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let-me-love-you-loki · 2 years

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Welcome to Oblivion--Ch. 40

Chapter 40

I sat in the armchair while Seth sat on the couch a few feet away. Several quiet minutes had passed since I’d kissed him, and he was still staring at the faded rings on the coffee table. I tucked my feet beneath me and let him think or do whatever it was he needed. Whatever happened, we had to talk this out. Otherwise it was going to ruin the friendship between Roman, Dean, and Seth. And I wasn’t about to let that happen.

While I waited, I thought about the first time I met Seth—and I wasn’t counting running into him in the hallway that night—in the line at the school coffee shop. The first thing I’d noticed was his smile with that little gap between his front teeth. His dark, melted chocolate eyes. As we got to know each other, I’d grown fond of his sarcasm and his absolutely insane laugh and his coffee addiction that rivaled my own.

Seth finally looked over at me, eyes confused and concerned. “Is this supposed to feel normal?”

I shrugged. “It’s gotten to where it feels normal for me. I don’t know how Roman and Dean would answer, but they haven’t broken up with me or stopped talking to each other.” I let out a sigh and propped my elbow against the arm of the chair. “People look at us funny sometimes, but it works for us.”

“How does it… work?” He gestured into the air at nothing, and I wasn’t sure what he meant. I quirked a brow. “Dating both of them at the same time.”

A smile curled my lips. “It’s like having three relationships in one. There’s me and Roman, then me and Dean, and then the three of us together.”

It was odd to see Seth Rollins quiet. He might have been a little shy, but usually his entire demeanor was rambunctious and gregarious. It was wide eyed and funny and fueled by triple shot espresso. But now, he sat there on the arm of the sofa looking at me.

More like looking through me actually. His eyes were fixed on my stomach, but I could see that they were unfocused. Far away.

“Seth?” I asked quietly. I wanted to reach for him, but I was afraid to. He blinked a few times. As if he were waking from some deep and thick dream. His head tipped back. I felt the heavy touch of his gaze over my face. It was heady and terrifying.

“Addison…” His voice sounded thick and low when he said my name. I couldn't remember the last time he'd called me by my full name. Of course, we'd only known each other for seven months or so. Not long in the grand scheme of things.

Seth took a breath. I watched his shoulders square. My heart took off behind my ribs. I was certain he was about to quietly and gently break my heart to pieces. I braced, ready for the blow.

“How is this supposed to work?” he asked after another moment if quiet. “I mean, the three of you already have this… thing together. I'll be the odd man out.”

My heart thumped hard before settling into something resembling a normal rhythm. I'd been so terrified that he wouldn't want this. That he wouldn't want to at least try. But here he was, cocky Seth Rollins, unsure of himself and his place in this strange tangle that Dean, Roman, and I had.

“It's honestly not very different than what we are now, Seth. At least, what it was before you decided to be a massive jerk and try to leave,” I replied with a small smile. I stepped closer and settled my hand against his wrist. The one with the tattoo of a burning page and the word forever. Not for the first time, I wondered what had made him get it.

He looked away, a self-conscious tilt to his mouth. “It was weird… how I felt about you. You were so happy with Ro and Dean and I didn't want to mess that up.”

“Do you know what happened when I found out you were transferring? How I found out?” Seth shook his head meekly. I hated how he looked so unsure of himself. “I heard you in the bookstore. I was behind you in line.”

His shoulders sank. “Addy… I should have told you. I should have had the guts to tell you—to tell all of you—that I was thinking about leaving. To be out of the way of all this…”

I tugged his arm gently and guided him to press his hand against my hip. My other hand settled on his cheek. “Dean found me on the way to my dorm–I'd been avoiding coming here for days after I heard you. I couldn't bear the thought of hurting you by being here. Of coming between this brotherhood the three of you have. I fell apart sobbing on the quad when I told him.”

“That's how they found out.” His fingers squeezed the flesh of my hip as he carefully drew me closer. After a moment, he leaned forward and rested his forehead against my collarbone. “I'm so sorry, Addy. I wish I'd done all of this differently.”

I settled my hand on the back of his head. His hair was soft and frizzy, and I couldn’t help but stroke my fingers against it. “You’re absolutely stupid, Seth. You know that, don’t you?”

He wrapped his arms around my waist, locking his hands together at the base of my spine. “It would be hard not to at this point,” Seth laughed dryly. He sighed.

“You’re just like Dean. He was stupid about it, too,” I replied, scratching my nails against his scalp. Some of the tension seemed to slip out of him. “Dragged me to that stupid cage fight and pulled that stunt in the locker room. When all he and Roman had to do was sit down and talk to me. Like… I don’t know… adults.”

Seth snorted. “There’s nothing about the three of us that screams ‘adult,’ sweets.”

My heart skipped behind my ribs. He’d called me that a few times, starting right after that day when I ate all of Roman’s carb load snacks from the fridge. Somehow it felt like it had a brand new meaning now.

“You’ve got that right,” I teased. “Roman’s the only one who had the balls to actually ask me out like a normal guy. The other two of you… you’re idiots. But you’re my idiots. And I care about you, Seth. As a friend…”

He stiffened. “You kiss all your friends like that, Addison?”

I smacked him hard in the shoulder. “Don’t interrupt,” I snapped. “Jesus, the three of you are ridiculous.”

“That doesn’t answer the question,” he said with a frown.

Frustration bubbled up inside me. I was overcome with the urge to pop him across the face. I closed my eyes and forced myself to take a few breaths. The last thing I wanted just then was to mess up whatever fragile little thing that was happening between the two of us. “You’ve been my friend for months now, Seth Rollins. And no matter what happens between us, that’s important to me. But I care about you like this, too.”

I took a few deep breaths and let my hands settle on the sides of Seth’s face. My fingers tilted his head up so that I could look into those chocolate eyes. I slid my thumbs over his cheekbones before leaning over to press my lips against his. Electricity crackled up my spine as his arms wrapped tighter around me. My whole body felt hot and light in a way that was completely different from how it felt when Roman or Dean kissed me.

Seth stood, and pulled me hard against his chest. His hands were rough as they slipped down my back to curl around the back of my thighs. I let out a gasp against his lips as he lifted me from the ground without warning. My legs wrapped around his waist and I dug my fingers into his hair, tugging at the knot of his dark brown locks.

A thousand thoughts burst through my mind. I’d never expected that trying to talk to Seth would end up like this. But my heart beating hard behind my ribs and the breath caught in my throat was enough to make me lose track of everything else. There was just quiet and the warm touch of his lips.

He moved with a blind practice back to the sofa, where he sank down against the cushions. He let out a faint sigh as he leaned back. My body tingled from the way his thumbs kneaded into the flesh of my thighs.

“Is this okay?” he asked quietly.

I smiled and pressed my palms against his cheeks. His beard was soft beneath my fingers. I watched his eyes as they brushed over my face. His mouth curled up in a smile that showed off the little gap between his front teeth.

“What do you mean?” I replied.

Seth pressed a kiss beneath the curve of my jaw. He breathed against my neck, nuzzling the tip of his nose against the skin. I slipped my fingers through his long brown hair. It was soft. With every move, the scent of shampoo wafted up around me. It had a sharp, deep scent that was heady in a way. I sighed and thought of dark chocolate and coffee.

“I never meant for this to happen, Addy,” he said quietly. “All I wanted was to be your friend. I promise.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Seth, you don’t have to explain anything. There’s honestly nothing normal about this. It doesn’t matter how or why or when. I’ve stopped trying to make sense of it.”

“Just because I feel this way…” His palms stroked the outside of my thighs, thumbs massaging circles into my hips on each pass. “It doesn’t mean you have to go along with it if you don’t feel the same.”

His eyes went wide when I laughed again. I cradled his face in my hands and gave his head a little shake. “Stop being so stupid,” I said with a grin. “If I didn’t feel the same way, I don’t think I would have kissed you. Now would I?”

____

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shaguro · 2 days

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synposis: the story of how you met your sugar-daddy, nanami, at the cafe you work at. ♡ (the prequel to this drabble!)

ੈ✩‧₊˚ tags: sugar daddy nanami! (college student/barista reader x coo nanami), reader is fem, age gap (nanami is 30, reader is 24.), ceo gojo cameo at the start, flirty nd playful banter btwn reader nd nanami, anna is reader's coworker nd friend. nanami calls reader sweetheart once, nanami is just smitten with her as soon as he sees her. sweet fluff! as a whole, this is very light-hearted and unserious y'all. — w.c: 2.2k. ♡

angel's note: consider this my official comeback from my hiatus! thank you so much @preciousamethyst for beta-reading, love you downn. ♡

“you’re telling me out of the five blind-dates that i set up . . . you didn’t like any of them? not even a little bit?” satoru asks incredulously, the french-vanilla latte in his hand almost spilling on the table as he leans forward. “you’re too damn picky, nanamin! they all seemed like nice, respectable ladies to me.”

nanami sighs, looking up from his laptop with an annoyed expression on his face. “the last one didn’t have any teeth . . . and can you keep it down? i’m trying to focus and you’re making a scene, as usual.”

“oh, heh. my bad.”

nanami’s eyes linger on the white-haired man for a moment before focusing on the screen in front of him again. he’s not sure why satoru tagged along to this new cafe with him on his lunch break. (when he clearly stopped visiting his favorite one to avoid him.) it’s not like nanami could say no, anyway — satoru is his boss. his annoying and extremely invasive boss who always finds a way to be in his way and in his business.

it goes without saying that his dating life is certainly not off-limits.

unwrapping the chocolate eclair he just bought, satoru takes a bite of the puffy pastry, humming once the sugary goodness hits his tastebuds. “you were right, nanamin. this does taste amazing.“ he pauses between his words to lick chocolate off his bottom lip, then off his fingers. “maybe we need to try a different approach . . . dating apps! ever tried tinder or bumble—“

“no.” nanami slams his laptop closed, shooting all satoru’s incoming questions down. “i don’t need your help. let’s try ‘letting things happen naturally and staying out of my business’ for a change, yeah?”

“but i have everything planned out! it’ll take me two seconds to make your profile and i have the perfect bio for you — thirty year old trick looking for a pretty woman to spend all my money on — how’s that sound?”

“terrible.” nanami deadpans, placing his laptop into his briefcase. he lifts the sleeve of his shirt, checking the time on his breitling navitimer before standing from his seat. “you have fun with that. i’m getting my pastry to go, i’ll see you back at the office.”

satoru’s jaw is on the floor. “but, nanami—“

without another word, nanami leaves a whining gojo to make his way towards the line that was, thankfully, empty. the baristas don’t notice him, backs turned while they talk to each other by the back counter and nanami doesn’t mind — it gives him more time to decide on what pastry he wants anyway.

truly, he doesn’t understand the obsession surrounding his love life. while nanami is looking, he is by no means desperate. even he knew it was a bad idea to present yourself as a sugar daddy on a dating app, unless you’re an idiot or just lacking a single ounce of dignity.

both categories that satoru fits into, nanami thinks.

kneeling slightly for a better view at the assorted desserts behind the crystalline-glass case, nanami’s unsure of which one to choose. this cafè’s selection is extensive, they offer much more than what he’s used to; tarts, cakes and pastries that he’s never even seen before. ultimately, he opts to keep it simple with one of his favorites: a fluffy cinnamon roll with extra vanilla glaze.

“girl, i’ve been working real hard and i still don’t have enough saved to pay tuition.” you murmur, scooping a handful of coffee grounds into the filter and shaking the brew funnel to level them. “i’m stressed out.”

nanami’s eyes flicker to where the two of you stand. while he’s never considered himself to be a nosy man, he finds his focus shifting from his lunch to the conversation you’re having, ears perked in interest as he continues to weigh his other options.

your co-worker, anna, gives you a reassuring pat on the back, her face itched downward in concern. “yeah, you were telling me about that last week . . . how much more do you need?”

“around like five-hundred more.” you sigh, brushing your hands off on your apron. anna starts to speak but you stop her with a raise of your palm, already knowing what she’s thinking. “and yes, i’ve taken out loans already. my loans have loans at this point.”

anna raises her brows. “so what are you going to do?”

“i’m out of options.” you shrug, adjusting the valves on the coffee machine to their correct settings. with a heavy sigh, you lean your head on her shoulder with a pout on your glossed lips, “it’s either i start an onlyfans or god sends me a rich old man that wants to be my sugar-daddy.”

anna giggles and playfully swats your arm. even in a serious moment like this, you find a way to lighten the mood. she plays along, tapping her chin with her index finger, “hmm, that can work! maybe you can start stripping. you watched the tiktoks i sent you, right? they touch thousands on a good night.”

“oh my god, i didn’t even think of that!” you stand straight and cup your hands on your breasts through your shirt, poking your ass out a bit. “i might need a boob job and bbl if i wanna be serious about it, though . . . plus, isn’t twenty-four a little too old to start stripping?”

“girl, please. twenty-four isn’t old and you know that. you have a nice body and you’re pretty. they’ll throw stacks just based off that, trust me —”

that whole sugar-daddy thing that satoru was suggesting doesn’t sound half as bad to nanami, right now. you get the money you need and he gets to spend time with you, it’s a win-win.

“she’s right,” nanami agrees, unable to hold back the chuckle that leaves his mouth when the both of you literally jump at the sound of his voice, whipping your bodies around to see just who that deep, smooth timbre belonged to. “you’re very pretty miss . . .” his brown eyes shift down to your name-tag. “ . . . ( name ).”

you blink once, twice — lips slightly parted, heat slowly rising to your face once his sweet compliment slowly registers in your brain and how your name flowed so easily off his tongue. just looking at this man, you can tell that he has money. he’s handsome, even more so as your eyes shift from his chiseled face down to his body. nanami stands tall, he must be around six feet. sporting a white dress-shirt and navy-blue slacks that match his tie, nanami is built. the soft cotton of his shirt clings to his biceps, outlining each vein and curve. the very top of his shirt is unbuttoned, exposing a sliver of his toned chest underneath.

there is no way god answered your prayers this quickly.

in a trance, you stare at nanami like a deer in headlights, completely enamored until anna nudges your arm, snapping you back to reality. she whispers a curt ‘you better talk to that man, girl’ in your ear and that’s you realize that you didn’t even thank him yet, how rude.

“o-oh, thank you.” you move towards the register, giving nanami a sheepish smile whilst drumming your french-tip acrylics against the granite counter. “so um . . how much of that did you hear?”

“hmm . . . most of it.”

“the onlyfans part too?”

nanami nods with a grin. “and the old rich sugar daddy part.”

you cover your face with your hand, letting out a long sigh. this is just your luck, embarrassing yourself in front of this extremely sexy stranger. “let’s just . . . pretend that didn’t happen.” you’re certain that you were definitely not getting his number after this. “what can i get you, mr . . .?”

“kento.” nanami answers, leaning a tad bit closer and you have to crane your neck slightly to look at him, that grin still on his plump lips. “but you can call me ken.”

“oh?” you catch the cheeky switch in his tone, the teasing glint in those pretty pools of brown. he’s flirting with you and why not return the same energy? you’re interested in him, too. biting back a smile of your own, you hold his gaze, staring up at him through your wispy extensions. “ok, ken, what can i get you?”

“two of those cinnamon rolls, please.” nanami answers, pointing towards the case he’d been looking at prior.

you nod and grab a set of tongs, opening the glass to place the rolls into a small plastic bag, then into a paper bag on the counter. “just that, nothing else?”

pondering on the question, nanami’s debating the risk of what he’s about to say. it’s obvious that you’re attracted to him but this was a whole different ballgame, asking you to be his sugar baby? — really, the worst that could happen is you rejecting him and as much as he doesn’t want that, he’d just have to accept it. nanami inhales a deep breath once he gathers his thoughts. here goes nothing.

“well, there is something that i have. it’s a proposition of sorts for you.”

you look up from the register, one of your brows raised. “and what would that be?”

“allow me to take you out a few times a week, whenever you have the time . . . and i’ll pay your tuition.” nanami pauses and shakes his head, combing some of his blonde locks back with his fingers. “no, i’ll pay all your bills. as long as i get to see you, i’ll give you anything that you want.”

you tilt your head to the left and raise your brows. “you want to be my sugar daddy?”

nanami nods, chuckling at the look of sheer disbelief on your face on your face. “i’m missing the old part so i’m not exactly sure if i qualify . . . but yes, i do.”

you scoff at that. “. . . and you just want to see me, take me on dates, no sex?” did he think you were that naive? if there’s one thing you know for certain, it’s that nothing in this world is free — everything has a price and in this case, your pussy would be the desired currency. you pout, crossing your arms over your chest. “i don’t believe that. what’s the catch?”

nanami supposes you aren’t wrong for thinking this way. it does sound far-fetched, especially from a stranger you met not even an hour ago. he wasn’t a liar or a perv, and he’d just have to make you see how serious he is. “there is no catch. i think you’re beautiful and i want to get to know you better. i understand that this may seem too good to be true but i promise you, my intentions are pure.”

nanami isn’t surprised when you don’t budge, eyes slanted as you glare him down. (and you look so adorable while doing it.) he expected this reaction from you and little did you know, he’s already one step ahead. if his words don’t move you, then he’s sure his actions will get the point across.

fishing for his wallet in his pocket, he pulls it out, handing you a five dollar bill, “this is for the cinnamon rolls and this,” he takes out a set of bills, hundred dollar bills and you watch him, mouth ajar as he counts off each one before placing it in your free hand. is he serious? “this is for your tuition and a little extra to spend. we’ll handle the ‘loans that have loans’ on our first date, alright?”

you’re speechless, eyes shifting between nanami’s face and the money in your hand as you try your best to process what’s happening before you. from joking about needing a sugar-daddy to having one in front of you. and the man wants to spend time with you, no sex required! you surely couldn’t doubt him now, not when he gave you the money without you actually agreeing. maybe this was the blessing from god you’d been waiting for.

you clear your throat, nodding dazedly. “a-alright, yeah . . . we can talk more on our first date.”

nanami smiles once more, glancing at his watch prior to picking up the paper bag off the counter. “as much as i want to stay with you, i have to get back to the office.” reaching into his pants pocket, he slides a laminated card on the counter. “my personal number is on this card. when you get a chance, call or send me a text. i’ll see you soon, sweetheart.”

with a playful wink, nanami leaves the cafe — your eyes trailing his lithe frame until he turns a street corner, completely out of sight. it’s like you were frozen in place, the money still in your hands. when you finally decide to take a look at the business card he left, your jaw quite literally drops to the floor: this man is the coo of jujutsu, one of the biggest marketing companies in the country.

kento nanami

chief operating officer

jujutsu marketing and e-commerce, llc.

xxx-xxx-xxxx

[email protected]

now, you were definitely certain that god did indeed hear and answer your prayers. in more ways than one.

tagging: @sttoru @screampied @thebimbopalace @tojancy

#⸻꒰ঌ 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘭’𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 ໒꒱#nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #nanami kento x reader #nanami fluff #jjk x reader fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk fluff

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harmonictechnicality · 1 year

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model!steve and voice actor!eddie

part 2 here | ao3 link here

Eddie chose a career in voice acting to avoid shit like this.

Forced socializing. Schmoozing with hotshot directors who are used to everyone kissing their ass until their lips bleed. And Eddie doesn’t do that shit.

… Okay yeah sure, Eddie kisses asses. But only in the literal, consensual kind of way. Usually after a few mediocre dinner dates, at least.

But this particular fuckhole of a director is insisting that Eddie attends the production shoot of the commercial that he’ll be narrating for. Which is weird - that’s not how this process typically goes. Eddie gets the script and records it in his studio. Easy peasy.

“I do things a little differently with my projects.” The director sneers into the phone’s speaker. Eddie silently gags at the oozing amounts of ego on this guy. “I want to immerse you into my vision.”

Ew. Eddie would rather immerse himself into a nap, but whatever. A job is a job.

“Understood.” Eddie agrees with minimal teeth-clenching. “I’ll be on set shortly.”

The phone clicks dead with nothing but a chuckle from the guy. No ‘goodbye,’ no ‘thank you.’ Rude… but that’s kind of an industry standard, so why did Eddie expect anything different?

He folds the script into his back pocket, throws on a shirt that screams ‘Los Angeles disaster gay,’ and makes his way to the studio lot.

Fucking yay.

Upon arrival, the director immediately escorts Eddie into the green room. Rambles on about needing him to meet the lead model for this commercial.

“Isn’t he just posing with the product?” Eddie lets his snarkiness run loose with that question, knows it right away.

Luckily, the guy is too busy snapping at a crew member to notice. “You’ll be voicing his character’s inner narrations.”

“Right.”

“And I want your tone to be seamless with the energy that he’s giving in this shoot. Got it?”

“Loud and clear.” Mostly loud.

The director swings open the door and reveals maybe the most cosmically beautiful person that Eddie has ever seen.

“Eddie, this is Steve.” The director says. “Steve, this is Eddie.”

Models are beautiful people, that’s the goddamn gig. Makeup, no makeup. Photoshop, no photoshop. They just look better than the general population and society accepts that as a fact.

But Eddie is a grubby little voice actor that burrows himself up in his boxy apartment for days. Very little sunlight, very little human interaction, and a shit ton of takeout.

Long story short, he doesn’t get out much. So this? Seeing a biblically hot heartthrob in the flesh? With his own two eyes? It’s knocking him into deep space. Sending him into an astral projection without sticking a tablet on his tongue first.

“Nice to meet you, man.” Steve holds out his hand while someone brushes more powder onto his shiny, glowy skin. God, that’s the best damn skin Eddie has ever seen. Powder be damned, Steve doesn’t need it’s chalky finish.

Eddie shakes himself out of this spell, takes Steve’s hand like he’s somehow worthy of touching him. “Yeah, you too.”

Lame. So lame. On a scale of one to Star Wars prequels, his response is the CGI in Attack of the Clones. ‘Yeah, you too?’ Ugh, what a dumbass.

