#wattpad role playing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gukkie01 · 1 year

Text

Pair: Racer! Jungkook x Police officer! Fem reader

Rating/Genre: 18+, smut (little to no plot), humour (I tried but failed again 😐)

Words count: 5 649

Warning: explicit content, oral sex (F receiving), semi-public sex (I guess??), penetrative sex, vaginal sex, jungkook is a very very hot racer, fingering, car sex, sassy Y/n, dirty talking, unprotected sex (pls don’t be dumb like them)

Summary: Y/n was starting to get bored of being a police officer. She needed the thrill. Thank god, Jeon Jungkook was there to help her.

Note: very much liked writing this one. It was inspired by a book I read on wattpad (that I forgot the name of :/) but I switched the roles and decided Y/n was going to be the police officer 👍. Hope you guys enjoy this one! Sorry for any typos :(

💞 quick little reminder that comments and likes are appreciated 🥹. Enjoy! 💞

Can’t Catch Me

Being a police officer was not your dream anymore. For the solemn reasons that it was boring as hell. Nothing like in the movies. There weren’t any arresting criminals and interfering in mafia cartels and saving the day.

No. It was sorting documents and sometimes, if you were lucky enough, arresting cars. But where was the thrill in that? The excitement?

Sitting down behind a desk clearly wasn’t saving anyone or helping in that case. It was just making phone calls, watching some people here and then to make sure they didn’t leave. You never had to interrogate anyone. You didn’t even have your opportunity at playing the mean cop!

Because there was no doubt that you would’ve been the mean cop. You let no one step over you or cross any boundaries.

So yeah, being a cop or police officer if you would, was not thrilling at all. It was a shitty job that paid just enough so you could survive the month. Just enough. In the end, you always had to ask yourself if it was even worth it. And most of the time, your answer ended up being no, not at all.

Your superior was not even—

Speaking of, you suddenly received a phone call from him. Picking up, you cleared your throat, trying to sound as professional and calm and cool as possible. “Y/n,” he said and shifted a little. “I need you in my office. Now.” He ended the call, not giving the slightest bit of details.

But you were used to that. Didn’t make it less annoying though.

With an exasperated sigh that earned a few amused glares from your coworkers, you got up and made your way to your boss’s office down a little hall. Three knocks and a barely audible ‘come in’ later, you were sitting down in front of him, Mr. Kang or Monkey Face as you liked to call him.

“Yes sir?” You asked, quirking an eyebrow and shifting to the edge of your chair. Were you in trouble? You couldn’t see how that was possible. How could sitting all day bring you in trouble?

Monkey Face, without once letting his eyes divert from his laptop, clicked his tongue. “I’m assigning you to a new route,” was all he said, typing away on his laptop and munching on his gum a little too loudly for your taste.

“What? Where?” The idea of finally leaving this hell of a place brought interest into your features as you wiggled more on the edge of your chair. It was embarrassing really. It wasn’t like you were arresting criminals but at least, you were going to be outside, arresting cars.

Give or take. And you decided to take.

“Route 30. You can go now.”

So, apparently, route 30 ended up being more of a stretch of highway rather than an actual route. By the time the moon set, you saw two cars, and they were exasperatedly slow. But there was no one else behind so you let it pass.

You were sitting inside your car, radio playing but you paid it no mind. It was just nice having some background noises that stopped you from falling asleep although let’s just say it wasn’t doing its job right.

When you glanced outside, the sky was pitch black; no stars, no moon. It was like someone purposely painted it black. It made the outside much darker and duller.

You sighed and decided to exit your car. Take some fresh air. You stood outside, kicking rocks with your boots and after some time, you even started playing soccer against yourself.

But you quickly got bored once again.

It turned out that being assigned to patrol a road was worse than you thought. Sitting in your car, switching the radio multiple times until you’d get so frustrated you would just shut it.

At one point, you got so bored you were on the verge of tears. Which was pathetic but true.

You started singing off-tune to a song that you vaguely remembered, singing as loud as you could before that too would become boring.

And that was when the universe heard your wishes.

Your ears perked up at the ramble of an engine, far in the distance but no doubt getting nearer pretty fast. Too fast. With your heart thumping almost loudly, you buckled your seatbelt and waited until the roaring got closer and closer and you finally saw it.

It flew past you so quickly it was like it was never there in the first place. You flicked on your lights as well as your sirens and started the car, following as closely as you could.

It was hard. Whatever car it was surely surpassed your own speed. And if it didn’t slow down any time soon, you’d lose sight of them eventually.

They made a turn to the left so quickly that you almost couldn’t follow. Your car had been on the verge of driving off the road. You weren’t really on the highway anymore but more on a small route hidden by immense trees.

You were breathless and nervous but driving that fast was the biggest thrill of your entire life and it was so liberating.

Finally, the car decelerated soon after, swerving into the side and parking swiftly. With how fast it had initially been going, you were impressed with how smooth it parked. Whoever it was behind the steering wheel, they were clearly experienced.

Slowly, all the while trying not to make a fool of yourself, you pulled up behind the bright neon blue car. You stepped out and approached the vehicul, taking in deep breaths. Be cool, be cool.

You knocked on the window three times before it slid down and goddamn it—

Your heart literally stopped beating for a fraction of a second when your gaze met a pair of doe eyes. Your own trailed lower until it stopped at a particular shiny object on the driver’s face. A lip piercing.

For a moment, you completely forgot what you were here for, too dazed by the same piercing being bitten and played with. You shook your head, regaining your composure. Or more like tried to.

Question number one.

“Do you know how fast you were driving?” You asked, trying to muster the scariest voice you could. His pierced eyebrow raised up and he smiled innocently. He had this little bunny smile that made you giddy despite trying to calm yourself down.

“I’m sorry officer, I wasn’t paying attention.” He was amused. It was clear in the way his eyes twinkled and the mocking tone of his so fucking deep voice. You gulped a lump in your throat, trying with all your might not to look at any of his piercings and maintain your professionalism.

Question number two.

“License and registration?” You managed to ask without stuttering and the driver reached into the glove box compartment and handed you his papers.

You glanced down at them, letting your eyes trail along the information.

Jeon Jungkook. Born September 1st, 1997. He was a year older than you. His hair in the picture of his license was shorter and lighter. More like a soft brown whereas now, it was almost black. You didn’t know why you were even paying attention to that. You didn’t deign a look at his registration papers and gave them back to him.

He arched an eyebrow, clearly finding the whole situation amusing and to his advantage. He must have known just how much he had an effect on you right now.

Your inner thoughts consisted of:

I’m gonna get fired

But he’s so hot, I don’t care

I wish he could take me right here, right now

I am so getting fired.

Jungkook’s smooth husky voice quickly pulled you out of your thoughts. It was kind of funny how your heart dropped at how deep and soft his voice sounded. There was this little witty and sarcastic tone behind it.

“Aren’t you supposed to use these?” He asked, wiggling his license and registration in his hands. It was then that your eyes caught the tattoos hiding every inch of his skin. It was covering a big part of his hands and went up under his sleeve and you found yourself wanting to see more. You needed to see his entire full sleeve tattoo.

You cleared your throat, the air around you thickening by the seconds. You wondered if you were the only one feeling it. The tension. The want. The desire. Maybe it was only your brain playing tricks on you. Telling you that Jungkook’s eyes definitely trailed down your body, mentally undressing you.

Yeah, your mind was clearly playing tricks. Maybe it was his little grin tugging at the corner of his lips or his sweet cologne that made your brain alter like that. Surely, he had done something to you.

After a couple of seconds, you realized you still hadn’t answered him. You straightened up, flattening your hand on the top of his car, glancing down at him with what you hoped was your most serious glare. “I’ll let you off with a warning, Jungkook.” It was a little strange saying his name out loud, but you quickly found out that you liked it. A lot.

“But I better not see you here again or it’s a ticket,” you continued and saw his smile widening.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Ok, your mind was definitely going a little crazy. You had just seen Jungkook sending a little wink your way. You probably imagined it. Yeah, it was all your brain.

He gave a little nod and started his engine once again. It roared loud and hoarsely and you had to admit that it was nice to the ears. You took a step back and watched as Jungkook drove away, ignoring your words from mere moments ago and going fast.

You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth.

You had told Jungkook to never come back here but deep inside, you wished to see him again.

A week later, the job didn’t get better. If possible, it probably got worse. You hadn’t arrested one single car yet and all you did was sleep in your car. You knew that if your boss found out, he’d surely fire you and it would be over. He was paying you to work, not sleep. That would be his words.

You sighed for the millionth time this afternoon, whistling along the song playing on the radio. The sun wasn’t bright today. Your mood was down.

The radio was on as per usual and you could hear some of your coworkers communicating with each other, wishing you could do the same. You had nothing to say, nothing to warn. Today was pretty boring.

But then again, someone seemed to have heard you and a loud roar could be heard at the far end of the highway. Your heart thumped loudly and you felt your chest vibrate. Finally. You felt a smile curve up your lips as you turned your car on just as a vehicle flashed before your eyes.

You quickly drove away from behind the small bushes you were once parked at and started your pursuit. But it was quickly over. The car parked on the side road after a short while and you did the same a couple of meters behind. You stood outside your car, looking around quickly before jogging and knocking against the tinted window.

“Do you know how— Jesus! You?”

Fucking hell. Of course it was him. Jeon Jungkook. You should have known by the unique rambling of his motor and at the speed he went earlier. You should have known since the start. This job was seriously making you lose some brain cells.

Jungkook grinned. It was a little devilish and teasing and smug. He leaned on the inside of his door, looking up at you. Fuck. He had dimples.

“Hi to you too, officer…” his eyes trailed down to your badge, “Y/n.” The way your name rolled off his tongue so well made you shiver. His voice had gone an octave lower. It had that little rasp to it that almost made you drool. You secretly wished you could hear it right to your ears.

Just the thought of it gave you goosebumps.

“Jungkook, it’s the second time I catch you exceeding the speed limit. I have no other choice but to give you a ticket this time.”

You didn’t really want to. If you could, you’d let him off with another warning that would actually never get anywhere. He was too pretty to have a ticket. Too fucking perfect.

Jungkook’s wicked grin didn’t falter once even after your words. If it made sense, it seemed to only get wider. Was he finding this entire situation funny? It made your blood slightly boil. You felt like you were getting laughed at. Humiliated maybe. But there was also this little feeling, this tightness at the pit of your stomach when Jungkook got closer.

His cologne hit your strong and gosh, you wanted to breathe it forever. Bath in it. It smelled so good on him.

“Is there a way I could pay? I don’t have money right now.” His tone was suggestive and it took you a while before you got the proper meaning behind his words. And to say that you were shook was an understatement. You choked on nothing, face flushed and so warm, it was embarrassing.

Jungkook didn’t miss the way you suddenly avoided even looking at him, focusing on his steering wheel instead. You heard a low chuckle that shouldn’t have sounded this good. It shouldn’t have made your knees slightly fold.

Jungkook was an attractive man. You couldn’t deny it and it was pretty hard to miss. It was also hard not to stare at his piercings, at his pink lips that looked so soft or at the tattoos that were much more visible than last time. They peeked from his white top and reached the middle of his neck. They were simply magnificent. You wanted to let your fingers run along each of his tattoos.

But even with his fucking god-like appearance, you had to stop yourself from even thinking of further things about him. It was not professional to let your brain wander at these places.

So, in other words, you were a little too close to taking his offer.

“Don’t worry, you’ll have a week to pay, so if you don’t have the money on you right now, it’s no worries.” You replied, mentally high-fiving yourself for keeping your cool.

Jungkook shifted closer, and the tip of his index grazed your arm. It was covered with your uniform but it still sent a wave of fire through your entire body. “But I would really like to pay now. I have something better than money.”

Shit.

Fuck.

No, no no.

He shouldn’t have said that. You were on the verge of saying ‘yes’. On the verge of letting him take you right here, in the middle of the highway. His words were very powerful and from the way his eyebrow arched, he knew it.

“Do you know what you’re implying right now, Jeon?”

Something in his eyes twinkled when you said his last name. He smirked. Literally smirked. “I know that very well, officer. So, what do you say?”

Oh my god.

You couldn’t say yes, even with how much your heart—or more like your cunt— begged for you to accept his offer. But that would only bring you trouble. You didn’t need that.

“I say we’re going straight to the station, Jungkook. Come out.” His smug expression dropped for a moment, and you saw how disappointed he was. Maybe he thought that his sexiness and his pretty voice and pretty tattoos and piercings would have saved him, and it almost did. But you had to remember that you were the mean cop.

He sighed and opened his door, standing up in front of you.

You breath hitched when you realized how easily he was towering over you. He looked so intimidating from this angle, you almost dropped to your knees. It was then that you realized he was wearing a white top that was so tight you saw the entire shape of his pecs. He had a racer vest on top—blue with black lines and his name written on the back.

He looked at you for a second, toying with his lip piercing before eventually turning around and putting his hands behind his back.

“You know officer, it seemed like you were ready to take my offer. What made you change your mind?” So cocky. His ego was so big and normally it would piss you off, but with Jungkook, it was almost like a part of his charm.

“Stop talking,” you ordered in your most stern voice although it only made him chuckle. You unclipped the handcuffs from your uniform, ready to wrap them around his wrists.

“So bossy. I like it.” You swallowed on nothing over and over again, losing focus. The more he talked, the more you were overthinking. You wanted to push him in his car and let him fuck you.

“Jungkook, I said stop talking.”

“You like having control, hm? I bet you’d love to control me, even for just a few minutes…” And then, well, you kind of snapped.

You handcuffed his wrists together harshly, your fast movements making him take a sharp breath. You turned him around, slightly pinning him to his car door. “I told you to stop talking. You’re only bringing yourself further into trouble,” your voice was simply a mere whisper directed to his face. Jungkook bit his lips, bowing his upper body to reach your level.

“One thing you should know: I love trouble,” he said and his voice was suave and smooth and warm on the side of your face. His knee touched your crotch and he pushed it between your legs. You sucked in a long breath and let out a muffled moan.

Well shit. You were doomed. Because now, you couldn’t stop thinking about how his knee felt so good pressed against your pussy and how much his cock would be even better.

