#because i was not expecting it to get so much attention
Text
get you alone | ljn ( m )
ideally, jeno should have his hands full with teaching. (un)fortunately, he only seems to have his head full of you.
pairing: tutor!jeno x reader
verse: college au
rating: r ( minors, do not interact! )
warnings & tags: jeno is a college algebra math tutor & reader is failing, written in lapslock, not beta’d in any shape or form so please excuse mistakes, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, folks), piv, oral (f!receiving), use of pet names (kitten, angel, sweetheart), praise, reader calls jeno ‘sunbae’ until she doesn’t, size kink i guess if u squint!
word count: 8.5k
a/n : actually this was written for a different fandom but i’ve decided to make it a jeno fic bc idk why not! first time writing in a different perspective so it’s a bit odd for me & i can't say i fw with this style nor am i particularly proud of this fic but she is ... sumn! also i fear i have a thing for the math tutor trope but that’s neither here nor there AHA enjoy !!
if you liked it, please consider reblogging to support (especially because this may get flagged for mature content)!
there wasn’t anything special about your case; at least, that’s what jeno had thought when he picked up your request before he met you. before he met you, you were just another student trying to demystify the painfully enigmatic art of getting through college algebra. before he met you, he had already tagged this case as another charity stint — a good way to get brownie points with the dean’s office and the mathematics and natural sciences department. in fact, thinking of all his tutoring cases as community service made them somewhat palatable, if not a little forgettable. he was quite sure, at the time, that you’d be in and out — both of the tutoring center and his memory. such was the case with most of his other tutees, anyway.
he hadn’t expected you to be… well, you — a pretty little thing, with your sweet smile and your wide doe eyes. on the first day, you’d stood out; you’d arrived at the tutoring center’s lobby in a short dress, knit cardigan, and coquettish makeup, as if every fiber of your being were bidding the spring a solid farewell. multiple heads had turned, including his, as you came up to the front desk and asked for one lee jeno for college algebra. you were eager for summer, jeno had learned as you broke the ice little by little, in part because you looked forward to visiting okinawa with your family, but also because you were eager to get your first semester out of the way. that much, you had in common with most of his other students — almost all of the ones seeking help in college algebra only took it as a depressing core requirement of whatever degree they were doing. you, specifically, were focusing on fashion design; that very vividly explained your attention to your looks. this mathematics class was a thorn in your side, a mandatory thing that was simply supposed to get you through later business-oriented classes in your degree program. for jeno, however, college algebra had become the perfect excuse from the moment he’d laid eyes on you.
the more time he spends with you, the more he thinks you’re exactly his taste. it starts off with little things he finds attractive, things he picks up while he’s watching you fill out the practice sheets he’s prepared for you on quadratic equations or while trying to get you to understand logarithms — your neat, tiny handwriting, almost like print; your habit of boxing your final answers in firm strokes, even if they’re hopelessly wrong; your colored tabs, cascading down the page side of your textbook. but as the weeks wear on, he sees all the little things in between — the way your long eyelashes quiver when you stop and close your eyes as you think for the answer, the upturn of your plush lips when you have the same answer on the practice sheet as he does, the deepening of your artificial blush with a natural hue when you realize you don’t know the answers to his gentle questions. he notices that you refuse to wear anything longer than a knee-length skirt despite the still-strong winds, notices that your tiny palms are always smooth and pink, that your hair always smells of coconut milk. these are things he can’t help but jot down in his memory — that was exactly what you were, after all: memorable.
and the more he remembers about you, the more jeno wants you. yet he’s never made a move, never given so much as a hint of his interest, not only because there are prying eyes all around the building but also because you have never so much as shown a smidge of desire back. in fact, he has to wonder if you’ve ever thought of him in a different capacity — not as a tutor, but as a man. if you have, you’ve never made that obvious; you always talk to him respectfully, the little wall you’ve erected between the both of you remaining steady, and you never let your eyes linger on his face for longer than it takes for him to explain what you don’t know. jeno has had his fair share of female students, and in all of them, he’s seen the same kind of hunger — to few, he’s catered to their whims, if only to pass the time, if only for his own benefit. but you, with your ribbons in your hair and your sweet, sweet mouth, have never once shown that same kind of desire.
he doesn’t know if it frustrates him, but he does know one thing — it makes him want you all the more.
he wants you even now, as you sit across from him, dolled up as usual. even now, as your eyes take on a glassy sheen of defeat, your cheeks puffing out in the way that tells him you’re admonishing yourself once again, he craves you — maddeningly so. and he realizes that it doesn’t really matter if you're not the one to fall first, as long as he can still have you.
“time out,” you beg, your fingers meeting the palm of your hand to signal a break. “my brain feels like it’s going to explode.”
“you just had a break ten minutes ago,” jeno reminds you, though there’s a lighthearted amusement to his voice that makes you smile sheepishly. “at this rate, you’ll be on more breaks than you’ll be taking the time to actually learn.”
“i’m trying,” you groan, your fingers curling against your forehead as you bump your head against your fist. “i just don’t think i’m cut out for this polynomial whatever — trial and error bullshit.”
“you’ll hate me for saying this — but you’ll never know unless you keep trying.”
“funny.” your sigh rustles the papers in front of you gently. “how do you do it, sunbae?”
“hm?”
“you’re not only good at this stuff, but you’re so good you’re able to take the time to teach people like me.”
“strengths and weaknesses — it’s the natural way of the world.” jeno smiles gently at you, and he notes how his chest feels tighter when you return the sentiment shyly. “i could never do what you’re doing in your own degree, try as i might. anyway, you’ll get there. i won’t let you become my first ever failed project, you know.”
“i wouldn’t want to let you down either, sunbae, but—” the back end of your pencil taps lightly against the surface of the table. “it just feels hopeless. i can’t focus on anything. it’s so… so abstract, and everyone here is talking all at once, and i don’t even know what i’m ever going to get out of this class in the long run.”
even when you’re dejected, you look pretty; your bottom lip juts out naturally when you whine like this, and for a moment, jeno can’t say anything in response. he’s too busy wondering what your mouth would feel like on his — on him. when he snaps himself out of his brief reverie, he notices you’re looking around at everyone else — and he has to agree that with the noise level in this whole building, it isn’t the most conducive site for learning, especially when the learner is already so averse to the subject matter.
“i can’t help much in the way of it being too abstract,” he says kindly. “but it’s not a requirement for us to have our sessions here. i know it can be quite distracting, all these voices flying around, so why don’t you look for a place that better suits you, and we can start meeting there instead? the more comfortable you are in your environment, the better you’ll be able to absorb the material, i’m sure.”
“you think?” your pencil comes to a slow halt as you refocus on him, a thoughtful light glimmering behind your gaze. “yeah — yeah, i actually wouldn’t mind that. then, i’ll look for a different place for us to meet, and we can start there next week. how does that sound?”
“whatever suits you suits me,” he responds easily.
he lowers his gaze immediately after you flash him a blinding grin; there are far too many people here, as you both very well know, and if he keeps looking at you and your pretty little expressions any longer, he might just give them something to actually look at.
it had been your idea, not his, so why did jeno feel like he’d dragged you into a compromising situation?
you’d texted him over the weekend that your search for a new venue had been absolutely fruitless; every cafe and study space you’d been to was either too expensive or equally as packed with people, if not both. jeno had seen the preview to your message, but he hadn’t been prepared for what it read out in full when he’d actually opened it.
sunbae, would it be too difficult to just meet at my apartment? i attached a map, so let me know!
it wouldn’t be too difficult; logistics-wise, it was walking distance from campus and almost directly across the train station he takes home. it also definitely promised an environment you were comfortable in, and you wouldn’t have to worry about excess noise from any other tutoring groups. no, the difficulty really only lied in himself — you two, all alone, would certainly mean his mind would be up to no good for the two hours every monday, wednesday, and thursday you would be together.
but for your sake, he’d try to rein it in, with the operative word being try.
your place is as neat and as pretty as you are; he doesn’t know if you’ve cleaned up for him, or if you’re naturally this organized, but he likes it all the same. it smells of toasted marshmallow and expensive perfume, and all your furniture matches. jeno supposes he likes that in a woman — someone able to care for herself, someone who cares about herself. and you’re always just as neat and pretty to match, with your hair always styled sweetly, your makeup always enhancing your features.
the problem is that now that he’s in here, where you live, and where you spend most of your time, jeno’s mind seems to wander too much towards thoughts about what you do in private. he rejects studying on the couch, not just because it’s bad for posture and concentration but also because he can’t help but imagine you pressed into the cushions by his hand. he suggests the small dining table you have, but on the second meeting at your place, he starts thinking about what you might look like seated on the table, your ass hanging over the edge and his face buried between your thighs. whenever you look up to ask him something, he drinks in your lovely, made-up face again, and starts wondering what your makeup would look like ruined before he interrupts that trainwreck of a thought with the answer to your question.
by the end of the week, jeno’s defenses are all but shot, and he realizes that this situation might be optimal for you, but it definitely isn’t doing him and his now constantly straining cock any great favors.
he supposes that your performance has somewhat improved; you’re less likely to trail off when you’re thinking and can actually do practice sets for a lot longer without all the noise and hubbub around you. your only real hindrance is yourself and your frustration; you have a habit of giving into your carelessness that sends you spiraling into despair, and it doesn’t help that when you press your cheek against the surface of your dining table and whine, the comfort jeno offers is noticeably delayed because he’s too busy thinking about his cock between your lips.
“my dad’s going to kill me if i fail this midterm,” you grumble, stabbing the practice sheet with your pencil; it skids sideways, and jeno robotically fixes it back into proper alignment for you, careful not to brush against the arm that’s folded inwards, supporting your chin. “he only agreed to let me take this degree because of the business aspect of it. as if i’ll need to know about—” you check the header of the worksheet. “domain and range when i’m doing actual design work.”
“you’ll never know what might be useful later on in life. i definitely thought this was nonsense back in high school — and then i got this job.”
“and now you’re rolling in dough?” you smile slightly. jeno chuckles.
“i’m a long way away from having myself a scrooge mcduck golden pool, but i make enough to get by very comfortably, thanks to this.”
“thanks to me, you mean.”
“you’re not my only student,” he snorts, pinching your elbow; you cry out exaggeratedly. “focus up. the hour’s almost over, and you should have finished with this much earlier.”
“can you leave it as homework?”
“not a chance.”
you blow out a sharp puff of air. “my mom used to do this thing where she’d give me rewards if i did well with my homework. i wish i’d still get something out of this.”
“what kind of rewards did she give you?”
“chocolates — candy, or sometimes we’d go out for milk tea together, if i did a particularly good job.”
“this is math tutoring, not a trip to the dentist,” jeno says, amused.
“a trip to the dentist would be more enjoyable,” you mutter under your breath, picking up your pencil and doodling an angry face next to the number you’re only halfway through solving. “this totally blows.”
“try to finish this before the hour’s up, and i’ll see if i can get you something nice. out of my own paycheck,” he stresses, prodding at your cheek to shift your attention back to the paper. he doesn’t miss the fact that your eyes light up, childish as the promise is.
he doesn’t know if that’s really what motivates you, but you do manage to finish the worksheet with a few minutes to spare before the clock hits seven, and that earns you some light, solo applause. it isn’t much by way of true praise, but you flush with pride all the same. jeno packs his things in silence as you get yourself a glass of water, and you see him to the door. only there does he notice your eager eyes, your expectant smile.
“what’s going through that pretty little head of yours?”
“are you really going to give me a reward? i did great today, you know,” you respond bluntly.
“you were serious about that?” he laughs.
“absolutely. i earned it.” you raise a slim finger, wagging it in his face. he trails it with his gaze, no shortage of amusement in his eyes. “next monday, i want something sweet.”
jeno takes in the sight of you, keeping your door open with your hip; he wonders if you know what you’re doing to him, what you’re asking of him — if you even know there’s nothing that could possibly be sweeter than you at this very moment. he drinks in the sight of your feigned haughty expression on your pretty features, the unnervingly low dip of your tank top, the tempting hemline of your shorts, and feels like you must be aware of what he’s going to do next.
“if it’s something sweet you want, you don’t have to wait until next week.”
he does it before he can think it through — surely, there’s nothing too harmful about a quick kiss? he angles your chin upward with his thumb and forefinger before you can even react to his words, and he tastes you like that for the first time. you’re just as soft and as sweet as he’d imagined, if not more so.
when jeno pulls away, you step back; there’s shock written all over your face, your mouth still hanging open slightly. your voice is gentle, shaky when you start speaking.
“sunbae, wha—”
“see you next week. rest up over the weekend, or there’ll be consequences.”
he finds it easy to joke with you now, even after what he’s done — finds it easy to wave goodbye with nonchalance as he walks to the elevator, now that he’s gotten one thing out of his system. the look on your face, the growing blush across the bridge of your nose and your temples is indication enough for jeno to feel confident — if you hadn’t thought about him that way before, you were sure to spend the next few days doing exactly that.
it’s exactly a week before your midterm exam, and jeno notices you’re less than focused.
he’d let you stew over the weekend, not expecting much by way of communication; indeed, his phone hadn’t once been jostled by your texts. he’d taken that silence to assume that you’d been wrapped up in thoughts of the kiss he’d left you with, and you did not disappoint on that front; the next monday saw you fidgety, flushed, and constantly faltering in your words. you asked less questions, which normally indicated a problem, but today, he’d let it slide; you definitely had a little too much on that pretty little brain of yours.
he notices you’re still dolled up — your eyelids are shimmery, and your lips are glossy; you’re wearing a tennis skirt that hits all the right buttons for him, too. it’s true that you’re always pretty well-dressed and put together, but today somehow feels different. if before, jeno had always seen you dressed up simply to look good, today it feels a little more like you’re dressed up to look good for him. he knows it’s a little bit egotistical to assume as much, but he also doesn’t miss the side glances you throw at him when you think he’s not looking at you answering your textbook or the way your cheeks glow when you make the slightest bit of eye contact.
still, you try to focus as much as you can; it’s adorable, in fact, to see all your valiant efforts to appear unperturbed. he figures he’ll play along for as long as you will — what matters to him, after all, is that you’re in the game to begin with. you complain less today, focus on your worksheets, and jeno even manages to witness the sight of your forehead creasing up as you concentrate on a particularly difficult item. you’re adorable, in the kind of way that makes him want to pin you down and have his way with you.
you finish your work without a fuss today; you only actually asked for his help twice, which was a feat in and of itself. and again, when the session is over, you walk him to the door.
this time, when you linger, he waits; you’re clearly not good at hiding your true intentions, as it’s become clear you have something you want to say. as you try to piece your thoughts together, jeno reaches into his backpack’s front pocket and extracts today’s gift — an actual chocolate bar, albeit a rather run of the mill one.
“what’s this?” you ask, your thought process clearly derailed as confusion takes over your features.
“your reward. for a good job last week and today — you said you wanted one, didn’t you?”
“but i thought—” you stop yourself, your mouth opening and closing, suddenly wordless. jeno grins.
“not good enough? i picked that up from a convenience store on my way here, so it definitely isn’t anything special, but i thought it would at least be a good motivator.”
you’re turning red, and there’s turmoil in your eyes — he enjoys this, he realizes, the way he flusters you. if he had known this would be the result, he would have made a move much sooner. you shift your weight from one foot to the other, back and forth, obviously weighing out your options too. finally, you say, “alright.”
“you seem disappointed.”
“i’m not.”
“i’ll get you a better brand next time, if you really don’t like it.”
“it’s not that.”
“so what is it?” he doesn’t expect you to say it, and you don’t defy expectations; your bottom lip just quivers, and jeno chuckles low under his breath, stepping forward just past your doorway, just a little bit closer to you. “don’t tell me you wanted something completely different?”
you don’t say so, but he knows; he can tell by the way you tilt your head back, the way your lips part slightly, the gloss still trailing along the seam. he can tell by the way your torso arches just a little bit closer, almost like an accident. he can tell by the way your eyes bore into his, almost pleading.
“what you did last week…” you start, but your voice trails off into nothing soon after. he chuckles again.
“ah, that. i might have gotten ahead of myself.”
“was that all?” you press.
“and what would you do, if it wasn’t?”
“well — do you always like to play games?”
“i have a penchant for playing with my food before i eat it, if that answers your question.” he smiles down at your still-reddening face. “i was giving you a reward, as you wanted. i came up short on options then and there. you’ll let it slide this once, won’t you?”
“you did that just because i did well last week?”
“of course.”
“well, i did well today, too.”
“you did, and that’s why you have this.” he gestures to the chocolate bar in your hand.
“i don’t want this.” your voice is stubborn now, heated and frustrated, and you stuff the chocolate back into his hand. you must not like having to ask for something so blatantly — it’s too bad jeno wants to hear it in those exact words.
“tell me what you really want, then.”
you’re still unable to find the words, but your hands do the talking for you; they press into his shoulders and give you leverage to tiptoe until you’re just close enough to his lips. but you don’t close that gap, your mouth quivering only inches away from his, and oh, jeno wants to toy with you, but you’re just too irresistible this close to him. his warm palms press against your jaw, keeping your face steady as he closes the gap, and this time, he doesn’t just get a brief taste of you — jeno claims your lips with the thirst of a man who’s stumbled upon an oasis in the desert.
you must have thought about this moment long and hard over the weekend, because the nonchalant side of you that’s turned a blind eye to him is completely gone; he drinks in your soft noises and short, breathless gasps — all signs of your eagerness — until he’s drunk on the taste of you. the deeper the kiss gets, the less you can keep up, but you try, and jeno always likes rewarding your efforts, his wide tongue taut and flush against your tiny one in the sweet, warm cavern of your mouth. he licks every inch of it, leaves the mild nicotine taste of himself there, before he pulls away slowly. your eyes are still closed when he creates distance, fluttering open in a happy haze a few seconds later.
“good enough for you?” he murmurs, tucking a soft lock of hair behind your ear. you hum in assent through your dazed smile, and jeno knows he won’t be the only one looking forward to this coming wednesday.
you’d done really well today.
jeno’s proud of you — prouder than he’s been of most of his students in his career here at the university, actually. you’d finally answered a worksheet almost perfectly, save for a couple of numbers where you’d forgotten to round up, and those things are absolutely negligible at this point (by his books, anyway). you’ve been on your best behavior yet, avoiding all forms of complaint, and he knows fully well why, but he won’t criticize you for your hard work all the same, no matter the motivation behind it.
in fact, you’ve done so good that he doesn’t wait until he’s about to leave to give you your sweet reward — which is why, twenty minutes before he’s meant to go, he’s got you on your couch, your legs spread, each one hooked over his shoulders.
truth be told, you’d been good way before the lesson had started; you’d answered the door in a crop top and the tiniest pair of shorts you’ve dared to wear yet — all clothes that you couldn’t yet wear outside yet, given the weather. selfishly, jeno is thankful for this fact, and if he had to list down other things he’s thankful for, just off the top of his head, it’s that you no longer meet in the tutoring center and that your apartment’s walls seem thick and well-reinforced.