The director tells them to get acquainted and to be on set in ten minutes. Ten minutes. Eddie has to be convincingly normal for ten whole minutes. Pfft, that’s laughable, but he’ll give it a shot.

“That guy’s a total asshat.” Steve grumbles.

Oh. Eddie could smother him in kisses for saying that. Lick Steve clean of all that stupid powder and probably die of talc poisoning. Death By Licking a Model is one hell of a way to go.

“Yeah.” Find some new words, Munson. “Major asshat. But he happens to be paying my bills this month, so technically, he’s my favorite major asshat.”

“Oh, same.” Steve laughs. It’s fucking glorious too. Eddie kind of wishes he had brought his microphone so that he could capture such a wonderful sound with high quality recording software. Is that creepy? Maybe he should dial it back.

... As if. This guy’s hair is sculpted with effortless perfection and his shoulder blades could slice through a French baguette. No way Eddie can dial it back or keep it together.

“So you’re doing the voice work on the commercial, right?” Steve asks.

‘Yup.” Eddie shoves both hands into his pockets. “Indeed I am.”

Okay, that was borderline Yoda. Get a grip.

Steve seems unfazed though. “That’s cool. Can’t wait to hear what you come up with.”

“Thanks.” Eddie smiles warmly. Nerves mellowing out. “And I can’t wait to see you in action out there.”

“Hope I can give you some good inspiration.” And Steve winks, legit winks at Eddie. Does it like it’s normal too, like he winks at everybody. He probably winks at nuns just to see if he can get them to consider conversion.

Eddie is so hopeless. Fucking tragic at this point.

They walk into the studio and are greeted by a somber, archaic set design. There’s a massive throne in the middle that is draped with fur.

It’s… tacky. That’s the nicest adjective Eddie has to describe it. Tacky bullshit.

“I thought this was for a cologne ad.” Eddie says, eyeing the snowy backdrop.

Steve nods. “It is.”

“So what’s with the secondhand Game of Thrones set?”

“Mr. Asshat thinks this is his cinematic debut.”

Eddie snorts. Loves that he already has inside jokes with this beautiful, beautiful creature. “Someone should tell Mr. Asshat that this is visual plagiarism.”

“Nah.” Steve runs his hand over the tacky fur piece. Smirks to himself as he speaks. “I say we let him suffer.”

Eddie’s legs wobble. “Damn, you’re hot.”

He sounds ridiculously uncool, so breathy and gone. But Steve shrugs in a non-pitying kind of way, so maybe Eddie's uncoolness is excused. Or expected.

While the camera and lighting crew finalize their positions, Steve takes off his robe, revealing his costume.

Torn, muddied pants. Ripped and clawed to shreds. A billowy white top that’s completely unbuttoned. Un-laced? Eddie’s not entirely sure about the mechanics - just knows that Steve’s chest is out, that’s all he can focus on.

There’s a dented crown that the stylist places next to the throne, right at Steve’s feet. It’s shimmery yet tarnished, catches the light in a kaleidoscope effect.

The product is called The Fallen King, so deductive reasoning tells Eddie that Steve is meant to be the physical embodiment of this scent. He recalls something in the script about his title being slandered by promiscuity and forbidden love. Apparently they’ve bottled up that smell into a cologne.

Do people really want to smell like a dethroned monarch? That’s a thing? Huh.

Just to make the sexual torture even more unbearable, Eddie gets to spectate alongside Mr. Asshat himself. Which also means that Eddie almost has a center view of Steve’s performance.

Cause that’s exactly what he’s giving. A performance. A full display production of his body, his face. His whole godlike essence.

It’s unfair how fucked Eddie is from watching Steve pose. He can hold the oddest positions without budging a single tendon. So still. Durable. Strong.

Every last thought in Eddie’s head is impure from that observation. He wants to wrap his fingers around Steve’s muscles until he finally moves, twitches. Eddie wants to watch as Steve’s pretty lips part, falling open with sighs. See how long it takes for those sighs to turn into moans.

Steve slumps back into the throne, legs spread obscenely far apart. His gaze droops low and dark, practically eye-fucking the camera. It’s crazy how jealous Eddie is of that stupid inanimate object. The things he would do to get eye-fucked by that golden sex god up there…

His internal porno gets interrupted by a new pose. A wicked one. Steve is on his knees now, looking up into the camera lens. He sinks into the dreamiest expression. Looks dazed, all spaced-out and helpless. Eddie kneads at the growing heat in his pants with the heel of his palm. Hopes it’s not fucking obvious that he’s so horned up right now.

The director clears his throat and yells over the camera’s constant shuttering. “Can you tilt your head back, Steve?”

And Steve does. So obedient, so exceptional at his job. His head rolls back on his neck, shoulders sagging with the shift of weight.

Eddie is chewing the inside of his cheek, nearly ready to take the horny loss and go jack off in his car. Steve is in the most ideal position now, totally vulnerable. Eddie could fuck him so good like that, let Steve melt into his touch. He’d treat him like treasure, spoil him with dick and praise. Eddie would catch him if his legs give out. Would lick Steve’s kiss-bitten lips until the swelling goes down.

God, Eddie is so sick in the head for conjuring up x-rated scenes like this. In public, surrounded by strangers. Literally on the clock. He seriously needs to get his head checked for having such a whorish imagination.

The shoot ends shortly after that last pose, the one that rocked Eddie’s world. He closes his eyes for a minute, takes a few deep breaths. Tries to inhale some goddamn decency.

“How was it?” Steve heads his way, snaking his arms back into the bathrobe.

Eddie blinks hard. “It was… you were…” And the words stop. Nothing else comes out, his throat is strangled and bare.

Steve gives a soft laugh, nudges Eddie’s arm with his elbow. “Guess you do better when there’s a script in front of you, huh?”

Oh. So he’s pretty and darkly playful? This is too good, too delicious.

Eddie wets his bottom lip, recovers quickly. “I do better when there’s not an earthbound angel in my presence.”

“Wow.” Steve raises both eyebrows. “That’s quite the compliment.”

“Oh come on - you must get compliments all the time.”

“Not like that one though.”

“No?”

Steve takes a step into Eddie’s space. “Definitely not.”

They just stare after that - mostly because it’s Eddie’s turn to speak but words are so secondary when there’s this much beauty to behold. Gazing becomes his top priority.

And before the conversation can lead to an exchange of last names or phone numbers, Steve is rushed off by his agent. Maybe his publicist. Maybe his mom, Eddie has no fucking clue. Just someone taking away his shiny new toy. He sort of feels like reenacting that scene in Cast Away when the volleyball drifts into the ocean. Be dramatic as all hell about this ending.

Eddie doesn’t actually jack off in his car, although he really wants to. No, he decides to use all of his adrenaline and pent-up hormones for the voice recording. It gives his vocals this strained, chesty sound. Sinful and corrupt. Cracking with emotion in certain spots, spiking the volume in all the right ways.

It might be too much, a little bit too suggestive for a lousy cologne advertisement.

But as he listens back, Eddie can’t help but picture Steve. Imagining snapshots of him from every angle, especially the unspeakable ones. The recording barely sounds like a script anymore. It almost sounds like Eddie whispering the lines directly into Steve’s ear. A dirty secret between them.

This is it, he thinks. Sends the audio file to his sound mixer without a second read-through, without a retake. This might be the best voiceover Eddie Munson has ever done.

#steddie #steddie fic #this is inspired by the unhinged ao3 tag generator #so there will be two more parts - fairly short like this one #not sure if I should put this on ao3... we shall see #anyways thanks for listening xx

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xcherricutie · 2 months

Text

🌺 drift away 🌺

[Lucifer Morningstar x Reader]

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four]

[Word Count - 1.4k]

[Tags: Angst, songfic (I can't help myself)]

[Notes: My first Hazbin Hotel one shot. Still new to Tumblr, and new to writing one shots, I'm used to writing longer form. Hope this post is up to the standard. It's like, 1 in the morning and I have work tomorrow morning, enjoy. I will hopefully get out a part that's kinda like a prequel, I wanna do Other Friends lol. Obvs inspired by Steven Universe.]

Let’s go in the garden,

You’ll find something waiting,

Right there where you left it,

Lying upside down...

Excitement shot through your system, your feet dragging along the ground as a giggle bubbled from within you. You paused every few seconds as the man before you looked back, a single brow raised at your antics. He took a few steps forward, the sounds of your feet tapping as you followed along filling the air. He sighed, turning around. His eyes, golden sclera and deep red irises, landed on your own, though unfocused. Almost as if looking straight through you.

He’d tried to keep you here, to stop you from following. He knew you were only doing what you were meant to do. You were made for him. An angel born purely to keep Lucifer in check, to keep him happy. You loved being by his side, you loved spending time with him on Earth, in the garden. You thought he loved it too. You thought he loved you.

Taking a deep breath, Lucifer forced a smile for you. His wings softly flapped behind him, lifting him off the ground, raising him to be just above your face level. His finger tapped your nose, his enchanting voice coming through. “Here in the garden, let’s play a game, I’ll show you how it’s done.”

“Here in the garden, stand very still,” His hands on your shoulders, you looked up at him with a beaming smile, happy to spend time with your love.

“This’ll be so much fun,” Your voice, soft and delicate spoke, earning a smile from him. Your heart fluttered at his smile, his cheeks crinkling slightly as his eyes closed, appearing relaxed. At least to you. But appearances weren’t all what they seemed.

“And then he smiled, that’s what I’m after,” You clenched a fist, pressing it to your chest, trying to calm your fast beating heart. You could feel the eyes of the demon behind you on you, the very demon that came from him. “The smile in his eyes, the sound of his laughter.”

You could see the scene replaying before you all over again. You could even hear the soft chuckle that had once escaped his lips, his hands softly squeezing your shoulders. You knew she could see it too, but you didn’t want to acknowledge the memories that had begun to rush back to you, memories from long ago. Memories you’d wished you could forget.

“Happy to listen, happy to play, happily watching him drift away...”

Lucifer’s grip loosened on your shoulders, his wings flapping as he pulled away, leaving you to your little game. You watched him fly into the bright sky, disappearing in the light of the sun with another. But you didn’t think anything of it, because he loved you. He was playing with you, spending time with you.

The girl behind you could only watch in silence, her throat squeezing closed as she tried to keep her inner turmoil to herself. She knew exactly where she was, exactly where you had taken her. The wilted bushes, the out-of-control bramble, the spiraling roots through the grass. This was the long-abandoned Garden of Eden. This was where it all began. Where Charlie’s father, Lucifer, had started humanity’s spiral into chaos, starting with you.

“Happily waiting, all on my own, under the endless sky...” You glanced up to the stars dotting the night sky. Everything seemed to be happening so fast. You never wanted anyone to see this, you never even wanted to see it again yourself. Yet, here you were, sharing your vulnerability with the person you’d come down to Hell to kill. The princess of Hell herself, and Lucifer’s daughter, Charlie. You had let her in, showing her your memories. “Counting the seconds, standing alone, as thousands of years go by...”

The roots had begun to cling to your still form, your body aching, your wings begging to be spread once more. Your hair, once something you had been proud of, now in shambles, grown out nearly to your feet. Deep bags had sunk into the skin under your eyes, a telling sign of your exhaustion. For how much longer must this game go on, you wondered, but never dared voice it. You were meant to make him happy, right?

“Happily wondering, night after night, is this how it works? Am I doing it right?” Your fists clenched, unable to bear looking at your old self any longer, watching as your sickened form disappeared, turning into speckles of gold in the wind. You stepped forward into the place where you had once showed Charlie your older memories, resuming the familiar stance you had been in for over ten thousand years. “Happy to listen, happy to stay, happily watching him drift away...”

A cool breeze blew through your hair, reminding you of the countless nights you took solace in the feeling, the only thing that reminded you that you were still alive, still conscious. Your eyes met Charlie’s, a faint smile on her face as you spotted the tears welling in her eyes. You turned away with the breeze, taking a step in the opposite direction of Charlie, startling her as she was quick to follow.

“You keep on turning pages, for people who don’t care, people who don’t care about you,”

You walked along the edge of a pond, legs brushing against the soft petals of the flowers surrounding the pond. The breeze pulled along the flowers, a long dead water lily being ripped from the ground. Grasping the weakened petals of the flower in your hand, you turned to Charlie with a soft smile, placing the flower in her blonde hair that felt just the same as his. Just as you pulled your hand away, turning your attention to the water, the flower crumpled in her hair, falling apart.

“And still, it takes you ages, to see that no one’s there, see that no one’s there, see that no one’s there, everyone’s gone on without you...” Your eyes drifted back to the spot you had become a part of for so long. The spot you thought would one day claim you and set you free from the pain that he’d left behind in you. Charlie’s eyes followed, her eyes widening to see more of your memories, more of what her father had caused.

“Finally, something.”

The two seraphims, Sera and Emily, stood before you, fear and sorrow written across their faces. Emily ripped roots that had grown to hold you down tightly off, while Sera ran her fingers through your broken hair, tears streaming down her face.

“Finally, news, about how the story ends.”

Sera rambled on and on about everything you had missed. About how humanity had progressed. About the angels that had replaced you in society. Everybody thought you were dead, at the hands of the Devil. You didn’t understand any of it, not until she explained just what had happened, why you were even standing here, playing this game.

“He isn’t an angel anymore, fallen long ago, leaving you for Lilith, and his brand-new daughter...”

“Isn’t that lovely?”

Tears streamed down Charlie’s face as she watched your younger self burst into tears, sobbing violently into Sera’s chest as she hugged you tightly, muttering useless apologies over and over. You cried and screamed, telling her to stop lying and to bring you to Lucifer, to end this game already. You begged and pleaded, telling her that it wasn’t like that, that he loved you, he asked you to stay and play with him. He couldn’t abandon you. You were his angel, his love.

“Isn’t that cool?”

You ignored the pain that squeezed your heart, watching as your memories faded in those familiar golden glimmers, begging that this would be the final time you’d have to see them. You ignored the hot tears that dripped down your cheeks, your emotions leaking through, escaping the tight hold you’d kept them in for so many years.

“And isn’t that cruel? And aren’t I a fool to have happily listened, happy to stay, happily watching him drift, drift...”

You squeezed a fist to your chest, your heart slowing down finally as you sighed deeply. This was the end. This garden, where everything had begun, would finally see the end of the story. Where you would finally let go of the memories that haunted you for ten thousand years, and move on with your life, putting an end to his little game.

“Drift away...”

#hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #lucifer morningstar #hazbin lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader

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mrsnancywheeler · 5 months

Text

the lakes (1) // finnick odair x f. reader

summary: it's supposed to be over, you and Finnick are supposed to spend the rest of your lives helping each other heal. living as peacefully as possible, but the the third quarter quell throws a wrench in your domestic bliss.

next chapter

prequel

warnings: ANGST, allusions to death/mental problems as a result of the games/trafficking, arguments, finnick had a savior complex, but reader also low-key has one, unedited, maybe ooc!finnick it's how I interpret him but maybe you don't, mentions of past breakups, may be more I didn't catch, no use of y/n, terms of endearment like my love, angel, sweet boy

1.6k words

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Snuggled up to his side on the couch is where you felt safest, even with the pit in your stomach as you waited for whatever cruel twist Snow would announce for the Third Quarter Quell. You could tell Finnick had been anxious too, even if he would never want to verbalize it. He'd spent the day finding an activity to keep his mind busy at every second, little home renovations he'd never spoken of before, catching more fish then you could possibly eat, bossing you around as he did each thing all of which was so him, but there wasn't a moment of peace. He didn't stop to just hold you or stare out at the waters, there was no time when he knew that this year being a mentor would be much more difficult.

You knew that too, you'd been doing it for less time then he had, but it was eating you up inside. Even though the day was nearly barren of sweet nothings or the usual honey of his voice, him holding you as you stared at the screen made all the difference. But then your world stopped.

“As a reminder that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, on this Third Quarter Quell Games, the male and female tributes are to be reaped from the existing pool of victors in each District.” Snow’s voice was exactly that, cold and icy. You felt nauseous and dizzy the moment the words left his cocky, freezing lips. Then the warmth from Finnick was gone, leaving you just as frozen.

“Finnick-" You began almost robotically as he stood, exiting the room. He said something incoherently and you knew better than to follow him. Both of you dealt with things differently. It was a thought true and tested that he would pull away to handle and you would cling closer. You hoped that being with him for so long would remind him of the happy medium.

Feeling consumed by sadness, anger, and a tinge of selfishness for even wanting Finnick’s comfort when he had so much to process you rose from your position on the couch as you mechanically walked towards the bedroom. Hearing the front door slam shut you knew Finnick was long gone, off to seek the refuge of the oceans currents. The warmth of a singular tear straying from your eyelids brought a stark contrast to how you felt.

They say everyone deals with grief differently, so maybe that explained why you’d just continued with your might as normal. Nearly burning your skin off with the warmth of the shower, stiffly moving through your nightly skincare routine, doing the dishes Finnick usually insisted upon working on, and finally when you'd sat down at your vanity for the final steps of your bedtime routine Finnick had reappeared.

“You can't go back." Was all he said and you stared at him somberly in the mirror.

“That's not your decision to make." It wasn't angry or malicious, it was just a sad truth. There was no control over any of it and quietly you cursed Katniss Everdeen, the Girl on Fire for ever daring to defy the Capitol's rules. Even if you knew it wasn't her fault that Snow was harsh and cruel, maybe if she'd played safely like everyone else had you and Finnick could be still curled up on the couch chatting mindlessly.

“It can be, I can ask people to volunteer, you need to be safe.” He was like a flighty bird as he knelt down besides where you sat. You could tell he'd been crying by the bloodshot look of his eyes.

"My life isn't more valuable then anyone else's Finnick. That's not fair and you know it.”

"I don't care."

“Mags is too old, she deserves to be in peace when she goes, Annie wouldn't be able to handle that, and Ondine would say no and I wouldn't blame her.”

"You can't volunteer. You have to promise me that, I need you to promise me that.” His eyes were so desperate, so pleading and his hands clung to your knees. You felt your eyes brimming with tears as you shook your head.

"You know I can't do that.” It was true you wouldn't put poor, unstable Annie through that, Mags wouldn't survive, and Ondine probably could, but you'd be eaten by guilt if you let her. You doubted that you could be the victor once again, but it would be better than making any of them face it.

Finnick hit the top of your table as he stood, “Goddammit, don't be stubborn about this, angel. I need you to stay here, you can't go back!" He was trying to hold back his own storm of tears which he was gulping down.

“Finnick, could you promise me the same thing? Could you swear to me that you wouldn't volunteer either?" He was silent and simply stared back at you. So you nodded and rose to your feet as well.

“That's different and you know it! There's been whispers amongst different Victors about rebellion and with this happening there has to be more imminent plans. I can be on top of them, angel, I can help end this." Your sweet, sweet boy who so vehemently needed to rid the world of the system that had hurt him so badly and so many others like him before it could do more damage.

“If you do that, if any of that happens. I need to be with you, Finnick. We can do that together, you don't get to just cut me out because you want to protect me. We're a team!” You made sure to keep your voice even, although all the built up emotions made you want to yell it all, to cry it out, and scream so gutturally that everyone would know what was happening.

"That's not fair." He repeated back at you, blinking away his oncoming tears. “I need you to be safe, to know you're gonna be okay. If I'm thinking about the future of the Rebellion then I can't be worrying about keeping you alive too.” His voice was harsher and louder, then suddenly you couldn't stop yourself from raising your voice to the same tone as his.

"I've won these before, Finnick, I'm not helpless! You have left me stranded before and I have dealt with it, and I won. I'm not some damsel you need to save.” The rational side of you knew that you were being unreasonable, but so was he. You did need him, you needed him so desperately that thinking of him is what had kept you fighting the first time around. You loved the fact that he didn't make you pretend to be all the things you were spouting out, you didn't have to act strong when you weren't feeling it and he would take care of you. But now, when it would be life or death, you didn't need that used against you.

"That's not what I meant and you know it. I know you can take care of yourself, but that won't stop the fear of you getting hurt from eating me up inside.” Suddenly his forehead was pressed to you're, it was so intimate and so soothing it was already balancing you out. You forced your voice back to the soft tone it had once held.

"Finnick if I'm here and the Rebellion you're planning happens, they'll come for me. Snow will make sure that I'm not safe, he could have me killed for being with Finnick the rebel. I would be safer with you then in the palms of the Capitol.” His hands caressed your face with heat that relaxed your tense muscles simply on impact.

“I just want to come home to you." His muscular arms were wrapped around you as he whispered his confession and let himself fully break down with you. Sobbing down your back and suddenly you didn't feel your own tears. All of you just wanted to help him, to absorb with warmth and give it back to his tortured soul. Your sweet boy.

“I know." You said it so lightly it could have been lost in the breeze, but Finnick was tucked into you so tightly that he heard. “Can we just go to bed, please? I just want to be with you."

Finnick reluctantly pulled himself away from you only because he knew he could envelop you in the further safety of your blankets. “Of course, my love." He muttered as he pressed his salty lips to your forehead. The dilemma would be left here for now, but he would convince you. His brain and heart were still scrambling for any loophole to keep you out of the arena, as distanced from the rebel plans as possible, and as protected as need be from any and all who could pose harm.

Even if you were strong, charming, and smart, the Capitol's Princess. He knew you were all he needed, you accepted him and his flaws so fully, so blatantly shared each crevice of your soul with him that none of that mattered because it was the domestic bliss that you were really built for, that you deserved. The life with the house on the beach, where kids could run around and you would garden that he would fight to give you, but couldn't allow any chance that could prevent you from getting there.