“Seems like you’re enjoying yourself,” he commented, looking down at your lower half grinding on his knees. He pushed it up more and added some pressure to your core. You were wet. Wetter than you’d been in a while and all because of a little asshole named Jungkook. He had his proud face on, enjoying the way your face darkened in a deep shade of pink and the way you obviously shook. He knew you wanted to go further.

“Remove those handcuffs, sweetie.” He said suddenly and his face was dark, serious and so dominant. You really couldn’t say no to that face.

So you nodded, taking out a key from your front pocket, fumbling with it clumsily until the handcuffs were off and Jungkook’s hands found their way on your waist.

He didn’t wrap his arms around you. He simply let you feel his hands for a while, getting used to the burning feeling they left even on top of your entire uniform. It tickled as if he touched you straight through your clothes, right on your skin. Thinking about it, you were dying for some skin to skin contact. To touch his tattoos while he was pleasing you.

Jungkook’s eyes were staring straight into yours. You knew right then that he had been thinking about that moment for a while now and to say that it turned you on was an understatement.

You cleared your throat, trying to keep eye contact without failing but it was hard. His stare was deep and intense and the way he continually licked his lips made it difficult to keep your eyes up there. They looked so soft.

You briefly wondered how they tasted before Jungkook’s voice interrupted your train of thoughts.

“Are you gonna stare at them longer before you finally kiss me?” You hated how his voice made your inside wiggle and giddy and your heartbeat accelerate.

You hesitated, on the tip of your toes. You were so nervous. And Jungkook seemed to catch in, as with a wide grin, he plunged down, lips crashing against your, and teeth colliding. His cold lip piercing touched the corner of your lips and made you gasp.

He snorted into the kiss, this time, wrapping his arms entirely around your waist and exchanging your positions. You were the one pinned on his car. And quite honestly, you liked this position way more.

“I’ve been waiting to do that since the moment you knocked on my window.” His sudden confession stole the air out of you. Just like you, he had been waiting to touch you and feel you up.

Fucking butterflies. You hated how they swam in your stomach and made it difficult to keep up with the kissing without feeling like you would pass out. Jungkook was a good kisser. Scratch that, he was fucking amazing. He moved his lips with expertise against yours.

You guys weren’t really taking your time but you still enjoyed it very much. They way it was heated and impatient and filled with want made it all the more exciting.

You wanted him so bad.

“Let’s take this further in the car, hm?” He mumbled against your lips, struggling to open the car in the position you were both in, but after a while, you were swiftly thrown in the back seat.

Jungkook hovered over you like a scary predator ready to attack and eat its prey. And you were very glad to be his prey.

His right hand lifted up and stopped at your cheek, letting his thumb rub over the softness of your skin. He was in literal awe as he let his eyes trail around every feature of your face. “You’re so fucking beautiful. Can’t wait to ruin you.”

If it wasn’t hot enough, it became too much. You were sweating, desperate to get out of your clothes and let the AC of the car wrap around you. And even more desperate to get Jungkook to fuck you.

Jungkook’s rough hands explored every inch of your upper body until he got tired of your clothes. He sat you up and as fast as he could, succeeded in removing the top of your uniform. His eyes twinkled as if he was a kid that just received his favorite toy for his birthday.

You let him touch you everywhere, he squeezed and massaged your breast until you were whimpering. He pinched your nipples, earning multiple cries from you. He seemed to love every second of it, considering the smile—worth probably a million of dollars—plastered on his face.

He didn’t linger on your breasts too much, though. You could see in the way his fingers always found themselves at the waistband of your pants, that he was more excited about what was down there.

He looked up at you, stopping his hands that were ready to slip off the last item of clothing (except your panties) covering your body.

“Can I remove them?” He asked and it warmed your heart that he remembered to ask you before going any further. You gave him a shy nod and kept in your breath when the cold air hit your lower body, more specifically, your inner thighs.

Jungkook’s hands covered your skin almost immediately. His nails slightly scratched your skin as he ran his fingers up and down your entire legs. But his eyes were stuck on the wet patch on your panties.

“Aren’t you a little excited, huh? Soaked even when I barely even started.”

You moaned. It was a small moan that was more due to your embarrassment and your need for him to touch you, combined together.

It was music to Jungkook’s ears.

He let his finger push on your clothed core, breathing in loudly when he felt the dampness. And then he slipped his fingers in your panties without any second thoughts or any warning.

He settled on rubbing his middle finger on your clit, looking up every now and then at the way your face contorted in pleasure. You were moaning continuously, asking him for more but he wouldn’t give it.

Jungkook loved teasing you and even though you barely knew him at all, that information was pretty obvious from the way he enjoyed slipping in snarky little remarks from the first moment you saw him. He loved how your face became red instantly, how you avoided his eyes. He felt so confident around you.

You liked the tease. You liked feeling on edge every time his fingers almost entered your pussy but then he’d move them away.

“Be patient, babe. You’ll get what you want soon enough.”

Babe. You wanted to hear him say that again on repeat.

“Jungkook,” you mumbled with closed eyes, internally screaming when he avoided your hole again, “I need more. Please.”

He chuckled, stopping the motion of his fingers. “Look at you begging for me. I should have known you’d be an impatient little slut.”

You whined at his choice of words. Dirty talking never failed in turning you on, although it was clear that it depended from who.

And it seemed to fit Jungkook very well.

“Please,” you asked again, not even caring how pathetic you sounded.

“Aw, you’re asking so nicely.” He slipped one finger in and you involuntarily arched your back. “So good for me, so tight too.” Another finger. “Are you gonna come from just my fingers?” A third digit, this time, curling inside.

The stretch hurted a bit. But it was good. It felt so amazing. It only added onto the pleasure and after a while, it wasn’t even uncomfortable anymore.

Jungkook’s eyes were plastered on your pussy and the way you swallowed his fingers so well. You were so wet, it dripped down your inner thighs. He kept biting and licking his lips, moving his head down by the seconds.

And then you understood what he wanted to do so bad. He wanted to eat you out.

“Do it,” you told him, wiggling and pushing yourself closer to him, his fingers hitting a particular spot that had a little yelp come out of you.

“What?” He furrowed his eyebrows, slowing down his fingers. You straightened up a little bit and took his wrist, pulling his three digits out of you. “I know what you wanna do. Eat me out. Please.”

He swallowed and nodded, pushing you further in the back seat and against the door. He properly positioned himself between your legs, tapping on your right thigh. “Open up,” he signaled, pulling them even more apart until you were wide open in front of him.

He licked his lips and plunged his head right in your crotch. Locks of his hair fell on your thighs, tickling you and making shivers run up your entire body. And then his tongue touched you. So warm. So soft. So pleasurable.

He licked the lips at first before slipping his tongue inside, grunting. He had mumbled something but with his face between your legs, the words came out muffled and unclear.

“Fuck, it’s so fucking good. Please don’t stop.” He dug his fingers in your thighs to keep them apart. He thrusted his tongue in and out of your cunt, sometimes, keeping it in deep, filling up all the right places, grazing all the right spots until you were wiggling, and legs wrapping around his face, bucking your head up.

He let you do it. Let you suffocate his face until your juice rolled down his mouth and he pulled himself away. White liquid covered his lips and something in your belly tightened at the sight.

It was so obscene but so hot. You pulled him by his vest to smash your lips on his and taste yourself. He slipped off his vest in the process, tearing down his top and struggling out of his black baggy pants, his boots already off.

He was left in those Calvin Klein sinful briefs that allowed you to see is bulge and fuck, he was big. Perfect length and thickness and that had you drooling literally. You wanted to touch every inch of his body. He was perfectly sculpted.

“I’m gonna fill you up so good, babe. Can’t wait to fuck you into oblivion.” He whispered in your ear and let you remove his boxers until his cock sprung free and stood proudly.

You were astonished and couldn’t tear your eyes away. You were never one to find dicks beautiful, but with Jungkook, you could stare at it and a suck it all day.

But not right now. There were more important matters. Like your desperation to have his cock fuck you.

“Jungkook, I need it inside. Please.”

Jungkook couldn’t get enough of your begging. He wanted to go as far as recording it and jerking himself off at night.

He aligned himself right in front of your entrance and looked up at you. “Are you okay? I really want to fuck the shit out of you but if you changed your mind—“

You cut him off with your finger, grinning at him. “I’ve never wanted something more in my entire life. So please, do it already.” Jungkook’s face brightened up at your response. He liked how you had shut him up and ordered him.

You pushed yourself against his cock just as he began slipping it in slowly, groaning and snuggling his face in the crook of your neck, biting right under your jaw.

“Oh my fucking god, I won’t last long,” he mumbled, sucking in multiple sharp breaths. One of his hands was holding himself beside your head and the other was wrapped around you, securing you in his grasp.

When Jungkook was fully in, he stayed still for a couple of seconds, enjoying the way your walls were so warm and perfectly wrapped around his cock. But then, he slowly slipped out until the head of his dick was at your rim and slammed back in. “Oh fuck—”. You bucked your hips up, meeting his thrust and letting out a scraped moan along with Jungkook’s groan.

“If I knew it was this good,” you started but cut yourself off when he picked up his pace, squeezing your flesh, “I would’ve accepted your offer from the beginning.”

He chuckled, looking down attentively as his cock disappeared in and out of your pussy, being soaked with your slick. It was warm and it drove Jungkook crazy. He wanted to stay inside forever.

“Well, I wanted to fuck you the moment I laid my eyes on you,” he admitted and slowed down his thrusts.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion until Jungkook flipped you over and you were straddling him. From this position, everything felt so different. He felt so much deeper, as if you could feel him with your hands if you touched your belly.

He gripped your hips tightly to the point when it almost hurted and glanced up at you. “Ride me like the naughty little slut you are, hm?” His voice was so hoarse compared to earlier, and so much more seductive and his sinful words rolled off his tongue in a way you found so satisfying.

You nodded and wrapped your hands around his neck. As you bounced up and down, your breasts followed the rhythm and they were practically jumping in Jungkook’s face, basically calling out to him to suck on them.

Which he ended up doing, letting go of your hips and licking, biting and squeezing the sensitive skin of your chest. He marked your entire cleavage until he was happy at how dark and red it looked.

Your pussy clenched around his cock, earning a strangle moan out of you two and then a moan from Jungkook when you clenched again.

“Is my little slut already so close?”

“Y-yes. It’s so good, I can’t hold it in much longer.” His hands grasped your waist and slid you down his cock until it was buried so deep, you couldn’t find the voice in you to make a sound. He was fucking you so well.

“You’re taking my cock like a good girl. I think you deserve to come.” He mumbled, moving his head closer to yours and nibbling on your bottom lip.

“Please, Jungkook. I want to come so bad. Please please.”

“Fuck, begging like that, I don’t think I can last longer too.”

His words made you keep going, bouncing on his length over and over again to the point where you reached some overstimulation, shaking violently in his arms.

Your voice was loud and the only word that was heard was Jungkook Jungkook Jungkook.

Your cum ran down his length, to his thighs and made his skin glisten in white. Your head was dizzy and your eyes hazed as you glanced down at Jungkook. Your stomach kept tightening every time he moved his hips upward.

He came no longer after, slamming you down his cock and keeping you there for a long moment, moaning how good you were and how hot you looked.

You leaned on his chest after a moment, catching your breath although it proved to be a difficult task. Your lungs felt empty, devoid of any air. But it was fine because you had just been fucked by Jeon Jungkook. And it was the best sex of your life.

After Jungkook regained his composure, he wrapped his arms around you and looked up. One of your hands was running along his tattoos and the other was busy, combed in his sticky hair. Jungkook was a fucking piece of art.

“So,” he started, pushing a few locks of hair away from your face, “Do I still need to pay for that ticket?”

“Heck yeah.”

2K notes · View notes

heywriters · 3 months

Text

I'm definitely going to downsize the account with the intent of eventually deleting it—Pinterest has been a thorn in my side for years. However, I do have some big collections of quotes, creative ideas, character face claims, and other things there that I feel are useful.

First collections to go will be the external links & resources since many are dead or weren't good to begin with. I will keep those up until end of this poll (week) for anyone who wants to fave them.

Collections on the immediate chopping block are linked below!

Also, in part, I would like to remove as much art from my inactive accounts as possible. I know I can't stop Big AI from scraping Pinterest, but I can at least not leave a ton of unprotected (and often uncredited) stuff out in the open. It's simply a sentimental thing at this point.

Save whatever you want and support the artists if you can!

#writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr #last chance #pinterest #poll #writing links #writer resources #writing poll #writing resources #writing inspiration

264 notes · View notes

ventismacchiato · 2 years

Text

🎭 just playing the part !

a social media au | scaramouche x gender neutral reader

synopsis — you and scaramouche are both drama majors and have been at each other’s throats vying for the same lead roles since high school. but when you’re both cast as each other’s love interest in your second year you’re forced to be civil with your academic rival and see him in a new light. are his feelings for you true or is he just playing the part?

genre — modern college au, enemies/rivals to lovers, slowburn, fluff, crack, angst if you squint

sideships xiao x aether, childe x kaeya, kazuha x heizou, hu tao x lumine, venti x albedo

status — completed ✔️

warnings! time stamps don’t matter, unsupportive parents, mentions of alcohol and weed, various ships

↳ playlist | wattpad version

ACTION!

the cast:

↳ y/n’s gang | scara’s “friends”

ACT ONE — new year same me cus i’m perfect !

01. the announcement

02. on the edge of my seat

03. beat me to it

04. the amigos

05. an unexpected companion

06. a one night stand

07. red flag

08. auditions

09. anticipation

10. monopoly ruins friendships

ACT TWO — the show must go on !

11. i won but at what cost

12. just admit you’re a virgin

13. i’m kinkshaming you

14. he’s a ten but he has mommy issues

15. grape lookin ass

16. enemies with benefits

17. will you be my bf? (totally not clickbait!)

18. wikihow perfect first kisses

19. with the taste of your lips i’m on a ride

20. bereal? id rather bedead / 20.5 confirm or delete

ACT THREE — break a leg !

21. is this what friends do?

