pushed from your mind when the waitress returned with your food. She placed your pasta down in front of you and you thanked her politely. She set Natasha's down as well. The redhead smiled widely and after double-checking that everything was alright, the server left the two of you to your dinner. Natasha glanced up at you, a very amused smile playing on her lips. You knew exactly what it was about, too. You'd gotten the wrong order and said absolutely nothing of it. Honestly, you didn't really care. At this point in the day, you just wanted to eat.

"You could've said something," Natasha teased.

"It's nothing. I'm hungry and this is just as good."

"We can still say something."

"It's fine," you assured.

"Let's stop and buy you a couple hundred good luck charms on the way back to your place."

You laughed aloud.

Dinner was good, despite having gotten the wrong order. You suspected that was due to Natasha's presence. The two of you had been exchanging stores of the craziest missions you'd ever gone on. Of course, she was winning. She was an Avenger. Your missions as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent were anything but boring, but they didn't compare to the alien invasion last year that Natasha had been at the heart of. You'd been helping from the edges of the city, evacuating civilians and the like, but you suspected she'd killed hundred more of the Chitauri than you did: one.

Before long you'd both finished, and the empty plates were cleared away. The server returned to you with the bill. You made sure your card was out before Natasha could even think about trying to pay. They collected your card, and you gave Natasha a very smug little smirk. She only rolled her eyes and thanked you softly. You thought all was said and done when the server returned. You prepared to leave but she shook her head, signalling you to stop what you were doing. She reached out, handing you your card back. You took it.

"I'm afraid the transaction isn't going through."

It seemed that your bad luck had struck again. You were fully confident that there was enough money in your account. There had been last night when you'd checked it, anyway. Either you'd had the misfortune of your card deciding to kick the bucket while you tried to buy dinner for Natasha, or even worse, someone had gotten into your bank account and cleared it out. That thought made your heart drop into your stomach as you reached for your phone, hardly noticing Natasha pulling out her own credit card this time.

You prayed for one tiny bit of luck today. Your prayers went unanswered. You logged into your online banking to find that someone had managed to get your credit card number and had been online shopping all day. Your card had long hit its limit and you were already dreading the phone call you were about to have with the bank. You huffed as you set your phone down roughly on the tabletop. Natasha glanced over at you as the server took her card this time. She raised an eyebrow. You were sure smoke was billowing from your ears.

"Luck isn't turning yet?"

You didn't answer that. "Thanks for dinner, Natasha."

She laughed. When the server returned her card and wished you both a good evening, she took your hand and dragged you back out the doors onto the noisy streets of New York. She was leading you back to S.H.I.E.L.D., where you knew she must have left her bike. When you got there, she scanned her ID and brought you both down into the parking garage. She brought you right to the motorbike and lifted the helmet off from where it was hanging on the handlebars. She reached out and set it on your head, doing it up underneath your chin. Her fingers brushed your skin as she worked at the straps.

"Normally I would never condone riding without a helmet, but I only have one. This head," she said, rapping her knuckles twice against the helmet on your head. "Is much more important than mine."

"Is not," you laughed. "There's hundreds of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, but there's only six Avengers."

"And there's only one you," she insisted. "The helmet stays on that pretty little head of yours, and that's final."

That compliment seemed to awaken the butterflies in your stomach. They were still present when you both climbed onto the bike. They fluttered even more when Natasha told you to put your arms around her and hold tight. You could have stayed like this forever if she'd asked you to. You almost wanted her to ask you to, because you loved the ways your arms fit perfectly around her waist. Facing forward, she wasn't able to see the smile that was growing on your lips. Maybe all that bad luck was to make up for this.

Reluctantly, you took your arms off from around her when she pulled into your driveway. She put the kickstand down and took the helmet once you'd pulled it off and handed it back to her. You straightened out your hair a little bit in the reflection of your car window. Wordlessly, Natasha had moved to the hood of your car and tapped on the red paint to get your attention. You unlocked the car and popped the hood for her. She unhooked the latch and lifted it up, studying the inside carefully. That scene you'd been picturing earlier was coming true before your eyes.

"Start the car for me?"

You nodded. You dropped your bag on the doorstep, digging through the pockets until your hand had closed around your car keys. You withdrew them by tugging on the dinosaur keychain that Natasha had once given you after winning it at the arcade, where you'd spent hours at all the different games. You slid into the front seat, turning on the car when Natasha gave you the thumbs up. The car sputtered loudly. Then it made a sound you might have mistaken for a gunshot. The backfire nearly made you jump out of your seat. You quickly got out.

"You alright, Nat?"

"I'm good," she nodded. She moved away from the car. "It's probably just your spark plugs. When's the last time you had them replaced?"

You raised an eyebrow. "Hell if I know. I drop it off for a tune-up and expect them to tune it up."

Natasha laughed. "I'll grab some tomorrow and replace them for you."

You nodded. You watched as she reached up and grabbed the hood of the car, closing it again. She rubbed her hands against her pants. You clicked a button on your car keys, locking the doors. The lights flashed to indicate that it was indeed secured. You fiddled with the keys in your hand to get the house key out, opening your mouth to invite Natasha in as well, but found you couldn't find the golden key. You growled at nothing and dug through every pocket in your bag to see if it had fallen off in there, but there was no trace of it.

"My house key is missing."

Natasha actually laughed at this. "Did you walk under a ladder this morning? Spill the salt? Break a mirror?"

You glared at her. "Can you help me get in through a window?"

She nodded. You both moved around to one of the windows that you'd left open last night, after telling her you weren't sure you had locked it when you shut it this morning. Indeed, she found that once you'd removed the screen, she was able to slide the window open. You linked your fingers together to make a spot for Natasha to use for leverage. You boosted her through the open window and then moved back to the front door just as you heard the deadbolt slide out of place.

"My hero," you grinned as she opened the door. "I owe you a drink. Come on."

"I still have to drive home."

"Stay the night," you offered. "If you don't, I could very well just get murdered tonight."

Natasha laughed. "Well, I'd better stay and make sure you're okay, then."

You smacked her gently. She knew her way around your small bungalow well, having visited what could have easily been a million times. She made herself at home on the couch, tossing her leather jacket beside her. You moved into the kitchen, only paying half a glance at the towels you'd thrown over the two spilled beverages. You poured the both of you a drink and then brought them into the living room, kicking back on the couch beside her. You grabbed the remote, clicking the TV on. The screen lit up the room. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the beautiful face beside you that had been illuminated. You turned back to the screen.

"I can put Netflix on," you said, pressing a button. "What do you want to watch?"

"Can I test your luck?"

"What?" You responded, turning your full attention to her.

She didn't offer an explanation. You felt her hand touch your thigh. Your breath hitched and the remote almost fell to the floor. You managed to set it down on the table as your cheeks began to burn red. She left her hand there for a few seconds before it slid away, letting you take a moment to remember how to breathe. Her hand moved away and wrapped around her glass. You knew how obvious you were being when you watched her touch the rim to her lips and the slight movements in her neck as she swallowed the alcohol. You needed a drink too, but you were frozen.

"I just mean... I could either turn your luck around or just maintain the bad luck."

You still didn't know what she meant. She was setting her glass down on the coffee table. Her eyes searched yours and you were once again tossed into the sea of green that you were so obsessed with. When she leaned forward and connected your lips, though, you lost sight of emerald green. Her eyes had shut and only a second later, yours had fluttered shut as well. You put a hand on the back of her neck to hold her closer and moved your lips with hers. You wondered briefly if you were dreaming. You didn't have long with your thoughts. Your mind was so overcome with whatever was happening right now.

Natasha pulled back. Her hand had, at some point, moved back onto your thigh, and was resting there gently. Your hand moved to cover it. She flipped hers over so that her fingers could intertwine with yours and for the first time, it didn't feel like it was just in a friendly manner. It felt so much more than that, just liked you'd wanted it to. Your eyes moved from there up to her face. She had been studying you intently. You'd never seen Natasha Romanoff look nervous. Not until that very moment. You chuckled a little, nervousness in your chest as well, and let your eyes fall.

"You definitely turned it," was all you said.

"Yeah?"

"By a long shot. I mean, I think this amount of good luck was enough to actually balance out the bad luck."

You didn't know Natasha could giggle, but she did. The sound made a smile immediately spread over your face. You reached out and took her hands in your own. You leaned forward and kissed her again, infatuated with the feeling of her soft lips pressed against yours so rough and yet somehow so soft. One of your hands pulled out of hers so it could thread through the red waves on her head. You'd wanted to do that for so long. She only pulled back when you'd both lost your breath. Your forehead rested against hers and you could smell the whiskey on her breath.

"Do you know how long I've wanted that?" You breathed.

"I'd guessed it, but I thought it was just my imagination because I wanted the same thing."

You laughed. She put her hands on your shoulders, pushing your back down against the couch and then putting her knees on either side of your waist. Her lips were on yours again, a little hotter this time. You didn't complain. You just let her lean down over you and kiss you and run her hand down your side. You only raised a hand to her chest and pushed her away when you once more felt the need for oxygen burning inside your chest. She didn't move far, face inches from yours, studying you this time from above. You blushed under her gaze.

"I... I've felt really strongly about you for a while," you said, hand moving so you could trace your fingertips across her cheek. "You know what I mean?"

"Are you trying to tell me you love me without saying you love me?" She asked, the teasing back in her voice again. "Because you're not going to scare me off. You can say it if you want."

"I love you, Natasha."

"I love you, too."

You couldn't help but laugh. It wasn't funny in any way, but maybe it was the relief trying to find a way out of your body. The sound seemed to make Natasha's eyes, sparkle. Your heart softened and the laughter fell from your lips and you didn't move a muscle. Her face was so beautiful looking down at you like it was. You felt so right having her touch you like this and touching her the way you were. Her hands were holding her torso up above yours and yours were touching her face so gently. It wasn't like a friend touched a friend anymore.

"Thanks for turning my luck."

"Are you kidding me? I'm the lucky one."

"I think we're both really fucking lucky, Natasha. Thank you."

#natasha romanoff #natalia romanova #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #black widow x reader #mcu #marvel #wlw #lesbian

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jkstompers · 3 years

Text

noise complaints | myg

pairing: min yoongi x female reader

summary: yoongi is tired of his loud, video game addicted roommate, so he decides to move out and get his own apartment for some peace and quiet. but with his luck, gets you as his neighbor: a girl who plays bass in a band and hates the feeling of earbuds in her ears.

word count: 5.8k

genre: neighbor!au, producer yoongi, bassist oc, pwp ( ；∀；) i tried but rlly it’s just... smut

warnings: mature!! (18+!), explicit language, smut, making out, fingering, dom!yoongi, he’s a little mean

author’s note: hi!!!!!! in honor of yoongi’s birthday, i wanted to post this fic that i had sitting in my drafts! i hope u enjoy!! (´⌣`ʃƪ) pls let me know what u think!

banner pic creds here <3

yoongi doesn’t know how to tell his roomate, mark, that his gaming obsession has driven him to take extreme measures that consist of: moving out. he never stops playing video games. all day, all night, his eyes are fixed on the computer or tv screen, always screaming to his team mates about where to go or who’s fucking up. yoongi’s not sure if he can take it anymore.

he’s finally saved up enough to move into an apartment of his own, he’s been planning this for almost 6 months; already visited the apartment complex, discussed prices, background checks, etc. all yoongi really needs to do is finish signing the papers and start moving in.

he decides to just let mark know, no sugarcoat. as yoongi expected, mark practically begs on his knees for him to stay. his parents are paying for his share of the apartment but only if he splits the cost with a roommate, but yoongi’s gone through two years of it already, he’s over it. over the next few days, mark watches yoongi dejectedly as he packs his things.

by the end of the week, yoongi has finished packing and already signed the lease. he tells mark ‘good luck’ and leaves him in the dust, hopefully he’ll find another roommate, but that’s beyond yoongi’s concern now. all he has to worry about now is unpacking his boxes in his brand new apartment.

he looks around at the empty space, with the boxes cornered in one section. he smiles to himself, no noisy roomates, no unwashed dishes, no dirty laundry, ah, finally. peace and qui—

and that’s when he hears the blare of your speakers, it’s not loud enough for the entire complex to hear, but the music obviously bleeds through the shared wall. yoongi groans, knowing that this could be a complete repeat of mark. he’s not sure if he should knock on your door and ask you to lower the music down, it’s only his first day here. don’t you treat your neighbors with respect? why are you so loud?

yoongi decides to ignore it for now. he unpacks his things and starts furnishing the room so he can have a place to sleep for the night. when everything is put together, he feels the weight of the day; how much he’s been lifting and how he’s now renting an apartment hits him all at once. the dull pain resonates in his arms, his head starting to ache, and you’re still playing your fucking music. he can’t take it anymore, especially not with this ache getting worse.

yoongi feels his fist knock angrily against your door three times, he waits for you to open the door. except, he was not expecting a pretty girl to answer, he was expecting maybe an obnoxious frat guy; he’s absolutely flustered. you stand there and look up at him confused, “hi? did you need something?” your voice snaps him out of his thoughts.

“i’m— uh, i’m your neighbor, i’m sorry to disrupt, but if you could just lower your music down a bit, i’m really tired, and—” he starts but a gasp of excitement leaves you, cutting him off.

“my neighbor?! that apartment has been empty for so long! i’m so sorry, i was just so used to no one being able to hear! welcome! i’m ___!” you greet him cheerfully, taking his hands into yours and shaking them. yoongi feels his cheeks turn pink, your hands are soft and you’re so pretty.

“my name is yoongi,” he replies, he stands there not really knowing how to respond to the way you’re so excited. he wishes he could reciprocate but his head is pounding, all he wants to do is sleep.

you pick up on his energy, letting go of his hands to wave him off, “i’ll turn the music off for today, get some rest, yoongi, if you need help, some sugar or something, you can always just knock on my door,” you smile.

yoongi nods, “thank you, ___, goodnight.”

“goodnight, yoongi! nice meeting you,” you reply, closing your door. you blush behind the door, a neighbor? a cute one at that? there’s a sudden rush of adrenaline pulsing through your veins, testing you, telling you to blast your music just so he could come back and you could look at him one more time. but you decide it’s better not to, he said he was tired, maybe tomorrow.

yoongi returns to his apartment, thankful that you kept to your word and kept the music off. his body drifts his pounding head to sleep.

two weeks had gone by before yoongi’s eyes, he spent most of it buying furniture since the apartment looked so bare. one upside to a loft apartment was that he didn’t have to buy too much furniture, a bed, a couch, a tv, and maybe a rug was enough for him, for now of course.

in the time that’s passed, he’s learned that you like playing music when you’re studying, cleaning, when you’re doing anything really. whenever he thinks it’s too loud, he knocks through the wall, you get the hint most of the time. he’s also learned that you can play the bass and that you’re in a band. speaking of that, you’re having a meeting with them right now, and yoongi can hear every word of it.

your band mates decided to barge into your apartment today, waking you from your study nap and telling you that you all need to practice. the volume of their voices is jarring, you never realized how loud you and your surroundings were until yoongi moved in. you’re suddenly conscious about your volume at all times, his knocks whenever you were loud always made you feel terrible, but you couldn’t help but blush whenever you thought of him. you were torn, be loud and get his attention or be quiet and get on his good side.

“___! grab your shit and let’s go!” jungkook shouts. he’s the guitarist and lead singer of the band; he gets impatient sometimes.

“oh just let her daydream for a little bit, she’s probably thinking about her hot neighbor,” seulgi teases. she’s the drummer and your best friend. you don’t let her comment pass so easily, but you try to ignore the way your face heats up.

“you think he’s hot?” you quip back. a smirk on your face as you zip your bass into it’s case. yoongi is surprised at the way he can hear your voices so clearly, he wonders if you guys always talk this loud or if the walls are really that thin. “you haven’t even seen him yet,” you lug your bag over your shoulder.

“he sounds hot.” she shrugs, taking a bite of the apple she stole from your fruit basket. jungkook grows more and more antsy the longer you both talk.

“where’s taehyung anyway?” you ask. the realization comes to you when you feel a missing presence, knowing your 4th member would say something about yoongi.

“how nice of you to finally ask, he’s been waiting in the car for you slow pokes, let’s get going.” jungkook rushes, pushing you and seulgi out of the door. you turn to lock the door when you hear the door to your left slide open.

“oh my god, jungkook look, he’s hot.” seulgi smacks jungkook’s shoulder to make him look. your eyes are glued on the figure standing outside of apartment 77.

“hi— hey, yoongi,” you greet him while locking your door. it’s embarrassing the way the three of you are all almost drooling at the sight of him.

“hi, ___,” he sends a small smile to you, looking over to your bandmates hesitantly. yoongi notices jungkook, an assumption is made in his head almost immediately, boyfriend?

you scramble next to them and introduce them, “yoongi, these are my bandmates, seulgi, she plays the drums, and jungkook, he plays guitar and sings, there’s taehyung too, he plays guitar too but he— he’s um, in the car.”

“ah, nice to meet you.” he nods, greeting them as well. “i actually have to get to work, but it was cool meeting you all,” he excuses himself. you all wave to him.

“way to be fucking awkward guys,” you scold them when you’re all walking to the car. taehyung looks up from his phone to see the three of you walking his way, he starts the car once you open the door.

“hey, not our fault he’s good looking,” jungkook shrugs and seulgi holds her hand up for a high five, which he gladly gives her.

“not fair! you guys got to see ___’s hot neighbor while i was stuck in the car? i knew i should have just came in,” taehyung grumbles, pulling out of the apartment complex’s parking lot.

“it just so happened that he was leaving his apartment the same time we were, maybe you’ll meet him too tae,” you rub his arm. a somewhat sarcastic tone in your voice. taehyung rolls his eyes, starting the drive to the studio.

the music in the car was overshadowed by taehyung and seulgi arguing about when you and yoongi would finally hook up. you had to remind them that he hasn’t even been here a month yet, and that you guys barely talk besides the small hellos and awkward run ins when you’re doing laundry. it seems to keep them quiet, taehyung parks in the lot and you all move into the studio, making your way to the practice room the owners thankfully let you use to rehearse.

a couple songs are played and you all vote for a break. taehyung and jungkook having a guitar battle, seulgi leaning back against the wall on her phone, and you, need to pee! you leave the room and use the bathroom as usual, but a familiar bleach blonde head turns the corner and starts to walk down the hallway towards you, the breath you’re holding turns into a gasp when you realize it’s him. “yoongi?! why are you here?”

he looks up from the ground, looking as surprised as you when he realizes you were talking to him, “i work here, why are you here? are you following me?” he grills, you scoff at the question.

“i’m with my band, we’re rehearsing,” you explain. he raises his eyebrows, you’re not sure what it means. “you don’t believe me?” you pose.

“it’s just a little suspicious,” he shrugs, yoongi knows exactly what he’s doing. he hopes his hint makes sense to you, he’s never really been good at flirting. a familiar feeling erupts in his stomach, one that people could call butterflies whenever he saw you. he really just wants to see you play, and to hear you sing, that’s what he wants the most.

“uh, i can bring you to them? i promise i’m here with my band,” you laugh, warmth spreading to your cheeks. there is no way in hell that you’re going to play in front of yoongi. you were confident sure, but your embarrassing crush on him will make your fingers shake when you try to press the strings down. it’ll be a shitshow!

“can i pee first?” his small laugh brings a smile to your face. boys pee fast, you’ve learned that over time, so yoongi doesn’t take long. you’re both walking back down the hallway, “your boyfriend isn’t angry that you’re with me?” the random question makes your steps stutter.

“i’m sorry, what? boyfriend?” your eyebrows are furrowed as you stare up at him, his face isn’t showing any sign of humor, he’s serious.

“you’re not dating one of your band mates? isn’t that how it usually goes?” his lips purse as you continue to walk to the room that your band is occupying, he’s so serious that it makes you laugh.

“oh my god, yoongi, i’m single as a pringle, they’re my best friends, our number one rule is to never date within the band, that’s how things get messy,” you explain. a weight is taken off of yoongi’s shoulders, it wasn’t his fault he thought of it; you’re beautiful and surrounded by people that probably want you as much as he does.

“oh,” he answers, you both turn the corner and approach the door, “good to know.” the door opens to your three members looking at the two of you with raised eyebrows.

“oh my god, it’s him,” seulgi points to yoongi with her drumstick. you wave your hand to signal her to put it down, ‘it’s rude!’ you mouth.

“are you yoongi?” taehyung asks, taking his guitar and putting it down on it’s stand. yoongi nods, holding his hand out to shake taehyung’s, which he doesn’t take. instead taehyung pulls him into a hug, yoongi doesn’t expect the sudden action of affection, his arms not knowing what to do. “it’s so nice to finally meet you! ___ talks about you a lot,” taehyung’s confession makes your face flush.

“taehyung! what the fuck!? i’ve talked about you like twice, yoongi, i swear,” you defend yourself, pushing taehyung off of him. you laugh awkwardly, yoongi shoots you both a gummy smile.

“nice to meet you, taehyung,” he completely ignores your defense. he finds it cute, your flustered face as you try to tell taehyung to shut up.

“anyways,” you huff. “yoongi thinks i followed him here, so i am showing proof that i’m actually here with you guys and not stalking him.”

your friends snort at the same time, “actually, yoongi, we have no idea who this girl is! i think she’s following you,” taehyung whisper-shouts, you smack his shoulder.

“no but really, ___ we were just gonna call it a day, seulgi said she has to go to a family dinner soon and taehyung said he was hungry,” jungkook speaks up. it’s then that you realize that their instruments were almost all packed. yoongi looks down at you, a small smile on his face once he realizes what they’re trying to do.

“i leave to pee for five minutes and you guys hatch a plan to ditch me?!” you cross your arms over your chest.

“well… we just told you, so, technically we didn’t ditch you, also i can’t drop you off, yoongi, you can drop her off, right?” taehyung smiles to him.

“i—“ yoongi starts but you cut him off with plans to scold your members. they knew exactly what they were doing and you weren’t having it.

“taehyung, you’re dropping me off, let’s not bother yoongi,” you move to pack your bass but yoongi shakes his head.

“i can drop you off,” he smiles.

“oh, see! perfect! thank you, yoongi.” taehyung grabs his hand and gives him a good shake, before you know it your members are out the door.

you sigh as you lift your case and sling it over your shoulder, “it’s okay, yoongi, i can walk.”

he rolls his eyes, “don’t be ridiculous, are you hungry? we can eat first.”

his hand is outstretched and you’re not sure what it means, does he want to hold your hand? but no, he’s asking for your bass, so he can hold it instead of you. you reject his offer, “i can hold it.”

“you’re really stubborn,” he notes. it makes you snort.

“you’re not into stubborn girls?” the joke slips from your mouth before you can think.

this is the perfect time, yoongi thinks. “if it’s you, maybe i’ll make an exception.”

you try your best not to show any type of reaction, but you can’t really ignore the way your heartbeat quickened. yoongi leads you to his car, putting your bass in the trunk as you get comfortable in the front seat. he follows you soon enough and is driving out of the studio parking lot.

“you don’t have to work?” you question. getting into the car of someone you barely know is quite risky of you, but he was your neighbor, and he was hot. that doesn’t give you a reason to trust him, though for some reason, you think you can rely on yoongi, it’s a gut feeling.

“technically i work all day, i’m on my own schedule, i basically spend the entire day in the studio,” he explains. his focus is on the road but from his peripheral he can see your body turned to him, and your eyes glued on him.

“workaholic?” you guessed, he smiles.

“you could say that.”

“that’s good then, i’m giving you a reason for a break!” you clap, your nervousness fading as you start to get comfy with yoongi.

a friendship blooms from that lucky, odd encounter that day.

you forgot how long it’s been since you officially met yoongi and spent the day with him, maybe two months? three months ago? you never kept track. but you do remember that things changed after that. the two of you so obviously flirting with each other whenever you had the chance. yoongi would offer you a ride to the studio, which you greedily took whenever he asked; because he was a cool guy to be with, and in all honesty you were trying to put the moves on him. you’re not sure if he’s taking the hints though, you’ve never been good at the shy type of flirting, most of the time you’re upfront.

speaking of being upfront: yoongi hasn’t really been complaining about your noise lately, and it’s been eerily quiet on his end. no knocks on the wall when your volume was a tad bit higher than usual, no texts telling you to ‘be quiet’ when you were practicing late at night, nothing. you figure it’s because the two of you have grown a lot closer. hanging out together and even making some inside jokes together type of close.

it’s soon that you figure out why yoongi hasn’t been upfront, complaining to you about your noise, because he talked to your apartment manager about it. you knew namjoon well, he was one of your classmates in college. his father originally owned the place, so he’s been taking over for him. you’ve grown close to namjoon due to situations that left you outside of your apartment multiple times without your keys. his master key saved your ass one too many times. so, when you received a letter from him in the mail this morning with a big red ‘important’ stamp on it. you knew you were in trouble.

the words noise complaints, your neighbor, and eviction were the only ones you needed to read for you to be stomping towards yoongi’s apartment. you didn’t care that it was ten in the morning and you’re banging on yoongi’s door. you knocked nonstop until he opened up. his sleepy face scrunched in confusion as he stood before you.

“___? what’s wrong?” his morning voice could have made you melt, if you weren’t so fucking angry. you step past him, moving inside his apartment. “okay, come in, i guess,” yoongi says as he shuts the door behind you.

“you complained about me?! i got a fucking letter from namjoon! he never sends letters!” you raise your voice. it’s too early in the morning to be yelling, your voice is a bit rough, it sounds like you’re croaking.

it’s also way too early for yoongi to be dealing with this, so his voice is soft when he says, “be quiet, we’re gonna get complaints from the other neighbors now too.” he walks up to you and your very angry expression. he just looks so kissable right now, it’s making you angrier. how could he look so perfect when you’re mad at him? that’s so rude!

you lower your voice when you ask, complying to his demand. you cross your arms over your chest, “why would you do that?”

yoongi laughs.

it makes your eyebrows furrow. was he not taking you seriously? you loved this apartment, you needed to live here. it makes the anger boil a little hotter. “you think this is funny, yoongi? i’ve—” your voice is raising once more.

this time yoongi rolls his eyes. “shut up.” his voice grew deeper than it already was, the bass traveling straight to your lower belly.

you try to act as if it had no effect on you, but your small silence before you spoke made things a little obvious. “excuse me? shut up?” you scoff. your feet carrying you closer to yoongi, breaking the distance in effort to intimidate. yoongi wasn’t one to be scared, if anything, he found it funnier.

but the way that your pretty face looks when you’re angry makes yoongi want to do more, wants to push and push because he can feel the tension between you both. you can too. “yeah, you’re so goddamn loud all the time, shut the fuck up.” he moves a little closer, the distance between you both is almost none.

it makes your eyes flicker to his lips. here you were, thinking that you were gonna teach yoongi a lesson, yet you want to kiss him. “want me to shut up?” your eyes move back to his, making eye contact. he licks his lips in anticipation. “make me,” you press.

you feel his soft hand against your cheek first, leading you to his lips. then it was the plush of his lips against yours. this feeling could definitely make you shut up. before you knew it, you were pushing yoongi over to his couch. he breaks the kiss to plop down onto the couch, you follow suit, straddling his lap.

“if you wanted to make out with me, you could have just asked.” you spoke before reattaching your lips.

he smiles into the kiss, “where’s the fun in that?”

the kiss deepens, tongues exploring each other’s mouths and small whimpers escaping your throat. they go straight to yoongi’s groin, you can feel his hard cock against your core through your sweatpants. instinctively, you grind down, the feeling makes him groan out.

his large hands move to your ass, running over them and trailing up to your waist. his hands sliding under your shirt, you know you aren’t wearing a bra, and yoongi finds out soon after. his thumbs running right over your hard nipples, “eager?” he smirks.

you roll your eyes, “i’m just cold.” the lie makes yoongi scoff, tweaking your nipples between his thumb and index fingers. now, goosebumps raise over your skin, and it wasn’t because of the cold.