But it broke you knowing that he wanted to protect you so bad he didn't open up, that there was a lack of trust in what he said simply in omission. You wanted to protect him just as badly in a way he couldn't understand, you wanted to be consumed by his every moment. To be two halves of one whole in any way you could and you feared your own instability would show if he was gone. You'd hidden it so well when he was there to calm you, but as you held each other so tightly both of your thoughts were silly consumed with the threats of what was to come.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

more of this series to come because I have a lot of thoughts even though this part was shorter. thank you for reading and so many of you for the support! if you enjoyed them let me know by liking, reblogging, commenting, or any type of feedback. feel free to fill my asks with thoughts lmao because it's consuming my thoughts. love you guys 💋

taglist: @imaegonstargaryenswife0 @avoxrising @artsyaquarium @jennaaaaaaaaaaaa @secretsicanthideanymore

#finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x y/n #thg #finnick odair angst #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair x reader angst #finnick odair x reader fluff #wanda 💋#finnick imagine #thg finnick #finnick odair fanfic #finnick x reader #finnick x you #finnick odair x you #thg fic #thg x y/n #thg x reader #thg fanfiction

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jueyvns · 3 months

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synopsis. just when did he fall in love with you?

pairing. royal guard!satoru x princess!reader

contents. fluff, same universe and a prequel(?) to this

satoru couldn't remember how exactly he fell in love with you. it all came very naturally. he remembers how you took his hand and brought him in front of your father, the king himself and practically begged him to make him a royal guard.

what did you see in him? poor boy, always left alone in the streets with no one and nowhere to go home to. stealing every now and then just to make sure he has food to stay alive. but on that day, you were like the light to him. his angel.

he started to train like every other guard in the palace. he was very young compared to the other guards in training. training in the palace was tough and most of the other guards in training seemed to dislike him but it was better than sleeping in the cold weather and stealing just to survive. and besides, there was you.

you would visit the training space every now and then. the guards would expect the same question coming out of your mouth. "where is he?" of course, they always knew who you meant. you'd come to visit him and tell him about your day. he always listened to every single one of them.

one night, satoru couldn't sleep which led him back to the training grounds. panting from exhaustion, he sat down on the ground, his arm settled behind him. how many hours has it been? three? four? he wasn't counting anymore. right now, he could only hear the sound of crickets and smell the night air from the trees. it was peaceful.

he heard something else though. like footsteps? it came closer and closer. holding his blade, he stood on guard. surely there wouldn't be a threat in the palace grounds, right? he almost jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"hey, you!"

he turned around, his breath hitched. it was you. by this time, both of you were sixteen years old. your hair was longer and your features had matured a little. that didn't matter to him though, you're always stunning to him. but why were you here again? it was midnight and he knew well that it was past your curfew.

"your highness," he half whispered. not wanting to make too much noise. your hand was still on his shoulder. "it's midnight. i don't think you should be here— i mean, not that i want you to leave but what if you get in trouble?" he wanted to jump off a cliff with how bad he stammered with his words.

you slightly pouted, "i thought i told you to stop calling me that." your hands moved from his shoulder to gently hold one of his hand. "just (name) is fine. and to answer your question, who cares if i get in trouble?"

he hoped you didn't notice how his cheeks have reddened. he met your gaze, "i care. also i can't just call you by your name.. that's improper."

"no, it's not! try saying it," you smiled up at him.

"i ca—"

"it's an order," you plastered a smug grin. he looked at you in disbelief. he let out a breath before quietly saying, "(name)."

"couldn't hear youu, what was that?"

"i said (name).." he said a little louder, feeling embarrassed. you smiled in amusement. well it was worth it, he guessed. he was able to make you smile like that.

"see that wasn't so hard, was it? now i got someth—"

"now say mine."

"—what?" you suddenly stopped talking upon hearing him. you tilted your head. his eyes didn't leave yours at all. his hand still holding your hand, firmly. "say my name," he said, much more confident now.

his heart felt full seeing you flustered under the moonlight. for once, you were nervous now. it was unlike you.

"gojo? i call you that often, don't i?"

"no, not that," he shook his head. he was still looking at you, eyes full of adoration. "my name," he brought your knuckles in front of his lips but not close enough to kiss it.

"please?"

you wanted to run away and lock yourself in your room. how couldn't you give in when he was so pretty and was doing whatever this is?

you took a deep breath, tearing your gaze away from him. hoping it'll make you less anxious. "satoru." he let out a chuckle.

he liked that, he loved that actually. the sound of his name rolling of your tongue. it felt right. he kissed your knuckles. "see, was that so hard?" he teased you back, your other hand covered your face. satoru held your wrist so you'd stop hiding your pretty face.

"oh, so now you're shy?"

"shut up."

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen

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thecapricunt1616 · 21 days

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Patchouli - (C.B. oneshot)

♡ Summary: carm is a munch. What else do you need to know?

♡ W/C: 1300

♡ Posted Date: 4/20/24 (blaze it)

♡ A/N: pure porn lol (prequel to Peonies)

♡ Warnings for BTC: smut. Pussy eating ass smut. this is fully unedited because I’m a lazy sack of shit we die like men.

➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡

➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡

Carmy was nothing short of addicted to the taste of your pussy.

Like - he nearly found it embarrassing for Christ’s sake. He would get hard thinking about it, Jesus, his fucking mouth watered.

He’d tried the best food in the whole world- the most talented chefs would nearly beg for him to taste their art - but nothing was more decadent than your homemade liquor on his tongue.

He worked extra late on Friday evenings, since it was the busiest night at the restaurant. Date nights, birthday celebrations, any celebration- really that was big enough to warrant going to one of the only Michelin star restaurants in Chicago usually happened Fridays.

Carmen would stumble in - long after you’d fallen asleep, albeit cursing himself for not being home earlier before you’d fallen asleep to your true crime shows, so you’d kneel at his feet as you usually did, and untie his sneakers for him, before gently coaxing him out of the shoes like the earth-ridden angel you were since his back was fucking aching after his near 16 hour day.

He would silently slink into the bathroom, take a quick shower - just enough to scrub off the dirt, sweat, and kitchen smell from the day. Before he’d carefully pad to bed and do whatever he could to assure you felt oh so good to start off your solo-weekend together.

Carmy would come into the bedroom, damp, dripping curls from his shower, and ever so gently crawl between your sleeping supple, thick thighs. He felt welcome. As if you were asking him- no. Begging him- to devour your sweet silky luscious heat as soon as he’d got through the door.

This was coming home, at least to him- his true home was between your thighs, sucking and lapping at your folds until the both of you were sore. When you’d whine about it in the morning, he’d kindly make up for it and place the gentlest, most filthy kisses to your mound and nether lips, whispering sweet sorrys to your cunt and ‘promising to be gentler with her next time’ - he never was.

He hummed gently, dragging his heavy, knife calloused fingers over your clit. Your hips inadvertently jerked into his hand, it was only natural.

There would be times he would just simply lay there after an orgasm of yours, in a filthy, horny trance, thrusting his expert fingers oh so carefully into your seeping (embarrassingly wet) and over sensitive hole - slow and light due to the muscle being so so overused, almost achingly so - before taking them out and spreading the digits to see how sticky and messy you were.

“mmm someone was playin’ with herself before I got home?” He said, just barely a whisper.

He pressed his lips to yours, before gently taking the right one into his mouth and sucking the overly sensitive flesh between his lips. His tattooed hands gently rub over your thighs, squeezing the skin, hard enough to leave bruises, and his eyes fluttering shut, every stress of the day melting away. It was as if the man had an oral fucking fixation with your clit, with your folds. The way he’d suck and flick and kiss them - it was like he was playing a goddamn game.

He eagerly spread your lips with his ring and middle finger admiring how wet you were. “Absolutely - how dirty mmm? My filthy little girl” he he whispered, tonguing the wetness over your weeping hole and holding back a moan at your sweet, musky flavor.

Carmy relished in the way your core clenched around nothing, and the sweetest most gentle whimper fell from your lips. “Shhhh” he cooed, placing a kiss to your clit that made your thigh twitch

“I’m takin care’f ya’ - don’worry” he said softly, licking a hot wet stripe from the curve of your ass to the very top of your slit, flicking his tongue over your clit in the way that made you shiver.

Even in your sleep, you widened your legs for him to give better access to the delicious sensation that was lapping up the moisture that was starting to drip and tickle. It wasn’t long until you were roused, a small sleepy smirk coming to your lips.

“Mmmm thanks Bear” you muttered, lazily finding his curls and gently pushing them off his forehead. He reached his hand up to your stomach, palm up to you, lightly wiggling his fingers on your flesh. Allthough you refused to open your eyes, you felt the action and knew what he wanted.

You found his hand easily, lacing your fingers together and pulling his hand to your lips, kissing each knuckle as he kissed and sucked your folds. As he nudged your clit with his nose you gasped lightly, looking down at him in the dim light.

“Yes- like that baby- feels good, work ok lovey?” You gently tug his curls and he looked up at you, lustblown eyes and a wet nose he looked like a puppy this way.

“Mm. Ok. Marcus f’got a huge cake order. Kinda’a mess” he muttered before sticking out his tongue, slack jawed and adorable, slobbering over your pussy like a man starved.

You nearly giggled at the action but couldn’t as a moan passed your lips you couldn’t hold in if you tried. “Such a good puppy” you moaned quietly “so good t’me Carmy, I fuckin love you” you gasped, thighs nearly smushing his cheeks as he nipped at the sensitive flesh

“That’s new” he hummed, kissing your clit as he reached down with his other hand and slipped 2 fingers easily in your dripping entrance. Your back arched off the bed, electricity shooting through your thighs and abdomen, core clenching around his fingers, nearly sucking him in.

“Cus’y so good bear. Such a good boy” you praised, gasping as he starts flicking his tongue over your clit “shhh-ahh! Mmm! Thas’it. Thaaaatsit” you slurred, the coil in your stomach heating up and threatening to snap- and soon.

He moans into your clit, the vibration causing your hips to jerk and he leans his strong forearm around your luscious hips. “Still” he mumbled the order, thrusting his tongue into your hole.

“Jesus fuck! Don’t fuckin st- ohhhh” you let out nothing short out of a pornographic film like wanton desperate filthy moan

“Cmon, cum f’me pretty girl” he urged gently, replacing his tongue with his fingers and nuzzling your clit with his nose like a man starved as he sucked and nibbled your folds.

You whined, squeezing the hand you were still holding tightly. “N-now-nnnmmmmhhh” your orgasm washed over you like a tsunami, the aftershock being the strongest part. His lightest touch was causing you to jerk and twitch under him at the overstimulation.

“Shhhh angel. Relax. Relax” he coaxed, rubbing over your stomach with a light touch. “Such a sweet girl. My sweet girl” he caressed your thighs with a sweet touch for a few minutes, pressing gentle kisses to your skin before getting up.

You’d inevitably whine and beg him to come back, your core feeling cold and neglected without his presence. “Time f’sleep gorgeous.” He’d gently pet your hair, pulling you into his chest.

“I want French toast for breakfast.” You muttered softly, nuzzling into his chest, smiling to yourself at his tickly chest fuzz.

“Ye?’ We got bacon too, went shoppin’ fore I came home” he muttered into the skin of your neck tiredly.

Now that he’d fulfilled his daylong craving- he was exhausted and ready to sleep as soon as he could.

“The best boyfriend. Can I wake you up t’morrow with my mouth?” You asked, gently rubbing your hand over his half hard bulge.

“Please. Y’never gotta ask princess”

Fin

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buckyalpine · 1 year

Text

Craving

18+

Mob!Steve x f reader x Bodyguard!Bucky

Remember this filth - Just a Taste?

This is sort of a prequel but you can read this as a standalone as well. IDK why I felt the need to do this, y’all asked for a part 2 and instead I went a step back.

Warnings: SMUT F masturbation, fucking, dom freaky steve, breeding kink degrading, dirty talking, so much of it

More here:

Satisfied

Steve quietly padded up the stairs, stopping as soon as he reached the top, soft needy whimpers carrying down the hall. He smiled to himself, picturing his perfect angel spread out on their bed with her hands between her legs thinking about hi-

“Oh Bucky!”

Steve froze before opening the door, not making a sound, unsure if he heard correctly.

“Please-please J-James!”

Oh.

His cock twitched as he quietly went inside, pink lips curling into a smirk seeing you splayed out on top of the sheets, your head thrown back, chest heaving. You bit down on your finger to keep your voice down but it clearly did nothing. The tightness in Steve’s pants became unbearable, the sweet scent of your arousal filling the room. Your eyes shot open at the sound of his pants unzipping, your husband standing at the foot of your bed, his cock standing tall and proud, precum already beading at the tip. You pulled your hand away, squeaking, unable to meet Steve’s eyes, hearing a low growl emitting from his chest.

“How pretty, why’d you stop princess” He smirked, cocking his head to the side while your body felt like it was lit on fire, squeezing your thighs together, “Don’t stop just because I’m here baby, you sounded like you were close”

You whimpered while he crawled onto the bed, his heavy cock bobbing between his legs, his warm breath fanning against your face. He sat back on his heels, grabbing your knees and shoving them apart, groaning at the way your pussy glistened, the white creamy mess a clear indication of how long you had been playing with yourself.

“Did you get curious baby, was that it? Your little imagination running wild when daddy isn’t around?” He kept your legs apart, biting his lips while you nodded, something about getting caught making your more wet than before. “So tell me my love, tell me exactly what you were thinking of”

You were still in shock over the fact that your husband had walked in on you thinking about your bodyguard, a fantasy you tried to desperately keep a secret. Though Steve enjoyed your shy squirming, his cock ached, needing to know every single dirty thought you dreamed of.

“I said tell me, princess” His eyes bore into you while you continued to remain silent, struggling to form a coherent thought.

“I-I-um-DADDY” You squealed as Steve's palm met your throbbing cunt, slapping your pulsating clit, shaking his head.

“I said tell me sweets, I wanna know exactly what you dream about when you’re not thinking about your husband”

“About his cock” You whispered while Steve hummed, dragging his fingers through your folds, smearing around your slick.

“What about his cock princess, how do you think it’d look my pretty baby, describe what you imagine” He purposely avoided where you needed him most, drawling circles around your clit without actually touching it and teasing your entrance without pushing his fingers in.

“B-Big, thick” You swallowed thickly, peeking up at him through your lashes, trailing your gaze down to his nearly purple tip. You let out a whine when he teased you again, your hips raising up the chase more of his touch. “Pretty cock”

You just knew he’d have a perfect cock, a pink tip you’d suckle on, long and thick you’d gag and cry trying to fit all of him in your mouth. His balls would hang heavy, swinging and hitting your chin, tapping your clit, full of cum if he ever got a chance to shove it in-

“Aww, you’re so needy angel, you think his cock is pretty baby? Nice big fat pretty cock?”

“So pretty daddy” You threw your head back, moaning as Steve swiped across your clit, rubbing you before pulling his hand away again.

“You think he’d be bigger than me baby?” There was a growl in his voice, precum dribbling down his shaft, licking his fingers clean, throbbing at your taste.

“Not bigger than daddy” You shook your head, letting out a needy whimper as your husband started to toy with your clit again, his other hand coming down to stroke himself.

“Hmm, you love daddy’s huge cock, don’t you princess. You think my best friend has a thick fat cock? You wanna suck on his heavy balls sweets? Help him empty them, make his dick feel so good”

You couldn’t take it anymore, your hand flying to rub away at the ache that was screaming between your legs. Steve grinned, watching you lose yourself, furiously rubbing your bud at the thought of fucking Bucky. He gripped the base of his cock, tugging at his balls while your moans got louder, bringing yourself higher and higher.

“I wanna suck him, daddy!”

“Look at you, rubbing your little button, playing with yourself when daddy isn’t around, you lil button needed attention from my bestfriend? Is that it baby? You wanna suck my bestfriends cock? You wanna open that slutty little mouth and take him down your throat? Hear how he moans when he gets a taste of that silky tongue?”

“How are you gonna suck him princess, show me” Steve threw his clothes off before he sat against the headboard, beckoning for you to position yourself between his legs.

“Like this” You whispered as you laid in front of Steve to take his cock in your mouth, your ass in the air. You gagged and choked, letting his tip his the back of your throat, tears brimming your lash line. You moaned at the taste of his precum, rolling his balls in your hand while swirling your tongue around the head, making a mess all over his crotch.

“God, you filthy nasty slut, that’s it, show me how you’d suck his cock baby, show me how you’d make him feel good” Steve threw his head back, bringing his hand to push your head down, thrusting his hips up into your mouth. Your throat constricted, making him nearly whine, his full balls desperate to fill your mouth. “Fuck this, come here-”

He shoved you off, manhandling you till you were face down, ass up, his hand pressed on your back to keep you down. His cock prodded your entrance, letting out a dark chuckle when you wiggled your hips, begging for him to fuck you.

“Need it daddy, please!”

“You need me or need him baby, hm?”

“Both”

That did it. Steve shoved his cock into you without warning, setting in a brutal pace while you screamed with pleasure, his hips snapping against your ass. Your hands scrambled to hold onto something to keep from slipping from how hard your husband was fucking you, his moans and grunts making your cunt throb.

“Yeah baby? You gonna take his cock? You gonna make him cum? Get him fuckin’ whipped and needy for this perfect tight little cunt? S’what you did to daddy sweets, you got daddy so fucked up with your perfect pussy” Steve slammed into you, gripping your hair and pulling you back, holding you against his chest, panting against your ear. “I’ll give you what you want baby, let him have a taste, taste this fuckin’ heaven I get to have everyday”

“Daddy!! Daddy gonna-gonna cu-

“Do it, fucking do it now, cum thinking about his cock while I fuck you, cum with my fucking cock in your pussy baby, c’mon, give it to me, give it to us you little fuckin slut, cream all over daddy”

Steve started to play with your clit causing your orgasm to barrel towards you. You screamed, molten white pleasure consuming you, gripping Steve’s cock, desperate to milk him for every drop hes worth.

“Gonna make daddy cum baby, can’t believe you got me horny thinking about you taking another mans cock, fuck have you done to me baby?”

“My little slut is such a cock hungry whore, shoud’ve-fuck, I can’t hold it-should’ve known, huh? Such an innocent baby would be such a low key freaky whore. Can’t even control herself, masturbating and rubbing herself like a bitch in head in her husbands bed thinking about another man”

His pace grew sloppy, the bed shaking with how hard he was fucking you, unable to hold off much longer. You whined, your arms clinging onto him while he pounded into you like a fuckdoll.

“He’s gonna want more after he gets a taste, y’know that? Fuck you like that huh, can feel you milking my cock baby, you want him that bad? You want me to watch baby? I wanna see your pretty face when he ruins you, wanna see his cock slip in and out of this pussy. I’ll give you everything you want princess, daddy’s gonna give you everything you want, m’gonna cum in your pussy baby, fill it up nice and you’re gonna take it, God-I can’t-fuck-fuck-m’gonna cummm- FUUCKK” Steve wrapped his arms tightly around you, moaning loudly into the crook of your neck, his cum spilling out of you, down his balls and onto the sheets.

You moaned with him, limp in his arms while he rolled and grinded his hips deep into your cunt, making sure he filled you up all the way, his balls throbbing each time you clenched around him. He hissed as he pulled out, helping you to lie down on the silky sheets, grabbing a soft cloth to clean you up. He joined you in bed, wrapping an arm around you, bringing you to his chest, smirking at how ethereal and angelic you always looked after you got your brains fucked out.

“Just wait till he gets a taste” Steve murmured, pressing his lips to your forehead while you fell asleep. He was going to have so much fun.

After all, he’d heard his bestfriend moan for his wife when he thought he was alone.

Tags: @glxwingrxse @hungryyeyess @sebsgirl71479 @beabutterfly987 @teambarnes72 @witchywhore @jamesbuckybarneswify @slutforsexyseabass @chrisdrysdale @littlemarvelmenfan @buggy147 @whimsyplaty92 @sergntbarnes @inkedaztec @pono-pura-vida @moonlightreader649 @brooklynscherry-z @elle14-blog1 @justsebstan @littlelightnings @psychomanniac-blog @happyt0exist @emmabarnes @bethyruth @matchat3a @cjand10 @getwellsoontana @cherryschaos @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @ashenc-blog @buckybarnessimpp @potatothots @goldylions @high-functioning-lokipath @morganemorganite-blog @kingfleury @peaches1958 @spiderman-stilinski @peaceinourtime82 @gublur @wintersmelodie @geeky-politics-46 @lolawassad @almosttoopizza @a-poor-gryffindork @alternativeprincess @buckycallsmeaslut @kamaria-sweet-writes @charmedbysarge @xnorthstar3x @kryoee7 @alina02 @gh0stgurl @polishprincess999 @jessybarnes @alltheficsiwant @chemtrails-club @eralen @perdidosbucky-yyo @clqrosmgc

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laracrofted · 4 months

Text

i want your midnights

synopsis: on the coldest new year's eve in a decade, bob floyd shows up at your door. prequel to delicate.

pairing: bob floyd x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ minors and ageless blogs dni, bob is really soft and cozy and lovestruck, swearing (barely), so much yearning and pining, kissing kissing kissing (wc: 2.2K)

note: surprise! i wasn't planning to write something for new year's, but i missed lovestruck bob. happy new year, loves! 🍾

summoning a few people who might be interested: @sometimesanalice @roosterbruiser @theharddeck @callsignspark @lewmagoo @gretagerwigsmuse @roosterforme @rhettabbotts

He shouldn't be here right now. For several reasons.

Technically, Bob should be on a plane right now – or on one of several planes because San Diego International doesn't offer any direct flights to the part of Montana Bob is from

He usually flies from San Diego to Los Angeles and Los Angeles to Bozeman and drives from there.

Except when half of California freezes over in the coldest storm in a decade on the very day Bob is supposed to head home for New Year's and grounds all of LAX.

This normally wouldn't be a big deal. He doesn't even care all that much about New Year's – New Year's is celebrated very casually in his family. He's usually in bed well before midnight. – but Bob already missed Christmas.

He and Phoenix were selected for a special detachment at the end of December, which – while an honor and a privilege, etcetera – meant Bob spent Christmas on an aircraft carrier in the middle of the Pacific. He didn't get back until December 28.

Phoenix immediately drove up to San Francisco to be with her nieces and nephews. He'd been waiting for New Year's.