22. twenty-one questions

23. walk him like a dog

24. free therapy

25. suffer in silence

26. kiss cam

27. falling for ya, literally

28. me and who? me and you

29. emails i cant send

30. mom i’d like to fuck

31. opening night

32. curbside confessions

33. loyalty tests

34. under the mistletoe

35. humiliation kink

bonus — pillow talk 🔞

36. best dick ever

37. karma is my boyfriend

ACT FOUR — curtain call !

38. making it big

39. the it couple

40. after party; epilogue

CUT!

#genshin fluff #genshin imagines #genshin impact #genshin impact au #genshin au #genshin impact smau #scaramouche smau #scaramouche x gender neutral reader #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #college smau #kunikuzushi #just playing the part smau

4K notes · View notes

derrydeer · 1 year

Text

my screenplay is just a hannibal oc i roleplayed with when i was 16

#hannibal #role play #wattpad was my turf back then #wattpad #original character #hannigram child my beloved #screenplay #screenwriter #writing

6 notes · View notes

unseededtoast · 8 months

Text

We'll Be Alright | Spencer Reid x F! Reader

Summary: In which you discover that the line between love and hate is quite fine. Your actions are done out of love, but they only make you hate yourself more and more. Inspired by "Fine Line" by Harry Styles

Cross posted on Wattpad and AO3 and here is my masterlist!

WC: 9.1k

Warnings: Angst, a lot of angst, pining, mention of Ed Gein, mention of blood, use of guns, that sorta thing

a/n: Back at it again with another Spencer Reid oneshot. I hope you all like it, I think this is one of my favorites so far.

"I could live with you hating me, but I couldn't live in a world without you."

With a smile on your face you listen to Spencer ramble on about how he put the pieces together to find the unsub while you two ride to the scene together. He speaks with such passion and you don't think you'll ever get tired of listening to him, his mind is a brilliant thing and you make sure to remind him every chance you get. You can tell that sometimes when he gets fired up about something he starts becoming insecure, fearing that the others will make some snide comment or dismiss his thoughts. But not you, you listen intently every time, hanging onto every word.

Spencer has played a very vital role in developing you into the analyst you are today. Where the others were satisfied with letting you learn on your own, and showing you pointers here and there, Spencer took the time to explain nuanced ideas to you. He showed genuine interest and care, and you gave him your undivided attention. This dynamic created a tight bond with the two of you, allowing you to work together seamlessly and at times, it's like you read each other's thoughts.

"I knew you could do it." You tell him as you pull onto the scene. He utters a thanks as the two of you get out of the car and join the rest of the team.

The unsub is nearby and the team is just waiting for him to show up; Garcia had been able to track his phone and his movement aligned with the area you and Spencer had narrowed down as the next area of interest. Hotch, Morgan, and Emily give you both a nod of acknowledgement and the five of you begin scouting out the area to look for any signs of the unsub, he should be here by now.

This particular unsub sent a chill down your spine, and not much gets to you anymore. His modus operandi was always to kill his victims, skin them, and use their flesh for various purposes. It's like he was trying to be Gein's prodigy, except he never dug up a grave, he preferred to kill them all himself. The team had found his workshop early in the investigation, but the unsub was nowhere to be found, until now. Seeing household objects made of flesh isn't going to soon leave your memory, you're sure of it.

"There he is!" Morgan yells and points to a man crossing the street with a paper bag in his hand. Everyone takes off in a sprint towards him and you pull your firearm from the holster strapped to your thigh. The unsub takes off, trying to evade you all.

Emily and Hotch split up from the rest of the team to try and cut him off up ahead, leaving you, Spencer, and Morgan trailing him. The little man is fast, you'll give him that much. Eventually, he ducks down an alleyway, unaware it's a dead end, and turns back to look at you all with wide, stunned eyes. You see the panic in his eyes and as Morgan shouts instructions at him, you see him reach inside of his jacket.

The unsub pulls a gun of his own and aims it right at Spencer. Your heartbeat echoes in your ears. Spencer puts his hands up in surrender while you and Morgan keep your sights trained on him.

"Put the guns down or I'll shoot him, I swear I'll do it, just like the others!" The unsub declares while switching the safety off of his gun. Your hands begin to shake with adrenaline, but you don't put your gun down. Faintly, you can hear Morgan informing Hotch and Emily of the situation via radio but it's like you have tunnel vision on the man in front of you.

"Do it now!" He screams erratically and you see his finger dance on the trigger, just about to pull it.

An internal battle wages itself inside your mind, trying to quickly assess the pros and cons of listening to the man. Just as you go to lower your gun, you see the man grin sickeningly at Spencer with an evil glint shining in his eye; you've seen that look before. Without thinking, you turn and knock Spencer out of the way just as you hear the shot go off. Spencer slams into the brick wall beside him, chest heaving with panicked breaths. Behind you, you can hear Morgan yelling something but his voice sounds miles away.

All you feel is a blinding, white-hot pain.

Blinking rapidly, you look down and see that your shirt is quickly becoming stained a deep scarlet red. Your heart is pumping at an alarming pace, you can feel your pulse in your neck. The red stain keeps growing but your mind can't comprehend what's going on. Large hands obscure the stain from your view, and you finally look up to see Spencer's hazel eyes, wide and afraid.

He gently brings your body to the ground, leaning you against the brick wall you had shoved him into. His hands apply pressure to the wound, sending a shockwave of pain through your entire body. It feels like you can't catch your breath, you fight for oxygen every few seconds and even that makes your body feel like you've just been set ablaze. The edges of your vision start going black, and you can't really see anything clearly anymore. Your mind is a jumble of incoherent thoughts that just sounds like static.

"Hey, hey look at me. Come on now. Stay with me. Please." You feel a tap on your cheek and your blurry vision can make out Spencer's form, his fingers coated in red. A wave of nausea and pain racks through your system, and you try to reach out for Spencer, but your arms are just too heavy, and words take too much effort. It's easier to just close your eyes.

-----

A constant beeping sound stirs you awake. You don't even remember falling asleep. Trying to open your eyes feels like an impossible task, like they've been bonded shut with super glue. Your throat feels like a desert, and you start to panic, not remembering where you are. Mental images of the unsub's flesh creations flash through your mind and you start panicking, thinking that somehow he got you.

The panic is enough to make your eyes open, and you're greeted with bright lights. Flinching, you squint your eyes and look around. This isn't the unsub's workshop, no, this looks like a hospital. Your eyes travel down your body, seeing lines embedded in your arms, a plastic piece clamped over your finger, and a large white bandage wrapped around your stomach. As if on cue, your stomach starts to burn like hot coals had just been placed there. An image of Spencer's hand covered in bright red flashes behind your eyelids.

A nurse walks through the doors and smiles when she catches your eye. She comes to your bedside and sets down an IV bag full of clear liquid.

"Glad to see you're finally awake. How do you feel?" She asks and you go to answer her, but your throat is too dry, so you just end up coughing. The nurse crosses your room and returns moments later with a plastic cup half full of water. Greedily, you take it from her and drink the water, a lone stream wandering down your chin. Once the cup is empty, you decide to finally answer her.

"Not great." You admit, trying to reposition but unable to do so because of the pain. The nurse nods as she hangs the new IV bag from the metal rack beside your bed.

"I imagine so. I'll give you something to dull the pain." She tells you, resting a gentle hand on your upper arm. Your eyes are glued to her hand and you nod, anticipating the relief of pain medication.

"What exactly happened?" You ask, only able to remember tiny bits and pieces. The image of Spencer's hand refuses to leave your mind but you just can't remember what happened before, or after, that moment. The nurse looks down to the bandage covering your torso.

"An ambulance brought you in last night. You got shot through the abdomen and had to be rushed into surgery. There was sustained damage to your liver and other intestines, but nothing life-threatening. You gave your coworkers quite the scare though, they didn't want to leave but we had to send them home." Her voice is soothing despite the words leaving her mouth, like she was used to delivering this sort of news. Which she probably is. You stare down at the bandage on your stomach, trying to remember anything else, but being unsuccessful.

"So when can I leave?" You ask, knowing that there's an incident report or two waiting for you on your desk. Truthfully, you'd rather do anything but those reports right now, seeing as how you can't even remember a major event, but you know the job doesn't allow for much downtime.

"Probably tomorrow or the next day depending on how well you're doing." She reassures you, and you can live with that. If the team wants the paperwork done that badly, they can bring it to you. Otherwise, you're perfectly content to stay here for a little while. The nurse exits the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

From what you can remember, Spencer was definitely there when you got shot. His hands were covered in your blood, that part you can vividly remember. Your heart sinks as you are able to recall the look in his eyes, how scared he was. You hope he doesn't blame himself for what happened, you know it isn't his fault even if you can't quite remember how it all went down. If the roles were reversed you can't even imagine the wreck you would be; the thought alone makes you sick.

-----

The next day your doctor clears you for discharge, and you call Hotch to come pick you up. You have no family to call to get you or take care of you, Hotch and the team are the closest thing you have. You had almost called Spencer, but decided against it because you're not sure if you're ready to see him just yet. Hotch's car pulls up to the curb and he hops out to help you in the car but you wave him off.

"I got shot I'm not immobile." You try to tease as you grimace, pulling yourself into the passenger seat. Hotch closes the door once you're in and quickly returns to the driver's seat. His hands grip the wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white. He starts the route back to your home without a word, but you can tell something is bothering him.

"What's up?" You break the silence, the curiosity of what he's thinking becoming too much. Hotch glances at you from the corner of his eye before training his eyes back on the road.

"You're off of field duty for the next few months. Technically, you should be on a leave of absence for a while but I know you won't abide by it. But, you have to promise me you won't overwork yourself. You got shot, you need to take care of yourself." His words come out slow and even, which contradicts his body language. There's something else going on, but you know him well enough to know he's not going to tell you.

"No field work, got it." You agree, knowing it's the best deal you're going to get. When another agent was shot on the job about a year ago, they made her stay out of the office for four months. You'd go crazy under those restrictions.

The two of you ride in silence until he pulls up outside of your quaint home. The lights are all off and the mail has gone unchecked. Dark clouds in the sky start emitting light sprinkles, likely to turn into a storm. With a sigh, you look to Hotch, whose eyes are already on you and you smile weakly at him, trying to mask the pain shooting up your spine.

"Thank you, Hotch." You say and open the door despite your body's protests.

"If you need anything, don't hesitate to call." He tells you with a father-like authority. You nod your head, knowing he means it.

"I will." You confirm and close the door. Hotch drives off and you check your overflowing mailbox before heading up the short stone walkway to your home. You're thankful for the stair railings as you have to pull yourself up each step to reach your front door. From what should be a simple, few-second task, it feels like you've run a marathon. The keys fumble around in your hands but you're able to unlock the door after a few attempts.

Your home is unusually dark and cold inside. The mail finds itself scattered across the dining room table and you go around turning on a lamp or two to bring some life back into the space. Clutching the back of your couch, you catch your breath and look down at your torso. With careful hands, you lift your shirt and look at the bandage. Thankfully it doesn't look like the stitches have broken, it's just a lot of pain. The doctor had given you two prescriptions to fill, but you probably won't go pick them up, you can't imagine how painful it would be to drive a car right now; moving your arms and legs, straining your abdomen. It's just not worth it in your mind. And you're surely not going to inconvenience anyone to pick it up for you, they probably couldn't anyways seeing as how one of them is a narcotic.

Instead of doing anything else, you go around and lay down on your couch, propping your head on a throw pillow and pulling the blanket draped over the back overtop of you. Thunder sounds off overhead, and you know the rain will put you to sleep if the pain doesn't do it first.

The plush material of the blanket soothes you somewhat, it definitely feels better than the hospital blankets. Thick raindrops start pelting the window situated on the wall perpendicular to the couch, giving you the perfect view through your sheer curtains. Your eyes droop as you watch the droplets race each other to the bottom but you don't want to sleep, it's pretty much all you've done the past two days.

While your eyes concentrate on the raindrops pelting the window your mind races with all the thoughts you've slept away in the hospital. Since first waking up, you've been able to recall most of what happened, the doctors told you it was a normal thing to experience, but it freaked you out as you just kept remembering what happened. You can hear Spencer's voice begging you to stay awake and you remember shoving him out of the way so he wouldn't be shot.

While the pain of being shot is like nothing you've experienced before, you know you'd do it all over again to save Spencer. And that terrifies you. It's for that reason you haven't contacted him yet, but you see the messages he's left on your phone, asking if you're okay and if he can do anything for you. If it had been him that got shot, and he didn't pull through, you know you'd crumble, you'd absolutely lose yourself. And that shakes you to your core. You knew you and Spencer were close, but you never realized just how deep your love for him runs.

Being shot made you understand that in this line of work it's not smart to form these personal ties, for reasons such as this. If the roles were reversed and he did die, you know you wouldn't be able to continue doing your job. It's been made abundantly obvious to you during your time on the BAU that these deep connections could pose a threat to your safety, and that's never been more clear to you than it is right now. It's precisely the reason you don't answer Spencer at all. You feel guilty, but you know it's better like this in the long run. You can't stomach the thought of him taking a bullet for you, so you have to distance yourself, for his safety.

-----

Five days later you decide to return to the office. You're feeling slightly better, the pain is still strikingly difficult to deal with, but you can't stand another day being cooped up in your house. Plus, you know there's at least one incident report waiting for you.

You leave early to give yourself enough time to get there, and you find out that you were right about driving, it definitely does not feel good. You reach the office later than you usually do, but you don't really care. The team isn't even expecting you for another two days, so there's no punctuality expectation. After you get out of your car and make your way across the parking lot you find that a pit of dread has taken residence in your stomach, right next to the aching pain; and you're nervous to walk through the doors that have become so familiar. But the elevator ride is too short for your comfort and you find yourself staring at those very doors before you're truly prepared.

With one hand lightly resting on your abdomen, you force yourself into the office, where everyone is busy with their daily duties. Maybe you can just slip in here without anyone noticing you. Your steps are drastically slower than normal, and you make it halfway to your desk before you hear someone calling out your name.

"What are you doing here? Thought you weren't supposed to be back until Monday." Morgan asks, tossing a file on top of his keyboard. You clear your throat and try your best to smile.