“sunbae, don’t tease me.” your silly little whining voice makes its first appearance of the day, but all jeno does is smile — it’s an almost wicked expression, set firmly between your thighs. “you said i did really well today. don’t tell me you’re backing out on rewarding me?”
“not at all, sweetheart,” he hums, pressing a small kiss to your inner thigh. he likes seeing you shiver at the contact, likes the way you’re chewing on your lip in what appears to be slight agitation. “just thinking of how much of a reward you deserve.”
in all honesty, jeno would like to take every bit of you now; you’re already so ready for him, anyway. he can smell the faint perfume of your arousal, can see the way you’re anticipating the most from him, and a part of him doesn’t want to deny you of that. the larger part of him has dreamed of burying his cock into you, anyway, and why wouldn’t he do that? but something also tells him to wait — or, rather, to make you wait, to make you want him just a little more.
and so, he decides.
his mouth finds your skin again, pressing kisses up your thigh; they get wetter, hotter as his mouth moves up, until his nose and lips are buried against your clothed core. you squirm in response, but his grip on your thighs keeps you relatively steady, even as his tongue presses against thin fabric. the wet muscle pushes sharp against your tiny entrance, the tip meeting slight resistance against your shorts and panties, but he finds a way, burying half his tongue in alongside damp cloth.
you’re already wet like this, and so needy that it might be possible for jeno to get you off just like this, still clothed, but the hunger in him spikes once you call out to him.
“sunbae, please…”
with a groan, his fingers yank the fabric aside, exposing your pussy to the warmth of his breathing. it’s as pink, as pretty, as tiny as the rest of you, as fuckable as he’d imagined it would be, and he wastes no time in pressing his tongue flat against your folds, dragging it up in a wide, messy stripe; the muscle only tenses when it bumps against your clit, his tongue flicking upwards to tease it.
you’re so reactive, even at the slightest things — you whimper, you squeeze your eyes shut, you squirm. you’re begging to be fucked, and jeno’s cock is strained tight against his jeans, but your taste is so addicting that he can’t help but dive back in. his tongue eases between your folds now, spreading them apart until they’re lewd and sticky with his saliva, and the nub of your clit has grown so pronounced now — so pert and lovely that he can’t help but purse his lips around it and suck with excess force.
“sunbae — f—fuck,” you mewl; you almost sound tearful. “f—feels so good…”
jeno wants to tell you how fucking good you taste, how beautiful the sounds you’re making are, but his mouth is too busy; his teeth rake down your cunt lightly, earning him a jerk of your hips, and he has to place pressure down on your thighs again to make sure you’re still enough for him to slip his tongue into your cunt.
he can tell even just by that how tight you’d be around him; your walls are warm around his tongue, and there’s a pressure against the muscle that tells him how good it’d feel for his cock to take its place. as if to simulate his desires, he presses his tongue deeper in, fucks you shallowly with its wetness until your whimpers become little sobs, broken and choked back. his thumb drags across your slit then settles against your clit, and he can feel the thrum of your pulse against the pad of his finger, beckoning him. he complies, easily, thumb tracing circles around the nub that start off slow, only for him to ramp up the pace alongside his tongue.
you’re easily at fault for that; the way you whine for him, call him sunbae, tell him how good it feels over and over — why wouldn’t he want more of you?
he’s not sure which of you really earns the sweet reward today; you cum on his tongue, your cunt trembling against his mouth and your fingers threaded into his hair, but he’s the one who comes out licking his lips like he’s had the best treat of his damn life.
come the middle of next week, jeno finds himself face to face with a test paper — one already clearly marked, with a number circled on the top-right corner. ninety. a stellar grade for anyone, and especially for you.
you know it, and you look absolutely triumphant; you’re practically shining as you perch on your little dining table, your perfectly manicured finger jabbing at the score in emphasis.
“flying colors, wouldn’t you say?”
“color me impressed,” jeno replies smoothly, a genuine smile of pride tugging at his lips; he turns the page over, scanning your responses. you still draw your parabolas a little on the small side, making them a bit difficult to discern, and you’ve still got the habit of not rounding your answers up, but this is tremendous work, and he’ll be the first to praise you for it. “your dad must be filled to the brim with joy now, right?”
“i haven’t told him yet. you were the first.”
“well, i’m proud of you, sweetheart.”
“proud enough to give me a reward?”
he looks down at you in feigned thoughtfulness. here you sit, back in your little tennis skirt, looking up at him with hopeful eyes under those long, curled lashes. for someone who spent the first half of this semester acting ostensibly nonchalant, you’d very easily shown your true colors soon after — not that he really minds. in fact, he’s taken a decided kind of liking to how eager and willing you’ve come to be.
“we’ve only just started our session, though,” he hums out, an idle thumb grazing his chin as he watches your expression turn from bright to cloudy, the beginnings of strategy darkening your gaze. it’s not like he wants to say no; he has no real intention to. but seeing you squirm in want makes him feel good about his decision to hold out a little longer — never mind the ache in his cock even then. “don’t we usually leave the rewards for a later time?”
“i was thinking — since it’s the start of a new lesson —”
“we wouldn’t want you falling behind from the start, would we?”
“i promise i won’t,” you pout. “i promise i’ll put in my best effort next time.”
“next time? sweetheart, don’t tell me you’re thinking to get off scot-free today…” jeno trails off, his hand falling to the nearest surface it can reach — which, logic seems to dictate, is your soft, milky thigh. he feels you tense under his palm, and he bites back a smile, keeping his expression level. “i just don’t know.”
your small hands grip at the front of his shirt, and he hears you, for the first time, doing something he’s always wanted to hear you do.
“please, sunbae?”
how could he say no to you? he hadn’t really planned on it, had only wanted to see you do this, but it’s still too much and beyond his expectation — your misty gaze, your quivering lip. it’s almost laughable that you don’t think he’d notice the way you shift yourself so that his hand, still warm against your thigh, slides up your skin, the hem of your skirt bunched up in the junction between his thumb and forefinger.
jeno chuckles — isn’t this exactly where and how he’s always wanted you? “how could you ask me like that and expect me to refuse, angel? in that case, i have no real choice but to dedicate all our time today to your reward.”
your breathing hitches — in anticipation, in desire, in excitement — as his hand continues its trail upward, deliberately now, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties. his head dips down, rests into the crook of your neck, and he inhales the thick, sweet scent of your perfume, your shampoo, of you and all that he’ll take from you.
“just remember, you asked for this,” he murmurs against your skin. “so i’m going to take every bit of you until there’s nothing left for anyone else.”
you’re so willing, so ready even before he can get his full bearings; your hips are rising slightly off the table, and jeno feels like it’s you that’s telling him to move faster. he tugs down your panties, letting gravity take its course until they’re a tiny puddle of fabric on the floor, and he slots himself between your legs. like this, you have no choice but to spread, and you do so without hesitation, your knees locking against his sides as he pulls you in for a tight, hungry kiss. there’s that taste of you he loves, that clean, sweet buzz that draws him in, and his hands are bruisingly tight on your waist as he reclaims your lips.
you already look dazed when he pulls away, which is always cute, but a little unfair — jeno wants you to be aware still when he takes you, and damn, if he doesn’t want to take you right fucking now. he kisses you again, harder and more demanding, as if willing your attention back to him, while his hands explore you — run up your thighs, fingers brushing against the plush curve of your ass. it’s not enough, not by a long shot, and he’s pushing the waistline of your skirt up your stomach with his hands, letting his warmth transfer onto your skin; he chuckles as your stomach sucks inward at his touch, just as you let out a gasp against his lips.
and he wants desperately to hear that noise again; in fact, he wants to know what you sound like in every capacity. his mouth works down your neck, pleased to find that suckling wet and languid on a spot just above your collarbone has you writhing and whimpering. are you sensitive or touch-starved? whatever the reason, he wants to draw all of that out of you, his hands drawing back down to hook under your thighs. jeno drags you to the edge of the table, until your bare cunt is flush against the front of his jeans, and he lets you feel him — a brief tease of what’s to come.
“i’m s—so wet already,” you whisper, as if he doesn’t know — as if you know it’s exactly what he wants to hear anyway. “sunbae, please, i need you.”
“not that,” he murmurs, his teeth grazing your collarbone as he speaks. “not sunbae. jeno. call me jeno, angel.”
“jeno,” you exhale shakily, and it’s music to his ears — as if the last thing holding him back from you had shattered.
“that’s it — what a good girl,” he purrs, his hips rocking forward against your pussy before they retract, leaving just enough space for his hand to slip between. slender fingers trail down your folds, sticky and slick. “you are all wet for me, aren’t you? ready to take me deep inside?”
even the way you nod, a tiny movement of assent, drives him wild, yet a part of him still wants to test the limit of your patience, his middle finger stretching to circle your entrance.
“wouldn’t want to shock your tiny little pussy, though, would i? will you let me stretch you out first, kitten?”
“yes,” you mewl, sounding almost tearful. “anything— anything, please.”
jeno drinks in the long, drawn-out keen you set free when his digit sinks into you; he’s already felt your walls against his tongue, but a small part of him is still surprised at just how tight you are. that same part nags that he might not fit easily into you, but whatever that voice is is easily drowned out by a more assertive promise — he’ll make it fit.
“can’t tell you how much i’ve wanted to feel your pretty little hole around my cock,” he presses on, his finger pushing deeper in; he feels you tense a delicious kind of tightness, as if it’s almost too much for you. is it? “ever since that first day you came into the tutoring center, dressed up all cute — did you do that on purpose, sweetheart?”
“yes,” you admit, breathless; the syllable is lengthened into a weak moan as jeno pumps his finger into you, slow, deep strokes that tease your tacky walls open. “wanted — wanted to make a good impression…”
“and you did, didn’t you? kept looking so sweet for me, so pretty every single time — got me thinking about all the ways i wanted to have you. got me so fucking hard every time we’d meet — is that what you wanted?”
jeno doesn’t give you much room to respond, but he can make his own answers to appease himself anyway; he reclaims your lips, already eager for another taste of you, and you comply with the same amount of desire, your soft whimpers melting against his teeth. in the space of pseudo silence, wet, messy noises, he manages to tease another digit into you, and you cry out against his lips as it pushes in, joining the first in how deep it reaches. he absorbs that too, takes in every minute sound you make, relishes the way you pulse around his fingers. even without the noises, he can tell your pleasure’s heightening, with the way you clench around him, your hips rocking pitifully as you’re eager to rut against his palm.
“look at you now.” he’s selfish, but he doesn’t care — he wants to ruin you, and if the telltale squelch of your cunt as he fucks his fingers into it isn’t indication enough, then the way your mouth hangs open as he pulls away, letting his name fall freely from your lips, definitely is. “legs spread, all desperate to feel good for me. what a needy little kitten you are. this good enough for you, angel?”
you shake your head, only to squeal as he pulls you closer, his fingers shoving deeper into you; your hips are re-angled, allowing him to brush the pads of his digits against the rough, sweet spot, and he feels triumph bloom in his chest as you throw your head back, teary eyes squeezed shut.
“no, no, no,” you babble, and he can see the bob of your throat as you swallow hard, clutching at sense to make words. “want — need your cock, want to cum on your cock so badly, jeno — want you to fuck me, stretch me open, please —”
“greedy, aren’t you?” he murmurs, leaning in to nip at the spot he’d left reddened above your collarbone. “go on then — show me how much you want it. show me what a good girl you are, and cum on my fingers.”
“but—”
“come on, angel,” he urges above the squelching noises, increasing surely in volume. his fingers meet resistance when they spread apart inside you, but all it does is create a delicious friction that has you squirming in his hold. “don’t hold back. let me see you fall apart.”
and you do, so prettily, your eyes rolling back and your voice unrestrained. jeno’s fingers ride you through your orgasm, pumping deep and steady despite how slick you’ve gotten, your juices coating his hand and wrist. he watches the flush rise to your neck, stopping at your cheeks, watches the heaving of your chest, the shine of your skin from a thin sheen of sweat, and he doesn’t want to let you come down from this high, but his cock is aching — practically bursting from his jeans — and all he can do is make the silent vow that the next time you look like this, he’ll be balls deep in you.
“that’s my girl,” he coos gently, watching the tension slip from your shoulders; his free hand is at the small of your back quickly, easing you down as your torso falls back, and you’re laying on the table. “pretty little thing, aren’t you? cumming so sweetly for me.”
“jeno,” you groan out weakly, your tiny hand clasping around his wrist. “cock — i want your cock, please—”
“can’t wait?” he’s indecent for sounding amused, but even that does nothing to stay his arousal; how eager you are simply makes him want you all the more. “okay, angel — since you asked so nicely.”
a slight twinge of disappointment runs through him as he pulls his fingers out, but it’s quickly buried by the feeling he gets once he gives you a clear sweep of a once-over; how slutty you look, still half-dressed but already half-ruined, your thighs shaking in an effort to keep them open for him, the remnants of your last climax still leaking out of your hole. the sight of you has him so distracted that unbuttoning and unzipping his pants feels like a fever dream of an act; he barely notices what he’s doing until he’s already bare in front of you, and alertness has crawled halfway back into your consciousness as you push yourself up on your elbows to look at him.
“it’s so—” you have the decency to blush, though there’s a pleased look on your face that tells him you’re not really embarrassed. “i didn’t think you’d be this big.”
“does that worry you?”
“i’ve never had anyone… this big.” pride blooms in his chest — good, he thinks, because if he can’t be as memorable as your first, then he’ll take being the most in something as a prize. “i don’t think — will it fit?”
“does it matter?” he chuckles, and your blush deepens. “no matter what — you’ll take all of me in, won’t you?”
you chew on your bottom lip, as if considering your options, but to jeno, there’s really only one choice — the correct one, and you make it when you nod your head.
“it’ll feel good, though, you know,” he muses. his hand wrapped around his base, he lines himself up with you, the tip grazing against your folds. “even better than just now.”
with just a little more pressure, he has his shaft flush against you; his girth sits against your slit, the tip pressed against your clit, and he starts to rock his hips — into his fist, against your cunt. your hips quiver, and a shiver runs through you as your pleasure spikes again, but he can tell it isn’t enough. your bottom lip is back between your teeth, and your eyes are flitting between his face and his cock. jeno reaches out, eases your lip out from between your teeth, strokes it gently, almost tenderly.
“say it,” he commands in a soft, silky voice.
“fuck me, jeno,” you breathe out, barely missing a beat. “fuck me, fuck my pussy, please.”
and if you ask that desperately, he’ll waste no time; he draws his hips back, dragging his cock down until he’s aligned with your entrance. his eyes are trained on your face, even when he pushes in, so that he can take in your expression — the widening of your eyes as his tip breaches the first wave of resistance, the way your mouth falls agape as his fingers dig hard into your flesh. he’s never seen a prettier sight in his life.
“stretched you out already, but you’re still so fucking tight,” his voice is a soft, melodious croon, a stark contrast to the way he’s forcing past your tightness. “tight and wet, like a good girl.”
“so big,” you whimper, your fingers stretched far enough to tickle the front of his shirt. “can’t — can’t take it.”
“of course you can, angel.” jeno doesn’t give you the time to brace yourself fully before he’s rocking his hips in a little more sharply, his cock now halfway into you. your fingers curl into a little fist, immediately flying back to block the noise from your mouth. “ah ah. don’t get shy on me now; you’ve been so noisy for me all this time.”
but he doesn’t really mind the way you clap your palm over your mouth to muffle your high-pitched squeal as he thrusts in fully, the adjustment period after the last movement close to nothing; he’s too busy focusing on how good you feel around him, how warm and wet your insides are. this is heaven, easily, and jeno wants to stay here for as long as he can.
“god, you’re fucking tight,” he repeats, an appreciatory gaze running over where you’re joined. his thumb stretches over your folds, rubbing them — something of an apology, perhaps, although all it does is stimulate you more, and you shiver at the extra contact. “how deep is it, baby?”
“can feel you here,” you mumble out, your small hand pressing just above your pelvis. he feels the tightness multiply as you place pressure, even just for a moment. “your cock’s so much deeper than anyone else.”
your hand falls away, limp, as he draws his hips back; you inhale, long and deep, before letting it out as a broken moan when he pushes back in. it drives him crazy, to start off this slow, when all he wants is to find a pace that has you sobbing, but the resistance of your pussy against his length isn’t easy to ignore. jeno works you open, his jaw set and his grip tight against your frame, and it isn’t long before he’s picking up speed, the slap of his flesh against yours fueling him exponentially, mingling with your cries, steadily increasing in volume.
“that’s it. let everyone hear you,” he eggs on, his thumb now circling tight around your clit; your legs are quivering, threatening to close, but he keeps you steady, one arm wrapped around your thigh. his thrusts grow rougher, more deliberate, and when he looks up from where you’re joined back to your face, he sees your expression as a mixture of incredulity and ecstasy. a thin line of drool hangs from the corner of your mouth, your pretty pink lip gloss smeared, and fuck if he doesn’t want to make sure you look like this every single time he comes over. “let them know who’s fucking you good, angel.”
“j— jeno!” your voice hitches, lilts up as he presses in at a different, deeper angle, and he almost cums right then and there from the way your walls pulse around him. “your cock feels so good, fucking me just right— more, god, more—”
he complies without hesitation, gathering both your thighs and pushing them closer to your chest; you look even lewder like this, folded in half with your sopping cunt presented to him like it’s all his to take, and it is, isn’t it? there’s an increase in the intensity, the vigor in which he pumps his cock into you, and he knows he’s brushing repeatedly against your spot by the way you’re blubbering his name out in a way that suggests you sincerely think no one else in this building can hear you.
“that’s my girl,” he hums approvingly, though there’s a thickness in his voice that has him sounding a little more strained. “such a good girl, with your cunt all nice and sloppy for me. do you like it when i go this deep? does it feel good when i fuck you where no one else can?”