Now, after countless delays and an eventual cancellation – which should've happened hours ago when Bob maybe could've found another way home, rented a car and driven the seventeen hours – Bob is stuck in San Diego.

Disappointed isn't a good enough word to express what Bob is feeling right now.

He could've driven back to his apartment – his sad apartment, already devoid of colorful lights and silver and gold decorations because Bob didn't expect to come back until January. He could've called Fanboy or gone to the New Year's Eve party at the Hard Deck, but Bob isn't in the mood to be around people right now.

He only wants to see one person.

And now Bob is here – standing outside of your apartment with a backpack and a carry-on, like Bob is about to clear out a drawer and move right in.

He probably looks like a weirdo. He definitely feels like a weirdo.

Damn. This was a mistake.

It's a brisk 40 degrees and dropping outside, and Coronado smells like ocean air and fireplace smoke. Pine needles, shed from the withering evergreens hauled onto the streets and abandoned the day after Christmas. Seawater and camphor and burning wood.

He shivers in the cold, broad shoulders rounding under the worn wool of his sweater. He should've worn something warmer – something nicer – but all of Bob's warmer coats are either deep in his suitcase or at his parents' house. He never expected to need them in San Diego.

A shaky puff of breath blows from his quivering lips.

He breathes in a deep and steadying breath. A bracing breath. And knocks on the door.

Minutes pass. Or maybe, just seconds.

Finally, Bob hears a voice from inside. Blessedly.

"Just a minute!"

Your calm voice is like a soothing balm, even muffled, even barely audible, and Bob feels like a loosed bowstring – held taut for hours on end and at the sound of your voice, finally let free. He can drop his shoulders and loosen his clenched jaw for the first time in the past day – in the past week.

Tension melts off of him like the last snow of late spring from the Montana pines. He can finally relax. He can breathe again.

A crack of light spills out of the creaking door, and Bob pulls his gaze from his scuffed brown Blundstones.

You are silhouetted in the doorway like a priceless Renaissance sculpture, glowing, curves highlighted and illuminated in the most beautiful dress Bob has ever seen.

Black satin, catching in the dim light and glimmering, like a blanket of stars on a cloudless December night.

He used to lay under stars like those in Montana and memorize the constellations. He feels the same sense of wonder, of awe looking at you.

He's always found you beautiful – even dressed in your coveralls with grease smudged on your cheeks, sometimes especially then – but now, fuck.

He's never seen your hair like that before, loose around your shoulders, curled like the ends of a ribbon on a beautifully wrapped present on Christmas morning. He shoves his hands in his pockets, slightly chapped and reddened from the dry cold, and pinches the denim between his palms, squashing the urge to reach out and wrap one of the delicate strands of hair around his finger.

A deep shade of red paints your lips, parting in a surprised smile. "Bob Floyd, is that you?" You shiver and hug your arms, and Bob, respectfully, keeps his eyes on your face. "Jesus Christ, when did it get so cold out here? Aren't you cold?"

"I, uh... run warm, I guess," Bob says. He lifts his baseball cap and runs his fingers through the mess of strands underneath, in desperate need of a trim. Sets it back on his head and squares his shoulders. "Are you headed out?"

You look down and absentmindedly shuffle your feet to look down at your heels – which reveals a slit in the fabric, exposing a line of bare skin all the way up to your thigh. God help him.

"Kind of. I'm supposed to meet up with some of the other mechanics at the Hard Deck. There’s some New Year’s thing there, I guess.” You fold your arms across your chest and look at him, still smiling curiously. “But what about you? What brings you here on New Year's Eve?"

He showed up out of the blue. Anyone else might be annoyed, but all Bob hears in your voice is gentle curiosity. Like Bob is the most pleasant of surprises.

"I spent 12 hours in the airport, only for my flight to get canceled, and I couldn't go back to my apartment after that and spend New Year's alone, but I couldn't go to the Hard Deck either. I'm sorry," Bob adds. "I shouldn't have shown up here like this. I should've called you. You have plans."

You regard him, expression calm. "Don't be sorry. I'm happy to see you."

You're happy to see him. You're happy to see him.

Is it cold enough for the pink in his cheeks to be mistaken for a different kind of flush? He hopes so.

"Do you wanna come in?"

His eyes grow wide. "Oh... well, what about your party?"

You drop your shoulder in a shrug. "New Year's is kind of lame anyway. I was really going as an excuse to get dressed up because I never go anywhere fancy enough to wear this dress. It's been in the back of my closet for months."

His eyes drop to the dress again, and absently, Bob wonders what the material would feel like between his fingers, what it'd feel like to run his hand over the elegant slope of your hip. He swallows.

"It's quite a dress," Bob croaks. His mouth is so damn dry. "You, uh... You look really beautiful. It's really... yeah."

You watch him, expression softening like warmed butter. "Thank you, Bob."

You look at him – look past the backpack and the scuffed carry-on and the slightly baggy sweater that once belonged to his older brother – and Bob feels seen, really seen. He feels safe.

You bump the door open wider with your hip and reach for his luggage, wiggling your fingers playfully until Bob passes the suitcase over. He's rewarded with a beaming smile, radiant and warm.

"Come on. You like Chinese?"

You change after Bob comes in, hanging up your dress and putting on an oversized gray sweater, pushed up at the sleeves, and a pair of fleece pajama pants that aren't quite the right length for your legs, covered in white dots and blue and white snowflakes.

You order the food and put on your favorite New Year's Eve movie while Bob calls his parents and gets comfortable, changing into sweatpants. His mom is pleased that Bob isn't spending New Year's alone, but Bob chooses his words carefully.

He is spending New Year's with a friend, not with a girl.

She'd ask questions Bob couldn't really answer in your hall bathroom.

When Bob comes back in, When Harry Met Sally is on.

You explain: "It's my favorite New Year's Eve movie. I watch it almost every year. If I start watching it 28 seconds after 10:30 PM – exactly, like down to the second – I can count down to midnight while Harry is confessing his love to Sally in the New Year’s scene."

You curl up on the couch, nursing a glass of champagne, while Bob sips from a chilled can of Ginger Ale while Harry and Sally banter and dance around each other and fall in love.

Admittedly, Bob is only half watching.

He likes this movie, but Bob is much more interested in you.

He is rarely alone with you.

He usually comes to see you on the Naval base – sometimes even making up questions as an excuse to come and talk to you, bringing coffee as a thank you for your answers – or seeks you out at the Hard Deck. He drove you home once when Bob was working late and spotted you in one of the hangars, but otherwise, Bob has never been here before.

About 30 minutes into the movie, Bob gets overheated and sheds his sweater, leaving him in a white short-sleeve and sweatpants underneath the oversized blanket from your bedroom. It's made of some kind of sherpa and smells like you.

Everything in here smells like you.

His legs are sprawled out in front of him, resting on the coffee table between a half-eaten plate of spring rolls and what’s left of his chicken chow mein. He ate his body weight in noodles and miso soup, and Bob feels warm and relaxed – if bordering on uncomfortably full.

He can barely focus with the smell of your perfume in his nostrils; excruciatingly aware of you underneath the blanket next to him, curled up with your legs folded underneath yourself, head lolling to the side, dangerously close to resting on his shoulder; smelling like cherries and champagne and vanilla and you.

A countdown begins in the background of the scene.

“Five…”

You sit up underneath the blanket, which brings you closer to him, inadvertently.

“Four…”

Your arm brushes against Bob’s.

“Three…”

You watch the screen, excited, and count along.

“Two…”

Your lips part in a wide and excited smile.

“One…”

Cheers erupt on the screen, but Bob isn’t even pretending to watch the movie anymore. He’s watching you.

You grin at him, eyes bright, looking so beautiful that Bob can’t hold the words in.

“Can I kiss you?”

Surprise flashes across your face, soon replaced with a small smile. Bob can see a lipstick stain at the corner of your mouth from where earlier, you'd messily wiped the red from your lips with a cocktail napkin. He wants to reach out and smooth it away with the pad of his thumb. He wants to kiss the spot where the smudge used to be.

Instead, Bob holds his breath. Waits.

He shouldn't have said anything. You've been such a good friend to him. You changed your plans, invited him in.

What if Bob's ruined everything now?

You've never been so close. You ask, "Like a New Year's kiss? Or like a real kiss?"

What if Bob hasn't ruined anything at all?

“Both,” Bob says softly, like a confession.

What if?

You're glowing in the sparkle of multi-colored lights, still strung along the walls, still decorating the Christmas tree in the corner of the living room, blues and reds and greens, eyes glimmering, liquid warm. "Yeah. That'd be okay."

"Okay," Bob echoes, leaning in.

He presses his lips against yours in a gentle but firm kiss, cradling your jaw with a careful hand, stroking your cheek.

Bob doesn't linger. Doesn't press his luck.

He gives you a good and solid kiss and pulls back, eyes slowly opening.

"How was that?"

You lick your lips, and Bob follows the movement with his gaze, entranced.

"Kiss me again."

It's after midnight now, and uncertain, Bob asks, "Like a New Year's kiss?"

You shake your head, slow and clear, and lean in, and Bob meets you in the middle.

He kisses you in earnest now, kissing the smudge of red on the corner of your mouth, licking a drop of champagne from your bottom lip and sucking it into his mouth, running his hands over your skin.

You do the same, running your hands over his shoulders, over his neck, and knocking his baseball hat from his head, run your fingers through his hair. You pull on the ends of the strands, pull him closer, and god, it's all Bob can do not to moan into your mouth.

You're all warm skin and soft curves and sweet perfume, and Bob is drowning drowning drowning.

You knock the wind out of him, and eventually, Bob is forced to pull back and catch his breath. His chest is heaving. His cheeks are pink and warm.

You blink up at him, eyes wide and glassy, as if pulled from a dream, and give him a dazed smile. You murmur, low and breathless, "Happy New Year, Bob."

I think I'm in love with you.

"Happy New Year," Bob whispers instead.

end note: likes are always appreciated, but comments and reblogs make my whole day. i love hearing from y'all!

#bob floyd fic #robert floyd fic #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #robert floyd x reader #robert floyd x you #bob floyd angst #bob floyd fluff #laracrofted writes #fic: delicate #fic: bob floyd

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bloatedandalone04 · 1 year

Text

Fluff → 💕 | Angst → 💋 | Smut → 🔥

All works are written by me and are not given consent to be reposted anywhere else other than my own account (reblogs are fine)

HEADCANONS ↡

Yandere Ethan 💕

Dating Ethan Landry would include: 💕 🔥

Ethan In Bed 🔥

IMAGINES ↡

Romance is (not) Dead 💕💋 💌

↦the one where ethan is your boyfriend and you’re his alibi.

Needy 💕🔥

↦the one where ethan is desperate to get you all to himself.

Lips of an Angel 💕💋

↦the one where ethan falls in love with you from the moment he saw you.

The First Cut is the Deepest 💕💋🔥

↦the one where you break up then make up.

A Dream of You and Me 💕

↦the one where ethan finally has an excuse to talk to you.

Tainted Heart 🔥

↦the one where you encourage ethan’s thirst for the kill.

Vintage T-Shirt 💕🔥

↦the one where you and ethan make out for the first time.

The End of Love 💋

↦the one where you break up but still love each other.

Kiss Full of Color 💕🔥

↦the one where you and ethan sleep together for the first time.

Ruin Our Friendship 💕🔥

↦the one where you’re friends and hook up at a party.

High off Love 💋

↦the one where ethan mistook your kindness for love.

I Can't Save Us 💋

↦the one where things go terribly wrong during the big reveal.

Out of Sight 💕🔥

↦the one where ethan can't keep his hands off you during a group dinner.

Songs I Play When I’m Alone 💕

↦the one where ethan makes you playlist of songs that remind him of you.

Afterglow 🔥

↦the one where ethan caves and helps you get off after teasing you for hours.

Million Dollar Boy 💕💋

➪the one where you’re the other ghostface and ethan accidentally hurts you.

The Love Drug 💕

➪the one where you and ethan get drunk and confess your feelings for one another.

Can I Be Him 💕

➪the one where anika and chad set you up.

MINI-SERIES ↡

Cry Me A River 💕💋

↦the one where you cheat on chad with ethan.

Are You Gonna Be My Girl 💕🔥

↦the one where you hookup with ethan after an argument with chad. (prequel to CMAR)

#scream 6 ethan #scream 6 imagines #ethan scream 6 #ethan landry imagines #ethan landry x reader #fluff #angst #scream 6 #ethan landry #scream 6 x reader #smut #ethan landry smut #navigation #ethan landry masterlist

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seravphs · 1 year

Text

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — GUARDIAN ANGEL! GOJO x FEM READER

Kneeling by your bed, rosary wrapped around your knuckles, lips pressed to the burnished rosewood, you pray.

God, please send me another guardian angel.

A blast of static from the TV behind you.

The one you sent me-

“Hey, how does the thing work?” Gojo says, accompanied by loud thumps. You cringe in silence.

He’s strange.

wc — 3.7k

tags — religion, Gojo has to reckon with the consequences of being the strongest, domesticity, attempted (failed) mugging/attack, Gojo kills a man for you (non graphic), Shoko’s a good friend, bs angel lore, I think of this like a prequel to reader’s villain arc lol, title from closer by nine inch nails

You wake up to a man standing over your bed. Understandably, you scramble backwards, hands over knees over legs over feet, all your limbs tangled together, until you bump into your headboard.

“Hi!” He says cheerily. “Wow, haven’t gotten that reaction in a while, not since- Anyways. I’m Gojo Satoru, your guardian angel. Please make breakfast, it’s 12 pm already and I’m starving. Your sleep habits are terrible.”

You shake, terrified. Nothing he said has gone through your brain.

“Um, hello? Deep breaths now. It’s really not that serious, can you stop that? Hellooooo,” he’s snapping his fingers in front of your face, trying to get through to you.

You panic and bat his hand away, but if you can touch him, that means he’s real. You’re not dreaming. There’s a strange man in your house calling himself your guardian angel. You try to pull yourself together enough to make a coherent sentence. What comes out is:

“Um. Guardian angel. What?”

“You don’t believe me,” he says.

You’ve heard it can be dangerous for people suffering from delusions to be forcefully brought out of their dreams. “No,” you say carefully. “I’m sure this is all a big understanding.”

“No, that’s okay,” he laughs. “I love getting to do this.”

Massive wings unfurl from his back. It’s a strange sight. The air seems to ripple around them, iridescent ebbs and flows of the universe to make space for the impossible. They seem to sprout right out of his shoulder blades.

It’s undeniable, irrefutable proof. Your brain can’t process this. It goes back to sleep.

You wake up to the smell of bacon burning in the kitchen.

Gojo hums as he cooks, his wings out. You’re almost worried they’ll get caught in the flames when suddenly you have something much more real to worry about.

“Ow!” He’s about to stick his finger into his mouth when you intervene, scolding him without even thinking about it.

“That’s dangerous! Don’t put your hands in your mouth, especially not if you’ve been cooking. Come here,” you tug him over to run his hands under the faucet.

“Who's the guardian angel again?” He teases, amused.

You answer him with another question. “Why are you cooking, anyways?”

“You’re starving me! It’s so late and you haven’t made breakfast yet - you know I could report you to the authorities for angel abuse, right?”

Somehow, you don’t believe him. There may very well be a division in heaven’s bureaucracy dedicated to looking after angels, but something about Gojo is just on the edge of unbelievable, like if you blink too hard, it might disappear without a trace. It’s the wings, probably.

You’re good at compartmentalizing, so you ignore all of the normal reactions someone would have to an angel randomly appearing in your apartment to instead make breakfast. Gojo already burned your favorite pan, so you stick it in the sink to soak while you rummage around for your second best set. Then you check the fridge. You’re out of butter and eggs. There are just two pieces of bacon left. Is it presumptuous to ask your angel to run errands with you?

You poke your head out of the fridge to look at Gojo, staring remorsefully at the burnt remains of his once-was-an-egg. He’s nursing the cut on his finger.

“Do you want to go grocery shopping?”

He smiles at you, slow and syrupy and-

He can’t do that. He’s beautiful as it is, as if God took extra time crafting him. Smiling only makes his beauty all the more painful, tugging at the strings of your heart. His snow white hair curls against the nape of his neck, a ruthlessly cute detail you notice when he tilts his head at you.

“I would love to. What’s grocery shopping?”

Introducing Gojo to the modern world is an exercise in both patience and childish wonder. There’s so much he doesn’t know. He tells you the last time he’s been on Earth was somewhere back in the 90’s.

“Like 1990? That’s pretty recent,” you remark.

“Like 90 CE.”

He’s delighted by everything, even the simplest of snacks, and begs you to add them to your cart. Ramune impresses him to no end. He’s enthralled by the taste of ice cream after the nice worker gives him a sample. You might really be reported to the Bureau of Angel Abuse at this point - all he’s interested in is junk food. It takes a while to finally wrangle him away from everything. In a way, it’s your fault because you hesitate to refuse an angel anything, and Gojo wants it all. You only manage to get him to agree to go home once you’ve tired him out.

There was a sense of reverence, at first.

There’s an angel living in your home. It’s hard to imagine getting used to that. Walking into the bathroom to the sight of Gojo brushing his teeth shirtless, his wings out, is a sight that will never get old. He manages to transform even the mundane into the divine. The sunlight strikes his hair at just the right angle to glow, giving him a faux-halo.

“Good morning,” he smiles. “I think I used up all your toothpaste.”

By day seven, you’ve wised up to Gojo’s tactics. If you don’t say no to anything, he’ll steamroll right over you, so you have to grow a backbone.

“Oh, Christ? Yeah, we’re old pals. We go wayyyyy back.”

“Please be quiet while I’m trying to pray.”

“We’re in the same therapy group, actually. He texts me all the time for advice-“

“Gojo. Shut. Up.”

He’s silent for all of a minute before he pipes up again. “I don’t think capital G up there would appreciate that.”

You have never missed a day of prayer in your life. No temptation has been able to sway you from your duties. Hunger, thirst, and pain all were swept away in the face of your faith. Were you seriously about to start now, being annoyed to death by a particularly useless angel?

The best solution to Gojo is always to ignore him. He needs attention like flowers need water.

Without it, he stalks off to sulk.

It’s night by the time he returns. He’s flying, which you usually don’t allow him to do, but you’ve driven out to a more remote, private church to pray. It’s owned by an old family friend, who handed you the keys without question. Half of this is for you, to experience god in the sanctity of nature, and half is for Gojo. You hate seeing him cooped up. Part of you feels like you’ve chained him down. You’re a trap in the form of a human, made to keep him grounded.

He touches down next to you, hair slicked to his forehead in sweat. When he stretches his arms, his wings move simultaneously. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look more alive. He loves nothing like he loves flying, and you’re inclined to agree.

Maybe you’ll let him take you for another ride tonight. You love the feeling of the wind against your face, the sight of the landscape beneath you when he takes you up, the feeling in your stomach when he tucks his wings in and free-falls for fun. You’re not scared. Gojo would never let anything happen to you.

You might ask, later. Now, you send him off to the car ahead of you while you lock up. He’s cheerful as he heads off, whistling merrily. You’re glad flying has improved his mood. It’s equally painful for you whenever he’s upset with you. Perhaps it's simply a side effect of being a guardian angel .

The key is in the door when you feel the first hint of danger.

“All the money in your pockets, ma’am.”

Polite, for a thief.

“You’re not from around these parts.” He says as you spin around. “Should’ve known better than to go wandering around these woods alone. Whatever happens next is on you, sweetheart. If only you’d been a little more careful.”

He has a knife.

“What do you want? Money? You can have it.” It doesn’t matter much to you. As long as he leaves before Gojo comes back.

“Sometimes, ma’am, men don’t want anything but a thrill.”

Then he lunges at you, presses you against the wall, and pins you with a knife to your throat.

“Don’t scream now. No one would hear you anyways.”

He’s wrong about that part.

You hear him coming up the path before you see him.

“What’s taking you so long?” Gojo whines. “I wanna go home and watch Love Island already-oh.”

“Run!” Gojo might be an angel, but you’ve seen him cut himself making toast. He can bleed like any other man, gold ichor, yes, but blood still. You don’t want to see him hurt.

Instead, he sizes up your assailant, unfurls those beautiful wings - they always take your breath away - and in one swift move, simply tears you from his grasp. It’s faster than you can blink.

The man makes a muffled sound of fear and shock as Gojo seems to blink back into existence. You know he’s only moving too fast for your brains to comprehend.

“Stay here,” he deposits you on the grass behind him. It’s scorched, burned black from the temperature of his wings.

He turns up the heat. You didn’t think it was possible, but he was clearly holding back. The air seems to melt around him, heat waves shimmering off his skin, his white feathers. They glow with an otherworldly light, radiating heat.

You didn’t know true glory until this moment, and it frightens you. All other versions of blue fade in favor of Gojo’s eyes - a single, unyielding truth. He is a piece of heaven on earth, burning up. His anger is righteous. Holy. His true nature melts away his human appearance.

He’s a seraph, one of the highest order of angels.

You’ve never seen him fight before, don’t know how he gets his weapons or where he puts them. It just appears out of thin air. He carries a flaming sword in one hand, its pommel is white marble, its blade glass. Contrary to common belief, his voice doesn’t boom. In fact it’s all the more threatening because it is soft, a whisper so clearly heard it defies the laws of the world just because it can.

He raises the sword like an executioner and judge all in one.

You barely have time to close your eyes in horror when you realize what he’s about to do.

Real angels are not like the watered down, commercialized ones you can find today in any young adult TV show. Real angels are bloody. Real angels are the hand of God, ruthless and violent.

Real angels have no mercy.

You open your eyes again when you feel the now familiar heat on your skin.

He’s standing before you, beaming. It’s clear he expects praise. In heaven, it might’ve been given to him.

You can only stare at him in fear, not awe.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He steps closer, his burning wings flapping. “It’s okay. I got rid of him. You’re safe now.”

You’re ashamed a split second after it happens because it’s so pathetic, but you can’t help it. Your animal instincts react instinctively to the threat, sending you skittering back on your palms and ass away from him.

