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colormepurplex2 · 4 months

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Falling In Love At A Coffee Shop | MYG

▻ Falling In Love At A Coffee Shop ↳ ArtProfessor!Yoongi x Artist/CoffeeShopOwner!f.Reader ⤜ Strangers to Lovers, Cozy Romance ⤜ Coffee Shop/Art AU | fluff, smut ⤜ Rating: MA ⤜ WC: 8,028 ⤜ Summary: It’s like clockwork; you receive the same online order every weekday morning at eight o’clock: large decaf iced Americano, picked up promptly shortly after. His face has become familiar, as a part of your routine as the hiss of the espresso machine. Until, one day, that routine takes an unexpected turn, and you find yourself getting familiar with more than just his face. ⚠️ Very mild language, panic over student/teacher potential date (reader is a student, but she's the same age as Yoongi, just taking classes later in life than most), oral m receiving, fingering, kissing, mild dirty talk, cum swallowing, confessions of the heart

A/N: This is part of my 'Heartbeat Melodies' mini-series, where I write fics that are inspired by songs. If you'd like to hear the song that inspired this, you can find it here! A special thank you to @downbad4yoongi & @moonleeai for their amazing beta services!

Can also be found on: Ao3 | Wattpad

“Large decaf iced Americano,” you call out, barely glancing up from behind the counter.

A deep, familiar drawl pulls your attention, “That would be mine.” It’s only familiar for the fact you’ve heard that voice nearly every day for the last six months.

Your eyes snap up from the tablet, where the next online order has come through, to meet warm brown ones. “I should have known,” you reply before you can think better to bite your tongue. Heat suffuses your cheeks. You pull your lips between your teeth to stifle the groan of embarrassment that begs to be released.

The man chuckles, absently using a knuckle to push up the hornrimmed glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know if I should be offended or honored by that comment. But, I guess I do come here a lot.”

Nearly every day for the last six months, at least. That’s how often he comes here—to your coffee shop. It’s tiny, barely big enough for a handful of small tables and chairs. But it’s yours, and you’re proud of it.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean for that to seem…” you trail off. Not sure how to finish that thought because you’re not entirely sure how you meant it or why you said it other than the fact you’re a bit frazzled this morning and apparently forgot your mouth filter at home. It was a late night last night for you. It's not an excuse, but still.

He waves a large hand in the air, dismissing your apology. “Please, it’s quite alright. I’ll take it as flattery; could use a little boost to my confidence anyhow.”

That almost makes you sputter in disbelief. There’s absolutely no way this man needs any flattery. Surely, he comes by it in droves. Because, well, he’s honestly so gorgeous it should be criminal.

His hair is fluffy, somewhere between charcoal grey and black, though the warm lighting of your cafe gives it a golden honey halo effect. The eyes behind his black-rimmed glasses are dark swirls of espresso that match his coffee order—a straight nose sitting above soft, pink lips that have a light glossy sheen to them.

As usual, he’s wearing a pressed slack and jacket combo, a cream-colored collared shirt underneath with a bold print tie. His choice of ties is what drew you to him in the first place, and made you pay a little closer attention to the mysterious man behind the large decaf iced Americano.

You clear your throat, daring to be bold, while it seems you’ve no filter to stop you. “Well, if you ever need further flattery, you know where to find me.” It’s clear that you give him an assessing once over, his eyes locked onto yours as you do so.

“Do you paint?”

The question throws you off, nearly making you drop the tablet in your hands. Your fingers flex against the case, your thumb brushing along the glass screen. Busying yourself with reviewing the next order on the screen, you turn, giving him your back as you decide how to answer his random question. You’ve never actually had a conversation with him; this man that you feel like you know yet is a complete stranger.

“Why do you ask?” you deflect as you go through the motions of scooping grinds and swapping out the portafilter for a freshly filled one. However, you know it’s not always polite to answer a question with a question; you’re just not sure how to decipher his curiosity or where it came from to begin with.

The bell above the door rings, and you wince as the espresso machine gurgles and hisses loudly as you mechanically pop a cup in the machine and hit the brew button. The noise fills the quiet space of the coffee shop. It’s not until the cup is filled, you’ve added two lumps of sugar, and you’re grabbing a lid that the man responds.

“There’s paint under your fingernails. Or, at least, what I would guess is paint.”

Glancing down at the cup in your hand, you take in the colorful myriad of flecks coating your skin. The colors fill the grooves of your knuckles and hug around the bed of your nails.

“Double espresso with two sugars,” you announce, ripping your gaze from your hand to the interior space of your cafe. A woman steps around the man, giving you a hurried smile as she holds out her hand to receive the cup. You hand it off. “Have a good day.”

Giving the cafe's inside a quick glance, you ensure all the customers within are taken care of. A college student is busy pounding away at their laptop keyboard in the corner, utilizing your free wifi. A half-empty cup of hot cocoa sits cold and abandoned beside them. A trio of friends sit at your only table big enough to seat more than two people, laughing softly and sipping hot lattes and teas. No one seems to need your attention; except the man still standing there, large decaf iced Americano in hand.

You lick your lips, a nervous habit you picked up after endless stressful nights pouring your heart, soul, blood, sweat, and tears into opening the small cafe. Most believed it would flop; others rallied to your side and helped your dream come true.

“Look, sorry if I’ve overstepped somehow,” he begins, but you shake your head, letting him know he’s not.

Gesturing at the wall behind the man, you finally answer, “In my spare time.”

He glances over his shoulder, eyes zigzagging across the giant unfinished mural covering the windowless back wall of the cafe.

“That?” he asks. “You’re painting that?”

It’s hard to decipher if that’s disbelief or awe coloring his voice.

“I am,” you answer a bit hesitantly.

“Wow!” he exclaims, a giant grin spreading across his face, crinkling his eyes at the corners. “I’ve been meaning to ask after the artist every time I come in and see something new added, I just uh,” he brings his free hand up and rubs it across the back of his neck, eyes dropping to the floor under his feet, “well, could never bring myself to.” It’s pretty, the way his cheeks take on a flush of color as his eyes cut to you from over the frame of his glasses. “It’s wonderful work.”

“Thank you.” You can’t help your own flush of shyness at his praise.

“So, uh,” he lifts his cup and gives it a swirl, the ice sloshing around inside, before taking a small sip through the straw, “I know you probably see it on the order, but for the sake of propriety, my name’s Yoongi.”

Min Yoongi, to be more precise, you know. It’s a name you’ve read so many times it’s ingrained in your mind. However, it’s still nice for him to offer it to you. Willingly establishing your connection one step further than his coffee order.

You feel so silly tapping the name tag on the front of your apron, but you do it before you can think better of it, mumbling your name as if he can’t read it for himself after you brought direct attention to it. “Sorry, I’m not normally so weird,” you give a shaky laugh, willing yourself to shut up before you chase him off from how awkward you’re being.

Something changes in his demeanor, his eyes taking on a light twinkle that sits somewhere between mischief and wonder. “I like weird,” he offers casually as if that doesn’t make your stomach swoop and your heart beat a little harder. “Maybe we can talk more about your art sometime. Maybe over dinner? Or lunch if dinner is too forward.”

If you were a cartoon, you’re confident your tongue would actually be tied into a jumbled knot right now with you frantically trying to talk around it, a comical scene for sure. Yet, there is no knot, just a thick feeling that you have to swallow past. “Um, yeah, sure. That would be great. Dinner…or uh, lunch. Both. Either one. Though, dinner might be better considering my hours.”

Yoongi glances at the vinyl hours printed on the front window by the door. They’re backward from his vantage point, but you assume he has no issue reading them, considering he turns back to you and asks, “How does seven work for you?”

“Tonight?” The beating of your heart lurches again, and you can barely hear him over the rushing in your ears.

“Yeah, if that’s not too soon. Perhaps next week, if that’s better? I don’t want to come on too strong. Or well, rather, what I mean to say is, don’t feel pressured.” You can tell he’s feeling hesitant now, trying to backtrack and offer you a way to politely decline his offer for dinner tonight. You didn’t mean to come off sounding so put out. You just weren’t expecting his request to be for tonight.

Mentally, you dig through your schedule. You’re not closing today. Marvin comes in at noon to help with the lunch rush, and then you leave at four to make it to your five o’clock class. It would be today of all days that your new art class starts. It’s the beginning of the fall semester at the local university, and you just so happened to decide to take a few art classes they were offering, the first of which starts tonight.

The class should only be around an hour long, with plenty of time to get home and change before the date. Is it a date? Or just strangers getting together to talk about art? Isn’t that what a date is anyway, though?

“Seven. Tonight. That would be great.”

“Okay, perfect. Can I pick you up? Or we can meet here if that works better.”

It’s endearing he’d offer, both picking you up and meeting in a familiar place. Considering you live above the coffee shop, though, it makes no difference. Though, he doesn’t necessarily know that.

“Here is fine.”

“Wonderful. Have you tried that steak house on the corner yet?”

“The new one that opened last week?” He nods. “I haven’t, no.”

“Perfect.” Yoongi smiles. “Here, at seven. Consider it a date.” His smile falters, and his brows pinch, forming a line between them. “Not that I…well, it’s not that…it doesn’t have to be…if you don’t want this to be a date, that’s—”

“It’s a date,” you confirm, giving him what you hope to be a warm smile to ease his mild panic. “I’ll see you then, Yoongi.”

“See you then,” he responds, tacking your name on at the end in his deep drawl. The way it sounds coming from his mouth should be added to one of those spicy erotica audiobooks you may or may not have downloaded on your phone.

Just as Yoongi is leaving, it’s like the world finally takes a breath, and the exhalation that follows brings with it a rush of early morning commuters seeking their morning fix. The everyday bustle and hubbub of the day filter back in, and you’re soon lost to the sway of the shop, coffee, tea, and cocoa. It all comes alive beneath your nimble fingers, much reminiscent of the way holding a brush makes you feel: a thrill of the soul with each pour.

☕☕☕

Yoongi

In all Yoongi’s years of teaching, he’s never been late to a class, especially on the first day of the semester. Yet, he’s nearly fifteen minutes late getting into his classroom this morning. Students are already filled in and scattered around the theatre-style seating. No one says anything. It’s far too early in the morning for smart mouths and snarky remarks about his tardiness. Not that he would expect that from any of the students anyway.

“Good morning, welcome to Art 320. I’m Professor Min.” He drops his bag and coffee off on his podium at the front of the classroom. Turning to the large chalkboard behind it, he scrawls his name to the side and then begins to write directions. “We will begin with Chapter 1, ‘Mediums and Forms’, in your textbook. Please read quietly, and I’ll be with you all in a moment.”

The day goes on, class after class, and the familiar monotony of it brings Yoongi a sense of peace. This is familiar territory; he’s in his element, not like this morning in the coffee shop. He felt totally out of control and swept up in the swirl of uncertainties and possibilities.

To say he’s relieved you agreed to go to dinner with him would be an understatement. From the moment he decided to change up his routine to check out the cafe Namjoon wouldn’t shut up about, he’s been hooked not only on the impeccable decaf iced Americano, nor the beautifully decorated and painted interior but on the smiling face behind the counter.

Yoongi feels a bit self-conscious thinking about how much he thinks about you. He’s always been too intimidated by the idea of speaking more than a few passing words to you. It’s like every time he gathered up the courage, it would abandon him at the last moment. Namjoon calls it a crush, Yoongi calls it frustrating.

The whole conversation this morning is a bit of a blur to him. Yoongi swears once he opened his mouth it was nearly impossible to stop the word vomit from gushing out…and the next thing he knew, you were agreeing to a date with him tonight.

The day's last class rolls around, and Yoongi feels much lighter as he steps out of his adjoining office and into the classroom to welcome the new students. A few offer him quiet hello’s, some he’s seen from other art classes he’s monitored across the entire department and fine arts program.

Turning his back as the last few students filter in, he makes the same spiel he has at the beginning of every class. “Good morning, welcome to Art 320. I’m Professor Min…”

And so it begins, the beautiful dance of teaching and introducing fresh minds to the concept of forms and mediums. Yoongi is sure he could recite the entirety of Chapter 1 from memory now, with as many times as he’s gone over it today.

“What if you decide you don’t like your form or medium halfway through the project?” a student from the front row asks after Yoongi explains the medium and forms requisite for the final project for this class.

“We’re going to spend plenty of time during the first part of the semester testing out different mediums to know which best suits each of your individual tastes and needs. Regarding the form, I recommend choosing something you most likely won’t tire of. Something that means something to you but also isn’t so complex that you frustrate yourself and burn out before you can complete the project. You’re welcome to, at any time, bring me an idea of the form you’re considering, and we can talk about the intricacies and any potential issues that might arise with using it.”

Another question comes from somewhere in the middle, “Can we choose people, too?”

“A form can be anything that inspires you. If that happens to be a person, then of course. However, note that portraiture isn’t covered until Art 322, but I’ll do my best to help if that’s what you choose.” Yoongi glances at the clock, noticing there are only a few minutes left of class. “Let’s take the last few minutes to wind down, pack your things. If you have any further questions concerning your final project forms and mediums, please don’t hesitate to email me. Also, my office hours are open Tuesdays and Thursdays from two to six.”

As Yoongi turns to begin putting his things away from his podium, his eyes slide across the faces of his last class students, trying to cram them into his mind for the sake of remembering. He always likes to be as personable and approachable to his students as possible; knowing names and faces is always a good place to start.

He has to do a double take as his eyes flick over the very top row. The shock is felt throughout his entire body. It’s not that he’s surprised to see a face he already knows. It’s just that he wasn’t expecting it…wasn’t expecting to see you. Mild panic makes him jerk around, hands gripping at the papers on his podium, shuffling them mechanically.

The first thought that crosses his mind is he can’t possibly be going on a date with one of his students. Surely you’re just here to…to what? He turns over one of the papers, quickly scanning his roster that he hadn’t bothered to check yet. It doesn’t take long for his eyes to snag on your name.

Unease settles across his shoulders. He hates to cancel the date, as he was really looking forward to it, but it’s just…not right, right? There’s a line he shouldn’t cross with his students, even one who he is sure is his age and not the typical college freshman. Yoongi knows this because maybe, perhaps, he might have spent his lunch hour googling you and the cafe. You’re in your early thirties, given the birth year that was viewable on one of your social media pages, and own the coffee shop, have for several years now…a full-ass grown adult—the perfect person to date.

Except now you’re his student. There’s some moral code there somewhere, something about the skewed power dynamic. The thought of going on this date should have red flags flashing in his mind. Yet…yet, no matter how much he tells himself to cancel, he honestly doesn’t want to. Surely, it wouldn’t hurt that much, right? A harmless date.

That’s what he’s still telling himself as he dismisses the class a few minutes later. He intentionally avoided looking in your direction, unsure if you’d be comfortable with him acknowledging you as one of his students or not.

Much to his surprise, as the bubble of sound dissipates, a soft voice reaches his ears from a few feet behind him, “Fancy meeting you here.”

Yoongi has been so consumed with his own feelings about going on a date with a student that he hasn’t even thought about how you might feel. Are you about to cancel on him? Does he try to convince you not to?

He slowly turns, the stack of papers clutched in his hands, glasses slipping down his nose, yet he doesn’t want to pry his fingers from the bundle to fix them. “Look, I understand if you’d rather not—”

“I’m fine as long as you are.”

He’s relieved for your interruption, for keeping him from saying those words out loud. “Are you sure? If I had known this morning that you’d be one of my students…” he trails off, because he’s not so sure that would have stopped him after all. Considering he’s wanted to ask you out for at least the last four months.

“I’m glad you asked me. Student or not. I promise not to make it weird if you don’t.” You give him a brilliant smile, coy and full of mirth but light enough to make his heart jerk inside his chest.