“take your shirt off,” he speaks against your lips. usually, you weren’t one to follow orders, your rebellious spirit screaming in your head, telling you to take control. but you’ve never wanted anything more than to let yoongi have you, let him do whatever he wants to you. because outside of this, he just seems so nice, never mean, never demanding. you can’t help but indulge in this new side of yoongi you’ve discovered.

so you’re taking your shirt off, the breeze created by his air conditioner makes you shiver, but yoongi's warm hands are there to comfort you. running them over your breasts, squeezing them just right as he kisses down your throat. “y-yoongi—” you whimper. his lips find a certain spot that has you grinding harder onto his dick.

“you aren’t very patient,” he speaks against your skin. “i’ll let it slide this time.” a tender kiss to your neck is placed before he lingers on the spot a little longer, sucking and licking, making sure to leave a pretty red mark. he makes his way to your nipple, wrapping his mouth around the bud and sucking. the feeling makes you throw your head back, his hand tweaks your other nipple, refusing to neglect it.

it was true, you were not patient. you hated waiting too long for something, just like how you hate the feeling of your warm core go uncared for. the grinding wasn’t enough at this point, you wanted more, needed it really. “are you gonna fuck me or not?” you push him gently off of your nipple.

an almost annoyed gaze is painted on his face, “are you going to beg?” he quirks an eyebrow.

you weren’t one to plead, “no.”

“then no,” he asserts. you purse your lips, complete dissatisfaction displayed on your face. “don’t worry, kitten, i’ll make you feel good.” yoongi gives in. he didn’t know how long he could hold back, your attitude makes him want to check you, make you cum as many times he wants you to until you’re obeying.

the nickname makes you drip. he’s pushing up from below, his leg kneeling onto the couch as he lays you down. your head lays against the pillow he has on the couch, yoongi gives you a swift kiss before he moves down, trailing kisses on the valley of your breasts and your stomach, stopping just before the waistband of your sweatpants. “yoongi,” you mewl.

“hm? wanna beg now?” he challenges. his fingers teasingly slipping under the band. your body reacts so easily to his touch, your hips slightly jerking up at the graze of his hands.

but you’re stubborn, not wanting to let yoongi win even though the only thing you want right now is for him to make you feel good. “no, never.” you shake your head.

yoongi doesn't verbally reply, instead, nodding and smirking to himself. “can i eat you out then?” he asks. you don’t trust your words, so you nod, knowing you’ll fall into the trap yoongi has set. “i need to hear you say it, kitten.”

“yes,” you quickly say.

yoongi quirks a brow. “yes, what?”

you roll your eyes, just once, you tell yourself. “yes, please.”

“good girl,” he praises. you hate to admit that you liked the way he called you a good girl. your sweatpants and panties are pulled down at the same time, revealing your wet pussy. “so pretty, baby.” he positions himself between your spread legs. you bite your bottom lip in anticipation.

kisses against your thighs and pubic bone are what he starts off with, then a brief kiss to your clit that makes you gasp. “oh, god—” you lean your head back against the couch.

“also, just to let you know, the letter was a joke,” yoongi breathes. mouth ghosting your lips, where you need him the most.

at first you didn’t pay attention to what he said, a hum leaving your lips until then you realized, “what?!”

“i thought it’d be funny to scare you a little bit, namjoon and i are friends, i asked him if he could do it for me.” he explains with a smile on his face.

you rolled your eyes. you knew it was too serious to be namjoon, his style was more so speaking, not letters. you couldn’t be mad at him, at least you weren’t in trouble. but you play it up for the fun, “will you make it up to me?” a sly look on your face.

“what do you want?” he leans his head against your thigh, waiting patiently for your answer. his fingers ever so gently running up and down your thighs.

“your cock,” you demand with a mischievous smile. your hands run through his hair, eyes pleading because you won’t allow your mouth to let the words out.

yoongi acts like he thinks about it, but all he truly wants, is to devour your and make you feel so good. “you don’t deserve it.” he denies you of the pleasure you want, but he surprises you, running his tongue along your slit.

“oh— oh, yoongi,” you mewl. your hands moving to play with your boobs, but yoongi knocks your hands away. he directs them to his hair, telling you to pull. his hands replace yours, playing and tweaking with your nipples as his tongue does the work.

“taste so good, baby.” yoongi loves the sight of you so vulnerable in front of him. you’re bare, naked while yoongi still has all his clothes on. he loves it. your eager body twitching from the ministrations of his tongue. he pulls away for a second, “don’t cum until i say so.”

“that’s not— umph!” you start but yoongi retracts his hands from your breasts, bringing them back to your thighs to spread them further apart. your lips reveal your sweet spot for yoongi to take, and he’s relentless. the taste of you on his tongue drives him crazy. “that’s not fair,” you moan out.

yoongi doesn’t care. he loves being in control. so when your phone starts to ring, yoongi thinks this is the best time to assert dominance. “answer it,” he commands. he pulls away from your pussy, the loss of the feeling of his tongue makes you groan out in displeasure. in turn, yoongi rubs his middle and ring fingers against your clit. it makes you gasp. he slips the fingers in, your walls pulsating against his fingers. another moan leaves your lips. you were completely ignoring the rings coming from your phone. he repeats himself, “answer the phone, baby.”

“but,” you spoke. your worry being that you were so wound up and yoongi’s fingers were still residing inside of you. you knew it would be way too obvious.

“they won’t know,” he assures. a gentle touch against your thigh comforting you, making you believe this was a good idea.

your fucked out brain obliges, your hand moving to reach for your phone. jungkook’s contact name displayed on the screen, you press the green button and place the phone next to your ear. “jungkook? what’s up?” you answer. yoongi’s eyes locked onto yours as you speak.

“speaker,” he mouths. you nod, mindlessly obliging. taking the phone away from your ear and pressing the speaker button. his fingers dangerously still in your pussy, ready to cause chaos whenever he felt like it.

“dude! guess fucking what!” jungkook shouts over the phone. yoongi pushes deeper, bottoming out his fingers. it makes your eyes roll back, a quiet gasp escaping your lips.

you’re moving the phone away so he doesn’t hear it, but yoongi is pushing your hand back into position. “what?” you cough, trying to cover the noise.

“you okay? you sound… weird.” jungkook snorts over the phone, you can hear seulgi and taehyung in the back, their bickering all too familiar.

“i— i’m good.” you nod even though he can’t see you.

“okay, well, this guy from a record label called earlier, he said he wants to take us all out to eat and talk about our future!” jungkook informs. your eyes widen. a record deal?! even yoongi reacts, a cute, surprised look on his face. how funny was it that you were receiving this news with yoongi’s fingers fucking you.

“you’re lying.” you sit up a little bit, leaning onto your forearm. yoongi decides to be nice, letting his fingers stay stagnant in your hole so you can enjoy the news.

“i’m serious! we’re on the way to yours right now to pick you up, be ready in five minutes,” he tells you.

“right now?!” you exclaim. yoongi smirks, starting to pumping his fingers in and out of you, making your breaths a little more labored. “oh— fuck,” you groaned, you tried to cover it up by making it sound like you were annoyed. but anyone could be able to tell what you were doing, the squelch of your pussy loud enough for the entire apartment complex to hear probably.

“what the hell are you—” jungkook starts but you cut him off, yoongi’s fingers moving faster and the string in your belly about to snap from the tension.

“okay, jungkook! bye! love you! see you in a bit!” you rush the words out and press the big red button to hang up, throwing your phone onto the floor as yoongi leans over you with a smile on his face.

“congratulations, baby.” he punctuates his sentence with a quick circle around your clit. you’re so wound up, you could feel tears starting to build up in your eyes.

“yoongi, please, please let me cum.” you beg, giving in to his desires. the sound of your begging is music to his ears. he smirks, quickening the tight circles around your clit. your legs spreading wider if that was even possible.

yoongi’s plans were cut short due to your new plans, but he didn’t mind. he was happy for you, and he’s never wanted to make someone cum as much as he does now. “alright, kitten, cum whenever you want,” he whispers in your ear. his fingers coated in your wetness gliding against your clit, it feels way too good. the string in your belly snapping as soon as he gave you permission.

you found yourself letting out some of the loudest moans because yoongi was just that good. “holy fuck, yoongi,” you gasp. your chest rises and falls quickly, taking in as many breaths as possible.

“good job, baby.” he kisses your neck, letting you recover before slipping his fingers out and bringing them up to your lips. at first you furrow your eyebrows, this isn’t something you usually do; but when he says, “open,” you find yourself obliging easily. “good girl,” he smiles as you suck your cum off of his fingers.

you pull his fingers from your mouth when you’re sure you’ve sucked them clean, “i got a record deal dinner, min!” you rush to put your clothes on. yoongi tries his best to help, but all he wants to do is give you a big hug. he lets you put your clothes on before he’s holding you in his grasp, while you’re trying to make your way to his door. the two of you wobbling to his door.

“let me kiss you first, rockstar.” he smiles, his hand gently taking ahold of your face and giving you a kiss. it tastes just like you, the sultry memory that will live in yoongi’s brain for as long as it’s able.

he tries to kiss you once more, but you’re pushing him away. “i gotta go, yoongi,” you giggle. his hands holding you close to him, your back pressed against his front door as you kiss each other sloppily. “yoongi!” you smile, more laughs erupting as he helps you open the door. as soon as the door slides open, yoongi’s eyes move behind you, a sly smile on his face.

you turn to see your three band mates, all of their mouths agape. “i fucking told you! pay up, idiots!” seulgi smacks the both taehyung and jungkook’s shoulders.

your face blushes tomato red. you try to hide your face as you open your apartment door. before you turn the key, you hear yoongi congratulate the four of you. “good luck at your label meeting! make sure they don’t scam you,” he advises. your bandmates laugh, thanking yoongi and moving into your apartment. they don’t let you live down the embarrassment for the entire night.

when you come back home, you sit on your couch. a smile taking over your face when you think about how great the day was. you think the dinner went perfect, and when you hear a knock on your door, it has you rushing to open it.

yoongi stands outside your door with a cupcake and a single lit candle stuck in it. “congratulations!— it went well right?”

you stand in front of him, a sweet smile on your face as you nod. “i think they loved us,” you pull him into your apartment.

“of course they did! you guys are amazing!” yoongi hugs you, holding the cupcake above your head so it doesn’t get in your hair.

the rest of the night you and yoongi enjoy each other’s presence and the two of you talk about everything and nothing.

yoongi says the cupcake is just for you, but you take a knife and split it, “for us.” you give him a quick peck before eating your half, and then kissing him once more.

for us. it repeats in yoongi’s mind.

us.

yeah, he’d like that.

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highqueenofelfhame · 3 years

Text

I’m not posting a tag list for this part because it’s late and I’m exhausted and wanna get it out for you guys. If it does poorly I’ll go back and tag but right now I’m just very over tag lists. Follow the “#hqoe f&f” tag or “falsehoods & fistfights” or “Hqoe writes” tags to more closely follow my work. You can also follow @highqueenofelfhamewrites and turn on post notifications if you want to be notified of my writing! I’m not doing this to be mean, I’m doing it to save time and frustration when the tagging system fails (as it often does)

Hugest shoutout in the world to @punkassbookjockey26 for being the best beta in the entire world. She helped so much with this update!! Give her a pat on the back.

Part One // Masterlist

Rowaelin // 5681 words

~*~

For the last several hours, the clatter of her clicking keyboard and the flipping of pages had been on a continuous loop. At some point, Aelin had opened Spotify and forgotten to turn on any music, clearly content to keep to her rigorous work pace in near-silence. The door to her office was closed, and no one had stopped by to bother her since she’d arrived. Only a handful of phone calls had disrupted her this morning, which meant she had gotten plenty of work done.

Except that it wasn’t morning at all— it was two in the afternoon, and she couldn’t quite figure out how the hell that had happened. She was still squinting at the time on her computer screen when a firm knock sounded at the door, and she called out, “Yes?”

“Have you eaten today?” At the sound of Rowan’s voice, Aelin’s head whipped toward the door. She was unable to stop the smile that spread wide across her face or stop herself rising from her chair to meet him. Aelin perched against her desk, accepting the brown paper bag he held in his hands. No, she hadn’t eaten, not since her half a bagel and cup of coffee before she arrived at work. She’d left a banana in her car for a snack but hadn’t wanted to run back down for it.

“Barely. I didn’t even realize it was past lunch,” Aelin sighed, looking back up at his face. Rowan was grinning down at her as she tore a bite of croissant off and popped it into her mouth. The man looked criminally good, wearing jeans that hugged his legs in all the right places and a white button-up shirt. He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, and her eyes lingered on his tattoo that swirled down to his fingertips.

“Can I kiss you in here?” His question caught her off guard, a laugh bursting from her lips. “Because this whole…” Rowan gestured to her outfit. “It’s really doing it for me.”

“You like librarian Aelin?”

“Yes,” he said, leaning down to press his lips to hers. The get-up he referred to was a pinstriped pencil skirt that hit just above her knees and patent black stiletto heels that had her only a few inches shorter than him. She had a red tank top tucked into the skirt and, at some point, had discarded her white cardigan over the back of her office chair. Her lips matched her shirt in a bright, matte, red lipstick that she’d neglected to touch up throughout the day. Still, when Rowan pulled away, his mouth was tinged with the outline of hers. “I like this a lot. Fuck.”

“For the record, you can kiss me anywhere you want to,” she told him. “Especially in my office, especially when the door is closed.”

“Noted.” Rowan tugged on her high ponytail before sinking into one of the leather armchairs in front of her. Aelin continued to munch on the variety of pastries he’d brought for her while his eyes seemed to be glued to her legs. Aelin wondered if he was thinking about laying her out on this desk and having his way with her here, but she also knew he wouldn’t let that be their first time. No matter how badly she wanted it to be.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Whitethorn?” She asked, nudging his thigh with the toe of her shoe. The way he raked his teeth over his bottom lip before looking up at her told her that, yes, he was thinking what she was thinking. The way he quirked his brow at her also told her that, no, it wasn’t going to happen.

They were kind of dating, in the sense that they had been on a handful of dates. They had shared many heated kisses against the door to her apartment when he dropped her off, but he was being such a godsdamn gentleman about all of it that they hadn’t had sex yet. Aelin would have fucked him in the bathroom of the bar that first night, and they both knew it. But something was holding him back. To be fair, she couldn’t place all of the blame on him. She was holding back as well. Whatever this was between them felt like something that could be extraordinary, and she didn’t want to be the one that fucked it all up because she couldn’t keep it in her pants.

“I have a fight on Saturday, and I was really hoping you would want to come. Obviously, I would give you tickets, plus however many extra you want to bring whoever.”

“Just Aedion, I think.” Her cousin would likely die to be personally invited to one of Rowan Whitethorn’s fights, the same way Aelin knew he’d been having a bit of a mental breakdown when he found Aelin with him at the bar.

“Not your friends’ cup of tea?” He teased with a grin.

“Not even really mine, but you get like, almost naked for these things, yeah?” Rowan’s head tilted back as he laughed, reaching out to catch her fingers between his own. He squeezed them, shaking his head at her. “I’m just saying, any female fans you have are not because they want to watch you fight. I Googled you.”

“Of course you did.”

“And if coming on Saturday,” she paused, fighting the twitch of her lips at the innuendo, “is what gets me to see you sweaty and naked, I will be there.”

“Apparently, you can find that on Google also.” Aelin started to jerk her hand from his, but he laughed again and tugged forcefully enough that she dropped into his lap, his arms settling around her hips.

They didn’t have sex on her desk by the time he left, but he did have a trail of lipstick down his neck and red smudges on his collar.

~*~

There had only been a few times where Aelin had seen Aedion this excited. He was practically jumping out of his skin, trying and failing to keep his wide grin at bay. The whole way there, he’d talked about Rowan’s stats and how likely it was for him to win this fight. Apparently, it was very likely, and according to Aedion, if anyone bet against Rowan in the gambling pools, they were going to lose a lot of money.

This version of Aedion was almost completely opposite the one that had shown up an hour late to the bar a few weeks ago, only to find Aelin perched in his personal hero’s lap.

By the time Aelin spotted a familiar head of golden blonde hair making his way through the crowd, Rowan had stayed true to his promise. He’d bought her not one but two drinks, and she had a very happy buzz flowing through her.

“Aedion!” She hadn’t bothered to get out of Rowan’s lap; she liked the way his hand felt on her thigh, the other twirling a piece of hair around his finger while he talked to the tall, broody one— Lorcan.

“I’m sorry I’m late.”

“It’s okay; I made friends! And a fiancé!” Rowan laughed then, sticking his hand out for Aedion to shake.

“I’m the fiancé. Rowan Whitethorn. You must be the cousin she’s been waiting on.”

“I got held up at work. Aedion Ashryver, nice to meet you.” Despite the cool and collected exterior Aedion was giving off, Aelin knew without a doubt that he was dying inside. She spent several nights curled up on his couch while Aedion and his friends watched Rowan’s fights, though she’d never cared enough to pay attention. Usually, she disappeared to his guest room to read a book or snuck out after an acceptable amount of time to hang out with her own friends.

Aelin had heard about Rowan’s victories time and time again. When Aedion showed her different self-defense moves, he would say that Rowan Whitethorn took someone down with the same simple maneuver. To say that he admired Rowan would be an understatement. He damn near idolized him.

“Nice to meet you? That’s what you’re going with?” Aelin asked, mouth dropping open as everything Aedion had ever said about the man beneath her flooded her memory. Aelin looked at Rowan, shaking her head and pointing at her cousin. “All I ever hear about when you have a fight coming up is ‘Rowan Whitethorn this’ and ‘Rowan Whitethorn that.’ Yet now he’s here, and all he says is nice to meet you. Unbelievable.”

“Rowan doesn’t look like someone who particularly cares for fan service. Though if I’m wrong, correct me, and I will rectify that immediately. On my knees even, if he decides he’s interested in men at all.”

Aelin’s lips dipped into a drunk pout as she said, “I saw him first.”

“Technically, I saw you first,” Rowan interjected, a teasing tone in his voice. “And you rejected me.” A wrinkle appeared between her brows as she looked up at Rowan’s handsome face, disliking that she was already being ganged up on.

“I’m sorry— you rejected him?” Aedion sputtered in disbelief. Aelin flicked Rowan’s nose, and just like that, they settled into an easy banter that tugged on Aelin’s heart entirely too much.

Now, though, Aedion seemed to be nearly vibrating out of his skin with excitement. At will-call, they’d learned Rowan had set aside special floor seating just for them. When they walked into the arena, Aelin was pleased to see Rowan’s group of friends from the bar. She’d spent the most time with Fenrys than anyone else, and he welcomed her with a big hug, insisting she sit beside him instead of Lorcan. Aelin was more than happy to oblige, as Lorcan didn’t seem to have a taste for her. He didn’t even bother saying hello.

They settled into their seats, Aelin sitting between Fenrys and Aedion, both of whom had skipped the pleasantries and moved right into a conversation about the upcoming fight. Aelin leaned back into her chair and took in the surroundings. There were bits and pieces she remembered from her time barely watching matches with Aedion, but it was still different than what she expected. There was a large octagonal ring in the center of the room surrounded by black fencing that had to be about six feet tall. She wondered briefly if the fence was to keep people out or to keep the fighters in.

People were milling about, but Aelin realized that the arena itself was three levels high, and seats were piled around the room from floor to ceiling. There had to be thousands of them, and from the look of the crowds filing in, there wasn’t going to be an empty spot in the house. She hadn’t realized that MMA had such a following.

After about twenty minutes, the lights dimmed and the booming voice of the announcer filled the arena. People cheered wildly as the introductions for the fight were made and the sponsors were thanked. And finally, Aeling knew it was time. The announcer over-dramaticized the entrance for the first fighter and Aelin watched as a lean-muscled man walked up to the ring. He entered through a gate on the side, and people cheered as he made his rounds. Aelin sat on the edge of her seat for the announcer to start his next introduction, ready to see Rowan walking through the tunnel, when a different name was announced and a different man came strolling out. The confusion must have been all over her face when she looked at Aedion because he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.

“Rowan is the main event,” he said. “Which means there are a few fights before his.”

“Seriously? You mean I have to wait?” Aedion nodded and her scowl deepened. “How long?”

“Looking at the schedule, Rowan’s fight is slated to start in about two hours.”

“Two hours?! I have to wait two hours!?”

“Come on, Ace. It won’t be that bad. Just try to enjoy it.” Aedion turned away and was immediately drawn into the fight that had begun in the ring just a few feet in front of her. Aelin pouted, remembering all the reasons why she never stuck around to watch these matches with Aedion previously.

“All I wanted was to see Rowan sweaty and half-naked. I literally don’t care about anyone else,” she grumbled, mostly to herself. Beside her, Fenrys chuckled and threw his arm around the back of her seat as she settled back. Aelin frowned down at her phone, opening Snapchat to get a quick photo of her expression, which she promptly sent to Rowan.

It took him a good ten minutes to reply back to her, and it seemed he knew why she was pouting because the text across his photo simply said be patient.

After that, she didn’t want to bother him, and whatever pre-match rituals he may have, so she settled for scrolling through various social media apps to bide her time. When she found herself restless, she gave in and opened her book app to continue reading a romance novel she’d started the day before. The male love interest may have been a boxer and may have been incredibly sexy, and she may have downloaded it after searching for fighting-related books.

She had just reached a particularly steamy part of the book when she felt Aedion nudge her arm. Godsdamn him, the leading male was just about to give the girl the orgasm of her life when he’d interrupted. Aelin scowled up at her cousin, but the expression morphed into one of incredulity and excitement when she heard Rowan’s name announced, and he walked out into the arena.

Aelin immediately perked up in her seat, sliding her phone between her thigh and the chair. Rowan strolled out like a king surveying his kingdom, and the cheers were deafening. He wore absolutely nothing but a pair of forest green athletic shorts that left little to the imagination and some sort of fist guards over his hands. A wicked grin formed on his lips as he jogged up to the ring and hoisted himself up over the side with practiced ease. There was a very dramatic introduction, one that had the entire crowd screaming and getting to their feet. Aelin couldn’t help but join them, giving a standing ovation to the man she’d spent so many stolen hours with lately. Beside her, Aedion was absolutely losing it. It only made her smile more.

Even as the arena quieted while the referee explained the rules, nobody returned to their seats. Everyone stayed on their feet, and Aelin could understand why. Once the fight started and the hits and kicks started to get thrown around, she found herself filled with a restless energy that she couldn’t push down. Every time his opponent’s fist swung toward him, her heart began to beat frantically in her chest.

But Rowan ducked and dipped out of reach almost every time. The way the muscles of his arms and legs rippled every time he took a swing at the other man, Cairn, her mouth went dry. She hadn’t walked into the arena tonight expecting to find anything about the fight beautiful, but it was. The way that Rowan’s body moved was like watching a dance unfold before her. Every swing of his arm or swift kick of his leg sending her heart racing just like it had when she’d watched ballets growing up. It felt like such a bizarre comparison to make, but Rowan Whitethorn’s body was nothing short of a work of art.

But there was also a ferocity in it. Where ballet was soft and demure, Rowan was a force of nature. His face was hewn from stone, each strike with his hands or legs precise and controlled, but with an element of chaos surrounding it. He unleashed himself on Cairn, throwing punches and kicks swiftly, so quick that Aelin could not keep up with where the next one was going to land. With brutal efficiency, Rowan managed to get past Cairn’s guard to deliver several painful-looking blows in quick succession that had the crowd collectively wincing. It seemed that Aedion’s idolization hadn’t been misplaced.

Rowan breathed heavily, sweat dripping down every inch of his torso. His abdominals flexed with every exhale, showing off every hard line and sharp curve. The tattoo that swirled down his left side glistened under the bright lights of the arena. He looked like a god, and Aelin discovered that she found it quite difficult to keep her mind from falling off into the gutter when he looked like that.

When he made the final blow, a hit to Cairn’s face that had him unconscious before he even hit the floor, Aelin was surprised by how wholly turned on she was. He dominated the fight and looked damn good while doing it. Rowan was announced as the winner, fierce triumph written all over his face as the crowd completely lost their minds. Pride swelled in her stomach, and she couldn’t help her wide smile as she cheered along with the thousands of people in the arena. Even though it was televised, it felt special when he made eye contact with her and grinned before exiting the ring and heading her way.

Of course, he was intercepted about a dozen different times by dozens of different people offering their congratulations. When he finally got to her, he dipped down and hugged her tightly to his chest, pulling her feet off the ground. She could feel the heat of his body through the thin layers of her clothing, scorching her skin. The smell of him, a musky scent of sweat and the pine body wash she had come to associate with him assaulted her nose and she breathed him in deep. She felt the want ratcheting up in the most delicious way and knew that she would no longer be content with a night of only being pressed against her apartment door. Their kisses, no matter how desperate they had been, wouldn’t be enough to sate the need she felt for him. She needed all of him, and she needed him as raw and unrestrained as he had been during that fight. He pressed a kiss to her cheek as her feet met the floor, and he stepped back.

“Sorry, I’m sweaty.”

“You were amazing.” Amazing didn’t quite cover it, but it was the only word she could think of that came anywhere close.

“Does that mean you’ll come out with me tonight? To celebrate?” She wanted to say yes immediately. But with him in front of her, covered in sweat and looking like the only thing she wanted her mouth to touch for the foreseeable future, Aelin shook her head as her bottom lip tucked between her teeth. The disappointment began to cloud his handsome face, but she shook her head faster as though it would dispel his negative thoughts.

“I was kind of hoping I could steal you away. Celebrate with you alone.” Her voice was low and sultry, and she almost laughed because she could see him calculating just what that meant. The two of them. A celebration. Entirely alone, with no one else around.

“I— yeah. Yes. We can— yes. I have to wrap up here and then we can go to my place?” At all of his stuttering, she couldn’t help the bright laughter that bubbled out of her as the usually confident man in front of her stumbled a bit. His attention was drawn away temporarily when Aedion clapped Rowan on the shoulder and began to spew his admiration and congratulations. Rowan took it with grace, thanking him for coming while trying to keep his eyes off Aelin’s face. The way she bit her lip clearly wasn’t helping because his eyes kept dropping down to her mouth.

When a member of his team told him he needed to hurry— he had a short press conference post-fight and still wanted to shower before— Rowan dropped a chaste kiss to her lips and headed back to the locker room.

Aelin waited not-so-patiently, standing on the outside of Rowan’s group of friends in the parking lot while they talked. Aedion fit right in, pointing out the highlights of the fight with renewed vigor. He still seemed to be riding the adrenaline high from watching Rowan fight , and Aelin was sure he would implement something of what they saw into her self defense training.

When Rowan finally came out, they all cheered and shoved him around their little circle in celebration. He was grinning from ear to ear as he reached for Aelin and pulled her into his side, dropping a kiss to her hair. It was impossible to stop the tug she felt in her stomach, something between excitement and nerves. Everything inside seemed to be tied up in delicious knots as she leaned into him, enveloped by the scent of his body wash, the smell of pine equal parts comforting and arousing. “Where are we going tonight?” Fenrys drawled, throwing his arm around Vaughan. The quiet, dark-haired man tried to shrug out of it, but it only ended with him in a headlock.