“yes!” you sob out, your hands crumpling the end of your skirt up into tight fists. “jeno, i— cum, i need to cum again, please—”
“i’ve got you, kitten,” his tone is reassuring, a stark contrast to the rigor of his hips. “don’t have to hang on for me, you know; always love seeing you fall apart.”
“m’close, so close —”
“let go, then,” he urges, his blunt nails digging into your flesh. “let me feel that sweet cunt cum on my cock.”
you comply without hesitation, though if you’d done it willingly, he can’t really tell; he has to pin your hips down to stop you from bucking up and causing him to slip out, and you writhe against him as you sob in ecstasy, your walls fluttering before they clench. stray tears leak from your eyes, squeezed shut, and jeno wants nothing more than to eat you up like this — broken, fucked out.
you’re not even fully down from your high when he feels it — that sudden wrenching in his gut that tells him he’s about to follow suit. with a low groan, he peels your thighs apart again, lets you watch him as he bullies straight into your leaking hole. your voice is a staccato, punctuating every deep, sharp thrust into you, and it’s exactly to that melody that he wants to get off.
“tell me where you want it, angel.” he doesn’t trust his voice, sharp and short as it is now. “should i mark your pretty face? your stomach?”
“want it against my pussy,” you whisper out, and jeno almost loses his mind as he watches you spread your folds apart with your forefinger and middle finger, inviting him. “make a mess of it, sunbae.”
he’s barely able to pull out before he’s spilling against you; he ruts against your slit, coating your folds and the insides of your thighs in thick, creamy white. you hold your legs apart for as long as you can until they start to tremble, and he catches them and gently eases them down.
when you sit up to kiss him, you’re still demanding; he feels your hips rock closer, your sticky cunt pressing against the underside of his cock.
“not enough,” you murmur against his lips, and jeno chuckles as you bind your hands around his neck.
“don’t worry, kitten,” he hums back. “we’ve got all afternoon.”
#jeno x reader#jeno x you#jeno scenario#jeno scenarios#jeno imagines#jeno drabbles#jeno imagine#jeno drabble#jeno smut#nct x reader#nct dream x reader#nct dream x you#nct x you#nct drabbles#nct dream drabbles#nct dream imagines#nct imagines#nct scenarios#nct dream scenarios#nct smut
488 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Cost of Flesh
18+ 4.9k the ghoul x f!reader. gif credit.
dirty talk, vaginal fingering, clothed/naked, finger sucking, grinding on a cowboy boot, cooper's busted anatomy forces him to get creative, body worship, lightly established dynamic, surprisingly sentimental.
a prompt from @tearueful that got wildly out of hand. thank you, friend! 🖤
When what starts off as a purely sexual arrangement with the Waste's most notorious bounty hunter–the ghoul–gradually grows into a living, breathing love, you're both forced to confront the inevitable humanity that comes with sharing your body with another.
There’s a living myth that walks the wastes, a figure known exclusively as the ghoul. He’s enigmatic, a force of nature that declares himself to the world with his every step. If you're unaware of sharing a room with him, it’s likely because he’s hunting you, in which case it’s not a matter of if he catches you, but when.
Naturally, it was the talk of the town when he made a regular haunt out of the saloon you worked in.
He watched you serve drinks all evening, his gaze a physical thing upon you. Normally you expected a degree of harassment from clientele, raiders and the like often rolling through, but it was as though everyone else sensed his attention on you as much as you did. You could tell from the tilted angle of the wide brim of his hat when he was listening to your conversations.
It was as eerie as it was intriguing. You couldn’t fathom a bounty on your head, so what did he want?
You would soon be ensnared by him, but not for a bounty. It was for pleasure. Your pleasure.
“Come upstairs with me,” He murmured in your ear, standing close behind you, a gloved knuckle rolling up your spine. “Y’ain’t gatta do nothin’. I won’t hurt’cha none. Just wanna hear a pretty bird sing.”
You shivered, caught unaware. You never even heard his approach, even though the din of the bar had quieted in the late evening.
“I’m not for sale,” you replied, testing the water. He was close enough that you felt him, but not so close you were pinned. You could move if you wanted to.
“I ain’t buyin’,” he gave back. You could feel the heat of his breath on your neck. “But I’ll make it worth y’while.”
The gravel grit of his voice was nearly drowned out by the drumming of your own pulse in your ears. To this day, you don’t know what possessed you to agree, but you did. He took your hand in his, the leather of his glove soft with wear, and led you away from the bar. The next thing you knew, he was stripping you bare in one of the dark rooms above the bar.
The ceremony with which he undressed you had felt disconcertingly like meal prep. He tied your hands above your head, and your heart thundered with the understanding that there was nothing to stop him from devouring you alive where you lay sprawled out on the bed.
By the time his gloved hands were dragging away your underwear, you felt dizzy with the heady mix of arousal and fear, an unquiet ache thrumming between your thighs. Your only meager assurance was that of all the legends you’d heard of the ghoul, seducing and eating barmaids wasn’t among them.
And yet devour you he did. You were hooked from that very first wet, hot slide of his tongue against your clit. He spent hours with you that night, mapping your body with his tongue, your scars and blemishes serving as waypoints and constellations. He nipped and sucked until dark marks blossomed under his tongue, and he relished those spots more than any other.
He never took off more than his gloves, and he never let you touch him. He never fucked you. He brought you to climax with his mouth and his hands so many times you lost track of the number. All you could do was writhe and moan your pleasure. He didn’t stop until those moans turned to sobs, until you begged him to. After that, he cut your binds loose and left you a mess on the bed, aching and used.
You laid there for a long time, thinking you would never see him again.
The ghoul returned not a week later.
He wasn’t subtle about what he wanted from you, beckoning you from across the bar with a crook of two fingers. You felt your knees weaken with the memory of those same fingers in your mouth, your cunt, that hand pinning you by your throat to feel your cries against his palm. He stared at you from beneath the brim of his hat, cocked his head. You nodded, and his eyes flashed.
Hungry.
You didn’t learn his name until your third encounter. He whispered it in your ear.
“Now scream it for me, sweetheart.”
You did.
The two of you would meet several more times. He would stay a little longer after each session, and bit by bit, you would come to understand the man beyond the ghoul. He doesn’t talk about himself, and he doesn’t ask anything of your life in turn, but he reveals himself in pieces nonetheless. Beneath the ruthless pragmatism of his legendary persona, you find the manners of a shockingly tender gentleman lurking.
He’s always unhurried in disrobing you, devoted to the task at hand: taking you apart piece by piece. He treats each article of frayed clothing like a piece of paper that might tear if he pulls too hard. He makes the process of being undressed in and of itself feel like sex, every move intentionally sensual.
For you, the experience ranges from thrilling to maddening depending on your mood that day. He never heeds you, always keen to take his time regardless of your impatience. He takes a particular kind of enjoyment in your body, the likes of which you’ve never known. You’re certain he knows it better than you do at this point, and yet he’s never laid himself bare to you. Never let you bring him the kind of pleasure he brings you.
He’s never kissed you.
“Please. I wanna touch you, too,” you tell breathlessly, knelt between his legs, naked as sin. His focus breaks, gaze snapping to yours. You lick your lips, relishing the rare feeling of catching him off guard. You slide your hands up his thighs, inching towards his groin. “Taste you. Make you twist. When’re you gonna let me, huh?”
He catches your wrists as quickly as a viper strikes, holding you still for a long, tense moment. You hold his gaze without any of the fear or reservation you’d felt that first day.
Despite the warmth that’s grown between you in the time since that first night, you’re uncertain of what exactly the two of you are now. It would be romantic to think of this feeling in your chest as love. Certainly it is intimacy. Familiarity. What is love if not consistency? Perhaps it’s like masonry. Steel against stone, and the conscious choice to change something as immutable as solid rock.
For as long as he chooses to come back to you, to find his pleasure in you, is that not love? If it isn’t, it might just be the closest you’ve ever come to it.
Dumbstruck for a moment by the tenderness in your gaze, Cooper’s own drops to your hand, lifting it to his mouth. His grip is tight, but not painful. As he does with everything else, he takes his time answering.
“Won’t do much good, darlin’,” he says, folding your hands wrist over wrist. You perk up. He’s never given a proper explanation for why he seems to have no interest in your reciprocation. From his belt, he withdraws a length of rope and begins encircling your wrists. You allow it, the ritual a familiar one. “Plumbing’s long busted, but that don’t mean I don’t enjoy myself. Enjoy you.”
Like the final piece of a puzzle falling in place, understanding dawns. His initial use of you drops perfectly into context. It was like you were more an object to him than a person, a vessel for him to exact sensation upon. You understand now that that’s exactly what you were. Be it the radiation or the myriad of drugs he takes to keep the degeneration at bay, it’s likely just one more piece of him the Wasteland has stolen.
“Oh.”
“Disappointed?” He asks, fastening the rope with a sharp tug that shoots a hot throb between your thighs. If he’s apprehensive about your answer, he hides it well. If they still made movies, he’d make for a fine actor.
You pause, giving the question the thought it deserves. “Not exactly. Maybe a bit,” you say, struggling to articulate the feeling. “Kind of relieved, though. I didn’t know if you couldn’t, or just didn’t want to,” you admit, leaning into it when he brings his palm to the side of your face. Your lips part automatically for the brush of his thumb along them. “I just want to do more.”
Cooper’s gaze softens, the line of his mouth twitching in what almost looks like a smile before it’s tampered by a profound sense of sadness. However, it disappears as quickly as the smile that nearly was. His expression smooths back out into controlled focus.
“So do more,” he says in that molasses drawl, thick and sweet. It could be your imagination, but his voice sounds warmer than it did a moment ago. “Put on a show for me.” He widens the spread of your legs with the press of his boot to your inner thigh. “I got plenty ‘a things for you t’ride.”
He lifts the worn leather to the wet heat gathering between your thighs and you shudder, lashes fluttering. His boot sinks back to the ground and you follow it, grinding down against the leather with a soft sigh of pleasure. He hooks his fingers through the tether around your wrists and draws you forward by it, his knee pressing between your breasts, your bound hands resting on his thigh.
“Don’t take much t’get you moanin’, do it, sweetie?” He baits, mouth curved in a crooked smile. You roll your hips with a soft keen, shaking your head. You were already tingling all over from the slow way he’d undressed you, and now that ache is growing rapidly into thrumming need. He whistles lowly. “All that noise for a li’l friction.”
He bucks his boot against your cunt, wringing a cry out of you. You screw your eyes shut, clutching at his pant leg while you roll your hips, embarrassed by how right he is. Everything he does is electrifying, and his honied voice in your ears helps turn the curve of his boot into the most exquisite touch you’ve ever known.
With his teeth, Cooper tugs off his glove and touches your cheek with warm, rough fingers. His bare thumb hooks your bottom lip, easing it open until you taste the salt of his skin pressing down on your tongue. “Or just didn’t want to…” He echoes through a frayed laugh, sounding equal parts amused and wistful at your words on his tongue. “Y’got no idea what I’d do to this sweet mouth if I could.” He presses his thumb deeper, watching with dark eyes as you start to suck. “What I’d give t’see how pretty you cry, chokin’ on my cock.”
He paints such a pretty picture that you long for it, too. Releasing his thumb with a breathy sound, you open your mouth. “More,” you say, your breaths shallow. “I want more.”
His own chest is heaving with each breath, his tongue caught between his teeth. He slips two fingers into your mouth, pushing them all the way to the knuckle. You both moan with it, pressure creeping slowly up your spine. He rocks his fingers in and out, and you start to match his pace, grinding against his boot as fast as his fingers fuck your mouth.
Catching on, he kicks his pace up a notch, captivated by the pull of your lips, the shimmer of your saliva on his weathered skin. You can see it in his eyes, how he loses himself in your pleasure as if it’s his own, filling in the gaps with faded memories. He pushes in a third finger, teeth raking over his bottom lip. You push your tongue between them, over them, sucking and lapping as if it really is his cock in your mouth.
“Fuck, darlin’,” he hisses, pulling sharply on your bindings. You make a noise around his fingers, so close to the peak of release that your lungs begin to seize, throat quieting. It’s pure agony when Cooper abruptly hauls you up onto your knees, halting your ascension. “C’mere,” he growls, all grit and throaty need. His fingers slip from your mouth and he manhandles you up into his lap, bringing you into a straddle over him, your bound wrists thrown over the back of his neck.
The same fingers he had halfway down your throat now move between your thighs, pressing into your slick, yielding body with two wet fingers in one deep push. You groan, the burning ache of it so good your eyes roll back. His free hand skirts up the length of your torso to the underside of your breast, kneading soft flesh with a rough hand. Then, so quick all you can do is gasp, he pushes the weight of it upward, meeting pearl-soft skin with lips, tongue and teeth.
All the while his fingers sink deeper, moving faster. He adds a third and you strain against your binds, arching your back, pressing your chest into his hungry mouth. He scissors his fingers, determined to make you feel every inch he fills you with.
“C-Cooper…” You keen, shivering for the hot slide of his tongue over your nipple, how he sucks it into his mouth.
Pulling off with a wet pop, he drags his tongue up the line between your breasts, greedy for the taste of you. “Shh, shh,” he hushes, already teasing a fourth finger. His breath is hot on your damp skin. “Just a little more, you can take it,” he says, pressing his thumb to your clit, rubbing circles to soothe the burn of being filled so suddenly.
“I can’t, I can’t,” you protest, nails biting into your own hands, eyes screwed shut.
“Y’already there, sugar,” he rumbles, each word rougher than the last. He’s right, you’re seated in the crook between his thumb and index finger, so full of him that your thighs are trembling from the strain of it. He rocks his hand slowly, fucking you deep, crooking his fingers until a sharp jolt of pleasure makes you shudder. “Doin’ good, takin’ everything I give you. That’s it. Go on, pretty bird. Sing me a song.”
Your eyes meet, both bleary and wild. You could lose yourself in the darkness of his gaze, and given his insatiable hunger, you know he would swallow you whole. You moan for him, sing his praise with the breathlessness of your voice, with the sway of your hips as you pick up his rhythm. He nods absently, watching you with such voracious wonder, you feel beyond yourself. Half human, half embodiment of pleasure.
The meteoric rise back to the cusp of your climax feels like flying, your stomach tightening, the velvet walls of your cunt throbbing and squeezing his fingers so tightly, you feel their every slide.
You come hard on his fingers, crying out just before the height of your pleasure seizes you. Cooper watches every second of your release, his own lids flickering, though he never blinks. He slips his arm around your body and pulls you to him, naked skin pressed snug against leather and tattered fabric. You collapse into him, held up only by his grip and the tether binding your hands around his neck.
He holds you through the aftermath, savors every last wet quiver of your cunt around his fingers. His thrusts slow, but he doesn’t stop until–in a quaking breath–you beg him to. His fingers settle in deep, lingering a moment before he slides them free. The relief of escape from overstimulation is rivaled only by the awful emptiness that his fingers leave in you. You clench your shaking thighs on either side of him so that he might understand.
Stay.
Either he understands, or he simply isn’t through with you. His gloved hand slides up and down your back, thumb brushing the back of your neck on every upward swipe. Before long you hear a decidedly wet slurp, and you lift your head from his shoulder to look at him through euphoria addled eyes.
One by one, Cooper licks every one of his slick fingers clean, purring his approval. “Not even decades of radiation poisoning can erase the taste of good pussy,” he says, voice low and lazy. “And this, darlin'? Gourmet."
You smile, heat rushing up your chest to your cheeks. “I think you have an addiction,” you say, a slight slur to your words. You roll your fingers, which tingle faintly, the rope taking its toll on your circulation.
He clicks his tongue, hands settling on your hips. His hands are warm, and his touch erupts goosebumps up your spine. “Y’say that like it’s a problem. Gonna cut me off?”
“As your dealer, it’s in my best interest to encourage said addiction,” you say, cocking your head. Up close like this, focused only on each other’s eyes, it’s easy to forget he’s anything other than a man. His eyes are beautiful, the color of sand in that fleeting hour of sunset that turns the whole world gold. Not even the hole left from the decay of his nose takes away from the beauty of them. Truth be told, you find the whole of him entirely too handsome. “Besides, I find myself similarly afflicted.”
His lips split into a slow smile. “Y’somethin’ rare, darlin’. Fine company’s scarcer than clean water these days.”
Another wave of heat washes through you, but this time it concentrates in your chest, coiling around your heart and squeezing. “You’re just not used to talking to people who know how to read,” you say, trying and failing to swallow back the sentimentality swelling in your throat.
He chuckles. It’s a rare sound, one that does nothing for the growing affection suffocating your heart. “True, true.” He already admitted that the way you spoke is what caught his attention in the first place.
“Say…” You begin, hesitant. “You remember what I said to you when we first met? Down in the bar.”
Gently, Cooper lifts your arms from around his neck, setting your hands between your bodies. He blows out a breath and starts untying your hands. “I’m old, sweetness. Refresh my memory.”
"I told you I wasn't for sale," you remind him, blood rushing back into your hands with the removal of the rope. You rub them together.
He makes a small noise of recollection, winding the rope around his hand. “Y’did.”
“I’ve changed my mind,” you say, watching him carefully.
His gaze flickers up to yours, searches your expression. He can tell you’re guarding it, and his own sobers in response. “Dare I ask the cost?”
"Love,” you blurt out, far more graceless than you’d been in your mind. His eyes widen a fraction, caught off guard. In any other moment you’d be smug about that, but now it’s precarious. Whatever nebulous sentiment exists between the two of you, you know it’s fragile. “Love. Yours, or just… mine. The cost is love.”
“Y’don’t love me, sweetheart,” he says, but the gentleness of his words does nothing to dissuade you. It only worsens the yearning in your heart.
“You don’t get to decide that,” you say, a frown tugging at your lips.
He’s quiet for a moment, gauging you. “Y’don’t know me.”
“You let on more than you think you do,” you counter, hands braced on his chest. “I might not know everything about your life, but I know you.”
You know he read westerns and science fiction novels written by a man named Louis L’Amour, but confessed to liking his poetry best. You know the variations in his smiles. You know the sound he makes when he gets up from sleep, stiff-limbed and weary. You know him in intimacy. You know how he craves peace and grace in the warmth of your body. If blinded and deafened, you would know his touch.
Whether he likes it or not, you know him the way souls know each other.
His eyes drift away as if he’s leery about you seeing anything more than you have. “What you’re lookin’ for, y’not gonna get it from me. I’m burnt out, darlin’. All dried up.”