“No weirdness, got it,” he agrees, unable to help his own teasing smile.

“So, I’ll see you then?” you ask, hefting your canvas bag on your shoulder. His eyes flick to it, noting the splashes and swirls of fabric paint that cover the outside. Yoongi wonders if you painted it yourself.

He nods, letting his eyes drink you in one last time before you turn to go. You’re still wearing the same jeans and thin cable knit sweater from the coffee shop this morning. Even in such casual clothes, you are stunning. A work of art all your own. He doesn’t stop staring until the door to his classroom shuts behind you.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath. It’s not out of irritation or anger, just an acknowledgement of how truly and utterly he’s got it down bad for you.

☕☕☕

Seven can’t come soon enough. It only took you thirty minutes to get ready, putting on a simple black dress and flats. It’s not too fancy, but it makes you feel far more put together than just jeans and a t-shirt.

At five til, you make your way down into the coffee shop from your upstairs apartment. All of the main overhead lights are off, leaving only the warm accent lights that line the menu board and the display case lights on. Even now, the space smells delightedly of coffee.

It’s kind of funny, the fact that you’re not a coffee drinker. Everyone finds it odd that someone who doesn’t drink coffee would aspire to open a coffee shop. What they fail to realize is you love the smell of coffee. The warm, roasted, mildly sweet notes are what you thrive on, better than any shot of espresso in your mind.

There is a street lamp right outside your shop, flooding the sidewalk with a pool of yellow light. Standing just within the glow is Yoongi, his back to the shop door. You watch as his head swivels, looking down both directions of the sidewalk, completely unaware that you’ll be coming from behind him instead.

The sound of the lock turning over startles him. He jerks around and laughs softly, taking a step back, hand to his chest, as you pull the door open. “Can’t say I expected you to come from inside the cafe.”

“I would have been down sooner had I known you would be a bit early,” you say, locking the door behind you. “I probably should have given you my number or something.”

Yoongi eyes you, his gaze sliding up and down your body like he’s drinking you in. You hope he likes what he sees. “I think I was so excited about the date that I forgot even to ask,” he admits, giving you a sheepish smile when his eyes finally land back on yours. “You look,” —he gives you another quick once over, shaking his head and sinking his teeth into his bottom lip— “gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” you preen under his praise. “You look quite handsome, yourself.”

You’re not just saying that to return the compliment, either. Yoongi is wearing the same thing he was this morning, except the tie is loosened, and the top button of his shirt is undone, giving you the slightest peek at his prominent jugular notch.

“Shall we?” he asks, offering you his arm.

You slip your hand into the bend of his elbow, falling into step beside him. The walk to the steak house is short, just enough for pleasant exchanges. He asks how your day at the coffee shop went, and you ask after his first day of classes. Neither of you bring up the fact that you were part of one of those classes.

“I’ve been meaning to check this place out. I’ve heard excellent things.”

Yoongi hums, nodding his head at your words. “I’ve also heard good things, though it might perhaps be biased considering all the praise I’ve heard has come from the owner himself.”

“You’ve spoken with the owner?”

“He’s one of my best friends, actually. This will be the first time I try it out. I kept telling him I’d stop by, but it always got away from me.”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up. “I can’t believe you know Seokjin.”

“Wait, you know Seokjin?” Yoongi asks, surprised.

“I’d say know is a relative term. We get deliveries from the same produce truck. He tried to take my apples one time. I had to set him straight.” That makes Yoongi laugh along with you. “We chat sometimes, mostly about the quality of produce and the best places to get ingredients. I had no idea he was your friend.”

“Small world,” Yoongi says. His smile is warm and inviting. You’re sure you could get lost in it if he’d let you. It makes you wonder what his lips taste like. They have a slight sheen to them like they did this morning. Cherry chapstick? Maybe mint? A nice subtle vanilla?

You’re not sure the last time you laughed so hard you had tears in your eyes. But Yoongi has your sides in stitches and your cheeks aching from smiling and laughing so much during dinner.

“Oh gosh,” you wheeze between fits of giggling, clutching your stomach. “Ow, ow. Don’t make me laugh again. I can’t take it.” It just makes you laugh even more, the huffs trailing off as Yoongi reaches across the table toward you.

You pry your hands from your abdomen and slide them into his. His fingers are warm against yours, his thumbs rubbing across the backs of your knuckles. It’s a gesture he’s done several times tonight, silently asking for your hands any chance he could.

“Sorry, you just have such a beautiful laugh,” he says. “I could listen to it all day.”

His flattery hasn’t stopped. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think the two glasses of wine he had with dinner were going to his head. But, he speaks so assuredly and looks in your eyes like you’re truly something special.

Feeling so intimately connected with someone you barely know might be absurd. Yet, you can’t help but feel drawn to him. If you’re being honest, the attraction started long ago, and tonight has just made it blossom into something so much more.

Yoongi has been the perfect gentleman. He’s not tried to railroad the conversation or make decisions for you like other guys you’ve gone on dates with. Whenever a server approached the table, he would defer to you and your needs before his.

“You’ve been so wonderful to me tonight. Please let me repay you with coffee and dessert. If you’re up for it.”

Yoongi squeezes both your hands before letting them go and sitting back in his chair. “There is no need to ‘repay’ me,” he says, emphasizing the word repay. “But, I wouldn’t say no to a date after this date, say in fifteen minutes, coffee and dessert?”

“Fifteen minutes? Coffee and dessert?” You give him a thoughtful look, tapping your fingers against your chin. “Hmm. I think I’m available.” You both break into more fits of soft laughter, contrasting so highly to the high energy from before; it’s intimate, if laughing can be such a thing.

It’s easy being with Yoongi; he’s attentive and curious. “What made you want to open a coffee shop?” he asks as you unlock the door to the cafe.

“I liked the idea of having a space that could cater to people from all walks of life. Businessmen in a hurry? Get it to go. Students needing a place to study? I have a quiet corner for that. College professor looking for his daily decaf Americao fix? Would you look at that? I got that covered, too.” You usher him inside, closing and locking the door behind you. “It also doubles as a great place to have a private coffee and dessert date after a lovely dinner date.”

You watch as Yoongi looks around the cozy space, his attention ending on the mural wall. “What’s your favorite kind of coffee?”

“Would it be weird if I said I don’t like coffee?” you ask.

He glances at you from over his shoulder. “Really?”

You shrug. “I love the way it smells, though.”

“Acrylic?” Yoongi asks, nodding toward the mural.

“Good eye,” you assess, stepping behind the counter to start making the coffee. You grab two pecan cinnamon twirls from the dry storage where you keep extra treats to take up to your apartment at the end of each shift and pop them into the small convection oven along the back wall. “You teach art, but it might be presumptuous of me to assume you also create. So, do you?”

“Not nearly as much as I’d like to. Pastels and charcoal are my favorites to work with. I like the mildly messy, chaotic feel of them. There are few things better than the feeling of taking something so uncontrolled and turning it into a thing of beauty.”

“Charcoal, huh?” Your mind instantly goes to the framed collection of pieces you have in your apartment upstairs. “I can appreciate that.”

“Maybe I can show you sometime.” Yoongi turns from his appreciation of your mural to watch you work behind the counter. He gestures to a few frames hung up on either side of the giant menu on the wall. “Arfé, right?”

You glance up, moving with automated motions to load the portafilter into the espresso machine. “Oh,” you laugh. “Yeah. An experiment. I wanted to try something new and needed some new decor. I thought it was appropriately on theme.”

The half-dozen pieces are all made with swirls of various shades in brown and tan and depict a mix of cups, mugs, bags of grinds, lumps of sugar, and piles of roasted coffee beans.

“Very appropriate. They’re lovely. You’re an exceptional artist.” You’ve lost count of the amount of compliments Yoongi has paid you tonight. You might have been the one flattering him this morning, but it seems he’s making up for that now.

“Thank you. Truly. That means a lot coming from you.” The hiss of the brew machine fills the air, and the soft gurgle of espresso trickling into the small mug follows. “One decaf Americano for one of my best customers,” you say, carefully carrying the steaming cup over to a table beside Yoongi. “Please, sit.”

Yoongi settles at the table, bringing the cup of coffee up to his nose and giving it an appreciative sniff. “Wonderful,” he murmurs before taking a tentative sip. “Thank you, that hits the spot.”

“If you think the Americano is good, wait until you try this,” you say, scooping the twirls out of the oven and onto a plate. They’re perfectly warm and gooey. “You’ve never tried any of our pastries, have you?”

You sit across from him. The table is small enough that you could reach out and cup his cheek if you wanted, and set the plate on the table before Yoongi. He whistles low, “Wow, these do look amazing. Maybe I’ll become a pecan twirl and coffee guy every morning instead.”

Your eyes track his movements, watching as his fingers pinch and slightly sink into the edges of one of the twirls. Some of the warm glaze and cinnamon sugar filling squishes from between the layers.

Yoongi’s lips part and the tip of his tongue peaks over his bottom teeth as he brings the pastry up to take a bite. The moan he lets out surprises you both. His eyes flutter before landing on you and going wide. He chews methodically, his gaze not leaving yours. His tongue darts out, swiping over his lips before he swallows.

“Well?” you ask, settling your elbows on the table and leaning into him, expectant.

The smile that tugs at his lips is coy. “Might be one of the best things I’ve ever put in my mouth.” There is a heat in his gaze as his eyes search yours. “What other surprises do you have up your proverbial sleeve for me?”

“Now, if I told you, they wouldn’t be surprises anymore, would they?”

That makes him laugh. “Fair point. You know,” he glances around the coffee shop, “I never knew just what it was about this coffee shop I loved so much, but I think I’ve figured it out.”

“Yeah?” you say, feeling positively giddy.

“Mhm. So,” he mirrors your pose across the table, his elbows nearly touching your own, fingers toying with yours where they’re folded in the air in front of your face, “is it too soon to ask you on a second date?”

“I thought this was our second date.” You raise a teasing eyebrow, a smile quirking on your lips.

“A third then,” he offers, eyes hopeful.

Of course, you want to say yes. And in the spirit of trying to be coy and playful, you lean in with the full intent of showing him instead of telling him how much you want to go on another date.

Yoongi’s eyes flicker to your lips, watching as you deliberately lick them as you lean in a bit closer. Acceptance lies within their dark depths, a flash of hunger at the impending response that’s only a breath away.

As you advance, your elbows slide on the table, accidentally knocking the coffee cup. Liquid goes everywhere; it floods over the table and pours off the side…right into Yoongi’s lap.

“Oh fuck!” you yell, jumping up from the table and rushing around to his side. “I’m so sorry! Are you okay? Do I need to call an ambulance? Does it burn?”

Yoongi pushes back from the table, holding his arms up off his lap as he assesses the mess. “No harm done. It was already cooled off. It's just a bit of a mess, that’s all. I’m fine,” he laughs. “Truly, I promise. Do you have any towels or anything?”

“Oh god, your shirt, it’s going to stain,” you lament, staring at the dark splotch soaking through above his trousers. “Towels? Yes. Yes. Okay. And some baking soda. Come on, let’s hurry. Again, I’m so sorry!”

“Should we clean this up first?” he asks, motioning at the coffee-covered floor.

“I can mop in the morning. Please,” you fret, guilt making you a bit frantic and flustered.

Yoongi lets you lead him up the stairs in the back that go to your apartment. “You live here?” he questions. “No wonder you were coming out of the coffee shop earlier. That’s very cool.”

You make a noncommittal sound. “It’s cool if you like the smell of coffee and don’t mind rising early every day to open shop.”

It’s so hard to think right now, your mind solely focused on cleaning up the mess you’ve made of Yoongi’s clothes. That’s what you get for trying to be sly and answer his date question with a kiss. You’ll be lucky if he still wants that date now, surely.

The bathroom is barely big enough for the two of you. You insist Yoongi sit on the lip of the tub while you dig under the sink for the baking soda that you use for cleaning and removing your own coffee stains.

“Hey,” Yoongi says softly, grabbing your attention. You glance at him over your shoulder, bottom lip clamped between your teeth in an effort not to fall apart entirely. “I promise it’s okay, alright? You don’t have to stress over it. It’s just an accident. It's a pretty funny one if you ask me. If I’d have known we were getting wet on the first—I mean, second date, I would have planned accordingly.”

His words hang between you, full of static and charged with intention. He’s trying to lighten the mood…and it’s working. It’s also making you feel a certain kind of way. Words shouldn’t have the power to do that. Yet, here you are, flustered for a whole different reason now.

“Date’s not over yet,” you respond, unsure where the bold attitude came from, but you’ll take it. His eyes flicker with something like surprise mixed with desire, though it’s gone before you can really be sure. “Do you mind?” You gesture to his shirt. “It’ll be easier if I can soak it in the sink.”

Slowly, Yoongi undoes the buttons on his shirt, starting at the top and working his way down. Somehow, you weren’t expecting him to be naked underneath, but every open button reveals another swath of flesh. He shrugs out of the shirt, revealing a toned chest and taut belly. His nipples are hard, dark chips, standing out in contrast to his smooth, creamy skin. Yoongi is absolutely breathtaking.

In fact, you have to remind yourself to breathe, taking in a large lungful of air that’s so much it makes your chest ache. He holds the shirt out to you in offering. Your fingers tremble lightly as you take it, quickly turning back to the sink and the distraction of scrubbing at the stain.

Reading over the garment tag quickly, you make sure what you’re about to do is okay. You can feel Yoongi’s eyes on your back, like heated dagger points pricking beneath your skin. You turn on the water, letting the tap run until it’s hot, before quickly swishing the area of the shirt covered in coffee under it. The hot water alone makes a world of difference, the dark liquid swirling away down the drain.

“Do you want my pants, too?” Yoongi asks, startling you.

Your eyes flick up to the mirror, looking at him through the reflection. He’s talking to you, but his attention is zeroed in on your backside. Suddenly, you’re intimately aware that your dress has ridden up dangerously high. You can feel the cool air of the bathroom kissing the crease between your thigh and asscheek.

Turning off the water, you slowly turn to face him. Your chest rises and falls as you try to take deep, even breaths, but with the way your heart is revving inside, it’s impossible to do so. “Let’s see the damage,” you say lightly, raising an eyebrow in question, giving him a chance to call you off.

When he doesn’t comment further, you close the distance to where he’s sitting and ease down onto your knees. You mentally tell yourself it’s so you can get a better look at the coffee that’s saturating the dark fabric, but you know better than that.

Being so close to him, you can feel the heat of his body. His chest rises and falls as rapidly as yours, and when you look up and meet his gaze, there is no mistaking the fire that you see blazing there. “Don’t think I forgot you still haven’t answered my question,” he murmurs, lips barely moving as he watches you.

You lift a hand, hooking your index finger under his chin and using it to angle his face toward yours. “I’d love that,” you respond, your lips brushing over his with every syllable.

He kisses you. Or maybe you kiss him. It’ll be something you tease each other over for many years to come. You open yourself to him, welcoming the glide of his tongue against yours. The kiss tastes mildly of coffee, yet for the first time in your life, you don’t mind the flavor.

“For me to take my pants off, or the date?” he teases, alternating between nipping and consuming kisses. Yoongi’s hands frame your face, holding you to him as he continues to ravage your mouth.

“Mm, both,” you manage to get out. “Definitely both.” Sliding your hands down his torso, you marvel at the softness of his skin and the already very prominent bulge that your fingers dance over as you try to get a grip on the button to his slacks.

Yoongi breaks away from the kiss long enough to help you with his pants, standing up from the edge of the tub and bringing you up with him. He toes off his shoes, leaving his pants puddled on top of them. “Good answer,” he chuckles.