“I will actually be stealing him away,” Aelin said before Rowan could even get a word in. Rowan’s hold on her shoulder tightened as he squeezed, and she squeezed him back where she had her arm around his waist, secretly thrilled that he was as on board with this plan as she was. His friends groaned in protest but Aelin and Rowan laughed. Lorcan looked particularly displaced about the revelation and was the first to step backward out of the circle and bid farewell. It didn’t take long for the others to follow and for Aelin to lace her fingers through Rowan’s and tug him toward his car.

While their pace could be described as leisurely, Aelin felt anything but. Now alone, she felt that want from earlier return with a vengeance. Rowan squeezed her hand, and her mind immediately wandered to those strong hands touching elsewhere, all over. A quick glance up at him left her reeling when she caught his gaze on her, and swore she saw every dirty thought that crossed his mind. It excited her, knowing that despite his cool, calm exterior wrapped around all of that cockiness, Rowan Whitethorn was just as affected as she was by what was to come.

When they arrived at his car, a sleek, black sports car that was perfectly him, Rowan opened the passenger door for her, ushering her in. Aelin turned her head towards him, and under the parking lot lights, she could see where Rowan had taken a bit of a beating.

Ducking inside the car, Aelin turned to look at Rowan, her thumb coming to brush over a bruise that was forming on his cheek. It was already a blue-purple color, indicating that it would only look worse over the next few days. Luckily he hadn’t taken too many hits, so this seemed to be the worst of his injuries. There was one other place near his temple that had drawn a little bit of blood but it was already on the mend, cleaned by the medics backstage.

“I’m okay,” he reassured her, his hand coming over to rest on her thigh. Aelin pulled hers away, startled by the softness in his voice. Her eyes searched Rowan’s for the lie that he was more hurt than he let on, but she saw nothing. She supposed it should have comforted her that Rowan knew what his limits were, but still, it seemed crazy that this man before her was the same one that had attacked Cairn in the ring and ended the fight in the first round.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she said, her voice echoing the softness of his own.

“You just saw me get pummeled a few times and you’re worried about hurting me?” His voice dripped with disbelief, remnants of a laugh bubbling out. Aelin shrugged, cheeks stained a rosy blush.

“I don’t want to accidentally push on places that hurt.”

“I can assure you that anything you inflict upon me will be the sweetest kind of pain,” he promised, lacing his fingers with hers and bringing them to his mouth to press a kiss to her knuckles as he started the car and drove out of the dimly lit parking lot. Those knots in her stomach unspooled themselves into liquid heat as her bottom lip slipped between her teeth. “Don’t do that.”

His voice was rough with want, and it scraped over her, leaving small goosebumps on her skin. She shivered in anticipation, and ached to hear more in that deep, rumbling timbre. Reaching out a hand, she coyly ran her fingers slowly, softly up the taut skin of his arm. “Do what?”

“Bite your lip like that when I can’t kiss you.”

“If you drove faster, you would be able to kiss me,” Aelin teased, leaning over the center console to press a lingering kiss to his shoulder. Rowan’s knuckles turned white where he gripped the steering wheel, glancing over at her as the car rolled to a stop at a red light. Soaking up the opportunity they’d graciously been given by the gods, he deftly captured her chin and crushed his lips against hers, kissing her in a way that stoked the smoldering want inside her into an inferno. She felt the sinful slide of his tongue brushing against hers, of his teeth tugging over her bottom lip like he wanted to take a bite out of her. Aelin hoped that he would.

When he pulled away, Aelin’s eyes stayed closed, her lips stayed parted. A shaky breath tumbled from them, filling the tense silence in the car. It took everything in her to sit back in her seat and let him drive. If she were to do what she truly wanted to do, she would have him pull over and climb with him into the backseat, his apartment and privacy be damned.

Aelin wasn’t so sure that Rowan would stop her if she tried to coax him into it. How they had managed to go this long without tearing each other’s clothes off was a mystery to her. As she looked over at him, her eyes lingered on those strong hands gripping the steering wheel, hands that she wanted gripping her in the same way. She desperately wanted to have his fingerprints bruised into her thighs, to see the imprints of his teeth all over her chest. The idea of his back being covered with the marks of her nails only fed that growing fire within her.

The drive seemed to take an eternity, consisting of stolen kisses at stop signs and longing looks. It was hard to keep her hands to herself, and that seemed to be the case for Rowan, too. By the time they reached his apartment, his hand had drifted so high up her thigh that it was burning a hole straight through her jeans.

Rowan held her hand loosely while they walked inside the building and to the elevator. As soon as the metal doors slid shut, however, he was tugging her toward him and pressing her back against the wall. His hands slid from her hands to her waist, dropping down to her thighs to lift her up on the railing. Aelin couldn’t help the moan that she breathed into his mouth, her fingers twining into his hair while he tugged at her lip.

When the elevator dinged on his floor, Rowan was dragging hot kisses down her throat. It seemed to be too much for him because he had to take a moment before he pulled away. Rowan’s mouth stayed against her neck while he caught his breath causing goosebumps to rise all over her skin. The doors were beginning to close again when he finally pulled away and shoved his hand out to stop them.

Aelin laughed then, sliding down from the railing and tugging him down the hall toward his apartment. At the door Rowan fumbled with his keys, pressing kisses to the side of her neck as the lock tumbled and gained them entrance.

Any restraint he had left seemed to dissipate as soon as the door was shut and locked. Once again her feet left the floor as he carried her to his room and laid her down on his bed. Their kisses were hungry, starving as he lifted her shirt and tossed it onto the floor. His hands made quick work of the rest of her clothing, and before long they were just skin on skin, his mouth drifting lower and lower down her body.

All of it was pure ecstasy, almost too much for her to handle. It didn’t take long before she fractured beneath his mouth, her nails digging into his back, scratching desperately over his skin as he moved back up her torso to press his lips against hers.

When he pulled back to look at her, something had shifted. Gone were the frantic kisses, replaced by deeper ones that stole her breath from her lungs. An impossible feeling was tugging at her heart as their bodies moved together beneath the sheets. This time when she fell over the edge, Rowan went with her. Their bodies were so tangled it was hard for her to think clearly enough about where he started and she ended. Their gasping moans were a harmony she wouldn’t soon forget as he collapsed on top of her.

Aelin’s heel pushed down the strong muscles of his thigh, his calves, silently begging him not to move. His lips ignited sparks over her collarbones as he settled atop her while her fingers ran softly up and down his sides.

Eventually Rowan rolled off of her, and she would have frowned had he not tugged her into his side a heartbeat later. Aelin draped her leg over his waist and nuzzled her face against his chest, pressing a single kiss over his heart.

The last thing she remembered was the feeling of his hands in her hair and his low humming of a forgotten melody as she drifted off into a blissful sleep.

~*~

Soft kisses were being dropped over her bare back, leaving a trail up and down her spine. Aelin hummed in approval as a grin spread across her face. Her eyes were still closed, ignoring the rays of sunshine that were likely illuminating her face, when Rowan pressed a kiss to her cheek and the corner of her mouth.

“Good morning,” she said hoarsely, her lack of voice another reminder of everything that had transpired last night. She had woken Rowan a handful of hours after their first time, rolling on top of him and placing teasing kisses over his neck and chest until his calloused hands guided her into position. That time, Aelin had been control, her hands gripping the headboard through wave after wave of pleasure. There was an ache between her legs that made her want to beg Rowan to touch her despite how exhausted she was.

“Hi, baby.”

Aelin’s smile widened as she rolled onto his back and looped her arms loosely around his neck. Rowan kissed her properly then, long and slow until she was sure they were going to go for a third round in under twelve hours.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, fingers brushing her hair back from her face. Aelin wanted to snort in response, knowing last nights makeup was likely smeared around her eyes and she reeked of sex and sweat. But there was such reverence in his tone that she couldn’t bring herself to disagree, his green eyes bright in the morning sun as they traced over every feature of her face. “I still can’t believe you’re here.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Her hand moved from his neck to the side of his face, thumb brushing lightly over the bruise that marred his skin.

“You saw me fight. You watched me beat the hell out of someone and you didn’t turn and run. You didn’t balk. You still wanted me.”

Aelin was positive the confusion was written all over her face from the downturn of her lips to her furrowed brow, but still she said, “Has that been a problem before?”

“Yes.” Rowan pressed a series of kisses over her face starting at her temple and ending at her jaw.

“It’s not a problem for me,” she promised, voice barely a whisper against his cheek. Rowan was quiet for a moment, turning his face to look at her. “You’re a fighter. That’s what you are. I wouldn’t want you to be anything but what you are.”

A mix of emotions fluttered across his face, whatever he felt being a catalyst for kisses to her forehead, her cheeks, nose, and finally her lips. When he pulled back, he looked hesitant and unsure. It was the first time Aelin had ever seen him like that and it felt raw. Like he was exposing a part of himself he seldom did. She was ready to ask him what was going on when he kissed her so thoroughly she’d nearly forgotten the conversation at hand.

“What if I wanted to be something else?” Rowan gazed down at her, teeth grazing over his bottom lip. Again, she swore she saw uncertainty on his face and in his tone as the question rushed out in a single breath.

“Like what?”

“Like your boyfriend.”

She couldn’t help the joyful laughter that bubbled up and out like champagne. Rowan grinned too, so widely that his dimples were deep in his cheeks. Her thumbs ran over them as she kissed him, both of their smiles making it almost difficult. It was too cute, the way he’d seemed almost nervous and bashful in his delivery. It felt like high school all over again in the most innocent way.

“You can be that, too.”

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jeontaeil-archived · 3 years

Text

After Hours

Pairing: CEO!Yeonjun x Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut; Fem Receiving, Blowjob, Face Fucking, Choking, Dirty Talk, Unprotected Sex

Words: 2.19k+

Warnings: 18+ content

⋆ 8 o’clock. The time when all your colleagues bid each other farewell and expectantly head home for the weekend while you and Yeonjun lock the doors of his office to have some fun of your own⋆

It was a Friday. The last working day before the weekend began. Everyone’s eyes impatiently darted between their work and the clock. It was only a matter of seconds before it would be time to go home.

You too were anxious for the day to come to an end. The past few days had been incredibly demanding. Hours and hours of meetings along with late night business calls. Not to mention the fact that you were running on a cumulated 11 hours of sleep. Any more work and you were certain your brain would turn to mush.

Soon enough, but no doubt what had felt like ages of waiting, the clock struck 8. Everyone was up and out of their chairs within the blink of an eye, more than eager to return to the comfort of their homes after a deadeningly tiring week.

Grabbing your coat and bag you waited for everyone to enter the elevator, before walking in the opposite direction, round the corner, up the stairs and straight towards your boss’ office. Before you entered, you looked around to make sure no one had seen you.

Just as you were about to knock, the door swung open, revealing none other than your boss, Mr. Choi Yeonjun.

He wore a proud smirk, eyes raking over your figure authoritatively. He glanced at his watch and finally met your gaze. “You’re late. I thought I would’ve had to come down there to get you myself. You know how much I hate waiting," he spoke distastefully. You weren’t one to be fooled by his tone. It was common knowledge that if he wasn’t talking business, he was just being sarcastic. Still, it was in your best interest to play along. You knew how much he hated people who acted out of place.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

Yeonjun smirked, stepping aside to make way for you. “You may enter. But please be reminded that I won’t be so lenient next time.”

Once you were past the threshold of his door, he slammed it shut and pushed you against it, that same cunning smirk glued on his lips as he caged you between the door and his body. “I’m being serious,” he said, voice dangerously low. “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to get you in here. Feels like an eternity.” He delicately traced the outline of your face, intently watching the way you impulsively leaned into his touch.

“Tell me, are you as eager to see me?”

Dropping your bag and coat on the floor, you nodded, eyes following his own.

Yeonjun carefully let out a deep breath. He dragged his finger along your jaw and down your neck. You felt him gently caress your nape, skin warm against your own. He raised his head as he slowly wrapped his fingers around your throat. “Use your words darling.”

Lips pursed, you swallowed nervously. An impulsive reaction to the way he held you. “I am, sir.”

You felt small underneath his strong stare. He was so intimidating. Even though you knew he wasn’t going to hurt you, there was no way you were going to defy him. He was the one in charge and you would never challenge that.

Satisfied with your answer, he gently squeezed your throat and soon let go.

“I know you’d never lie to me. Still, I want to be certain. May I check to see if you’re being truthful?”

You didn’t know what he was playing at but you nodded nonetheless. “Yes sir. You may.”

Yeonjun smiled, glad that you’d given him the greenlight. His fingers raked up your thigh, pushing your skirt up along the way. He ran his hand over the inside of your thigh, sending a burst of warmth through your body. You felt like shutting your thighs together, but you knew better than to do so. His fingers ghosted over your panties, material undoubtedly soaked from all the time you’d spent anticipating this very moment. He could feel your wetness. He could sense your desire for him and his touch. But before he rewarded you for your candor, he wanted to see just how much you’d been aching for him. It was essential for him to assess how much you deserved to be pleased.

He pushed his hand into your panties, dipping his finger between your folds. He raised a brow as your arousal coated his finger, delighted with what he felt.

“It must’ve been hell. Sitting behind that computer for so long while thinking about all the things you want me to do to you. Isn’t that right?”

There was no error in his judgement, and he was very much aware of that. You had spent quite a few days waiting for this moment and you were mighty pleased that it was finally here.

Yeonjun removed his hand from your pantied and brought his glistening finger to your lips. “Open up, y/n. You’re in for a lot tonight.” He pushed his finger into your mouth, making sure you’d cleaned your arousal off of it before pulling it back out. He leaned closer to you, lips ghosting over your own as his fingers slowly unbuttoned your blouse.

You wanted to kiss him so bad even though you knew you couldn’t. You needed to be patient in order to get what you wanted. He pulled your blouse off your shoulders and undid your bra with a quick snap of his fingers. As soon as your breasts were free his hands were on them. He pinched your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, making you suck in a sharp breath. You rubbed your thighs together, dreading how slow he was taking things. Yeonjun chuckled darkly when he noticed this. “Do you need me to hurry up? Don’t worry, baby, I was just about to get to that.” He unzipped your skirt and pulled it down along with your panties, leaving you completely naked in front of him.

He kneeled before you, staring into your eyes as his mouth closed in on your pussy. A loud moan left your mouth almost immediately. Yeonjun hummed, sending a wave of intense vibrations through your core. “Keep your eyes on me," he instructed, returning to your heat. His lips wrapped around your clit, sucking on it harshly. Of course he would make it difficult for you. You fought to keep your eyes from rolling back. The pleasure was too strong for you to resist. Furrowing your brows, you urged yourself to hold his stare. You could clearly see how much he was enjoying your struggle.

His tongue ran between your folds and circled your clit. You swore if he kept it up you were going to cum any moment now. He had a tight grip on your hips, keeping them in place. His chin was already wet with your juices. Your lids started getting heavy as you felt a knot begin to form in your stomach. It was becoming harder and harder for you to focus on Yeonjun. “Ahh fuck, I’m gonna cum, sir.” You were practically screaming at this point. Yeonjun speedened the pace of his tongue. He was eating you out as if he’d been starved for days. With one final suck to your clit, you felt your orgasm hit. Wetness gushed down your walls and onto Yeonjun’s face. He groaned in satisfaction, shutting his eyes and greedily licking up all of your arousal. A string of curses left your mouth as he lapped up all your juices. All this waiting had definitely been worth it.

Yeonjun pulled away from your core and stood up, wiping his chin with a grin. “Such a pretty face but such a filthy mouth," he muttered, almost growling at your flushed expression. Heaving, you gasped as he pushed you down on your knees. He quickly undid his buckle and freed his cock from its restraints.

You’d seen Yeonjun’s manhood many times before. But its sheer size never failed to make your mouth go dry. His tip glistened with precum, a clear indication of how much he’d been holding himself back. He pumped his cock impatiently and pressed his tip to your lips. “I don’t think I need to tell you what to do. Open up. I’m not done with you yet.” He shoved his cock into your mouth, groaning as you ran your tongue over his length. He was certainly a mouthful. You could barely fit all of him in your mouth. Yeonjun knew this but he didn’t care. If you were going to take his cock then you’d have to take all of it.

He then pulled out entirely, spat on his palm, and slicked his cock up before pushing it back into your mouth. He also grabbed your head and pulled it further over his length. “Fuck you look so hot with my cock stuffed in your mouth.” He grunted, bucking his hips into your mouth. The sudden action made you gag. Yeonjun groaned as your throat convulsed around his tip. “If you want me to fuck you then you’ve gotta take me properly. Don’t act like you’re doing this for the first time," he reminded, continuing to ram his hips into your face. Your jaw went slack with how forceful he was being. Yeonjun was always rough, but for some reason you could never get used to it. He literally used you like a cum doll, not that you minded or anything.

Tears welled in your eyes as he ruthlessly fucked your mouth. He was chasing his high. With the pace he’d set you were sure he wasn’t too far from it. Before you knew it his cock twitched in your mouth and soon enough, hot ropes of his cum shot down your throat. Yeonjun’s hips stilled as he emptied his seed into you. He finally pulled out of you and brought you to your feet again.

A bit of his cum had dribbled onto your chin, which he pushed back into your mouth. “Make sure you swallow it all babe. Don’t let a single drop go to waste.”

You did as he said, shuddering at the salty taste. He brought you over to his desk, bending you over the edge. He leaned down to your ear, eagerly rubbing your ass. “I hope you can still go for another round. I’m still not done with you darling.” He rubbed his tip against your folds. You were surprised by how quickly he’d hardened up again. It seemed you weren’t the only one who’d been counting down the days till this night. “Are you ready?” he asked, tip pushing into your walls. “Yes, sir," you answered, looking behind your back. You gasped as he entered you, giving your walls a delicious stretch. “So tight for me," he said, fingers digging into the skin of your ass. Once he’d bottomed out and given you enough time to adjust, he began hammering his hips into you. Thank god it was just the two of you. The sounds of skin slapping against each other and your loud moans filled the room. “Holy shit, sir, you fuck me so well.”

Yeonjun snickered at your words and pulled your back up to his chest, wrapping his hand around your neck. He choked you, effectively muffling your moans. “I know I do. Don’t you just love it when I make you cry with my cock?” His thrusts were nice and strong, indeed making you cry out in absolute pleasure. This was extremely worth it. You’d never felt as good as you felt right now. Yeonjun could say the same for himself. He loved the way your walls wrapped around his length, so warm and tight. Your desperate moans were practically music to his ears. He could hear you screaming for hours, especially if it was because of his cock.

It didn’t take long for you to feel your second orgasm build up. The faster he fucked you, the quicker he pushed you to your high. Yeonjun felt your walls clench around his cock. “You aren’t cumming yet," he grunted, never stilling his pace. You groaned and willed yourself to go on a bit longer. “Just a little longer. I know you can wait a bit.”

You weren’t too sure about that. He was racing to reach his own orgasm. His efforts were making it far too difficult for you to do as he’d instructed. “I can’t hold it in any longer, sir. I’m going to cum.”

Just as your orgasm hit, Yeonjun pulled you back onto his cock, groaning loudly. He’d caught up with you successfully. He slowly pushed his hips into you, helping you ride out your high as well as his own. Your heart hammered in your chest as you came down from your climax. It was perfect.

Yeonjun pulled out of you and went to retrieve your clothes for you. “I hope you enjoyed yourself," he said as you dressed yourselves. “I did sir. I always do," you shared with a shy smile. It was always a bit awkward between you both once your rendezvous had ended.

“Good. I’ll see you next week then?”

“As always sir.”

#yeonjun smut #txt smut #kpop smut #yeonjun scenarios #yeonjun imagines #yeonjun x reader #txt scenarios #txt imagines #txt x reader #hoehousenet

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ereawrites · 4 years

Text

Dick Grayson x Reader - Mania

this was requested by: anon

word count: 10.5k / rating explicit

a/n: sex pollen so auto dubcon (?), but both reader and dick are affected so idk

taglist: @daddyissuesmademe @idkmanicantenglish

It's your fault, really. You should never have got involved in the first place, but the temptation was just too great to resist. How could you pass up the opportunity to investigate Poison Ivy's pollen? This was the first decent sample any of you had ever managed to get - even Bruce, though you suspect there have been a few times he's managed to get up close and personal with the pollen - and normally Tim would handle it, but he's away on business with Bruce, and Damian's too young to deal with intensive research, and Jason just can't bring himself to care. So, that left Dick, and you could've left it at that. You should have. Then again, Tim did text you to recommend that you helped Dick: actually, you would never have left your room if it hadn't been for his intervention. It's Tim's fault.

The thing is, everything was fine at first; you've, perhaps, been harbouring the slightest crush on Dick for a while now, and it's always nice to spend time with him. He's fun to be around, even if his classic charm sometimes borders on teasing flirtation, and he's got such an incredible mind. You forget that, at times - he has a bad habit of putting himself down as the 'kind one' of the family, the emotional support or the comic relief, and he forgets to let himself be brilliant, too. He doesn't realise you've noticed that. Or maybe he does, but he doesn't say anything, and you've happily spent the past two hours studying Ivy's pollen together.

"It's definitely pheromonal, but I've never seen a chemical composition like this before-", you say, eyes glued to the computer screen. Dick is leaning over the back of your chair, one hand on your shoulder and one hand on the desk beside you, and you shouldn't feel as tense as you do. "-look, this section doesn't occur naturally in any species we've seen. She's synthesising these pheromones somehow, it's not like she's injecting them, but I just - I don't get how."

He pushes off from the desk, grabs the back of your chair, and spins you to face him with a half-smile. "I hate to break your train of thought, but I think we need a biochem specialist.", he says, and you suddenly notice how tired he looks: his eyes are still vibrant, warm, but exhausted. "We've done as much as we can on this, right? No shame in calling in the big guns."

"Tim?", you reply, knowingly, relishing in the way Dick's smile grows into a full grin. He's still gripping the edges of your chair, effectively caging you in: you are not looking at his arms, and you can be certain of this because you are looking very, very intently at his face.

"Having a genius brother has its perks, I know. I'll call him now. It's late in Tokyo - he won't be in a meeting, he'll probably just be awake in his hotel room, tapping away at his laptop.", Dick says, finally moving away to fetch his phone, and his voice trails off into a mumble that he clearly doesn't mean for you to hear. "God, he worries me. He really does."

It's much too warm in here: you sigh, and shrug off your jacket, slinging it over the back of the computer chair before calling out,"You're such a mother hen sometimes, Dick."

"I care. Sue me.", he replies with a faux scowl. "You don't complain when you're ill and I bring you hot soup."

"You're a good cook, what can I say?"

"Husband material!", he chirps. You feel your stomach leap and your cheeks heat up at his words. He's only teasing, but the truth of it is, it has more effect on you than you would like to admit. Thankfully, he's quickly distracted by the crackle of Tim picking up the phone. "Timmy! How's things?"

Tim's voice is dry, as always, but with a noticeable undercurrent of frustration. "Shit. I hate it here."

"Hey, Tim. Bad day?", you say with sympathy. You feel a little bad for bothering him, now; as hard as everyone in the family works, Tim definitely pushes himself the hardest.

"I'm the youngest person here by at least twenty years, and my stomach can't handle sushi. Plus, Bruce gets separation anxiety from the rest of you. The one upside is that I've been able to practice my Japanese.", Tim replies. You feel bad for him, of course, but the image of him having to comfort a homesick Bruce has you suppressing a snicker.

Dick shoots an amused smile at you - he's too beautiful when he smiles, it isn't fair - that starkly contrasts the comforting tone he uses to respond to Tim. "Don't worry, darling brother - I've got something exciting for you! Check your emails - wait, only the most recent one, though, I sent you a link to a Red Hood fanpage-"

You interject with an accusatory wave of your finger. "Why the fuck didn't you send me that? Red Hood is sexy." If Jason were here, he would probably threaten to shoot you, but as it is, Dick's amusement only grows. His smile is so infectious, like it spirals out into the air and right into your chest, and you can't help but smile back at him. You don't know if it's the warmth of the room or simply from Dick himself, but you feel as though you're going to need to step outside for some fresh air soon.

"Because of your raging crush on Nightwing, probably." Tim cuts in, and you could fucking kill him. Dick gives you a pleased wink. "I'm looking at a pheromonal compound, right? Ivy's special formula?"

You muster as much venom into your voice as you can, without pissing Tim off so much that he leaves you to deal with this on your own. "Fuck you, Tim - and yeah. It's a newer version, though - I think she's evolving, if that makes sense? Her physiology is definitely changing." Tim gives a thoughtful hum in response to your words: you imagine it's in agreement.

Dick continues your train of thought. "We think she's working with someone else, or she's been experimenting on herself, maybe. Do you have any ideas about how she's making the new chemicals?"

"I'll need a few hours. Send me all the data over. You're right about it evolving, though - it's definitely airborne. Shit, this is actually really interesting - the molecules are more compact, smaller, so she doesn't need to rely on physical touch through her plants anymore-"

The rest of Tim's words are lost to a wave of horror. Airborne, he said - you'd doubt it if it wasn't for the similar shock that's written over Dick's face - and you have not been treating this sample as airborne. Ivy has always relied on physical, tangible contact to use her chemicals: you couldn't have known, there was no way you could've known, neither of you are experts on this kind of thing - you've fucked up.

"Airborne? How... airborne are we talking? Like, don't-sniff-the-test-tube?", Dick asks, cautiously, maintaining eye contact with you all the while. *Please, God, let it be don't-sniff-the-test-tube and nothing more than that. Please.*

"Shit, you haven't been wearing respirators - have you?". Tim sounds positively horrified. It does nothing to allay your fears, the worries that you've both been infected with Ivy's pollen; in fact, he all but confirms it. Everything is beginning to fall into place now. The tension around Dick - more so than usual, at least -, how warm you're feeling, the mental sluggishness that had you calling Tim in the first place.

You're angry at yourself, for your own stupidity - not Tim, but you're panicked, you're so unbelievably freaked out, and so you can't help but snap at the phone. "How were we meant to know, man? Ivy's never even hinted at having something of this level before!"

"You're working with chemicals, unknown chemicals, I hate-"

Dick cuts in before this can turn into a full-on confrontation. You've got no idea how he's managing to keep a level head. Perhaps the pheromones are already taking a more severe effect, or maybe it's a placebo effect, and you pray that it is, but you can already feel your heart beginning to pound against the confines of your chest. "It's just pheromones, right? We know it's not toxic, at least - Ivy's victims only take a few days to come around, at most. They're just kinda fucked up for a few days."

You admire Dick so, so much. He's right, he's always right, he always manages to keep you calm and make you feel safe: you'll just have to stay with him, and you'll be okay. If you stay here, he can comfort you, and maybe the impacts of the pollen won't even be that bad. And, if they are, well, there's no one else in the manor tonight, and Dick's so handsome and kind and strong, and maybe he'll - fuck.

Tim snickers. "Fucked, indeed. Only when Ivy's in a good mood, though. You guys better get ready for a tough night. I've heard it can get really bad, especially if you're deprived of - oh, fuck, I can't talk about this, this is too funny but it's so weird, oh my god-", and he dissolves into a fit of awkward, stunted laughter. Dick fixes you with an apologetic look, but you swear his golden cheeks are tinged with red.

"How long until it kicks in?", he asks. It's a stupid, stupid question, because you feel like you're close to dying already. You know what he means, though: when will it get bad? You've seen Ivy's victims before. They're entirely without dignity, practically begging to be touched, sobbing from the pain of it all - and you've only heard rumours about the depraved things they let Ivy do to them. What they ask her to do to them.