"Just couldn't stay away I guess." You say and finish the journey to your desk, feeling your legs start going weak. Within the days you've spent at home, you couldn't bring yourself to exert much energy getting food, you mainly just spent time wrapped up in a blanket on your couch. Your body is weaker than it ever has been, from both malnutrition and the gunshot, but nobody needs to know that, then they'd start to hover. You'd much rather just suffer in silence and take care of yourself. Morgan follows you over to your desk and you're hypervigilant to keep up a good appearance.

"We've been worried about you. Nobody's heard from you since Hotch picked you up." He says and you glance over to Hotch's office, seeing the door closed.

"Yeah, sorry about that. I've just been trying to rest and heal up." It's not a total lie, just not the entire truth either. You meet Morgan's eyes as if to seal the deal, and thankfully he doesn't push you further on the matter, he just puts a hand on your shoulder.

"Well it's good to have you back." He says before departing back to his own desk.

You open the cover of the file that's sitting on your desk, seeing blank pages waiting for you to fill them out. Grabbing your favorite pen, you start jotting down your notes of the incident report up until you get to the part where you were shot. The pen hovers over the page for minutes, and you can't seem to find the right words. The opening of Hotch's door distracts you and you see him and Spencer walk out. Spencer's eyes lock with yours immediately and he wastes no time abandoning his conversation with Hotch to come over to you. You knew this time would come, you were just hoping to avoid it for a while longer.

"How are you? Are you okay? You weren't supposed to be back until Monday." A flurry of questions gets thrown at you while Spencer looks you over as if he's expecting to see another bleeding wound on you.

"I'm fine, thanks." You keep your answer short, too short for his liking and you know it. Guilt sits heavily in your heart, but you remind yourself that this is for his benefit and wellbeing. You can deal with a broken heart, you can't deal with Spencer dying and that's why this is necessary. His eyebrows scrunch together, confused about why you're acting so strangely.

"I tried to text you." He says, lowering his voice, eyes tender and full of worry. If only you could reach out to him, to feel his soft skin under your fingertips and tell him about the hell you've been going through. Instead, you lick your lips and nod shortly,

"I saw. I just, I wanted some time alone." You lie straight to his face and watch as he buys it so easily. Disappointment paints itself all over his face, but he nods anyways and shoves his hands into his pockets.

"Right. Sorry, well, um, you know where I'll be." He says in a hushed voice before turning and walking to his own desk. Your eyes clamp themselves shut and your fists clench, leaving crescent-shaped indents in your palms as you take a deep breath and fight away the tears that threaten to spill.

Once you've regained control of yourself, you pick your pen back up and focus on nothing else but getting this report done. You force yourself to write robotically, stating only the concise facts of what happened and not a detail more. You're sure the other agents' reports will make up for yours, you just need to get this done and filed so you can leave. The air in the office space is suffocating.

After what feels like a short eternity, you've finally completed the report and you shut the front cover of the file and push yourself out of your chair, gritting your teeth the entire time.

"Need help?" You hear Morgan's voice behind you, and you're quick to shake your head.

"No, I'm fine, thank you." You say as you stand as straight as you can, grabbing the file off your desk with one hand, the other rests over your wound, which feel unusually warm. Fearing the worst, you make your way to Hotch's office, biting your cheek the entire way there.

When you enter his office he looks at you with uncharacteristically soft eyes. He waits for you to make the first move and you put the folder on his desk, letting out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. He opens the folder and reads over your work before tossing it on top of a pile of other folders.

"What's going on with you?" He asks and stands to shut his door. Hotch closes the blinds on the office windows as well, so that the other agents can't see into the room and you're thankful. Your bottom lip quivers as a sharp hot pain radiates from your wound and you feel your throat constrict. Grasping the back of a chair situated in front of his desk you lean your weight on it to try and alleviate the pain, but it isn't working.

"Let me see." Hotch stands from his desk and stands beside you. Once you feel you can stand on your own you lift the edge of your shirt up, exposing the bandage wrapped around you. From your vantage point you can see the warm red skin peeking out from the bandage.

"That's not good, that looks like it's becoming infected." Hotch's voice is thick with worry and he delicately peels back the bandage to examine the wound and you bite down on your hand to keep from crying out. The air coming into contact with it feels like he just pushed a fire poker right through the stitches.

"We're leaving right now, that's definitely infected." Hotch secures the bandage back and you shake your head.

"I'll be fine, it's just part of the healing process." You try to downplay the situation. In reality, you know that it's not good for your wound to be that red or warm, but if the two of you leave right now the others are going to know something's up. And that will inevitably lead to them hovering over you.

"No, it's not. You're going to come with me or I'll call the squad." Hotch threatens and you see no trace of a lie in his eyes or in his tone. Relenting, you agree to go with him. He leads you out of the office and you keep your head down, compelling yourself to not look at Spencer, who's undoubtedly tracking your every move.

Once you reach the parking lot Hotch begins questioning you. He helps you into his car and you let him, not having the energy to fight him.

"Have you not been taking the medicine prescribed to you? I know they gave you an antibiotic." He scolds, knowing the answer. If you had been taking them, you wouldn't be showing up to the office with an angry gunshot wound.

"Hurt too much to drive and get them." You keep your answer short and he huffs in annoyance, but starts driving somewhere to get you the medical attention you need. Deep down you're thankful Hotch cares this much, he's the closest thing to real family you have.

Last Thanksgiving the team found out that you have no family to spend the holidays with. You had never meant to tell them, but holiday plans came up in conversation and yours were painfully dull and lonely compared to theirs. But Hotch invited you to his family's Thanksgiving dinner. At first, you had declined, not wanting to intrude on his family time away from work, but he wasn't taking no for an answer. Now you're glad that he persisted and you went. His wife, Haley, took you under her wing and everything just fell into place; you're practically their surrogate daughter at this point.

After Hotch makes sure that you get looked at by a doctor, and that you actually have your intended prescriptions, he drops you off at your home and makes you promise that you'll send him a video of you taking your medicine on schedule. Knowing that if you don't, he will most definitely drive over here and count the pills, you agree. And as a punishment for not taking the medicine in the first place, he makes you agree to stay out of the office for another week.

-----

The week passes too quickly for your liking. Each day Spencer had texted you, asking if you're okay, that he's worried about you, and that he misses you. It broke your heart to not reply to him, every fiber of your being yearned to text him back, to let him know that you're okay. The temptation to abandon your decision of distancing yourself from him grew stronger each day. It became so tempting that you forced yourself to let your phone battery die and then you buried it underneath the clothes in your dresser so that it would stay out of sight.

But now, as you stare up at the office building from the parking lot, you know that you won't be able to avoid him today and you know that you're going to have to not give into temptation. Every time you want to slip, you're going to have to remind yourself that this is for his safety. You remember that you can deal with the heartbreak, the possibility of him hating you, but you'll never be able to go on if he dies. So you have to do everything in your power to make sure he will never have a reason to make a decision to take a bullet for you, like you did him.

Eventually, you walk into the office, admittedly in a lot less pain than last time. Who knew that taking your prescribed antibiotics would make your life easier? As soon as your foot crosses the threshold of the door, you feel like everyone's eyes are upon you. Instead of looking around to confirm your suspicions, you make a straight route right to your desk. But, of course that doesn't stop people from coming over.

"Back again. You look better this time." Morgan smiles and slides to sit on the edge of your desk. You smile back at him, feeling refreshed and healthier than last time.

"Feel better too. Any new cases?" You ask, hoping to establish some normalcy back into your routine. Typically, you and Spencer carpool to work together and his missing presence from your morning routine didn't go unmissed. Morgan licks his lips and nods,

"Yeah we just got back from one out in Colorado. I think there's another briefing at ten." He tells you, taking a sip of his coffee. You know you won't be let into the field yet, but you at least want to sit in on the briefing. More than likely you'll be paired with Garcia, and you're fine with that.

Morgan slides off your desk and as he moves you see Spencer staring straight at you. His eyes look bloodshot, there are dark circles under his eyes. He looks like he hasn't had a decent night of sleep for a month and his hair is a mess. His lips fall open as you two make eye contact, but you're quick to look away before you go over to comfort him. The inside of your cheeks burn from how hard you're biting them.

Once ten rolls around the team files into the conference room, and you're careful to stand in the back instead of taking your usual seat. Prentiss gives you an odd look but she doesn't say anything. It's glaringly obvious to everyone that something is off, but you assure them you should stand to help your blood circulation. As Hotch starts going over the next case you feel a familiar pair of eyes lingering on your face, but you stare right at Hotch.

Soon enough, the rest of the team is off to work a local case, and you stay in the office to help Garcia. She pulls up a chair for you to sit on, and the two of you get to work without saying a word. It's weird for there to be a silence so thick between the two of you, you two always work so well together and you love Penelope. As she waits for something to load, she taps a pen on her desk and takes a deep breath.

"What's wrong?" You ask, not being able to take it any longer. The tapping pen stills and she looks over to you with an uncertain look on her face.

"What's wrong with me? Nothing, I'm perfect as a peach." She tries to lie, but you can read her too well. Your eyebrows raise, and you push her further.

"Come on, Pen. I know you better than that. Tell me." You implore and she bites her lower lip, conflicted with herself as if she should say anything or not. But eventually your staring gets to her and she breaks.

"Fine. Fine, but you didn't hear this from me. Spencer thinks that you blame him for getting shot and that's why you've been dodging him." You've never heard such ridiculous words come out of Penelope's mouth, and you've heard her say a lot over the years. Taken aback, your mouth falls open and you blink, trying to come up with something to say.

"No. Of course it's not his fault. I pushed him out of the way, he didn't pull me into the bullet's path." You say, wanting to set the record straight. Your heart aches at the thought of Spencer beating himself up, thinking that you blame him for your own actions. You know you won't tell him this directly, but you're certain Garcia will relay the message. And that will have to be good enough.

"What's going on with you two then?" Her voice is uncharacteristically soft. You know you can't tell her what you're really doing because you know she'll fight you on it and try to dissuade you. So you choose to dodge the question altogether.

"There. The victim's information loaded." You point at her screen and she scowls at you, but turns in her chair and resumes her job anyways. While she does her research you busy yourself with putting pins on a map, trying to figure out where the unsub is going to strike next.

Later, the team returns to the office before going home for the day. You're at your desk, shutting down your computer and making sure your file drawer is locked, and when you grab the jacket off the back of your chair, you see Spencer talking to Morgan at his desk. He catches you out of the corner of his eye, and you brush past the two of them before either one of them can say something to you. Your heart shatters a little with each step, but you remind yourself why you're doing this. If you didn't, you're convinced you would have turned back and never let Spencer go.

-----

Three days later, the case is solved. The unsub basically handed the team a map right to himself and chose not to lawyer up when Hotch questioned him. It's almost like he wanted to be caught. You don't dwell on the thought too much, you're just glad another murderer is off the street. While everyone else cheers about the victory as they fill out their reports, you keep to yourself at your desk. Unlike the last report you filled out, you make sure this one is extensively detailed.

"What does everyone say? Celebration drinks tonight?" You hear Morgan's voice, eager and happy. The man loves to celebrate sometimes. The rest of the team agrees, and you finish your sentence, hoping they keep you out of it. If you stay quiet enough, you're sure they'll forget you're even here.

"Oh did someone say drinks?" Penelope walks into the bullpen to give Hotch something. Morgan fills her in on the details and of course she agrees.

"I'm assuming you're coming too, right?" You hear her voice but choose not to look up, hoping that she's talking to someone else. Unfortunately, she was not talking to someone else, and taps on your shoulder to make you look up. You see Spencer standing in the background with everyone else, but you keep your eyes trained on Penelope like he doesn't even exist.

"Oh, I don't know. I was thinking of calling it an early night." You admit, knowing full well that you had planned to sit on your couch all weekend binging some trashy reality show to distract yourself from your reality. Penelope frowns,

"Come on, you've never turned us down before. It'll be good for you." She says, and you can tell by the tone of her voice that she's not going to take no for an answer.

"Fine, I'll be there." You relent, with a tight smile on your face. She cheers and goes back to talking with Morgan, and you swivel around in your chair to finish the report. While you scribble words, you're already forming your escape plan for the night.

You'll stay for about an hour, after everyone has already had a few and then you'll excuse yourself. If you have to, you'll use your gunshot wound as an excuse; and yeah it's a cheap cop out, but if that's what it takes you'll do it. And then once you're out the doors you're free. It's a simple, yet effective, plan.

Hours later the team huddles around a table in a crowded bar. Usually you're all over celebratory drinks, you use it as an excuse to remind your coworkers of just how brilliant they are. But tonight, while the rest of them are chatting away happily, you sit on the edge, nursing your drink and looking out of the bar's front window. Spencer is seated across the table from you and you keep accidentally meeting his eyes, which makes the alcohol in your system warm your skin even more.

Spencer sure does make it hard for you to ignore him. After all, his puppy-dog eyes practically plead with you, silently begging for you to say something to him. You can see how hard he's being on himself, still probably convinced that you blame him for your wound. Even if Garcia told him otherwise, you know he will have a hard time buying it considering your actions completely contradict what you had said. While the others might not notice how miserable he is, you can tell. He hasn't gone on a random knowledge tangent since you've been back and he's been reusing the same coffee cup without washing it for the past few days.

You hate how hard Spencer makes it to actually dislike him, you hate how he's such a kindhearted person because it makes all of this ten times more difficult. If he had at least one dislikable trait then this would be easier, then you might have a chance of convincing yourself that you can't stand him, that you never liked him to begin with. Though you're not sure you could ever convince yourself of that, truly. As you take your last drink, you come to one reasonable conclusion: You hate that you love him.

Suddenly feeling like the room is closing in on you, you stand from your seat and make your way to the bartender to close your tab out for the night. Maybe you can just sneak out of here and nobody will notice. The bartender hands your card back to you, and you start heading towards the door. But of course a team of FBI agents noticed that you had left, and are now heading towards the door. Morgan is the first one to confront you.

"Going home already? It's not even nine yet!" He teases and you give him your best smile.

"Just starting to hurt a little." You ghost your fingers over your healing wound for extra measure, knowing they won't chastise you about that. It seems you've taken the low road after all.

"Want someone to take you home?" Penelope asks, and you're quick to decline, knowing exactly what kind of plan she has in store.