He freezes. His wings remain moving. Perhaps, like a shark and its gills, he simply can’t stop.

“You’re afraid of me,” he says, stunned. “Why are you afraid of me?”

The heat from his wings is baking your face. You’re afraid if you speak, your skin will crack. Still, Gojo shows no signs of leaving you alone. If anything, he’s about to get closer.

“Stop,” you squeak. You throw out your hands in front of you like the world’s most useless shield. Your eyes are watering from looking into his radiance.

Helpless, Gojo does something he hasn’t done since he was just a newborn angel.

He asks for help.

Shoko Ieri looks nothing like him, so that answers one question you’ve always had. Gojo tells you she’s another angel, although you don’t see her wings past the first minute you’ve met. After Gojo summons her to the scene and she catches the way you look at him, she keeps them carefully folded in.

She helps you into the passenger seat when you can’t make your legs move to walk back to your car. You won’t let Gojo touch you, feeling torn at the look on his face when you flinch back from him.

He’s sitting on a stool at the island while Shoko checks you over for injuries in the kitchen. There’s no major damage, just the after effects of shock and adrenaline working through your system.

“You know I’d never hurt you, right?” He says, hurt and confused.

“You fucking idiot. You colossal blockhead. You-“ Shoko pauses, not because she’s run out of things to say, but because she has too many. “It’s not about you, right now, okay? I know it’s hard for you to get your head out of your ass, but can you at least try to be supportive?”

Gojo makes a noise like he wants to protest, but you shift your weight and that draws his attention back to you. The look on your face makes him fall silent.

Shoko leaves after she’s completed her examination, though she doesn’t leave you helpless.

“Do you want to come with me?” She says, carefully. “I understand if you don’t want to be left alone with him right now.”

You shake your head.

“Listen, I know Gojo scared you. I’m sorry. He shouldn’t have. He’s always been too reckless - ugh. The stories I could tell you. But I promise you, he will never hurt you - not just because he cares about you, but because he’s literally not allowed to. He’s your guardian angel.”

“I know,” you say, and that’s the end of that.

There’s an uncomfortable silence after Shoko leaves. You’re not sure how to navigate the once easy relationship between you and Gojo now. Always unable to keep still, he breaks the silence first.

“Do you want to talk about it now?” He says softly. Everything about him is dulled, even the gleam of his brilliant hair. He’s back within his human skin, even more modestly than before, as if he has taken care to seal up every crack that his true nature could spill out of.

You choose your first question carefully. “Why has the lord sent a seraph to watch over me?”

Seraphs are the highest level of the hierarchy of angels. They maintain the order of the world, fulfilling God’s will. For one to have come to you-

True horror is sinking in. You love your saints. You worship them devoutly, knowing each story by heart. You could trace a path through the church library of all the books you’ve read on them, giving the history of each spine.

You do not want to be one of your saints.

Joan of Arc died at 19. Saint Agatha was canonized for being tortured violently.

By sending you such a strong protector, your lord may be condemning you to die young, but that’s not why you cry. You cry because you are too weak to fulfill his command.

Life is sweet. You don’t want to give up the taste of tart oranges on your tongue, the feeling of the babbling creek over your feet, the songs of the birds in the morning. You don’t want to give up Gojo’s wake up calls, or the feeling of flying.

All these selfish, worldly pleasures should mean nothing to you when faced with the lord’s call, and yet-

You resent it still.

You’re so confused by it all. Why were you given such a burden and told nothing about it? What does any of it mean?

“I don’t know. I’m sorry. We don’t get told anything but who we were assigned to.”

“Okay,” you say.

“That’s it? Okay? I scare the shit out of you, and all you have to say is okay?”

“Gojo, I don’t want to fight anymore. Let me just go to bed, please.”

You’re woken up not by the light of Gojo’s halo, as you’ve gotten used to when he comes to your room demanding breakfast, but by the sun. The curtains are open, and sunbeams stream in over your pillow.

Gojo is in the kitchen making - not burning - breakfast. He doesn’t turn when you pad into the kitchen on slippered feet, but you know he knows you’re there. You’re feeling much better. Sleep has refreshed you from the major shock to your system last night, and now you feel almost half bad for your reaction to him. He only wanted to help you, after all.

It’s not his fault he’s strong. At the end of the day, he’s just another gear in the universe, like you. Neither of you are important enough to be privy to the greater, divine plan, not even a seraph. You shouldn’t have snapped at him. You’re in this together.

You stand on tiptoe behind him to peer over his shoulder into the pan.

“I’m making you breakfast,” he says. Is it just you, or does he seem almost shy?

What an impact you’ve had on him. Your heart breaks. You’ve only known him to be bold and uncaring of human customs like politeness. You didn’t think it would upset you to see him learn manners, and yet-

It’s a consequence of your rejection last night, as if he’s worried you’ll pull away again. This isn’t what you wanted, ever.

“We should talk,” you say.

“Yeah. We should.” He still won’t turn around, avoiding eye contact.

Before you can speak, he blurts out, “ Do you not want me to be your angel anymore?”

“Of course not,” you say, reaching out for him. He’s hesitant to let you pull him closer, take his hands in yours. “Gojo, why would you think that?”

“You’re scared of me,” he says, almost petulantly, like a sulking child. “You don’t like me anymore.”

“Gojo,” you can think of nothing to say but his name. Sweet Gojo. Selfish Gojo. Gojo, who you’ve gotten used to having around. Gojo, who has infiltrated your life and now thinks to leave like you can kick him out like that. Like you would. Gojo, who you’re fond of in a way you can’t articulate, despite the way he takes and takes from you. Gojo, who you’re willing to keep, despite everything.

Gojo, who you care about, enough to want him to stay.

Gojo, who cares about you, enough to want to leave.

He takes this like a rebuff and wrenches his hands out of yours.

You grab his face and forcefully drag his attention back to you. His eyes are wild like a trapped animal, but there’s no sign of fire. He’s carefully dampened any kind of godliness in him.

“Oh, Gojo. Please don’t. I want you with me, I promise. I would never ask you to leave.”

“You don’t have to,” he says grimly. A soldier to the end. He knows how to do the hard things. Sometimes, you have to cut the rot out before the wound festers.

“I am scared of you - please don’t make that face. You’re breaking my heart.”

“Your heart? What about mine?” He bristles.

“I trust you. Let me prove it. Take your wings out again. Show me your true self.”

“After seeing how you reacted?” He scoffs, turning defensive. You’ve exhausted his goodness, and now his emotions are getting the better of him, making the situation ugly. But you knew this would happen.

You know him.

And you know how to deal with him.

“Come on,” you say. “Think of it like exposure therapy.”

“I don’t want to see you look at me like that again,” he admits.

“I know you won’t hurt me,” you say. “Please. Do you trust me?”

He ends up on the ground cross legged, his wings spread, back to you. His wings are fiery, but carefully controlled. He won’t burn you.

You start small, running your hands all over his wings. They rustle underneath your touch like startled animals. When you tug gently at the ends, extending them to their full length, you realize how monstrous his wingspan truly is. From tip to tip, they’re larger than a grown man is tall. Your fingers creep along the thin ridge of his radius, deceptively thin beneath your fingers. If you didn’t know better, it would snap easily with just the barest hint of pressure.

He makes a small noise. You jerk back, worried you’ve actually bent the bone, but he’s fine. He pushes his wings back under your hands like a puppy seeking attention.

From the radius, you trail along the top edge to his metacarpus, then down to his feathers, all the way back to his scapula. From there, it’s only a few inches over to his actual shoulder blades. He shudders when you touch him there, your fingertips lightly grazing over the bone. You press down gently. His muscles flex under your skin, tense and wound up.

You realize that he's been suspiciously quiet for a while. He’s too still, as if he’s purposely holding himself in place. Have you hurt him without knowing? Would he tell you if you had?

“Gojo?” You pull your hands away from his wings and he shudders as if he’s been burned. “Look at me.”

He won’t turn, so you grab him by the chin and force his head up so you can look him in the face. Even down on the floor like this, he’s tall. His face is pink, his eyes wide like he’s been stunned. He looks almost like he’s in pain.

“What’s wrong? Why didn’t you say anything? Does it hurt?” You fret over him.

“Doesn’t,” he says hoarsely. “Feels too good.”

You freeze. It’s this sight of an angel in all his celestial grace wrecked by your touch, brought down by just the brush of your fingers, that makes you realize it.

It feels good to have an angel at your feet.

#sera writes #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader

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princess--af · 11 months

Text

Nesting Pt 2 (Felix & Changbin)

... Sorry? I have actually been really busy with uni and work since it's EOFY and everything just goes to shit.... Whoops lol. I have the prequel semi-written but it will take a little bit to flush it out. I am on break from uni until 26 June so should be able to work on it and a few more things as long as life doesn't kick me in the ass :)

Tagging some people: @justayoungandwisefangirl @3rachasninja @bmnyy @licklix @iadorethemskz @nobody3210

Nesting Part 1

You brushed it off as just a noise from downstairs, instead threading your fingers through the soft blonde hair on the nape of his neck, tugging lightly, curious to see what kind of reaction you would get.

You didn’t expect the soft whine Felix let out in response, muffled against your lips, but still clear as day to anyone in the room. “Y/N…” Felix whined, breaking the kiss to tuck his head into your neck, biting down on the junction between your neck and shoulder to muffle his groan when you tugged on his hair harder.

“Felix,” you whined back teasingly. He grumbled something under his breath before resuming his artwork on your neck, sucking almost painful bruises anywhere he could reach. Every time you let out a shaky whine, he would sooth the area with his tongue before moving on, working his way from your jaw, to behind your ear, to the top of your shoulder, down your chest, until your dress stopped him from going further. Huffing, he tried tugging the straps down your arms, determined to get it out of the way so he could keep going.

“Hey, wait, we didn’t talk about-“ you used one hand to cover your rapidly rising and now mostly bare chest, the other instinctively curling around his nape to move him away from your bruised chest. “Felix, you asked to kiss me. I didn’t think we’d be…”

Felix blinked at you slowly, licking his swollen lips, eyes darting from your face to your uncovered chest. You had to be honest with yourself; the way he was looking at you like he was going to devour you whole, made you flustered. And horny. If it weren’t for his body in the way, you would’ve been clenching your thighs together for any kind of friction right now.

“Please stop looking at me like that,” you whispered, not able to look him in the eyes anymore, instead fixing on his chest, smooth and perfect skin peeking out from his silky shirt.

“Like what?”

You startled slightly. Felix always had a deep voice that contrasted his otherwise angelic appearance, but it was now so deep and grumbly, you wouldn’t have thought it was him except for the barest accent that always followed the Australian-native around.

You cleared your throat, moving your hands so they were both covering your chest now, feeling a little insecure with how intensely he was staring at you. “Like you’re going to eat me,” you replied, braving looking him in the eyes now to see his reaction.

His eyes widened minutely for a moment, before curling into sweet little crescents as he laughed. His hands at your sides started wriggling their way underneath your body until you were completely encased in his arms, Felix now nuzzling his head into your chest, nipping at your fingers until you moved them and stopped covering yourself.

“I’d like to eat you…”

He caught the fabric of your dress between his teeth, looking up at you through his lashes, innocently blinking up at you as he moved slowly down your body, the flimsy satin of your dress easily sliding along with his movements until it was bunched at your hips. You flicked your hands out of the straps, breathing out shakily at the devilish grin Felix gave you, nimble hands lifting you slightly to slide the dress the rest of the way off, leaving you in just your bra and panties.

He flung the dress behind him carelessly, and any argument you may have had left your mind when he started leaving open mouthed kisses along the insides of your thighs, hands forcing them open when you instinctively tried to close them. “Stay still for me. No closing these.” You nodded, not quite trusting your voice, tightly gripping the soft blankets beneath you. Felix gave you one more cheeky smile before hooking a finger in the crotch of your panties, tugging the flimsy material to the side and licking one long stripe up your cunt. “Fuck, are you always this wet?” Felix growled into you, latching onto your clit and sucking harshly, rolling the bud between his plush lips, a loud squeak leaving you in response.

“Oh go- Felix.” He had barely begun and he was already leaving you more of a mess than any of your past partners had. His tongue switched between soft, teasing figure eights over the swollen bud, and firm flicks up and down, seemingly intent on driving you crazy and leaving you on the cusp of the edge already.

“Do you think you can cum just from my mouth?” He barely took his mouth of you to ask, the vibrations making you whine and throw your head back. “I think you can. I know you can. Pretty girl will give me anything I want, as long as I lick her pretty pussy, hmm?” The only response you gave was a low moan, hips twitching up off the bed when he gave a harsh suck on the swollen bud. Felix moved his hands to your hips, encouraging your gentle movements, his tongue held steady and firm for you to roll your pussy against.

“Felix,” you whimpered, hands cramping from where you were holding the blankets so tight, hips stuttering to a barely there roll against his mouth. “Felix, please.” You pressed down onto his tongue more, letting out a little sob when he sucked your swollen clit between his lips, tongue flicking quickly and harshly against it, his hands gripping your hips with almost bruising force to prevent you from moving away from his face. “God yes, almost-” You chanced a look down at him, his dark eyes already looking at you, pupils blow down as his mouth brought you to the edge. His teeth scraping lightly against your clit we’re what did it, a cry spilling from your lips as your orgasm washed over you, your whole body shaking as the pleasure worked its way from your ravaged pussy to the rest of your body, Felix’s tongue not stopping its assault on you until you were bucking out of his hold, whimpering and whining that you were sensitive.

Felix gently lowered you back onto the blankets, giving you one last teasing kiss on your mound before perking up onto his knees, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Good?”

You giggle weakly, nodding your head, arms held up for the boy to dive into. Felix tucked his head into your neck, careful not to rest too heavily on your sensitive lower half. It was only then that you noticed the two creamy coloured ears poking out of his blonde hair, tickling your jaw. “Oh, your ears?” Felix simply hummed, and you noticed a flicking in the corner of your eye. “And tail. Am I ignorant or have they not been here the whole time?”

You didn’t get a response from the boy. You began carding your fingers through his hair, scratching tentatively at the base of one of his ears, the soft purring giving away how much he seem to like it.

“They only come out at certain times. Usually when he’s happy.”

The shriek that came out of you was unholy, jumping so violently that Felix fell of you and into the blanket mound next to you. Standing just inside the door, leaning leisurely on the wall, was Changbin.

“I feel very happy when I get to pleasure someone.” Felix stretched out on the blanket next to you, throwing one of your mostly naked body when he saw how surprised you were. “Don’t worry, he’s not angry. He’s probably just jealous.”

Changbin scoffed, but didn’t exactly deny it, pushing off the wall and making his way over to the nest, kneeling on the floor just outside of it. You were curious why he didn’t just get in, but held your tongue. “Did you have fun?”

It was silent for a moment before you realised he had directed the question at you, eyes curious and mouth twitching into a smirk. You glanced at Felix, the hybrid blinking sleepily at you.

“I did. Felix is… quite talented with his mouth,” you whispered the last bit, still a little embarrassed to have been caught. Changbin barked out a laugh, reaching out to ruffle Felix’s hair, ignoring the whine of annoyance as he messed up his hair. “He said you were okay with this.”

“Yeah, I am. I can’t deny him anything he wants, and he’s certain he wants you,” Changbin shrugged, a fond look on his face as he watched Felix struggle to fix his fluffed up hair. You could see how much he loved and adored the young hybrid, and you weren’t sure if you were jealous of Felix for having someone love him so dearly, or of Changbin for being able to love so deeply without consequence. “As long as you don’t let it affect your work, I don’t really care what you do together. You’re both adults, and I trust you’ll both be safe.”

Felix wiggled happily next to you, finally forgetting his hair to launch himself at Changbin and pull him into the nest, rolling around until Felix was tucked between you both, lying on his side, making Changbin curl behind him, the hybrid facing you with a sneaky grin on his face. You copied his position, blanket still hiding your body, lying on your side with your hands tucked in front of you. “Can we play when you’re here, Binnie?”

“Felix!” Both you and Changbin yelled at the same time, Changbin giving a warning tug on Felix’s tail, you simply settling for a glare. It didn’t deter the boy a bit.

“Y/N, I don’t know if you know this, but being part cat means I can smell and hear a hell of a lot more than humans can,” Felix started, batting away Changbin’s hands when he tried to cover the hybrids mouth to silence him. “At first I thought it was just nervousness from being around your boss, but you’re awfully close to each other now, and your heart still flutters whenever Binnie is close-by, and not to weird you out but I can kind of smell when you get turned on…”

Well. You didn’t fucking know he could do all that.

“Binnie also talks A LOT when he drinks, and I know he thinks you’re hot and wouldn’t mind sharing…”

Changbin let out a loud groan, burying his face into the back of Felix’s neck. You couldn’t see what he was doing, but the gasp Felix let out made you think he had bit the boy. They certainly had a thing for biting. “You’re a menace.”

“What do you say, Y/N? He doesn’t have to touch you if it’s weird, but I like sharing, and I want to share these moments,” Felix put on of his hands on your hip, squeezing gently. He began kneading again, squeezing and pulling, almost like he was trying to entice you and pull you closer, but playing it off like it was innocent.

Yeah it was kind of fucking weird, being intimate with your boss watching. All you had to really do was get the idea that he was your boss out of your head, and you would probably really fucking enjoy whatever the pair had to offer you, even if it was only just for a short while.

You let out a sigh before you wiggled closer to Felix, catching Changbin’s eyes from where he was peeking out from behind Felix. You could tell he was smiling, even if you couldn’t see the rest of his face; the sweet crinkles around his eyes gave way to his obvious excitement.

Felix perked up instantly, curling his arm the rest of the way around you so he could pull you flush against his front. His hand gripped the blanket covering you, pulling it away slowly so as to give you a chance to back out. You gripped his shirt between your shaking hands to stop you from pulling it back, feeling awfully more insecure now that there were two of them looking at you.

Sensing you weren’t going to stop him, Felix flung it off the rest of the way, gripping your thigh almost possessively in one hand and pulling it up around his hip, exposing your lower half.

“I’m still a bit sensitive,” you whispered, twitching when his fingers gently circled your clit over your panties. It was a weird sensation; you weren’t used to multiple orgasms to close together, most of your previous partners usually just giving you one as an afterthought after they had already cum. It was a tad painful, but Felix was gentle as he drew light circles on the bud, the pain faded into an almost calming oversensitivity that made your body tingle. You didn’t flinch when you felt another hand tug the soaked material down over the swell of your ass, instead helping to shimmy it down and kicking the material off somewhere with the rest of your belongings. This hand was rougher than Felix’s, but was still soft as it held your leg up so Felix could continue to play, fingers dipping lower until he was teasing your entrance.

“Be gentle, baby,” you heard Changbin mumble into Felix’s neck, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your thigh where he was holding it up. It was all Felix needed to push a finger into you, shushing you softly when you let out a little whimper. You had to remind yourself to relax your body around the intrusion, letting out shaky breaths as Felix thrust his finger in and out, experimentally curling it slightly more each time until he felt you tense up and moan out softly.

“There we go,” Felix giggled, pushing a second finger in to join the first in rubbing against your spot every second thrust into you, leaving you panting in his chest and clenching your body so tightly to try keep his fingers inside that you thought you would cramp up. You growled in frustration at his slow pace, pushing your hips down to chase his fingers whenever they pulled out; as much as you could with Changbin gripping your thigh so hard you could barely move your lower body.

“Please go faster.” You thumped his chest lightly, not even feeling embarrassed at the little laughs that came from the two men.

Felix shifted slightly, getting more comfortable before he really started, arm tensed and shaking violently as he fingered you, pressing against your most sensitive spot almost brutally every time his fingers pushed back into you knuckle deep. You moaned in relief, trailing a hand down to Changbin’s, loosing his grip and leading his hand to your neglected clit. You caught his eye over Felix’s shoulder, shooting him a pleading look.

You could’ve squealed in delight when he began circling your clit, the roughness of his fingers sending sparks of pleasure up your spine.

“You gonna cum for us, pretty girl?”

You could barely hear Felix over the obscene wet sounds your pussy was making, growing louder when Felix somehow sped up even more, Changbin matching the speed with the circles he was abusing your clit with.

“Fuck yes.” You threw your head back onto the pillows, baring your throat for Felix to latch onto, the hybrid biting down on your neck and sending you over the edge. You cried out, a mix between moans and whines and genuine sobs as the boys worked you through your second orgasm of the night, your body trembling at the oversensitivity but not wanting to push them away. You could barely feel anything, not even twitching when Felix pulled his fingers out of you, only watching through blurred eyes as he sucked the wetness from his fingers with a smirk, turning his head to give Changbin a heated kiss. If your body wasn’t already depleted of energy for the night, the sight of them kissing would be enough to get you going again. It took you a minute to realise they had stopped, now both levelling you with heated looks.

Felix ducked back into your neck and licked over the wound he had created, Changbin’s hand reaching over Felix to cup the other side of your neck, pressing his fingers into the bruises Felix had created earlier until you were whining out.

“We’re definitely sharing you from now on.”

487 notes · View notes

selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs · 5 months

Text

Delayed package

Self-Aware! Fyodor Dostoevsky x GN! Reader x Self-Aware! Nikolai Gogol

Description: Right before BSD Cast got into your world, you ordered something. But, as it often happens, your package got delayed And, because of BSD Cast arrival and you moving out, you totally forgot about your package. Until one day, when it finally arrived.

Prequel to Two detectives in your bed

Warning: OOC. English is my second language.

You were mindlessly browsing the Internet. The room was dark and only light from your laptop screen illuminated the room. Thankfully, you were on vacation and have as much free time as you want. You yawn and glance in your phone screen. It was 3:00 am.

Three months before BSD Cast Arrived to this world

___________

You, probably, should go to sleep. But, you don't want to.

Many students left to visit their families. They will spend holidays with theirs relatives. Parents, siblings, cousins, grandparents and others.

You don't have a place to return to. You were talking with your relatives, yes. But, they do show you, that no one want to see you.