“I’m not asking for more than you’ve given,” you say, trying not to let the terrible ache in your chest color your tone. You could scream at him for how wrong he is. How much left of him there is to love. “I’m telling you that I have more to give, and I want you to have it.”
“I wouldn’t even know what t’do with it anymore,” he says, gazing somewhere distant.
You wish he’d at least look at you as you bled your heart. “Nothing you haven’t already done, if that’s what you want.”
“Then why say anything at all?” He asks, an edge creeping into his tone. He does finally look at you, the lines of his expression as guarded as they were the first day you met him. “If y’didn’t want t’change things, why say anything?”
You stiffen to keep from shrinking away. You want this too badly to let him spook you now.
“So that you know,” you say, choosing your words carefully. Each one feels sharp on your tongue, too honest. Too vulnerable. You’re giving him too much power with each one that falls.
“I’m telling you so that you know I love you. I’m telling you because if I don’t, I might explode with it,” you say, fervency climbing in your voice, spurred on by the beginning sting of rejection. “I’m telling you for me. Is it easier to accept my love if it’s selfish?”
There it is again, that flicker across his face. Whatever he expected to hear, it wasn’t that. Slowly, Cooper removes his other glove, dropping it to the wayside. With that same hand, he brings his knuckles to your face, ghosts the heat of them down your cheek.
“Y’deserve better than half measures from a broken old man,” he says so quietly, you strain to hear each word. “Most of me’s always gonna be out in the sands, lookin’ for what’s lost. That’s no life for you.”
Taking his hand in yours, you hesitate a beat before you start to place gentle kisses on his every first knuckle. “Maybe. Maybe not,” you say between kisses, not meeting his eye yet. You’ve never been quite so openly affectionate. “But it’s like you said… Fine company is scarce,” you say, kissing each second knuckle next. “Don’t deny me the best I’ve ever known.”
His smile is reticent, tugged from the corner of his mouth as if by an invisible string. There’s something wistful in his expression. He watches you kiss the pads of his fingers next, the prints of them long worn away and replaced with thick calluses. His thumb is last. You give it a playful little nip, lest the softness of your lips scare him off.
Cooper slips his hand out of yours, the wistfulness of his gaze replaced with somber resignation. “M’sorry, darlin,” he murmurs, cupping either side of your face.
Your stomach drops, the bitter stench of a goodbye settling into the air between you. You remind yourself that you knew this might happen. You repeat the thought again and again, as if being right will make it hurt less.
His thumbs stroke over your cheeks. “If I were a better man, a stronger man,” he says, gaze dipping to your lips. “I’d walk away for good.”
Your brows furrow. “Wh–”
He kisses you with such gentleness it breaks you apart. Your hands fly to his jacket, holding him to you. It’s as if the entire world spins on its axis, your stomach flipping wildly with it. It leaves you floating, tethered only by the grips you have on each other. What begins as a chaste press quickly heats up into a gnawing hunger, his tongue slipping into your mouth, your teeth scraping his bottom lip.
“Lucky for me that I ain’t even a good man,” he says, words peppered between kisses.
The world spins again, but this time you really are moving through the air. You let out a yelp as Cooper flips you onto the bed, kissing a trail down your naked chest. You’ve felt his tongue and his teeth, but never the reverent press of his lips. As if you’ve only just given him permission to see you as something more than a tool for vicarious pleasure, he touches your body the way a superstitious man worships–full of intent and genuine belief.
“Cooper,” you sigh, smiling. “It’s my turn to touch you,” you remind him, tugging at the shoulder of his tattered jacket. The most he’s ever taken off is that jacket and his hat, but you want more.
He looks up at you from between your breasts, hesitating a beat. “You should know that it only gets uglier ‘neath the collar, sugar.”
“You’re not ugly,” you tell him. At his skeptical expression, you continue, “I’ve seen ugly. Heard it, felt it. You’re not ugly. Not to me.”
He quirks a hairless brow and lets out an incredulous little breath, adjusting himself onto his knees between your legs, swayed. “Y’might consider glasses,” he tells you, shrugging out of his coat.
You hook your legs over his and use them as leverage to sit up, reaching for the buttons of his vest. “That might not end well for you,” you say coyly, popping each one loose.
“I’m used to it,” he says, leaning down for another kiss. This, too, is reverence. He takes his time, savoring the feel of your lips against his, licking the taste of you from them like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever known. With his vest open, you work on his undershirt next, tugging them loose while sucking on his tongue.
Halfway down, he stills your hand with a firm grip on your wrist. “That’ll do,” he tells you, voice little more than a rasp. You bite back a protest and nod, understanding that this is likely more exposed than he’s been in a long, long time. You push back into the kiss and press your hand to his chest, sliding slowly down.
The skin beneath is as gnarled as old tree bark, pitted in places and scarred in most. For as durable as ghouls are, Cooper’s skin has been shredded and torn and riddled with bullets enough times that parts of his body have taken hold of those memories forever, formed around them.
You treat them gently, tracing them with your fingertips. You feel unreasonably powerful when he shivers subtly beneath your touch. You press your hand flat to his heart to hold the beat of it in your palm. It’s slow, but each thud is strong. You break from him with a deep breath, dizzy from the way he makes your head spin with each kiss.
“Lie down,” you say breathlessly. You’re almost surprised when he does, unaccustomed to taking so much control. You cozy up against him, laying your head where your hand had been a moment ago, and close your eyes. His heartbeat sounds just as it felt. Steady, firm, slow. You imagine the radiation has scarred him inside and out, left his heart thick and misshapen as well. Alive nonetheless.
After a brief hesitation, Cooper’s arm slips around your waist. His thumb caresses your hip. “For what it’s worth,” he begins, his tone overly conversational, masking whatever true feeling lurks beneath. “I won’t hold you to none of it. Not if y’get sick of it.”
If you get sick of him, he means.
You tip your head back to look up at him. His gaze is affixed to the ceiling, but you can see apprehension in his distant expression. You drop your eyes, nuzzling your cheek against his chest. His hand cups the back of your head in response, stroking. You smile faintly, soaking in all these little affections. You wonder how long he’s been holding back from touching you like this, denying himself such simple intimacies in order to maintain a distance he didn’t feel, but deemed necessary.
“You’re wrong, Cooper.”
“‘Bout what?”
“You are a good man.”
He goes quiet at that. The two of you lie there a long while, his hands absently roaming your body like he’s committing you to memory. Your hands do the same, dipping under the hem of his shirt to explore further. He hooks his knuckle under your chin, tips your head back to kiss you languidly.
There’s a surreal domestic feel to the unhurriedness of it all, as if he won’t be gone to the winds come morning. You make a home of this moment in your mind, constructing four walls in which to imagine another life. The kind you’ve read about in tattered books and seen on fuzzy old screens.
All the while Cooper holds you, his lips never long from your skin.
You eventually find your way under the covers together, past the point of words. You drape yourself back down against him, your ear finding the chamber of his heart once more. You fall asleep listening to the beat of it, content for now to take each day you spend with him as they come.
#the ghoul x reader#the ghoul x you#cooper howard x you#cooper howard x reader#cooper howard#x reader#fallout fanfic#the ghoul
365 notes
·
View notes
Note
omg omg I have a request, jealous!reader being “jealous” of bsf!rafe for bringing another girl over and taking her to his room, like reader was used to it but had enough because of her crush on him
yess omg this w/ jealous kook trio reader !! <3 shes a lil bitchy too hooray !
you think you'd had just about enough of this.
after months and months of being rafe's friend, you thought you were used to the seemingly endless flow of girls that constantly wandered in and out of tannyhill, the druthers, even his truck.
in fact, you'd never felt any specific type of way about it. rafe was your friend, and him hooking up with every girl on this side of the island used to be a couple of things—mostly gross, a little disturbing, sort of annoying. the girls he hooked up with were always clingers, and rafe sometimes would abandon plans with his friends to get laid.
which was completely normal. you wouldn't expect anything less from a guy like him—until you started to get mad about it.
you can't pinpoint when it happened, but somewhere in between the two back-to-back dates of yours rafe crashed, that one guy at the beach party who was happily chatting you up one moment and gone by the next, and a cute boy's number that had somehow been deleted off your phone, you started to get annoyed.
yes, rafe seemed to have some kind of problem with you dating. yes, he hadn't ever said as much. no, you didn't really have any proof proving your suspicions. but something was going on that you couldn't quite pinpoint, and then, before you knew it, something was going on with you.
when had it become so unbearable to watch rafe with one of his girls? you used to turn to kelce and top and make faces, pretend to hurl watching them in the distance. you used to cuss rafe out on the phone for ditching dinner or the movies or a sunset boat ride for some girl he just met. you used to think it was funny, not... painful.
so now, watching rafe chat up some girl when the boy you had just been flirting with was nowhere to be found, you can't understand why you feel like this.
like your throat is closing up watching rafe lean in to hear her better. like you want thunder to strike this girl so she gets away from him. like everything else in the world has just disappeared, with just you, your best friend, and your best friend's new girl remaining.
"are you fucking deaf?" kelce snaps at you, and you finally turn your head away from the pair.
"shut up," you snap right back. "i wasn't paying attention. what?"
"we gotta take this fucking bum home. you coming or not?" you turn, expecting a fully drunk topper laying on a couch or passed out on the floor somewhere. instead he turns to glare at kelce.
"you're a dick, you know that? no really, kelce-"
"why are you acting like there's a stick up your asses, huh? what's going on?"
"oh, i don't know," topper says sarcastically, and kelce joins in with a snicker. "maybe because we've been talking to you for a fucking hour and you've been ignoring us the entire time."
oh. you hadn't realized you'd been so oblivious.
"if you're that worried he's gonna go home with her, then why-"
"shut up!" you say again, with the words coming out loudly, in a rush. some heads turn to look at you. your friends laugh, but you can't join in. you huff out a breath, jaw clenched and perhaps a touch more angry than you'd thought you were. "why would i care if he went home with her?"
"i don't know and i'm way too drunk for this. you coming or not?" top says, though kelce stares at you much too knowingly.
you glance back—though you really shouldn't—watching rafe and the girl laughing at something together. anger trickles over your skin, seeping into your body all too quickly, making everything burn inside you. they start walking up the staircase together. you turn back before your head blows straight off.
"no. rafe said he's driving me home. so he's fucking driving me home."
kelce and topper laugh but you can't focus on that right now. you head up the stairs, though rafe and the girl are out of sight. you even catch sight of the boy you had been talking to earlier—and he turns and sprints in the other direction when you meet him eye.
even more angry, determined that rafe should get a taste of his own medicine tonight, you run up the stairs, pounding on closed doors and opening them up. you catch two couples that you really wish you hadn't before you finally get to the room that rafe is in.
of course he's in the master. prick.
it takes two slams with your fists and one attempt to shake the doorknob so hard you think it's gonna fall off for him to open up.
"what the fuck are you-" rafe stops the second he sees you. "kid, what the hell?"
you open your mouth, shoulders tense and face twisted in anger, ready to give him an earful when you look back, seeing the girl sitting on the bed and rafe with his hair a little messed up.
you're not just angry anymore. you're infuriated.
"sorry to interrupt," you say, looking at the girl waiting in the back. "you said you'd drive me home. i'm ready to go home."
"kid i'm a little busy here-"
"yeah? i was busy too. i was talking to a nice guy but after thirty seconds with you he won't even look at me anymore."
"that doesn't sound like-"
"well it is. he was gonna take me home, but you interfered. so it's your problem now."
"can you just-" interrupting rafe again, though you know you shouldn't, you butt back in to finish his sentence before he can.
"no, i'm not waiting five minutes so you can finish up."
"excuse me?" rafe makes a face like he can't believe what you just said.
you look back at the girl.
"sorry, sorry." rafe relaxes for a second. "two minutes."
he closes the door, and you hear him say something you can't really make out. a second later, he comes out and shuts the door behind him. grabbing your wrist, he leads you out of the house and back to his truck, and it's not until you're sitting in the passenger seat that he speaks again.
"you wanna tell me what the fuck that was about?"
#i reuse the same tropes and ideas everytime im so sorry haha#not proofread sorryyy#kook trio reader#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader
227 notes
·
View notes
Text
THE UNNOTICEABLE ; HAJIME IWAIZUMI
🏐 : ̗̀➛ hajime iwaizumi doesn't expect much when it comes to girls, but he thinks he might've finally found one thats out of his best friends reach.
CONTENTS // fluff / light angst / jealous iwa / i switch between iwa, hajime, and iwaizumi a lot so i hope that doesn't bother anybody / some cursing?? idk this is mostly fluff // 1.3k
PAIRINGS // hajime iwaizumi x fem!reader
A/N // I watched the haikyuu movie yesterday and it was so good icl... I wanna write for kuroo now he's so sexy. i tried out a different header theme for this one and I honestly like it more than the other one idrk. anyways enjoy this little drabble 🩷.
// MASTERLIST .
HAJIME IWAIZUMI has always been the less noticeable friend.
It's not like he doesn't get attention. He gets plenty of that. But when it comes to girls, or anything in the dating category at all, most of them flock to Tooru.
He doesn't resent his best friend for his popularity, Hajime just wishes girls didn't come up to him to get closer to his friend.
Him and Tooru are grabbing fast food after practice and a girl approaches him as he sits at the table he chose for him and his teammate. Tooru is in line, probably flirting with the girl across the counter as he orders for him and his best friend.
Iwaizumi feels a little pathetic for hoping that she's going to ask about him. That maybe, just maybe, he might be getting a chance for once. He gets his hopes up, only to be completely shut down when she asks for Tooru's number. He thinks she might notice the light in his face dim, but she doesn't acknowledge it.
"You'll have to ask him. Not sure if he wants me giving out his number to randoms." He says as he turns his attention away from her, a lousy attempt to hide his annoyance.
She nods understandingly, "W-well, thanks anyway." She stammers a bit, her voice small and nervous.
He stops assuming so much when girls approach him after that, always prepared to slide his friends socials and move on with his day.
So, when you approach him, obviously a bit hesitant as you clutch your sides and stare at him nervously, he doesn't even let you speak before he starts spouting his friends socials.
"Huh?" You ask a bit cluelessly, and Iwaizumi looks over at you.
"You're here to ask about Oikawa, right?" He says, staring down at you. He's obviously confused, a thick brow raised as he eyes you.
"N-no..? I wanted to talk to you." You reluctantly say, and he tenses up. You don't even spare a glance at Oikawa, who's entertaining a few girls a few meters away.
"Me..?" He asks, surprised.
"You." You respond, dead serious.
The puny sparks of your attempt at conversation light a wildfire in Hajime's weak heart. The small talk you try to make forms into real, genuine talking.
Although, even when you ask for his number, he can't help but think you might be trying to get close to him just to get with Tooru as he types in his number.
He doesn't tell you that he thinks you're playing him. And even if you were, you would've already had him beat because it's barely been two weeks of talking and he's already wrapped around your finger.
Hajimes lack of need for attention wasn't something you acknowledged at first. You thought it was natural because not only was this his first time talking to a girl, but it's your first time being the one approaching. You don't know what guys like unless they tell you, so you just do what you think is right.
And then you came to the subtle realization that maybe he's not desperate because he doesn't expect much from you. Is he toying with you? Was the first question you asked yourself.
On the other hand, Hajime doesn't expect much because he thinks he knows how this goes (he doesn't).
Hajime respects Tooru. And usually, he wouldn't add a but to that, but... he is willing to go to any lengths possible to keep you as far away from him as he physically can.
He knows how his friend gets with crushes. He'll either do everything in his power to completely embarrass Hajime, or he'll flirt with the girl and make her realize that maybe she doesn't like him as much as she thought.
That's his version of a loyalty test. Take the girl he likes around his best friend and observe her reactions to everything he does. So, that's exactly what he does with you.
Hajime had no idea that you've already met Tooru many times before. You light up when you see him, and Iwa can already feel his heart shattering into a thousand pieces. And then, to put the cherry on top, you go in for a hug. You're even on first name basis, no honorifics or anything. He might aswell lay in his coffin early, because watching you hug Oikawa is the closest to dying he's ever been.
You look over at Iwaizumi to see him glaring daggers at the two of you, a green eyed monster taking over his body as he scowls. Your smile drops, and you wonder what he looks so mad for.
"Are you alright, Iwa?" You ask obliviously, tilting your head and taking a step towards him. His eyes land on you, and they soften ever so slightly.
"I'm fine, don't worry about me." He responds, blinking softly.
And for the rest of the day, all you do is worry about him. The pain on his face and the damp look in his eyes whenever he looks at you interacting with Tooru.
When the two of you go back to his place that afternoon, he asks to talk.
Iwa starts, "Is there something wrong with me?" He asks. You're taken aback, but you can tell he's serious by the look in his eyes. He looks hurt.
"Why would there be something wrong with you?" You ask, reaching over to grab the hand at his side.
"I just-" His voice cracks, and you want to fall to your knees right then and there. Hajime is about to cry and you don't know what to do.
The lump in his throat grows bigger the longer he stares at you. "Why didn't you tell me you already knew Oikawa?" He asks, blinking back the tears that threaten to spill like water from a faucet. He didn't exactly mean to ask that, but he thinks it's much better than 'I thought that maybe for once someone might like me, but as always they go to Tooru.'
"What do you mean? I thought you knew?" You ask, oblivious to the thoughts running rampant through his mind. Your grip on his hand tightens when a tear breaks past the defenses he's put up. You want to ask what you did wrong. You want to ask why he's crying. But the lump in your throat from watching his sadness grow and grow is unbearable, keeping you from asking for some much needed clarification.
"Knew what?" He asks, unable to think of anything rational or any kind of explanation for this other than you're interested in Oikawa.
"Me and Tooru grew up together- He's my cousin." You say, eyeing him confusedly and sadly.
Iwaizumi pauses. A wave of embarrassment washes over him. He was getting jealous over your cousin this entire time?
The night you met Hajime, Tooru invited you, his cousin, to get drinks. He must've forgotten to clear this information with Hajime because now he's standing in front of you, his deep eyes wide and filled with tears of anger.
"What? Did I do something? Are you okay?" You begin asking questions profusely, and Hajime just stares at you.
And then he begins laughing.
You're confused at his sudden change in emotion, the humorous chuckles leaving his mouth catching you completely off guard. "Hajime, what's going on?" You ask as he brings you into a relieved hug.
"For a second there I really thought you and Oikawa had something going on." He responds as he places his head on top of yours comfortably.
You audibly gag. "Are you serious?! This entire time I thought you knew I was his cousin!" You say into his chest. He tightens the hug, a deep laugh leaving his lips.