"No, thanks. That's alright, I don't live far. Have a good night everyone." You smile at Morgan, Penelope, and Prentiss before you leave. As you walk to your car you notice that everytime you turn away and leave Spencer, your heart fragments more and more. But you remember what's at stake, and you pick yourself up, the best you can, and keep moving forward. You know that the pain and turmoil you're feeling now will amount to nothing if something ever happens to Spencer.

-----

Months later your gunshot wound is practically completely healed. There's a scar that's going to be left behind, but you don't mind it. You're one week out from being cleared to go back into the field, and you're undergoing your evaluation now. You thought that you'd be happy and eager to get back out there, but instead you find yourself hesitant and nervous about it. Working with Garcia had made you feel safe and secure. So now, as you sit in Hotch's office, you try to find the words you're looking for. He's staring at you expectantly.

"I just. Hotch I don't know if I can go back out there." Your voice is shaky, and you're afraid this admission will get you dismissed from the team. He leans forward, elbows resting on his desk.

"You're saying you don't want to return to the field?" He tries to clarify. You take in a deep breath,

"I want to return to the field, I just don't know if I want to do it right now. I mean, I still get nightmares about being shot and it feels so real. What I'm trying to say is that I don't know how well I'd react in stressful situations right now." You tell him, hoping that this makes more sense. In a way, you're figuring out what exactly it is you want. His eyes narrow, trying to get a read on you. Hotch writes some words on the paper in front of him and sighs.

"I can give you another month. And I want you to start seeing a therapist." He says and you scoff immediately. Hotch holds his hand up to stop your protests before they even start.

"Listen. I don't know what's going on inside your mind since this all happened. But you haven't been yourself. And you haven't spoken to Spencer once. You two used to be the best of friends. It's none of my business to know, but you need to tell someone about it. Being shot like that is not something that someone gets over easily and without ramifications." He explains, and deep down you know he's right. You just don't want to confide to anyone about your issues.

"Sure." You agree, knowing that he's going to force you to see a therapist one way or another. If you tell him no now, you're sure someone will show up in the office next week to conduct some sort of "random psych evaluation". Hotch dismisses you from his office, and you make your way to the break room for some much needed caffeine.

The coffee in the pot is hot, like it's been freshly brewed. You pick a mug at random and fill it, then you sprinkle in a modest amount of sugar before tasting it. It's warm and comforting, like a hug from the inside. You close your eyes to help yourself destress from what happened in Hotch's office, but when you open them you see Spencer standing in the doorway. His hair is still wildly curly, there are still circles under his eyes from sleep deprivation. Even his clothes are wrinkled now, it looks like he doesn't take the time to iron them out anymore.

You two stare at each other with so much left unsaid, and you make a move to leave the room before you fold under the pressure. Your shoulder brushes his on the way out, and you hear him speak.

"Please. I'm sorry." You hear him plead with you and your steps falter, wanting so badly to just stop and turn around. To hold him close to you and apologize, to tell him you miss him so bad it makes your chest hurt and how life is dull without him. But instead, you take a scalding sip of coffee and keep moving forward like you never heard him. Each day that passes you find yourself hating how deeply you love him more and more, it's almost a constant burn in your veins.

You spend the rest of the day tucked away in Penelope's office, nose buried in a screen, doing the most menial research as if the fate of the world depends on it. Penelope doesn't say anything. She just sighs and helps you with the research.

-----

A few more weeks pass, and fall is now in full swing. There's a crisp chill to the air, the leaves are all turning colors and falling to the ground. And with fall comes your birthday. You have no real plans to celebrate, Hotch had given you your gift in the parking lot before work this morning, knowing that you don't like a lot attention being drawn to you, but it is nice to get a simple "happy birthday" from your friends.

The team packs up for the day, and your heart sinks with disappointment. It seems that nobody but Hotch had remembered your birthday. You convince yourself that this is a stupid reason to get sad, that they all have busy lives to keep up with. Plus, it's not like it's a milestone birthday anyways. Grabbing your jacket, you leave the office for the day with a heavy sadness taking residence in your chest.

When you arrive home, you turn some lamps on and toss your jacket over the back of the couch. You put Hotch's gift on the table, and go to the kitchen to open a bottle of wine. You don't bother pouring it into a glass, straight from the bottle will suffice just fine. Taking the bottle with you, you go to your room and change out of your work clothes. As you rummage through the drawers, you find your phone still sitting in the bottom of one of them.

You had never found the courage to charge it back up, afraid to see what words had been left for you. But tonight, you figure it's about time you confront your own feelings. You plug the phone in and set it on your nightstand, taking another swig of the wine and waiting for it to charge.

After what feels like hours, the phone finally turns back on. And within minutes, the notifications start pouring in. Text after text after text rolls in and the missed calls start to pile up. With another drink, you take your phone in your hand and read over the messages. There are exactly fifty seven messages from Spencer and thirty missed calls.

Your eyes scan the texts he sent you, his words sinking into the fibers of your very being, and you're saddled with an intense sorrow. Tears fall from your cheeks onto the phone's screen and you stop reading, not being able to take it anymore. All of his texts were him apologizing to you, begging you to please talk to him. You listen to the voicemails he left, hearing his voice crack and listening to him sniffle as he pleads for you to please just say something, anything. You can almost visualize him in your mind, wiping his tears as he tells you how sorry he is and how he misses you more than anything. He's begging and apologizing as if he's the one who has done anything wrong here. You hate yourself more than anything for letting him suffer like this.

You leave your phone on your nightstand and grab the wine, returning to your kitchen table, where Hotch's gift sits perfectly wrapped. Taking it in your hands, you unwrap it and look inside the box, heart stilling as you see what's inside. With trembling fingers, you grab the frame and hold it in front of your face. Hotch had given you a framed photo of the team, a picture in which Spencer is holding you tightly against his side, and you're looking up at him with stars in your eyes. The frame slips through your fingers and clatters onto the table.

You support yourself on the back of a chair, and you finally let yourself feel everything you had suppressed over the last few months. Sobs shake your body and the tears fall onto the photo. Your hands clutch the back of the chair until your knuckles turn white, afraid that if you let go you'll collapse to the ground.

A knock at the door catches you off guard and you try to level out your breathing, using the back of your hand to wipe the tears from your cheeks. You aren't expecting anyone, and you almost consider just leaving it be, but your curiosity gets the best of you. Knowing that you probably look deranged and pathetic, you open the door anyways.

Spencer stands in the doorway, a small box in his hands along with a bouquet of your favorite fresh-cut flowers.

Your mouth falls open, and you think your heart might actually jump out of your chest. He looks you over, an obvious concern coming over his face. You should shut the door on him, tell him to go away, but your resolve has crumbled, like dust in the wind.

"Can I come in?" He whispers, and you nod, letting him inside your home, where he's been so many times but now it feels like the first time all over again. Your house is in a state of disarray, and if you hadn't just been sobbing over a photo of him, you might care more. You wipe more tears from your eyes and you clear your throat, not exactly sure what to say or do. But thankfully, he speaks up again.

"Happy birthday." His voice is soft, and he gives you a small smile, but the sadness is evident in his eyes.

"You didn't have to get me anything." You say, looking at the beautiful flowers and carefully wrapped box, topped with a ribbon of your favorite color. He takes a step towards you, and hands you the flowers first. As you take them, your fingers brush his and it feels like the air has been kicked out of your lungs.

"I know, but I wanted to." He says, meeting your eyes. You catch the scent of the flowers, appreciating their freshness and the life they bring to your otherwise sad home. Making your way into your kitchen, you find a vase to put the flowers in and then you set them on the table. Spencer's eye catches the photo, and you know he can see the wetness that still adorns the frame. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to put the pieces together.

"Thank you, Spencer." You say after you position the flowers just right. Willingly, you catch his eye and you know you can never go back to ignoring him after this. He glances from you, to the photo, then back to you before he hands you the box. Lifting the top off, you see a beautiful gold chain inside that has a beautiful gemstone pendant hanging from it.

"I picked the stone because it reminded me of your eyes." He sheepishly admits, and you look up at him through your lashes with the purest and deepest love flowing through you. But through that love, the guilt eats you alive.

"Spencer, this is too much. I've been horrible to you lately, I don't deserve this. And I definitely don't deserve your kindness." You say, looking into his gorgeous, kind eyes. The tension is noticeable between you, and you wish it would melt away and that you two could go back to how things used to be.

"I've missed you so much." Is all he says, voice cracking and you see tears gather in his eyes. Unable to help yourself, you set the necklace on the table and close the gap between the two of you, resting your hand on his cheek. Your bottom lip trembles,

"I'm so sorry Spencer. I'm so sorry." You say, tears once again flowing down your face. He sniffles as a tear runs down his cheek onto your thumb.

"Why?" Is all he asks but you know exactly what he means. You decide to come clean to him, there's no use of lying now.

"When I got shot, I realized that if you had been the one who got hit, and you didn't make it, that I wouldn't be able to live. The thought of living in a world without you is too much. So I had to make sure that I didn't give you a reason to make the same choice I did. I could live with you hating me, but I couldn't live in a world without you. I wanted you to hate me so that you wouldn't risk your life for me." Your thumb gently brushes his cheekbone, trembling with your words. He closes his eyes as tears keep falling down his cheeks. One of his hands comes up and grabs yours that's on his face, and he grips it tight.

"When I realized you had taken the bullet for me, I knew that nothing would be the same between us. I thought I was going to lose you. Your blood was on my hands, and it's the only thing I have nightmares about anymore. And this made me realize that I can never stop loving you, no matter what happens." He admits, causing you to cry harder. The remorse you feel for putting him through so much torment feels like it's eating you from the inside. You should have been there for him.

"I'm so sorry." Is all you can say, it's all you can express to him right now. He needs to know that you didn't mean any of it. Spencer pulls you in for a hug and holds you tight against him. One of his hands cradles the back of your head, the other is secure around your waist. Your tears stain his sweater, and the two of you let out everything.

When you finally pull back from the hug you grab his face with gentle hands, making him look at you.

"Spencer, I love you so much. I need you to know that I did what I did because I love you too much to lose you." You admit to him and he smiles. A genuine smile that you haven't seen in months. Through the tears and emotions, you two smile widely at one another.

Spencer closes the gap between the two of you, and tilts your chin up. Your lips connect with his ever so softly, and you pull him closer to you, your hands trailing down his torso, collecting fistfuls of his sweater. One of his hands rests on your cheek, brushing your cheekbone and the other keeps you close to him.

Everything that has gone unsaid is spoken loud and clear as you kiss one another. When your lungs start burning, begging for air, you break away and lean your forehead on his chest. He brushes your hair with his fingers and you feel him press a tender kiss to the top of your head. You stay entangled with each other in a comfortable silence before you look up at him,

"We'll be alright." You tell him, knowing that the two of you will be able to mend each other in time. And things may never be like they were, and that's okay.

"We'll be alright." He confirms, kissing your forehead.

Eventually, you two move to the couch and you ask him to clasp the necklace around your neck. In the soft, warm glow of the lamps you look into his eyes and can see all of the love he holds for you. You take one of his hands in yours and he positions himself so that you can lay back against him. He's warm, and being held by him feels like home.

Laying in his arms, you decide you don't want to return to the field. After all, if you're not in the field he won't ever be faced with the decision to take a bullet for you or not. As long as he's in your life, and you're in his, things will be okay. Before you drift off to sleep, you lean up and press a kiss to his temple.

You have everything you need right here in your arms.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #dr spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid comfort #hurt/comfort #hotch #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #derek morgan #penelope garcia #spencer reid fluff #harry styles #Spotify

431 notes · View notes

luneengene2 · 4 months

Text

Enhypen Legal Line and Their Role Play When Doing 'It'

• Warnings : Contains smut content, Contains grammatical errors

• A/N : Even though Ni-ki is of legal International age, I don't want to write smut for him (Bro, he just turned 18 a month ago!💀)