You let out a tiny squeal as he wraps his hands around the backs of your thighs and hauls you up, your legs automatically winding around his waist. Thick erection pressed right against your panty-covered pussy, he slowly walks you out of the bathroom and into your adjoining room. You land on the bed with a soft oomph, Yoongi following you down. His weight is a comfort, settled over your body in a warm, hedonistic embrace.

“I’ll change classes,” you pant, flexing your hips against his. “As long as our next date is to an art gallery.”

“Is it weird for that to turn me on?” he responds, groaning as you roll your hips against him again. “The art part, not the dropping classes part. You don’t have to do that if it’s too much trouble. I know your schedule must be pretty set with the cafe.”

You press your hands against his chest, giving him a gentle push until he’s rolling over and you’re hovering over him. “I’ll make it work. I want to make it work. Everything tonight,” you pause and sit back on your heels, dragging your hands along his torso as you do, “I want more. You’re driving me crazy in the best of ways.”

“Says the woman who’s been running through my thoughts for the last several months now.” Yoongi’s lips part in a gasp, turning his last word into a breathly plea as you trace the tips of your fingers over his straining erection. The fabric of his grey boxer briefs is slightly sticky when you brush your thumb over the head.

“It reminds me of making art,” you casually say, curling your fingers over the waistband of his underwear and tugging until he lifts his hips and lets you drag them down. You toss them to the side, marveling at the glory now resting against his belly. Yoongi’s cock is a gentle upward curve, all smooth steel and thick veins. It throbs, bouncing against his stomach, leaving behind a thick smear of precum. “The way you make me feel.”

“Art?” he asks, breathless. His eyes flutter behind his glasses, his chest hollowing as he sucks in ragged breaths.

“Being with you gives me the same feeling as viewing a Duncanson or a Matisse, calm and full of joy. Though, you can also make me feel the chaos of a Kandinsky when you touch me.” To emphasize your words, you wrap your fingers around his girth, angling it up, watching the emotions on his face. The tip of his tongue works at the corner of his mouth, lips parted with every pant and soft moan. “Is this okay?” you ask, leaning down and gently blowing over the leaking tip before tentatively giving it a kitten lick.

“More than,” Yoongi moans. His eye slide closed as you wrap your lips around the head and suck. The flavor of him bursts across your tongue. You can’t help but moan yourself at the idea you’ve made him like this, hard and leaking.

Working as much of his cock into your mouth as you can, you delight in the shuddering convulses you can feel from his body as he loses himself in the sensations you’re bringing him. Yoongi always seems like such a collected individual. He still appeared so well-kept even when he stuttered over his words asking you on the date this morning. Now, though, he’s unraveling into a puddle of debauchery.

It’s a satisfying feeling, similar to when you get into a perfect rhythm when working on a project, bringing him to the edge. You work your mouth and hand in tandem, never leaving an inch of his cock free of your touch.

“Mmm,” you moan, the head of his cock resting in the back of your throat. Yoongi jerks under you, half raising onto his elbows, his eyes zeroing in on where you’re wrapped around him.

His fingers twist into the duvet, bottom lip puffy and flushed as he worries it with his teeth. “I’m going to cum,” he grunts, throwing his head back and moaning his pleasures, deep and throaty.

You quicken your pace, hollowing your cheeks as you suck in earnest. Yoongi cries out a second before liquid warmth floods your mouth. It’s greedy, the way you swallow and continue to lave your tongue over him, eliciting tiny tremors and more moans.

“Just like art,” you whisper, finally letting his cock slip from between your lips. You’re riding your own high, wet and throbbing between your thighs. You can feel the ache in your clit, begging to be touched. All it would take is a few seconds, a few well-placed swirls of your fingers, and you know you’d be floating in orgasmic bliss.

Before you can even think of bringing your hand between your thighs to find relief, Yoongi is sitting up and urging you backward. Your back hits the mattress, and he settles on his side beside you. Somewhere between there and here, he pulled off his glasses. Despite having just found his release, his eyes are still so full of hunger and desire.

“May I?” he asks, pressing a hand against your inner thigh. You nod, eyes locked with his as he slowly trails his hand upward until his fingers brush over the soaked fabric of your panties. “You are so beautiful,” he whispers, leaning in to capture your mouth in a languid kiss. Your lids flutter closed, consumed as you are by his touch.

Yoongi takes his time, toying with the edge of your panties before tugging them down past your knees. They pool around your ankles as he pushes your thighs apart, exposing your weeping pussy to the air of the bedroom.

“Yoongi.” His name is half moan, half curse as he brings his hand back up and cups your heat. The meat of his palm rests against your clit, right where you need to be touched, but the pressure isn’t enough to satisfy.

“An exquisite work of art.” His lips strum against yours, plucking and teasing just the way his fingers do through your wetness. The tips of his fingers briefly kiss your clit, dancing away before returning; a slow build of decadent pleasure.

It’s not above you to beg. “Please. Yoongi, please!”

“Open your eyes, look at me. Let me watch you fall apart so I can brand it into my memory.”

You snap open your eyes the exact moment he slides two slender fingers into your pussy, thumb finally giving the needed pressure to your clit. You’re so worked up that your body pulses around the intrusion, a tiny fluttering orgasm rippling through you.

“Fuck,” you whimper.

Yoongi gives you a wicked, knowing smile. “It’s not over yet, beautiful,” he assures you in a whispered promise.

His fingers are long, able to reach the perfect, special place inside you. As he strokes his fingertips, moving them in an undulating wave, his thumb swirls in a circle around your clit.

The next orgasm is less surprising, building to a heightened peak that has you crying out as you careen over the edge, entirely at Yoongi’s mercy. “Yoongi, fuck!” you babble, your whole body alive with sensations of pleasure.

“That’s it,” he coaxes. “So beautiful.”

Your body shudders around his hand, his fingers slowing down their rhythm until you finally recover. The slide of his fingers along your walls as he withdraws makes you wish he’d put them back in…or maybe something else. The bereft feeling lasts only a moment before Yoongi gathers you into his arms. He’s completely naked, and you’re still wearing your dress, but you feel just as exposed as he is…only, it’s your soul on display for him instead of your body.

You wait for the feeling of vulnerability to filter in, that broken feeling of uncertainty. But, it doesn’t come. The only thing you feel is complete and utter content. It’s not even the post-orgasmic bliss that’s clouding it, either. No, there’s plenty of that, but it feels different; he feels different.

“Yoongi,” you begin, resting your cheek on his chest. You want to confess to him, but the words get choked in your throat. Is it too soon? Are you completely crazy? What if he doesn’t feel the same way? Fuck. Here goes nothing. “This feels good, really good. Is it too soon to say…?”

“Too soon to say?” he prompts.

You absently trace haphazard swirls and lines across his chest, trying to think of how to word it. “I, well…”

“Too soon to say that I think possibly, maybe, I’m falling for you?” You look up at him, surprised by his words. Yoongi looks at you with so much warmth and affection in his eyes. “Because that’s exactly how I feel, too.”

◅ Back to Main Master List ©️ 2023-12-30 ColorMePurplex2

#min yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi imagines #coffeeshop au #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fanfiction #bts yoongi #professor yoongi #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts angst #bts imagines #micdropnet #bangtanwhq

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wh0re43van · 3 months

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Jealousy- (Dom!Peter Maximoff X Reader)

Summary: You and Peter are having a nice day at the river when you run into an old ‘friend’.

(This was a request, but I lost it. I believe the request said something like: “Dom Peter Maximoff. That’s the request”)

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: smut, throat fucking, slight choking, gagging

A/N- y’all I’ve been having such bad writers block and I just started college again so please bare with me 😭🙏🏻

My body buzzes with warmth as the mid summer sun beams down on me. In the distance there’s a group of young teens giggling and splashing as they take turns jumping off the rope swing into the river, but their joys are muffled by the newest Pink Floyd cassette playing in Peters boombox.

Suddenly, I feel a cold blob of something plop onto my stomach. I gasp, quickly sitting up in confusion. My questions are answered when I see a chuckling Peter standing above me with two overfilled ice cream cones in his hands.

“Oops,” he grins as he sits down on his towel beside me, placing the cone in my hand. Peters solution to the mess on my stomach is to lean down and lick it off. I laugh, attempting to shove him away from me.

“Ew Peter,” I chuckle as he licks up the last of the ice cream.

“Tastes like tanning oil,” he smiles while licking his lips. I just shake my head, looking at my dork of a boyfriend with pure adoration.

The soft breeze blows Peters silver locks around on his head as he lap at his sweet treat. The melted desert drips from his hand onto his toned chest and blue swim trunks.

“Babe, you’re a mess,” I laugh as I try to eat mine as neatly as possible, but the frozen delicacy is no match for the summer heat.

“Hm, guess we’ll just have to clean off in the river,” he smirks as he finishes the last of his cone. With a fwip he’s in the water.

“Hey!” I holler after him with a giggle. I set the ice cream down before standing to my feet.

“Come on y/n you’re so Slow!” Peter shouts over the sound of the rushing water. I wipe my sticky hands on his towel then grab a scrunchie to pull my hair back before our swim.

“Y/n?” I hear an unfamiliar voice behind me. I turn with a puzzled look, my hands behind my head as I braid my hair back. I’m shocked by who I see.

“Oh my god! Elijah? I don’t believe it,” I say in disbelief, staring at the boy I haven’t seen since freshman year. He smiles, seemingly pleased that I take the time glance over his now muscular body.

“I look pretty good, huh?” He laughs confidently. His red swim trunks don’t leave much to the imagination as he does a spin, allowing me to see how mature he’s become. He flexes his dark umber toned arms as he holds his head up with pride. The sun shines down on his hair, each tight raven curl lays neatly beside the other as they hang down in his face.

I gulp, feeling a bit guilty for staring.

“Uh, yeah! You look great, dude,” I laugh awkwardly as I look around for Peter.

“You here by yourself? That’s awfully dang-“ Elijah begins but is quickly cut off by Peter who seems to appear out of thin air.

“Nope,” my boyfriend says with a smug grin as he flings his arm around me, much tighter than normal. If I didn’t know better, id think Peter was jealous. I’ve been dating Peter for almost six years and I’ve never seen him so much as look twice at any guy who flirts with me.

‘Let ‘em,’ he always scoffs. ‘I’m the one who gets to undress you,’ Peter knows that no other guy has a chance with me; he actually finds it quite amusing to see guys get horribly rejected by me. Peter is a very confident guy, but right now his jaw is tensed out of annoyance and he’s gripping onto me as if Elijah might tear me from his grasp at any moment.

“Peter, long time no see,” Elija smiles at an unamused Peter.

“Yeah, last time I saw you, you were trying to sabotage my relationship with Y/n,” Peter says flatly, shrugging his shoulders with his lips pulled into a sarcastic grin.

‘Awkward,’ I cringe internally as I remember the last week we spent with Elijah before he moved away.

The two boys and I were best friends since 6th grade, so when Peter decided he wanted to confess his feeling for me, he spoke about it to Elijah- the best friend who he wasn’t in love with. Elijah came to me the next day, telling me that Peter was going to ask me out as a prank, so I should say no- which made me extremely angry since I’d had a crush on Peter for years.

Long story short: Peter was not going to ask me out as a joke, he was completely serious and Elijah almost ruined his chance with me because he wanted me to himself.

“Oh come on peter, that was like four years ago,” Elijah scoffs as he crosses his arms over his chest. He’s right. That was teenage drama that I’ve long forgotten about, however this seems to still be a sore spot for Peter who is now scowling at our old friend.

“whatever man just get lost,” Peters voice drops, his tight grip on my shoulder never faltering as his eyes shoot bullets into Elijah. This is a side to peter that I rarely see, and I cant help but notice the butterflies that are starting to flutter in my stomach.

“Woah quicksilver takes an awfully long time to get over his hurt feelings,” Elijah laughs as he keeps his confident stature. Peters eyes narrow and his face becomes flushed with anger. I open my mouth in attempt so deescalate the situation, but I don’t have time. “y/n is over it,” he smirks, winking in my direction. Before I can defend myself, the wind is knocked out of me.

With a fwip, we’re in the shower cabin. The hot damp air in invades my lungs as I try to catch my breath.

“Peter!” I groan as I pull myself out of his arms. He knows I hate when he does that. “What the hell has gotten into you? I’ve never seen you so-“ my complaint is cut short as Peter smashes his lips to mine. His hand grips the back of my head, keeping me as close to him as possible. His other hand trails up my back.

“You’re mine,” Peter growls against my lips as he backs me against the wall. My stomach drops at the possessive tone coming from my boyfriend. I wrap my arms around his neck and manage to pull my lips away from him enough to catch my breath.

“Of course Peter,” I pant as he trails wet kisses up my jawline and down my neck. I sigh in content, leaning my head to give him more access. I want to pull away, but I cant bring myself to do it.

“All of you,” he says in a low tone, his dominant eyes locking with mine as he removes my bikini top in one quick flash. I gasp as his mouth instantly goes to work on my breast.

“Peter not here! What if someone comes in? Or hears us!” I resist verbally but do very little to actually push him off. Instead, I entangle my fingers into his silver hair.

“Good,” is all he mumbles against my breast as he leaves dark hickies on the soft skin. I know this is wrong. I know we shouldn’t be doing this in such a public place, but I’ve never seen this look in Peters eyes before. It’s not often that he takes charge, and the way that he has me pinned against the wall leaves my knees weak in anticipation.

Peters mouth switches to my other breast as he uses his knees to spread my legs. His skilled fingers pull my bikini bottoms to the side and he immediately dips into my heat, moaning at how wet I already am.

“That bastard wishes he could see you like this,” Peter mumbles under his breath as he watches his finger slide in and out of me. I let out a small whimper, biting my lip to stifle the sound as much as possible.

With his other hand, he grabs my face squeezing my cheeks so hard that my lips pucker, before he leans down almost touching his nose to mine.

“I want to hear every sound that comes out of this pretty little mouth,” he growls lowly as he runs his thumb over my bottom lip. “Do you understand?” He pants as he stares in my eyes with an animalistic glint, his fingers still pumping into me.

“Y-yes,” I gulp, letting out a loud moan when his thumb brushes my clit.

“Atta Girl,” Peter smirks before he moves his hands to my thighs, picking me up so I can straddle him with my back against the wall.

After I wrap my legs around his waist, he begins to grind against my bare core. The friction sends a surge of pleasure through my body.

“What Are You waiting for?” I ask breathlessly as Peters eyes scan my body.

“Tell me what you want,” he demands lowly as his hand gently grips my throat. My heart flutters at my boyfriends unusual- and extremely hot- dominant demeaner

“I-I want you to fuck me,” I stutter as I stare down his arm into his dark eyes. The corner of his lips turn up into a smirk before he drops his swimming shorts.

Peter removes his hand from my throat to bring his fingers up to his mouth, wetting them before grazing over my heat. I tense at the contact, letting out a small whimper. My heart pounds in anticipation as he lines himself up with my entrance.

“I want him to hear,” peter growls before he buries himself inside of me in one swift thrust. I cry out at the sudden feeling of him filling me up. Peter moves hips slowly, allowing me to adjust. Soon enough, his hips are rocking against me in a steady motion as his fingers dig into the soft skin on my hips.

“fuck peter,” I whimper out as he grazes my gspot with every stroke. Everything about this situation- the risk of getting caught, peter completely dominating me, the way hes hitting right where I need him- has me more aroused than I’ve ever been.

“Louder,” Peter grunts, staring at me with stern eyes as he brings a thumb to my clit.

“Fuck Peter!” I let out a pathetic shriek as he begins to vibrate his thumb against my sensitive bud. I throw my head back, squeezing my eyes, allowing myself to get lost in the immense pleasure flooding through my body.