"Man, this is so fuckin' embarrassing." He laughs, and you can't help but join in.
"Like I'd ever choose his annoying ass over you anyways."
And suddenly, the unnoticeable Hajime Iwaizumi feels seen for the first time in forever.
© AAJXS
#iwaizumi hajime x reader#iwaizumi hajime#iwaizumi x reader#haikyuu iwaizumi#hq iwaizumi#iwaizumi fluff#hajime iwaizumi#hajime iwaizumi x reader#iwaizumi hajime x you#iwaizumi x you#haikyuu#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x you#( 📝 aajxs — written works . )
205 notes
·
View notes
Text
Not Quite Soulmates
AzrielxReader
Summary: Azriel introduces you to his family when your mating bond snaps... Just not with him
Warnings: light angst?
Word Count: 1.1k
You stare at your reflection in the mirror, trying to decide if you liked this dress better than the last one. You had been seeing Azriel for the better part of six months, and tonight you were going to meet his family for the first time. You smile, thinking back to when you had first met the Shadowsinger.
You had been at work, shelving books on the top shelf, when suddenly the ladder you were standing on broke and you fell. You had expected to hit the ground, only to be caught by Azriels strong arms instead. Despite that being like something out of a romance book, it had taken Azriel some time to get you to go on a date with him. It wasn't that you hadn't been attracted to him, you absolutely were. But you had been unlucky in love, and convinced yourself you were destined to be alone.
He would come into the store and ask for recommendations and then come back to talk about the book with you before asking for another recommendation. This went on for months before eventually you had asked him out when one of your coworkers had said she would if you didn't.
And now, six months later, you were so glad that you had. You couldn't imagine your life without him in it.
You're drawn out of your thoughts by arms wrapping around your waist and a kiss pressed to your shoulder.
"You look beautiful."
"Yeah? I wasn't sure if I should wear this dress or the purple one." He presses more kisses across your shoulder and up your neck. You smile, tilting your head to the side as he does.
"Definitely this one. I have a... Very fond memory of this dress." You laugh, knowing exactly what very fond memory he was thinking of. You had worn this dress to dinner before taking him to your bed for the first time.
"Keep it in your pants Azzie. We'll have plenty of time for that later tonight, after dinner."
He takes a step back, sighing, holding his hand out for you. You take it with a smile, and he leads you out the door.
It's a nice late summer evening, so the two of you walk to the River House. He stops you just outside the door, eyes sparkling with mischief. "It's not too late to back out, we can always head back home and I can come up with an excuse."
You shake your head, laughing. "You have been putting this off for far too long already. Either you're nervous, or you're trying to get me naked."
"A bit of both." He admits.
"Well too bad, because we're going in. And you're going to have to deal with all of your favorite people ganging up to tease you." He laughs, shaking his head and leads you inside. The two of you head for the sitting room where everyone is mingling before dinner.
Azriel leads you around the room, introducing you to everyone as he does. You make eye contact with the long haired Illyrian you assume is Cassian, the brother Azriel has told you so much about. Azriel starts to lead you over to him and you freeze, eyes widening. A mating bond has snapped into place, but not with your boyfriend. No, it snapped into place with his brother. And going off the look on his face, it snapped for him too. You both curse at the same time, drawing attention from the rest of the room. Azriel looks at you, his expression asking what's wrong. You have two options. You can tell them what just happened, or you can run. You choose the latter, running out of the sitting room and down the hall, out the front door. You follow the Sidra, paying no attention to where you’re going.
You run until you trip over a rock, tumbling to the soggy ground next to the river. You lay there, looking at the stars, slowly starting to dance across the sky. Perhaps you could move courts, because you certainly couldn't continue to date Azriel. Not without rejecting the mating bond. And you can't stand the idea of living so close to your mate and not being with him. Yes. You'll move courts. As you lay on the river bank, imagining which court you'll move to and your new life there, Azriel lands nearby, calling out your name. You sit up and look at him, biting your lip. “Azzie… I…”
“I know. Cassian told us everything.” He sits next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and you lean against him.
“I guess this means we have to break up…”
“Because you want to be with him?”
“Because I would have to reject the bond to be with you. And you could never look at me the same way again knowing I'm the reason he's in so much pain.”
“And you want to be with him.”
“Why do you keep saying that?”
“Every single romance book you recommend was about mates. Even the ones that weren't romances, if they happened to have a relationship, they were mates. You want a mating bond.”
“I don't want to hurt you.”
“It will take some time, but I'll be okay.”
You lean away so you can look up at him, but his face is blank, unreadable. You frown, pulling your knees up to your chest and wrapping your arms around them. You hate when he does this, shoves all signs of emotion away, leaving you unable to tell what he's feeling.
“I don't want to lose you.”
“I don't want to lose you either. I'd rather have you in my life as a friend than not at all. Take some time to wrap your head around it if you need to, but you should get to know him before you make a decision.”
You nod. “I suppose I won't run away to the Summer Court then.”
“What?”
“Before you got here I was debating leaving for another court. I was thinking about the Summer Court.”
Azriel shakes his head. “Rhys and I had to talk Cass out of running away to Windhaven. The two of you are ridiculous.”
You stick your tongue out at him. “I think it's a perfectly reasonable reaction to the situation.”
He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, standing and helping you up. “I'm taking you back before you can convince yourself running away is the best option again.” He picks you up, holding you in tight as he takes off, flying back to the River House, back to your mate, breaking his own heart.
A/N: I have plans for what's essentially a happier part 2 with Cassian and also I'm sorry I love Azriel and I want him to be happy but I haven't written anything happy for him yet oops. Feel free to send in requests! I won't be posting this week, but I will still be writing!
#azriel x reader#azriel x you#acotar#acotar fic#acotar fanfiction#acotar imagine#acotar x reader#acotar x you#maasverse#fanfiction#imagine
202 notes
·
View notes
Text
Testing the limits
Hard Dom Spencer Reid x Wife!Reader
18+❤️🔥 MDNI ‼️
Saw someone say they needed a mocking Spence saying”aw you just want me to give you some attention” and came up with this 🥵
You cross a line in an attempt to get Spencer’s attention.
TW: Hard Dom Spencer, choking, squirting, restraints
You pace back and forth in front of the door to Spencer’s home office. He had been in there for four hours at this point. After working a full day! It was admirable, his work ethic. But often left you feeling neglected.
An hour ago you knocked and he said “just a minute.”
You knew he wouldn’t be out in a minute. You also you knew you weren’t to go into his office. Something about the classified files in there and what not.
You push the door open to see him with his face still in a file at his desk. He didn’t even look up at you.
“I need more time,” he said dismissively.
It had been exactly 15 days since he touched you. Eight of which he was gone on a work trip, the rest were like this. Home but now home.
You knew what marrying him entailed but times like this when you got so wound tight, it was hard.
“Spencer,” you whine and stomp your foot.
He glanced up from the file briefly to see you standing there in one of his shirts with the buttons open and a thong.
“My love I have to get this done,” he asserts.
You pad away. You needed another plan. You would get him tonight before he worked so hard he fell asleep without so much as a word to you.
For a while you make considerable effort to stomp around upstairs above him, to clash pans in the kitchen, and blast music to get him to at least acknowledge you.
Finally you make a decision. You look back into his office to see him pacing behind his desk, on a phone call. Hotch from the sound of it.
You had a feeling that what you were about to do would get you punished. But you would take a punishment over the absence of him. Seriously, you were so pent up that the mere friction from your panties could make you moan.
He doesn’t see you stroll into his office as his back is turned. You pluck the three files off of the desk and make a break for it. He hears you scurry away.
“Hotch let me call you back,” you hear him throw the phone on his desk.
You make it upstairs and hide the files in a bookshelf in the library before running to your bedroom.
“Y/N you know better,” he calls as he approaches the bedroom.
Your heart hammers, you bite into your lip and pull yourself further under the bed. Excitement courses through you as you see his converse enter the room.
“Poor thing, so desperate for attention,” he mocks and circles the bed. “Pretty girl, I can hear you breathing,” he tutts.
When he reaches one side of the bed you scramble out of the opposite side. He takes long strides to the bedroom door and slams it closed before you reach it.
He was pissed, but he looked so fucking good. The top two buttons of his purple shirt were undone, it was only partially tucked now, and his hair was a mess. His eyes trailed over your mostly naked body as he chewed on his lip.
“So attention starved?” He steps slowly towards you. His deft fingers start to undo his belt buckle causing your cheeks to heat.
“Answer me,” he snaps the belt out from around his waist in a swift motion. You swallow hard.
“I missed you,” you look at him with wide eyes.
“‘I missed you,’” he mocks with a laugh as he shakes his head.
Oh yeah, you had crossed a line.
“Where are the files?” He folds the belt in his strong hands. You shake your head ‘no’ and don’t break eye contact with him.
One thing most people don’t expect about Spencer, is for him to have extremely refined needs sexually. He’s a sadist. You can see his heart rate increasing in his throat as you defy him.
He needs to inflict pain on you, for pleasure of course. You work well with him because you can take anything he dishes out. You get off on the pain, on watching him find pure elation in hurting you.
“You don’t scare me,” you huff, deciding to full send since he’s so far gone now.
You dart for the bathroom which is joined to another room entirely. The room you wanted him in the most.
You hear his calm and collected footsteps enter the room where you keep all of the toys for moments like this. He grabs you by the back of your neck and turns you towards him. You can’t help but laugh.
“I see now. It’s not just my wife that misses me, but my little whore,” he brings the belt down and it clashes with the backs of your bare thighs. You yelp and he pushes you further into the room.
“I need you,” you whimper and look up at him through long eyelashes.
He grips your throat hard, sending pulsing need to your clit as he backs you up against a wall.
“Where are the files?” He asks again, his mouth near your ear now.
“Not until I get what I want,” you pout and reach for his crotch. He seizes your wrist and pins it to the wall.
“Fine,” he huffs.
He reaches upward and brings leather cuffs down which are suspended to the ceiling above.
He suspends you there, your ass just barely touching the cherry wood wall behind you. This room, all fine crafted wood, soft carpet, and many surfaces for fucking. You had designed it together. You loved it.
You watch him move over to a rack of toys and grab a spreader bar, ah shit.
He latches each side to your ankles and spreads you as wide as your legs will go. You’re barely on your tip toes now.
He slowly unbuttons his shirt as his eyes darken, you watch him shift into the headspace you want him in. A primal look in his eyes that makes your mouth drool.
His shirt falls free and his slacks hang low on his hips, giving you a view of his perfect body and his hard cock straining against his pants. You whimper but you can’t move.
He brandishes a wand with a wicked grin and turns it on.
He approaches you but he doesn’t touch you at all. He won’t give you the satisfaction after what you did. He brings the head of the vibrator wand to your pussy and presses hard. You let out a restrained moan and try to move but you can’t. The raw sensation overwhelming, and you can’t close your legs around it.
“Fuck!” You scream as your body starts to shake. “Please,” you’re begging him to touch you. You need him.
He shakes his head as he watches you take it, his mouth agape. Your climax is building, winding painfully tight in the pit of your stomach. Your moans turn to screams and then…
He pulls away. You deflate in the restraints and glare at him.
“Where are the files,” he demands.
Your body is on fire, shaking with need.
“You’re not cumming until I know,” he crosses his strong arms. You shake your head, stubbornly.
“Fine,” he brings his belt up and wraps it around your throat.
It’s loose at first, the belt buckle allowing it to act as a slip knot. The long part of the belt hangs down your back.
He yanks it hard and it tightens around your throat. You fucking love it, you struggle to breath until your vision darkens and the he releases it. You gasp for air just as he brings the wand back to your throbbing pussy.
“Please,” you howl and then he pushes the wand harder against you as he tightens the belt once more.
Again, you reach the precipice of your orgasm and he stops, allowing you to breathe too.
“Fuck, Spencer!” You grind out.
“That wasn’t a safe word. And I still don’t know where my files are. Tell me. I’ll make you cum like the slut you are if you just fess up,” he taunts as he drags the head of the vibrator over your nipples. Arousal drips down your thighs.
“The library, one of the bookshelves on the left,” you pant at hang your head.
He gives you a cocky grin but drops to his knees before you.
He kneels between your legs and stares into your eyes. Then he’s sliding his tongue into your cunt greedily until you’re crying out his name. You try to rock against him but the restraints give you no leverage.
He presses the wand against your clit as he angels himself better to tongue fuck your pussy.
“Fuck!” You scream which prompts him to grab the belt and tighten it.
The sensations are too much, too good. His face is buried in you, the belt chocking you, the wand massaging your clit… you can’t even see straight as you violently begin to shake.
You erupt and you know you’ve squirted. He releases the belt just as your vision blackens and allows you to scream. He discards the wand and grips your hips as he sucks on your pussy like it gives him life. Your cum is pouring down his chin and chest below you, making his skin glisten.
Fuck, he’s so beautiful.
You could never get enough of him.
“Such a good girl for me,” he kisses your forehead as he carries you to bed. “Rest now,” he whispers as he tucks you in.
You almost protest, wanting to have sex but your body is limp with exhaustion from the edging and the orgasm that followed.
He disappears to the library to retrieve the files and return to work.
#spencer reid#mgg#criminal minds#mgg pics#dr reid#spencer reid one shots#spicy spencer reid#spencer reid one shot#spencer reid ai#dom spencer reid#Spencer Reid smut#spencer reid hot#matthewgraygubler#matthew gray gubler
202 notes
·
View notes
Text
SLYTHERIN GUYS - MOST-TO-LEAST LIKELY TO FALL IN LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT | ✧⁺。
Note : AHH I WAS SO EXCITED TO WRITE THIS ONE , I got this as a request in my messages and loved it !! It's my first mtl so I hope y'all like it and if you guys do then I'll probably do more of these 🤭🤭 Also i ranked them first and the reasons are written down in the same order they are ranked :)
Pairing : (mattheo , Tom , theodore , Lorenzo , Draco) x reader
Warnings : cursing , a bit toxicity ? mention of killing in one part
Most likely ↑
Lorenzo
Theodore
Draco
Mattheo
Tom
Least likely ↓
。 ✧ REASONS ⁺ 。 .
1. Okay starting with Lorenzo I just feel like he's a very fluffy , very poetic , knowledgeable guy (my bros a nerd🤓-) . He really understands and observes people , sometimes it can be a bit stalkerish but eh doesn't matter because it's not like he's one with good intentions , he's in slytherin for crying out loud ? But in the process of this if he sees you and you are exactly his type which is exactly like him then BAM!! You're his new obsession . He thinks he's very smart but he's just gullible in my opinion.
2. Theodore nott . Guy who is just as romantic as he is monotonous . I just feel like because he wasn't loved that much by his "family" he seeks it out where and offcourse he likes pretty girls . So if you're caring , outgoing and basically just pretty he'll fall in love with you very quickly . I also kinda feel like he's a bit naive in those things - like he's the type to date a girl he liked at first sight and if she's not good / cheats on him / acts like she's his mother - then he'd break up and become a manwhore . Still very much up on the list to do it again .
3. Draco seems like a lovesick puppy to me solely because he's never recieved any love properly except for his mother which doesn't really count but whatever. He'll probably fall in love at first sight if you're badass but that doesn't mean he'll admit it ? He'll bully you to get close to you then somewhere between just admit due to too much pressure and teasings from his friends . Don't expect him to apologise tho , i know we're all wise enough for that . And please don't be in gryffindor and dream about a malfoy , like seriously please .
4. Mattheo in my opinion is just a born manwhore so he's not most likely to fall in love at first sight . I just see him hooking up alot but then again there's a chance he might if you're different to him than other girls. But I also feel like he'll mistake his love as a challenge and just blow the whole thing out 😭😭 Plus point if you're a slytherin and you're flirty , that could definately grab his attention and make him fall in love with you and GOD FORBID if you also smoke then you'll probably be married to him .
5. You are either on weeds or highly delusional to even think this man is capable of falling in love . Or you've just read too many fanfictions lmao . Tom is super hardworking and overall a very work oriented person so i don't think he interacts with girls much ? Only to connections that can help him , so yeah he's the least likely one . Forget about frst sight , even a love potion won't make him fall in love . Also I feel like even if he DOES fall in love which would be impossible , but if he does then he'd either ice out the poor girl , kill her or force her to marry him . There's no in between "trying out" bullshit here .
。 ✧ ⁺ 。
TAGLIST : @sugarcandydoll @helendeath
#🕸️✧⁺。jiho's masterlist#🕸️✧⁺。slytherin boy's work#🕸️✧⁺。harry potter's work#slytherin boys x reader#slytherin boys#yandere slytherin#slytherin x reader#slytherin boys smut#harry potter yandere#harry potter x reader#yandere harry potter#harry potter smut#tom riddle x reader#tom riddle smut#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheo riddle smut#theodore nott x reader#theodore nott smut#lorenzo berkshire x reader#lorenzo berkshire smut#draco malfoy x reader#draco malfoy smut#harry james potter#slytherin boys react#slytherin boys x you
86 notes
·
View notes
Text
Say Don't Go
Evan "Buck" Buckley x fem!reader
summary: tensions rise between you and Buck as you find out that he works for you uncle and he learns you're Bobby's niece, forcing the two of you to make a decision on where your relationship stands
word count: 3k
part one
Buck could not believe it. The first woman he was attracted to in months was Bobby’s niece? He really was always getting dealt a shit hand. He was going to ask you out on an official date and bring you flowers and shower you with compliments and make stupid jokes to make the both of you less nervous. He supposed now that it was only a pipe dream. And all because you were related to his boss.
“Bobby, I didn’t know you had a niece,” Buck spoke up, trying to seem nonchalant, as if he didn’t feel like he was going to throw up. And he did, the idea of running to the restroom sounding real inviting.
“She’s my sister’s kid,” Bobby replied, pulling you into his side in a protective manner then pointed at the man. “Don’t get any ideas, Buck,” he said with a wink, but the threat seemed very serious. Too bad the ship had already sailed and was on the verge of sinking.
You eyed Buck and shook your head as if to tell him to not come any closer. You wanted to speak to him about the whole situation, but you couldn’t without everyone noticing that the two of you had disappeared and jumped to their own conclusions. You were going to have to meet on your own time to avoid suspicions. Especially Bobby’s.
The man had become very protective of you since the day you were born and would continue to do so until he took his last breath. Since your father was never in the picture, he felt the need to step up and be exactly what you needed. He was there for everything: your first steps, helping you ride a bike without training wheels, your first date. Yes, he sat in the back row of the movie theater, watching the two of you like a hawk, making sure the kid didn’t try anything.