• Pairings : Enhypen members x fem!reader

~~~~~

• Heeseung (Ghostface) : Heeseung likes extreme things (maybe), especially when he finishes watching a film called SCREAM. When he finishes watching SCREAM, he might immediately invite you to role-play as Ghostface and Samantha. He will get into his role well, and if he manages to catch you, he will immediately fuck you roughly still with his ghostface mask on.

• Jay (Boss x Secretary) : Jay might add the 'spice' of infidelity to this role play. You and he will play roles as if you were his mistress. He will really dive into his role as a boss who cheats on his wife along with his sexy and busty secretary (you). And he would 'borrow' his father's work space to do just that (help!).

• Jake ( Teacher x Student ) : Jake will be very excited in this role play. Imagine you act as a student who has problems with your grades, then consult with a handsome young teacher. Jake will immediately become hardened and aroused to see you wearing a tight school uniform with a spoiled tone while consulting with him to get an A+. He will have you sit on his lap as if the consultation is more 'intimate'.

• Sunghoon (Doctor x Patient) : You will come to him as if you have a complaint about your breasts. Then he will start checking your chest by asking you to take off your shirt. His hands will knead your very sexy breasts. And it ends with you giving him head for his dick because he said 'Sucking dick can relieve your pain, Miss' (Sunghoon could act silly, even when he was making love).

• Sunoo (Mafia Boss x Stripper) : I think Sunoo will look for references to role playing with you in novels or Wattpad. And the choice fell on Mafia Boss x Stripper. He will rent a room in a nightclub to have this sex with you. Making you dance for him on a slender pole in skimpy clothes, as if hiring you to be his entertainer. He will also insert money into your ass, pussy and breasts to make the role deeper before actually fucking you.

• Jungwon (Police x Prisoner) : This reminds me of the Paradoxx Invasion era, when Jungwon wore police clothes when appearing on music shows. He will fuck you as a cop because you have escaped from prison (his room). Saying that you will never be able to escape from his prison as long as he still 'guards' prisoners like you. He even wears full attributes, and a toy gun that is quite similar to a real gun to add to his sexy impression as a police officer.

#enhypen smut #enhypen heeseung #enhypen jay #enhypen jake #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen sunoo #enhypen jungwon #enhypen hard thoughts #enha x reader #enha imagines #enhypen scenarios #kpop smut

316 notes · View notes

ovaryacted · 2 months

Note

Might be a bit iffy because I don’t know if this leans into the omegaverse thing you mentioned in an earlier ask, but re2r Leon with a puppy kink, being embarrassed about it because he thinks it’s weird and then him and reader just slowly easing into it…fluffy smut I guess???

Idk I just say whatever random shit pops up into my head sometimes😭 (but also just re2 Leon reminds me of a scruffy little dog and I know damn well I’m not the only one) -🐏

MDNI/18+. NSFW.

Hey, ram anon! So the omegaverse is different, involves genetic stuff with mates and the whole alpha, beta, and omega dynamics that people like to explore. Real Wattpad and Tumblr vets know what I'm talking about (that was a crazy time LMAOOOO). BUT, pet play is an actual kink that people have and I think that is what you're describing! Personally, I wasn't a big fan of pet play in a literal sense (because you live and you learn more about stuff so your opinion can change), and now I don't think it's so bad because there are many ways to mess around with kinks as a whole.

If it were up to me, pet play would be very fun, especially involving RE2R Leon. He gives pathetic puppy dog vibes and will always be at his partner's beck and call even if it comes off as embarrassing because he doesn't realize it's a kink that he enjoys. I think for him in particular, the whole dom/sub role exploration is what would get him off with the addition of a lot of praise.

It really starts with the pet names, where Leon would be praised for doing things he didn't think would actually matter. Doing a good job at work? You tell him you're proud of him. He's been doing good keeping up his routine? You remind him how good he is, and how taking care of himself makes you happy. He fucks you the way you want and makes you feel good? You praise him for doing that and call him a good boy for following your orders.

Leon doesn't realize that your ability to just acknowledge his accomplishments no matter how big and small makes him beam from ear to ear. It makes him feel good that you care about his presence in the first place, that you have this much control over his outlook on life. With every statement of validation you give him, he becomes more devoted to you, like a dog who has found their forever home. If he had a tail, it would be wagging from side to side, that's the best way to put it.

But when he finds himself more curious about why he likes your praising so much, he comes to terms with the fact that it's more than just you caring about him. To Leon, you are his escape, you keep him put together and grounded when the world gets to be too overwhelming. You have him wrapped around your finger and you know this, nor is he complaining about this fact anyway, that's what he wants, what he enjoys.

So when you come up with a proposition to help Leon figure out the best way to explore this new dynamic, he follows along, because he assumes you know best. Currently, he rests his head on your lap, your fingers running through his hair and raking through his scalp. It feels nice, better than good, and a rumble of a sigh slips out of him, reminiscent of a purr.

"That feels good baby?", you ask to him, and he can feel the tips of his ears growing hot at just the sound of your voice.

"Yeah, feels nice", he says with his eyes closed. He's trying to bask in your attention, in letting you pet or touch him however you wanted.

"Good. You can stay like that for however long you want", and of course, he's going to stay until he gets his fill. This was only the beginning of an introduction to something Leon would eventually need. Baby steps.

It takes a while to fully ease Leon into this new kink lifestyle. At first, he didn't think you'd be into it, would judge him for liking something out of the ordinary. But you're just as into it as he is, and it progresses the more you test the limits.

Now with his face in between your thighs, he licked at your cunt incessantly, lapping at it like his personal water bowl. Your hand remained in place at his head, holding him against you, and the other was curled around the leash that was connected to his neck. The suggestion of wearing a collar and leash in the bedroom would make some people raise their eyebrows, but not for you. You didn't expect Leon to be so enthusiastic about the idea, but the feeling of being yours was enough to make his body throb.

Leon's knees were planted to the floor as your legs slouched over his shoulders, his hands rubbing on the underside of them and pressing himself closer to where you needed him. The tip of his nose rubbed into your pulsing clit, his tongue caressing your inner walls as they clenched around him. Your hips moved towards his face, feeling him hum against you and whining when you pulled him away from your heat.

"How does that feel honey? Mama knows how to take care of her puppy no?", Leon looked up at you with hazy blue eyes, his tongue lolling against his plump lips and giving you a nod.

"Mhm, so good. Need more...please let me give you more", he nuzzled his face into your inner knee, placing a soft kiss to calm his own desires.

"Good boy. Make me cum and I'll fuck you after, a treat for being so good for me", the praise made Leon's cock twitch against his pelvis, your fingers pulling him back towards your dripping seam with a tug of the leash. He didn't waste any time, whimpering at the taste of your slick filling his mouth once more and his eyes fluttering closed again.

Anything to please his owner, anything to hear you praise him the way he craves. Being owned by you is where he belongs, ready to do whatever you said just so you can tell him he's a good boy, your good boy.

#ovaryacted asks #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy headcanons #resident evil #resident evil smut #resident evil x reader #₊˚⊹ ♡ ─ ram anon 🐏

176 notes · View notes

femdomlieeh · 11 months

Text

Pink Blush (m)

First time Sub!Haechan ✧ Secretly Dom!Reader

WC—1.8 k

THEMES—new relationship ✧ nsfw fluff (?) ✧ borderline smut

WARNING—punishment ✧ teasing (m!g) ✧ masturbation (m) ✧ use of handcuffs & strap on ✧ praise ✧ light degradation ✧ pet names "mommy", "channie", "bad boy"✧ mentions of gender stereotypes (ew), safe words & (future) pegging

NOW PLAYING—Tattoo ✧ Loreen

[A/N.] old xiumin (exo) version

When this post gets 100 votes I’ll publish a stray kids group reaction chapter👍

M.LISTS—nct 127 ✧ dream ✧ latest updates ✧ wp version

✧ ੈ ✧ ‧₊˚ * ੈ ✧‧₊˚＊* ੈ ✧ ‧₊˚ * ੈ ✧‧₊˚＊* ✧ ੈ ✧

"Come on~! Show me~!" Haechan whined in your ear for the umpteenth time today.

Like all the previous times, you answered no.

Yesterday your boyfriend had found out that you had a mommy kink and liked being dominant in the bed (You had left a wattpad tab open on our shared laptop because you were apparently too tired to click on the cross), and, although that should've been something positive, you didn't want him to know.

On a daily basis, he already got critique for being younger (looking younger) than his partner, and being too 'feminine' and 'cutesy' – so, to want him to submit to you and make him match other people's perception of him was selfish and thus something you refused to do.

The theory of genders having specific power roles was something you'd always been opposed to, as you do not believe a gender determines a level of power. Truthfully, you couldn't care less if your boyfriend wanted to break gender stereotypes or not — damn, he could wear 'girly' clothes and/or put make up on if he wanted to — but you did care about what he thought of himself.

He didn't like it when people commented on how much younger he looked than he was. He didn't like it when people described him as feminine instead of masculine. He didn't like it when people [excluding you and some of his friends] called him cute. He didn't think that having any of those characteristics was wrong; he just didn't want people to call him those things.

"Please?" He attempted to lure you in with his gleaming puppy eyes – which usually worked – but that method didn't work this time around, because the great amount of vexation he had brought to you today had made you fully resistant to his cuteness.

"No, I don't want to hurt you," you answered with a blank face, trying your best to find a seemingly interesting movie on Netflix, that you hadn't already seen, so your boyfriend could give up his dumb quest. It was a little confusing why he wanted to try these types of thing with you, knowing how he felt about being belittled by others.

"I thought you said that we should always be honest with each other and always be ourselves," he argued, making a valid point since you had said those words from the start of your relationship.

"But I also said I never wanted us to hurt each other," you retorted in defense, feeling more and more irritated by the second.

Leaning and sinking down a little bit on the sofa, Haechan wanted to be more comfortable as he knew this conversation would be long. Chewing on the strings of his pink hoodie, he looked at and studied you; frown, annoyed sighs, hard grip on the remote, darker lips from biting on them – everything pointed at you being mad, and thus rather sensitive.

Then a bulb lit above his head.

"But what if I like it when you hurt me?"

You turned your head to his side. There it was. Exactly what he wanted to see. An expression on your face that told him that if he continued this route, he would get fucked. Whether it was literally or metaphorically, he wanted to find out.

"I'm leaving," you announced and stood up as quickly as the short sentence ended. You had to leave, because Haechan was pushing your buttons and you knew that if you stayed for longer you could end up doing what you had been trying to avoid since he had found out about the femdom part of you.

His face changed from calm puppy to clingy puppy with separation anxiety, scared of its owner leaving. This was not the reaction he had tried to get from you. He stood up and followed your fast steps to the bedroom. As soon as he saw you throw one of your biggest bags onto the floor, followed up by some clothing pieces, he felt his blood freeze. Were you leaving as in leaving the relationship?

"Why are you packing?" he asked, scared of your answer.

"I'm going to Irene's. I can't stay with you when you're making me crazy like this." What you said was true; you were sure he'd crack your patience and make you go full sadist on him if you stayed in the same room as him for another minute – or even worse: another hour or whole night.

He felt relieved that you weren't breaking up with him over a silly argument, but he still didn't want you to stay over at your friend's when you both knew that it would be smarter to solve the tension instead.

"Stay with me," he pleaded lowly, sensing he didn't have many other options than pleading and hoping it'd be persuasive enough for you to stay with him.

"We need a night without each to calm down and have an adult discussion, alright?" you tried to explain, grabbing your now-fully-packed bag, and heading to the door to continue your journey to your awesome best friend.

When Haechan didn't talk back, you turned away from the doorway and to the bed to see why he was being quiet and not protesting some more like he usually would. He was looking you in the eyes as he pulled the hoodie off his torso and threw it your way. You caught it in your hand. Proceeding, he pulled down his pants, making sure he did it slowly enough to send you signals that he wasn't planning on putting on his PJs.

As he stood in only his boxers in front of you, a new bulb lit up above his head – and this one was even brighter than the last one – maybe he did have more options than to plead and strip.

With a smirk he sat down on the foot of the bed, maintaining eye contact, and pulled down his boxers to reveal his hard cock. You were speechless when he had stripped down to almost full nudity, but what shocked you the most was that just speaking to him disrespectfully had turned him on.

The moment he started touching his cock and moaning like a bitch, you realized that he had purposely been naughty so you could punish him. He had whined in you ear all day, stripped and masturbated when you wanted to leave because he wanted this; he wanted to be punished.

So, you decided to do it.

You dropped the bag and went to your wardrobe, taking out a box you'd kept secret from Haechan. He looked your way curiously, analyzing your reaction while still stroking his cock rudely. Damn, he hoped you were doing something femdom related.

"Safeword?" you asked, examining the nostalgic box of memory-making apparatuses, trying to decide which ones you wanted to use to make memories tonight.

"Sun," he answered, smiling at the victory; he was going to get fucked literally.

"I hope you understand that I'm going to have to punish you for being such a naughty boy."

"Yes, Mommy," he said oh so naturally.

You looked back at him after he said the last word, watching him lay down on the bed, boxers in a random corner of the room. He seemed experienced or like he'd had a fantasy about calling you that word for a while, no stutter, and thankfully that made it easier for you decide on which toys to use on him.

"Naughty boys don't deserve to touch Mommy," you turned to him with a pair of pink, fluffy handcuffs. He blushed a little, not expecting the object you chose to punish him with to be so adorable. Did he seriously think that was all you were going to use as punishment when he'd riled you up like this?

How cute.

Walking slowly to him, you threw the cuffs onto the bed beside his legs and startled him a bit at the suddenness of the action. He had teased you, and you wanted to make sure he'd feel teased as well – and what better way to do that than to use one of his biggest weaknesses against him? Smirking, you pulled off your shirt, leaving your upper body in only a bra – a pink one. He had always liked that color – though he denied it since it wasn't manly to like pink.

You climbed on top of his body and took the cuffs in your hands again, getting ready to restrain him. He was breathing heavily, getting aroused by your body above his, and especially by your boobs that were clad in such a lovely color. Although he liked the bra, he would've loved to see your boobs without anything covering them.

"Hold your arms up for me, Channie," you ordered, to which he listened to instantly. He held them up against the bed frame, assuming you were going to cuff him to it. But he was wrong. You didn't want him to predict his punishment; you wanted everything to be a surprise that not even his fantasy could come close to.

Instead of cuffing his wrists to the frame of the bed, you cuffed them to nothing. Yes, nothing. It may sound boring to restrain your partner to nothing, but it was the opposite; restraining him to air meant that he still could choose to disobey you further by bringing his arms down. "You're going to keep your arms here, and if you at any point put them down and touch me it'll add to your punishment, understood?"

"Yes, Mommy."

"Oh, don't act like a good boy all of a sudden. You're getting punished for a reason, Haechannie," you scoffed lightly, feeling soft from the sweetness that seemed to ooze naturally whether he tried to or not.