You were alone.

You don't have friends. Because of your insecurities, you were afraid of making friends. You were afraid of making a mistake. Of being laughed at.

But you want to have someone. You don't want to be alone anymore.

A single sob escaped your lips. Holidays were the worst. No one around. You couldn't even watch TV and cuddle with a pet, because your landlord isn't allowed pets in the apartment.

You glance at your bed. Full of pillows and few plush toys. So you can cuddle them to sleep. Pretend, that you snuggle up with someone. That you are not alone.

It was a poor substitute, but beggars can't be choosers.

You shook your head and return to the screen.

Maybe, you could watch something. Maybe, you can rewatch your favorite BSD Moments?

You nodded to yourself and start typing the link of the site, where you watch BSD. It took a few moments for it to open. And, of course, there were ads.

Premium account, new book, anime figures, dakimakuras... What?

You scroll up, looking at the small colorful ad with pictures of a few body pillows with anime characters on it. Out of curiosity, you click on the ad.

A new site was opened in a new window. It looked normal. Menu with catalog and FAQ. Search bar. Online shop cart. Contacts. Site looked good.

Just for fun, you search for BSD dakimakuras. You don't forget to choose SFW prints only.

In few moments you got your results. It wasn't much, but, all of them looked good.

You scroll down, and saw, that two dakimakuras were on sale. With Fyodor Dostoevsky and Nikolai Gogol. You click on them, taking a better look.

According to information and reviews, the pillows were big and soft, the prints were colorful. Both dakimakuras were good.

You wonder if you should buy one.

They looked good for hugging.

You cast another glance on your bed.

Body pillow would be better, that many simple pillows.

After a quick search, you discover, that site, where you saw dakimakuras, were a legit one and wasn't scamming people.

You return to the site. You... could buy both Fyodor and Gogol pillows without worrying about your finances.

But, should you?

You stare at the screen.

Your apartment was quiet. Too quiet.

You were alone.

You click on "Add to cart" option.

_______

First month... Second month... Third month...

Shop apologize for loosing package and return money. They also allow you to keep the package, if, one day, it arrived.

Then BSD cast arrived in real world...

With them came friendship.

New home. New memories.

Camping trip with ADA. Scavenger hunt with Port Mafia. Shopping trip with The Guild. Visit to museum with Rats in the house of the Dead. Laser tug with Decay of Angels. Sport competition with Hunting Dogs. Homemade theater with kids.

Walks, movie nights, game nights.

Breakfasts, lunches, dinners.

And no more loneliness.

And you completely forgot about the package.

_____

You, Elise, Mori and Karma were ready to go.

Karma and Elise need something for school, so, you all decide to go on a small shopping trip.

Right before leaving the house, you got a notification. You check it.

It was from your previous neighbors. The big package with your name on it arrived in your old apartment. And neighbors asked you to hurry up and took it from them.

You frowned. You didn't remember ordering something on your old address. Still, you didn't want to make your neighbors wait. They were good neighbors. But, you will do busy these days and your old apartment are far away.

It seems, your worried expression didn't leave unnoticed. You heard Karma's soft voice.

"[Y/N]? Is everything alright?"

You nodded mindlessly. Mostly, it was alright.

"Yes, it's just... My previous neighbors got a package with my name on it. Ask me to take it as soon as I can."

Elise tucked her hair behind the ear. She tried to give you her best puppy dog eyes.

"So, we are going without you? But, [Y/N], without you, Rintarou will be unbearable!"

Mori stands behind Elise. He also looked a tiny bit sad. Thankfully, he didn't try to make puppy dog eyes on you. You would not bear looking at Port Mafia boss, who tried to beg like this for something.

"Elise-chan, [Y/N] will decide for themselves. And here I was planning to treat you all in a restaurant."

It is a blackmail!

You huffed. But, the problem still stands. Well, time to ask someone for help. You turned around and hurry to the living room.

"Will be back in a minute!"

____

You run into Fyodor and Nikolai in the living room. Nikolai was telling a story to Fyodor, actively gesticulating. Meanwhile, Fyodor was nodding from time to time, showing, that he is listening.

Noticing you, Nikolai stopped talking and waved. His smile became even bigger.

"Birdy! Good to see you. Do you decide to stay home with us? Great! Come on, sit down, right between Fedya and I!" Kolya patted the sofa next to where he was sitting. "We will keep you warm and comfy!"

It seems, Fyodor also liked the idea of you staying home. Unfortunately, you are needed. You will be an 'anchor' for Mori. Without you, he will go overboard with shopping and at the end of the day, instead of one adult, one teen and one child, three piles of bags will return home. You shake your head.

"Sorry, but I still must go. But I need help."

You explained, in a few words, what you need.

"So, can you two, please, go to my old apartment and take the package?"

Fyodor and Nikolai looked at each other, the Fyodor nodded.

"No problems, Myshonok. Just in case, should we check, what inside the package? To make sure it isn't damaged?"

You shrugged.

"Why not? Thanks, both of you. If you need anything, just call me."

You left the living room.

And soon you, Karma, Elise and Mori left the house.

Fifteen minutes later, Fyodor and Nikolai left to your old apartment.

______

You finally were back from your shopping trip. All of you get what you need and had lunch in a small restaurant.

You were ready to go to your room, when noticed, that there was a note on your bedroom door.

"[Y/N], please, go to my room. I will give you back your package. Fyodor D. P.S.: It would be nice to spend time together. You, Kolya and I."

You smiled. It was good, that everything went well. You decide to agree to spend some time with Fyodor and Nikolai as a 'thank you' for getting the package.

You walk into your room and changed in a what you call 'shuggly clothes for Fedya and Kolya'.

You were wearing a mouse kigurumi and a scarf, that Kolya gave you.

After getting ready, you go to Fyodor's room.

______

Something feels wrong.

Fyodor was unusually quiet. He locked the door behind you. Kolya wasn't here.

And something was laying behind Fedya's bed.

Fyodor turned towards you. His expression was neutral.

"Myshonok... Your package is here."

You nervously gulped. Did someone send something bad to you?

Fyodor took a piece of paper from his desk and hold it towards you.

"It came with the package."

You read the text.

And you were mortified.

You remembered ordering two dakimakuras almost a year ago. And lost package. And the prints.

You whined and looked at Fyodor.

He was holding them in his hands.

They were soft. They were real. They were in your house, and you don't have any idea what to do with them.

Fyodor were holding two big dakimakuras.

You take a step back. Only to crash into someone else's chest. You don't need to be a genius, to realize, that you were trapped between Fyodor and Nikolai.

Fyodor nodded a little.

Suddenly, a blanket was draped over you. And Nikolai was wrapping it around you tighter and tighter.

Five minutes later, everything was over.

_____

You were laying on Fyodor's bed. You were wrapped in a blanket. Like a candy. And you were stuck between Fyodor and Nikolai.

Fyodor was laying in front of you. His hand caress your face, slowly massaging it

Nikolai was laying behind you. He was spooning you, nibbling your earlobe from time to time.

And you feel, like you were on fire. They were so close. They were so soft.

And they were teasing.

Nikolai let go of your ear and whispered right into it.

"Tell me, Birdy, will this pillow ever kiss you during cuddles?" he returned to nibbling on your ear. You whimper.

"N-no, Kolya..."

Nikolai laughed and start paying attention to the spot right behind your ears.

You felt Fyodor's warm breath on your face. You close your eyes and his fingers started massaging your eyelids.

"Myshonok, will this pillow ever give you a massage during cuddles?"

You whimper again.

"No..."

Fyodor didn't answer, but, instead, softly kissed your eyelids.

Meanwhile, Nikolai chuckled.

"So, one point to us. No points to pillows. Next round."

Position was changed.

Now you were laying face to face with Nikolai. You felt Fyodor's breath on your neck, before he starts leaving small kisses on it. Nikolai's fingers run up and down your scalp, massaging it.

And you feel even more embarrassed.

Fyodor spoke again.

"So, do you want to explain, what the deal with the pillows?"

Once again, without waiting for your answer, Fyodor continues to lightly kiss your neck.

You spoke. Your voice was trembling.

"I... I didn't know... that you were self-aware... Order them almost a year ago... Forgot about it..."

Nikolai playfully boops your nose.

"And didn't know about the bonus pillow cases."

You nod. You feel even warmer now. Fyodor and Nikolai laughed. Fyodor started nibbling on your ear.

"I am not asking about that, Myshonok."

You were pretty sure, that you became ad hot as desert sand.

"I... I was so lonely... Before you arrived. I wanted to... Pretend, that I have someone in my life."

They were quiet. Then you felt Fyodor's lips on your cheek.

"Than today we will show you, that you will never be alone again, Myshonok"

Nikolai kissed the corner of your mouth.

"Don't worry, Birdy, we will take care of you. Just enjoy the warmth. And forget about the pillows."

Nikolai's grin became sly.

"But, please, remember, did you order pillow with us with... Adult print?"

You let out a muffled scream, hiding your face in Nikolai's chest.

You had a feeling, that they will never forget about dakimakuras.

______

What came next, you can describe with only one word. Heaven. Almost.

Without teasing about prints on pillows, it would be even grater.

You were warm.

You were cuddling with Fyodor and Nikolai.

One moment you were laying on Fyodor's chest, and he was showering your forehead in kisses.

The second moment, you were pressed against Nikolai's chest and he was kissing your hands.

You were pampered. You were caressed.

You weren't alone.

You fall asleep between Fyodor and Nikolai.

Safe. Sound. Not alone.

253 notes · View notes

highvern · 6 months

Text

Peaches

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x fem!reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: weed mention, alcohol mention, mention of horror movies

Length: ~3.4k

Note: Drunk Goggles first time at the farmers market. this is prequel numero uno, predating Jealousy and Bite the Bullet by a month/month and a half?

Also dedicating this to the most fabulous readers who've been so incredibly sweet since i started this series! @mingyuonthemoon @tomodachiii and @lavendermins kisses to you all

read more here

[WEDNESDAY 11:49PM] MINGYU 🥔: Looked up that farmers market you mentioned MINGYU 🥔: You didn’t tell me it was HUGE YOU: i literally said it was the biggest one in the city but whatever YOU: im going this weekend if you wanna come! MINGYU 🥔: You sure? Don’t wanna impose YOU: i mean its a public event so my opinion doesnt matter MINGYU 🥔: You really know how to make someone feel special YOU: its a talent YOU: but seriously, you should come. you’ll love it. MINGYU 🥔: sounds good :) YOU: ill pick you up at your place around 7:30? MINGYU 🥔: like 7:30 AM YOU: any later and parking is a NIGHTMARE YOU: i promise its worth it!!! if not ill buy your coffee MINGYU 🥔: deal

Mingyu can’t decide if agreeing to go to the farmers market with you was a colossal mistake or a monumental blessing. Not because he’s been forced to wake up at the crack of dawn, or because he thinks he won’t like the market once he gets there, or even because he is stuck with you for the day. But because the way you look in a white sundress, hem gently brushing your knees with every step, one of the spaghetti straps brushing the curve of your shoulder, knocks the air out of his lungs. The frilly linen fabric sways around your figure as a gentle breeze sweeps through, ruffling your hair and the white ribbon you’ve pinned in it to hold some of the tendrils back.

When you picked him up he hadn’t paid attention to anything other than his own grumbling from the early morning sun. But now, as you walk a step in front of him and ook over your shoulder with a soft grin as you approach the entrance to the market, Mingyu’s heart squeezes.

He knew you were attractive, he had eyes for Christ sake. Been privy to the plethora of guys who had been interested in you in college, including his own fraternity brothers that wanted Mingyu as their wingman. The knowledge you were pretty sat with Mingyu the same way he knew the sky was blue or water was wet, an unconscious truth no one had to tell him. But this morning, Mingyu finds himself smacked in the face with an awareness that makes his palms sweat.

And it only gets worse as the morning ticks away.

Your laughter tinkles like a jingle bell, his heart beating as if he ran miles and miles to hear it. While you both wait in line for coffee, you talk animatedly, hands thrown wide as you describe the layout of the market and almost knock into another customer, making Mingyu chuckle. When you turn around to apologize, the shy smile on your lips sends a hoard of butterflies through his stomach.

He truly is no better than a kindergartener with a crush on his teacher the way his heart thumps wildly and his words stutter. Hands clammy, stomach in knots; staring moony eyed when a ray of sunlight illuminates your skin just so, providing a warm halo to make you look like an angel.

In an effort to preserve his sanity, Mingyu chalks it up to the natural response any warm blooded man would have to seeing a pretty girl wear a pretty dress. There’s no reason to think anything more of it.

No reason to think anything more of the recent increase in your time spent together. Purely coincidence that Mingyu finally took DK up on the offer to attend the weekly trivia night you happened to be a regular at. The happy hour specials were good and so was the company of his friends. It didn’t matter that it was preceded by a movie night at his apartment a couple weeks ago, you both coincidentally sitting next to each other on the couch, breathing out snide comments about the horrible movie Jun suggested; or how you ended up staying well after everyone else left, insistent on helping Mingyu clean up, much his own chagrin. And even before that, when you ran into each other at a mutual friend's birthday party and ended up smoking a joint by the firepit in the backyard; unexpectedly chatting the entire night, clutching your stomachs from laughter.

You’re friends, you’ve been friends since high school, and now that you’re adults you simply appreciate the comfort and familiarity that comes from being such a long standing presence in one another’s life.

Simple as that.

Approaching a table tended to by a man that looks old enough to be his grandpa, Mingyu takes note of the wine bottles and various preserves set up. Wednesday night you mentioned the market in reference to the fruit wine a couple sold, excitedly telling everyone about how you knew the answers to the bonus question because of your frequent chats with the wife that runs the stall. Mingyu realizes this must be the people you speak of with such fondness.

“I was wondering when you’d stop by, dear.” The older man at the booth smiled warmly at you, clearly familiar with your presence.

“Sorry it took me longer than usual, Mr. Jung!” You smile, returning the same warmth to the vendor as you nod towards Mingyu. “I was showing my friend around. He’s never been here before.”

“Not to worry! I saved you a bottle of the peach wine you like just in case we ran out.”

“Did you really? Thank you!” You gush. “Mingyu hasn’t tried it before but I’ve told him all about it.”

Mr. Jung sets the aforementioned bottle on the table before turning around, “Since your boyfriend’s never had it, let me see if I still have any in the sample bottle!”

“Oh! He’s not my—”

But your objection falls on deaf ears as Mr. Jung turns to dig in the cooler at the back of his booth.

Mingyu can’t help the way his eyes shoot to your face, noticing the warm pink glow tinting the apples of your cheeks that was absent a moment ago, your gaze looking anywhere but him as you shift your weight back and forth. Swallowing, Mingyu finds himself taking an over interest in the jars of jams and jellies that line the table; reading the labels fervently but not absorbing a word.

Boyfriend. Mingyu thinks, turning the word over and over in his head. Huh.

Thankfully, the older man returns with a small cup of fizzy ocher wine quickly.

“Here you go, son.” He says, passing the cup to Mingyu. “My wife is the one who makes all of the wines! Peaches are her favorite so she spent extra time making sure it was just right.”

Taking a small sip, the saccharine flavor blooms across Mingyu’s tongue. The taste of alcohol barely whispers amongst the delicate notes of peach, honey, and something warm like cinnamon. He can see why you like it so much.

Finishing the cup, he smiles at your curious gaze. “That’s really good.”

“Isn’t it?” Your own grin splits your face as you turn back to Mr. Jung, “How much do I owe you for the bottle?”

“Since you're one of my best customers, this one’s on the house.”

“Oh, I really can’t!” You object.

Mingyu keeps smiling, watching as you shake your head to the kind gesture.

“Please, sweetie, it’s really no trouble. My wife told me how you wouldn’t take the bottle last week either but I’m much more stubborn. Do an old couple an honor and let them give you something for all the business you’ve brought us.”

The silent standoff between you and the elderly man would be comical if Mingyu wasn’t hyper aware of how soft your lower lip looks when set in a slight pout, or how the way you narrow your eyes draws attention to how full your lashes are.

“If you insist.” you finally huff.

“I do,” Mr. Jung smiles, a hint of warm smugness at the way you fold to his request.

“But I’m paying for the jam.”

Your tone leaves no room for questioning as you pick up several jars including a few of the ones Mingyu had pretended to look at earlier. Mr. Jung just shakes his head as you hand over cash for your purchase, swiftly giving you back the extra bills you tried to sneak in for the wine.

“I’ll be back next week, and I’m buying a bottle.” You grumble but take the change.

“Alright dear.” He placates as you turn to leave.

Once you’re a few steps away he turns to Mingyu and whispers. “Young man you better take care of that one, she’s a real treat.”

“She is, isn't she?”

With your head turned the opposite direction, Mingyu doesn’t see the shy smile you're trying to stifle as you keep walking.

The rest of the afternoon is filled with bustling from stall to stall, your reusable bags bulging as they slowly fill to the top. Mingyu insists on carrying the heavier one, happy to lug around your finds while subtly showing off his muscles. It also gives him an excuse to watch unabashedly as you practically skip to and fro.

A warm welcome greets you at several booths, many of the older ladies pointedly asking who your “handsome friend” is, and a few of the older men sizing Mingyu up like overprotective uncles. But Mingyu lets it roll off his back, ignoring the nagging feeling in the back of the brain wondering why it doesn’t bother him that people are assuming you’re more than friends. Instead, he focuses on charming as many of them as possible, making conversation and asking them about their products.

Just as you open your mouth to comment on the vintage locket you pointed out to Mingyu, a fat raindrop falls from the sky to burst on your cheek.

“Did you feel that?” You ask, looking at the swollen gray clouds rushing in to block the afternoon sun.

Glancing at the sky, Mingyu opens his mouth to say he hasn’t felt anything when a large bead peppers his own forehead, racing down to the tip of his nose.

A bone rattling crack of thunder is the only warning you receive as the skies open.

The market descends into madness; vendors rushing to pull their exposed wares under the cover of flimsy tents threatening to fly away in the gusts of wind. Patrons searching for cover under trees or the outskirts of tents that provide a sliver of protection against the downpour flooding the streets.

You register the warmth of Mingyu’s hand encircling yours, tugging you under the awning of a business behind the rows of tents and tables. You manage to both squeeze into the small space, barely a few inches between your soaking bodies, shivering as the wind whips against you.

“How far is the car?” Mingyu stutters, teeth chattering against the drop in temperature.

You can’t see beyond the wall of his chest that blocks you in, protecting you from the sheets of water falling from the sky and bouncing off the ground.

“Ugh…like two-ish blocks.” You try to gauge your location but everything beyond the cover of the awning is a blur. “I think.”

Another ear splitting boom of thunder, tailed by a flash of lightning has you both jumping out your skin and into one another.

“Let’s see if we can wait it out.” Mingyu finally decides.

Five minutes pass with no sign the storm will move on. The sidewalk is flooded, swamping your shoes as it carries leafs and other debris to the storm grate. Several of the people hiding with you decided to brave the storm, quickly disappearing out of sight.

“Wanna run for it?” You ask, peeking up at Mingyu as you shake in your soaked dress.

“Okay.”

Taking a second to organize your belongings, Mingyu bounces on his toes to psych himself up. It's only two blocks but the intensity of the storm means you’ll practically be swimming to the car. When you’re settled, you give him a nod. Once, twice, and then he’s breaking into a sprint towards the parking deck.

Your feet can barely keep up with his long legs, but you try your best; motivated by the warmth your car will provide and the spare blanket you keep in the trunk. Using an arm to shield your face, Mingyu’s silhouette is blurred as endless waves of water rain down from above. Each step kicks up the puddles at your feet but you can’t care, already saturated to the bone.

Turning a corner, the entrance to the parking garage finally greets you.

Catching your breath under the cover of concrete and metal, you finally look at each other. Mingyu’s hair is flat against his head, rivulets of water trailing down his neck. His white t shirt essentially see through, the oversized fabric once dwarfing his frame now clinging to his chest and arms. Even his pants suction to his legs, the light blue denim saturated to dark navy.

You squeal when Mingyu shakes his head vigorously to dispel the remaining water, not unlike a dog that just exited a bath.

“Gyu!” You yell, despite the fact that the few drops that fly your way aren’t going to do anymore than already has been done.

Your hair is plastered to your forehead and neck, tangled at the crown of your head from wind and rain. The once immaculate white linen dress now clutching your body, damp fabric dripping onto the cement where you stand. Sending a silent thank you to the universe that your underwear wasn’t visible, you waddle to your car to retrieve the blanket to dry off.

Storing your now soaked haul in the trunk, you take turns patting yourselves down with the soft worn quilt. The splat of water as you ring out your hair echoes through the nearly empty parking deck.

Mingyu offers to drive back to your apartment, confident he can navigate the raging storm for the twenty minutes it’ll take. Unwilling to emerge from the cozy warmth of the blanket swaddled around your body, you eagerly agree and toss him the keys.

Unfortunately, driving back to your apartment takes nearly double what Mingyu expected. Sheets of rain force him to proceed slowly, the gray of the sky blending with the pavement to make everything indistinguishable as other cars navigate sluggishly. The wind has only worsened, bending trees as thunder shakes the ground and lightning splits the sky.

Mingyu assures you that he doesn’t mind waiting out the rest of the storm at your apartment. He’d rather spend an extra few hours at your home than worry about you driving back from his alone.

Digging up an old hoodie and sweatpants belonging to a long forgotten ex for Mingyu to wear, you both get cozy on the couch; content to drown out the dreary weather with a movie. Mingyu suggests a horror movie much to your surprise but you indulge him, still feeling guilty that you hadn’t checked the weather before going out this morning.

After less than thirty minutes, the open bottle of peach wine is forgotten on the coffee table next to matching half full glasses. Two sets of eyes are shielded by the hem of the comforter spread across your laps, cowering against one another as the killer jumps across your screen once again to claim another victim.