Bobby would not have been happy if he found out that Buck had even looked at you in a flirty manner let alone slept with you. It wasn’t that he didn’t think that Buck wasn’t fit to be your boyfriend, but more like any man wasn’t fit for the role.
You eyed Buck practically the entire time but tried not to draw attention to yourself as you did it. Tension was rising and you really hoped that no one else could see it. Especially since you were the guest of honor and couldn’t fade into the background like you desperately wanted to.
“Everyone,” Bobby stood behind you, resting his hands on your shoulders. “This is my niece, y/n. And I expect you all to welcome her as an honorary member of the 118. She’s going to be here for a while. Y/n, this is Hen and her wife Karen,” he pointed to the Black woman who was standing next to Buck. She gave you a hug and you were quick to return it. “And Buck and his sister, Maddie.” You looked at Buck and didn’t miss the look on his face as your eyes glanced at him to look at his sister. His face was white. Almost as if he had seen a ghost. You ignored it for the moment and tried your best to listen to Bobby’s introductions of his team. “And that’s Chimney,” Bobby gestured to the Asian man who was on Buck’s other side. Oh, you so had to hear the backstory about that nickname. “And Eddie and his son, Christopher.” You turned your attention to one of the most beautiful men you had ever seen and a young boy who was using crutches.
Hugs were all passed around as you were introduced and you all mingled as you sipped on your drinks, waiting for dinner to be ready. You got into a conversation with Maddie about nursing, but you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander to her brother who had been in what looked a deep conversation with Eddie. You couldn’t help but feel like word about your night together was somehow going to get to your uncle and you didn’t even know why you cared so much. You were an adult now and really had no reason to hide to from Bobby. Maybe he’d be a little upset at first, but he’d come around.
“So, that’s the girl you hooked up with the other night?” Eddie asked, holding back a laugh. It was just too good, almost like the plot of a telanovela he’d watched with Christopher. Of course something like that would have happened to Buck. That sounded exactly like something that would have happened to him.
“Yes,” Buck nodded.
“And she’s Bobby’s niece?” All Buck could do was glare at Eddie. It was almost as if he wasn't listening at all. And for once, this was a very serious matter. His life was doomed as he knew it and Eddie was just laughing it off as if it was all just a big joke. And Buck supposed that maybe it was.
“Yes. Weren’t you listening?” He was now on edge, for whatever reason, feeling paranoid that Bobby had been listening even though the man was all the way across the room joking around with Michael.
“Hey, relax," Eddie pat his friend's shoulder. Sometimes Buck just really needed to relax. "I’m just making sure I’m getting the facts right. I can't believe that out of all of the people in Los Angeles that you slept with Bobby's niece. Oh, Chim is gonna get a kick out of this."
Eddie burst into laughter, really getting a kick out of his friend's pain, but he couldn't help it. It was all just too funny to not laugh a little at the unfortunate events of his friend's life. He was just happy that he wasn't in Buck's shoes.
“But you're not gonna tell Chim," he gave Eddie a warning look. "This secret dies with us. And I swear if you tell Bobby-" Both of the men knew that whatever threat came out of Buck's mouth would be empty, but Eddie wanted to know what would have been in store for him if he had broken his promise.
“You’ll do what, Buck?” He crossed his arms over his chest, tilting his head to the side in curiosity.
“I don’t know, but It’ll be bad.”
“Sure, whatever you say, buddy." Eddie gave his shoulder a pat as Bobby had everyone gather around before they all sat down to eat.
“Alright, everyone dinner is served and before we sit, I’d to make a toast,” Bobby spoke up and you could see his eyes getting misty already. “The moment I held you after you were born, I knew that you’d be destined for greatness,” he started and you knew that his speech was going to be a tear jerker just like always.
“I remember when you were three and insisted on fixing my “wounds” with your little doctor’s kit that I had gotten you for Christmas. You told me that you were going to be a nurse and save lives and look at you now. You graduated nursing school and got a job at your first choice hospital. I’m so proud of you, kiddo. So, if everyone would raise their glasses.” Everyone did as they asked as Bobby raised his own that was filled with soda. “To y/n,” he said.
“To y/n,” everyone repeated and they all clinked their glasses together before cheering, giving you a round of applause. After the excitement died down, everyone sat down at the table, the only spot available being the one to the left of you that Buck was reluctant to occupy.
“Oh-“ he said, cutting himself off and everyone was quick to turn to him. To them, it was just the only available seat. To you and Buck, though, it was more than that. If he sat next to you, the awkward tension would only rise and Buck really didn’t want to make it all about him when this was your party.
“You can sit there, Buck,” Bobby told him. “Y/n doesn’t bite.” Buck’s mind immediately flashed to a couple of nights ago when you had done just that. When you had actually bitten him and been the cause of the healing hickey on his neck.
“Yeah, Buck,” youpulled the chair out for him to take a seat. “I don’t bite,” you winked, a joke just between the two of you. Buck hesitantly sat next to you, being very obvious unlike you. He might as well have just told the entire table that the two of you had slept together while he was at it.
“So, y/n,” Hen spoke up. “What’s your position at the hospital?”
“Labor and delivery,” you told her. You always loved the idea of bringing new life into the world and after doing a few residencies and following nurses around who did just that, you knew that was the career for you.
“That’s so admirable,” Hen smiled warmly. Just from what Bobby had told her about you, she was sure that you were going to do really well in the medical field. That you were a hard worker and never took no for an answer. “I’m sure you’re going to do great.”
“Well, thank you. And thank you, Robert, for this amazing celebration,” you gestured to the all of the nurse themed decorations all over the main level of the house and even out on the patio where you were all sitting.
“That was actually all Athena,” Bobby corrected, feeling like he should’ve let his wife take the credit for all the hard work she put in to make the house look nice.
“Well, thank you, Athena,” you turned to the woman she nodded enthusiastically, wanting you to know just how much she enjoyed planning the entire thing for you, knowing that it meant a lot to Bobby because of how close he was to you.
“Of course,” she replied. “It was my absolute pleasure.”
You looked around at everyone sitting at the table and despite not knowing most of them, you felt but nothing but loved sitting at that table, discussing everything and nothing as you all ate the meal that Bobby prepared for you all. You had felt alone your entire life, only having Scarlett, your mom, and Bobby as your family and now all of the people he had been closest to were welcoming you into their world with open arms, and you couldn’t help but feel more lucky.
You hesitantly turned to Buck and noticing him picking around his plate, the dish almost full signifying that he hadn’t really eaten anything. And you didn’t blame him. You hadn’t much of an appetite either considering the whole situation and for a second there, you completely had forgotten about him. It seemed that neither of you had the best luck in the dating apartment, so of course, as fate would have it, you couldn’t be together. Or more like shouldn’t considering the whole situation. It would have just been weird and awkward and maybe it would have just been for the best if you just left it at a one night stand.
Dinner came to a close and by the end of it, you were all sharing funny stories from your careers and just from the one meal you had with them, you knew you were going to enjoy spending more time with them. Maybe if you asked Bobby, you all could have had more meals together like you had heard they did at the 118. You would have really enjoyed that. You were really looking forward to having a real family.
The members of the 118 all lingered at the door like usual, all hesitant to go back to their homes. All except Buck. He was getting antsy to get the hell out of there and to probably never speak to you again. He could run into a burning building without batting an eye, but when it came to his personal life, all he wanted to do was run away. He absolutely hated confrontation and was going to avoid the inevitable as long as possible.
He looked at you, watching you laugh with his sister and could easily see the three of you getting together for dinner. You'd sit next to him and his hand would reach for yours and you'd give him a warm smile as Maddie looked at the both of you, so happy that her brother had finally real, true love.
The dream quickly faded away as Buck accepted that he was going to let you slip through his fingers. The whole thing was just too complicated and he wasn't going to put you through all of that, especially since you were just getting started with your career. You already had too much on your plate and he didn't think there was enough room for him.
"Right, Buck?" Bobby asked, giving his shoulder a pat and Buck turned to the man in confusion, not even aware that he was even being spoken to.
"I'm sorry, what?" You were still swirling around in his mind even though he was trying hard to focus on what Bobby had been saying.
"You're coming in on time tomorrow, right?" He had still been teasing about him being late a couple of days ago and Buck just rolled his eyes. Now he didn't have a reason to be late anymore and he kind of hated it.
"Yes sir," Buck nodded. "Good night, Bobby."
"Good night, Buck." Bobby gave his shoulder a squeeze and Buck gave you one last look before turning on his heel to head to his jeep.
You watched Buck walk to his vehicle, wondering why he had said goodbye to everyone but you. What, so he found out that you were Bobby's niece and now he was giving you the silent treatment? How was that fair? Maybe everything that happened that night was all part of an act and now he was just showing you his true self.
So maybe that night wasn't as special to you as it was to him. You had even considered asking him out, but now you guessed you had just dogged a bullet. He was just like the other's and at least this one saved you the headache by ghosting you instead of pursuing you only to show no interest in you the entire duration the relationship. You supposed it saved you some tissues knowing who he was from the get go.
One week later
You pulled up to the fire station, feeling anger course through you as you put Scarlett's car in park. You had tried to reach out to Buck multiple times since the party only to be met by nothing but silence. Even if nothing happened between the two of you, you felt like you at least deserved an explanation. Didn't your feelings matter too? Apparently not to him.
So, you decided to show up the one place he couldn't run from so you could have a conversation with him. You weren't sure how you were going to do that with all those people around, but you'd figure things out. You always did.
You marched into the station, scanning the place for Buck and noticed that everyone was surrounding the engine, wiping it down or cleaning the interior. Eddie was the first to spot you and he pointed wordlessly to the other side of the engine, assuming that you were there for Buck.
You rounded the back of the engine and made a beeline for the man, grabbing onto his arm, pulling him somewhere more private, deciding that right by the bathrooms was really the only spot that was as out of sight as you could get. You stopped there and Buck could practically see the flames forming in your eyes because of how angry you were. Women had been mad at him more times than he could count, but never like that. If looks could kill, he definitely would have been dead.
"You're an asshole," you told him, trying your best not to yell. For once, Buck was very aware of the hurt he had caused. And now he was paying for it. With the way you were balling your fists, you looked like you were going to punch him, and for the first time, he was going to take it because he felt like he deserved it.
"Am I?" He asked, cocking his head to the side. Buck didn't know why he was being such a dick, but now he felt like he had stick with it since he had already committed to the role. He honestly wasn't expecting you to show up. The most he ever got was an angry phone call. Perhaps you showing up was a sign that you weren't willing to give up on him like everyone else.
"Yes!" Your voice was a little loud, but you couldn't have cared less. He deserved to know just how angry you were and for once, you didn't care about embarrassing him. That was the least he deserved.
"I had a really nice time with you. You made me feel special. I hadn't slept with anyone in a long time and I trusted you. I trusted you, Evan. And then you find out that Bobby's my uncle and you run? If you didn't want to see me again, the least you could have done was told me. But no, you're nothing but a coward."
Bobby stood on the other side of the wall, listening to the entire thing. He hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but he had left the restroom just as you and Buck went to block the exit and he couldn't have passed without revealing that he had heard everything and he couldn't have that. At least, not yet. Tension was already high and he didn't want to make it worse.
Bobby didn't know what was worse, hearing that you had slept with Buck, or the fact that he made you cry. So not only did the guy sleep with you, but he also completely ghosted you and hurt your feelings. That was three strikes so Buck was out. At least, for the near future. Just as you were leaving, the sirens went off, signaling that there was a call.
Buck tried to follow you, but Eddie stopped him and Buck watched you leave from over Eddie's shoulder. Eddie turned him around and pushed Buck towards the engine, but Bobby stopped him.
"I'm benching you today, Buck." Maybe it was wrong of him to bring his personal life into work, but nobody was allowed to hurt his little girl. Not even Buck. Especially not Buck.
"Why?" Buck didn't like the assumption his brain was coming to and he really didn't like being benched after being yelled at by a girl he really liked.
"I'm the captain and what I say goes. The dishes really need to be done, so could you take care of that?" With that, Bobby got into the engine and both it and the truck pulled out of the station, leaving Buck with nothing but his thoughts and a sink full of dishes that needed to be done.
#evan “buck” buckley#evan buckley x reader#evan buckley x you#evan buckey x fem!reader#evan buckley smut#evan buckley#evan buckley fluff#911 abc#911 fox#911 show
87 notes
·
View notes
Text
Can we just take a second before Part 2 comes out...
I just want to take a minute and thank Luke and Nicola. We have said more than once since part 1 came out that we as a fandom have won. And we have. I know we have had ups and downs whining about brothels and how the characters behaved or lied or acted. But at the end of the day, Polin has had some of the most book accuracy and stories coming directly from the book than the first 2 seasons. And that is not by accident.
Luke and Nic both read the book early on coming onto Bridgerton. They listened to the fans. They paid attention to the story and the parts of the book that meant something to the characters. The beats that were necessary even when the show was different than the book.
They fought for things that they thought were needed, ie: Mister Bridgerton. Making sure the carriage scene was perfect, the mirror scene. Luke and Nic knew what beats were going to be crucial to the fans. Having actors play the roles of characters that are so beloved and who understood their fandom so well is why we won so much of this season, it's why so many lines made it into the show. It's why even when the story diverged from the book, pieces of it still shined through.
This came out in the press tour, it showed in their gratitude. And THAT is why the season is doing well. I've seen comments saying that it's because S1 and S2 did well and that's the only reason S3 is doing so good. Poppycock, yes the Bridgerton name helps it to do well, but they are doing more than well, they are exceeding expectation BECAUSE of what they have done. They are not surviving on name alone. They put in the work, the went the extra mile and they became Polin. For US! You can feel that in all their interviews, in the work they put on the screen and I appreciate that. And THAT is why they are succeeding.
You can hate the ship, I don't honestly give a fuck, but give the actors the credit they deserve. They worked hard for Colin and Penelope because they loved these characters from Season 1 and they cultivated it and they knew what they needed to do for this season. Not all ships get that love and attention and even if you didn't love EVERY piece of what you got on screen, you should appreciate for sure the work they did and how they grew.
109 notes
·
View notes
Text
All of Me
Part 12
(previous part here, next part here)
Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x You
Summary: You see a different side of Jake when he spends the night again.
Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Smut, femdom, edging, teasing, slight exhibitionism, sexting, etc.
•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>
“Go sit down in the living room,” Bradley insists, pushing you out of the kitchen to clean up after dinner because you cooked, “Pick out a movie or something, just no chick flicks.”
Jake helps him as you settle on the couch, eventually picking ‘10 Things I Hate About You’ as they finish up.
“Oh come on,” Bradley huffs as he sees it on the screen.
You laugh, sitting up so Jake can settle behind you. “You can pick next.”
“You don’t mind if I stay awhile?” He asks, flopping down on the couch across from you two.
“Would it matter if I did?” You tease, laughing as he tosses a pillow. “I’m kidding! Of course, you can stay.”
“Alright,” he replies, tugging at your heartstrings when he continues. “I just don’t want to intrude on your alone time together.”
“Hey,” you toss the pillow back, hitting him in the face. “You’re still my best friend. That isn’t going to change because I’m dating someone.”
“Alright,” Bradley says, glancing at Jake who gives him a nod.
•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>
Drew calls as your movie ends, and you put him on speakerphone so the guys can talk too.
“…and then we went out on the canoes and everyone else’s tipped but not ours!” He rushes out, talking a mile a minute. “Did you guys talk yet? Jake? Are you my mom’s boyfriend now?”
“How much sugar have you had today?” You laugh, teasing him.
Jake’s smiling too. “Yes, I’m her boyfriend now. Is that-“
“Yes!” The volume of answering shout makes you wince. “Roo, did you hear that? Our plan worked!”
“What plan?” You ask, looking up.
“Nothing,” Bradley and Drew answer together.
You roll your eyes but a smile pulls at your lips. “I just can’t with you two sometimes.”
“Are you guys gonna get married too?” Drew asks, not waiting for an answer before he’s asking another question, “Oh! Are you gonna have a baby? I really want a brother, but a sister-”
“You’re getting way ahead of yourself there, little Kernsie. Remember what we talked about?” Bradley saves you from having to answer while you avoid looking at Jake.
“Oh yeah, my bad,” Drew replies. “Now you just need a girlfriend, Roo.”
Bradley laughs. “I-“
“Wait,” Drew interrupts, suddenly sounding so small, making your heart pinch. “Can we still have boys' nights if you get a girlfriend?”
“Nothing is gonna stop us from having boys' night,” Bradley says, voice thick.
“Promise?” His little voice asks.
“I promise,” Bradley replies, not looking up.
“Okay good,” he replies, perking back up. “I gotta go. We’re gonna have a campfire before bed. Love you guys!” He hangs up before any of you can reply.
•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>
The room is quiet, heavy with emotion as Bradley scrolls for a movie. Jake lays back on the couch before guiding you back against his chest. You melt into his embrace; it feels so good to be held after years of having to be the one doing the holding as a mom.
Bradley starts snoring a few minutes later.
“He okay?” Jake murmurs as his fingertips trail up and down your arm. Bradley had quickly wiped his tears and changed the subject earlier when Jake had entered the kitchen.
“Yeah,” you murmur, looking over. He always acts so happy and carefree but you know he’s lonely. “Grief is weird. I don’t know how to else to explain it.”
“I bet,” he murmurs, pulling the blanket from the back of the couch over you both. “I won’t…I would never expect your friendship to change because of me. Or he and Drew’s relationship.”
“I know,” you smile, turning your head for a kiss. “He knows that too; I don’t think he’s allowed himself to grieve fully and big changes like this bring up a lot of emotion.”
He nods, attention returning to the movie; for a few minutes at least. The fingers trailing over your arm fall lower, fiddling with the hem of your tee shirt before tracing over your stomach.
“Your skin is so soft,” he murmurs by your ear, making you shiver as his cock twitches to life behind your back. He trails nonsensical patterns up over your belly button to the underside of your bralette-encased breast.
It feels naughty with Bradley snoring just a few feet away, but you still arch your back in a silent request.
He chuckles lowly and obliges, pinching your nipple as his other hand slides down into the front of your leggings, groaning when he finds you already wet.
“You like this, huh?” He murmurs hotly, nipping at your earlobe as he finds your clit.
You bite your lip to keep from whimpering as you nod.