The huff of Tim's breath crackles through the phone. "Uh - I don't know, maybe an hour? A little less, since Bruce never opens the windows in there. Just seal the sample up, drink plenty of water, and try not to freak out. It'll pass. You won't die."

///

You thought you could do it - stay in your room, deal with this alone, avoid any potential awkwardness with Dick -but you can't. It's barely been an hour. Sixty-seven minutes since you left the cave, to be exact. Sixty-seven minutes since Dick grabbed you by the waist to halt your speedy departure, touch light but insistent, and said if you need anything, come to me. His eyes were dark when he said it. Deep, dark blue, an ocean that you could get lost swimming in; but pupils already dilating, breath already speeding up. He meant it as nothing more than a kindness. Still, though, that hasn't been enough to stop you from coming onto your fingers with the image of those eyes burned onto the backs of your eyelids.

Ivy's pollen is designed to induce lust, yes, but only for the first person you see after you're infected with it. This means two things: firstly, that you need Dick more than anything right now. Your head is pounding, your lungs feel like they're on fire - the sensation between your legs isn't aching, it's agony, and you've spent fifty-two of the past sixty-seven minutes trying, and failing, to fool your body into believing that your fingers are his. The first thing you know, is that you need him, because you saw him right after you were infected. The second thing you know - there was no one else in that room. You were the only person Dick could have seen.

So, stupidly, you seek him out. You go back down to the cave, without even taking the time to wash your hands, because that's what your body is telling you to do, and you're acting more and more on instinct. Potential awkwardness be damned. He'll fix this.

Dick's facing away from you, reclined in the computer chair: his posture seems almost relaxed, just almost, legs sprawled out and left elbow visibly sticking out from around the back of the chair, like he's got one hand close to his head. You'd assume he was still looking at the computer, if you weren't so hyperaware of everything right now, but you are, and you notice more. From what you can see of his body - it's low-blue-lit from the computer screen, enough that you can make out the muscle of his legs through his sweatpants if you squint, but it's not enough, you need to see more - he seems tense. Too tense. Normally, you'd sneak closer, but your head is practically spinning now and Dick will help you. He'll make this better. Your voice is hoarse and dry when you manage to call his name.

He immediately jolts in his seat, spinning to face you, and now that he's backlit by the computer, you can barely see more than the outline of his body. God, he looks so lean, so tall - "Are you okay?", he asks, and he sounds almost as bad as you feel. You swallow thickly before responding - and, through the fog in your head, you realise that your jacket is clutched in his left hand.

You, miraculously, manage a weak smile. "I just - I thought maybe it would, you know, be better to... be together, during this. In case - if one of us needs help, or something. I don't know.". You sound stupid. Dumb. You feel it, too, and you can't even bring yourself to care. The mere sight of him is helping: it doesn't remove the pain, or any of the physical sensations, really, but at least the panic of not being near him is being soothed.

"That's - yeah, okay. How are you feeling?", Dick replies. His voice is barely more than a whisper, but you hear it as clear as if he were right up against you. Chest pressed to your back, lips on the curve of your jaw, that voice going right through you and into the pits of your stomach.

It's wrong, to think of him like this, when all he's doing is trying to check that you're alright. He knows you aren't, but he's trying.

The best thing you can think to do is make a weak attempt at a joke. "I've got a newfound fear of Ivy." Dick even huffs out a laugh, but it's just as half-hearted as your words. "I didn't think it was going to be this bad at first, Jesus - but it keeps getting worse, and, it just-"

"-it hurts. I know.". Dick nods. As you take a step closer to him, you realise that your eyes have finally adjusted to the relative darkness of the cave, and you realise that you can see his cock straining against his sweatpants. He's hard. What's more, there's a distinct wet patch leaking through the material.

When you entered the cave, you couldn't see one of his hands; the chair wasn't moving enough for him to be stroking himself, and you're not sure whether you're glad he wasn't, but now that you think of it, there was definite movement. Like he was palming himself through his sweatpants, maybe. And the hand that was close to his head, it's clutching your jacket, he was holding your jacket close to his face while he-

"Dick - were you...?"

He sighs, halfway between embarrassed and resigned, and sinks back down into the computer chair. He keeps your jacket clenched in a white-knuckle grip. "I had to take the edge off somehow, right? I'm sorry, I didn't think you would be coming back down here, I never meant to make you uncomfortable or anything-"

"I'm not uncomfortable.", you blurt out before you know what you're saying. Dick's expression visibly shifts - you don't have the mental clarity to figure out into what, exactly - but you can feel your own eyes widen as you process the implications of what you just said. "Oh, fuck - I didn't mean it like that, I - sorry."

Dick just shakes his head. He must mean for you not to worry. You stand in silence for a while, not exactly awkward but certainly thick with tension, before he pats a hand onto the desk beside him. "God, this is worse than I thought. Do you wanna come sit down?"

Do you? Although being closer to Dick sounds like the only thing you want in the world right now - god, you can't help but think about how good he would look, if you were close enough to really study him, now that you're beyond giving a fuck about etiquette - you're also acutely aware of how difficult it'll be to control yourself. Undeniably, you want him. You've wanted him for months, really - but the pollen has taken that desire and multiplied it tenfold, made it so that it's all-consuming and painful. In your room, nothing more than imagining him, it was bad enough. Now, now that you can see his fucking cock, now that the image of him rubbing himself with a blissed-out look on his face, it's almost impossible to control.

You move to sit next to him. You can't help yourself. Once you start moving, you feel like it's all in slow-motion: Dick's watching you, dark eyes trained so closely on your form, and you're wearing nothing more than a tight-fitting pair of leggings and a thin t-shirt. After what feels like an age - too long to be apart from him - you reach the desk, and upon clumsily perching yourself on it, you see Dick looking as though he's about to pass out.

"Fuck, did I - did I do something wrong? I'm sorry-", you say hastily, but he instantly shakes his head and trains his eyes on yours. The blue is nearly gone. It's all blown-out pupils now, so much that his eyes are nearly black.

He licks his lips as if to wet them. "-no, no, but - when you were in your room - when you were alone - did you do anything to take the edge off? Did you touch yourself?"

You could say no, if you wanted to. You could lie. He would know, but he wouldn't press it, and you could save yourself the shame. For all that Dick must be struggling just as much as you are, he's exceedingly kind, so much that no amount of fucked-up drugs could change that: he's still your Dick, underneath all of this.

"Yeah.", you admit after a heartbeat, and your stomach lurches when you see his cock twitch through the sweatpants. Still, you're embarrassed, and you feel the need to explain yourself just a little. "It felt like my skin was on fire unless I did. It still feels like that, though - like it just wasn't enough, I guess."

"I can smell it on you.", Dick says lowly. Oh, God. That's hot. That's so, unbelievably hot - especially when you see his cock twitch again - but absolutely mortifying. You're torn between wanting to jump on him, right here and now, and retreating back to your room. You compromise by burying your face in your hands, and letting out a pathetic whine to signal how fucked-up you are right now. Maybe you can calm down, now that you don't feel on the verge of a panic attack from being away from him, if you take a few deep breaths.

Naturally, Dick hardly gives you the chance. You feel his hand come to rest on your knee out of nowhere; it's a gentle touch, but you can feel him trembling, and the touch sends a bolt of electricity through you that's strong enough to make you jolt. "I want to help you. The whole point of these pheromones is to make it so that you need touch - it only hurts because we're not getting that. So, I can-", he says raspily, punctuating the pause with a reassuring squeeze to your lower thigh, "-touch you, just... platonically, if that's what you want. What you need."

His voice drops down an octave with the last sentence - you whine again, involuntarily, but you just about manage to turn the sound into words.

"Dick, you don't have to - we can just push through this, I know it'll be uncomfortable for you - I mean, I know it's not like we haven't hugged and stuff before, but this is different, I don't want you to feel forced because you feel bad for me."

Dick must lean forward, closer to you, because his palm slides further up your thigh. The pain that prickles insistently under your skin is beginning to turn into fiery heat: not unpleasant, but desperate, hot, and you're starting to feel like you're not going to be able to stop if he asks you to touch him. "I don't feel bad for you.", he insists, reaching up with his free hand to peel your hands away from your eyes. He curls his fingers around yours as he continues. "I just want to make you feel better - both of us feel better. See, it's already helping, right? Just relax. This is bad enough as it is."

His thumb starts to trace circles on the inside of your thigh. It's nowhere near high enough to be considered sexual, but the movement has your legs almost trembling. You wonder if he can feel the tension of your muscles. "It's... it doesn't hurt anymore. Thank you.". And, technically, you're not lying: it doesn't hurt, in fact it feels fucking incredible. You spent fifty-two minutes trying to replicate this sensation. He's only touching your thigh, it has no business feeling this good, but each little beat of his thumb has waves of pleasure crashing through you. God, how good would it feel to fuck him like this? You're shaking, and you know it, and it only makes him tug you by the hand to stand up.

Even the loss of his touch on your thigh feels devastating, but Dick's next words are more comfort than you could have imagined possible. "Here. Come sit, if you want.", he says - whispering again, voice so low and so deep, but it's just the effects of the pollen, you tell yourself - and gestures to his thigh. "You can lean back into me, don't worry, it'll be better for your back."

This has to feel as good for him as it does for you. Logically, it has to. You've both breathed in the same pollen, his skin has the same sheen of sweat that you can feel on your own skin, you're both trembling in every part of your body, and he's still rock hard. You can feel yourself leaking, god, enough that it might have dampened your leggings and left a wet spot on the desk. What would Dick do, if he saw that? He's clearly turned on, but maybe he still has the good sense to avoid fucking: maybe his view of you as 'just platonic' is so deeply ingrained, he would never touch you down there to feel how wet he's made you. Or, maybe he wants you like you want him.

"Are - are you sure?", you stammer. You can't stop looking at his lap. His cock, painfully obvious (and he mustn't care, because he blatantly drew your attention to it), and the corded muscle of his thighs, spread out straight to form you a perch.

"Mhmm...", he hums from somewhere deep in his chest, and suddenly you're grateful that he's still holding your hand, because the sound almost makes your knees buckle. He tugs gently. "Only if you want to be close to me, though."

He says that like an afterthought - like he knows exactly what you want, and like he's hungry for your touch and doesn't want to consider the idea that you don't want to give him it. You can't bring yourself to look at him before you move to sit in his lap, because you know he'll see the desire, and for now, you're still pretending that you don't want to push him down in that chair and ride him for hours. He'd like that, you think. He'd like it if you pulled his hair while you did it.

Dick lets go of your hand so he can take your waist in both hands, guiding you down onto his lap and gripping harder when your ass inadvertently brushes over his cock. You don't mean to do it, of course, and you jump like you've been shocked: you shuffle further down his thigh to avoid another mishap, but the movement causes your pussy to just barely drag against the hard muscle - you hardly manage to control your moan, forced to sink your teeth into your lip. Thankfully, Dick doesn't seem to notice, and he helps you lean back so his chest is pressed to your back, before lifting his arms to rest on the armrests. From here, he begins to rub soothing lines up and down your arms, and he tips his cheek down to rest against your shoulder with a relieved sigh.

"Fuck, that... yeah, that feels better.", you practically gasp. Feeling him pressed up against the entire length of your body, as torturous as it is, is the most relief you've gained all evening; his legs are shaking just enough that you can feel it in your core, though, and you're forced to tilt your head back to rest on his shoulder. You'll lose your fucking mind if you don't start to relax, he's right.

With your neck exposed, though, you can feel Dick's hot breath tickling your skin when he speaks. "Good, right? It feels good?". For the first time, you really hear the tension in his voice. So much so that you can't pass it off as your own projections, or a trick of his tone - he's just as desperate as you are, holy shit, he sounds halfway to begging, he sounds like he's dying to know that his touch is making you feel good. Your hips twitch of their own accord.

"Yeah... Dick?", you whisper after a few moments. He nods in response against your shoulder, a slow, dragging movement that feels like honey dripping through your veins from the point of contact. "Are you really warm, too, or like - is that just me? I - I feel like I'm burning up... Do you mind if I..." - you trail off, instead opting to tug cautiously at the hem of your shirt.

He sucks in a deep, rapid breath that you feel press against your back. For a moment, you worry that you've gone too far - it feels so good, but it's too weird, too strange for him even now - but then he slowly curls his fingers around the hem, replacing your own hands, and starts to pull upwards at a torturous pace. His knuckles drag over your lower abdomen for just a second and your hips twitch again, and he definitely felt it this time but he says nothing, and his breathing is warm and fast against the skin of your neck; with the shirt discarded, you're left in nothing more than a thin bra. Although the room feels warm, furnace-hot, you're all too aware of the blatant hardness of your nipples, and you tell yourself it's okay, he won't notice, because you're facing away and he won't - his palm drags against your breast on the way back down and it feels so good, too good, and you can't help but whimper, "Fuck, yes-"

Three things happen in quick succession. Dick freezes, you realise what you've done and move to jump up and run for the hills, and then Dick grabs your hips and pulls you back into him, right over his cock, this time. The friction makes both of you let out a breathy sigh, but where you clap a hand over your mouth, Dick follows it up with a hoarse proposition. "I can touch you properly, if you want. It'll make all this go away, I promise - do you want me to?", he rasps, pressing one, quick kiss to the skin where your neck meets your shoulder. "Do you want me to touch you?"

His grasp on your hips is tight, wanting, but gentle enough that you know he wouldn't stop you if you tried to leave again. When you make no move to do so - you're frozen, you can't believe he's just offered to do what your body is screaming for - Dick pulls at your hips, slowly, dragging your ass over his cock and then pushing you back down. He repeats the motion a few times, rolling his own hips up into you a little more with each motion, and soon your muscles start to work so you can grind down onto him. Dick rewards you with a quiet moan - oh, you want him to do that again, you're going to make him do that again, louder and louder - and then, with a touch so light you could cry, he traces one hand over your hipbones and down to your pussy.

One finger traces your slit through your leggings, and you hear yourself moan, but you're hardly aware of making the noise - just this simple touch feels almost as good as the orgasm you had earlier, even just this feather-light pressure through two layers of fabric, and every nerve ending in your body sets alight at once. This is what you needed, more than anything, for Dick to touch you and drag you down onto his cock, and you're so overwhelmed that every muscle in your body goes lax, leaving you to collapse into his chest.

Dick rubs gently at your pussy a few more times, like he's exploring you, and then suddenly he taps right where your clit is. You cry out, and he sighs against your neck. "God, I can feel how wet you are already. You should have told me, I would've done something sooner, you know that - fuck, you're so wet, let me - let me finger you, huh? Please?"

"Yeah - please, Dick.", you whine, and when you say his name, he moans and shoves his cock up against you again. He mumbles something into your skin that you don't quite make out, and then his hand is fumbling with your waistband, clumsily slipping into your underwear and then he's there, his fingers are brushing right against your clit, you sob out a broken cry - you're so wet that his fingers brush right through your folds, gliding like silk, and by the time he reaches your hole, two fingers easily sink in right to the knuckle.

Your pussy instantly clenches down, hard, and you feel more full than you thought could be possible. Dick moans into the skin of your neck and gives you a moment to calm down, to soothe the desperate jolting of your hips, before he starts to pump his fingers; slowly, at first, but soon picking up into a faster and more urgent pace. With each movement, he scissors his fingers a little, spreading you wider every time, and he starts to mouth at your neck with hot, wet kisses. "Do you like that, yeah? Am I making you feel good? Is this what you need?"

You fling an arm behind you to grasp at his hair, and when you tug after a particularly delicious curl of his fingers, he bites down hard onto your shoulder. "Fuck, yes, yes - please don't stop, please, Dick, don't stop-"

"I'm not going to stop, don't worry, I've got you - I'm here, I'm not gonna stop, you sound too pretty for me to stop, fuck - I knew you would sound pretty, keep making those noises for me."

Your body feels like it's going through the most intense orgasm of your life, especially now that he's given up on pumping his fingers in favour of curling them in rapid beats against your g-spot, but you know that you're not even coming yet: you're close, though, judging by the way the room is spinning around you, and the pressure building in the pit of your stomach - "I think I'm close, Dick, - oh, oh, oh my god, I don't - it's never felt like this before, I don't - fuck-"

"I know, I know, baby-", he croons, and the pet name has you tugging at his hair again, the other hand white-knuckled on the armrest, "-it's okay, it's gonna feel different - it's gonna feel better, I promise, it's going to be so good, I'm going to get you there, baby, come on."

"Fuck - fucking - Jesus, Dick, keep going, just like that-!", you all but shout, and Dick continues the massaging movement right up on your g-spot: the positioning of his hand means the heel of his palm is dragging over your clit, and your hips are frantically grinding up into his hand - god, you're gonna come, the world feels like it's crashing down around you, you feel the contractions start a few seconds before it actually hits you and it's going to be earth-shattering, you know it, every muscle in your body tenses up and through it all you hear Dick whispering, come on, that's it, I've got you, come on, come on, and then you're coming-

Distantly, you can feel his fingers continue their movements inside of you, unrelenting - and the other hand keeps a firm grip on your hips, grounding you onto his lap - but other than that, all you know is the white-flash across your vision and the pleasure slamming into each nerve in your body, one by one and then all at once: this is better than anything you've ever felt, better than every orgasm put together, and it feels feels for a moment like you're actually going to black out from the sheer intensity of the pleasure.

Then, suddenly, you're back in reality. Dick is heaving for breath against your shoulder, but it's nothing compared to the way your own lungs are screaming for air - god, you think you were screaming, given the scratching sensation in your throat - and his fingers are back to a slow, steady pumping, in and out of your swollen pussy. It hurts, a little, but this one orgasm has done nothing to sate your desperate hunger: in fact, it's only made it worse, only increased your desire for him, and you swear his cock is impossibly harder against your ass now.

"You - you're dripping onto my hand, baby, oh my god...", Dick pants, and there's a heartbeat where neither of you move - then, you feel his breath hitch, and suddenly his other hand is shoving unceremoniously under your waistband and going straight for your clit. He picks up the pace with the two fingers still inside you, matching each curl with a flick over your clit, and the motions are all so frenzied, those of a man possessed with some ravenous desire, like his one purpose is to have you writhing in his lap, and you give a wordless cry - too overcome with blinding pleasure to actually make a sound - that allows you to hear his ragged words. "Please, give me another one, one more - I want to make you squirt this time, it's going to be so good, I promise, just give me one more, pretty girl-"

This time, it's not just one wave of pleasure, spreading from your core and emanating outwards; no, it's wave after wave after wave, violently crashing over you and completely overcoming every part of your body, unrelenting and constant - this one lasts at least twice as long as the last, but you're hardly in the right state of mind to keep track of time, and every wave of pleasure that rushes through you is tenfold stronger than the last. You hear yourself shriek his name in the most pathetic, broken tone, and Dick cages you in against his body as best as he can as he keeps both hands working at your pussy, and you realise you're sobbing when he finally, finally stops.

When his fingers slip out of your pussy and exit your leggings, they're dripping wet. Dick audibly gasps, and then he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks, moaning around the digits, and through hazy eyes you can see the most fucked-out look on his face just at the taste of your cum. He licks his fingers clean - you feel your pussy clench down again at the sight - before opening his eyes, fixing you with an intense stare, and panting, "You taste so fucking good - baby, I'm not going to be able to stop, I'm sorry, I need this, I need to fuck you - please."

He's asking permission, you realise. Neither of you are in control of what you're doing anymore, and he's still asking, as best as he can, if he's allowed to fuck you. There's a terrified look in his eyes, behind the frenzy and the lust - you clumsily crash your lips against his. He tastes of your juices, but it's one of the hottest things you've ever experienced, and he moans openly into your mouth, eagerly meeting your tongue with his own. You're exhausted, but kissing him renews your energy tenfold. You're suddenly overcome with the urge to feel his cock - inside you, yes, but you want to see it first, you want to make him cry out and moan and gasp for you - so you manoeuvre in his lap, keeping your mouth against his, to straddle his narrow hips and face him.

"Ah - ah, god, that feels amazing.", Dick moans, broken up between sloppy kisses, saliva starting to drip down both of your chins - but it's hot, so hot - as you frantically reach down to palm at him. The instant you finally touch his cock, you're gone: there's no stopping now that you can feel how achingly hard he is, now that you feel how he twitches under your hand each time you kiss him, and it takes much longer than you would like to undo the drawstring of his sweatpants, pull them down, and wrap your hand around the exposed length of him. He hisses as his whole body jerks.

Instantly, you set a frenzied pace of stroking him, relishing in each ragged moan that you rip from his throat; he's leaking into your palm, you realise, dripping over your fingers as you pull him back by the hair and attach your lips to his neck. When you suck a bruise into the softest part of his skin - the salty-sweat-tangy hollow beneath his Adam's apple - he shouts out your name, loud, followed by, "-fuck, fu- let me fuck you, baby, please, I - I'm close, you have to stop-"

"Come on my hand, Dickie.", you plead, and you're granted a thick spurt of precum when you lick a stripe up the column of his throat: he tastes so good, his skin so hot under your mouth, you can't stop, and you croon right into his ear, "It's - it's gonna last for hours, still, you're still gonna be hard - I'm still so needy for you, Dickie, look - come on my hand, let me see it, please. You can fuck me after, just come for me where I can watch it, oh - oh, please." His moans start to pick up in volume and frequency, coming from a place deeper in his throat. He's close, you know.

You've started to grind onto his thigh somewhere along the way. It feels amazing, it feels even better because you know he's twitching and aching for you just inches away - once you finally drag yourself out of the crook of his neck, you see that you've left a damp streak on his sweatpants in the wake of your hips, and the steady stream of precum leaking from his cock has soaked the material higher up. "Come on, Dickie, come on, let me see you come, I wanna see it, I - I'll, fuck, I'll lick it clean after, Jesus-", you blurt out, too far gone to be horrified at the ease with which the words spill from your lips.

"Oh, baby, shit-” he cries, and then his voice dissolves into a broken jumble of incoherent mumbles and whines. His cock twitches hard in your palm, once, twice, three times against the rapid pace you maintain on him, and then Dick bucks his hips up into your hand, back arched, perfectly still and tense; he comes hard, almost whimpering, head thrown back and eyes tightly shut, looking so, so perfect as you stroke him through it and grind feverishly onto his thigh. It's the image of his cock that has the breath snatched from your chest, though. Several thick ropes of cum spurt from him as you work him through it, some hitting the skin of your abdomen and some dripping down the length, and it just keeps going, no sign of stopping until Dick completely collapses, after almost a minute of moaning and coming - your hand is drenched with him.

The sight of his cum dripping from your palm makes something in your stomach clench hard, painfully, and suddenly you need to taste him, you have to, it hurts so much and it'll go away as soon as you get your mouth on him. You scramble off the chair, almost falling to your knees in front of him - he rushes to steady you, even with weak and shaky arms - but you don't care about how graceful you look right now. As soon as you manage to nestle yourself between thighs, you lick flat up the underside of his cock. The taste of it makes your eyes roll back in your head. Dick spits, "Holy shit!", and it trails off into a deep gasp as you wrap your lips around him and sink down as far as you can go. You'd take your time, usually, but everything in your body is screaming for you to taste him, let him fill you, and you're in no position for argument.

With each dip of your head - punctuated with a moan from the man above you, each one becoming closer to a growl, animalistic, and you think the pollen is beginning to send your bodies into total overdrive now - you take him as deeply as you can. You're nearly gagging, but that's what you need. His hands tangle into your hair; at first, you can tell he's trying to be as gentle as he can, but that's soon overcome with a tight, guiding grip that pushes you further down onto his cock with each bob of your mouth. The burning heat under your skin is killing you now, too much to ignore, so you manage to shuffle out of your leggings and underwear and kick them away: Dick groans roughly, maybe because he can smell you more clearly now-

"Come here, pretty girl-", Dick says, sliding his hands from your hair to lift you up by the jaw. You mean to whine, perhaps beg him to let you back down, because he feels so good in your mouth - then you see the look on his face. He looks totally gone. Nothing like the Dick you know, warm and gentle and relaxed: his eyes are completely clouded over, lips parted and slick with saliva, brow furrowed with something between pain and carnal desire. You imagine you look much the same, with spit dripping from your chin, the heat you can feel burning your cheeks, and the wetness you feel running down the insides of your thighs. He meets your eyes, and there's a moment of stillness. One thumb slips from your cheek to trace over your lower lip.

Then, both of you move at once - you surge forward to kiss him again, those perfect, pink lips - you fumble with the hem of his shirt, ripping it up and over his head while barely leaving his mouth for a second - Dick's hands slide down your body to your waist. He pulls you into him as he leans forward, half-supporting your weight, and suddenly your back is against the floor and he's on top of you, kissing you hard and bruising, the chair long since kicked away and forgotten about. Every inch of freshly exposed skin feels like molten silk under your touch: you slide greedy hands over his torso as he licks into your mouth, feeling the network of ridged scars and each ridge of muscle. Thankfully, Dick grants you a few precious, savoured moments to feel his skin, while he alternates between rolling his hips against your bare pussy and kicking off his sweatpants.

It's all ungraceful and clumsy - wet kisses stolen between your movements, each of you moaning against the other's lips - and it takes much, much too long for both of you to finally shed yourself of all your clothes. Dick's hands grab greedily at your breasts as he ruts his hips against you a few times, and you can feel how your wetness spreads over his cock. Then, his hands fly down to find your knees, and he drags them to fit around his waist, pulling up until your hips are fully tilted, the stretch of your muscles verging on uncomfortable. "Oh, fuck, that's it, baby. Keep your legs there for me, won't you? Come on, wrap your legs around me - I want to get as deep as I can, it's gonna feel amazing, I promise.", Dick says, bordering on a growl now that his voice is so deep and strained, and you do as he says immediately. You need him inside of you, now; you hook your ankles behind his back, kiss him, and desperately grind your hips into his.

And then, with one deep roll of his hips, he's inside of you. One quick thrust and he's buried to the hilt, and, God, he fits inside you so perfectly: your body all but melts at the feeling of finally being filled, and you keen as you instinctively use your ankles to press his hips further into you. Dick's just large enough to stretch you out, even with how wet and ready you are, without becoming painful, and the pollen means it only takes you a short moment to adjust to his size before your body is pleading to be fucked. He's shaking and panting with restraint above you whimper, "Ho-holy fuck, Dickie, please... please move, oh my god."

"I know, baby, I know.", he says, breathlessly, voice tight with pleasure but still sympathetic. Even with him motionless inside you, it already feels so good, better than anyone you've ever fucked, and you can hardly stop yourself from grabbing him by the shoulders, pushing him down, and riding him. "It just feels so good, you feel so good - I don't want to rush it, I want to make it last. Jesus, my body feels like it's on fire while I'm touching you, I - oh, fuck, I want to take it slow, make you feel so good you cry-"

"-We have all night to be slow, Dick, you can do whatever you want to me, just fuck me-"

Dick's hips roll into yours and a drawled curse falls from his parted lips. He pulls out, almost completely, enough that you panic and squeeze him tighter with your thighs, but then he pushes back into you, slowly, letting you savour the way each nerve ending inside your pussy is set ablaze; he repeats the motion, faster, his curses morphing into sweet mumbles of your name each time he bottoms out. You can hardly breathe - it feels so good, and each thrust of his hips is met with a pollen-driven roll of your own, so it's half-grinding, half-fucking - the slight curve of his cock has him dragging deliciously against your g-spot every time. His movements are picking up in intensity now, and you can tell the pollen is taking him over completely. The same is happening to you: fuck it, you don't want to think about the pollen anymore, you just want him.

"Ah, yes! Yes, right there-right- keep going-", you cry out after a particularly hard slam of his hips. Dick is propped up on one elbow, hair clinging to his forehead with sweat, and the other hand slips down to grab at your ass and pull you up into him. He's deep enough that it hurts, but it's the best pain you've ever experienced. "Fuck, faster, please!"