“Much better,” peter chuckles as he speeds up his hips. Peter looks down at me, biting his bottom lip so hard that I fear he may draw blood. Small grunts and low groans mange to slip out as he pounds into me.

“Im so close baby please don’t stop,” I whine as my fingers grip his hair so tight that my knuckles turn white.

“Say my fucking name and cum for me,” he growls into my ear before biting on my neck, sucking hickies onto the sensitive skin. I cant think well enough to form a response as I clench around him, feeling pure euphoria flood my body.

“Fuck! Yes! Peter oh my god!” I moan loudly, I don’t even know what I’m saying. At this point, Peter has literally fucked me senseless. I’m putty in his hands for him to use in any way he’d like. I lay against the wall, Peter now solely holding me up as I attempt to collect myself. I open my eyes as he slowly pulls out of me, chuckling as he sets me down onto my shaky legs.

“Peter… I-“ I just stare at my boyfriend as my release starts to drip down my thigh. Peter smirks as he pumps his still rock hard cock, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder.

“Get down and open up baby,” he says gently with a kiss to my forehead as he pushes on my shoulder. I obey, meeting his gaze as I get to my knees. I know that I’m drunk off lust because any other time I would not have my bare ass so close to the floor of a public showering cabin but with the way Peter’s looking at me, the thought of resisting doesn’t even cross my mind.

With my chest still heaving a bit, I take his length into my hand, stroking it slowly before kitten licking the tip. Peter throws his head back with a grunt as I slide him into my mouth, my tongue tracing up the bottom of him. I wrap my arms around his thighs as I begin to move my head back and forth. Peter smirks, gently pushing some loose strands of hair out of my face.

“That’s it baby. You’re doing so good,” he hums as he begins to move his hips in rhythm to my face. Peter looks angelic as the sheen of sweat across his forehead glistens in the single beam of sun cutting through dimness of the cement room. His toned chest heaves as his dark eyes watch his cock violate my mouth, slipping deeper into my throat with each thrust. Tears begin to form in eyes as he slams into my throat, continuously slipping past my gag reflex

“I’m the only one who gets to use you like this,” Peter growls as his hands grip onto the back of my head. I do my best to nod and mumble a ‘mhm’ as drool begins to escape the corners of my mouth, dripping down my chest as he fucks my throat. My core still aches for him. I’ve had my release already, but the way that he’s speaking to me and using me is something far out of the ordinary for him- I cant get enough. I manage to pull away to gasp for breath as I begin to get light headed.

“Please,” I pant out hoarsely, tears and spit streaming down my face as I desperately kiss all over peters length between breaths. “Cum on my face baby please. Im yours. Please peter,” I beg breathlessly as I massage his balls. Peter lets out a whimper, seemingly more than excited to hear my pleads. His hand grabs onto his length, stroking himself closer to his climax. I sit back on my heels, opening my mouth, holding my tits- now covered in my own saliva from his ruthless face fucking- up, wanting nothing more than for him to cover me in his cum.

“God you’re so fucking sexy,” Peter groans as his hand moves in a blur along his length. He throws his head back and lets out a stream of profanities and groans as he shoots his hot seed allover my face and tits. “Jesus Christ,”’ Peter groans when he looks down to see the mess he’s made of me. I giggle, leaning forward, licking up his cock one last time to make sure I’ve gotten every drop. Peter watches me in awe as he attempts to catch his breath, grabbing my shoulders and gently pulling me to my feet.

“Do you feel better now?” I tease as I scoop some off his cum off my breast, bringing the salty liquid to my mouth. Peter groans at the sight.

“Much better,” he laughs as he reaches for his swim trunks. “You wouldn’t mind walking past Elijah like that would you?” he laughs as he grabs a paper towel by the sink.

“What? Half naked and covered in your cum?” I raise an eyebrow at him as he picks up my bikini top.

“Well, maybe put this on first,” he smirks, handing me the thin material. I laugh as he wipes me off so I can get dressed. The mood is back to its usual easy-going vibe and my calm and collected Peter has returned- but I can assure you that we will be revisiting this side of him quite often

Tags: @pretzel-bunnie @slvt4jamesmarch

#evan peters #evan peters smut #ahs cult #ahs hotel #jimmy darling smut #kai anderson #kit walker smut #ahs asylum #ahs fandom #ahs murder house #quicksilver smut #quicksilver #peter maximoff smut #peter maximoff #tate langdon smut #tate langdon #kai anderson smut

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steviewashere · 30 days

Text

My Eyes Are on Me

Rating: General CW: Steve is really unkind to himself here Tags: Post-Canon, Post-Season 4, Established Relationship, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, (The comfort is minor but is there I promise), Insecure Steve Harrington, Body Issues, Steve Harrington is a Mess, Breakdown, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Scar Insecurities, Scars, Devotion, (Steve Could Be Seen With Body Dysphoria Here But Take That With a Grain of Salt)

💛—————💛 He walks into the bedroom. Stopped in a curious stupor at what greets him.

Steve’s standing at the mirror. Shirt pooled around his elbows. Right thumb gliding over the crooked edges of his demobat bites. They’re palm sized. His stomach is pale and the bites paint themself a warm pink mauve over his lower abdomen. The tender and scarred skin protrudes from the rest of his body, healed incorrectly, and kissing the calloused skin of his thumb easily. His eyes are downcast at his reflection. Watching his own caressing. He frowns at a particular ridge in the skin. Thumb twitching away from where he touches. But his eyes don’t move from their focused spot. Squinting. Eyebrows furrowing. He swallows harsh enough that Eddie sees his neck flex with the movement.

“I thought that they’d match better,” Steve murmurs sadly. He looks up. At Eddie over his shoulder. “I’m sure that my back doesn’t look much better.” Then, he pulls the shirt back over his head. Pulling it down, down, down over his torso. Disguising his back from view.

Eddie blinks. Sliding his sight to where Steve’s back is now covered. “I didn’t really look,” he admits. “Not really something I was focused on just now.”

In response, Steve hums. “I know,” he whispers, “Could feel you watching me.” He turns away from the mirror, finally. Facing Eddie. There’s several feet of distance between them. Eddie feels as though he’s too far away, but doesn’t want to intrude any further than he already has.

“Sorry, sweetheart. I just…Honestly, I don’t know what I was doing.”

Steve shrugs and moves towards the end of his bed. Sits down and falls backwards. Sprawling over his comforter. The bottom of his t-shirt pulls up. Part of his scars show. But he doesn’t move to cover them again. “It’s fine,” Steve mutters. He runs a hand over his chest. Settling his palm over his heart. “At least you were just watching, I guess. Not saying shit.”

Cautiously, Eddie comes closer. Sprawls beside Steve on his bed. But keeps his gaze at the ceiling, just as Steve is doing. “You’re eye candy. My eyes were just drawn to you. I didn’t mean anything negative by it,” he explains. “You say people are talking about your scars?”

“It’s not important, Eds. Don’t worry about it.”

“Hey,” Eddie softly objects. He turns his head to look at Steve. All he catches is his side profile. “I have scars, too. In fact, mine are way worse than yours. If people are giving you shit about yours, you can tell me. Besides, it’s always important if it makes you look at yourself like that.”

Next to him, Steve swallows heavily. Probably realizing he’s been caught. Eddie doesn’t like the way he sees his sunshine’s face screw up. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Baby,” Eddie sighs. “You were all…How do I say this? You were…disheartened. Like looking at yourself was disdain in its finest form, y’know?”

Steve scrunches his t-shirt where his hands had been pressing. “Maybe I am,” he mutters, “But it doesn’t matter. Just something I’m gonna have to get used to.” He runs his hand down to the hem of his shirt. Fingers teasing the idea of running against his skin. “Just like I got used to the nightmares. And the fear. And the panic.”

“You shouldn’t have to get used to any of that, Steve,” Eddie states emphatically. “You should be able to talk about it. And be heard. And like…Like feel good in your life!”

A hand presses into Eddie’s forearm. He looks down and spots the palm that Steve had on himself. When he looks back up, Steve’s eyes are locked with his. “Eds, babe, I appreciate what you’re trying to do right now. Really, I do. This isn’t something that’s going to get fixed overnight. It’s not something I see myself adjusting to in due time.” He sighs mournfully. “My scars are new to me. I’ve never experienced something like them before. Maybe the tiny ones I’d get on my knuckles or when I would hit my head, but the back and stomach are fresh. I…I don’t like feeling bad about myself. I know that I feel bad about myself. But I can’t just shut that off.

“I’d like to,” he admits, his eyes downcast at his hand on Eddie’s skin. “One day, I’d like to pull my shirt off and be confident in myself. To look at the difference and say how proud I am. But I just…Can’t. I’ve been good looking. I’ve been attractive. I just don’t feel that way right now.”

“You are, Steve,” Eddie urges softly. “You are so attractive.”

Steve’s smile is small and quick, but it’s there. He squeezes Eddie’s forearm. “Thank you, I appreciate that, Eds. But it’s going to take me a while to realize that you’re telling the truth. Like…I’m not doubting that. I’m not disproving that you feel that way. It’s not computing, though. Do you get it?” He doesn’t like that he understands. His body being a fixture of his self doubts a lot now. But he nods. He nods because Steve is seeking that comfort within him. The understanding that he’s being heard. That Steve’s allowed to feel this way. Even if it destroys Eddie. “You know how…How when we have sex I don’t like having the lights on?”

“Yeah, sweetheart, I do,” Eddie answers. Again, his voice is soft. Teetering with an uneasy sadness. He knows all about this.

“One day we’ll have the bedside lamp on and you’re hands will be on my skin and I won’t feel bad for it,” Steve says. It sounds like a promise. Eddie lays his left hand over Steve’s. Where their palms lay over the forearm. “I won’t feel bad when you want to wrap your arms around me in our sleep. And I won’t feel bad when I want to cool down and have to take my shirt off. I won’t—“ He hiccups on a wet gasp.

And that’s when Eddie realizes that Steve’s gearing up to cry. He drifts his line of sight downwards, only slightly. Not making eye contact. Because the last thing he wants is for Steve to feel embarrassed about his emotions, too. But he runs his thumb over Steve’s knuckles. Just to have a point of contact. To have something to keep them grounded to the bed.

He takes another gasp. His voice wavers through his words. “I won’t feel bad when I take a shower. Did you know—“ Steve hiccups again. A soft cry leaves him. Eddie leans in closer. Resting his forehead to Steve’s hair. He bounces with another gasp. “—You know that I shower in the dark, Eds?”

“No, baby, I didn’t,” he murmurs.

“I do,” Steve keens, “I do, Eds. Don’t like what I see in the mirror or when I look down at the drain or when I have to wrap a towel around myself,” he continues to explain. His voice is high in the back of his throat. Turning sharp and on the edge of sour. And every part of Eddie is crumbling, dissolving into the mattress. But he doesn’t interrupt. Acknowledges with his touch and the firm press of his cheek on Steve’s head. But nothing more. Steve needs this out. “I don’t like feeling bad,” he’s confessing, “I don’t like feeling this way. Every time I look at myself, it’s like I’m burning. Like I’m on fire. Like I—Like something in me is trying to escape. Like it’s—Like my body is some sort of prison,” he spits. He sucks in a harsh breath. With it, his saliva. A heavy gulp. It’s all pouring out. It’s seeping from him. Eddie can almost taste it. A despair. And through this all, Steve is on the precipice of sobbing. It’s inching closer and closer. The sharp pull of wailing in his chest. “I’m so—“ He groans. “I’m so tired of this, Eddie. I’m so tired of being this way and feeling this way and…and…and looking the way I do. I’m so tired of it—I’m so—“

And then, the sobs come. Wet and burbled from inside of him. Like punches from his mouth. Blowing between his teeth. His air hissing as he tries to bite his tongue. But when he realizes the overcoming pressure rising from inside of him, he opens his mouth, tongue and teeth and all his pink insides, and the sobbing turns to screaming. To wailing. A mourning.

Eddie’s own eyes are wet. He can’t take this. Can’t see Steve like this. A shadow, a shattering thing, something small and fragile and tipping, tipping, tipping. He wants to crumble everything he knows. Wants to go to God, surprisingly, wants to bang on his doors, wants to scream and hiss and spit at him. Wants to ask: “What did you do to him? Why did you make him feel like this?” Because this isn’t fair. This isn’t fair, the way Steve is dissolving and Eddie isn’t. Because, for once in his life, Eddie is comfortable in his own skin. But somebody like Steve, his wonderful and beautiful Steve, is doubting himself. Doubting his looks. His confidence. The things he used to take pride in.

So Eddie gently asks, “Can I hold you, Stevie? Is it okay to touch you?” His chest hurts—a rock hitting his ribs kind of hurt—at the smallness in Steve’s nod.

He wriggles his right arm under Steve’s torso, over his t-shirt, ignoring the way it pulls up to expose Steve’s bare back. Pulls him into the warm line of his own body, turning Steve to be chest to chest with him, and wraps the other arm over Steve’s back. Holding to him tightly. Gently guiding his head into the crook of Eddie’s neck. Letting him wet the skin there. With snot and tears and words. Some akin to: “I’m ugly, Eds.” And others akin to: “I’m wrong. I feel wrong.”

There isn’t anything he can say to soothe this. He’s not sure there are words to say. Other than what he knows. “I got you, sweetheart,” he mutters into Steve’s hair. “I’m right here, love bug. Get it out,” he whispers, “you can be angry and sad, it’s alright.”

Eddie doesn’t move his hands. Doesn’t let them drift to bare skin. The only instance in which he moves either of his palms is to thread one through Steve’s hair. To pet and hold. To untangle the knots in his, now noticeable, unwashed and unbrushed hair. And all he can do is keep Steve to him. His arms limp on Eddie’s body. His back arching with each cry. His nose wet and his cheeks warm and his throat raspy and raw.

The crying gets hoarse after some several minutes, Eddie begins to realize. Steve droops further and further into where their bodies meet. Crying growing into just whimpering into just small hiccups. He doesn’t move his head. Doesn’t say anything. Just stays stuck in where he is.

“I’ve got you, angel,” Eddie breathes. “We’ll be alright.”

Steve releases one more soft cry at that. Then, he murmurs, “Thank you.”

Eddie pulls him in tighter. “No, baby, don’t do that. You don’t need to thank me and you don’t need to apologize. But, can you do one thing?” Steve hums at that. “I want you to listen to me, alright? Just listen to what I have to say, that’s all.” At his nod, Eddie continues. “I believe that one day you won’t feel bad at all. And I also believe that you’re still beautiful despite what you think of yourself. And, before you try and protest that, I’m devoting myself to you. I’m going to tell you every single damn day of the rest of our lives that you are beautiful and gorgeous and pretty. And you deserve to feel good.

“That’s a lot, I know that’s a lot. But I’m telling you the truth. Because you do deserve to feel good. I will help you with that. Whatever you need, I’ll give that to you. You understand that, sweet thing?” He pulls back a tad. Their eyes on one another’s again. Steve looks so exhausted. Wrung out. Defeated. But still, he gives a terse and single nod. That’s enough, though. That’s all that Eddie needs. “Okay,” he mutters, “okay, Steve. What can I do right now?”

Steve sighs and closes his eyes. When he reopens them, they’re clearer and softer. Still tired. Still bloodshot and wet. But they have the smallest amount of determination to them. “Just lay with me for a while. Hold me like this, please?”

He presses a long, warm kiss to the crown of Steve’s head. Murmurs, “Of course. Anything. I’ll do anything to help you feel good.”

There’s a long road ahead. But Eddie will always find the words to tell Steve how gorgeous he is. With every moment in their lives together. And then some. Always then some.