“Gotta be real quiet then,” he whispers, sliding two fingers inside you. “Can you do that? Not make a sound?”
You nod again, gripping his thigh when he curls those fingers against your g-spot as his palm rubs your clit.
Instead of getting you off quickly with the possibility of Roo waking up any moment, he drags it out; slowly fucking you with his fingers while teasing your nipples. Finally, you start to tighten, on the edge of release, but he stills his fingers.
“What are-why’d you stop?” You whisper, chest heaving.
“Thought he was waking up,” he replies, a smug smile evident in his voice.
Bradley’s snores haven’t changed nor has he moved.
You turn slightly, hand slides up behind you into his hair and tug. “Liar,” you reply, nipping his sharp jaw.
His cock twitches at your back as he resumes his ministrations, pushing you back to the edge, but he stops when you’re on the brink. Again.
“Jake,” you groan softly, frustrated yet loving this side of him you haven’t seen yet. “Please?”
He hums against your hair as the hand on your chest begins teasing your breasts again; pinching, rolling, tugging your nipples until your hips begin to gyrate against his motionless fingers still inside you.
“Come on, Jake,” you whine, bringing your hand down over his to encourage him. “Please?”
He shudders behind you before finally giving in. “God, I love hearing you beg.”
“Don’t get used to it,” you reply, sighing as your orgasm approaches rapidly. He starts to slow again when he feels you clenching but you turn and capture his lips. “I won’t let you cum for a week if you stop again,” you warn, sinking your teeth into his lower lip to send the message home.
“Y-yes ma’am,” he breathes; instantly folding as you take back the reins of control. His hips begin to rut against you as your orgasm washes over you, with nothing but a soft, breathy moan leaving your lips.
Bradley is still snoring away as you pull Jake’s hand from your pants before bringing his fingers to your mouth to clean. Jake groans quietly as your tongue swirls around the digits like you would his cock before releasing them with a soft pop.
“You get a taste of being bad and decide you no longer need to listen?” You ask as you kiss along his jaw.
“I-fuck,” he gasps when you suck on his neck, hard enough to scare him but not enough to leave a mark.
“You’re gonna pay for that,” you smile against his skin at the way he shivers.
“Yes ma’am,” he replies.
You both jump when Bradley snores himself awake.
“How much did I miss?” He yawns, looking at the TV.
•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>
It takes a while for Jake’s erection to go down behind you, especially with the way you keep moving.
Jake picks a movie after the credits roll but you fall asleep a few minutes into it.
•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>
The sun is just starting to shine through the living room windows as you’re gently shaken awake by Roo.
“Hey, it’s a little after 6, I’m gonna go home and shower. Thanks for letting me stay,” he murmurs, kissing your forehead. “See you at lunch?”
“Any time, Roo,” you yawn, nodding, “I’ll bring leftovers for lunch.”
“You’re the best,” he smiles, heading for the door.
“Morning,” you turn to kiss Jake awake. “Wanna take a shower?”
“Yes,” he replies sleepily, not opening his eyes while his arms tighten around you. “In 10 minutes.”
You laugh but let him hold you for a few minutes more as you listen to his slow heartbeat as the room begins to brighten with the new day.
Your own heart begins to race as you realize this is how you want to wake up from now on.
•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>
“Shit! It’s after 7!”
You jolt awake at Jake’s words, having fallen back asleep in his warm embrace.
“Fuck fuck fuck, I’m sorry,” he apologizes as he follows you up the stairs. “What time do you have to be in?”
“It’s okay, I fell asleep too,” you reply, whipping off your clothes and pulling out a clean pair of scrubs. “7:30ish. My first patient is at 7:45.”
“You’re wearing those?” He gulps, looking at the first pair of underwear you grabbed and pulling up, black, lacy boy shorts that show off your ass nicely.
“Yeah, why?” You ask, turning around and seeing precum from his morning wood staining his briefs. “Oh you poor thing,” you coo, time forgotten as you walk over to him. “I might’ve taken care of this in the shower,” you say as your hand brushes over his cock and around his hip to grip his ass. “Too bad we overslept.”
His eyes close and he sucks in a breath when you land a sharp slap to his still-tender ass before you turn to get dressed.
•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>
He pulls you in for a deep kiss that has you wanting more before you drive away. With your lead foot, you make it with 30 seconds to spare.
The morning schedule is busy and the boys are already in your office with your warmed-up leftovers when you break for lunch. It’s brief though, as they have a meeting before their afternoon hop.
“See you tonight?” Jake murmurs before stealing a kiss.
You nod, seeing him out before Sophie comes in a moment later, looking ready to cry.
“Hey, what’s wrong? Sit down,” You gesture to one of the chairs across from your dress that the boys vacated.
“I got accepted to the UCLA program to get my master’s in nursing,” she smiles tearfully.
“Oh Soph, that’s great!” You say, reaching out to squeeze her hand. This had been something she’s been working towards for a while. “Congratulations!”
“You’re not mad?” She asks, lip quivering.
You laugh, “Of course not! Why would I be mad?”
“Because I have to quit,” she replies, tears now spilling over.
“Oh Soph,” you sniff, coming around to hug her. “I’m definitely going to miss you. But I’m happy that you’re finally pursuing this. Who knows, maybe you’ll end up back here as a nurse practitioner.”
She nods as she wipes her tears before giving you all the details.
“I better go get your first afternoon patient checked in,” she sighs, “thanks Reese, for everything.”
“Of course,” you smile, but it falls once she leaves your office.
Not were you only going to miss her, but now you have to find a new nurse.
You pull your phone out to text Jake but he’s already sent one, with a picture attached.
Jake: You were right. Every time I sit down I remember what you did to me yesterday.
The picture is taken under the table, it’s dark but his straining erection is obvious.
Reese: By the looks of things, you enjoyed it.
Reese: Is that why you edged me last night? Was that your way of asking for more?
Jake: Never
Jake: Bradshaw kept moving. I didn’t think you’d want him to catch us in the act.
You bite your lip at his little act, the panties he liked so much this morning growing wet.
Reese: I know you’re lying to me. I’ll find out the truth one way or another tonight.
Reese: Before you suit up for your hop, I want a video of you jerking off.
Reese: and no, you can’t cum. 😘
Sophie’s knock makes you jump. “All set.”
“Thanks,” you reply, cheeks flushing like you’ve been caught.
You can almost hear his sigh before his next text.
Jake: …
Jake: Yes ma’am.
•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>
A/N: I just love these two. This version of Jake is quickly becoming my favorite. I dropped a hint for Bradley’s story…any ideas?
As always, any interaction is appreciated but I love hearing what you think in the comments/reblogs!
Please let me know if you want to be added to (or removed from) my taglist!
@lexixstewart
@dizzybee03
@its-the-pilot
@hookslove1592
@hisredheadedgoddess28
@atarmychick007
@littlezee80
@buckysteveloki-me
@k-k0129
@phoenix-rising-starbird-one
@jessicab1991
@djs8891
@lonelysoul504
@mrsevans90
@landpiranha-blog
@bellaireland1981
@angelbabyyy99
@writtingrose
@shanimallina87
@mizzzpink
@dempy
@linkpk88
@hardballoonlove
@lynnevanss
@entertainmentgirl80
@coldmuffinbanditshoe
@midnightmagpiemama
@emma8895eb
@seitmai
@fandomology101
@hotch-meeeeeuppppp
@amiets2
#jake seresin x ofc#jake hangman seresin x ofc#jake hangman seresin x you#jake hangman seresin x reader#jake seresin x reader#jake seresin#jake hangman seresin#jake seresin x you#bradley rooster bradshaw#top gun maverick#bradley bradshaw#top gun smut#sub jake hangman seresin#sub jake seresin
89 notes
·
View notes
Note
Could you write something about a villain who is madly in love with Hero but can’t express their feelings cause of the whole secret identity thing and they’re so in love with hero that they know everything about them and pull a bunch of strings and commit several crimes so that they can do on a date with hero?
"What was that?" the hero asked. They sat on their office chair with a leg crossed, almost as if they were on a throne and watching the villain's every move. It was intoxicating to say the least. Seeing the hero like this, like the mighty protector of the city that they were let the villain's heart jump up and down excitedly.
"I'm sorry," the villain repeated and they could feel the ends of their fingertips tingle.
"Try that again, darling." The hero's index finger ran along the villain's jawline until it stopped right under their chin. "What are you apologising for?"
They used more pressure, used more force but the villain would have raised their head no matter what. They would have punished themselves if necessary. They knew the hero was a kind person. And that they had a very sweet soul. There was no reason to fight them - the villain would lose every time, even if it meant they were doing it on purpose.
It wasn't just about the hero's power. That was mostly a sexual driven factor. What the hero could do to them (in bed, preferably) would be the hero's decision.
For the villain, the very being of the hero fascinated them. How, despite a horrible childhood, they had managed to continue to live a life full of purpose. The hero was someone who had healed gracefully, not like the villain. The hero was someone who was inspiring, someone who was changing lives so nonchalantly.
"I'm sorry I committed those crimes just to see you," the villain said. But they couldn't really think. They stared up at these perfect watercoloured eyes they would think of before going to sleep sometimes.
Most of the time, they only saw each other when they were working. Not that the villain would ever really confess - they were too insecure for that - but sometimes, they really hoped the hero would somehow feel the same things. Because, God, the villain was confused. They couldn't tell if this was affection or not. If this was flirting or if the hero was using them for other purposes.
It was heartbreaking to think about but the villain would rather stay with them while they used them than not seeing them at all.
"You can be so sweet," the hero said. They let their thumb go over the villain's bottom lip slowly and much to the villain's embarrassment, they could feel their neck start to glow. "But you should be sorry for committing crimes in the first place, not because you could get my attention that way."
"I'm sorry," the villain whispered. "I wasn't...I wasn't really thinking."
"Don't worry about it," the hero said. They let go of the villain (which bothered the villain more than it should have) and leaned against their backrest casually. "I do have another question, though."
"Yes?"
"Did you know that in our evaluation and in our reports you're classified as the most dangerous villain in the city? You're said to be the most powerful, in fact."
"...oh." The villain had suspected something like that. They knew they could defeat most villains and heroes alike. They had never had any big troubles in combat and they were quite creative when it came to using their powers. It made sense but maybe the hero was baiting them into fake self-confidence.
Was this...some heartless trick? Some fake buttering up?
"Now, here is my real question," the hero said. They stood up and the villain nearly expected the hero to circle them and make fun of the villain. To humiliate them, to use this, if they truly found out about it. Using this longing the villain felt to completely destroy the villain. But instead, the hero stood in front of them. "Why on earth is the most powerful villain in the city kneeling in my office?"
Quickly, the villain stood up - they were a bit taller so they looked down at the hero - and cleared their throat. The hero smiled at them softly.
"Well, you asked me to."
"And you didn't hesitate." This was a game. Now, the hero wanted them to confess. The villain could feel the blush on their cheeks spread until it reached their ears.
The villain swallowed. They had never done this before. They had never even thought it would be possible for someone to love them back. It was already a bit twisted - doing all of this just to look at the hero once. And after all, this could still be a trick to humiliate them. Although the villain wouldn't be mad at the hero if this was the case, they didn't like the idea of other heroes seeing them like this.
Or even hearing about this.
They could forgive the hero if they told anyone. But they would be furious with others.
"Are you asking me to...?" tell you the truth? To confess?
"Yes, yes I am."
"I'm not ready for that, I think," the villain said and they found themselves a lot more pathetic than mere minutes ago when they'd been on their knees.
"Okay," the hero said. Their smile was still so sweet. They set their hands on the villain's shoulders and pushed themselves up to their tiptoes.
Then, they kissed the villain's cheek.
"I'll wait for you," they said. "But, darling, please don't do anything stupid again."
The villain stared at them, nodding as if they were a dog receiving new commands.
#save a horseeeeeeee ride a cowboy#writing snippet#heroxvillain snippet#hero x villain prompt#heroes and villains#hero#villain#heroxvillain#hero x villain#request#an answer for an ask#sub villain#very sub villain#dom hero
130 notes
·
View notes
Text
series masterlist | next part
pairing: modern!college!steve harrington x fem!reader
word count: 1k words
warnings: explicit language, bestfriend!eddie, no steve in this one (but he will be in everything going forward) (we're just setting the vibes in this one yall🫡 )
summary: you suggest an idea that you immediately regret, but you find it too hard to take it all back
PROLOGUE | ❝𝒄𝒂𝒏'𝒕 𝒈𝒐 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌❞
Spring Semester 2018
“We should set each other up on blind dates.”
Right as the words left your lips, you regretted them. And then you were immediately wondering how long it would take for you to look back on this moment and not feel completely embarrassed by it.
Your honest answer was ten years, your more hopeful one was five. However, you could also see yourself never getting over this moment because you knew that everything else that transpired from it would be entirely your fault, and you’d probably forever feel like an idiot because of that.
A confused look crossed Eddie’s face for a brief moment. “What?”
It was only you two in your apartment right then, sitting on the couch in the living room with a blanket draped over your laps. The night started with him suggesting a horror movie to watch and you agreeing because the plot of it sounded just dumb enough to seem interesting. The credits of said movie were now rolling on the TV screen in front of you, but neither of you paid any attention to that.
“Um, that’s why I asked if you think you’re ready to start dating again. Because I’ve been thinking that we should set each other up on blind dates, and I didn’t wanna suggest that idea if you weren’t ready to start dating again.”
Your initial question that started this entire conversation had nothing to do with that random blind date idea you just pulled out of thin air. It, instead, had everything to do with you watching a nostalgic romcom in your childhood bedroom two weeks ago during winter break and feeling an ache in your chest that resurfaced everything you had successfully pushed away for the last few months.
That was what led you to asking Eddie if he was thinking about dating again; the answer to that question would tell you exactly what you needed to do about your feelings. If the answer was no, you could easily bury everything back down for another handful of months before it hit you like a ton of bricks again; this time you planned to avoid watching romcoms for as long as you could. If the answer was yes— well, you actually hadn’t thought that far ahead, and that was the main reason why you hadn’t planned on bringing the question up tonight.
You were going to avoid asking it for as long as possible. Hopefully, until you found some other reason to push your feelings away for the millionth time. But then you were blurting it out as the credits of the movie started rolling.
“Hey, um, do you think you’re ready to start dating again?”
You weren’t expecting his answer to be yes, and you especially didn’t expect him to sound so sure about it.
The last time the topic of Eddie’s dating life came up, it was the beginning of the Fall semester. Robin had asked if he was finally over Chrissy and the break up— a break up that was abrupt and, in his eyes, came out of nowhere, but according to Chrissy, she had been feeling “off” about things for a couple of months.
His answer was no back then, he wasn’t fully over the almost year-and-a-half relationship. And because of that, dating again was pretty much the farthest thing from his mind.
Now, though, it was a complete one-eighty of that.
“Yeah, I am, honestly. It’s been a long time since the breakup, and I think I’ve “wallowed” long enough. I’m completely over Chrissy. Finally.”
You responded with, “That’s really great,” and you hoped it didn’t sound as surprised as you felt. And then he was asking you why you asked your question, and for a few moments you were at a loss for words.
It could’ve been easy to finally say everything. I like you. I love you. More than a friend. Maybe always more than a friend.
However, none of it would form on your lips.
You couldn’t find it in you to tell him the truth. So, instead of finally doing that, you decided to put yourself in this idiotic “blind date” situation.
That was why the question should’ve stayed buried down just like your feelings. Because even though his answer was yes, he was ready to “get back out there,” you now weren’t sure if you’d ever want to take this chance that you had been waiting and hoping for since Freshman year.
The fear of ruining everything that you two had built since that first year of school when he lived just across the hall from you— a friendship that quickly became one of the most important things in your life— weighed too heavily on you.
That fear never managed to actually change your feelings for him, though.
It did, however, make you do some of the most insane things ever. Like, suggesting a very dumb idea.
But, somehow Eddie didn’t think it was dumb.
“I honestly don’t hate that idea.”
You simply looked at him for a moment before speaking. “Actually?”
“Yeah,” He nodded and his shoulders upturned in a brief shrug. “A blind date could be cool, and we know each other really well, so we’d probably actually choose good people for each other.”
And that was when you started contemplating how long you’d feel like an idiot because of this moment.
You smiled, hoping that it didn’t look as fake as it felt. “Yeah, exactly. That’s why I thought of it.”
The conversation seemed to take on a life of its own from there. Eddie said that you two should do it next week and you nodded along, continuing to say things that you didn’t mean in the slightest but you simply pretended like you did. It felt as if you had accidentally dug yourself into a hole and there was no logical way to backtrack on everything you said. Eddie mentioned that he already had someone in mind for you, and you lied and said that you did too; even though the thought of now having to find someone for him made you feel the tiniest bit ill.
Moments before he left for the night, you thought about simply taking it all back and finally just telling him how you felt, but when you pulled back from the goodbye hug he pulled you into, you couldn’t do it.
Apparently, you just loved making things stupidly complicated for yourself.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。
next part! (coming thursday!)
taglist (lmk if you want to be added or taken off<333); @eddiernunson , @loulouloueh , @the-aster , @blckburd , @totally-bogus-timelady , @yujyujj , @irhdifartzamfyaa
#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington fic#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington x you#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington x fem!reader#stranger things fluff#stranger things fic#stranger things imagine#stranger things series#steve harrington series
68 notes
·
View notes
Text
✭ 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐭. 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐚, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞: 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒂𝒍.
✭ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: when your best friend amelia asked you to be her maid of honor, you were ecstatic… and then you found out her fiancé’s best man would be schlatt, the one person on this earth that you can’t stand, for reasons you would never tell a soul.
✭ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: schlatt’s a fuckin’ brat. that’s all.
✭ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: ~1.9k
✭ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: eee first installment of the best man!schlatt series is finally here. can’t wait for you guys to embark on this journey with me. as always, no beta. we die like men here.
“I’m expecting you to be on your best behavior this week.” Your best friend Amelia says, and it takes everything in you to not roll your eyes at her.
The two of you are sitting at the airport, waiting to board the plane to St. Lucia for Amelia and James’ destination wedding.
“I don’t know what you mean. I’m literally always a delight.” You say, and Amelia actually does roll her eyes, before shooting you a pointed look.
Of course you know exactly what she means, and honestly, it’s an unnecessary warning. You are absolutely capable of being on your best behavior, there’s no question about it, but you know for a fact that Amelia’s fiancé’s best man can’t be trusted to do the same.
Schlatt’s always had a knack for getting under your skin.