He obeys, mercifully, and you think you can see sweat starting to bead on his temples. "Is this what you need, pretty girl? Come on, tell me what you want - tell me I'm making you feel good, because you're making me feel so fucking good, I swear, better than I ever even imagined - fuck, you're so wet, are you going to come again? Please, please let me make you come on my cock."

The combination of his cock inside you, and his pelvis bumping against your clit, and the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body: it's all too much to bear, your body is going into total overdrive, and it's so embarrassing that he's got you like this. You never normally beg, you never normally come so fast, but this is different and addictive and incredible - you cry out an affirmation to his words, and suddenly his hand is gripping your chin. He's fully collapsed onto you now, and his movements are more frantic rutting than anything else.

"Look at me-", he pleads, using his hand to guide your face so you're staring right into those glassy eyes. "-look at me while you come, and it'll make me come."

You can feel your muscles beginning to tense up as your orgasm starts to grow. Already, your world is spinning, and you feel halfway to blacking out from the sheer intensity, so you tangle your hands into his hair as a way to ground yourself. "Please come inside me!", you whine - the idea of being filled with his cum, letting it drip out while he fucks another load into you, it's fucking mind-blowing and you can't imagine anything better than feeling him shoot into you while you come on his cock.

Dick's jaw clenches tightly. "Are - are you sure, baby? Is that what you want?"

The next thrust hits you perfectly, and you can't help but pull him tighter into you, so his head drops to the crook of your neck. "I need it, Dickie, you know - you know that - you need me too, right? Fuck, fuck - it's gonna feel so good, I'm so close-". He spends a few moments sucking a bruise into the most tender skin of your neck before moving to press his forehead to yours. Each rough movement of his hips has you jostling against the floor; your nipples are dragging against his chest every time, making you keen, and your swollen clit is being hit so perfectly by his hips, and he's making the most perfect and breathy noises against you - he looks so fucked-out, so gone, so completely absorbed in the feeling of his cock inside you, and your vision is starting to blur at the edges as the spark in your stomach finally bursts into flames-

"That's it, baby, come for me just like that.", Dick gasps, just as your orgasm rips through you. You've got no choice but to clutch at him desperately and ride out each devastating wave as a scream tears itself from your lungs: it feels like your body is tearing itself apart with each ripple of pleasure emanating from your core. Like your body is folding in on itself like a black hole does, when everything becomes too much to bear. You actually feel like you've died, you must have, this is too good and too much and too overwhelming - you hang on to Dick through it all, and your pussy clenches down so hard he can barely move inside you, and he chokes out your name before his own orgasm hits him.

You've come down just enough to process the way he looks and sounds as he comes. Your eyes are still hazy - you kept them on him, you must have - but you nearly come again at the mere sight of him. He's too far gone to even make sounds, and instead he stutters out broken breaths through wet lips, cheeks flushed and eyebrows furrowed hard, and his eyes stay fixed on you the whole time. Even as the rest of his body spasms and rocks into you uncontrollably, even as the hand on your chin slips down to your neck and squeezes, he keeps staring at you with all the lust in the world. The best part of it all, though, is how you feel his cum spilling out into you; even more than he shot onto your hand, somehow, and you realise you're crying from how relieved your body is. Fully, fully, crying, and Dick kisses away your tears as he collapses against you.

Despite how both of you are wincing at the overstimulation, neither of you ever stop moving through it all, and you keep grinding gingerly, carefully but sloppily, against each other even while you gasp for breath against each others' lips. It can't be more than ten seconds from when you come down, before you can't control the urge to whisper, "Give me another one, Dick, please. Keep fucking me." It hurts - it hurts because he's not fucking you, he's not moving enough - you need more.

Dick keeps rolling his hips against yours in shallow movements for a few seconds. His mouth is occupied with sucking more bruises into your neck, up your throat and across your jaw: he's mumbling something incoherent, slurring his words. Each fresh bruise has you gasping his name. You're going to be covered in marks after this - not just your neck, his grip on your ass and hips has been tight enough to leave bruises there, too - and you're entirely certain you've left scratch marks down his back. You nearly come again just at the thought of that; Dick, walking around for days with your marks left on him. Scratch marks under his dress shirts when he's on business, or under the tight material of his Nightwing suit, or blatantly visible through the obscenely sheer shirts he wears out clubbing. He's going to be marked as yours.

"You look so pretty like this, holy shit-", he says, pulling his head from your neck to admire his work. "You're so gorgeous - you always are, you always fucking are - but you look even better when you're mine, fuck-"

“-make me yours, then, please-"

You gasp in shock and disappointment as Dick suddenly pulls out, and his own face crumples at the loss of touch, but his palms are firm and insistent on your waist - he kisses you once, firmly, before he's manoeuvring your body like putty in his hands. You're flipped onto your stomach with another whisper of how pretty you are, and then Dick runs calloused palms down the soaked flesh of your thighs, up over your ass, over the curve of your spine and all the way up to gently, gently, press your cheek flat against the floor. He follows his hand with hot tongue, and when he reaches your ear, he murmurs, "You taste so good, pretty girl. Stay there for me. It's okay, let go. I've got you."

Uncontrollably, your ass jerks up and backwards against where his cock is pressing into you. He chuckles. He fucking laughs with his lips pressed to your cheek - maybe having came inside you has cleared his head enough that he can think straight enough to find your desperation funny - and one of his hands slides back down your body, spreading your pussy open for him to look at. You sense his body tense as he gazes at you. "...My cum is dripping out of you, oh my god."

Fuck it back into me, you think, but you're too far gone to string together a coherent sentence anymore. Your body can do the talking. You keep your cheek pressed to the floor, maybe because your muscles are too exhausted to lift your head, or maybe because it was so fucking hot how Dick pressed your head down, but you manage to meet his eyes. You plead with him as well as you can.

Dick's piercing blue eyes roll right back into his skull when he pushes into you again. From this angle, he feels even deeper than before: with one of his hands running lines up your spine, and his lips wet against the backs of your shoulders, and the steady, strong pace he sets fucking you, you're brought to the verge of tears again within minutes. You can hardly move your body to work with him in this position: he uses the weight of his body to press you into the floor, and each thrust of his hips has you moaning loud against the floor.

He brings a string of kisses and nips up your nape, so he can kiss your cheek again. It's sweet, a gentle gesture, only amplifying the pleasure that each deep snap of his hips brings. "I - I'm not hurting you, am I? I know it must be sensitive, baby, I understand if it's too much, I know - you can tell me if it's too much-"

"-no, please-", you whimper, terrified he's going to stop, "-it's so good, please, Dickie, you're exactly what I need-", and then your voice cuts out into a broken sob as one of his hand snakes between your body and the floor to find your clit. The rough pad of his finger brushes over it a few times, eliciting whimpers from you, before he settles for simply resting his finger on your clit. With each thrust, your hips are jostled against his finger just enough to send sparks of electricity shooting through your veins - every time, it feels like flames licking through each limb, and he's fucking into you so perfectly, claiming you with teeth at your neck, rasping your name against your skin - there's wetness against your cheek, like you're drooling, and you're almost certain you can feel the wetness of your pussy dripping onto his hand.

You're so swollen with desire, you can feel how tightly you're clenching down onto his cock. The mind-blowing pressure Dick's applying to your clit is only making it stronger. "You feel so good, baby. So, so, fucking good - holy shit, you're taking me so well." Then, there's a savage thrust of his hips, one that has both of you crying out in surprise and pleasure: he freezes buried to the hilt inside you. "You're going to make me come again soon, sweetie."

That means more of his cum inside you, more of his delicious moans and groans as he comes, and you say, "God, please-"

"-not yet, I want to make you come for me again. You feel so tight and hot when you do - I need it again, I want nothing more than that, please - you think you can give me another one, huh? One more for me?"

"I - I - yeah.", you stammer. You can, you know you can - your body is practically vibrating from how hard you're trembling on the edge of another orgasm - but you don't know when it's going to stop, you don't know it ever will - maybe this will go on all night, maybe he'll fuck you for hours on end and make you cry and let you lick your mess of his cock. But maybe it won't. Maybe your body will give out, or the pollen will leave his system: this will end and nothing will ever compare. You don't want to come again if it means the end of this pleasure. "...Promise you'll keep going after, Dickie."

Dick starts rubbing rapid circles on your clit with his ring and index finger, and kisses your hairline to soothe you as you sob again. "I'm only going to stop if you ask me to, baby, I promise. You feel too good to stop, I swear - I never thought you would be so fucking perfect, but now I know, I can't stop - I'm right here, I've got you, I'm going to make you come so many times you forget your name if that's what you want."

God, you're going to come again, holy shit-

He hardly gives you the chance to come back around before he's crooning, "-one more, one more for me, right on my cock like that-"

You can't even breathe. Your lungs are on fire, your vision is completely blacked out even once the second orgasm ends, your muscles and bones have turned into mush and you can't feel anything other than the sensation of flying. You're weightless, Dick is the only thing grounding you - he coaxes you down from the aftershocks with soft kisses to your cheek, and his hand tracing circles onto your aching hip, and the muscles of his abdomen are flexing with restraint against your back. "I'm gonna come, baby-", he hisses, and you manage the barest nod and then he sinks his teeth right into your shoulder as he starts pounding into you like a whore, fuck, it's sending you spiralling out of control again-

"Fuck, yes, take my cum like that, that's it, keep coming for me, holy shit-"

You're both boneless and drenched in sweat by the end of it. You're collapsed against the floor, Dick's collapsed against you, and he's still hard inside of you. You can feel his cum - it must have spilled out onto the insides of your thighs, judging by the wetness you feel there. His cock twitches inside of you with every ragged breath he takes. You're so exhausted; this is destroying your body, it's ripping you apart from the inside out, and you're terrified that if you come again it'll split you into pieces. And you want that. You twist your body, wincing against the waves of pleasure that crash over you at even the slightest movement of his cock inside you, and kiss him.

#dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #nightwing #nightwing x reader #dc #dcu #batman #batfam #kinktober #smut #dick grayson smut #sex pollen

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honouredsatoru · 3 years

Text

JJK Characters x You on a date

notes : I tried including Gojo's love for Digimon since I also grew up watching Digimon and loving the anime with all of my heart, also because Gojo's seiyuu, both Japanese and English versions, voiced for characters in Digimon, so I wanna pay homage to the both of them. other than that, I also included my love for arts and history, something I tried to incorporate into my writing, just to make it like.. lilith's style, ya know?

extra notes : also I wrote megumi for Elli, just because haha.

warnings : slight cussing. not proofread lol. other than that, none. 100% fluff!

characters : gojo satoru, fushiguro megumi, kugisaki nobara, nanami kento, itadori yuji.

Gojo Satoru - Arcades, vintage shops, especially collectors, especially Digimon, comic book/manga stores.

[Your name]! [Your name!]! Look, look! It's the Digimon Adventure V-Tamer 01 series! All 9 of them! Let's get in!"

"Ahh hold on. Towu! We're supposed to visit the cat cafe, you promised that you would go with me and take pictures with the cat hairband on! And I'm starving!"

You jokingly scowled at him, tapping your Doc Martens feet on the ground, arms folding.

"Fucking adorable. Let me see if I can tease her more, hah." A smirk soon appeared on this blue-eyed darling of yours.

"Let me get the manga and I promise, I'll go to this cat cafe with you, baby. Hm?"

"Oh alright."

"I love you, sweetheart. I know how much you wanted to go there but the manga. I- ahaaaa"

He started pouting as he kept pointing in the direction of the Digimon manga by the window. You quickly opened your camera, taking pictures of him sulking, emitting a soft giggle that actually made his heart squeezed with joy.

He presses his lips against your forehead, thumb circling your cheek, gently squishing them before opening the door, yanking you into the comic book store with him. You vowed to hide the comic books once he goes on a mission. After all, he made you wait a month before the two of you finally get to go to this cafe you always wanted to visit.

"Baby, I can read what you're thinking. Your face shows it too. Hehe. Watch me hide your panties."

Taking in a few gulps of air to deepen your breath, you opened your eyes, to meet the love of your life's own eyes, snickering at you, his large hands on the crown of your head before ruffling your already messy hair. There is no way you can stay mad at this man, as childish as he is, you know he loves you and deep down? He knows you love him too.

Itadori Yuji - Thrift stores, internet cafes to play online games with you, cinemas.

"Candy! [Your name] love! Don't! Make! Me! Ahhh cover up for me! I am gonna lose! I am gonna-"

He turns around to face you with soft eyes, his eyebrows slightly droopy before looking back at the computer, taking in the seconds in his head to register the fact that he lost in his mission with you in Inferno.

"Awww sorry babe. I mean.. you just started playing CSGO, so tell me, why- again- damn it- you wanna- AH. Damn it! Throw the fucking grenade! I mean why you wanna play this game, you need more practice- FUCK YOU."

Gentle chuckles were heard, emitted from his throat, his soft, peach toned lips landed on your cheek repeatedly as he rubbed soothing circles around your back.

"Breathe, bunny baby. You're so feisty whenever you start having online matches. Breathe. I love you, and I don't want you to get your blood pressure rising because of these dumbos, hm?"

Your lips curl into a faint and appreciative smile, nodding while your eyes are glued to the screen, ignoring the fading laughs and snickers from the people acknowledging your mini rage.

"I love you too. If I win, I'm getting us boba and chicken nuggets. So let me fight them, okie?"

"Yes ma'am!"

Megumi - Museums, art galleries, photo exhibitions, aesthetic cafes.

"Oh Gumi bear, look at that! That is the Raft of Medusa, it was done by Thèodore Géricault, he himself interviewed two survivors from the shipwreck."

He looks over your eyes that shine with excitement and pure happiness.

"Art"

Was what he thought every time he laid his sight onto you. God knows that he falls in love with you every single time he is blessed with your presence. Resting his arm around your waist, pulling you closer, inhaling the scent of mixed berries and wild roses, he swore he heard his heartbeat increasing every two seconds in a span of one minute.

"Oh really? What do you think this painting is all about?"

Glancing at him before returning to the painting, you puffed your cheeks, pressing your lips together with your index finger curled on your chin and your thumb under it.

"Lord, she is so cute whenever she does that. Can I kiss her? Should I? No wait, she's trying to tell me her own interpretation of this painting. To me. Oh wow. I'm gonna kiss her... later. I can't interrupt her." That is all he could think of. You. He is deeply, madly, beautifully in love with you.

"In my opinion, it tells me the ways of how men, or human beings, seek out in order to survive. When we are at the brink of desperation, insanity, happiness, greed, lust, desire, wrath, grief, don't we all do things unimaginable to help us go through the day? They even resolved to cannibalism. I think even I would commit to that if I was in an extremely dire situation."

You looked at him, a wide smile on your face, emitting a soft giggle that entered his right ear and stayed within the chambers of his mind. He closed the spaces between the both of you, sealing his lips onto yours, with the intention of making this very moment last a little longer heavy within his heart.

"Art."

Was what you thought of him.

Nanami Kento - Theatres, historical museums, fine dining restaurants.

You squealed, lightly clapping your hands as you ran to a block of marble, your foot tapping against the floor. He chuckles, hands in his pocket, taking fast strides towards you.

"Namnam! Look look! That's the Parthenon Sculptures! It was founded in hm... Athens, yes! If I am not mistaken, around 438 to 432 BC. These sculptures decorated the insides of the Parthenon, it is a temple located at the fortress of the Athenian Acropolis. It is said that this temple was built to appreciate and worship the Goddess Athena, she was the deity worship in Athens. Also, ah ah! Did you know that the word parthénos means "maiden", "girl" or ‘virgin"? And I-"

You look at him, your magnificent lover wearing a dark brown trench coat, with ecru brown trousers and a black turtleneck tucked in, his neck layered with white gold necklaces. Your hand unconsciously scratches your sideburns, giggling at the side of his stoic expression, eyes piercing yours beneath that yellow-green glasses he constantly has on his chiseled face.

"Oh... I am sorry... I didn't mean to bore you. I was just so excited because you know me! I love anything that is related to ancient greek history and mythology. I can't seem to get enough of it and it is absolut-

"I'm not bored, [your name]. I was just paying attention to every single word that pretty lips of yours uttered. It's magnificent that you knew all of this. It shows just how smart, curious, bright your mind and soul is. And darling?"

"Huh?"

"I am lucky to be blessed with someone like you. With Gojo constantly following me, there is no way I can read the books I bought for myself. However, having you around, breaking the ice with your random history tib bits, I feel like I am reading the pages, savouring each word, alphabet, sentence, thus expanding my quest and love for knowledge."

You looked down. Normally, you're not the type to tear up this easily but seeing how this man, this angel of a man, appreciates the little things you loved and adored, you can't help but let the waterworks out. You lifted your head up to meet his gaze, the tip of your nose slightly stuffy. You grabbed his arms, clinging onto him, the difference of height and size makes it sweet to the eyes of strangers surrounding you both.

"Oh Namnam. Thank you so much. This means the world to me. Shall we... go and see the best of Ramesses the Great? I've loads to tell you!"

Nobara - Shopping malls, ferry rides, beach dates, parks with cherry blossoms.

"Baby... tell me, have you ever seen anything as joyous as the ocean?"

You two stood by the seashore, fingers intertwined, your head resting on her shoulders, the sound of the seas splashing against the rocks and the warmth around your foot, it tingled but it feels good at the same time.

"I don't want this moment to end, [your name]."

"Why is that, pretty one?"

A faint sigh leaves her lips, you feeling her body loosen up.

"I just.. school is sort of stressful so my time spent with you liberates me from the pressure, fatigue, and image of curses embedded in my brain. Walking with you... through this airy womb of skies and clouds, don't you know it makes me happy?"

You leaned closer, pressing a soft peck on her cheeks, earning yourself a pair of scarlet cheeks with a gorgeous smile from the one next to you. You turned yourself to face her, hands on her shoulders, bringing her body closer to yours.

"Whenever and wherever you need me, I will be there. I might not be perfect, but I am gonna do my best to be the one you can always count on."

You pressed a kiss on her left cheek.

"I love you."

A kiss on her right cheek.

"I love you."

A kiss to the lips of the woman whom you shared your entire universe with.

"To the moon and back, I love you, Kugisaki Nobara."

The end.

tags : @tojisveryown @sookyshima @megumifushi @sixeyesgojo @sirthisisa-wendys @sasso-oda @fushigurocockslut @nkogneatho @kotarousgf @noritoshiikamo

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regencyslxt · 3 years

Text

In His Defense

1555 words.

Imagine Bucky catching you defending him at work.

warning: like 1 swear word.

You had been in the office now for around 7 hours. You were an agent in training, however, so far despite the sparring and training you had done in the compound with Steve and the other Avengers you were yet to progress further than your desk. You wouldn’t have minded, you knew your computer skills were advanced, if it weren’t for a couple of agents on your floor who didn’t quite understand that sound travels. Meaning every word that slipped past their lips, you heard. And you ignored it too, that was until they started talking about the blue-eyed god Steve always brought to your training sessions.

Bucky Barnes. Ex Hydra assassin turned hero. Your work crush. In fact, he was your crush out of work too. He seemed to have wormed his way into your every thought, not that you were complaining. He had been nothing short of a sweetheart. Holding doors open when he sees you coming, telling you good morning when you get to work early. Let’s not even talk about his constant encouragement during 1 v 1’s. He could sweep you flat on your ass and he’d still tell you what a great job you’d done. God you were whipped. And the worst part is, you knew he didn’t think of you even remotely close to the way you thought of him. How could he? You weren’t an avenger; you weren’t even a field agent yet.

Anyways, you could handle your co-workers (not that you enjoyed working with them) gossiping about you.

“Look at her, it’s no wonder Fury hasn’t put her out on the field yet.”

“She’s always glued to that screen and if she not staring at her monitor, she’s staring at Agent Barnes.”

“It’s so pathetic.”

You were used to it. Ever since they found out about your little crush on Barnes they hadn’t shut up about it. It was to be expected, it was all they were good for. The last mission they went on together went bust, they gave away their position within a half-hour of them arriving and almost got the team they were with killed. Dumbasses.

Recently, however, instead of focussing on you they had directed their attention to the metal armed veteran that walked through the corridors.

“I can’t believe he’s here…like how many people did he kill, and we’re just expected to work happily alongside him, I don’t think so” one scoffed.

“I know, I guess being best friends with Captain America means everyone turns a blind eye.”

…

“Do you think he remembers? I hope he does.”

“He doesn’t deserve to forget.”

…

You were very well aware of what he had done in his past, who wasn’t? You were also aware, though, of how hard he was trying to make amends. How every day he was trying hard to figure himself out, to figure out who he was before the Winter Soldier. So, when these two agents couldn’t keep their mouths shut for five minutes whilst the avengers were meeting in the conference room, you found yourself biting your tongue.

“He should’ve stayed frozen, maybe then they could get a mission done without having to worry about a random Russian guy triggering him.”

“Imagine actually trying to convince everyone he’s a good person after what he did, what a joke.”

You turned to them, unable to hold your tongue any longer.

“Can you guys shut up? I mean is it so hard for you both to just sit down and do the job you’re being paid to do instead of chatting shit because the last time I checked that wasn’t on the job description…” you spoke out.

They both looked at you wide-eyed.

“Excuse me? Who do you think you are?”

“It doesn’t matter but I know you know who I am because you’ve had nothing but my name in your mouth since I started.”

You stand from your chair and walk over to them. They step back a touch. The conference room doors open behind you as you go.

“What I do want to know, is what makes you think you have the right to stand here and criticise Agent Barnes for moving on with his life. For trying to fix everything he’s done. He feels bad enough as it is, he doesn’t need you two chiming in with your rude comments every time he walks past or makes an appearance. So, you can stand here and act all high and mighty but in reality you’re both crap at your jobs. I genuinely don’t know how you managed to be let in the field because as soon as anything happens around here you are both the first ones to cower away and tuck your tails between your legs,” You exclaim.

They stand there, mouths gaping trying to think of something to say but they fall short.

“Y/N…” a low voice speaks from behind you.

Your body tenses and you inhale a sharp breath. You close your eyes and look down at your feet, all the confidence you had before was now washed away. You had done it now, all the time you had spent forming a friendship with the man was now wasted. You really didn’t want to turn to face him but you knew you would have to at some point so you slowly spun on your heels to face his direction. His boots were a nice view, at least that’s what you told yourself knowing you couldn’t bring yourself to look elsewhere.

“Look at me please...” he whispers, stepping closer to you. He looked towards Steve and the others and silently pleading for them to leave.

“I think we have somewhere else to be don’t you think guys?” A round of murmured agreements could be made out.

“You two as well, I’m sure Fury wants a word with you both.” Steve motioned for the two agents to follow him, and they quickly made their way over and trailed behind him.

It was just you and him now. His hand made its way to your chin and he tilted your head up.

“There you are…” he chuckles. You can feel your cheeks burning as he stares at you.

“Come on doll, don’t get all shy on me now. You weren’t shy 2 minutes go.” He laughs at your embarrassed expression.

“That’s not funny! “you groan.

“I didn’t know you were all there…I would’ve kept my mouth shut if I had.”

“Are you telling me you wouldn’t have defended me?”

“NO, I just meant that- I mean- You- “You let out a huff of air.

“You don’t need me to defend you, you’re James Barnes. You can quite easily defend yourself…”

“That is true but it’s so much nicer having a doll like you do it for a change,” he smirks as he traces his fingers down the length of your arm, taking your hand in his.

“And I’m hoping since you spoke so highly of me before, that I might actually have a chance with you.” He quirked an eyebrow. You gaped at the man in front of you.

“A chance? With me? You want a chance with me?” To say you were shocked was an understatement. To be honest you weren’t sure if your ears were playing tricks on you or not.

“Y/N you can’t seriously be that oblivious can you?”

“Oblivious to what?” What on earth was happening?

“You seriously haven’t realised that you’re the only trainee I force myself to talk to. It’s not because I have to, but because your voice is the only thing I want to hear at 8 o’clock in the morning when I’m still half asleep. You are the only person that makes my mind go blank, that’s why even if I want to spend my entire day talking to you all I can bring myself to say is good morning. You fluster me Y/N Y/L/N, and it’s an issue because Sam won’t leave me alone about it.”

You laugh softly, still completely in shock at the fact the man you have had feelings for since you got the job here is currently confessing his feelings for you.

“So to answer your question yes, I am asking if I have a chance with you.” his hands wrap around your waist and he pulls you close, his eyes move to meet yours and your breath catches in your throat. You blink up at him, moving your own hands to the nape of his neck, subconsciously playing with his hair.

“I can’t believe this is happening right now,” you admit.

“There isn’t anything on this earth that could make me say no to you Bucky, so yes. I will give you a chance. And one after that, then one after that…” you continue until Bucky catches you in a kiss. You pull back in surprise, but quickly return the kiss, pulling him as close to you as possible.

You both separate a few moments later, Bucky tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you do. A yawn escapes your lips, and Bucky smiles adoringly at you.

“There’s a coffee shop nearby, we can go get something if you’d like...”

“I’d like that Buck.”

He connects his hand with yours, and you make your way towards the elevator.

“It’s a date.”

#imagine #x reader #regencyslxt #marvel imagine #marvel #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #winter soldier #winter solider x reader

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chainofclovers · 3 years

Text

Ted Lasso 2x7 Thoughts

“Headspace” is a very apt name for this episode, in which we learned almost no new information about the characters in Ted Lasso but learned a great deal about the way many characters’ brains work.

Most of the episodes this season have been so full of new information (if you wanna know something about how my brain works, the critique that early s2 episodes lack conflict does not compute), so full of dramatic irony (Sam and Rebecca don’t realize they’re messaging each other on Bantr! Rebecca’s voicemail to Ted doesn’t actually indicate that she spent a significant portion of time panicking and looking for him!), and misunderstandings that it was really nice to spend a bit over thirty minutes on an episode with very easily mappable plotlines.

Ted and Sharon and Therapy

Ordinarily in my little recaps I talk about the characters as real people making their own decisions, because every character on this show feels very real. But I have to take a minute to just, like, celebrate the acting in these scenes. Sarah Niles and Jason Sudeikis brought the perfect energy to each of their three scenes in Dr. Sharon’s office.

The drinking bird toy! The way he switches from nodding along with it to shaking his head no while the bird continues to shake its head yes, just like Ted shook his head no while saying yes, they should hire a sports psychologist! The way he finally stills the bird in the final therapy scene in the episode...but performatively throws the tissue box.

(Someone is going to need those tissues, Ted. It might be you.)

I also LOVE that this is the first time we see Sharon in an extended scene that takes place in a session. We’ve seen her rapport with the players, we’ve seen the results, and we’ve seen the things she does to make someone feel comfortable at the start of a session, and that’s all the information WE need to know to feel confident in her excellence as a psychologist. But because Ted hasn’t been able to fully appreciate those things, it’s so fitting that his sessions are a time for us to learn more about Sharon’s approach along with him.

It’s just...such good acting. The way she tells him he doesn’t need to worry. The kind of charming (but not performatively charming, just...charming) smile on his face when he claims he knows he doesn’t need to worry. And the way his voice changes a little as the conversations progress—deeper, less controlled, with some very genuine Midwestern “ma’am”s.

Sam and Rebecca and Awkwardness

Sam and Rebecca were so awkward when talking to each other in the hallway! If I had been in that hallway I would have been physically unable to stop myself from doing something even more awkward and diverting to make it stop. (I say this as someone who is neither disgusted by or delighted by the direction of the Bantr storyline. This is a good story about two good people who are in very different places in their lives existing in both a manufactured connection and the real, and very different, connection they have when they aren’t glued to their phones. This story is supposed to be awkward and uncomfortable.)