💛—————💛

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #angst and hurt/comfort

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neon-junkie · 1 year

Text

I've spoken about married Tech before, but let's just consider Tech in love.

I mean, his love language is... strange.

At first, he's distant. He analyses you and the situation from afar; and hell, you probably presume that he doesn't like you, given how blunt and aloof he is. However, he's simply piecing things together, determining if he's really fallen for you, and better yet, if you've fallen for him.

You will likely have to be the one to initiate things. Little comments here and there, brief flirting, giving him open windows for him to leap through. It'll take a few attempts, but Tech will soon put his foot in the door, and flash you a cheeky look with a raised brow that has your heart thumping in your chest.

He doesn't need to impress you. A man with such an exceptional mind has no need to flex, or at least, that's what he's telling himself. To everybody else, Tech won't shut up. Blahblahblah, my intelligence, my wit, my sarcasm, blahblahblah. Maker, Tech! We get it! You're the whole package!

From your perspective, he's only trying to show that he's mature enough for a courtship. You know he's cleaver, but oh! how helpful he is! Tech suddenly wants to fix all those little things that bother you, like how your datapad's battery falls flat within an hour, or how your caf maker doesn't automatically turn off at the right temperature.

He's a very hands-on guy. Acts of service are his way of flirting, but once committed, things take a turn.

Tech, when new to a relationship, can go a little overboard with physical touch. I mean, he has to be touching you at all moments. Hell, he'll probably follow you around with his hand on your shoulder, if you'll let him.

It's not that you're going anywhere, nor is he, but he needs that physical confirmation of "they're mine! Maker, they're actually mine! And it's not a fantasy, they really are dating me, and I need this physical touch as a form of confirmation that they're MINE."

Words of affirmation. Praise. Pet names. Shit, he's going all out. It's always My Darling this, and My Dearest that. "Oh, my love, you should know by now that giving me those pleading eyes will not falter from the fact that you broke our heated blanket."

You weren't expecting this, but on date nights, Tech likes to coordinate his outfit with you. A matching colour, fabric pattern, accessories - anything! Tech likes to dress up, especially if he's trying to one-you-up, something that he'll never achieve (by his words.)

Tech is the type to hold your hands across the table whilst you're waiting for your meal, gazing into your eyes whilst saying, "darling, I am delighted that you decided to treat yourself to an entrée and main tonight. Perhaps desert will be enjoyed back at your apartment?"

He's raunchy. His main aim of flirting is to leave your cheeks burning brighter than the sun, and to top it all off, he'll whisper even more alluring secrets against the skin of your neck whilst he peppers it in kisses.

Maybe it's time to tell him to tone it down? You are in public, after all.

And when the night is over, Tech will curl up to you. He likes to chat before bed; this is usually the prime time to discuss anything that's been bothering you, and vice versa, until one of you ends up replying through snores. Tech is also very adamant that you're the blanket hogger, when really, it's him.

The honeymoon phase never seems to end with Tech. It will level out, but it'll never 'end,' because Tech is someone who puts his entire self into a relationship, and how could you fall out of love with a man like that?

#tbb #the bad batch #tbb tech #tech #bad batch tech #tbb tech x you #tech x you #tech x reader #tbb tech x reader #gn!reader

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moustacherie · 5 months

Text

Ope, here we go again.

The Battlemaster! Poster child of the A Game of Armored Combat box set, this guy has been in my to-do pile for at least a year, but that Davion Guards scheme is just so satisfying to do.

The keen-eyed may notice that it's not quite 1-to-1 with the original plastic. Despite the longstanding aesthetic tradition of giving mechs huge pistol-like armatures for their weapons, I remain a fan of the integrated approach. So... I very carefully carved the gun off of the fist, chopped off most of the pistol structure, and kitbashed it with some Strato Minis bits I had laying around to give it the vibe of the MWO Battlemaster. That was the easy part. The real flex, however, was carving away the remnants of the gun on the fist -- which is one solid plastic piece -- and etching out the panels and finger lines to match the opposite fist. Also I gave it better looking machine guns and and IWM launcher plate.

Also, Army Painter Highlord Blue speedpaint is top-tier for Davion Guards basecoat. Fuck that canopy, though. Canopy jeweling is a skill that as of yet escapes me, but the crystal acrylic technique came through on this one, especially since gravity helped pool it at the lower edges and give it a soft blending effect.

Ope, what's that? A non-canon mech? The Roughneck is a personal favorite of mine. Technically apocryphal due to being an invention by PGI for Mechwarrior Online, much like the Corsair and Sun Spider, I'm a dead sucker for the aesthetic of industrial machines refurbished into military equipment. Ellen Ripley, eat your heart out.

Check that base, too. Zip ties, window screen, toothpicks, and cardstock.

#battletech #mechwarrior #art #mini painting #miniatures #wargaming

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iraprince · 8 months

Note

Hi Ira! If I remember right, you mentioned that you bought an arm mount for your tablet for use at your desk. Do you have any recommendations? I'm trying to get a "dream office" list together and honestly my neck would appreciate a break from all the shrimping I do while I draw. Have a lovely day! 💜

i can definitely recommend the one i use, because i love it and have had no problems with it, but as a heads up i've never used any other arm mounts before so i can't give any accurate insight on whether it's better/worse than others!

that being said, i'm using a gas spring mount, and especially if you have or intend to get a large/heavy screen tablet, i really recommend it. the way the gas spring arm works is basically when setting it up you can adjust the amount of like, pneumatic force/resistance offered by the central support of the arm to be exactly matched to the weight of the tablet monitor (this sounds technical but is really easy, u just follow the instructions in the setup manual), and then basically the tablet will just Stay wherever you move it -- barely requires u to apply any force at all, and no fiddling with loosening and tightening a bunch of knobs whenever you want to make an adjustment, which has been the experience i've had with cheaper arm mounts for stuff like microphones etc!!! i'm sure there are non-gas-spring mounts that are somewhat easily adjustable, but my experience with the gas spring one so far has been that it's SO easy that i don't even have to think about it. i move mine a lot so i can sit different ways, angle the tablet surface based on the level of detail i'm working at, etc and it's also really nice to be able to just swing it completely out of the way and tuck the tablet away to the side when i'm done drawing digitally and want to free up my desk; if the arm was sticky or rigid or required Any extra steps to readjust stuff i think i would get annoyed really fast.

(if my office was not such a fucking disaster rn i would take some pics so you could see how i have it set up and some of the ways i can move it around. unfortunately it is a fucking disaster. maybe i'll get a chance sometime and i'll loop back to this!!)

it also feels really sturdy, there's an extremely tiny bit of wobble when i'm drawing bc i have a tendency to push really hard sometimes and that made me a little nervous on the first day but i don't even notice it now (and the wobble seems to just be from general/necessary flex in the arm overall, not a certain joint or component of the clamp being loose or lacking integrity). i would definitely recommend looking at reviews and carefully picking something solid; u will make urself miserable if you're not confident that your arm can Hold your very expensive and precious tablet, or if the clamp is wobbling on your desk or whatever. also, MEASURE THE SIDE OF YOUR DESK and try to find dimension info to make sure the clamp on whatever arm you're getting will actually fit!! i have a weird desk that has a kind of thick inset bit on the underside/edges, and a lot of standard clamps do not fit over it; i was lucky enough that the one that came with my tablet was adjustable enough to fit, but it would really suck to order an arm and then find out it's incompatible with your desk.

i can't seem to find a listing for the exact mount i use -- sticker on the side says huanuo. i got it bundled with my huion when i bought it, so here's just a link to a similar bundle; it looks a little different than the one i got, but this amazon listing for a gas spring mount from the same brand looks the same, so i think i just got a version that doesn't have the cable management loops on the bottom.

ANYWAY that's about all i can think to say -- like i said, this is the only arm mount i've ever used, so if anyone else wants to chime in with info or experiences abt other varieties that would be great!! i hope this is helpful, gl getting your dream office together :D

#how do my answers always get so long lmao. how is it u guys ask me the simplest stuff and im inevitably like Here's My 5 Paragraph Essay

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quicktosimp · 7 months

Text

When the Kids are Away

Kinktober Day 12 - Jake

Jake/Human!Reader, mentioned Jake/Reader/Neytiri

Warnings: 18+, Fingering, Dom!Jake, Sub!Reader, Sir Kink, Spanking, DILF Jake, Bondage, Breeding Kink

Thank you @pandoraslxna for putting this together for all of us 💕

Divider by @cafekitsune

“Come on, baby girl. Don’t you wanna have some fun?” Jake persists, asking me for the seventh time.

“No, you idiot. You’re always too impatient to prepare me properly.” I snap, getting sick of this conversation.

“What if I promise to prepare you more this time? Do it just like Tiri does it.” He bribes.

A snort slips out of my mouth, “I’m gonna tell Tiri you said that. No one can do it like Tiri.”

Jakes's hands went up in surrender, “Don’t I know it, no one out matches our Tiri with that tongue of hers.”

I walk over and wrap my arms around Jake’s waist, “I miss them,” I sigh.

Jake holds me in his arms, “I miss them too. I know they just left to visit Mo’at, but a three-day flight, with a week-long stay, and then the flight back, that too long for us to be separated.”

“Stupid rules. I want our kids back and Tiri back.” I tried to hold back a whine.

“We still have 13 days left, baby.”

I let loose a dramatic whine, “I’ve never not had the kids with us! Even before I mated with you and Neytiri, I watched the kids! I’ve never gone a night without the kids in the same room!”

“I know, baby, I’m thinking the same things. The marui is too quiet.” Jake rubs my back.

The breeze of the ocean, the crackle of the fire pit, and the creaking of the marui floors. There are no sounds of chatter or bickering. No Spider showing me the new Metkayina armband he had made and the healing from his tattoo. No Neteyam telling me about his day, as I teach him some olf human weaving. No Kiri chatting to me about the creatures she had seen today. No Lo’ak explaining the new fishing technique he learned or bemoaning about Aonung. No Tuk showing me the new necklace she had made that day, telling me about the friends she had made. I want my babies back! The burning of tears pricks at my eyes.

“Oh, baby girl. It will be okay; they’ll be back soon and tell us everything they did. They’ll talk through the eclipse and into the next sunrise. We’ll have to beg them to stop.” Jake kneels so he can hold me tighter, pulling my face into his neck.

I chuckle even though it sounds wet, “I know, and I know I’m being dramatic, but I don’t know how to do this right now.” My hands travel up, wrapping around his neck and holding his locks.

“That's okay, we’ll both figure it out. Maybe we can go for a ride on my tsurak, and go for a swim after?” He murmurs into my hair.

I look up from under my lashes, “Ride to our island?” I ask.

Jake’s tail swishes in delight, but his voice is calm. “Yeah, we can go to our island. That would be fun, wouldn’t it?”

I smile up at him, “We haven’t had enough time for us to go out in a while, with Neteyam healing and getting Spider accommodated. Although that kid adjusted better than all of us here.”

Jake groans from the reminder, “I know, seriously, he was not the kid I thought I’d have to beat suitors off with a stick.”

I laugh at his plight; watching him pop up like a daisy terrifying Spider’s admirers has become one of my favorite pastimes. However, I can’t help but wonder, if Jake is like this with his son, I can’t imagine what he’ll be like with Kiri and Tuk.

“Ha ha ha, I’m glad you find this funny. Now, I wouldn’t be laughing at the person who’s gonna take you for a ride.” Jake smirks.

“Okay, okay, it’s seeing you be overprotective over our kids. It turns me on a bit,” I admit with a sly grin.

Jake cocks an eyebrow, his expression matching mine, “It turns you on, baby? What else do I do that turns you on?”

“Well, when all the kids were little, and you’d cradle them in one arm, I’d see your biceps flex while holding our baby so tenderly.” I started.

“What else?” He noses my neck.

“When that creep in the scientist lab started paying too much attention to Kiri, you beat the ever-living shit out of him. That was like an aphrodisiac straight into my veins.”

“That’s what that was about? I just thought you and Neytiri started without me.” Jake laughed.

“Oh, we did. But our foreplay was me telling her everything you did in detail.” I whisper.

“Oh fuck, my girls are naughty.” Jake moans.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t love it. I believe that night you came more times than you ever had in one night. We worshiped you that night.” I tugged his locks as he nibbled on my neck.

“You did. Now I think it’s time I returned that favor tonight.” Jake attacked my neck with fervor, leaving open-mouthed kisses that dominated the whole side of my neck.

I gasp from the pleasure, loving my neck being played through. Jakes's lips and tongue lavish my neck with attention as he sucks the skin into his mouth, undoubtedly leaving a purple mark on my neck. Jake’s hands grasp my hips, just his two hands wrapped around my waist and touched. I love the way he makes me feel so small.

Jake’s enthusiasm continues as he trails down to my breasts, covered by a na’vi chest covering designed to also work as a bra, holding my breasts in place while woven in the traditional Omatikaya style. I couldn’t keep Netiri off of me, and Jake wasn’t subtle about how his slit was open whenever he saw my breasts.

Jake grunted in frustration, not liking his pursuit being hindered. So he ripped it off of me, stones, beads, and shells scattered across our marui.

“Jake!” I gasped, ignoring the heat in my loins, “That was the one I had just finished! Made from materials of the Awa'atlu waters!” I bemoaned all my hard work for nothing.

Don’t worry, baby girl, I’ll just hold them with my hands. You won't need another covering again.” Jake grasped my breasts, one in each hand, and his lips found my nipple without hesitation.

I arched my back, thrusting my chest into his face as he sucked on my nipple. I pull Jake’s head to my chest, tugging on his locks.

“Oh, that feels good,” I moan.

Jake bites my nipple in response. His other hand wasn’t idle, rubbing, pulling, and tweaking the other nipple.

“Jake want more.” I gasp.

“More, baby? More what? You got to use your words.” From here, he switched breasts.

A blush erupts over my body, “Please, Jake, my pussy.”

One lone finger travels down my core, gently caressing through the tweng I wear, “Like this baby?”

I groan from his teasing, “Jake, don’t be a fucking tease,”

Smack! Jake’s large hand slapped my ass.

“Don’t be a fucking brat,” Jake growled, my ass stinging from his strike.

“Please, Jake-”

Smack! Burning pain flowing through my ass.

“That’s not the right name,” His voice low.

“Please, Sir, I need you in my pussy!” I beg.

“Good girl,” One of his long finers slips under my tweng, covering the digit in my slick, his thumb circling my clit.

“Sir, please, need you.” I roll my hips, grinding into his fingers.

Jake’s long finger entered my cunt, the single digit bringing a burning pleasure. Long, thick, and stretching me so much already, but he just leaves it there unmoving.

“There you go, baby, I’m inside you.” I didn’t have to look at his face to know he was smirking, using his other hand to stop my hips from moving.

“Sir!”

“What? I did exactly what you asked. I’m even playing with your clit. Aren’t I so good for you?” Jake’s teeth latch onto my ribs, sucking the skin into his mouth.

“Please, Sir, I want your cock.” I ask sweetly.

A booming laugh erupts from Jake as he backs off, his fingers leaving me, “You told me that I don’t prepare you enough. So no, baby, you don't get my cock.”

Running to Jake, I grasp at his tweng, unable to reach farther, “No, please, Sir! I was being a brat! Please punish me so I can have your cock!” I desperately beg, my eyes wide.

But I find no sympathy in his, only dark amusement, “Oh, I’ll punish you for being a brat. But you made yourself clear; you don’t get my cock until Neytiri returns and can prepare you herself.”

“No, please, Sir,” I beg one last time.

Smack! My ass was turning red just from the three hits. “That enough.” He finalizes, “Take off your tweng and lay on the table. On your front and hold the top of it.”