"But I am a good boy," he pouted, adding to the cuteness you adored so much.

"Only if you can manage this punishment, but until then you're a bad boy," you explained and turned back to the box to grab the last part of the punishment. He continued pouting, until he saw the object you took out: a strap on. After removing your pants, you put the fake dick on and adjusted it to your hips.

The strap wasn't bigger than the average dick as you didn't know how used he was to having dildos shoved up his ass – and even though you wanted to hurt him, you were still cautious over how harsh you were with him. He was your squishy Haechannie after all.

"You ready, Channie?" you asked as you crawled back to him, searching his face for any uncertainty. His big eyes and toothy smile hinted at him anticipating what you were about to do, but you still wanted a verbal answer as you wanted to make sure he was OK with being pegged.

He nodded quickly, "Yes, Mommy, I'm always ready for you."

✧ ੈ ✧ ‧₊˚ * ੈ ✧‧₊˚＊* ੈ ✧ ‧₊˚ * ੈ ✧‧₊˚＊* ✧ ੈ ✧

❝ Violins playin' and the angels cryin'

When the stars align, then I'll be there

No, I don't care about them all

'Cause all I want is to be loved

And all I care about is you

You're stuck on me like a tattoo

No, I don't care about the pain

I'll walk through fire and through rain

Just to get closer to you

You're stuck on me like a tattoo ❞

—lorine zineb noka talhaoui; 2023

520 notes · View notes

lilacmingi · 2 months

Text

QUIDDITCH CHAMPIONSHIP

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works

Pairing: Slytherin!San x Slytherin!fem reader

Word count: 6,000

Note: Brief cameo from Jooyeon (Xdinary Heroes) <3 Reminder that this is an imagine from my Wattpad from 2023 so there will not be extra parts or continuations

You and your friends started heading off the quidditch field, walking back towards the school when a voice called out to you.

"Hey, Y/n!"

Knowing who the voice belonged to, you turned expectantly to the dimpled Slytherin standing a few feet away wearing his quidditch uniform proudly.

"What is it, San?"

"Did you see me play today?" He questioned breathlessly.

"I did."

"I was pretty good, wasn't I?"

"You were sub-par."

"Sub-par?" He echoed with a scoff. "I'm the seeker, that's like one of the most important roles on the team. I control the whole game."

"For a seeker, you sure aren't finding much."

San's jaw dropped. "I played very well today."

"But you didn't catch the snitch." You pointed out.

"I-" He paused. "I was having a rough day."

"Right." You nodded and turned to leave.

"Hey!" He called to you, making you stop once more. "You know, the championship game is coming up next week. If we win it, will you go on a date with me then?"

The air between the both of you was quiet for a moment until an idea popped into your head and you smirked, deciding to humor him and play along.

"Tell you what, if you catch the golden snitch, I'll go on a date with you."

You could see a look of determination on his face as his shoulders straightened, his eyes sparkling. "Alright."

"Alright." You respond with finality before turning around and leaving the quidditch field.

You weren't concerned in the slightest about your little bargain with San, you knew he wouldn't catch the snitch so you had nothing to worry about.

San on the other hand, took your bet very seriously and planned to work as hard as he could to make sure the quidditch cup trophy belonged to Slytherin.

7 days until quidditch championship

Your textbook landed with a heavy thud on your desk as you set it down, dropping into your seat with a heavy sigh. The empty chair beside you was soon filled by a bright-eyed San who seemed far too upbeat for someone who was up at 9 AM.

"Morning, Y/n."

"Morning, San." You greeted with less enthusiasm than him.

"I'm gonna go to the quidditch field after school to practice. You wanna come watch?"

"No thank you."

San's nonstop efforts to win you over were incredibly annoying, not to mention futile. No matter how much disinterest you showed, it was never enough to push him away.

"Your loss." He sighed, leaning back in his seat and propping his feet on the desk. "I'm going to practice as much as I can. I plan to catch that golden snitch. Just you wait."

"Mr. Choi, feet off the desk." The professor scolded as she strode into the classroom.

"Sorry." He murmured.

You didn't actually think he was going to succeed, not that you thought he was incapable but because catching the golden snitch is a hard task no matter how good of a player you are, so the chances were fairly low.

"You know, there are plenty of empty seats in this classroom." You pointed out.

"Yeah, but I wanted to sit next to you."

"Of course you did." You mumbled under your breath.

To your relief, class began shortly so you wouldn't have to worry about San bothering you for at least three hours. Normally, you'd be upset about having double hours, which is for students in higher grades, but considering this three hour class will keep you from being pestered by San, you're thankful for it, at least for today.

5 days until quidditch championship

Your quill moved smoothly across your parchment as you scribbled down notes for potions class, listing the ingredients for the Blemish Blitzer and Calming Draught potions as your professor spoke. He was talking about all sorts of different potions, telling everyone what they were used for and what was needed to make each potion. You were listening intently, finding some of them to be very useful. There was a potion for calming anxiety, alleviating coughs, and even one to make the drinker drowsy; that last one might come in handy on nights when you can't sleep.

As you jotted down notes, a paper crane flew over and landed in front of you, pulling your attention away from your messily-written list of ingredients. Your gaze lifted to find the teacher's back turned to the class before you unfolded the paper, a note written inside.

Favorite flower?

Your eyes moved over to the only person who could be responsible for sending such a note. Choi San.

The culprit sat a few desks over with a small smile on his face, his cheek resting on his palm as he waited for your answer. Instead of writing a response, you wadded it up and tossed it into your cauldron without breaking eye contact, seeing a small plume of smoke in your peripherals as the bubbling potion incinerated the paper in the blink of an eye. You only did this when the teacher wasn't looking and once he turned around the smoke had dissipated.

San pressed his lips together, visibly sighing before going back to his work.

The day went on as normal and you found yourself sitting in charms class. Your professor was showing you the wand movement for a particularly difficult spell, your wrist flicking and twisting as you tried to get the movement down. Your brows pulled together, your tongue poking the inside of your cheek in mild frustration.

"One more time." Your teacher instructed, his eyes scanning the classroom to get a look at everyone's movements.

"Now, practice saying the incantation." He directed before saying it aloud, the class repeating it.

"Again."

You echoed the incantation once again with the rest of the group. It was a mouthful, but you felt like you got it.

"Alright. Does everyone understand?"

Your eyes shifted around the room, noticing everyone nodding their heads. To be honest, you didn't quite feel like you got the wand movements down, but no one else seemed to have any problems so you decided to keep it to yourself.

San, who was sitting diagonally from you in the next row over, noticed you struggling. Even though he couldn't see your face too well, he could tell you were unsure when you tried to copy the professor's movements.

Later that day, you were headed down the stone-paved halls towards the Slytherin dorms when you heard a crackling sound of sorts that grabbed your attention. You turned your head towards the strange noise which seemed to be coming from a wall decorated with intricate concrete swirls. You took a step back, watching as the sculpted piece slowly began turning black, a doorway appearing seconds later.

Before you could do anything, a hand shot out, pulling you inside the darkness as the door closed. You began thrashing around until a voice spoke up.

"It's just me."

"San?" You spoke his name harshly due to his unorthodox way of announcing himself. "What's going on?"

Just as you asked the question, the room slowly lit as the lanterns sitting about grew brighter.

"It's a training room." He said with a smile.

"Why?"

"You seemed to be having trouble in charms class today. I thought I could help you."

You tried to hide the surprise on your face as you responded. "I don't need help."

"Alright. Show me the spell, then." He countered, crossing his arms.

"I will." You then proceeded to repeat the incantation after taking a few seconds to recall it.

"Now show me the wand movements." He instructed.

You were hesitant and San picked up on that.

"Go on." He prompted.

Heaving a sigh, you withdrew your wand and did the motions in a swift manner in hopes that he wouldn't notice any errors you made.

"Slower." He instructed.

Biting your bottom lip you slowed the movements down, San's eyes lingering on your hand.

"That's wrong."

Your arm dropped in defeat. "Okay, I don't quite understand the wand movement, so what?"

"You need help and you didn't ask for it today."

"I..." You trailed off, the rest of your sentence getting stuck in your throat. "I was embarrassed."

San's perfect brows raised. "Embarrassed? For needing help?"

"It's stupid, I know."

"It's not." He shook his head. "I get it."

You looked over at him, noticing the sincerity in his eyes.

"If you need help, I'm offering it. I know you'd rather it not be me, but if you're desperate enough for assistance then you'll take what you can get."

He was right. You silently cursed him for being so perceptive.

"Fine."

A pleased smile settled onto San's features at your answer.

"Alright, then. Try it one more time, but do it like this." He demonstrated the movements with his own wand, watching you repeat it.

For the next fifteen minutes or so, you practiced the spell until you had it perfect.

Despite how you felt about San, you thanked him for helping you. You weren't above being grateful when it mattered, even if the person that helped was someone that got on your nerves.

"We can meet up at our place whenever you need help." San offered while you both went on your way to your dormitory.

Your brows raised. "Our place?"

"Yeah." He grinned. "The training room."

"It's not our place."

He seemed to deflate a bit at that but was quick to brush it off, changing the subject.

"The sun doesn't go down for another hour and a half, I was thinking of practicing at the quidditch field again. You wanna come watch?"

"I'll pass."

He had been asking you every day if you wanted to watch him practice and you had no interest in doing so.

"I assumed as much." He gave a dry, half smile. "There's no harm in trying though."

3 days until quidditch championship

Your shoes brushed against the grass as you walked through it, the blades making a soft shiff sound in response to your feet moving past. Classes were done for the day and you decided to take a walk around the school grounds, enjoying the refreshing weather. Your brief journey led you to the quidditch field, your eyes unconsciously taking a glance towards it, catching sight of San flying around as one of his teammates, Jooyeon, watched from he ground. Based on the lack of players, it appeared San was doing a solo practice. Without realizing, you came to a stop watching the way San dodged the bludgers coming at him, whizzing through the air with ease. Moving closer to the arena's entrance you stood and observed, making sure you were hidden as your eyes followed San's figure zooming around the field on his broom.

As annoying as he sometimes was, he was a good quidditch player, that much you would admit. Not just that, but his determination to improve was somewhat admirable—you'd never say it out loud though.

All of a sudden, one of the bludgers rammed into him and nearly knocked him off his broom, his once solid form wavering. You recoiled, hissing slightly at the sight as you imagined how bad it must have hurt. He tried to recover, but appeared to be losing control of his broom, unable to get himself back on track, this causing him to tumble to the ground, rolling a few times before stopping, his body a lump on the grass.

"San!" You gasped, rushing out onto the field without giving it a second thought.

He winced as he rolled onto his back.

A feeling of guilt washed over you as you took in San's pained expression, part of you felt like you were to blame for this. You made that stupid deal with him and now he had pushed himself too far and gotten injured.

"Y/n?" San peeled one of his eyes open to look up at you before a cheeky smirk pulled at his lips. "So you did decide to come and watch."

"Don't be delusional. I was only passing by."

"Sure you were." He rolled his eyes with a sideways grin.

"Do you want help or not?" You asked, losing your patience.

"I'm fine." He assured you, pushing himself into a sitting position. "It's nothing a quick trip to the nurse won't fix."

"You need to be careful."

"I need to catch the snitch." He said, meeting your gaze, his sharp eyes full of determination.

It was in that moment you worried he would actually win.

"San! You alright?" Jooyeon ran over with a worried expression, his distressed gaze scanning over his older teammate, searching him for injuries.

"Yeah, I just hit the ground really hard." He responded, rubbing his shoulder.

"We need to get you to the hospital wing."

"Y/n can take me." San insisted.

"No. I have somewhere to be." You lied.

"Not anymore you don't."

Without a choice or a say in the matter, you pulled San's right arm over your shoulder and helped him up, noticing the way his face twisted as he got to his feet. Escorting San to the hospital wing was not how you planned to spend your afternoon.

He was quick to asses the fact that he hit his left shoulder pretty hard on the ground when he fell off his broom, hard enough for it to cause him pain when he moved it. The injury, though minor and easy to fix, was preventing him from getting the rest of his afternoon practice in which agitated him.

The only sound heard was two pairs of feet moving through the grass and the light breeze that blew past the trees on the school grounds, rustling their leaves.

"That was a nasty fall." You commented, needing to break the deafening silence that loomed in the air.

"Yeah. That bludger hit me pretty good. Usually I'm able to recover without any issues, but for some reason I couldn't this time. I guess you're a bad luck charm."

"Bad luck charm? Really?" You sarcastically responded.

"I mean, it happened when you were watching me. You never showed up to my other practices and I never had any accidents then."

"Then I'll be sure to watch you real good during the championship game."

Your jab meant nothing to him, in fact it made him laugh.

Once you dropped San off at the hospital wing, you allowed the nurse to take things from there and turned to leave.

"Where are you going?" San asked.

Truthfully, you weren't sure.

"To the dormitory." You answered.

"Could you stay?"

Something in your gut told you to listen to him and for some odd reason the idea wasn't completely appalling.

"Alright." You caved, moving to sit on an empty bed beside the one San was occupying.

"What seems to be the problem?" The nurse asked him.

"I fell off my broom during quidditch practice. I hit the ground pretty hard and I think I may have injured my shoulder."

"Let's see." She began removing his gear, leaving him in his uniform pants and a black shirt.

She gingerly touched his shoulder, seeing if he reacted. When he didn't, she started moving it which is when San's face twisted in discomfort. After a moment, she nodded her head as if she figured out what the problem was.

"It seems you may have just bruised your shoulder, maybe even pulled a muscle during your fall. That's no problem, though. I'll heal it up right away."

You watched as she cast a spell, immediately healing his injured shoulder.

"Move your arm around for me, please." She requested.

San did as he was told, his eyes lighting up.

"All better." He smiled.

The whole visit took no time at all, you wondered why San even asked you to stay in the first place. Though, some part of you was glad he did. The thought of leaving him alone didn't quite feel right.

Once the nurse walked away, San jumped to his feet, rolling his shoulder to test it.

"Thank goodness it was just rough fall and a pulled muscle. If it were something more serious she might not have been able to heal it and then I couldn't play in the championship game." He went to grab his gear, sliding it back on.

"What do you think you're doing?" You asked.

"Going back out to practice."

"You just injured yourself."

"I'm all better. Everything is fine now." He paused, a smirk tugging at his lips. "You don't want me to practice because you don't want me to win the game. Is that it?"

"No. I just don't see why you're going back out there after getting healed. You should take it easy."

"Ah. So you're worried about me?"

"I never said that."

"You didn't have to." He grinned, sauntering out of the hospital ward.

As much as you wanted to try and stop him, you knew you couldn't. He was determined to get back out on that quidditch field and finish practice no matter what.

Later that night you lied in your canopy bed, staring at the green fabric draped over the wooden frame above. One thing you loved about the dormitories was how everyone got a canopy bed with curtains that could be drawn for privacy. During your spare time you'd sometimes come up to the bedrooms and lie down for a quick nap or just sit with the curtains pulled together while you wrote letters or did homework. The partial privacy the canopy beds gave you made you feel protected.