With your heart pounding in your ears, you can’t think about the way Mingyu arm brushes yours or how his thigh is pressed snuggly against your own. How he’s using your back to shield his face, eyes squinted as he pops up over your shoulder when the movie calms for a second. Each movement sends his breath down the back of your neck, raising goosebumps you attribute to the terror flooding your system, the alternative even scarier than the film.

If he was of sound mind, Mingyu would realize his eyes can trace the tip of your nose down to your lips twisted in a wince as scream after scream pierces your ears. If he wasn’t two seconds from pissing his pants, he’d probably think about how alluring the plush flesh of your lower lip is, or how his nose is filled with the intoxicating scent of lavender shampoo and summer rain.

Another jump scare sends you both off the couch, your own screams echoing off one another.

“That’s it!” You quiver, diving for the remote to turn off the television.

“Oh my god.” Mingyu breaths, focusing on calming his frantic heart as his head tips back on the sofa.

“Why the fuck did you say we should watch that? You didn’t even open your eyes!”

“Jeonghan said it wasn’t that scary!”

Mouth comically wide and eyebrows furrowed, your face in complete disbelief.

“And you just… believed him?”

“Fair point but hurtful.”

Scrubbing your face with your hand, you sigh. “Let’s just watch something else. My pick.”

“As long as it’s not another scary movie, I don’t care.”

Your choice turns out to be of little consequence. As the afternoon hours bleed into evening, you and Mingyu rattle on like two friends reconnecting after years apart. The bottle of peach wine long consumed, followed by another bottle as conversation flows with each glass. The storm hasn’t let up an inch, continuing to pound against your windows, wind howling through the trees. But the noise is merely a backing track, blending with the long forgotten film dolling on the screen.

“Oh my god!” Mingyu snorts, “I forgot it was Jihyo that had to jump in the fountain.”

You also smile in amusement, “Oh trust me, she wants to keep it that way. I always send her the video on her birthday.”

“Why? It’s not that bad, everyone swam in at least once when we were in college.”

“Speak for yourself!”

“That’s right,” Mingyu nods. “You just went streaking in front of fifty people.”

“It wasn’t fifty people!”

“Close enough!”

“Lest we forget you mooned an entire party freshman year?”

“That’s not fair! We had to!”

“Yeah yeah whatever you say.” You’re cut off by your own yawn.

Checking his phone Mingyu realizes it’s well past midnight, “Damn, it’s late.”

“Oh shit you’re right,” Moving to the doors that lead to your small balcony you peek into the night, walls of water falling beyond the overhang from the floor above. “If you’re okay with it, you can stay here tonight. It’s worse than this afternoon.”

“Oof, you’re right.” The proximity of his voice startled you. You hadn’t realized Mingyu had moved so close, hovering a respectable distance away to look past you, into the darkness. “Only if you don’t mind!”

Instead of answering, you move to the spare linens housed in the closet hosting your washer and humming dryer filled with rain soaked clothes from earlier. The hoards of blankets on the couch should be enough but your own nights spent dozing on the plush sectional informed you that the fabric was quite itchy after a while. Snagging a pillow and a top sheet, you move back towards Mingyu before he promptly plucks them from your hands.

“I’ve got it.”

“You’re the guest!”

“Barely, we’ve known each other for what? Nine years now?” Mingyu shrugs. “Hardly counts anymore.”

Mingyu continues to brush off any attempt to help set up the couch. When he’s done, he plops down, fingers twining behind his head, displaying the bulky muscles that twist around his arms. His boyish smile and ruffled hair pull at your heartstrings. You simply toss the heaviest knit blanket you own on top of his splayed figure, relishing in the way the weight startled him as he fights to free himself.

“Night!” You call over your shoulder, unaware of the eyes full of curiosity following your retreat to your room.

With the lights out, Mingyu allows his mind to wonder. Boyfriend. he thinks again, staring at the popcorn ceiling above. In the years he’s known you, he can’t recall a time he thought about you romantically. Even the past few weeks you two had been hanging out; Mingyu thought he was seeking you out because he enjoyed your company, relishing in your humor and a shared history. But maybe there's another reason Mingyu hadn’t let himself accept.

Tonight, Mingyu’s dreams are filled with the sweet scent of peaches, soft linen dresses, and a distinct laugh that warms his blood. He tries to stop the girl tugging him along by his hand intertwined with hers, hoping to catch a glance of her face. It’s no use as she continues on, calling his name as she pulls him further and further towards whenever they were headed. He didn’t care much as long as she said his name again and kept her soft palm pressed to his.

And in the morning, when Mingyu wakes to you shuffling around the kitchen; eyes half open and face soft from sleep, padding to the coffee machine in a ratty old T-shirt with your hair a mess, he’s looking at you in an entirely new light.

#svthub #mingyu smut #kim mingyu #mingyu fics #mingyu drabbles #mingyu fluff #mingyu scenarios #mingyu imagines #svt x reader #kim mingyu x reader #svt smut #kim mingyu fluff #mingyu x reader #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #dghe couple #🫡 highvern

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thesassypadawan · 26 days

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Puck Slut .5 (Hayden x FemReader)

Summary: After meeting at a local sports bar, Hayden and you hit it off over your shared love of hockey. What starts off as an innocent friendship, soon progresses into a few casual dates. Which some, to no surprise, involve watching your teams face off against one another. Tonight’s date is a bit different. Even though your usual bet is in place, loser buys the winner dinner the next time you two go out. There’s a new, more interesting twist this time of… spice it up more. (The prequel to Puck Slut 1)

Warnings: 18+ (mdni), because there sooo much of the smut. Hockey, couch sex, taring of one lucky shirt and, as always…Hayden’s big dick.

Notes: An origin story for what will now be known as the Puck Slut series! Yes, I will officially be doing one for every time the Pens and Leafs face off!

Happy Hayden's (And Mine) Birthday Event! In honor of the man, the myth, the legend; I will be posting nothing but Anakin, Vader, and Hay stories all April long!

A little something for @myheartwillgoon2022! As soon as I read your request, I knew that I had to make it into the Puck Slut Origin story! I really enjoyed writing this, it was truly a pleasure! Hope you like it! And thank you for inspiring me to turn this into a series! ❤️

*Pregame*

- First of all, no hockey game would be complete without all sort of tasty snacks and a few ice-cold drinks. Especially ones that you may or may not have purposely picked, because they were someone’s faves.

- “Wow, you didn’t have to do all this; thanks.” Hay says so cutely, taking a sip from his bottle.

- You start to reply all sweetly. “Of course, it’s the least I could do; since you were nice enough to have me over.” Then teasingly add. “And you’re going to need some comfort food when the Leafs lose.”

- Gives your hip a playful pinch. “Oh, yeah? We’ll see who’s buying who dinner tomorrow night.”

- Squeaking a bit; you grab your own drink, along with a tasty treat. And plop ‘gracefully’ on the couch, somewhat close to him. “Which reminds me…I’d like to try that new burger joint.”

- You bet Hay’s going to pinch you again for that sassy, little remark. Snatching that goody from your hand, when you squeak and jump. What a butt.

- But he’s all adorable and smooth, wrapping an arm around you…pulling you right up beside him. “So, out of curiosity, would you want to make this game more interesting?”

- Besides getting to go out on another date with your ‘friend’… All right, you’ll take the bait. “Sure. What were you thinking?”

*Game Time*

- Normally you’d really be into the game. Cheering, hollering, cursing, the whole nine yards. But it’s kind of difficult to do so when your team hasn’t made a single goal and…you were sitting there completely, totally flustered.

- It was all because of the rules. Whenever your team scored a goal, you got a kiss from the other. Except…you had to "spice it up more" every time.

- The third period had just started with the Leafs up by three. And not even two minutes in…the siren went off. Seriously.

- A smug look crosses his face, and he looks down at you expectantly. “Well, angel; you know what to do.”

- Not really having any other ideas, you shyly climb into his lap. Resting your hands on his broad shoulders, pressing your lips softly against his. Little tongue slipping into his mouth; playing and wrestling with his. Just getting yourself more and more worked up.

- Before you’re able to crawl back out, Hay winds a strong arm around your waist. Holding you tightly against his chest. “Uh-uh, you’re not going anywhere. Leafs might score again.”

- Proceeds to make small talk about the game and feeding you snacks. Acting like this is the norm; like you’re not blushing mad crazy or wiggling from the growing bump pressing into your backside.

*Postgame*

- At last the final buzzer rang and the game ended, not before your team scored at the very last second.

- By then you’re so hot and bothered, that you’re sitting there impatiently. Hips shifting from side to side, pouting up at him. “Come on, Hay. My boys got one in. I want mine.”

- He flashes you that damn panty dropping smile. Big hands rubbing your arms soothingly, muttering in your ear. “You want a kiss, huh? All right, I’ll be sure to give you a real good one.”

- Lips crash together in a fiery kiss. Hands grabbing anything they could reach. Teeth nipping at one another hungerly. Hips bumping and grinding, passions just overboiling.

- Practically throwing you down onto the couch. He quickly removes his clothes before working on yours. Yanking them leggings and panties clean off, taring…taring your lucky team shirt. “What the-”

- “It’s fine, I’ll buy you a new one.” Tossing it aside like it was nothing, he lines himself up. Rubbing it up and down your wet slit, coating his fat head thoroughly. “Besides, you’d look better in blue and white anyway.”

- Plunging into your needy cunt, you two don’t waste a single minute. Your hips start rocking, his rolling back and forth. Massive cock stretching you; pulling out and thrusting so deep…you can’t help but whine each time he bottoms out.

- Hayden’s thick neck strains deliciously, slamming and hitting that lovely spot of yours repeatedly. Stealing your breath, making your whole body tense up. The dam inside you is about to break from all that pent up energy. “Gonna… Fuck…”

- “Yeah?” He grunts; pounding ruthlessly, tongue running across your collarbone. “Me too.”

- Biting harshly, you’re both sent spiraling. Gummy walls clenching around and clamping down on him. Dick twitching and filling you up with his hot cum. Moaning and groaning together.

- Taking a moment, the two of you try to catch your breath. Panting, grinning at each other like some love drunk fools. “See, told you I’d give you a real good one.”

- You bust out laughing, smacking him softly. “Shut up, Mountie Boy.” Before pulling him in for another ‘spicy’ kiss.

*Post Postgame*

- You don’t know how, but not only are you able to stand…you can also walk the next morning.

- So there you are, hovering over the stove. Busily making your new boyfriend’s 'mutually agreed upon' victory breakfast, wearing his very oversized Leafs shirt.

- Hay comes up behind, sporting only his extremely cheesy Leafs boxers. Pressing against you, one hand rests on your hip and the other snakes under your shirt…giving your breast a good squeeze. “I was right; you do look better in blue and white.”

- Shivering at his touch, a wicked grin spreads across your face. “Mmh, I don’t know…think you’d look better in mine…just saying.”

- You got a hard pinch for that…worth it.

Tag List: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @wifeofasith, @princessswifie, @kenobiskywalker16, @loverforoldermen

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hwan-g · 1 year

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LAVENDER GIRL 🔮 hwang hyunjin.

pair. successor! hyunjin x fem! reader | genre. friends with benefits, soulmates, multiple partners, angst, smut | warnings. profanity, alcohol consumption, smoking, anger issues, manipulation, pet names, dirty talk, unprotected intercourse, threesome, oral sex, underage drinking, flawed characters | word count. 6.9k | prequel to put me in a movie but can be read as standalone.

synopsis. before bang chan, there’d been hyunjin. deranged, tatted up, borderline alcoholic hwang hyunjin, and his obsession with you. your angel doll, always and forever.

You weren’t always together.

But even before, you think, there was this conjointness; a neediness of sorts, a darkness you found in each other and recognized it for what it was early on, plucked it from its roots and held it in your hands, smiling secretly, giddily, eyes locked, barely fifteen years of age.

It started with sneaking whiskey from the wide selection of his dad’s cupboard and into Hyunjin’s room. Smoking cigarettes in the dead of winter, windows open, huddled together, warmth in the closeness of your bodies. Thin strips of iridescent paper that melted on your tongues, glitter on both your cheeks at a party neither of you should be allowed anywhere near. And then, finally, the exploring of hands, legs tangled under fuzzy blankets in your bed during a sleepover, lines that curved and bent, cavernous places with adult names—all giggles for you. Nothing serious, nothing to fret about, even as your mother finds you cuddling the next morning, and threatens to call Hyunjin’s father.

There is that one thing that makes your friend go cold all over, makes him drop you from his lean arms at once, and gather his clothes silently, leaving your makeshift fort, no word, no goodbye. Every single time. The mention of his family. Rich, self-made millionaires with their private schools, and the habit of treating their son like a chess piece in their grand scheme for unlimited power. They take him from you just before the first year of high school starts, a school among mountains, isolated from everyone.

From you. His enabler. His matchstick.

“Tell me your deepest, darkest secret, lavender girl,” the night before he was sent off.

His hair is long, and black. His eyes eternally sad, his limbs growing taller, stealthier. Your partner in crime, your best, most valuable friend—gone. You hug him tighter. He won’t let go of you until he absolutely has to, until the first rays of sun rise in the sky, the train reaching the station, everyone looking for him, the successor, the investment, despite knowing where he’ll be. Where he’ll always return to.

“I’ll wait for you,” you say, but different words burn in your throat. Words you’ll never say, even years later.

And Hyunjin smiles, because he knows. Because he won’t say them, either. “You won’t.”

“I will,” you insist, burying your face deeper in his embrace. “I’ll never be separated from you, not really.”

He looks down at you, already forming into something else, already changing, preparing for the blow, the death. He truly will go, and it won’t seem to settle in you, it just can’t. Not when he’s staring at you like that, not when his lips are so close, the one line you haven’t crossed. An ongoing joke between the two of you, though there’s nothing funny about it. Nothing funny about the fire in his chest, the way it burns everything in him. Even then.

“And when I call, you’ll come,” he asks, but it’s a statement, and the light swimming in his eyes is overwhelming, it’s tearing at you.

The only boy that ever mattered.

“When you call, I’ll come,” you repeat, and his hands reach for your cheeks, like he’ll do it, like he’ll finally break the spell, lift the curse, and you lean into him, waiting, hoping, but then he just—

Pulls away, gets up. He never truly has the chance again.

“You wanna know mine?” he whispers in your ear in front of the car that will take him away until you recognize not one part of him. “You haunt me in ways I cannot haunt you.” A kiss on your forehead, a lingering hand on your waist.

He never writes. But he does, eventually, call.

The boy in the picture is not Hyunjin. Not at first.

He stands tall, so much taller than when he left you, and his gaze is closed off, serious. The medium length hair has been replaced with a choppy ash blonde cut, short in the front, longer in the back. An inked design is creeping up his neck from under his white button down, something you can’t decipher. But it’s the way he stands among the rest of the boys, the sheer weight of his name so evident now, where once it was nothing but a faraway nightmare. It loops through him and hangs over everyone, it’s so clear in their stance. It hurts to witness the distance they keep from him; afraid, intimidated. Envious.

His mother pulls the picture away from your view, as she clears her throat and changes the subject upon noticing your gloomy expression. “His graduation picture,” she said, but all you see is a death sentence waiting to be executed.

Your angel doll, nowhere to be found. And you, a changed girl, not quite the same without him. Wilder, untamed. Three boyfriends in, countless fuckups and an almost disownment. You wouldn’t need any of them if Hyunjin would just come back, you kept telling yourself. You were never sure why.

“Why ‘lavender girl’?” you’d wondered once, seemingly centuries ago.

The sharpness of him shocked you everytime, the bluntness of his truth, the easiness in which he carried himself. The fluidity of a dancer, the intensity of the dance.

“Because you’re devoted to me.”

You’d scoffed, pretended offense. “You sound sure of it.”

Those slits for eyes were clear, certain as they bore into yours. “Give me a reason not to be.”

You never did. He was right, of course. He’s been there since you were born, but the realization didn’t hit until the early years of adolescence, and once the burning starts, it won’t end until there’s nothing left for it. Fire is fire. In the same way, you will always be pulled towards him, as a wave, as a shore. A constant, a current—it’s all the same in what you are. Yet, it’d been three years and he hadn’t called once. You didn’t think you could forgive that. (Even after all that time, younger ‘you’ makes you laugh, shake your head in pure amusement. You couldn’t yet understand what it meant holding up a mirror and seeing yourself stare back. You didn’t have the ability to not feel like the only person in the room, and in the same way not notice your own shadow trailing behind you. It was Hyunjin, that was all those things. An extension of, a reflection.)

(It wouldn’t be until college that it’d finally click. And those would be Dionysian years; years that would stretch over your mid twenties and then finally into your first real relationships.)

The day is barely turning into night when the phone rings. A lapse in time difference, and your mother makes sure he knows that. You strip her of the receiver and press it into your ear, listening to his steady breathing over the line. It feels like you’re holding your own breath, bracing for impact, letting the outer change of him infect the inner workings of his heart.

Truth was, nothing had changed. Not when it concerns you.

“My lavender girl.”

“Angel doll,” you exhale, breaking into an inevitable toothy grin. “I’m mad at you!”

You can almost picture him smirking, those eyes twinkling. “I’m sure you are, darling.”

“When are you coming home?”

“Soon, you impatient girl. I heard you got into your first choice. Congratulations.”

You can’t help the proud swell of your chest. Hyunjin was, after all, an excellent student throughout the school years. An example you couldn’t help follow after.

“I heard you’re into tattoos now,” you retort cheekily.

“You can say that,” a ghost of a smile in his words.

And you really can’t stop what comes after. Because you’ve waited too long to say it, because it’s haunted your dreams for months, only to be confirmed through a fucking photograph. Your oldest friend, your only friend. You turn away from your mother, a sign for privacy, of secrets.

“You’ve been hurting, haven’t you?” Barely a whisper.

It’s in his silence. The way it blankets over everything.

“Tell me your deepest, darkest secret, angel doll. I worry about you,” like all those times before.

“My own words against me,” and he chuckles, and it’s miserable, and you can hear the sound of a lighter, of an inhale. “When I call, you’ll come.”

“Of course.” In a heartbeat. Your promise.

“This is the only way I can have you, (Y/N). Please worry about me. I miss you.”

He hangs up before he can hear your reply. It hovers in the middle of the call, through the cable, to wherever he is. You stand there until your mom calls for you, and even as you move it moves with you. Always the joke, always the thing left unsaid. You carry it like gold in your pocket, to be used later.

There’s more ink than you expected.

It covers parts of his forearms, behind his ear, half of his neck, and you pull him in your room for an extensive search, unbutton his shirt as he stands still, quiet, and watches you undress him—it’s on his ribs, over his heart, you turn him around, shoulder blades, his nape. Your fingers go over the intricate lines, the absence of shadows; tree branches connect from the neck over his shoulder to his back, withering flowers hanging limply off them. On his arms, thorns dig into skin, wrapping around it like shackles, like handcuffs. But the one on his chest, that one makes it hard for you to breathe, makes you drop your hands, bite into your lip to keep from crying.

Because it’s so different, so delicate amidst the bleeding and chaos on the rest of his body. A cut of lavender positioned vertically on the left side of his chest, the only design in color, the greens and purples pastel enough to miss them. You notice, because it matters.

This is a declaration, loud and clear, and not just to you. (That will always be the hardest part.) This is for everyone that will ever see him like this, for everyone that will ask, but likely won’t get a straight answer. The question sets aflame your shaking eyes.

Hyunjin remains still, his full lips glossy with spit, jaw clenched, the only thing betraying him, what he’s feeling. To get him alone in your childhood room, the memories and the same wall colors as so many years ago—he never thought he’d be there again. With you.

You.

His head falls on your shoulder, almost in a sigh. You hold him, half naked as he is, as you made him, and you listen to his heart, the beat of it, so similar to yours. How to handle a separation—there was no such thing. It all falls back in place, as it was. He’ll be with you from now on, a shadow returning to its owner.

“What have you done,” you mumble.

“Let me,” he mutters on your skin. “Let me pretend.”

“This won’t just wash off, angel doll,” and it’s sad, it is, “Your heart.”

It’s then that he breaks the illusion. Where his lips brush over yours, and his hands guide you to the familiar mattress. Only a mere lifting of your dress, a tug on the dainty piece of fabric. You hold your breath, and look at the door. Hyunjin cups your chin and forces your eyes on him. When he enters you, you question every silly rule you put between you; every fucking missed chance, every second spent together hauled up in closets, hiding from anyone that dared to break you apart.

“Your heart,” he tells you, and you’re one. One.

He fucks you with a hand over your mouth, a murder with no weapon, hunched over you like the back of a knife, harmless in its end, and you don’t fight it, not like the other times. There are no giggles now, no laughing—he’s taking something from you, something that belongs to him, has belonged to him, and he makes sure you know. Hyunjin won’t kiss your lips, he never does, but he kisses your eyelids, your hair, your neck. All the places he’s dreamt of while being away.

When he comes inside your cunt, it’s a belongingness as well. Close enough to slip a part of him in between your cracks, but never his. Always the distinct line of otherness, of trying to hold water.

“The haunted,” he cradles you as you finally let everything out.

After this, you’ll always be together, never apart. Never. Never never never—

(Until Bang Chan. Until Lee Felix.)

“The hunter,” you finish, smiling through your tears.

He smiles back, tasting every single one. Your old Hyunjin wrapped in the new, the layers beautiful in their unfolding. You’re the only person that will ever know the whole truth about him.

“So, onto university now, is it, sweetheart?” He holds out his hand.

You intertwine your fingers in his, nodding.

“Never leave me.”

“Would not survive it a second time, angel.”

Still, no mention of the siren going off in your chests. The words cutting your throats open like a sword.

It’s there that the thing between you announces a game. A challenge, an open invitation to whomever was strong enough to try and get one or the other. An impossible task for Angel Doll and his Lavender Girl.

Everyone on campus thought you a couple already. It wasn’t until rumors started spreading about you ‘cheating’ on Hyunjin, and then him ‘cheating’ back, over and over and over, that people understood the nature of the relationship. Open, yes, but also—nonexistent. There had been no discussion of wavering feelings or breaking it off, simply because that was unimaginable. Whatever the case was, at night the two of you always slept in the same bed, naked after hours of diving into each other.