“Yes, Sir,” I mope as I drag myself over.

Smack! Another hit to my ass, “Don’t fucking drag your feet, you asked for this.”

I quickly rushed to do as Jake said, not wanting to make my punishment worse. I haul myself onto the eating table, the cool wood bites into my nipples. I grab the top of the table as I stretch my legs out flat. Jake lets out a pleased hum as his hand gazes across my body. Once he reaches my wrists, his hand takes them into his hold. Grabbing a piece of my broken top, Jake binds my hands to the loop carved into the table before grabbing two more parts of the broken top. Jake soon leaves my vision as he goes behind me, his large hands pushing my thighs apart. Jake takes his time as he binds each of my ankles to the table. Bearing me to him and the marui.

“Now, ain’t this the perfect view. “ He admires.

A whine left me embarrassed from being this open.

“Aww, sweetheart, it’s okay. I’m gonna take care of you.” Jake settles on the other end of the table, fitting himself between my thighs, “Now you’re gonna be a good girl for me and take what I give you.”

“Yes, Sir,” I mutter, voice muffled from the table.

Jake’s hands reach up and trail along my thighs, his nails leaving marks in their wait. “I fucking love your ass almost as much as your pussy.” His hands grope my ass, squeezing tight, “Now, about that punishment, you were pretty bratty earlier, but I know you’re upset, so I’ll let you get away with it this time.”

Smack! Another hit on my ass; one hand is big enough to cover both globes.

“But that doesn’t mean I won’t spank this gorgeous ass. It’s one of my favorite things to do: watch it turn red and watch it move with each hit. I remember all those years ago when you begged Tiri and I to spank your ass. Fuck that was of your best ideas.” Jake enuncated with another spank.

With a harsh thrust, Jake fully seated a finger inside me.

“Oh! Fuck!” I shouted in surprise as he continued a thrust harshly.

Jake chuckles under his breath, deep-sounding, “That feel good, baby? I like having you scream on just a finger. So fucking tight.” Jake quickly adds a second one.

“Sir! Big, it’s big, Sir!” Trying to hump back onto Jake’s fingers.

Smack!

“Keep that ass still, and take what I give you!” He snarled.

Smack!

“Yes, Sir! Sorry, Sir!” I cry over the pleasure.

“Fucking good girl,” Jake said lowly.

I could barely hear what Jake said over the sounds coming from my pussy, the wet squelching noise loud with the thrusts of his fingers. Hearing those lewd sounds come from me makes the fire burning in me grow.

Jake taunted, “You want another finger, baby? Need me to stretch your little pussy wider?”

“Please, Sir!”

Smack!

“Words, baby, use your words!”

Smack!

“I want another finger, please, Sir!”

A third finger quickly joins inside, Jake never stopping his fast tempo. Moans spill from my lips, my breath skipping from the power of his thrusts.

“P-pl-please!” I beg, not sure for what.

“Please what babygirl? You gotta ask properly.”

Jake’s fingers rubbed and pressed on my g spot. He hit it every trust-in and scrapped his fingers on it every time he left. I don’t know what I want. All I know are his fingers and the way he makes me feel.

I scream out my frustration and pleasure, “Ple-please! D-don’t know! Please, Sir!”

“Don’t know, hmm? Then let sir take care of you. Come on, say it.” Cockiness eases through his every pore.

“Ple-Please! He-lp, me, Sir!” I sob.

The pleasure becoming too much, and the pain in my ass adding to the tightening in my core. Jake stands, leaning over the side, his fingers never leaving my cunt, but this position lets him go faster, harder.

“Okay, baby girl, I’ll take care of you.” With that, he thrust in his pinky.

“Oh fuck! Please!” I arch the best I can, wanting more of the stretch.

“Please, Sir! Need your cock! Please!”

Smack!

“I told you no! That’s final!” Jake growled out.

“Please! Want your cum! Want a baby! Please give me a baby!”

“Oh fuck,” I hear Jake whisper.

Then nothing. His fingers were ripped from my cunt, and Jake walked to my front, his hand holding where his slit was under his tweng. Jake kneels in front of me, kissing me soundly, full of passion.

“You want a baby? I’ll give you a baby.”

#lunaskinktober2023 #avatar #atwow #avatar way of water #kinktober #smut #jake sully x y/n #jake sully x you #jake sully smut #jake sully x reader #jake sully avatar #avatar twow #avatar fanfiction #avatar the way of water #avatar 2 #writing #atwow fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 fanfic

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sanjoongie · 1 year

Text

FFF~ Day 12

♡Pairing: Jung Yunho x Reader (f) ♡Genre: Smut with no plot :) ♡Au: boxer ♡Word Count: 1,630 ♡Warnings: nipple play (f and m receiving), hand job, San's a sneaky match maker (yunho walks into you changing, but you're into it), slight spit play, m orgasm, slight overstim ♡Rated: 18+ MDNI ♡Masterlist link~ | Previous Day~ Impregnation, KYS | Next Day~ Edging, CJH ♡Dedication: @mejuii I'm posting late and you're a godsend 😭

Yunho knew he was a pervert. He should have been practicing his jabs with the sandbag, just like his coach had set him out to do. Instead, he was staring a little slack jawed at the new addition to the boxing club, aka, you.

You were a little spitfire, but you hadn't lost a sparring match yet. Coach said that you had some temperament issues to work on but that you had promise.

If Yunho was a better man, he'd watch the way your footwork was a work of art or admire your quick punches that seemed to take your opponents out. Instead, he watched the way your sweat clung to your hairline, the dip of your waist between your ribcage and your hips. But most importantly, he was obsessed with your boobs.

Yunho would chew on his lip in thought, on the pretense of a break for a water bottle refill. His eyes would remain glued to your chest. His thoughts of how your tits were begging to be freed, with one swift tug and then they'd be bouncing. He imagined them swinging as you punched, fighting without a top on at all. Yunho spent half his practice time daydreaming about you… but you had no idea.

San did, though.

San was tired of sparring with Yunho when his head was in the clouds. San wanted to get better--and that required Yunho to be at the top of his game. So San decided that a little trick to push Yunho out of his daydream, and into reality, was in order.

"Coach said the pipes burst in the women's locker room," San said forlornly. "I checked the men's locker room, though. It's all clear. You can go ahead."

You smiled politely at San, "Thanks."

You settled into the locker room, getting undressed. You were in the middle of pulling your sports bra over your breasts when Yunho walked in. You weren't perturbed. You had flashed boys in school and the odd rock band member before. But Yunho was dumbfounded. Your boobs were even more perfect than he had initially imagined. The way you tucked them into your sports bra made him want to weigh them in his hands. And finally, your nipples were pert from being in the cool air.

"I don't suppose San stopped you from coming in," You asked with a quirk of your eyebrow.

Yunho shook his head. In fact, San had slapped him on the ass and said good luck before he had come in, which had baffled him, but it wasn't the first time San had slapped his ass before for no reason. Now he knew what it meant.

You sighed. "Well, I guess, since you've seen mine, you might as well show me yours."

Yunho was confused. "Show you mine?"

You crossed your arms, drawing Yunho’s eyes back to your breasts. "Your chest, Yunho. It's only fair, don't you think?"

Yunho lifted up his shirt hesitantly, not quite sure what you were getting out of this, but a good sport nonetheless.

You walked up to him, getting an eyeful of his chiseled pecs. "Not bad, not bad at all. Mind if I..?" You made a squeezing motion with your hands, and Yunho’s eyes widened. You wanted to grope him?

He swallowed, not sure if he was bold enough to say the words coming to his mind, but he pushed through anyways. "Only if I can yours."

"Done," You said without hesitation.

Your index finger traced the lines of his chest, appreciative of the silky muscles there. Then you cupped his pecs, squeezing and smiling when they flexed at your ministrations. You decided to be cheeky and flick your thumb over one of his nipples. Yunho groaned and then covered his mouth. "Sorry, sorry, I didn't--!"

"Didn't know you liked your nipples played with?" You asked coyly.

Yunho winced, "Not really."

"Wanna see if you like them licked?" You grinned up at Yunho.

Yunho nodded swiftly. He had no idea what he was getting himself into right now, but he was willing to wade into deeper waters if that meant his daydreams could come true.

You watched him as you took the tip of your tongue and played with the tip of his nipple. It pebbled as you did and Yunho started to get hard in his long shorts. No one had ever done this to him but he was starting to understand why women enjoyed it so much.

"Like it?" You asked as you stepped back.

"A lot," Yunho admitted.

You cocked your head at him, eyes watching as he let his shirt fall down and glimpsed his hard on. A lot indeed.

"You think San is doing us a solid and blocking anyone from coming in?" You wondered out loud.

Yunho scratched the back of his head bashfully. "I think he might."

You tipped your head towards the bench then. "I could lick your nipples while I give you a hand job." You shrugged, "Don't think your dick being hard would be a good idea if you intend to go back out there."

"But…" Yunho’s eyes moved back and forth in thought. He wanted to be the one to touch you, but instead, he was the one getting touched.

"Oh, I suppose I haven't let you do anything to me yet." You brought your thumb and forefinger to your chin in thought, "It's not gonna help your boner, unfortunately."

"If you're going to help me get rid of it," Yunho smiled eagerly, "What's adding more fuel to the fire?"

You tucked your fingers under the band of your sports bra, but Yunho stopped you. His dark eyes were on your bosom. "Let me. Please."

You nodded. "Go ahead."

Yunho peeled your top up and groaned as your boobs bounced. He let the weight of your breasts sit in the palms of his hands. He liked how warm they felt. Instead of flicking your nipples like you had his, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and he traced the areola of your nipple. He laughed airily as your nipple puckered for him. "Cute."

You watched, almost with new eyes, as Yunho pinched your other nipple between his finger and thumb and rolled it experimentally. That made you whine in the back of your throat.

Yunho shook his head as if in disbelief, when he said, "Your tits are so nice. And responsive." His eyes met yours. The look in them spoke as if he was sure you'd tell him no. "Can I suck on them now?"

Yunho was being sweet in this moment, and you secretly gave him points for that.

His lips parted, licking them tentatively before taking your nipple in his mouth. His pretty pink lips made an 'o' around your nipple, cheeks hollow to actually suck. The tugging felt good, but you groaned audibly when his tongue licked your nipple while it was in his mouth. Then Yunho decided with your neglected nipple to flatten his tongue and lick and lick and lick. The roughness of his tongue sent a shiver down your spine.

Yunho’s eyes glanced towards yours. "Are you getting wet from this?"

"Mhmmm," You hummed to him.

A flash of a satisfied smile flew across his face before he became serious once again. "Should we move to the benches?" His eyes flitted from yours to said bench. "Might be more comfortable for what you have in mind."

Yunho’s shorts were hanging off one of his ankles, legs spread, and his palms flat on the bench. His head was against the lockers, tossed backward as he lost himself in the pleasure you were giving him.

Your tongue was lazily playing with his nipple as your hand moved up and down his length. You were, in hindsight, a little happy you didn't offer a blow job because you were pretty sure you'd be choking on that dick. You paused licking his nipple to spit on his cock to add more lubricant, and then you settled your teeth around his nipple and pulled carefully. Yunho let out a loud groan and you took that as encouragement.

"So vocal for me, Yunho," You couldn't help but tease, "I'd play with you all day to hear the pretty noises coming from that mouth of yours."

"Fuck," Yunho cursed as your wrist twisted around the head of his cock, "I'm not sure just how much longer I can hold out."

You giggled. "I don't want you to hold out, Yunho. I want to get out there and start practicing. Hurry up and come!"

Moreover, to the point, you sped up your pace, tightened your grip, and played with his nipple with your tongue. Yunho groaned loudly, banging his head against the locker door. "Fuck fuck FUCK!" he swore and then he was coming all over his stomach and your hand. You stroked him until he whimpered and curled over from the overstimulation.

Yunho panted, eyes rolling at the pleasure he had just received. He swore he would thank San later for being a good wingman.

"That--!" His back bowed as you brought your mouth down to the head of his dick and sucked hard. His fingers dived into your hair and yanked your head back. "What are you doing?"

You smiled sneakily, "Just wonder how much farther you'd let me go." You licked your lips, "You taste good, Yunho. Been eating your citrus fruits?"

Yunho watched you walk out of the locker room, having grabbed a towel and wiped your hand with it. You threw it at San, who caught it with his good reflexes. His dimples flashed at you. "Have fun?" San quipped.

"Ask Yunho. Weren't you making sure his needs were taken care of?" Your hips swayed with confidence of a job well done.

"Who's taken care of you then?" San wondered under his breath, eyes following the sway of your hips.

♡Masterlist link~ | Previous Day~ Impregnation, KYS | Next Day~ Edging, CJH

#kvanity #kwritersworldnet #pirateeznet #thekpopuniverse #february filth fest #ateez smut #ღatz #topaz's work #ateez scenarios #atz smut #jeong yunho scenarios #jeong yunho smut #jeong yunho x reader

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factorialsotherfandoms · 4 months

Text

Drafted all the stuff I need done, and could do with something cheerful, so... This isn't really a whole scene, its just some silly hours that were in my head. With the whole taking old games back to the ship to give people something to do, and sure Etoiles is the most competitive, but nobody said anything about everyone else...

XCOM au, but really it's just Pac, Mike, Felps, Cellbit, and Bagi playing Mario Kart (wii version as its the one I know best)

Bagi wakes up to shrieking laughter, and is never more thankful for the sound-cancelling earplugs issued as standard to the entire team. She rolls over - the clock on the wall says she has an hour and a half before her shift, and sat on the floor of the common room are four very familiar faces. Felps is on the couch, almost serene as he sits crossed legged above the chaos below - Mike, leaning over Pac to try and grab Cellbit's controller with a scream of "Bitch!" as Cellbit laughs. Pac is leant back, trying to keep his controller from the chaos. Only his and Felps' characters managing to keep their vehicles on track.

She yawns, and sits up - oh, Christ, Mario Kart.

Somehow the people on the other seven bunks are sleeping through this but, again, sound cancelling earplugs as standard.

"Morning," she yawns in their direction, already thinking about a coffee from the kitchens down below.

Hmmm coffee.

"Morning!" Cellbit leans around of the sofa, mischief in his grin. "Do you want to tab in?"

"Not if you're tagging out," Bagi looks back at the clock, and counts. "Let me grab a shower and you're dead meat."

Cellbit and Mike's squabbling continues.

When she gets back ten minutes later, Felps is now in on the argument, and it seems an intense debate over whether Super Mario Galaxy is a happy game or not.

"Bagi!" Pac and Mike are even more in synch than usual today, matching expressions and tones as they speak. Mike turns back to the argument, seemingly having a blast, while Pac waves his controller and carries on, "help? Or steal a controller and play with me while they fight."

Bagi steals Felps', left unattended to one side. She and Pac are two laps into an especially viscous run of Mushroom Gorge. She's Roselina in a tank of a car, and Pac's playing Peach on a motorbike, and she can only laugh when Cellbit's offended "you started without us!" comes out a bit like a dejected cat.

They are both cat hybrids, but that's really besides the point.

(She hasn't seen his claws since they were children - did he learn better control or something? Doesn't seem like Cellbit, but what does she know of him now?)

"At the end of this race," Pac promises.

"Do you need me to sit out?" Felps offers. "Bagi has my controller anyway, I'm happy to watch."

"You can have mine," Mike offers, a slight wicked grin in his eyes. "Pac and I are only on call for another ten minutes, so I might just go lie down."

"Don't you fucking dare-" starts Cellbit, except that Felps takes the controller and laughs Mike away.