Tonight, however, your curtain-covered safe haven wasn't proving to give much solace as thoughts of San swirled in your head, he was plaguing you and you hated it. You couldn't stop thinking about the way your heart clenched when you saw him fall off his broom earlier that day, the scene replaying in your head. You didn't say this aloud, but you were relieved he only pulled a muscle. If he'd gotten seriously injured you don't know what you would have done.

You paused, eyes going wide at your own thoughts. Why did you run out on that field? It's strange. You went out there without even thinking. As soon as San hit the ground you bolted towards him.

"No." You whispered out under your breath.

There's no way you were entertaining the idea of actually liking San. He got hurt, you were worried. That's all. This was just concern masquerading as attraction, you were sure of it.

1 day until quidditch championship

The light gray clouds hung low in the sky, moving languidly across your vision as you lounged in the courtyard. It was an overcast day which was fairly common here at Hogwarts. You didn't mind it.

Your eyelids slid closed as a long relaxing breath was let out through your nostrils, the comfortably cool breeze caressing your cheeks.

A few blissful moments passed before you heard someone walking through the grass, the sound seeming to be close by. However, you decided not to open your eyes, until you heard someone clear their throat, that is.

You peeled one of your eyes open, finding San standing over you, very clearly holding something behind his back.

"What is it?" You asked with a sigh, mildly annoyed that he disrupted your leisure time.

"Sorry to bother you." He apologized, seeming to be aware of your irritation. "I got these for you."

He held out a bouquet of red roses, his eyes staying glued to the blades of grass below as he avoided eye contact, waiting for you to take them.

The sudden gift made you scramble to your feet to get a closer look at the blooms.

"I hope roses are alright. You never told me what your favorite flower was and these are the default."

"Where'd you get these?" You asked.

"It doesn't matter." He responded, still avoiding eye contact.

You'd never seen San act this way before. Usually he was boisterous, overly-confident, and obnoxious. Now, he was shy, almost nervous and much quieter than usual.

Carefully, you took the flowers from him, turning the cluster of blooms in your hands, seeing the way they were tied together by twine, the stems appearing to be thorn-free.

San nervously fiddled with his hands, that's when you could see scratches across his knuckles and the tops of his hands, a couple bandages wrapped around his fingers.

Your expression softened as did your heart.

You cleared your throat, murmuring a quiet thank you under your breath.

"Yeah. You're welcome." He rubbed the back of his neck in a nervous manner. "Well, I'm gonna stop intruding on your alone time now."

With that, he turned around and started walking away. You almost called out for him, asking for him to stop and maybe even join you, but your words were stuck and died on your tongue before you could utter them.

You stood amongst your fellow housemates, watching the field below. Some students around you had signs with players' numbers on it while others had little pompoms with the Slytherin house colors on it, shaking them excitedly. It was a big day and the entire school was buzzing with energy. You on the other hand were nervous. Not only was this the championship game in which you and San's little deal depended on, but one that was between the houses with the longest running rivalry; Slytherin vs Gryffindor. Of course, you wanted your house to win, but if they did that meant you had to go on a date with San and you still weren't keen on the idea.

The players stepped out onto the field sporting their respective house colors, gathering around the referee and taking their places. The quaffle was tossed into the air and the game began. One of the players on the Slytherin team was quick to grab it, zooming towards Gryffindor's goal, but it wasn't that easy. A bludger was hit towards the Slytherin player by someone on the opposing team, but he was quick to dodge it as Slytherin's beater, Jooyeon, came in and hit it back towards Gryffindor at the last second.

It was when you saw a small golden sphere whiz by that your breath hitched. Your eyes followed it as San flew after it.

No, no, no. You thought to yourself.

He reached his hand out for it, but was hit in the side by Gryffindor's seeker.

You breathed a silent sigh of relief.

The game went on and both teams were doing incredibly well, the score staying close the entire time. Your upper body leaned over the wooden railing of the stands, watching anxiously as Gryffindor's seeker and San were side-by-side chasing after the snitch. The latter appeared to be ahead by a hair, his fingers almost touching the golden sphere.

"Go San!" You shouted impulsively.

You were quick to silence yourself. Why were you cheering? If San caught the snitch you would have to go on a date with him.

It was at that moment the snitch darted to the side, disappearing from San and the Gryffindor player's sight, which brought you a little relief.

He won't catch it. You thought. It's too difficult.

But he's been practicing a lot. You noted just a second later.

That little revelation was enough to have you worried all over again. That feeling multipled tenfold when San found the golden snitch and was hot on its trail once again. Even from your vantage point you could see the spark of determination in his eyes and that terrified you.

When he was close enough, he extended his hand, reaching towards the golden snitch while he tried to keep his broom steady with the other hand. You caught sight of Gryffindor's seeker coming up behind San, your nails unconsciously digging into the wooden railing. Moving your gaze back to San, you saw how focused he was, a feeling of dread washing over you. He whizzed all over the field, dodging bludgers and other players, sharp eyes fixed on the snitch. In the blink of an eye, San snatched the flying sphere from the air and the game was over.

"Choi San has just caught the golden snitch! Slytherin wins!" The announcer exclaimed causing the entire section to erupt in cheers.

Your heart dropped to your feet. He caught it.

San caught the golden snitch. Slytherin won the quidditch cup. The students around you screamed and cheered in celebration while you stood frozen and unmoving, your mind processing what had just happened.

You were only humoring him when you made that stupid deal, you didn't think he'd actually win. But now that it had happened, you realized you had to keep your end of the bargain.

You left the stands, keeping your eyes down hoping that you could slip out of the stadium without being noticed.

"Well, well, well." San smirked, walking towards you triumphantly.

"Don't rub it in."

"As bad as I want to, I won't."

"You know, I didn't even want to do this."

"I know, which is why I've decided something. You keep your end of the deal and go on a date with me, then afterwards if you really don't feel anything for me I'll leave you alone."

Your brows raised slightly.

"You're serious?"

"Very."

"Okay." You nodded. "That's fair."

"Great. Meet me outside the school's entrance tomorrow at noon."

A vague feeling of dread creeped up on you as you stepped outside the school, hoping you wouldn't regret your decision to keep your word.

"You're right on time."

San was standing not too far from where you were, giving a friendly wave as you approached him.

"Alright. What's the plan?" You asked, noticing the broom in his hand.

"I'm glad you asked." He grinned while he straddled the handle. "Get on."

You hesitantly slung your leg over, standing behind San.

"You'll have to get closer than that."

You stepped forward, chest pressing against his back.

"Have you ever ridden a broom before, pretty?" He asked.

You ignored the way the nickname made your stomach flip and answered his question.

"Only once during first year when we were learning how to use them."

"Hold on tight."

You barely had time to wrap your arms around his waist before the broom lifted off the ground. San angled the stick upwards, lifting the both of you higher into the air making your anxiety skyrocket.

Your hold on his slim midriff tightened as he flew around the school, your face pressing closer to his back as you fought the urge to squeeze your eyes shut and shield yourself from the heart-stopping view below.

"There's no need to be scared, Y/n." He told you. "You're safe with me."

You hoped that was true.

Lifting your head, you peered over San's shoulder, looking out at the view of the lake sitting below Hogwarts. The outlook from above was incredible and helped distract you from being so nervous.

"It's pretty, isn't it?"

"Yeah." You breathed. "It is."

"See? This isn't so bad."

"I guess not."

After making his way around the castle, San landed on a flat area on the roof of the school, which you were partially relived about, thankful to be on solid ground again.

"The roof?" You questioned, glancing around at the empty area while San set his broom aside.

"Just wait." He grinned excitedly, moving over and grabbing something that you clearly couldn't see.

He pulled back on the unseen object, revealing a picnic setup.

"Ta-da." He beamed, gesturing to the arrangement.

"You had an invisibility cloak? How did you manage to get your hands on that?"

"I have connections." He shrugged. "C'mon. Have a seat."

Obliging, you made yourself comfortable on the blanket he had laid out, getting a look at all the snacks he prepared.

A small array of fresh fruit, sandwiches, and small desserts were spread out before you, even a couple bottles of fizzy sodas. You didn't want to say it aloud, but you were impressed. He really went all out for this.

"Would you like one?" San offered you a plate of small sandwiches.

You obliged, plucking one from the saucer and having a taste. Your brows raised in astonishment.

"Where did you get these?"

"I got permission from the kitchen staff to prepare all of this."

"You made these?"

He nodded, mentally fist pumping in celebration, thanking Wooyoung for teaching him how to prepare the sandwiches.

His dedication was, in a way, endearing and made you feel warm and fuzzy inside, your heart fluttering slightly.

"Is there anything you'd like? I can fix you a plate." He offered.

You accepted his offer and told him what you'd like, watching as he piled the plate with food. He handed you your platter with a smile, grabbing a bottle of soda.

"A drink for the lady."

Either he was really turning up the charm for this date, or he was actually a nice person and you severely misjudged him—you feared it was the latter.

"Thank you for agreeing to this." San gave you a dimpled grin, his cheeks painted a light shade of pink.

"Yeah, you're welcome." You spoke quietly, popping the top on your drink using a simple spell. "It's nicer than I expected."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

The both of you sat in silence for a few moments as you quietly snacked on fruit and took a sip of your drink.

"Thanks for the flowers." You spoke up suddenly. "And also for removing the thorns."

San appeared stunned at your words.

"You picked them yourself, didn't you?"

"How'd you know?" He asked.

"I saw your scraped knuckles and bandaged fingers."

He pressed his lips together, unconsciously fiddling with his fingers that were still healing.

"You're welcome. I hope roses were alright."

"They were. I really liked them, actually."

"You did?"

You nodded. "They're in a vase beside my bed."

Hearing that made San's heart soar. You'd always shown so much disinterest in him, but knowing you kept the roses he picked for you, in a vase no less, made him giddy. Maybe you didn't dislike him as much as he originally assumed.

"Would you like dessert?"

"Did you make this stuff too?" You questioned, reaching for one of the confectionery treats.

"Unfortunately no, just the sandwiches. I'm sure that makes all of this less impressive."

"It doesn't." You responded, taking one of the tiny sweets from the plate San had offered you.

San packed up the empty plates and other leftovers placing them into a basket, casting a spell to make it compact and easy to carry.

"We have to get back down and there's only one way." He stated, picking up his broom.

You peered over the edge of the roof, looking down at the ground below.

"You're not scared, are you?" San asked almost teasingly.

"No." You denied. "I can handle it."

"Get on, then."

You took your place behind him on the broomstick once again, this time feeling more comfortable wrapping your arms around him, the closeness making butterflies erupt in your stomach.

The descent from the roof to the ground wasn't as terrifying as you expected it to be. As soon as you landed, both you and San headed back towards the school, though a part of you didn't want the date to end.

"I have a confession." You spoke up.

San's gaze landed on you upon hearing the word confession, giving you his undivided attention.

"The date was..." You hesitated.

San's eyebrows raised.

"I enjoyed it." You finally admitted. "I was impressed with everything."

His eyes softened as a gentle smile spread across his lips, thought his heart was doing flips. "I was hoping you'd say that. So, what's the verdict?"

"Verdict?" You echoed.

"Yeah. How do you feel about me?"

The question alone put you on edge. How did you feel about San? He was so charming during the date and you couldn't deny that you had some sort of attraction towards him.

"Well, I don't dislike you." Was what you decided to say.

That made San chuckle. "So that means you like me?"

"I suppose it does."

"The real question is, do you like me enough to want to go on another date?"

It only took a couple seconds for you to answer.

"Yes."

"Can I escort you back to the dorms?"

"I'd like that."

The walk back inside the school was a quiet one, assumably because you were both feeling a bit shy after your confession. Truthfully, you were kicking yourself for constantly brushing him off, wondering why you hadn't given San the time of day sooner. He wasn't nearly as obnoxious as you originally thought he was.

You were so lost in thought, you didn't realize you'd already arrived at the Slytherin dorms until you heard San speak the password to get inside. He escorted you through the common room to where the girls' dorms were located, standing awkwardly outside the door, his face red. You turned to him, waiting to see what it was he had to say.

"Is it okay if I give you a kiss on the cheek?" He finally asked.

"Yes."

He leaned in and pressed his lips to your cheek in a gentle manner, the moment not lasting long enough. When he pulled away he was unable to hold eye contact, bidding you a shy farewell before scurrying away.

Your eyes scanned the hallway warily as the secret entrance to the training room slid open. Giving one last glance to your surroundings, you stepped inside, the already dim room shrouding in darkness as the entrance closed.

Your back immediately hit the wall as a pair of lips landed on yours, a set of hands squeezing your waist, keeping you pinned to the brick wall. Knowing exactly who it was, you welcomed the display of affection and kissed back. Your fingers tangled themselves in San's black hair, tugging at the strands any time his teeth latched onto your bottom lip, eliciting a string of blissful sighs from you. His actions made your mind foggy and your face hot, his kisses feverish and desperate.

You tugged his robe off, hands groping his arms, feeling his strong biceps under the fabric of his school uniform.

San parted ways, giving you only a few seconds to catch your breath before taking it away again by reattaching his lips to your neck. He pressed open-mouthed kisses to your sensitive skin, sending a wave of chills down your spine. Your fingers unconsciously curled at the base of his neck. The feeling of your nails dragging against San's scalp elicited a low groan from him, the sound vibrating against your skin and making your eyelids flutter slightly.

When he finally pulled away, you noticed the lanterns inside the secret training room had lit up, wondering when that happened. San rested his forehead with yours, gazing at you with half-lidded eyes.

"I wasn't sure you'd show." He said breathlessly, his chest moving up and down with each huff.

"Why? You asked me to meet you here. Plus, this is our spot, isn't it?"

His eyes widened as a bright grin broke out across his face.

"You called it our place."

"Yeah, I know." You lightly rolled your eyes, huffing out a chuckle.

San had a game in an hour, so you were glad you got to spend some time with him prior, but part of you was selfish and wanted to spend the rest of the day with him.

"Good luck at your quidditch game today." You told San, cupping his cheek. "You're gonna need it."

"I don't need luck."

"I don't know." You trailed off. "Ever since we started dating you haven't been practicing as hard since there's nothing to win."

He smirked, pulling you flush against him. "That's because I've already got my prize."

Hongjoong ⟡ Seonghwa ⟡ Yunho ⟡ Yeosang ⟡ Mingi ⟡ Wooyoung ⟡ Jongho

Masterlist ᝰ — enjoyed this imagine? reblogs & comments are very much appreciated!

DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate my works in any way

🏷 @h3arteyes4mingi @weird-bookworm @poppy2007 @parkjennykim @evidive @mxlly143 @lizzymizzy-blogg @minhanbyeol @dinossaurz @laylasbunbunny

#san x reader #san x you #san x y/n #choi san x reader #choi san x you #choi san x y/n #choi san imagines #san imagines #ateez imagines #ateez oneshot #ateez scenarios #ateez hogwarts au #kpop imagines #kpop oneshots #kpop scenarios

154 notes · View notes