A concept hard to wrap around one’s mind. And yet your partners never seemed to care until it was too late. Until it had to become this whole entire situation that needed resolving, and more often than not—Hyunjin had to beat some poor boy’s ass for disrespecting not only you, but what you two had. Being called a slut just couldn’t seem to get past him. And he loved starting some shit.

You never mentioned his habits again, and everyone else seemed to treat it as a personality trait, a quirk that made him stand out, that made him the undeniable ‘king of beer pong.’ To you, it was a parasite that was eating him alive. Ever the overachiever, he never let the effects show, the withdrawals rock. Four years of it, and not one person ever saw it for what it was.

It was boyfriend number four that had it the worst.

“It’s pathetic,” Hyunjin would snarl in your face, half naked, a storm gathering in the corners of your dorm room. “He’s so serious about you!”

You would be proud. You would cry, and you’d get offended easily. Only because it mattered—what he thought about any part of your life mattered. You loved him the most. You loved him the best.

“And that’s a bad thing?” He’d wipe your tears away, and look at you with a broken expression, lavender stem over his heart. Always. “For once, someone actually wants to show me off, and it’s a bad thing?”

Pisces Sun eyes melted at your tone. He didn’t mean it like that. He never meant to hurt you, to make you feel less than. You were everything to him—and it was exactly that, that kept him green green green; jealousy was growing over the thorns on his arms, seeping through his skin, infecting his organs, his bloodstream—

He couldn’t have you for real. He never would. In the same way, he wanted no one else for you. His lavender girl belonged in a field, to be looked at, to be admired, yes, fuck—but never to be touched. Anything but that. What he’s trying to say… you have his heart. He can’t possibly ever lose you.

“What do you need their attention for?” He asks in a boy voice. Defeated. Childish in his adult body, with the long limbs and the long fingers and all the ways you make him feel. “You don’t need them, baby. You have me,” and when he pulls you to him, was there ever really a fight to begin with? “You have me.”

All of him. He lets you know, let’s you feel it, as he lays you down on the full bed you’ve shared since your first semester, the exception to the rule, because he’s a ‘Hwang’, and he gets whatever he wants, no matter the way, no matter what. It’s a strange thing to witness him abusing this newfound power, when he was once so against it, so different from it.

But he merely taught himself how to manipulate it, without letting it affect his character. An admirable thing for such a popular person, the students of the school his father funds would say. And he chose you, the girls would whisper. Why?

As he licks between your legs, those intense eyes looking up at your face, leftover glitter on his cheeks from the third Halloween party this week, you think you can answer now. You’re twin flames. A single soul split in half, mirroring each other. You cannot escape, as much as you can’t stay together. There will be a point where you’ll meet someone else. Where he will too. And it will be life changing, brain rewiring—it will be necessary. But the connection, it’ll never get lost.

Not as long as you’re both alive.

“Tell me you’re mine,” as his fingers bury themselves in your wet cunt, as he watches your back arch for him. “God, I can’t hold enough of you, my pretty girl. I can’t have enough of you, sweetheart.”

“Let me…let me lose myself in you again.”

And he does. Every time his cock enters you, there’s a completeness you can’t find anywhere else, not even with your own blood family. He’s made of something entirely yours, a part of you in another, and you don’t have arms long enough to wrap all around, to swallow him into you, your angel doll, your heart.

Yet, rules are rules. He never owns your mouth, only your breath. Hyunjin moans as he bottoms out, as he starts fucking into you the way he only can, his grunts filling your lungs, paralyzing your brain. He wants to, there’s tears in his gingerbread eyes, he wants to, he fucking wants to, Jesus; he wishes and dreams and begs and pleads and prays for your lips, for one kiss, for the holiest touch—but he’s turned away every time. Lines that even he cannot cross.

But others can. Others have free access to you so easily, so inattentively, those greedy guys and their dirty hands all over his lavender girl, all over his girl, and it doesn’t feel so much as a game now, it’s a full fledged out war, and he’s carrying a double edged sword, he knows, because he, too, gives himself away to meaningless people and one night stands, so in a way he’s covered in sin, covered in slime, and does not deserve you, not one bit of you.

But that doesn’t matter either. Because it’s not about deserving. It’s about the cross he carries on his back, the pain in his chest, the thorns that dig, the branches that poke and tug, the wilting of his entire self without you. Those years away shaped a tough exterior out of what he previously was, out of what you’d made, and the big hole where you should be only grew bigger. Hyunjin placed you on top of his heart, because it’s the one thing that just has to keep fucking beating in order to come back to you every single time.

A war. With himself.

As if you heard him, your palm presses on the tattoo, eyes glazed, fucked out, and all thoughts turn into static noise. Nothing is real yet everything comes into focus with you. He curses the day when he’s going to have to share you. The asshole that took you out three fucking times certainly is not gonna be the one. He’ll make sure of it.

“You must let me find you,” he whispers in your hair, emptying himself inside of you, shuddering. “Every time. Do you hear me?”

“He’s staying,” you mumble stubbornly in his arms, but your sweat is his sweat, and there’s no room for a third person in this. Not yet.

“He won’t,” he soothes you. “He’s not the one for you, sweetheart.”

“You don’t know that.”

A ghost of a smile. His lips pressed against the side of your head.

“I’m sure of it. I know what you need, lavender girl. Air, sunlight. Water.”

Your fist comes into contact with his collarbone. Hyunjin laughs, a breathy thing. You laugh too.

“Just another flower in your stupid garden,” you joke, but it’s not funny.

He stills, expression solemn. His fingers pass over your eyes, closing them in the process, and you inhale sharply. He brings his face close to your lips once again, pretending, always pretending that he’s going to do it, but all he really does—

“The only flower. My most precious one. My heart tree.”

My body is nothing but an extension of yours. I painted it as I see you. Use it as you like. Kill me if you must. It was all for you, anyway.

In simple words— I love you.

Hyunjin was born for the arts.

It was a suppressed talent, but one he indulged in when he could nevertheless. He followed you to the university of your choice, humored himself into a major he’ll never actually have a real future in, and raised a big middle finger to the private school in England and his last name.

He liked painting, but dancing—it flowed through him, moved him, it was a possessive thing. He loved dancing, is what he’s trying to say, perhaps in a similar way to how he loved you—inevitably, all consumingly.

He adored it even more when you danced with him. When he danced for you. Your body on his, swinging to the rhythm of whatever song would be playing at the parties you frequented, reminiscent of the way he fucks you, of how you fit together. There was one song in particular that became a tradition for the two of you.

Maneater by Nelly Furtado. Sophomore year, Halloween Day. You helped him put on blue eyeshadow, and you had an outrageously orange colored dress on, cosplaying as a famous rockstar couple from the seventies. His hair was longer again, the faded blonde appearing almost dark silver under certain lighting. Hyunjin always looked ethereal, but that day? All the glitter and flare spoke of magic, witchcraft beyond your usual pointy hat and swish and flick of a wand.

Somehow, somewhere, Hwang Hyunjin had been conjured up. And you were the lucky one that got to witness him in all his glory and charm, both as before and after. Prior to the two of you walking through the doors of what would be another season of unhinged fraternity parties, he held you close, semi naked chest touching yours, silk shirt feeling cool against your cleavage, and he threw you a dashing smile, the happiest he’s ever looked.

The drunkest he’s ever been.

“Marry me.”

You blinked. Then giggled, attempting to push him away so you could enter the house. His arms wrapped tighter around you, smile widening, pearly white teeth showing. There’s no way he’s serious, but despite the light tone, his eyes are dead set on you, and you very much don’t feel like giggling anymore.

Boyfriend number four didn’t make it, but potential boyfriend number five was in there, waiting for you to show up. This was no time for declarations of marriage. Panic bubbled in your throat.

“You’re—you’re not serious,” you stutter, dumbfounded.

“He’s not the one either,” he says, and his full pink lips look so inviting, so soft the more you stare at them. “Baby, you’re so beautiful, but so fucking desperate for love. You’re my girl, aren’t you?”

You wonder what would happen if you broke the rule. What fate would await you knowing how he tasted. You’d probably say yes, completely drunk on him. You’d probably throw away your entire life and follow him anywhere.

No.

“Say you don’t belong with me.”

You push him away for real this time. He stumbles back, but his smile never drops. He expected this reaction, can read you like the back of his hand. And the proposal—an intangible thing. Angel Doll and Lavender Girl. The magic would fall apart like Cinderella’s pumpkin carriage. You simply cannot afford to lose him if it doesn’t go well, if one of the two fucks up unfathomably bad.

Having no title leaves room for mistakes. You can fight about it, then fuck, and it’s forgotten by the second orgasm. But a relationship? Marriage at that? You’d kill each other, you’d die.

No.

“You can’t,” he continues, and he’s shining so bright it’s hard for you to stay mad. To push away and stay away.

You feel like crying, you feel like doing something very stupid—like go in that house and fuck that poor boy’s brains out. Obviously. Pointedly. Hyunjin would get jealous, drink some more, work himself into a sour mood, then fuck off to bury himself in the first person he sees. That’s how it usually went when he cornered you like that.

He regretted it immensely. He ran away. As did you.

Then he searched you out, and brought you home. Showed you why. Called himself your victim. You think you’re as much a victim as he is.

“You’re drunk,” you say, nearing him. “Give me until graduation.”

He shook his head, tugging at the ends of his soft hair, chuckling maniacally, like a crazy man. He was as panicked as you were; you were not supposed to know about this—his wants, his truths. His love. You’d become so good at the dance; the twirling, the hand over hand over hand, that the spilling was incomprehensible, the consequences incalculable.

“You’ll have found him by then,” he explains, and finally meets your gaze, a sad smile quivering on his plump lips. “I‘ll become an afterthought, a background character.”

“You won’t, you can’t!” You take his face in your hands, smudging birthday cake glitter everywhere, and you see stars. Galaxies, nebula’s. Your angel doll is not a man suddenly, but instead an entire universe. And you’re able to hold something like that. It’s never going to make any sense. “You’re imprinted on me, Hyun. Wherever I go, you follow. I’ll let you, okay? Stop crying, I’m not lying, I promise, are you listening?”

But he’s lost in his thoughts and fears, and nightmares again. You must look silly standing right outside a costume party, fighting to cling onto each other for dear life.

“I will too,” he mutters, nose running, sparkly tears. “I’ll fucking—I’ll find someone else, but they won’t be you, and I won’t know how to be with them, and it’s all fucked, darling, isn’t it, it’s—

“Marry me before that happens, angel. I’ve no idea how to be without you. Please.” His eyes are wide.

You stare at him and he stares at you, and you’re both saying the same thing without saying it at all, and that’s an answer all on its own.

“That’s not us,” you remind him softly. “I’m not leaving you behind, angel doll. You’re coming with me. Till death.”

And he’s terrified. He’s scared, and he’s been drinking for two days straight, has smoked more cigarettes than he can count or remember, all for it to come down to the same old conclusion. Unable to be together, but inseparable. (It will sting less later, but for now it’s an open heart surgery wound the size of two of your fists.)

He hugs you until you can’t breathe, and then pulls you into the house, where he delivers you to your plaything for the month, and heads for the kitchen to find the one thing that can numb it all away. If he sees the way you hold onto that beast of a guy, Ivy League scholarship, football star in the making, he holds back. It’s futile anyway. He has no way of stopping it.

Instead, he goes on a little hunt of his own. He likes to call this revenge, but really it’s punishment.

For him.

He eases you into your first threesome during spring break.

The guy is familiar to you, you’ve seen him around, but can’t really think of a name, or a major. Maybe from a party? It doesn’t register until much later that he’s Hyunjin’s fucktoy from freshman year, and for some reason you can barely stand, it makes you sick to your stomach—

Because this kickstarts the beginning of the end. He’s showing you how it’s going to be from now on.

“She likes it rough,” he informs the black-haired boy standing between your legs. Then he leans into his neck, and whispers, “Like me.”

He doesn’t mention how you only learned to take it that way, because it was the way he taught you. And you loved it—the flesh-eating need to have someone disassemble you and put it all back together, to have someone’s cock (his cock, it’ll always be his first) (until Bang Chan) buried so deep in your pussy you feel him all the way in your stomach. The feeling is indescribable, every.single. time.

“You’re okay with this?” The cute guy asks you, but you’ve never taken your eyes off Hyunjin. He hasn’t either.

“Yes.”

“I’m Felix, beautiful,” he tells you, dropping to his knees and hooking his arms around the backs of your knees, sliding you close to his face. “I’ve heard all about you.”

He found them first. Your hand shoots out for your angel doll, and he grabs it without thinking. He’s there, as promised, guiding you through your first orgasm with someone that’ll end up being the love of his life. He’s shaking, and he’s caressing your hair like he’s going through unbearable agony. Perhaps he is, as you cry out and moan another man’s name for his ears to hear.

“Shove another finger in her, see how she cums for you.”

And you do. Again and again and again…

By the time Felix is done with you, Hyunjin is unzipping his jeans and getting on top of you, his mouth leaving butterfly kisses from your neck down to your breast, to your navel, on your swollen clit. You don’t dare open your eyes; you hold his hand tight, and fall into the feeling of his weight, of his hips, of his length pushing past your folds.

“Fuck,” he grunts, and it’s the sexiest sound you’ll ever hear. “You’re just for me, sweetheart. It’s always going to feel this fucking good with you.”

You don’t see it, but Felix gets behind Hyunjin and slips right into him. Your doll collapses against your collarbone, muttering, moaning, baby… fuck, let me die here, let me die between the two of you…

His thrusts find a rhythm, as your voices all blend together, strings of filthy words bringing you closer to your release. You’ve never watched Hyunjin get fucked before, he’s usually so dominant with you, but you think you prefer him this way more. Surrendered, half mad, leaking inside you, his beautiful face twisted with pleasure and pain—a painting of pure ecstasy.

Felix grabs your boy by the neck and twists his head so he can kiss him flat on the mouth. Something stirs inside you, but it’s not jealousy. They look so in tune, move so well together that it’s hard to hate them. It feels like the point over the horizon where the sun and the moon meet—there’s a certain flowing between them and it runs like water, parts like the Red Sea.

“I think your girl wants a kiss,” the black-haired boy pants as he catches you looking. He slows his thrusts, takes his time with the two of you.

“We don’t kiss,” you and Hyunjin reply at the same time, and then giggle, eyes bright.

It all soon turns into deep mutters and moaning again, and you come the moment he hits something inside you, reaching so incredibly deep he has you seeing black spots, has you shaking. You hold him close as he reaches his release, a couple minutes after you, and Felix winks at you, kisses your angel doll’s back and gets off so you can stretch.

The three of you lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, made up of nothing but breaths and sweat. You can smell the sex in the air, feel Hyunjin’s fingers play with the stickiness between your legs. You rub your thighs together, wanting his touch on you again. Always, perhaps.

“You’ve never kissed?” Felix asks, but he’s not being nosy. He seems genuinely interested in the fact.

“Never,” you reply, and Hyunjin intertwines your hands on the cotton sheets. “Are you planning on sticking around?”

A moment passes. Then, “Yes.”

Your mouth curves. “Then you’ll find out why.”

Hyunjin laughs, brings your hands up to his lips and kisses the back of yours. “This is my lavender girl, Lix. You’re gonna love her.”

Your little arrangement continues until well into your third year. Hyunjin had cut back on the alcohol but was smoking like a chimney in winter. Felix did a lot of good, brought a lot of light anywhere he stood, to everything he touched.

And you liked him quite a bit. He kept your favorite boy occupied and silenced the voices in his head, something no one except you could do. They were clearly in love, clearly enamored with each other. Nothing mattered outside your little circle, and it felt the same way for you, as well. Until Hyunjin came to your room crying one night in December, with a bloody nose and a broken heart, locking the door hurriedly, begging to let him inside you.

You closed your book, jumped out of your shared bed, and ran to him. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

“He slept with someone else, he doesn’t understand, darling, he doesn’t get us…” he muttered on your cheek miserably, resting against you, arms clinging onto you.

You rubbed soothing circles on his back, let his tears calm down to a soft sniffling before you questioned him. You’d learned long ago to be gentle with him when he’d get like this; your angel doll did not handle life well, rejection even worse.

“Is it exclusive?” you ask softly. “What you two have… did he know?”

When he ignores the question, you know it isn’t. But Hyunjin is hurt, stubborn and possessive and he will never share, not unless he approves first. It doesn’t work for everyone, but it works for him and he’s never cared. With you it’s out of the question. The unfairness is lost to you, but you’re certain that it should feel wrong, that he should probably let you go, too.

“Why would he do that to me? I love him.”

You’re jealous then. Ever since you snuck booze in your room and painted purple eyeshadow on each other’s lids, you’ve never uttered the three words once, not even as a joke, as a whisper, as a mouthed forbidden curse—but Felix gets to have it just.like.that? Spilled out like a murder scene between you? Your killer is pressing kisses on your collarbone, tears mixed with saliva, and you feel him all over you, all the times you’ve let him imprint what he cannot say, his seed still inside you from the last time you fucked, his sweet voice calling you ‘pretty darling,’ ‘beautiful lavender girl,’ all of it, does it even matter now?

He can love another, but could never tell you, his open field, his summer breeze, love betrayed, recycled—

Your hands stop him, push on his chest, your own stomach turning. Your eyes can’t possibly meet his. Hyunjin breaks apart in front of you, but you don’t think you can save him from himself this time. Not tonight.

“If I don’t say this now, I will be killing my own heart, angel doll…” you whisper, and there’s a ball of something in your throat, it’s choking you, it’s crushing your skull. “Have you ever loved me—”

It’s within a split second that he smacks his hand on top of your mouth and presses his own on top of it. His arm is digging on your lower back, and you can feel his erection against your thigh, hard through his baggy jeans, always hard for you, and needy, so needy, so ready, and how can you be so stupid, so silly? He is not himself when he’s not with you. He only hopes you feel the same way.

He kisses you like that as if he were kissing your lips, and your wet cheeks touch his, your voice breaks trying to whisper his name, his own hushes you, brings you closer. The one thing you swore you’d never do.

“Are you leaving me? Is that what this is?” you ask, desperately trying to catch your breath, hear over the rushing of your blood.

Hyunjin laughs, fully removes his hand from your jaw, instead rubbing your cheeks, caressing your hair, pulling at the ends, looking at you with the gingerbread eyes, the honey eyes, the ones you can’t resist, don’t ever try to.

“Silly girl,” he scolds you fondly, his mouth curving, the red lips sore, and he appears much like the moon to you now. “I apologize. What would ever become of me if I didn’t have you? If I never met you?”

When he truly smiles, through the tears, through the pain, you can’t help but to smile back. The game is back on, the walls rebuilt themselves, but it’s not quite pretending. Not anymore.

“You’d be miserable without me, angel doll,” you pout, giggling as he tickles your sides, sparkling as he throws you on the bed and has his way with you.

“I’d be miserable,” he confirms, kissing down your breast. “I’d be dead. But you understand why I have to love him, don’t you?”

Your eyes meet. “He’s the sun,” barely audible.

His hands fumble, the sound of a zipper, his cold hands lifting your dress. “He’ll look over my lavender field,” his pulsing cock pushing against your entrance, “my sweet girl.”

Hyunjin fucks you like he’s going to lose you, slow, hips grinding into you like he’s trying to leave a piece of himself inside you, where you can never find it, never remove it. He looks beautiful in all the ways he isn’t saying it, in all the ways he means it. Your arms wrap around him, and you fall, deeper, further, for all eternity.

As promised.

It’s in your senior year that you understand why you had to wait.

Bang Chan is older, he’s a film graduate, he’s Felix’s best friend from Australia. His accent is thick, his hair is curly, and his hands are surprisingly rough.

He takes you against the dormitory building at four in the morning, after drinks and a round of bowling. And it’s different, it’s intense—somehow you know exactly what to do, he moves just as you like it, you never bump, it’s overwhelming, it’s fucking amazing. He’s the best kisser you’ve ever had, his mouth tasted like mint and his cologne smelled of tobacco and vanilla, a mix you’ve never seen on anyone else, and somehow he’s just for you, this man with the irresistible smile and sculpted face.

You trace his eyebrows, kiss his jaw. He never shudders, like your angel doll, but instead—he grunts, he growls. You come on his dick three times on your first date, and he brings you over to his place every night after that, for a month straight. Hyunjin distances himself, lets you explore the new world, lets you get to know, but you always see him in your room when you tiptoe around a space you’ve called home for four years, like a thief.

He pretends to be asleep as you grab clothes; sees you choose which panties Chan would like best, what perfume would drive him crazy, if you should do velvet or silk—he gets jealous, but never angry. He chose this man for you, saw how he folds when you look at him, how he’d crumble into dust if you ever broke it off.

They made an agreement, the two. They’d share you as long as they were both allowed to love you. Hyunjin never said it, of course. But only a fool would miss it—

The way he burns and is reborn every time you blink, the stem over his heart, his only calling.

One rare day the Aussie is off working on his many projects, you take Hyunjin’s hand and together you sit under the big oak tree, in the middle of campus, you with your book, him with his sketchbooks and pencils.

“Tell me your deepest, darkest secret, lavender girl,” he mumbles against your exposed belly, and you giggle.

You can see the branches through his thin white tank top. Your heart. “I love him, angel doll,” you say, confidently.

His eyes are the moon again, his lips cherry blossom. His hair is getting longer.

Like sunlight, Felix morphs behind him, waving, beaming down.

tags. @ughbehavior, @cb97percent, @streetlight-s, @j-0ne25, @danyxthirstae01, @lix-ables, @skz317cb97, @koorminii, @choinsaw.

#hyunjin scenarios #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #hyunjin smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids hyunjin #skz hyunjin #kpop scenarios #kpop smut #hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin imagines #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #hyunjin x reader #—mine.

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