I did like the parallels of their friends sort of urging them on/coaching them through the inherent panic of the three dots that appear and disappear—a source of panic whether you’re the one creating the dots on the other screen or watching them and feeling at their mercy.

I like that in this episode both Ted and Rebecca are loudly broadcasting “I AM NOT IN THE RIGHT HEADSPACE FOR A ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP”—Ted with his rueful awareness that Michelle would be upset if she heard him still referring to her as his wife, Rebecca with her insistence that relationships are doomed and awful even though she’s talking to two people (Keeley and Higgins) in committed relationships.

Roy and Keeley and Space

This plot was a really wonderful...counterpoint? complement? to the places both Ted and Rebecca are in as Ted starts to come to terms with the fact that he’s going to have to deal with his past and the losses he’s suffered (including the loss of his marriage) and as Rebecca questions whether she’s really going to embark on the next phase of a relationship with someone whose identity she does not know.

Because Ted and Rebecca are stuck apart, it was great to see Keeley struggle with needing space from Roy without worrying for a second about whether or not this challenge was a threat to their relationship. (Keeley and Roy aren’t used to long haul relationships, so they both see it as a threat, but the audience doesn’t have to.)

There was so much going on in that boot room. I love the coexisting realities there—Rebecca and Keeley and Higgins treating the boot room as their personal room for secret smoking, but as the crowd grows all these other unspoken dynamics emerge (it’s been two days since the panic attack and this is the first time we see Ted and Rebecca in the same room and there’s no evidence that they’ve talked about what happened with the panic attack or Rebecca’s parents or any of the big stuff).

Everything about Keeley’s plotline this episode reminded me of how Ted and Keeley are so similar (and, to a lesser extent, Rebecca and Roy are so similar). Rebecca and Roy both tend to write things off (Rebecca is so certain any relationship she has will be doomed, but it’s just because of how hurt she already is; Roy wanted to convince himself he was happier as a pundit than as a coach, but it’s just because he was scared of how much he wanted to be back on on the pitch), only able to deal with things when a safe person like Ted or Keeley sort of startles growth out of them. (We talk a lot about how Rebecca should be in therapy, but Roy should too.) And Ted and Keeley! Everything’s great, everything’s sunny, but look at how Keeley stands on her couch and screams in sadness and anger when she blows up at Roy and he leaves.

This time, things work out between Roy and Keeley because he figures out what Keeley was trying to communicate and respects what she needs, but in the future she’s going to have to figure out how to articulate herself more clearly. (And so will Ted...not only in therapy with Sharon, but as everything with the other coaches and the team and Will and basically everyone in his life come to light.)

Nate and Beard and Twitter-Insecurity-Rage

Ahhhhhhhhh.

This plotline made me feel almost as nervous for Ted (the things he doesn’t know) and Beard (the things he knows) as it did for Nate and Colin and Will and everyone.

At first I was really bothered by the repetition of Nate checking Twitter. We know! He’s on Twitter a lot now that he’s semi-famous! He’s obsessed! But then it occurred to me that it’s extremely perfect that Nate checking Twitter becomes this silent refrain building him up or tearing him down based on the latest 280-character compliment or take-down. Because this is how the internet works! You get obsessed with something on it and then check it a million times per day until you feel sick. It could be a dating app, or a trending story, or almost anything. If you check it often enough, the internet won’t even have anything truly new for you...it just feels like it does. So the repetition of Nate scrolling Twitter wasn’t meant to deliver us new information, but rather to mimic the old information coming through again and again.

I feel so deeply for Nate, who’s brilliant about football but unfit to coach because the power dynamics of coaching are a totally foreign concept to someone like him, who relies entirely on external inputs to take his actions. Ted and Beard and Roy all go and learn things and bring them back to the pitch, but none of them have had the capacity to teach Nate how to do this. Even Nate’s private thoughts, which he wrote down during s1, only come to light when Ted prompts him. And when your external inputs are coming from social media and an unappreciative father and a hyper-awareness of insult after years spent on the receiving end of bullying...it’s very dangerous. Maybe even literally physically dangerous.

I also feel so deeply for everyone who interacts with Nate right now, particularly Will.

Some Bonus but Never Extraneous Trent Crimm

Trent in the pub made me NERVOUS. Seeing him in this new place where Ted goes to wind down, almost coaching Ted through lying to him about having had food poisoning?! When they both clearly know that isn’t what happened?!?

It felt very fitting that this uncomfortable yet kind-of-mercifully-executed lie takes place towards the end of an episode full of such positive and negative growth for the characters. Such movement. It felt all wrong (in a good way), like covering something new and smooth and precious with spackle because maybe you actually wanna paint something else after all even though it won’t serve you in the long run to do it. To paraphrase Dr. Sharon, the truth will set you free but first it will piss you off, and Ted’s conversation with Trent is a reminder of all the layers there are to cut through on the way to the truth.

If Apple TV could simply release 2x8 - 2x12 this week, I would bargain with something crazy and miserable like giving up caffeine until October 8, the air date for the season finale. I continue to love this season and to feel the serenity of watching excellent actors execute on excellent scripts...but we’re getting to the point where the momentum’s built up and is heading to ever-scarier places, and I neeeeeeeeeed to knoooooooow.

#ted lasso #ted lasso s2 spoilers #meta by me #ted lasso 2x7 #a lesbian watches ted lasso

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creativeashproductions · 3 years

Text

When the Pain Ends // Charlie Gillespie

Summary: Breaking up with your boyfriend ends with your broken hand, a broken heart and a trip to Canada. Getting out of Oklahoma for comfort of your younger brother Owen brings you into contact with a sweet Canadian.

Warnings: Swearing, hospital, cheating boyfriend, angst and bit of fluff

Words: 3.1k

Requested: No.

A/N: Tidbit of info is that I am a university student. I had last week off and I’m six minutes into my History Zoom Lecture. Here’s a little fic.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX PLEASE!

Masterlist

The scowl glued on your face as you waited in the ER for the results from the x-ray you had gotten back from minutes ago. A bag of ice on the swollen knuckles of your right hand still splattered in drops of blood. The same blood as the small drops on your shirt as well. If that didn’t put a scowl on your face, it was the next issue.

The reason for your visit to the ER was in bed next over complaining as a nurse checked his face. His eyes meeting yours in a blend of guilt, regret and fear almost. You couldn’t meet his eyes. You didn’t want to meet his eyes.

Let’s backtrack a little for a short history.

The summer after graduation, you had met a guy on the beach playing volleyball in need of another player. You joined, and then you fell for the guy just as he did for you. For the last three years, you were now twenty-one years old. Parker had been a really good guy. Until yesterday.

“Babe!” Parker sounded congested with the bandages held up his nose. He had been fighting the nurse to come to your side.

“Don’t call me that!” You hissed glaring at the tall boy with the auburn hair colour that had once been your favourite colour.

“C’mon it was a mistake-Ow!” Parker whined at the nurse applied more pressure as she cast a sympathetic glance at you. A small smile of thanks passed to the nurse who had maybe pressed a little no hard on Parker’s nose.

Your eyes rolled at the drama that was Parker when it came to injuries that had been his entire fault, to be frank. Your fist meeting his face? His fault for cheating. What did he expect? A congratulations? Screw that.

“Say anything else I swear I’ll hit the other ball.” You glared at the boy sending him to a fit, shaking fear of stupidity.

The beach was filled up with teens and adults with children on the nice weekend day out of the loud city. Originally you hadn’t been able to join Parker with your mutual friends, but something else had spurred you there. Instead of having the weekly movie night via FaceTime with your younger brother, you had other plans. A particular video sent by Parker’s best friend and his cousin too had brought you here. Livvy had grown close in the three-year relationship you had with her cousin.

Your fury filled gaze flickered around the beach and the grass in the large opening area of the waterfront. Finally, your eyes found Parker sitting with Livvy on the blanket on the grass with Steve. Livvy was the first to see with marching through the people spreading like a curtain from the angry girl.

“Hey, Parker!” You shouted at your boyfriend in a conversation with your other two friends. Parker’s smile grew just before it falters at your expression.

“Hey, Babe,” Parker spoke, climbing to his full five-foot-ten stature. Livvy’s smile pulled up in an amused smirk while Steve looked more confused.

“How was your weekend at your sick Granny’s house?” You came to a stop a foot away from him. Arms crossed just under your chest his thick eyebrows furrowed together.

“Uh…it was okay. She’s feeling better.” Parker nodded to himself tilting his head to the side, “It was-“

“I hope she better. Her treatment must have been incredible.” You replied, unfurling your arms to grab the phone from your back pocket.

Parker grew more confused, “What?”

“The doctor sure knew what he was doing. The prescription of ‘dicked down’ cured her illness and old age.” The whistle you made after your statement sounded, but you grew more satisfied with the circle of people behind you.

“Oh.” Steve choked, raising one fist to press against his mouth. By now Livvy had started recording on her phone.

Livvy and Parker may be cousins, but she loathed cheaters when it was the cause of her parents’ divorce. Parker’s lips parted as he paled. The click of the glass screen brought up a video of Parker and a brunette in a hot tub.

“Ba-“

“Fucking look at your actions.” You hissed stepping even closer, “Was it worth it? Jeopardizing a relationship with someone you share years of memories with? Years of love and trust? All for thirty seconds of fun? We both know you tend to…get too excited.”

“Oh shit,” Steve spoke, shifting his gaze between you and Parker like he was a bobblehead of Einstein. The very bobblehead that you had laughed giving Steve with his obsession over the legendary scientist.

“It just happened. I still love you. I just needed a- “Parker stumbled back bringing his hands to his face, “OW! You broke my nose!”

“Ouch.” You hissed shaking your aching hand coated in some blood that splattered your shirt from shaking the hand.

“What the hell! You bit…holy fuck!” Parker screamed as your foot came up between his spread legs, nailing his left nut. He collapsed onto the grass, struggling to hold his bleeding broke nose and his nuts.

“That’s what you get asshole.” You shouted, turning to Livvy, “Can you take me to the hospital?”

“Parker drove, I’ll drive you both there. Steve can keep you two from fighting.” Livvy spoke, ending the video to shove everything in the oversized beach bag.

Now it was hours later as per usual in most hospitals elongating the time you were forced to spend with your now ex-boyfriend. Livvy and Steve had gone home a while back. Parker continued trying to fix the unrepairable damage he had done.

“Y-“

“That’s it!” You exclaimed jumping down from the bed to storm over to Parker. You made a few steps before arms encircled your waist.

“Okay, Slugger.” The gritty voice of your father spoke tugging you as far away from your ex-boyfriend as possible, “As much I want to kill him, I think you broke his pretty-boy face enough.”

The anger drained from your body as you slumped against your dad anguish set in with a tsunami of hurt. Time melted as you broke in your father’s arm; missing the doctor giving information. Your hand was fitted with a cast, and next thing you were aware of it was in the car.

“You bruised hits nuts. Broke his nose.” Dad nonchalantly spoke, turning the steering wheel as he exited the hospital parking lot. He didn’t bother making small talk as he let you be quiet on the drive home.

You didn’t know what hurt more, the heartache or your broken hand stabilized in the brace. The clearing of a throat had your attention is drawn to the house you had grown up no doubt holding your upset mother.

“She’s not that mad.” Dad quietly spoke, handing your phone that had died during the time in the ER. You shot him a look at the inaccuracy of his statement because you both know she was angry.

“Her daughter just spent hours in a hospital with a dead phone. We both know she probably thought I was dead in a ditch.” You deadpanned as you both walked up to the door of the home in Norman, Oklahoma.

The door opened before you could reach for it, and a flurry of blonde hair attacked you in a hug. Your mother hugged then leaned away to scan your features. Catching the dried tear stains paired with the red-rimmed eyes.

“Sweetheart.” Dinah spoke, raising her hands to wipe the tears from your face only causing more to fall, “What’s wrong?”

“Parker cheated on me.” You mumbled melting into her arms in another round of tears, breaking your parents’ hearts.

Meanwhile in Vancouver, Canada

Owen loved his job and the people he had met, but he missed the weekly movie nights with his older sister. The Joyner siblings had gotten down pat a system of sync to have the same movie playing at the same time on FaceTime. Imagine his surprise when he got a text apologizing.

Virtual movie night postponed. It put him in a slump that greatly concerned his roommate at the decrease of excitement. Even the next day, he was sad like a kicked puppy.

“Bro? You good?” Charlie asked from his place in the kitchen, scanning his emails on his computer. Owen barely made his eyes, “Wasn’t movie night with your sister yesterday?”

Owen nodded, “Yeah she-“

As Owen had gone to explain his phone had dinged with a concerning message from his mother.

Mom: Have you heard from Y/N? She hasn’t come home.

Owen swiped out of the conversation to the most used one with you shared with him to send a mass of messages. All not even coming up as read by you. It was his stipulation that you had it one for his safe of mind.

“C’mon you little shit,” Owen grumbled, pressing your contact to call. It didn’t even ring, “Dead cell.”

Charlie’s full attention shifted to the younger guy sitting on their couch in the apartment they used during filming. As Owen started pacing, Charlie was over quick as a bunny to offer comfort to him. The boys had grown so close, with Jeremy too, that they knew how to help the other.

“Owen, you need to tell me what’s going on.” Charlie soothed the blonde with his eyes pleading with the teenager.

“My parents haven’t talked to my sister. She didn’t go home.” Owen admitted scratching at his chest when his chest tightened. The other immediately finding his pulse on his neck to ensure he still had a pulse.

“Oh shit.” Charlie retorted, tapping his foot on the hardwood floor trying to find the right words to help his friend.

For the next hour, the boys kept in contact with Owen’s family and checking your social media in shifts as they filmed. It was a slow day when Owen’s phone finally rang with his mother’s contact once more.

“Mom, did you find her?” Owen asked, picking at the skin on his lips pacing as he had all day. The level of anxiety had been perfect for the scene he had filmed as Alex.

“Yeah. Look, Owen, she needs to get out of Oklahoma. Do you have room for her?” Dinah asked her son periodically glancing in the living room at the lifeless young woman.

“Yeah. We have an extra room.” Owen supplied squeezing the phone in his grip, “How is she? What happened?”

“I’m letting her settle before I ask any questions, but her flight is in a bit. It was either you take her in, or we pay for a hotel room. Oh! I got this lego-“

“I have to get back to filming. I’ll call you tonight.” Owen told his mother as his thumb hit the record circle on his phone. Kenny waving him over to film a scene with Booboo that would be the last before heading home.

The over the counter pain pill went down with a swig of water in the airport waiting for Owen and his roommate. Owen had messaged you that he would pick you up on the way from the set in perfect timing.

“Y/N!” Owen cheered catching sight of your form hunched forward on the bench you had miraculously found empty. Your blank eyes seeing the blue of your younger brother.

Owen’s eyes widened in shock, “What the hell happened to your hand?”

Noncommittal, the girl walked by her brother with her luggage in the mission to get to the car. All you wanted was to burst into years under your blankets until the world turned again, when birds sang, and the word wasn’t painted in dull colours.

Just as it had during the ride from the hospital to the house, it was dead silent in the car with the barest sound of music. Owen and Charlie had been having a conversation with expressions with the tension in the backseat stifling.

“This is our place.” Charlie spoke, opening the apartment door with a flourish for the girl and her luggage. Your eyes scanned the modest apartment with minimal mess compared to the tornado devastation of Owen’s Oklahoma room.

“Okay.” You replied, watching as Owen rolled the luggage to the room you would use for the few weeks you would be here.

Once showered, dressed and settled, you retreated to the couch to watch a film with the two boys. Your mind fluttered between Beca’s blow out with her father and Jesse to the city of Norman. As if thinking of Parker manifested something your phone buzzed with notifications.

@/livvyjo: Go, girl! [video]

@/malia134: Parker goes down like the bitch he is!!!

@/notsteverogers: I got a front-row seat to the fight.

Those three comments on Livvy’s video had more support than hate plus the video itself was hilarious. It caught the entire confrontation from greeting the cheater to being pulled away to spend the ten minutes in the same car. The car you had hooked up in the backseat of in the years you dated him.

“-The prescription of ‘dicked down’ cured her illness and old age.” The pure anger on your expression amused you.

“What are you watching?” Owen inquired from the couch he watched the movie from. It made up for the lack of a film last night.

“A girl punching her bag of shit ex-boyfriend. She almost ripped his face off in the hospital.” You softly replied with your thumb double-tapping Livvy’s post.

Charlie’s attention shifted from the pool mashup with the Barden Bellas to the pride evident in your tone. It was the first time he had heard you laugh during the few hours he had been in your presence.

“What movie?”

“Oh, you know Parker’s Dicked Down Adventures. Filmed free with an iPhone.” You spoke sliding down to sit flush to Charlie to show the video you refreshed.

Owen’s mouth opened, “He cheated on you? How stupid is he??”

“You have a mean right hook.” Charlie supplied replaying the video for the third time with a weird feeling in his gut. The confidence stirred a body warming heat in the Canadian actor unlike anything else he had felt before.

“Dad taught me.” You replied, slouching down in the plush couch with a tiny smiling, “The nurse heard what happened. She put excessive pressure for his actions. I overheard his diagnosis; nasty bruised testicle and a broken nose.”

Both boys winced at the description. Owen ditching Charlie’s side to sit beside you, leaving you in the middle of the boys.

“I almost attacked him before Dad dragged me out of the room.” You recounted snuggling into your younger brother’s side.

“Where are my keys?” Owen questioned his roommate, “We need them to drive to the airport. I need to kill the ass that hurt my sister.”

Your deft fingers grasped Owen’s wrist when he went to get up because, in all honesty, he probably would book a flight. He wouldn’t go through with the plan to physically hurt Parker, but Owen had a wicked tongue for insults.

You spent one month in Vancouver with your brother and his castmates from helping Maddie with her homework. Movie nights with Owen changed to include Charlie too. Shopping trips with Sav and Tori. Baking with Jadah. You became family with them.

All good things come to an end. You had settled back in Norman with brighter plans that didn’t involve relying on men. Movie nights still happened with the boys, but things got hectic. Virtual movie nights shifted to texting Charlie and calls.

“Hey dork.” Charlie spoke walking down the street in Vancouver to the restaurant he was meeting the cast at. His lips pulled back in a massive grin, hearing your voice.

“Hey Char!” You enthusiastically spoke, walking out of the building with more pep in your step at the voice of the man, “What’s up?”

“On my way for food with everyone. How are you feeling?” Charlie asked, rubbing his fingertips on the dark denim pants. The sound of your voice brightening up his day more than he thought possible.

“Ooh. I should let you go, huh?” You questioned shifting to hold the phone between your shoulder and chin. Fingers unlocked the new car you had bought with the money you had saved.

A nice change of money from selling the jewellery, clothes and other miscellaneous gifts Parker had given you. The necklace he gave you that once belonged to his grandmother had been given back to him. Other than that you had no interaction with the ass.

“I’d rather talk to you.” Charlie admitted biting his lip in concentration, “I have a question.”

“Okay. What’s your question?” You questioned as your phone connected to your car—Charlie’s voice coming through the car speakers.

“Filming is almost over. Do you have plans for New Years? I’d like you to see you again.”

His words set a flutter of butterflies moving in your stomach at his nervous confidence striking the new information. The change in your friendship had been felt on his side as well and while you usually would think one-month post cheating wasn’t long enough. Something about Charlie felt comfortable as if everything had been preparing to fall for him.

“I could fly-“

“I’d like to see where you grew up. Your favourite places and where you went to school. I want to know the little things that made you who you are.” Charlie spoke coming to a stop outside the restaurant, waiting for your answer.

Owen’s eyes pulled from his debate with Sacha and Jeremy to the nervous Canadian biting his lip outside the window. By the expression on his face, Owen couldn’t guess who he was talking about. It was the smile that had been appearing on Charlie’s face for the last two weeks you had been staying with them.

Charlie had fallen for Owen’s big sister, and he couldn’t think of anyone better. The bond between you and Charlie had been natural and magical to watch. It was kinda gross seeing his best friend and sister having heart eyes with each other. Yet, Owen had never liked Parker, but he loved the idea of having Charlie as a brother.

“Y-yeah. Of course, you can Char.” The flattering blush heated up your skin at the turn in the convo—a grin splitting on the two individuals with more than three thousand kilometres between them.

“Cool. I should join the cast. I’ll text you later.”

“Bye, Charlie.” You whispered to the boy looking out the window noticing something she had been oblivious to.

The world had regained the colour, the birds sang again, and the world turned once more. All because a boy helped her heal.

Tag List (PLEASE SEND AN INBOX TO BE ADDED! I CANNOT GUARANTEE YOU WILL BE ON THE LIST VIA POST COMMENTS!)

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#charlie gillespie imagines #charlie gillespie fanfiction #charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie imagine #luke patterson imagines #jatp fanfic #charlie gillespie #caitsy and ash productions

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howggswouldreact · 3 years

Text

🌈 How would dating Olivia Hye be like 🌈

you met in high school

you studied in the same room as hers and sat nearby

sometimes, you tried to talk about anything with her

but contrary to what she shows up on stage, Hyejoo is very shy

she didn't talk much, but she liked to hear you talk

in a conversation about the History homework in the group chat of your class, you saw her interacting, asking which pages she should be based on to start it

you still hadn't noticed that you had a growing crush on her, but that's what drove you to save her phone number and answer her question privately to talk more

surprisingly, she became more talkative with you through the messages she sent you

until one day, at school, you were shocked that she started talking to you, not the other way around

then with time, you became that duo that everyone always said that were glued

and, in fact, it was just like that

her parents adored you

your parents adored her

she used to sleep at your house and you at hers

you both did all the school assignments together, even when they weren't for groups/duos

you spent all your time together and when one of you skipped classes or would not spend the weekend at the other's house, felt like it was tighten your chest

that's how you noticed that you felt more than friendship feelings for her

and Hyejoo felt her feelings for you growing

she was afraid to ruin the friendship, but she also couldn't get away from you

she debuted on Loona before saying these feelings to you

you didn't meet a lot since then because when she wasn't recording a mv, she was practicing with the group

you were sad but understood that it was her dream and you would respect that moment

even though you missed her soooo much

so on your birthday you said you’d expect her to get some time to go to your party

and so she gathered the courage to talk to you, even though she arrived almost at the end of the party

she took you to a more secluded corner of the house (your bedroom, since all your friends were dancing and having fun in the living room)

Hyejoo said she would give you a gift

she asked you to close your eyes

anxious, you closed them

"Hyejoo, no need to surprise me, I'll have to see it at one time or another!", you said, smiling

she did not answer

you didn't open your eyes, waiting with your hands outstretched

then you felt her hands on yours

and before you could open your eyes, you felt her lips on yours

you were confused at first but then you relaxed

you held her by the shoulders and what was a simple long peck turned into a shy tongue kiss

after that, all the time you spent together, usually in your bedroom or in hers (never in the dorm), was full of kisses

until one day she said, irritated:

"are we going to stay in this... thing, or do you want to be my girlfriend?"

"obviously I want to be your girlfriend!", you replied, laughing a little and receiving a quick kiss, followed by a hug

after that, you started dating Olivia Hye!

she looks intimidating but

it changes very fast with you around

you didn’t use to play a lot of computer games, before her it was something more casual

but... everyone knows that Hyejoo loves games

you love watching her play, but for her, having you watching it is not enough

so she starts to encourage you to play with her

she teaches you how to play new games

buys a pc gamer for you on your birthday the year after your first kiss

(which makes you almost pass out because... computers are not cheap)

(but she doesn't care about price tho)

buy matching accessories

(all of hers are black and yours, white)

she can do anything so whenever she does something, you will be surprised at how her talent is in different areas and, for her, it can be the most natural thing to do

at first, you were a bit jealous that she and Chaewon were soulmates

but with time and all the security that Hyejoo gives you, you understand that their friendship is that way

and that you and only you are the love of her life

you buy a lot of food when you are together

lots of fun eating, by the way

when she has to travel with the group, tends to be quieter because misses you

the girls notice it, of course, and sometimes they make jokes about it but they don't get on Hyejoo's nerves very much because they know it's not cool

after all, both your schedules are completely different. it wouldn't be fair to joke about it

record loona logs like she's telling you things that are happening day to day

and send you the unedited videos of it

everything that has to do with wolves you make sure to buy because it reminds you of her

you always watch the cherry bomb cover

"watching this video again?", she says as if it were nothing much

the same is repeated with Egoist mv, or any video that she appears

"I'm sorry but I can't help it... I'm Olivia Hye biased!", you reply.

she rolls her eyes, but there's a silly smile on her lips

whenever you goes to sleep at her house, which doesn't happen very often since she spends most of her time in the dorm, she makes sure that you uses her laptop to play those games with her

but you end up playing very badly because you are distracted kissing or talking about the day you had

get used to her work routine

and also gets used to her routine of staying up during the night

which makes you sometimes lose track of time

but it's so nice to talk to her at dawn...

this is the moment when she feels more free and, because everything is quiet, it is as if there were only the two of you in the world

and even when you sleep in her house or she’s in yours, the feeling is the same

long conversations about deep things, plans and goals, insecurities and uncertainties, weaknesses, advices...

likes to sleep at home because you sleep in her bed with her

(a small detail none of your parents know about)

and so, she lies on top of you and asks for your hand in her hair

it's the most comfortable way she found to sleep and she only feels 100% rested with that

loves to kiss you but does it only when you're alone

long and slow kisses

it is very difficult for her to give you quick kisses because, for her, it's as if she isn't enjoying it in the right way

know the exact strength to squeeze your waist during the kiss

also knows the exact strength to pull you by the waist towards her and leave you completely melted in her arms

you usually buy caps and clothes for her

all in black or gray tones

and she gives you her favorite sweatshirts for you to wear

"they look better on you, anyway."

take pictures of you while you sleep

eventually, these photos become lockscreens on her cell phone

constant and contagious laugh that makes you laugh to the point that tears come out of your eyes

picks you up for no reason

carry you on her back for no reason

when hugging, she ends up lifting you off the floor

maybe it’s to show how strong she is

likes it when you caress any part of her body

especially in the neck, where she's very sensitive

if she does something before you (like going somewhere first or watching an anime before), you have to deal with her saying she’s your sunbaenim

finds it adorable when she gets irritated by silly things (like forgetting a word, for example)

piercing ears together

wear matching piercing jewelry

hitting the "woah" for no reason

it ends up being your way of saying "i love you" when there's too much people around

sex with your girlfriend Olivia Hye:

you had your first time together at the end of senior year of high school

you were already in a moment of the relationship that kisses were getting hotter and hotter and hotter and...

although you both were inexperienced, it was even better for you to get to know each other's bodies together

especially with your mouth marking her entire neck and making husky moans come out of her throat

despite this moment, Hyejoo tends to be quite dominant

likes it when you sit on her lap

usually pulls you to sit

(she finds it more practical to explore your body with her hands when you are in this position)

tends to pay a lot of attention to your breasts

(and also loves to play with your nipples, even slightly)

she's veeeeery affectionate at these times, asking if it's hurting you or if it feels good to you the way she is doing it

but usually she doesn't say much more than that

although praising your body a lot after sex, while doing it you feel it coming through her hands

she loves to hear you moan in her ear

but she's audacious enough not to let you cum soon

after sex tends to be quiet

you lying on top of her or vice versa

Hye smiling like a fool but with a certain flush on her cheeks

kisses your hand, face, mouth

but she doesn't really talk much

maybe a mix of being embarrassed and of needing nothing more than being with you

your presence is more than enough for her. always

#loona scenarios #loona headcanons #olivia hye headcanon #olivia hye headcanons #hyejoo headcanon #hyejoo scenario #kpop reactions #loona imagine #olivia hye imagine #girlgroup headcanons

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wrenhyperfixates · 3 years

Text

Perfect

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: After much research and seeking out advice from Tony, Loki asks you on a date. Warnings: dialogue heavy and an adorably awkward Loki A/N: Thank you for requesting @akhansen2800! I hope you enjoy :)

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

The common room was a mess, thanks to the trickster god. There was paper and books littered all over the floor. Not to mention bits and pieces from the computer he may or may not have smashed against the ground. It really was hardly his fault, though; it was the insipid machine that dared defy him.