Mike goes and takes the bunk Bagi had been sleeping on, grabbing a clean pillow and then immediately face-planting into the sheets. It's unusually fast - a few seconds later Pac, just over the finish line, turns to her. His eyes aren't right - not brown, and neither green nor blue, but a pale shade somewhere between the two.

He raises a finger to his lips with a wicked, Mike-shaped grin, before turning back to watch Bagi finish the race.

There's not really time for her to think much about that as a fight starts over which track to play. She refuses any part in it, and then goes and selects random anyway.

Rainbow Road.

"Baaaaaaaagi," Cellbit whines for all of a second before curling over his controller, eyes fixed in concentration.

Pac, similarly, knuckles down and prepares for the race.

Felps flexes his wrists - he'd been advocating for it anyway.

Bagi cracks her neck, and sets to work.

It starts with extreme focus, quickly breaking when she sends a red shell straight into Felps, and earns a soft kick between the shoulderblades as it knocks him off the course. That one kick sets everything off - Cellbit elbows Pac to try distract him, only to be the one distracted in turn. Bagi swoops in, using her car's superior weight to drive Pac's bike from the course.

There's laughter winning out as three of the four of their cars are fished out of the depths of space.

It's also time for Cellbit to notice Pac's eyes and yell a quick, "that's cheating!"

"How's it cheating?" Pac asks. "It's the best way for all five of us to play."

The smirk on his face says he absolutely knows it's cheating. Bagi, with only half an idea what's going on, joins him anyway.

"Don't you love Pac?" she asks on his behalf. "And Mike? Why would you not want them to play?"

Bagi, distracted defending him - them? She isn't sure what pronouns to use when Pac and Mike are possessing each other, let alone like this where they seem even more unified than usual - drives herself off the course.

"Oh, fucking shit-bitches," she swears as she's fished back up, the others now taking the lead.

Above her, Felps cackles, while beside her both Pac and Cellbit giggle in their own ways.

Bagi isn't even sure who wins the race, in the end - it quickly devolves into pushing each other off the track, so probably an AI, and she thinks only Pac (and Mike) ever finished.

It doesn't matter though - no sooner is Rainbow Road over than she downs her coffee, slams random track again, and this time she's determined to /win/.

#qsmp fanfic #qsmp x xcom #qsmp bagi #qsmp cellbit #qsmp pac #qsmp mike #qsmp felps #qsmp tazercrafft #pac plays peach as she has the best drift rating and have you seen the pictures from vegas #the others idk just vibes #qsmp au #i'll see if i'm in the mood to upload it later #favela as family #i don't want to abandon this au so i'm not going to #but chewing over how to handle it at present

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batwritings · 2 years

Note

Fuck bed- I’m just gonna drink a shit ton of coffee- it’s too late for me bat- my alarm went off to start to get ready

Also- Bc- adhd curiosity, and I need something to look forwards to after rehearsal- could we get some Eret w/ a breeding kink, but not wanting to give their partner dysphoria- while also- ch I l d re n? Perhaps?

🇬🇧✨ (I did too- god- my history)

Coffee! You got this friend! But please be sure to also drink water, and get some rest when you have the time! Enjoy~!

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

The words had slipped out of your mouth before your sex-addled brain could catch up with you pumping the brakes on that line of thought. "Breed me." Your eyes locked with Eret's, bright white irises matching yours in shock. She adjusts, her member shifting inside you so she could see you better.

"What did you say?" the king whispers softly, disbelief coating her words. "'Breed me?'"

"Eret, i-it's nothing," you stammer, a bright flush coloring your cheeks. You never did have the heart to tell your royal lover about your breeding kink and wow were you hoping he would just move on from your little slip-up just now. Sadly, luck was not on your side that evening.

"Does my sweet little pet want me to breed them?" they hum, voice dipping down to a tone they knew would make you melt. "Make you so full of me? Make you mine, wholly?" You could only nod, completely in awe of this ethereal being.

Eret presses a sweet kiss to your forehead and praises you with a "good pet". Slowly, not wanting to be too rough, does she start to fuck into you again. Your hands intertwine with battle-hardened ones as your start to climb towards your peak again.

"Tell me what you want dearest," your king urges. "Tell your king what it is you crave."

A needy whine falls from your lips at his demands, pleasure blurring your mind. "B-breed me your majesty!" you cry, hand clenching harder to that of your royal partner. "Please breed me! Make me yours!"

A dark chuckle left her throat as she marked along your neck. "Good little pet," he moans, breathy as he neared his own completion. "Come undone for me Y/N. Let your queen claim you."

Far be it from you to deny what royalty is asking of you in their time of need, and yours. Your orgasm washes over you, pleasure flooding your veins. A sharp gasp leaves you as Eret fills you with their own cum, whining softly as you clenching and flex around them.

For a moment the world spins, stars still filling your vision. As it starts to slow does the dysphoria start to creep up on you. You hide your face as best you can in the crook of Eret's neck, a slight whine leaving you. She kisses your head gently, letting her softening member slip from your entrance.

The king holds you as you shiver, working quickly yet gently to clean the mess from between your legs. Wrapping you up in your favorite blanket, the question falls from your lips. "Did you actually want to...breed me?" you ask in a small voice.

"Darling," Eret starts, waiting for you to look at him. He brushes his hand along your cheek which you gratefully lean into. "I know how that would make you feel. Breeding isn't just about pregnancy. Wanting to be bred can be just what we did tonight, like a claiming thing. But only if that's what you want."

You thought for a moment before nodding in understanding. "I do want that," you mumble out, slightly unsure. "Is that okay?"

"Of course it is darling, it always will be."

#bat writes #anon reqs #🇬🇧✨anon #eret smut #dsmp smut #mcyt smut

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bruhstories · 2 years

Note

Lmao slut is back pls may i request a hc of the different ways marc/steven/jake choke you

If you would prefer just Steven thats okay!!!

asdfgh fellow slut, i am so glad you included jake because i have plans for this man (but i'll only start writing fics with him after they include him in the show cause i really want to see their take on jake) i also got a lil carried away writing the headcanons for jake, muh bad

anyhoooooo here we go, hoes

Marc

It comes natural for Marc to choke you, like his fight or flight instincts kick in and he needs to overpower you

He's quite rough with you, basically manhandling you, calling you a greedy slut

But gradually, he's craving something else, something sweeter

Marc's hand leaves your neck, he presses kisses all over your face and chest

His fingers dig into the plush of your hips and he rolls you over, so that you ride him

You go to town, arching your back, moaning his name, feeling your tits

But then you hover over him, and now your hand is on his neck

At first, he's perplexed, completely shocked by the new sensation, and his first thought is to snatch your hand away, because who the hell are you to choke him?

Yet he can't help but be enthralled by how good it feels

And the feeling of having control over Marc has you dizzy with pleasure

"You're mine, Marc Spector-" You pant, chest rising and falling, and he can't help but fall even more in love with you, if that's even possible

It's safe to say he's found his new kink

Steven

Kind, sweet, nice Steven was baffled when you begged him to choke you

He protested at first, worried that his muscle memory might have him squeeze too hard

But Steven could never say no to you

You decided to have a safe word to make him feel more comfortable (spoiler, you didn't use it)

Because he's inexperienced, you guide his hand, help him wrap his fingers around your neck

Harder, please!" You urge him, and he delivers

When he sees just how drunk you are on his cock, he doesn't care if he leaves a mark

Steven fucks you like there’s no tomorrow, the amount of control he has over your body only bringing him closer to the edge

You're stuck between agony and ecstasy, and you wrap your legs around his waist

The blocked airflow is making you delirious, and you dig your nails into his arms

Afraid you might faint, Steven lets go of your neck

He wants to pull out, but you only flex your leg muscles harder

"Don't you d-dare!" You threaten him. "Make me yours, Steven."

The last sentence is enough to have him reach his climax

Khonshu better get ready for grandkids

Jake

Jake is... something else. Sure, he's the coy, laid-back cab driver to others, but you know better. You know much better

This is the type of man who would break someone's kneecaps for even breathing next to you

This is also the type of man who eats pussy for his pleasure, the fact that you enjoy it is just an added bonus

For Jake, choking is tame, vanilla, even, because he takes pleasure in making you suffer (consensually)

At first, he wasn’t interested in even talking to you

But then little old you caught his attention with how adaptable you were with Marc and his alters

And with Jake, you allowed yourself to enjoy a bit (a lot) of pain

It’s a match made in hell because this man doesn’t just fuck, he turns you into his own personal pocket pussy

When he chokes you, it’s never with his bare hands, because he always fucks you from behind

Instead, he uses anything he can find – his tie, your panties, rope

It’s sloppy and harsh, lots of hair pulling, biting, scratching, spanking – as long as you’re bruised and sore, then he’s done a good job

Oh, but you love it, although sometimes you have to use a safeword because he tends to get a little carried away

Jake’s not great with aftercare, but he tries his best – carries you to the bathroom, brings you food, puts on a movie, but he rarely talks

He prefers it if you talk (because his heart flutters when he sees how passionate you get about subjects you enjoy but he won’t admit that, not yet)

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vodika-vibes · 4 months

Note

Vali’s got this 💪

She does! She's tougher than she looks, and everyone knows it.

"You seem to be healing nicely, kiddo." Echo says from the doorway, his gaze locked on Vali's prosthetic leg...a leg that identical to his. Vali smiles at him weakly, "We match, Echo." "We do." He lifts his own prosthetic arm, and flexes his hand, "I'm sorry it took me so long to get here." "S'alright. You were on vacation." Vali slides up her hospital bed, wincing when she puts weight on her prosthetic arm, "It still hurts." "Yeah," Echo's laugh is humorless, "Mine does too sometimes. It gets better, though." He crosses the room and sits on the edge of the bed, "How are you holding up?" Vali flexes her new hand, a thoughtful look on her face, "I thought I was going to die in that mountain. I accepted that I was going to die...it feels weird that I'm not." Echo slides his hand through Vali's short hair, "Your dad has you in therapy, I hope?" "Course he does. I start next week. The Order is supplying a 'Mind healer'. Which I think is the same thing as a therapist." Vali replies. "I think Callie needs to see one too. She winces whenever she sees me." "Fives was the same way, after I was rescued. That, my darling baby sister, is guilt." Vali looks at him, questioningly, "Did you even hesitate before you decided to sacrifice yourself for the Twins and your sister?" "No. Of course not. I'm the oldest, it was my responsibility." "Callie's probably struggling with that." Echo murmurs sadly, "Also, you're 14. It wasn't your responsibility." "No one else was there. It was my responsibility." Vali says with a shake of her head, "I might have been knocked down, Echo, but I'm not out." She grins at him, "After all, you were an excellent soldier after you got your prosthetics. If I can be half the person you are than I think I'm still pretty solid." Echo exhales slowly, and pulls her into a tight hug, "Me, Fives, and Jesse can put you through ARC training as soon as you're healed. Assuming Rex is okay with it." He kisses the top of her head, "You're going to be more than 'pretty solid', kid. You're going to be the best."

#star wars #clone creche

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smeddiemunson · 1 year

Note

90, 161 and 188 please 🧛‍♂️🖤

Thank you @steddie-as-he-goes I hope you like it!

i see your little vampire emoji so you get vampire!eddie 🖤

90: Catch me if you can! 161: Bite me. 188: Mine.

warnings: mature content, light predator/prey dynamics, light blood kink.

Ever since the Upside Down bled through the cracks in the earth, Hawkins only dealt in extremes.

The sun was beating hot above his head, the water of Steve's pool was cool against the skin of his legs and Eddie was hungry.

Eddie knew hunger. He knew nights of going to bed with nothing more than water in his stomach, having told Wayne that he had eaten and that the food left in the fridge (still only a meager offering) was all for him to enjoy. He knew what it meant to crave, to salivate at the mere idea of food.

Or at least he thought he did.

The moment his eyes snapped open, chained to a hospital bed in an underground lab, everything Eddie thought he knew was thrown out of the window.

Hunger for food paled in comparison to the way he hungered for blood.

"You're quiet today," Steve observed. He had been doing laps of the pool, a piece of normalcy while they waited, endlessly waited, for Vecna to show his hand, but he came to a stop next to Eddie.

Eddie turned his face to the sun. Not a moment passed where he wasn't thankful that that piece of lore had turned out to be wrong.

"I'm hungry."

Steve let out a gentle 'ah'.

He was so understanding, his Steve.

"I think I need to hunt too."

This was something they didn't talk about. Eddie was a predator now, he had instincts that he fought tooth and nail with every day. He tracked deer and foxes through the forest behind Steve’s house but their blood wasn’t enough to satisfy.

Steve placed a hand on Eddie's calf, lightly flexing his fingers against the skin until Eddie was forced to look at him. He smiled and let go, using his feet to push off the wall, further into the pool out of Eddie's reach.

"Catch me if you can!" He teased playfully.

Eddie felt as if he couldn't possibly love a person more than he did Steve in that moment.

Steve was a far better swimmer than Eddie, but Eddie possessed a preternatural stamina that Steve couldn't dream of matching. It would satiate the need for now.

Eddie threw himself into the pool, water splashed onto the pool coping that Steve would tut over later if it hadn't evaporated by then.

Steve gasped and scrambled into a front crawl, lithely parting the water as he swam to the edge furthest away from Eddie. He paused long enough to tread the water, to laugh at Eddie moving much less gracefully, to wait until Eddie got close enough to hear the blood singing in his veins so he could dart away and begin their chase again.

And it continued that way. Steve would sometimes roll over onto his back so he could watch as Eddie tried to keep up with him, so he could figure out exactly what Eddie was trying to do and make sure he foiled the plan before it could start.

When Steve finally started flagging (sooner than Eddie had been anticipating) Eddie didn't toy with him. He caught up just enough to wrap a hand around Steve's ankle and pull.

Steve flailed against the water, head dipping under and hands grabbing for purchase against nothing, but he didn't fight the pull. He never fought the pull when Eddie was hungry.

Eddie got him around the waist, holding Steve against his chest, feeling the way his breath came in huge gulps. Steve’s blood called to him.

"You fucked up my hair," Steve spluttered as he settled into Eddie's hold, stretching his neck back to rest his head on Eddie’s shoulder.

Eddie didn't respond, didn't tell him that it was fucked up anyway. He nosed at the side of Steve's neck, inhaling the scent of chlorine and sweat, letting his lips rest over his beating pulse. He pushed his hips forward, pushing his half-hard cock into the meat of Steve’s ass.

Steve groaned at the contact. He twisted around in Eddie's hold so he had something to hold onto as Eddie slowly backed them into the shallow end of the pool. He wasn’t coherent enough to hold them both above the water while he fed.

"Come on, Eddie," Steve whispered. His back touched the wall of the pool and his legs opened to cradle Eddie's body against him, hooking his ankles around Eddie’s thighs. "Bite me."

Eddie was helpless but to obey. He wanted to tease, he wanted to make Steve beg for it, to pull those delicious whimpers and mewls from his lips.

But he was hungry.

He held eye contact with Steve for a moment longer. Long enough to tap the pointer finger of his left hand against Steve’s neck twice, long enough for Steve to tap Eddie’s right shoulder twice in response.

The noise Steve made as his flesh was pierced was nothing short of pornographic. His finger nails dug into Eddie’s deltoid, his other hand held Eddie’s head against his neck, as if Eddie could ever bear to leave his space there.

Blood poured into Eddie’s mouth, filling his mouth in hot bursts. It spilled past the corners of his lips in his desperation for more.

“Oh, fuck. Oh, Eddie,” Steve chanted. “Take everything you need, baby. I’m yours!”

He was sobbing and shaking and just letting Eddie take. He was giving himself over completely, as he always did.

It took every ounce of self control Eddie possessed to pull away when he heard Steve’s words beginning to slur together.