“Woah, Reindeer Games,” Tony said, walking in, sidestepping the junk on the ground. “Did a tornado hit or something?”

“Oh, very funny, Stark. If you ask me, it is an improvement over this drab decor you have picked,” Loki quipped, eyes never leaving the page he was reading.

“No, how could you! My heart, it can’t take this,” Tony overdramatically gasped, flopping on top of the papers strewn on the couch. “Goodbye, cruel world.”

“Your theatrics never cease to amaze me,” Loki sighed, finally looking up at the man he’d come to call friend. “And that says a lot, coming from me.”

“You’re right, it’s high praise.” Tony picked up one of the papers he’d crinkled from laying on top of. “What is all this, anyway?”

Just because Loki considered Tony a friend, didn’t mean he necessarily wanted to say what he was doing. He was still a rather closed off person and, in all honesty, preferred to avoid any and all talks about his emotions. Which, of course, brings him right back to why he’s sitting in the middle of this mess, anyway. His emotions, which, despite his best efforts, he did still have.

Loki stood up and stretched his muscles, achy from being hunched over his reading material for so long. He snatched away the page Tony was perusing, only for him to grab another one to skim. Realizing any effort to keep confiscating the papers one at a time would be fruitless, Loki moved it all to his room with a snap of his fingers. Then he sat next to his companion and began wringing his hands in that awful nervous tic of his. Truth be told, he could use some advice, but that only brought him back to square one of having to talk about his feelings. Tony leaned back on the couch while patiently awaiting Loki’s answer.

“I was doing some research,” Loki finally admitted. “On some Midgardian things.”

“That’s cute, Reindeer, but you could just ask me. Or maybe Peter if it's a pop culture thing.”

“It is not.” Loki wondered how much he could beat around the bush before he either had to give up on the conversation or genuinely say what was wrong. “It is just something I am not entirely sure how to go about.”

“I’m great at giving advice.”

“No, you are not,” Loki rolled his eyes.

“Sure I am!” Tony exclaimed, feigning hurt. “How would you know, anyway? You’ve never actually asked me for any.”

“Maybe not, but I have seen the way you live your own life, Stark.”

“That’s entirely different,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Come on, give me a chance. Fire away, I’m ready.”

Loki merely rolled his eyes again, though he was actually considering it. He hated to admit it—he really hated to admit it—but Tony had become somewhat of a father figure to him. That was absolutely ridiculous, of course, considering how Loki was a thousand years older than the man. But after his childhood, he’d be silly to reject that kind of relationship. Loki supposed that if he had to go to anyone with this problem, Tony wasn’t a terrible option. Besides, he should probably let himself be emotionally vulnerable very once in a while, right? That was supposed to be good or something, he thought. So, he steeled himself, and told Tony his issue.

“There is this Midgardian that I know. They are very sweet and kind and perfect... I mean, they are as bearable as a Midgardian can be,” Loki covered up, blushing slightly from how much he had just revealed. “I would like to ask them to spend some time with me, but I am not sure how.”

“Awww, you have a crush,” Tony cooed. “How sweet. You want to ask them out.”

“No,” Loki protested, stubborn as ever. Tony just raised his eyebrows at him. “Ok, fine! Yes, I would like to take them on a date, but I am dreadfully lacking in knowledge on Midgardian dating etiquette.”

“You’ve come to the right place,” Tony grinned. “Oh and take notes.”

And so, Loki spent the next two and a half hours listening to Tony ramble on. Most of it was just him going on rather useless tangents about his own endeavors in love. The God of Mischief rolled his eyes so many times, he began to fear they might roll out of his head. His notes, at least, were pretty amusing. Ok, to call them notes may be a little generous. They were mainly silly doodles of Tony monologuing, with the few helpful things he said jotted in the margins. He got so invested in one of his little caricatures that he didn’t even notice Tony stopped speaking.

“Hey, that’s not what I look like,” Tony pouted, peering at the drawing.

“Well nothing you were saying was helping, Stark.” Loki put the note pad in one of his dimensional pockets. “I am not like you. I am not a flashy person when it comes to matters of the heart.”

“Oh, so you want to go the be yourself way. You know, the sappy speeches and flowers and chocolates direction.”

Loki perked up a bit. “Yes. Yes, that sounds splendid.”

Tony sighed and gave Loki a list of movies to watch. And told him to speak from the heart. That troubled Loki; no one ever really cared to listen to him speak before. But, he dutifully watched all the assigned movies, supplemented by some of the books he was still combing through.

After a week of preparation and many, many drafts of a speech to say to you, Loki was finally ready to ask you out. Donning his best Midgardian suit, he walked out of his room, greeted by a bright flash of light. Tony was standing there, camera in hand.

“Look, at my little boy,” he fake cried. “All grown up.”

“Stark, will your antics ever stop?” Loki looked at the camera out of the corner of his eye. “And delete that photo, I was not ready.”

“Nope. It’s payback for all those unflattering doodles. Now, go get ‘em, Reindeer. Remember: Just be yourself.”

Easier said than done, Loki thought as he called upon his seiðr, teleporting to your street. You were an employee at Stark Tower; that’s how the two of you met. Loki had been looking for his brother, his search taking him into the cafeteria, one of his least favorite places in the whole building. It was always too loud and populated for someone who liked his silence and solitude. The sheer number of people in the room was overwhelming to the god that day, but he needed to speak with Thor, and he’d searched just about every other place his brother could be. He could not spot him in the crowd, but his eyes landed on you, off near a corner at a table alone and reading a book. He cast one last nervous look around the room before heading towards where you were, his social anxiety kicking in.

“Hello,” he said after clearing his throat.

You looked up at him with a dreamy sort of gleam in your eye that revealed how enchanted you’d been with your book. It gave Loki a little boost of confidence to know that that happened to you, too. That you could get so lost in a story that the world around you disappeared. It calmed his racing heart a little.

“Oh uh, hi,” you greeted with a chipper smile. Then more nervously, added, “It’s Loki, right?”

“Yes, that is correct. Loki of Asgard, pleased to make your acquaintance,” he said, sweeping into a small bow. “And you are?”

You told him his name, extending your hand for a shake. “How can I help you?”

“I am looking for my brother, but I cannot find him. You have not seen him around, have you?”

“I actually did see him earlier, though I’m not sure- Wait!” you suddenly exclaimed, and Loki followed your gaze. “He’s over there.”

Loki gulped. Of course his brother was at the table in the center of the room, surrounded by people. He really needed to talk to him about a mission, but the thought of going over there was making his stomach feel queasy. He tried to take a step forward, but his feet were apparently glued to the floor.

“Hey, if you’re nervous about going over there, I get it. Crowds can be scary,” you said, picking up on his subtle fidgeting. “The room usually clears out significantly in about ten minutes from now. I, um, was going to that little cafe over in the corner and get some tea or coffee, if you want to come.” Loki stared at you for a moment, unused to being invited places, especially by mortals he did not know. You seemed to mistake his silence, though, and rushed to assure him he didn’t have to. “Sorry, that was probably stupid. You’re under no obligation to say yes, of course. I understand.”

“No! I mean, yes.” He sighed and mentally smacked himself. Ever since moving to Midgard, his silver tongue was not what it used to be around strangers. “I mean, no that is not stupid, and yes, I would like to go to that cafe with you.”

And go to that cafe you did, launching into an animated conversation about reading. Loki even made you laugh, which felt like a huge accomplishment to him. The both of you sat back down at your table with your warm drinks, still chatting. There were very few people Loki ever felt so relaxed with, especially so soon after meeting them. You didn’t talk about anything groundbreaking, but he enjoyed talking to a kindred spirit. Somehow you even got a smile tugging at his lips, getting wider by the minute.

True to what you’d said, the room noticeably emptied nearly ten minutes later. With only a few people left and after such an amazing conversation, Loki was sure he could go grab his brother out of the room. But that was the problem; the conversation was too amazing, and he didn’t want it to end. And it seemed you didn’t either.

“Hey, um, maybe this is weird, but do you maybe want to talk again sometime? Like if you ever need a friend or are bored or anything?” you ventured.

“I would love that,” he genuinely replied.

You quickly wrote down your number and, after double and triple checking it, handed it to him. He tucked it safely away in one of his inner pockets before getting up and you bidding you goodbye. Then, in a better mood than he’d been in in a long time, Loki waltzed over to Thor’s table and successfully extracted him from the few people still clinging to his every word. He glanced back at you one last time before exiting, and you gave him a small, somewhat shy wave. He returned it along with a smile.

Loki kept that all in his heart as he walked up to your door, finger hovering by the bell for a minute. Maybe this was silly. No, this was definitely ridiculous. But, if he stood here any longer, your neighbors would probably think he was some crazy person.

Really, he shouldn’t be so nervous. You talked all the time since that day of your first meeting, and you’d never seemed bothered by him before. Not even when he started bringing surprise morning coffees to your desk. Or when he started leaving you books he thought you might like. Or when he started giving you little hugs when you seemed down. In fact, you seemed touched by all that. But this was all so new to him, so different from anything he’d known before. What if he was reading it all wrong? Before he could talk himself out if it, he rang the bell.

He heard you shout that you were coming in response. He quickly adjusted his tie and then stood with the flowers hidden behind his back. He made sure to get a bouquet of your favorites. You opened the door and your mouth made an adorable little “o” of surprise before your lips formed a sweet smile.

“Loki!” you greeted, smoothing down your sweatshirt. “I wasn’t expecting you. Don’t get me wrong, though. It’s great to see you. Um, do you want to come in? The place is kind of a mess right now, but-”

Loki whipped out the flowers from behind him, making you cut out in surprise. He stared at his feet and nervously mumbled, “These are for you.”

“Loki, these are so beautiful. This is so sweet. Thank you.” You gave him one of those shy smiles that he loved so much. “I feel bad, I don’t have anything for you.”

“That is quite alright. I have come here to ask you something.”

“Oh! Ok. I’m all ears.”

Loki smiled at the Midgardian expression, calming him a little. “We have been friends for some time now, and I have thoroughly enjoyed every minute—nay, every second—I have spent with you. You are the most kindhearted being I have ever met, beautiful both inside and out. And thus, I find myself wanting something more than friendship, if you will allow it. My dear, sweet, darling little mortal, will you do me the honor of going on a date with me?”

“Oh, Loki,” you breathed. “That was beautiful. I would absolutely love to go on a date with you.”

He cheered on the inside, and you hugged him close. After you pulled away, the two of you stood there for a minute, smiling like dorks. It seemed to Loki that no matter how badly he wanted to say something else, the only thought occupying his brain was that you said yes. He could hardly believe you said yes.

“So, uh, what are we going to do on our date?” you sheepishly asked.

Loki’s face dropped. He couldn’t believe how foolish he was. “I do not know yet. I knew there was something I was forgetting. I am sorry, darling.”

“That’s ok, Loki,” you kindheartedly laughed. “Tell you what, there’s a bookstore with the most adorable little cafe in it, just a couple blocks from here. Why don’t we go there?”

“That sounds perfect,” he replied, his smile returning already. “How does tomorrow sound? I can come pick you up around noon?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

You stared at each for another minute, those same goofy grins that gave away how happy you were plastered on your faces. When Loki began to overthink how awkward he probably looked, he found it in himself to tear his eyes away from your beauty.

“So I shall see you tomorrow then,” he nervously said.

“Yup! See you then,” you replied, your nerves equaling his own.

After a quick hug and waving goodbye to each other, you parted ways. Soon, Loki was back home in the Tower, happily sprawled on the sofa, book in hand.

“Hey Reindeer Games,” Tony greeted. “So, how’d it go? Was I right, or was I right?”

“As much as it pains me to admit it, Stark, you were right.” Loki smiled to himself, already daydreaming about your date. “It was perfect.”

Loki found that after so much anxiety and uncertainness, there was finally one thing he knew; tomorrow was going to be perfect, too.

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shtern-and-art · 3 years

Note

"Skeppy will probably cry" "Bad will probably cry". Bish, screw, that I am crying!!!

This whole thing was bloody gorgeous and I wasn't expecting that ending. I had no clue what ending to expect but that was definitely better than any I could have hoped for. Forest spirit to soulmate your honour!

I was terrified that you were gonna leave it at the point where he loses the spirit and becomes mortal again. If you had I would be actively sobbing!!!! And oh my god, the art!!! I still can't get over how wonderful your style is.

Imma ask fun things because if I don't I'll sit in a puddle of emotion all night:

What's the first tech thing Bad will buy and how annoying will he be about it? Poor Skeppy trying to answer 101 questions about something he doesn't really use XD.

Is no one concerned that the odd couple from a town they never name has a pet wolf??

Do they immediately go over to a different town or do they wander for a while. Find hidden creeks and befriend bears?

Does Bad still have a connection to nature and animals, like are creatures naturally more trusting of him?

Do they ever visit the og town again?

Does Skeppy still cause absolute chaos in other towns or has he learnt his lesson and only causes minor trouble now?

Does Bad ever try and study again? If he did what would he study and would Skeppy try to study as well?

Does Skeppy steal? I dunno, he just give off the vibe of a naughty lil trickster who'll pocket something if the owner refuses to sell it him.

Immediately after leaving the forest what the first 'argument' they have (not including the car one)?

Would they ever ride horse? If yes, how terrified would Skeppy be?

Skeppy falls outta tree. I don't know why but my mind keeps telling me that this man has great balance until he climbs trees. They are his mortal enemy and Bad finds this both hilarious and terrifying because he is going to hurt himself.

I had waaaaay more questions than I intended to have. My bad '^_^ but this story was way too much fun to read and you are entirely to blame for making it so engaging!

Make sure to take care of yourself and do stretches after and during drawing. You don't wanna hurt yourself <3

AaaaI’m so glad you liked it! :D And, dang, man, I cried while writing that part too :D

And I promised a nice ending for the main story, I did, and this one also makes the most sense narratively! For the story I wanted to tell, at least. Bad can’t really become human again, he’s changed to much. He can only move on, and do something with what he is, and has. And he did! :D That’s really nice and inspiring, this story will always have a place in my heart, heheh <3

Being a guardian spirit connected to a person and all, Bad may be not as strong as before, but he can’t die unless Skeppy dies first. And Skeppy can do that, but he’s pretty sturdy, and his lifespan operates on a whole other scale than human ones. And Bad knowing Skeppy’s real name balances it all out, makes them equal in the power and influence they have over each other.

So hellyeah, soulmates for the win :DDD

I’ll answer all questions under the cut, and this close up from one of the pages!

1) What's the first tech thing Bad will buy and how annoying will he be about it?

Probably a pager! Because it’s a more feasible thing to get than a wholeass computer Bad actually wanted :D An it means Skeppy will have to get one too, and that Bad will be having the time of his life texting him and everyone he can get a number from, even if they’re still in the room with him.

Poor Skeppy indeed, he can learn to appreciate the pagers, and later phones, too, and computers, but he really has 0 idea on how it all works and why Bad is so fascinated by it all.

2) Rat and regular people

Oh, she can shapeshift, just like Bad! If they’re out with people around, she takes form of a puppy, and Bad can pass her off as a weird mix breed rescue doggo.

3) Do they immediately go over to a different town or do they wander for a while?

Oh, since they have no end destination in mind, they can ride around for a bit, go visit some cool places and roadside attractions. Sadly, Skeppy is probably not spiritually or morally ready to full on befriend wild bears yet, and they do need money for gas and snacks. So, at some point they will have to stop somewhere and find work – at least for a bit, to save up. Life’s gonna be a bit complicated with all that, until Skeppy figures out his treasure-finding abilities :DD

4) Bad and nature and animals

He is definitely still in tune with all wildlife! Even more – Bad could become a proper guardian spirit for Skeppy in part because, in a way, Skeppy himself is part of the nature.

So yeah, Bad can understand animals (and plants) and communicate with them; they’re just more free to not take his shit, and Bad’s emotions do not “possess” them unless he makes an effort to do so.

He doesn’t like doing it, tho.

5) Do they ever visit the og town again?

Hm, I think they will completely forget about it for a while, until, like, 30+ years later they will be going somewhere, and find themselves around those parts. And they try to not appear too often in the areas they’ve spent a lot of time in already (they can be pretty recognizable, and also barely show signs of aging). But it’s been a long time, and the town’s really different now… So they make a stop, and spend a day there. They walk the unfamiliar streets between the new buildings, check out the popular hiking trail, the advertisements for hot springs and winter activities. The old cinema is still there, and is hosting an all-night marathon of classic horror movies of the last century.

Bad and Skeppy leave the town after sunset – the day was nice, but they have nothing more to do there. They ride through the forest on a well paved road, with radio playing something barely above the whisper. And in the dark of hot summer night, Bad can see the white stag running between the trees alongside their car. Shadows dance over the shimmering light of it’s fur.

Somewhere after the towns border, the stag disappears back in the forest. But the air in the car stays light and fresh, saving the smell of old pines and dry leaves all though the night.

6) Skeppy and chaos

Well, after the whole mess in the main story, Skeppy definitely learned some lessons, especially about not being a dick :D

But the thing is – he can’t really help the fact that things tend to stir up around him a lot. He naturally brings in chaos into everything, because he is, in part, a personification, or an outlet for it in the world. And so, to feel, well and good, and himself Skeppy gotta do stuff that disrupts balance, and creates some mayhem. And in gave him a lot of trouble in early life, but in the course of the main story he learned that he can chose were he lets that chaos to take hold, learned what can come of that chaos, apart from utter misery.

Like, where it can help dismantle something destructive, and where – bring in the more positive change, that was already brewing, possible, but is stagnant for some reason.

Soooo, I can’t say Skeppy causes only minor chaos in his life, but he sure learns even more about not being a dick :DDDD

7) The studying

I think Bad will want to get a higher education at some point, because he wanted to, and because it’s already new millennia and all that. Bet he’ll go for something very technical and/or literature. Maybe he’ll start by piking up some classes in small time colleges, when they stop in one place for a while, and later get into an online program, because why not.

Skeppy is not a college guy at all. He’ll listen to Bad talk about it, read textbooks if he wants to, can research stuff, buuut going to classes and doing homework is definitely not his thing.

8) Stealing

Well, you’re right, Skeppy can and will steal stuff out of spite! And will be scolded by Bad for it, and will not feel (that) sorry about it. But real stealer between them will be Bad himself :D

It’s just… he has the corvid tendencies, and a hoard (a box) of sentimental mementos from different people and events, and the thrill of stealing something small and harmless is very exciting. Bad is very proud of his little collection. Skeppy finds it very adorable, a bit hypocritical, and kinda creepy. Like, that pretty box he gifted Bad at some point is now full of stuff like:

- pressed flower from the clearing they had a picnic at on their anniversary

- the button the waitress lost that one day the storm caused a black out in the whole town

- some small animal bones

- couple pretty rocks Bad stole from Skeppy’s pockets

- penny that was once glued to the ground

- a handful of teeth people (and not people) lost in fights with Bad

- pen from some fancy hotel

- rainbow dash keychain that belonged to a child

- the list goes on

9) Argument

Oh, that same day they’ll fight over whether they should stay at the really crappy and suspicious looking motel, or go sleep in a perfectly fine forest near the road. Ironically, Bad wanted to try out the motel (because, yay, first time spending the night back in civilization), and Skeppy was the one insisting on sleeping in nature (because the motel looks like it could give you 10 diseases if you even stand near it, and sleeping in the forest is kind of nice, and means they can cuddle).

10) Horses

The guys will probably ride them at some point. Well, Bad will ride, and Skeppy will sit on his horse and hope it knows what to do and where to go, because trying to make this giant thing do something seems dangerous. If they’ll have to actually go somewhere fast, Skeppy will not survive that day, his butt (and legs) will be dead for days to come.

And riding with Bad on one horse may sound romantic and nice, but all romance dies when the gallop starts.

11) Skeppy and climbing

Skeppy is more down to earth kind of guy, more of a “rocks and caves” kind of creature, real-life lizard person or something. Up on the trees and in the air – not really his element, yeah. But it doesn’t mean that Skeppy will accept this fact easy. The embarrassment of never managing to safely make it down a tree is too strong, he just has to do it all over again, and again. And again. Because, clearly, he was distracted this time. And the time before that Bad was teasing him, and it “disrupted his flow”. And, really, maybe these trees here just do not like Skeppy much, and make him slip a lot. Yeah.

So, more often than not, if Skeppy climbs a tree, he will not stop climbing it until he falls, or the tree ends. Bad had to take him off high branches couple times, forcefully, because, of course, Skeppy was sitting there for 2 hours just to properly enjoy the sunset. He can climb down at any point, he just Choses not to. The view is amazing. The bark is literally part of his skin now, not because he holds on tight, no, he’s just Than Much one with the nature )<

---

Don’t apologize for the questions! It’s always so fun to answer them, and it makes me think more about stuff I may have skipped, or didn’t think about before. It’s really nice :3c

Again, thank you for the ask, and for being here for this story! <3

(And I’ll try setting timers for rest breaks while I draw, mb that will help)

---

In The Dark - masterpost

#mcyt #mcyt fanart #badboyhalo #skeppy #skephalo #In The Dark #it's so hot here #my laptop's keyboard is like a stove #=c=#shtern talks

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thefactsofthematter · 3 years

Note

hi bestie <3 you said send in some requests, so i'm suggesting:

javid with, "it's not okay! you're not fine!"?

i hope you have a good day !!!

hi bestie <333 i had so much fun with this, i haven't done a short little fic in ages!! here's a 2.7k javid fic - a college au and a classic (emotional) hurt/comfort type deal, heavy on the comfort ;)

"Wanna come for dinner at my parents' house tonight?"

Davey is laying on Jack's couch after his last class of the day, since Jack's apartment is just off campus, and it's a ridiculously convenient place to go nap after a long day of school. He honestly spends more time here than at his own apartment that he shares with his sister, a short train ride away.

"I'd love to," Jack replies, his gaze still glued to his computer screen, "but I totally forgot I have an art history paper due at midnight, analyzing a painting, and I haven't started. It needs to be ten pages, and I don't even have an outline. I'm gonna sit here and write until my eyeballs fall out."

Davey laughs softly.

"That sucks. Do you at least have some research done?"

Jack turns to him with completely dead eyes.

"Not a single academic source."

Davey glances at the clock. Jack has seven hours to pull this off, which is doable, but... intense. It would've been a lot easier to spread it out over a few afternoons, and it'll be a painful squeeze to get ten comprehensible pages of writing done tonight. Jack can write decently fast, but his spelling and grammar are atrocious, so he'll have to factor in editing time too. Davey is not envious of these circumstances in the slightest.

"Shit. Good luck. That sounds awful, but I'm rooting for you. What's your prof's late assignment policy?"

Jack, entirely beaten down, leans forward to rest his forehead on his keyboard.

"He won't accept them past the due date without a good reason... which I don't have. I'm just an idiot and forgot to put it in my planner— thank god Romeo texted me today to ask if I was done."

Davey pushes himself up and walks over to where Jack is sitting at his little dining table, under the constantly-flickering fluorescent bulb. He wraps his arms around Jack's shoulders and kisses the back of his neck.

"You got this. I'll come back here after dinner and bring you leftovers, okay? My mom's gonna be sad you couldn't make it, so she'll totally pack up a plate for you."

"You don't have to come all the way here," Jack sighs. "Your place is closer to your parents, and this is out of your way— you have work in the morning anyways, so you should go home and go to bed. I'll be fine, I'll probably write faster alone anyways."

Davey kisses him again, this time leaning around to plant one on his cheek.

"If you're sure." Jack's plan is probably the smart move, since Davey's shifts at his stupid coffee shop job start ridiculously early, and coming here would mean staying up with Jack until he finishes, probably distracting him. "In that case, I'll see you tomorrow after work, and I'll bring the food then... keep me posted about the paper, text me when you finish. And make sure you eat something."

Jack turns back to look at him with a strained, stressed attempt at a smile.

"For sure. Go have a nice time with your family, and tell everyone I say hi."

"Aba, you're doing it wrong. You have to use your left arm."

It's getting late in the evening, dinner has been eaten, and Les is trying to coordinate the family to make a TikTok with him. It's not exactly going well.

"My left or your left?"

"It doesn't matter, we have the same left!"

Davey has thankfully been placed in the back row, both because he's tall and lanky, and because he's so uncoordinated that Mom used to make you wear one of those leash backpacks as a kid to keep you from wandering into traffic... which is true, but Davey isn't sure why Les even knows about that. He certainly wasn't around yet when that was the case, so he probably heard it from Sarah.

While Les tries once again to explain how this little dance is supposed to work, Davey's phone starts to buzz in his pocket. It's probably a spam call, but he's not particularly invested in the dance lesson so he pulls it out to check.

Incoming call: cowboy babyy 💖🤠

Davey frowns. Jack never calls him. It's always texts or voice memos, since he's got some kind of weird aversion to talking on the phone. If he's calling, it must be important.

"Hi babe," he says, pressing his phone to his ear and walking off to his old bedroom to get some quiet, while Les shouts at him in the background for not taking this seriously. "How's the homework going?"

Jack is quiet for a second too long as Davey toes the door shut.

"...Not great. I'm really frustrated." He pauses and sniffles a little, sounding almost like he's holding back tears. "I don't know why I called you while you're having a good time with your family, though. I shouldn't be bugging you."

"Hey," Davey breathes, "you're not bugging me at all, sweetheart. Is the paper not going well?"

"I just... I'm so bad at writing, and I don't know what I'm talking about, and I have no idea how I'm gonna get this done in time." His voice is shaking, and it's breaking Davey's heart a little. "I'm being dramatic, though. I just need to keep working on it."

Davey sits down on the edge of what's now a guest bed, his old outer space-themed comforter replaced with something more neutral.

"You're not dramatic, it's okay to be upset. Do you want me to come over and help?"

Jack's breath hitches softly, and it confirms that he's almost definitely crying.

"You don't have to, you're busy with your folks. I'm sorry for calling." He shudders a little as he must try to take a deep breath. "It's okay... I'm fine."

Davey sighs, almost exasperated with Jack's self-sacrificial sense of pride. He'll never ask for anything for himself, not wanting anyone to go out of their way for him, even when he seems to be having a panic attack of sorts.

"It's not okay; you're clearly not fine, Jackie," he replies. "We already ate, and I'm not busy. If you want me to come over, I'll be there... do you?"

Jack is quiet for a moment again, taking a deep, shaky breath.

"Yeah. I do."

Davey nods, though Jack can't see him.

"Okay. I want you to take a little break from writing until I get there, alright? Change into your pyjamas and have a glass of water. Try to relax a little."

"Okay... thanks Davey."

The call ends, and Davey rejoins his family while tucking his phone away in his pocket.

"I have to go." He kisses his mother on the head as he walks by. "Thanks for dinner, Ima."

"Is everything okay?" she asks, catching him gently by the elbow before he can get too far.