Eddie pushed their clothed cocks together, watching as Steve arched into the touch, so sensitive with ever nerve ending alight. He was at full hardness, desperate to be touched.

Steve, looking at him with glassy eyes from blood loss and arousal, gently untangled his fingers from Eddie’s hair, always gentle. He used the thumb of of that hand to swipe up the blood coating Eddie’s chin.

“Mine,” he whispered in wonder as he pushed the thumb into Eddie’s mouth. “Me.”

Eddie licked up every drop that Steve pushed into his mouth.

His Steve, too precious to waste even a single atom.

“Always you,” Eddie promised.

He kissed Steve soundly, pushing his tongue past the seam of Steve’s lips so he could taste just how delicious he was.

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie-as-he-goes #ask #oops i got carried away #i just love a set up #would you believe me if i said i've never written vampire stuff before even though it's one of my favourite tropes #my fic #also lmao at me ever pretending that I wouldn’t immediately feel the need to fill the prompts #my assignments are going well though! I feel good about them!#prompt fill

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nitewrighter · 1 year

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okay hi i have a lot of prompts and stuff to suggest bc i am the person that spent all night reading the kids continuity fic

- aedan and rei domesticity they are so cute

- aedan growing stubble, running out of razors, asking the twins for a razor and they flex and say they use hard light razors. then aedan having to ask jack where the razors are because he doesn’t know (this would probably be around the time he asks him about reaper LMAO)

- marti aim training with amelie?

- obv there’s already been a lot of gency but maybe some of them talking about rei and aedan and being nosy

- more genji pleeeeease he’s so cute <\3

Argh I have a really strong Marti idea but I've got a bit of brain burnout and my idea for her doesn't really match what you're describing and also I haven't written Aedan and Rei in what feels like ages and I miss theeemmmm. Also I like the idea of having some kind of... honeymoon post-Dragonback stuff and also Live Mercy Reaction.

-----

The afternoon sunlight was blazing outside, but Aedan could hardly tell with the windows tinted. He was chewing on his thumbnail as he watched a holographic projection of Andrea's cells. The sample wasn't nearly as stable as he'd like, given the fact that it was mixed with his own blood, but Morrison and Reyes's DNA at least made it easy to quickly distinguish the cells before they morphed back to nanites. She was virtually gone from his system at this point, so he knew any creeping feeling of her still in there had to be purely psychosomatic.

He managed to identify and isolate one of Andrea's neutrophils before it was destroyed and scan it quickly enough to create a rough holographic projection, and he rotated the projection in the air, frowning. He heard the whoosh of the lab doors opening behind him and said, without turning around, "Do you think I could get a blood sample from Morrison?"

"Maybe if you sneak up on him," a voice that was clearly not Mercy's spoke up from behind him and he glanced over his shoulder to see Rei holding two bento boxes.

"...thought you were your mother," he said blankly and Rei made a crinkly-eyed, pressed-lip smile at him, "Sorry--that was weird, wasn't it?"

"Not that weird," said Rei, setting the boxes down on the desk a safe distance from the monitor's keyboard and pulling up a chair, "It's nice that you finally have more lab privileges."

"You missed a lot in LA!" Aedan spun in his chair slightly to face her, "I mean, Marti and the others definitely trust me more than the old guard, but still, there's been a lot of progress!"

"'People will let you experiment with their blood' progress?" Rei arched an eyebrow.

"Well... no. But I was thinking I might be able to delineate the effects of the SEP serum better and isolate the stabilizing factors of his DNA if I have a sample," Aedan had fallen back to his previous train of thought.

"You've been at this for hours," said Rei, looking at the hologram.

"I just... wish I was able to find out more before my body destroyed all evidence of her," murmured Aedan.

"Well, what do you know so far?" asked Rei, looking at the projection.

"I know she's stable--incredibly stable."

Rei snorted.

"Well not mentally, obviously, but cellularly. I've never seen such seamless transitions between nanite and cell. I mean I thought her nanite secretions weren't as prominent as mine because she wasn't working with a biotic rig, or--you know, because she was kicking my ass, but I think mum managed to really perfect the metabolic processes with her," he made a kind of flailing, spread fingered gesture at the white blood cell hologram with both hands, "Just... specimen."

He felt Rei's hands lightly but firmly close around his shoulders

"Should I be concerned you're gushing about the girl who collapsed your ribcage?" Rei cooed, rubbing her thumbs at the tops of his shoulder blades, "And her perfect, perfect cells?"

The initial touch gave Aedan an involuntary shudder, but he melted into his seat as she worked at the knots at the back of his neck. "A lus na gréine, you have nothing to worry about. She's my sister from another amnio... nister... tank..."

"Okay that is low blood sugar talking." Rei slipped her hands from his shoulders and grabbed one of the bento boxes, plopping it in his lap, "Eat." She grabbed her own chair and bento box and sat down.

"It's just.. a weird relief in a way," he said quietly, still looking at the hologram, "One of the reasons I was made was to help try and find ways to stabilize Reyes. But if anyone's going to save him, it's her."

"Yeeahh it is a weird relief that she's going to save the guy who wants us all dead," Rei agreed, stirring up her own box. Aedan saw green. Some kind of salad?

"...I don't think he wanted you dead," Aedan said.

Rei looked up from her own bento box to him.

"There was a moment back in Urdr when we were shuffling through in those stolen uniforms, you were still a bit drugged up. He looked right at us and I could have sworn he knew it was me, he knew something was off, but he just... let us go."

"Well he must have changed his mind if he's sending Daughter Dearest after us," said Rei, taking a bite.

Aedan scoffed. "He could barely look at me knowing what I was, there's no way he would agree to--" Aedan caught himself and his face dropped, "...there's no way he would agree to Talon making another him."

Rei's chewing slowed. "...so it's messing him up just as much as Jack, probably?"

"Probably," Aedan shrugged.

"Eat," Rei said again, pointing at his bento box with her own chopsticks, and Aedan shuffled his chair slightly away from the holo-monitor closer to her, opened his own box, and started eating across from her. It seemed to be a loose interpretation of a sushi bowl, brown rice and surimi and edamame, with extra greens and a sliced up hardboiled egg on the side, all drizzled with sesame oil and soy sauce and doused with furikake and red pepper flakes.

"Avocado..." Aedan said, "The Californians got to you."

"Don't knock it. You need monounsaturated fats," said Rei.

"I'm not--thank you, for making this," said Aedan. He took a bite and immediately felt the calories hit in the only way they can when you've forgotten to eat for a lot longer than you'd care to admit.

"It's just tossing a bunch of stuff together in the mess hall, it's a lot better equipped than it was when I was a kid, really," Rei held up the bento box, "But I had to bring these from home."

"Back home with the folks, huh?" Aedan perked up in his seat, poking around.

Rei huffed through her nostrils, choosing her words as she chewed. "It's nice... " she said slowly.

Aedan considered leading with 'But..?' to prompt her to say more, but decided humor might be the better route.

"Ah, but you've tasted the freedom of Hollywood," Aedan waved his chopsticks around, "And so the tinseltown dreams have taken roost in your heart. Your soul forever unsatisfied until you're once again in the dazzling spotlight."

Rei snickered. "I was a stunt. And... it was weird. Using all my training to.. pretend to fight--even if it was as my childhood hero. And like, the whole time I had this nagging feeling that even if I could make a career out of it, I'd always feel a hole where the dragon was. And I felt like... everyone back here was throwing themselves into danger while I was licking my wounds and bouncing around in silly costumes. But now I'm back here and... I don't know. We fly everywhere. We go on these missions, but the world feels smaller somehow. It feels like a wall's come back up."

"You're telling me that squatting on a rocket launch facility and traveling pretty much exclusively for missions feels limited compared to having free rein in one of the biggest cities and entertainment capitals of the world?" Aedan smiled.

"Okay, when you put it like that--" Rei cut herself off to chew some more surimi.

"I felt the same way about Oasis," Aedan shrugged, "Even if it is a young city, it's done everything in its power to draw the greatest minds from all over the world. One of the tourism boards wanted to bill it as 'The New House of Wisdom' except that got shot down because it felt a little archaic, potentially orientalist, possibly muscling in on Baghdad's tourism... and also like it might be inviting disaster. But, point stands, you felt special while you were there. Chosen."

"And you miss all your fancy 'son of the minister of genetics' perks," Rei smiled.

"Not nearly as much as I used to, these days," said Aedan, "I might either be going crazy or Jack might be onto something about that 'building character' stuff."

Rei snorted. "Maybe I'm just being weird about moving back into my childhood room."

"Well I should let you know that in your absence I've upgraded the dormitories into quite the bachelor pad. Convinced the twins to put in some hard-light privacy dividers, moved some of the extra beds into storage...the holo-projector was always in there, but I have a couch now!"

"Aedan O'Deorain, are you inviting me to your place?"

"Door's open," said Aedan, shrugging.

Her mouth just quirked off to one side in a smile and they both continued eating, letting that percolate in the air between them.

Rei was scraping up stray edamame beans and bits of furikake from the edges of her bento box when she noticed Aedan had set his empty bento aside and his attention was drifting back to the giant hologram of the neutrophil, his expression hollow and searching. He had pretty much inhaled his food, which was good, but Rei had seen enough of Marti, Samir, and her own mother to know when someone's brain had driven them into a rut that they weren't going to get out of without help.

"You know, if she's already out of your system, it's not like you'll find new data now that you can't find later," said Rei.

"Mm?" Aedan looked back at her.

"You need a break," said Rei.

"But---there's the flow factor," said Aedan.

"Oh, the flow factor," said Rei, rising from her seat.

"And like, yes, this is probably trauma talking, but I want to feel like I came away from that fight with a bit more than memories of a giant hole in my chest."

"Aedan," Rei braced her hands on both of his forearms on the seat's armrests, "We did."

She looked at him expectantly with those big, dark gray eyes, and his own eyes widened. Technically, it had been a mission accomplished. They had set out with the intention of getting the dragon back, and, miraculously, they had gotten it back, even if it was far from the circumstances any of them actually imagined getting it. Surviving an encounter with Talon when none of them were really equipped for that level of combat was nothing to sneeze at, either.

And there was the other thing, Aedan thought, as Rei's mouth closed on his.

Surimi and hard-boiled egg, in general, are not the optimum pre-making-out foods, and Aedan honestly could have used a nap and a shower in either order, but after hours of staring at blood samples and holograms of the woman who had nearly killed him, just the sensation of having Rei on his lips made none of that matter. That itch wasn't gone from the back of his mind, though. He wanted to do more, to claw just a little further ahead in this fight, to find something that would turn the tide. He wanted the fight to be over. He wanted the world to feel open for her--for her to go to LA or Oasis or wherever she wanted, to not have to worry about everyone back here.

She sank into his lap and his arms wrapped around her, letting even those stubborn thoughts melt away, if only for now, if only for a few moments. He hefted her up in his lap and he felt her breath puff out of her nostrils in an amused sound--maybe he was adjusting her to get to a more comfortable position, maybe he wanted to get the point across that he had put some muscle on with Marti's team, but either way she dove into the kiss hungrily. Aedan's arm curled around her more, trailing up her back, as his other hand brushed down her hip.

And then there was the vwoosh of the lab door opening.

"Aedan, I'm going to need to commandeer the holo-projector from you for a minute, one of my colleagues sent---" Mercy glanced up from her tablet to see Rei and Aedan, staring at her, tangled up precariously in one swivel chair.

"...Rei," Mercy said, straightening herself up in the doorway.

"Mom," Rei said, not making any movement to get out of Aedan's arms.

"Eh--" Aedan squeaked, sheet white with ears redder than his hair.

"I can come back later," Mercy said with a terrifying blankness.

"Mom--" Rei started, but Mercy put both hands up as the door whooshed close in front of her once more.

Aedan's heart was pounding in his ears. "She's going to kill me."

"She's not going to kill you," Rei rolled her eyes.

"She's going to kill me," said Aedan, his mind blank with terror.

"Aedan, we're adults, it's fine."

"You didn't tell her!?"

"I was going to tell her," Rei gestured vaguely, "You know... when I figured out how."

---

Genji was at Athena's main monitor browsing through some old Blackwatch files when the door opened behind him. He caught the barest reflection of her silhouette before turning around and brightly greeting her with, "Angela!" before quickly realizing that she was panting hard and her hair was disheveled. "Did you... run across the Watchpoi--?"

"When were you going to tell me?" Mercy's voice was almost a growl.

"Tell you... what--?""

"Our daughter! And the clone! I mean--the boy! Moira-clone-boy!"

"Aedan," Genji said easily.

"They were in the lab... c-canoodling!"

"Canoodling?" Genji repeated.

Mercy huffed out a tense breath, "...kissing," she clarified.

"Oh," said Genji, visibly relaxing.

"Did you know about this?" Mercy briskly closed the distance between them.

"Well... emotions did get a little high in Shirakami-Sanchi, but it wasn't really relevant to the mission debriefing."

Mercy just folded her arms in front of him.

"And... I figured it was Rei's business to tell you."

"Well yes but--" Mercy caught herself, now coming to terms with the fact that she had raced over her out of an outrage that she was far from being able to articulate, and the more she thought on it, the more (frustratingly) her sense of her right to outrage seemed to slip away from her.

"I feel like we've had this discussion before," said Genji.

"We said there was a possibility, that's very different from them making out in the lab."

"Oh no! Not the lab!" Genji said with clear amusement, "No one's ever made out in that lab before!"

Mercy's shoulders slumped and she looked at him sourly.

"I'm sorry---" Genji caught himself, "Obviously, I've had more time to come to terms with this, and I was there when things... started, sort of--"

"What do you mean 'sort of?'"

"Well it's in the debrief that both Rei and Aedan were missing from our campsite when they encountered Andrea. Rei's debrief says she was going back to the pond to try summoning the dragon again, and Aedan's debrief said he had headed away from the camp to relieve himself, but... I'm not ruling out the the possibility that they also could have snuck off together."

"They were sneaking off together under yours and Hanzo's noses!?"

"Honestly with the state Rei was in during that whole trip, it seems pretty unlikely that they were doing that," Genji murmured.

"Genji..." Mercy pressed her knuckles to her forehead, the burn of outrage now simmering down to exhausted frustration.

"Look--don't worry about that. What I'm saying is, when we let her go off to LA, we agreed we would trust her judgment, right?"

"Yes..." Mercy said slowly, lowering her hands.

"And you do like Aedan--I mean, I know it's been hard for you, overcoming everything you know Moira is capable of, but you two really have come a long way since he's joined the team."

"He is a good lab assistant," Mercy conceded, before muttering, "Though clearly he's gotten a bit too comfortable in that lab."

"Plus... it's not like we can really judge on the whole 'falling in love with your rescuer' thing," Genji stroked a knuckle down her jawline.

Mercy's lips were pursed, but a smile was tugging at the corner of her mouth as she glanced off.

"And if it's any consolation, I know he's still terrified of you," said Genji.

Mercy snorted. "It is fun to put the fear of god into him," she mused. She paused, still not meeting his eyes, before sighing and slumping her forehead onto his shoulder. "I'll be fine," she said, her voice reverberating against his cybernetic chestplate, clearly trying to convince herself just as much as him, "It will be fine. I can be calm about this."

"You really ran across the watchpoint, huh?" Genji brought his arms around her and rubbed her back a little.

"...yes," she admitted, and he just chuckled and set his chin on her head.

#I recently watched Legion of Superheroes and Supergirl/Braniac-5 have SUCH Reidan energy #sunshine girl who's a little aggro and awkward genius clone no one trusts--it them...#reidan #gency #follow for more gency kid facts #moiraspawn

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