"Yeah..." he sighs. "Jack's just having a hard time with homework, I'm gonna go help him out."

His father ruffles his hair and gives him a quick hug.

"You're a good boy, David. Take him those leftovers— your mother's cooking can fix anything."

"For sure. I'll see you guys next weekend, and I'll try to bring Jack along then."

He waves goodbye to Sarah and Les, grabs the dish of food, and then sets off on a speed-walk to the nearest subway station.

Jack is sitting on the couch when he arrives, his knees pulled to his chest, looking very soft and cozy in pyjama pants and one of Davey's old hoodies from some baseball tournament. He's staring into space, and he hardly even moves to acknowledge Davey's presence when he walks in.

"Hey darling." Davey leaves the dish of food on the counter and crouches down in front of Jack to try and catch his eye-line. He carefully takes Jack's hands in his own. "Hanging in there?"

Jack finally looks at him and nods, but as he blinks, more tears slip out and roll down his cheeks.

"I'm only done two pages," he mumbles, practically whispering. "I don't know why it's so hard, but I just can't do it."

"Oh, Jackie..." Davey reaches up to wipe Jack's tears, cupping his face gently with both hands. "Hey, you still have three hours, right?" Jack nods. "That's lots of time. We're gonna figure this out... let's just sit here and calm down a little first. It's gonna be okay."

He climbs up onto the couch to pull Jack into a hug, and the moment he's settled, Jack wraps his arms around him and breaks, sobbing into his shoulder. Davey cards his fingers through his hair and rubs his back; he's never seen Jack this distraught, especially not over homework. There's a good chance the problem runs a lot deeper, and stressing over an assignment was simply the last straw.

"You're alright," Davey continues, since talking is what he does best, even in moments like this. Jack is shaking with the force of his tears, breathing so hard Davey worries he might hyperventilate. "Listen, it's just one assignment, my love... if you get a bad grade, or if we don't finish in time, we can deal with that. We'll hand in whatever we finish tonight, so at least you won't get a zero. Worst case scenario, you retake this class in the spring... even that doesn't sound so bad, does it? I know you could handle it, if that's what happens."

Jack nods a little, but his tears don't stop.

"I'm so tired of being stupid," he hiccups, after a long while. "I keep getting distracted, and I can't word things right, and I spell everything wrong, and- and maybe I should just drop out, because I'm clearly not meant to be doing this."

"Baby..." Davey sighs, giving him a gentle kiss on the temple. "You're so intelligent, Jack. You're almost done your degree— after this term, you've only got one year left, and it's not like you do poorly in your classes, is it? Even when it's something hard for you, like writing, you always do well when you put in the work. What did you get on your sociology paper a couple weeks ago?"

"Ninety percent," Jack mumbles, muffled by the way he's speaking into Davey's shoulder. "But I spent so long on it, and you edited it for me. I'm gonna fail this one. I can't do it in one night, and I can't write papers without your help."

"Well, I'm here to help now, aren't I?" He rests his hand midway through brushing it through Jack's hair and scratches his scalp gently, which makes Jack shiver and laugh quietly through his tears. "Right? And you can write, darling— all I do is fix up the spelling and grammar for you. The ideas and words are all you, just like when you give presentations and knock it out of the park every time. I sure can't do that."

Jack finally looks up at him.

"Yes you can. You get nervous beforehand, but when you do a presentation, it's always really good."

Davey smiles at him, now that they're actually looking at each other.

"It's hard for me, though. Just like writing is for you— but with lots of effort, you're really good at it. See my point?"

Slowly, a small smile spreads across Jack's teary-eyed face, and he nods. Davey feels rather accomplished with this development.

"I guess so." He wipes at his eyes and sighs. "Sorry about this. I'm such a mess."

"No apologies. I don't blame you for getting overwhelmed— you're in a tough spot here." He pulls Jack in for a quick kiss, which they both smile into. "I brought you dinner. Go heat it up when you're ready; I'll look over what you've written so far and see if I can come up with some more ideas to add on. We're gonna work together on it, okay? What painting did you choose?"

"The Martyrdom of Saint Matthew by Caravaggio," Jack sighs, looking almost forlornly at his computer on the table. "I have a lot to say about it, and lots of good stuff in my notes, but I just can't put it into paragraphs and sentences that make sense."

Davey nods, watching Jack as he stands up to go put the leftovers from Davey's family in the microwave.

"Well, I don't know anything about paintings, but if you talk me through it, I can help you put the actual paper together." He pauses as an idea dawns on him. "I'm gonna email your professor and ask about an extension— it might be a shot in the dark, but we should at least try. The worst he can do is say no."

"Sure," Jack replies from the kitchen, his voice still shaky. "He's a total hardass, though. Fingers crossed for a miracle."

Davey sits at the table, opens up Jack's email, and starts a draft.

Hi Professor Diaz,

Apologies for the short notice, but I'm wondering if it would be possible to have an extension on the analysis assignment, even if it's just by a few hours. I unfortunately mixed up some due dates in my planner, and I thought I had an extra week for this assignment; I only realized the mistake today, so I'm currently scrambling to get it done in time.

Would it be at all possible to turn it in a few hours late, just to have a bit more time to finish it up? I would really appreciate any amount of time you're willing to give me.

Thank you in advance for your understanding, Jack Kelly

He shrugs, sends it, and sincerely hopes a little professionalism and a decent (if slightly fabricated to make Jack look less forgetful) excuse will go a long way.

It's quarter to eleven, the paper is now five-and-a-half pages long, and Jack isn't crying anymore. He's in the zone, talking aloud about the painting while Davey helps him get his vague ideas into concrete sentences, and they're on track to have at least seven or eight pages by the time midnight rolls around— it might not get full marks, but it'll be better than nothing.

Jack's computer dings with the sound of a new email while they're taking a two-minute break— something they've interspersed every half hour, since Jack's focus is best in shorter bouts. He's in the middle of walking laps around the apartment to get his energy out and annoy his downstairs neighbours, but he scrambles back to the computer at the noise.

"We got a reply!" he shouts.

Davey is over on the couch, and he watches Jack's face closely as he opens the email. So far, so good... and then he slumps down in his chair in a show of what could either be defeat or relief. Davey can't quite tell, so he jumps up to go read it for himself.

Sure. Email it by 11:59pm tomorrow.

Sent from my iPhone

"Yes!" Davey shouts, grabbing Jack by the shoulders. "I told you it was worth a shot!"

Jack laughs, and then reaches up to pull Davey down for a kiss.

"You're the best, Jacobs. A fucking lifesaver." He rubs at his eyes, and then pushes his computer away, across the table. "I'll deal with this tomorrow. Let's just go to bed— you still have to be up early."

Right. Davey has a dreaded Saturday morning opening shift tomorrow— they open at five, and he has to be there well in advance to get set up, so he's got no chance at getting more than a few hours of sleep. He's going to be dead on his feet in the morning, probably fuck up a few coffee orders, but it'll be worth it to have helped Jack through tonight.

Poor Jack seems completely exhausted— as anyone would be after crying so hard earlier— so collapsing into bed after washing up quickly is an utter relief. Davey, despite being tall and long-limbed, greatly enjoys being the little spoon and Jack is happy to indulge him, so they curl into the familiar position.

"Thank you for everything tonight," Jack whispers, practically into Davey's ear. "I love you so much."

Davey smiles as his eyes fall shut, and he kisses Jack's knuckles softly, where his arm is wrapped around him.

"Any time, darling. I love you too."

#both my current projects are slow burns so an established relationship fic feels good #hope u enjoyed it!!!#javid #jack kelly #davey jacobs #newsies fic #my writing

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floralseokjin · 3 years

Text

final sleigh drabble #2

❛ it’s Christmas day night...❜

original oneshot here // drabble index here

kim seokjin x reader smut 4,179 words

It was Christmas Day night. You’d spent most of yesterday and today at Ana’s parents’ house. It was different to how your own family celebrated the occasion but lovely, nonetheless. Her family always made you feel welcome, no matter the instance, and you were really grateful that they’d let you spend Christmas with them, like you’d already said, because your parents were spending the holiday season abroad.

Now, just gone eight, you and Ana were getting out of an Uber outside a familiar house. Seokjin and Yoongi’s. You hadn’t seen your co-worker, since the weekend. The weekend of nonstop sex. You’d only parted because he had a train to catch, promising his mom he’d visit for a few of days before Christmas Eve. The sex had been so good it had taken him a while to remember said plans actually, and when he had, he’d unbelievably tried getting out of them just so he could stay and fuck you even more.

“You want to ditch your mom to continue getting your dick wet?” You asked him with severe judgment, both of you naked in your bed. It was Sunday morning. Yes, that was correct. He’d stayed over practically 48 hours nailing you over and over again. And then some.

“Don’t say it like that,” he whined, feeling instantly guilty. “I just don’t want to leave you. I’m having too much fun.”

“We can still have fun when you get back.” You murmured suggestively, running a hand down his chest. You were not ready to give this all up quite yet…

With a raised eyebrow, he seemed intrigued. “Even more fun than right now?”

“We can try.”

You hadn’t known if it was possible, the weekend had been very fun to say the least, but who knew. You’d definitely give it your all...

You’d spent the last few days messaging each other sporadically, but there hadn’t been too much conversation. You mean, you’d never talked a lot before the sex, so why would you start after it? But seeing his face right now, as he opened the door, you practically beamed.

“Merry Christmas, ladies,” he grinned, outstretching his arm to gesture you both to step inside.

Admittedly, you weren’t expecting him to invite you over tonight. He’d been back since Friday but you hadn’t made plans to meet again yet so when he’d text you this afternoon, asking if you and Ana would like to come hang out with Yoongi and him, you’d been surprised. Excited, yet surprised, but obviously you’d played it cool.

Ana had been a little reluctant. She had slept with Yoongi a couple of weeks ago after all – and hadn’t seen him since. But, obviously Seokjin had run this idea by him? They’d both decided it together, right? So it was fine. Plus, she needed to support her best friend. If she wanted you to get boned again, she needed to come! You couldn’t turn up on your own. Not that she needed much convincing after the initial unwilling... Secretly you thought she was hoping for a round two with Seokjin’s best friend... Who knew, maybe he was too...

Ana stepped in first and as you followed Seokjin pulled out a small piece of mistletoe from behind his back. He held it up between you both, taking you by surprise. A good surprise though. “Oh,” you uttered, wasting no time in reacquainting your mouths.

“He’s been planning this all day.” It was Yoongi’s voice, coming from somewhere ahead of you, but you both ignored him, kissing just a little longer.

Ana scoffed. “Surely no planning was needed. It’s holding up some mistletoe.”

“Mmm. I missed you,” Seokjin hummed, breaking away to snake an arm around your middle.

“I missed you too,” you grinned, aware Seokjin was dialling up the amount of yuck to piss your two friends off.

“Jesus, you guys.” Yoongi sounded like he was about to be sick. “I preferred it when she hated you.”

Seokjin turned to the other guy, sounding vaguely annoyed. “She never hated me. It was a misunderstanding.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, man,” Yoongi chuckled. “Ana, let’s leave them to it. I’ll get you a drink.”

You watched as they walked off together, towards the kitchen. Seokjin was the first to turn back to you, an eyebrow raised. “How much do you wanna bet they end up hooking up again?”

You were both on the same wavelength. It was obvious something was going to happen. “She hogged the entire bathroom getting ready.”

“Have fun, you guys,” Seokjin sang as Yoongi and Ana made a less that inconspicuous exit from the living room. It was three hours later. They’d lasted well, but obviously the need to get in on again had won.

Seokjin turned to you immediately, sat next to you on the sofa and gave you a wolfish grin. “Finally, we’re alone.”

You were no sooner in his lap, mouth glued to his. Moving your ass a little as you broke apart for a much needed breath, you felt the familiar impression of his erection. “You’re hard already?” You raised a judgmental eyebrow.

“Why do you sound so shocked?” He questioned indignantly. “My dick has missed you insanely.”

“Just your dick?”

It was a playful remark, you didn’t mean anything by it, but Seokjin lowered his gaze, giving you a small chuckle. Instead of answering he kissed you again, his tongue pushing its way inside your mouth as his hands gripped your ass and rubbed you against his groin. Instant pleasure zapped up your body and it wasn’t long before you were grinding on your own accord, fists clutching his white t-shirt, which you had to admit, outlined his chest perfectly – You’d been trying not to stare all night.

“Do you want to go upstairs too?” He panted against your neck, teeth nipping the flesh sharply and you bit back a moan. He was already so tuned into what you liked. “I really need to fuck you.” Pulling back to get your answer he saw the look on your face. “What’s that face for?”

“It’s turning into a sex party,” you moaned. You couldn’t all be having sex upstairs, it seemed... You couldn’t think of the word.

“An orgy?” Seokjin wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Behave.” You needed more people to turn it into an orgy.

Seokjin’s mouth was back on your neck, kissing down your throat, to your collarbones and he sunk his teeth into the thin skin gently, causing your breath to hitch. “Well, do you wanna fuck down here?”

His dick was so hard underneath you, you rubbed against it some more, despite your objections. “No! What if one of them catches us?”

“Don’t be stupid. Yoongi is definitely balls deep by now.”

You whacked his back and he yelped in surprise. “That’s my best friend you’re talking about.”

“I didn’t say who or what he was balls deep in.” His reply didn’t impress you and so he grumbled. “I wish I was balls deep in you right now... Don’t give me that look, it turns me on when you’re pissy.”

Unable to stop your grin, you leaned in. “You must be constantly turned on at work then.” Pressing your lips into his, you bit down on his bottom lip. His hiss soon turned into a moan – and then a whine.

“Let’s take this upstairs. There’s a bathroom between our bedrooms. It won’t be like our headboards are hitting the wall in rhythm.”

“Fine.” You couldn’t hold out much longer anyway, and you both made your way upstairs, yelping loudly when Seokjin slapped your ass. You glare didn’t do much to discourage him, laughing loudly as he wrapped his arms around your middle and directed you to the door to his bedroom.

“At least they’re being considerate and playing music,” he said, the music loud enough to block any other noise going on inside Yoongi’s bedroom... Thank God.

“I feel like I’m back at college,” you whined as you stepped inside Seokjin’s room.

“Huh? Did you and Ana make a habit of hooking up at the same time? Hot.”

You pushed his arm. “No.” Chuckling, he made his way to the bed, sitting on the end, but you were too preoccupied with checking out his room. It was a lot larger than you imagined, walls cream, some covered in artwork. His computer was the main attraction, multiple screens, an unnecessarily large gaming chair and some other things you weren’t familiar with, mainly character figurines. His bed cover was a grey check pattern, a throw draped over the end with a couple of cushions against the headboard. Very clean.

“Your room’s cute,” you commented.

“Cute?”

“Yeah.” Turning to look at him you smiled playfully. “So, I guess this is where you jerk your dick to fantasies of me.”

He scoffed. “I don’t need to fantasise anymore. I have memories stored away in the wank bank.” Tapping his temple with his index finger he looked more than impressed with himself.

“Gross!” You cried.

“Come here,” he groaned, fed up with stalling, and he leaned over and grabbed you, causing you to squeal. “Or are you just planning on being a cocktease the whole night?” The sound wasn’t like you – but Seokjin had become good at making you act in ways you weren’t used to so far...

Which is why you found yourself on your knees for him, sucking his dick, his jeans and underwear around his ankles. “Your mouth is fucking magic,” he grunted, head falling back, his perfect, thick neck on show as you glanced up. You felt the urge to take him deeper, pushing him closer and closer to the back of your throat, ignoring any noises of reluctance it made.

“Fuck.” Seokjin choked, his fingers running through your hair to collect it in his fists. “That’s it. Take it all.” He pushed his hips up, stuffing your mouth for a few gloriously unbearable seconds before easing up. You lifted off, half of his dick still in your mouth as you caught your breath. He looked down at you with half-lidded eyes that seemed to eat you up. “Do you like choking on my cock?”

Nope. He was not doing this. It was infuriating what his words did to you, and you immediately swallowed him again, ignoring the way your underwear stuck to your damp skin. He was going to have a field day when he felt you...

Gasping for air not soon after, you had no choice but to pull off him entirely, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You were drenched in spit, so was his cock. You watched him kick off his clothing, naked from the waist down and you made moves to follow, reaching for your shirt and pulling it over your head.

“Let me see those tits. I’ve missed them.” He murmured, and you complied, unhooking your bra to reveal yourself to him. His eyes instantly glazed over. Confidently, you cupped the soft flesh in your palms, massaging yourself, putting on a show, and as your thumbs brushed the hardened peaks that were your nipples he practically growled. “Oh, fuck. You want to end me.”

Laughing, you stood up, pushing your skirt off your hips, leaving you in just your tights and panties. He followed with his t-shirt, now fully naked. You’d never get enough of his body. “Come up here,” he whined. “Let me taste them.”

Sat in his lap, you let him grope you, his mouth making out with your chest like it could kiss back. The sensation was so intense you quickly became weak at the knees and you clung to his neck, grinding against his thighs like nobody’s business. Unable to take it any longer, his hands slipped behind you, into your underwear, and he felt the silky fabric with a groan. Soon enough he was wrestling with your pantyhose again.

“These fucking things. What the fuck. You’re doing it on purpose now.”

“Am not,” you insisted. (Maybe you were). “I need to keep my legs warm.” With a furious tug you heard a rip and looking down you saw his damage. “Seokjin! You laddered them!”

“Ugh. Just get them fucking off already, I need to feel you.”

Asshole, but wet and desperate you quickly pulled then off, giving Seokjin a great view of your ass in the process. The underwear you had on had a cut-out at the top of your ass, revealing a “cleavage” of sorts. He seemed to appreciate the sight very much, giving you a playful smack and now you were very confused. Was he an ass man like you’d originally thought, or a tits guy? He was probably both. Greedy.

You slipped the panties off too, settling back down in Seokjin’s lap, who instantly started running his fingers over your heat. You pulsed against him, desperate for some stimulation.

“I swear to God you get wet so easily.”

Says the guy who’d grown hard from a kiss? Okay... “Are you complaining?”

He shook his head. “Not at all. It’s stroking my ego.”

“Your massive ego.”

“Behave, or I won’t fuck you with my massive dick.” Okay, now he was just bragging. His smirk was annoying you. He looked way too sexy.

You were expecting him to finger you for a bit, make sure you were stretched out enough for him, but all he did was dip his fingertips into your entrance, content with what he’d felt and then he was shuffling out from under your body to grab a condom from his bedside drawer.

“God. I want to fuck you so much,” he muttered a few moments later, sliding the latex over his length as you securely sat on top of him again. You kissed him sloppily, letting him angle the head of his cock against your entrance. Impatiently, you pushed down, surprising yourself – and him – when you took him whole.

You sat there, both breathing heavily as you started to adjust to him, walls clamping down like no tomorrow, which must have been torture for Seokjin, if his expression was anything to go by.

“Shit. You got tighter,” he panted, reaching for your mouth again, trying to calm himself with kisses. You attempted to do the same, beginning to slowly grind back and forth, getting used to the full feeling. It wasn’t painful, just a little uncomfortable, but you were no longer scared of his monster cock. You’d had a fair few goes last weekend and you were now a near enough pro, so without further ado, you started moving for real. Up, until he was almost out of you and then down, slamming into him. You just about knocked the air out of Seokjin’s lungs, but he soon steeled himself, grabbing the tops of your thighs to keep you safe as you started bouncing up and down, riding his dick like it was the easiest thing in the world. In this moment, it was.

Seokjin started groaning pretty quickly, his jaw clenched as he watched your every movement, his chest and neck patched with red. You clung to his shoulders, anchoring yourself to him as you flung yourself back.

“Shit. Y/N!” He panicked, hands coming out to hold your lower back, afraid you were going to fall backwards off the bed. You were still sat on the edge after all, but of course he was strong enough to hold you tight, letting you lean back as far as possible to fuck yourself along his cock, the squelchy, sticky noise music to his ears.

“Mmm. I missed this cunt so much,” he moaned.

You wanted to tell him he was being a big baby, it had only been a few days but his vulgar words were having the desired effect on you yet again. You were like putty in his hands, especially when he started thrusting into you, meeting your movements with a thud. “I want you to cum on my dick.”

Fuck. You were so close, his words only helping, but by now you were getting tired; out of breath and sweaty. “Seokjin—!” You moaned, voice breaking at the second syllable, and you leaned forward, collapsing into his chest.

“Take it easy,” he murmured, hands dragging up your sweaty back. “Want me to take over?”

You grinned drunkenly. “No way, I’m enjoying myself too much.”

Seokjin chuckled, pressing his mouth into yours. “Make yourself cum.” He whispered against you, thrusting into you still as he grabbed your ass, digging his fingers into the flesh. “You can do it, Y/N. Grind on me like you mean it. Grind all over me.”

You listened, rutting into each one of his thrusts, holding on for dear life as your sensitive clit rubbed against his groin. You were both so sweaty and hot, your fingers sliding down his back, unable to grip on until you dug your nails into the skin. He hissed, thrusting into you harder. It seemed like Seokjin liked a little pain, too...

“Baby, go a little faster,” he panted, kissing your neck, and you sped up, grinding into him messily, chasing your high like something possessed. You were so turned on, so sensitive, it only took a couple more minutes, a strangled cry leaving you as you tensed in his arms, your orgasm rocketing up your body. “Ngh, fuck. Fuck.”

Seokjin stopped his thrusts, letting you gradually come down, and soon enough your body relaxed, almost turning into goo as the pleasure warmed its way all throughout you. You lifted your head up, staring Seokjin straight in the eyes, both of you panting like crazy, and without a word he lifted you, flipping you over, your back to his mattress before he crawled over you. He wasn’t done yet – and neither were you.

As he pushed inside you again, his hand found its way around your throat and he looked down at you carefully. “Is this okay?”

You nodded, voice hoarse as you replied. “Yeah.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d asked or done this – last weekend had been a lot, you still weren’t over it, and right now you were still so horny and desperate for him. You also really liked the feeling of his grip around your neck as he fucked you.

“Fuck,” you breathed, feeling him start to thrust harder, faster, his palm tightening around your neck a little. You folded your legs at the knees and widened them, wanting him as deep as possible.

“God, you’re so fucking hot,” he grunted, kissing your mouth in a frenzy, all tongue and teeth. His whole body was pressed into yours, pushing you into the mattress, his pelvis beginning to rub against your mound. You were still a little sensitive from your first orgasm, but you could already feel yourself a little needy for another. If he kept this up he’d have you coming again, and he knew by the way you started to meet each one of his thrusts, moans starting to slip from your throat – louder and louder. You hoped Yoongi still had his music on...

“S-seokjin,” you stammered, hands sprawled across his back as you felt that familiar sensation again. “I’m going to–ngh–”

He moaned in reply, pushing into your harder, using his pelvis to get you off, and you held your breath, willing your orgasm to come. Your walls clenched around him, making it harder and harder for him to drag his cock inside of you, but he fought it, continuing with gritted teeth until he heard you cry out, your body stiffening under his.

It wasn’t as strong as your last orgasm, but seemed to knock you for six, heady dizzy as you felt Seokjin kiss down your chest, slipping out of you carefully. His tongue circled one of your nipples, his hand cupping the other breast as he groaned softly. His erection bobbed against your inner thigh.

“Coming on my cock twice. You’re amazing.” He awed, lifting his head up to smile at you. He sounded drunk. You felt drunk.

“Well, I do try.” You joked, voice soft.

He chuckled, and then his voice grew serious, eyes large and black, still very much turned on. “Tell me what you want, Y/N.”

It was pretty obvious, his dick burning a hole against your leg. “Your cum.”

His eyes widened, obviously not expecting you to be so upfront, and you took great pleasure in that.

“Where?” He whispered. He didn’t bother to wait for your reply. “Mouth? Can I come in your mouth,” he asked.

Your stomach dipped with urgent need, and you nodded your head rapidly. “Yeah.”

He sat up instantly, moving to kneel over your face. He tugged the condom off, jerking himself off a couple of times before his eyes met yours. “Tongue out.” You obeyed, keeping your eyes open as the weight of his cock pressed against your tongue. “Good girl.”

Okay, that was new. He hadn’t called you that last week, and instantly you felt your gut squeeze. You sucked the tip of his cock, eager now for him to cum in your mouth. As you did so, he started jerking himself off, eyes fluttering closed as his head lolled back, Adam’s apple bobbing slowly. His movements grew quicker, matching his breathing and then he hissed, body tensing up.

“Fuckkk.” A couple of drops of cum landed against your tongue and you swallowed them, ready for more. You sucked him for all he was worth, your gaze never leaving his face, and even once he was done, you kept on lapping him with your tongue, digging the tip across the slit.

He shuddered, making a strained noise and he pulled back, his cock falling out of your mouth. “Shit. I’m sensitive,” he laughed, collapsing next to you. You were both out of breath and sweaty, but wholeheartedly satisfied.

“That’s gotta be the best yet?” You asked, grinning from ear to ear.

“I think you may be right.” He agreed, pushing his hair out of his eyes, exposing his forehead. You wanted to reach over and kiss him, but you stopped yourself. “You were riding dick like a pornstar.”

“Shut up,” you whined, pushing his shoulder. How embarrassing.

Laughing at your reaction, he sat up, propping himself up with his elbow. “If you want the bathroom I have one over there.”

You followed his thumb to a door on the right of his room. “An en suite? Very fancy.”

Seokjin shrugged. “Yoongi has the main bathroom, so.” You didn’t move, tired more than anything, peeing could probably wait. Seokjin’s brows furrowed together. “Are you okay though?”

“Of course,” you laughed. “I feel fricking amazing. I’ll be sad once this ends.”

As soon as you said the words you felt funny. Seokjin looked surprised, voice low with... what was it, concern? “Who says it has to end? Do you want it to?”

“...No,” you answered after a pause.

Truthfully you didn’t want it to end just yet, you were enjoying yourself, you were just unsure of what was happening between the two of you... You’d both confessed something back at the office last week but you were still uncertain what exactly it was. What had you been expecting? To fuck once and then that would be it? You liked having sex with Seokjin, it was fun, and you liked his company (most of the time). You liked him. He liked you. Maybe you didn’t need to put an expiry date on this thing. It was fine to see where it went. You didn’t need to turn it into a big deal. You didn’t need an outright answer for everything. It was fine to just live in the moment.

“I don’t either,” Seokjin smiled, looking mildly relieved by your answer.

“I just... when work starts back we won’t have much time to meet up like this.”

“I’ll make time, trust me.” He kissed you then, hovering over you, lips warm and soft, a far cry from earlier, and the thought made you giggle.

“What?” He asked bemused.

“You know, you turn pretty demanding when you get horny.”

He raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

“Like, bossy and all, I don’t know, domineering.” You shrugged, feeling a little awkward. “It’s hot.”

He smiled, chuckling softly as he kissed you again, a hand cupping your face. “It’s not too much?” He murmured.

He didn’t sound surprised by your revelation so something told you he was aware of how he acted. Which made it even hotter, to be honest.

“I like it.” You told him, biting down on your bottom lip.

Eyes darkening, he hummed, his gaze running down your body. “So how about I tell you to spread those gorgeous legs so I can eat dessert?”

You repressed the urge to laugh out loud. Dessert?! He was such an idiot. “Right now?”

“Yes. Right now.” Then he paused, rubbing his nose against yours, his tone softening. “Yeah?”

With a massive grin, you spread your legs. “Be my guest.”

A third orgasm? You weren’t going to turn that down.

#seokjin smut #bts smut #seokjin fanfic #bts fanfic #floralseokjin:writings #fic:final sleigh #final sleigh:drabbles

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