“Don’t be like that,” Amelia says, as if reading your mind, “James is giving Schlatt the exact same talk in their Lyft right now.”
“Yeah, well, he’s the one that needs it, not me.” You point out, but Amelia just shakes her head.
“You know I love you,” Amelia starts, and you can’t help the frown that spreads on your face, “But when you get around Schlatt you get so… aggro. It’s weird. So I’m asking you kindly to rein that shit in.”
Damn. If only she knew.
You hadn’t realized it affected Amelia that much.
“I swear I will be an absolute angel.” You tell her sincerely, not wanting to ruin her week of relaxation and celebration.
Amelia stares at you blankly, like she doesn’t believe anything you’re saying.
“…Okay, fine. I will try my best.” You concede, and it’s good enough for Amelia, who just smiles at you in response.
Amelia immediately changes the subject then, satisfied with your answer, to talk about the itinerary for the week. She grills you on what you’ve packed, making sure you haven't forgotten your bathing suit or sunscreen, double checking that you’ve packed clothes for nights out (“because we will be going out every night.”), checking that you have everything you need for a smooth plane ride. You’ve gone over everything several times before James comes running up with his carry-on, all but tackling Amelia in excitement and peppering her face with kisses.
“Who’s ready to fucking party?” James exclaims, beaming, wrapping his arm around Amelia’s waist.
You start to answer him, but stop short as you finally notice Schlatt sauntering up behind him, taking his time. You avert your gaze as quickly as you can, diverting your attention back to the happy couple.
“What?” Schlatt smirks over at you, “No hello for me, toots?”
You resist the urge to grimace as Schlatt acknowledges you. Don’t fucking call me that, you want to say, but instead you go with, “Hello, Schlatt,” keeping your voice level.
Schlatt’s smirk grows as he raises his eyebrows, no doubt surprised you weren’t trying to tear his head off, and he opens his mouth to say something but Amelia quickly interrupts, moving to hug Schlatt hello.
“Hey, Mel,” Schlatt greets her softly, pulling her in with one arm.
When she pulls back, he puts a hand on her shoulder. “You sure you still wanna marry this fuck?” He gestures at James, “Now’s the time to back out. I’m sure it’d save me a couple thou this week.” He jokes, and Amelia just smacks him in the chest.
“Yes, I’m sure, asshole.” Amelia laughs, smiling over at James.
“Where’s everybody else?” Schlatt asks, crossing his arms over his chest.
“They’re all showing up in a couple days. Couldn’t get the full week off.” James answers.
“Chumps.”
“Besides, we wanted some time with our favorite people before getting the whole group together.” Amelia grins, squeezing both you and Schlatt on the arms.
You plaster on a fake smile. You were hoping to at least have someone as a buffer so you wouldn’t have to engage with Schlatt at all, but of course, you can’t be that lucky.
It’s just for a couple days, you remind yourself, taking a deep breath.
“It’ll be fun.” James says, though it sounds like he’s trying to convince himself rather than actually meaning it.
“Of course it will.” Schlatt grins, looking over at you. “We can play nice, can’t we, doll?” He asks you, reaching over to pinch your cheek. You slap his hand away.
“Don’t fucking touch me.” You spit out, and Amelia shoots another look in your direction while James elbows Schlatt in the side.
“Now boarding flight 52B to St. Lucia.” comes over the intercom and you let out a sigh of relief.
At least you’d get nine hours of peace…
…Or so you thought. As you board the plane, you realize Schlatt’s seat is right next to yours.
You notice this after he pushes past you through the door of the plane, marching directly to the row you’re supposed to be seated in. He wastes no time making himself at home in his spot, stretching his legs out and leaning back against the cushioned seat, completely blocking you from getting to your seat on the other side of him.
You take a deep breath to steady yourself before politely saying, “Can you move your legs, please? I need to get to my seat.”
Schlatt shakes his head, a dismissive look on his face. “Nah.”
You huff, turning to look at Amelia for help, but she and James are too busy stowing their carry-ons.
Realizing that no one is coming to your aid, you make a show of shrugging at him. “Fine,” You say, stepping over his legs, swinging your body just so, so that the backpack on your back smacks into his face.
Schlatt grunts, reaching out to push your backpack away from him, the sheer force causing you to spin out and fall into your seat.
“God, I can’t stand you.” You hiss at him as you right yourself.
“Feeling’s mutual, toots.” Schlatt winks.
You just roll your eyes, turning your body as far away from his as possible, staring out the window. As soon as the plane gets ready to take off, your headphones are in your ears, drowning everything else out. You miss a lot of the ‘safety measures' spiel, but Schlatt elbows you toward the end of it.
“What?” You scowl at him, pulling one of your headphones out.
“The lady said to make sure all small things are securely fastened.” Schlatt smirks, and you know exactly what he’s about to say, “Do you feel securely fastened or do I need to help you?”
You don’t dignify him with a response, you just simply roll your eyes, putting your headphone back in.
The first few hours go by pretty fast, and Schlatt manages to keep to himself, thank God. You’ve had your nose in your book the whole time, getting some much needed reading time in.
Around hour five, you hear a little bloop! in your ears, signaling that your headphones are close to dead.
Realistically it’s not that big of a deal — they’ll be back to a full charge after spending about twenty minutes in their case, but that means you won’t be able to drown anything — or anyone — out for twenty minutes.
You dare to peek over at Schlatt at the thought, but you’re relieved to find him sound asleep.
There’s a good idea, you think, for once.
You put your headphones back in their case and get comfortable in your seat, resting your head against the window. Sleep comes to you surprisingly easily, and you drift off as the plane quietly drones on.
You get a good three-ish hours of sleep, and you probably could have slept even longer, had you not been woken up by the tell-tale sound of a phone camera shutter in your face.
Your eyes flutter open to see Amelia sneakily peering over her seat, her phone just barely above her headrest, pointed directly at you.
“What are you doing?” You ask groggily, and Amelia’s eyes dart from her phone screen to your face.
“Nothing.” She says, looking over in Schlatt’s direction, before gazing back at you quickly.
Your shoulder suddenly feels very heavy, and when you turn to look at Schlatt, your face bumps into the top of his head. He’s still dead asleep, his arms crossed over his chest, and his head resting on your shoulder.
“Delete it. Delete it now.” You demand, hurriedly shrugging Schlatt off of your shoulder. He grunts, but doesn’t wake up, moving his head to the other side.
“It’s kind of cute, actually,” Amelia grins, a devious look on her face, and you jump at her, trying to grab her phone.
Amelia lets out a yelp and moves her phone just out of reach, turning back around in her seat.
You scowl at the back of her headrest, simmering in silence despite how badly you want to reach around her seat and pry her phone from her.
It’s late evening when the plane finally lands, and you don’t bother waking Schlatt, crawling over him to get out of the aisle. You’re one of the first off of the plane, eager to get away from Schlatt, if only for a moment.
And it is only a moment, because about twenty minutes later, you’re squished in the back of an Uber with him, but at least James is sitting in between the two of you.
The three of them (James, Amelia, and Schlatt) all discuss what to do first come morning, and you just listen, still stewing about the picture Amelia took. You wish she didn’t find so much joy in keeping it. It’s bad enough that you have to spend time with Schlatt, you don’t want it memorialized forever.
“What do you think, (Y/N/N)?”
You look at Amelia, who eyes you from the front seat. Maybe you weren’t listening, because you have no idea what she’s referring to. “Yeah, Ams, sounds great.” You say, because this is her shindig after all. Whatever Amelia wants, Amelia gets.
Once James and Amelia get everyone checked in and James hands you your room key, you’re off to your room without waiting for anyone else. Maybe you’re being a little immature about this whole thing, but all you needed was an hour or so without having to be near Schlatt to recharge.
The rest of your group takes a minute to familiarize themselves with the resort, which will give you plenty of time to relax. You unlock the door to your room, marveling at the size of it — it’s a whole-ass suite. There’s a little den area, a kitchenette, and then the bedroom. Amelia and James are definitely spoiling you, and you feel a little bad about just ditching them the way you did. Can’t take it back now, you suppose.
You’re unpacking your suitcase when you notice the balcony, overlooking the ocean with a bucket of champagne chilling on a glass table. When you finish unpacking, you’re heading straight for that bottle.
After you’ve gotten everything hung up or nestled nearly in a drawer, you’re doing exactly that. You pad out onto the balcony, the warm wind whipping through your hair, and you let out a peaceful sigh. You take a minute to bask in the night air, holding your arms out, letting the salty scent of the ocean engulf you.
“Hey, toots.” You hear, and you stiffen, turning your head towards the sound.
On the balcony right next to yours stands Schlatt, taking a hearty sip out of his own bottle of champagne. He swallows, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, before grinning at you deviously.
“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”
#she’s heeeere! 🤭#jschlatt x reader#schlatt x reader#jschlatt x you#schlatt x you#the wedding fic#best man!schlatt#mhibisl
117 notes
·
View notes
Note
Can't stop thinking about Chuuya in leather pants (I want to draw it saur bad). Just the way they hug his legs and ass!!!! And when he's hard the shine of the leather perfectly outlines his thick, pretty cock...
You can't help but drool after him when he wears them (so of course expect him to wear them even more). You beg to sit on the floor between his legs not even undoing the front laces yet, just nuzzling at his growing bulge smearing the material with your drool.
When he finally let's you open them up, the musk is so intense and hot from the leather trapping heat all day. It's a 50/50 if chuuya decided to wear a sheer black thong that cups his cock so beautifully or just went commando- either way avoiding unsightly underwear lines.
And after all that teasing, of course he's going to make you deep throat his cock.
-⚡️
CREAMING MYSELF HOLY SHITTTTT (under a cut because it got waaaaay too long oops)
Ugh he's so GORGEOUS, the pants hug his toned ass and tiny waist, they highlight and elongate his legs, they show everything. Especially if he's wearing a little cropped jacket on top so his silhouette isn't hidden at any angle!! Chuuya knows he looks good and he knows you love looking at him, he can feel your eyes following his figure, watching how his body shifts under the tight leather. He's half hard already, his pretty cock chubbing up and beginning to ache as it's squeezed, the leather is unforgiving. But Chuuya knows it just makes him look better, the clear outline of his thick cock showing through his pants alongside everything else they reveal is driving you insane. He can practically see you drooling.
If you don't ask first, he'll drag you to your knees himself. Chuuya makes sure to sit a lot during the day, leaning back and relaxing, spreading his legs as much as the pants allow and letting out a satisfied groan to catch your attention. By the time you're kneeling between his legs he's lost some of his patience though, grabbing the back of your neck and pushing you into his crotch, rubbing his bulge against your face and growling under his breath when you mouth at it and kiss him through the fabric. He's painfully hard now and sees no reason to drag this out, Chuuya needs to feel you properly before he finishes in his pants.
You're as desperate as always of course, doubly so when he peels the fabric away and you see he's not wearing anything (or better yet the thong, soaked through with sweat and precum). The little whine that escapes your throat makes him laugh quietly and ask if you like what you see, but you cut him off by diving straight in and nestling close to his cock, rubbing your cheek against the heated skin of his thigh and kissing the edge of his bush, savouring the smell and salty taste of sweat. Chuuya curses, beginning to shake as you keep pressing closer and kissing his thighs, his stomach, his cock, you even lean down enough to pay attention to his balls before cupping them in your hand. The whole day has been as unbearable for Chuuya as it has been for you, so the moment you plant a gentle kiss on his tip and suck him gently through the lace of his thong he's coming undone, gripping your head tight and throwing his head back with a high, choked off whine. It's a gorgeous sound and of course you want more, you keep touching him through his orgasm as his pretty dick leaks everywhere and his cum begins to drip through the lace of the thong, immediately captured in your willing mouth.
When you shift the fabric just enough to let his cock spring out you whine, it looks so pretty. Flushed all the way to the tip and still painfully hard, straining against Chuuya's tummy and begging for attention, cum still drooling down the side. You can't help but lean in and lick him clean, massaging his balls to get all his cum out, drooling until your whole face is a mess of spit and cum and you're covered in his smell, cockdrunk and moaning shamelessly as Chuuya cums down your throat for the third time, his gloved hand on your head keeping his cock so far down your throat that all you can smell and taste is him. Exactly how you both like it.
#chuuya.bsd#chuuya x reader#chuuya smut#chuuya x y/n#chuuya x you#⚡️ anon#sorry I went overboard. i heard Chuuya in tight leather pants and lost it#on the topic of Chuuya with leather pants. rockstar Chuuya. specifically him singing Closer
98 notes
·
View notes
Note
Could you do a romantic Naoya Zen'in with a female!sorceror!reader please! Thank you!
Oh he's going to be such an asshole... so I hope you know what you're expecting- I'm on Chapter 143, so some info may be wrong.
Possible JJK Manga Spoilers within this for chapters after where the anime (Season 2) leaves off!
Yandere! Naoya Zenin with Female Sorcerer! Darling
Pairing: Romantic
Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Controlling behavior, Sexism, Condescending/Degrading behavior, Possessive behavior, Attempted forced marriage/courting, Stalking, Violence, Blood, Murder, Toxic masculinity, Threats, Forced relationship.
You just know he's going to be horrible to deal with due to his family's principles.
The Zenin family canonically has sexist views, seeing women as just wives.
This is seen with Maki and Mai in the series, Naoya's language only confirms it.
It's canon that he views women as wives and thinks if they aren't three paces behind a man, they should be stabbed in the back (Actual quote, you wish I was joking.)
So it's safe to say Naoya is going to be hell.
He's such an entitled brat, tone and behavior often dripping in arrogance.
He would refuse to see you as skilled.
Being around Naoya as a female Jujutsu Sorcerer often comes with... comments.
Comments literally no one asked for.
Naoya would be degrading and condescending towards you.
He'd often view you as weak.
You could never measure up to him in a battle.
Like he did with Maki and Mai, he likes to break you down.
But here's the worst part.
Naoya would be the type of person to bully you because he likes you.
He definitely finds himself wanting your attention, so he'll get it in any way he can.
It's so easy to hate him, he doesn't even mind all that much at first.
Naoya would hunt you down just to mess with you.
At first it's just because he finds your goals to be stronger preposterous.
Although... before he even realizes it, he may follow you because he finds you attractive.
He likes that you're strong for a woman and might even see you as good wife material.
Naoya stalks you around, watching you kill Curses before stepping in to essentially steal the glory.
It's like in some twisted way he's trying to impress you.
Naoya treats you like you can't do anything alone.
He acts like he should be the man in your life.
He's so possessive... he thinks he owns you.
If he doesn't, he knows he will at some point.
Naoya is a nuisance to you due to both his beliefs... and the growing attraction he has.
You hate his guts... but Naoya feels he can't live without your attention.
He loves it when you look at him, he loves it when you react to him, he finds it cute when you fight him.
He believes he is leagues above you in power... yet adores you all the same.
Naoya would definitely put you down, then try to pull you into relying on him.
He tells you you're weak on your own... that you need him in your life.
In reality, it's the other way around.
Naoya feels he needs you.
However, Naoya is a prideful man and would never want to admit to that.
Naoya would often claim himself to be your man, be that boyfriend or husband.
In fact, Naoya may just jump straight into husband territory.
He's unwilling to believe you have any other choice.
Hate his guts? Sure... but you'll be married someday in his eyes.
He hates it when you disobey him to make him upset.
You want nothing to do with him, you want to be a Jujutsu Sorcerer without Naoya breathing down your neck.
Naoya is a Sorcerer who quickly turns to violence to get what he wants.
In the manga we see him quickly deciding to kill Megumi and Yuji to become head of the Zenin clan.
Imagine if you had a suitor already? Y'know... one who supports your career?
Naoya won't stand for that.
I can see Naoya stalking you until seeing your lover, only to confront them.
As I said, he feels he's the only man and partner for you.
So Naoya would probably kill them... with no regrets... in front of you.
The blood covering his clothes means nothing to him.
All that matters is making you his.
He's such a hypocrite, telling you to rely on him as if you need him.
You're capable on your own, but it's like he refuses to see that.
He wants you to listen to his every order, to beg to be with him.
In reality he's projecting, wanting to do that to you yet his pride won't let him.
At some point he gives in to the fact he loves you.
He loves you, he needs you, why can't you obey him?
The fact you're a woman who won't listen to him breaks him at times.
Yet he's determined to make you his wife.
It doesn't matter what you think of him...
Naoya is a selfish entitled brat who's used to getting what he wants.
He knows at some point he'll get you.
It doesn't matter how much blood he spills to make it happen... or if he has to break you mentally.
He'll make you his... his perfect little wife... who needs him as much as he needs you.
Naoya could drag you into his arms kicking and screaming, the blood on his clothes staining your skin as he grins down at you.
He doesn't care if he has to drag you to your wedding bound.
Naoya knows he'll have you... that you'll be his and you'll give him strong heirs...
You'll learn your role like every other woman in his clan... forced to stay by his side like the good wife he knows you are.
55 notes
·
View notes
Note
how does dick grayson act when hes jealous 😋😋
a/n: thank you for sending this in anon!! I can't tell you how much I love you for it. this was really fun !!!! <3333
Dick Grayson doesn't get jealous. Or so you think. It's just that-he''s Dick Grayson. What would he have to be jealous about? He's got a great smile, a flirty personality, a nice ass, people flock to him with the bat of his eyelashes.
So sitting across your date for the night, you didn't expect to see Dick Grayson just a few feet in front of you at the bar. He didn't exactly make himself discreet either. He's turned right to you, eyeing you up.
You look back to your date.
"Do you think this date is going well?" you ask straight up.
They look at you, a bit flabbergasted at the brutal honesty of your question.
"I mean, I would say it's going to my liking. Wha-how is it going for you?" they ask.
You smile and shrug, "It's going well. It was."
"Was?" they ask.
Dick Grayson grabs his drink and downs it. Its chilling to see. Chilling and also hot. You didn't think he was the type. The knock 'em back because I'm Jealous type. The jealous type.
"Yeah, because I've got a feeling that we won't be seeing each other again." you answer.
"Wait is this some new tactic to let me down? If so you can just tell me. I can take it." they reply.
You shake your head, "Its not a tactic, but there's this guy I'm also seeing. He just walked in."
"Ah, so I lost out." your date says.
You look at them. If you hadn't met Dick Grayson this date would be going exceptionally well. You'd be laughing, having fun, not worrying about some other guy who has your attention.
You originally didn't think about this date as a date.
It wasn't until you woke up last weekend and got a text from an unknown number. One of your friends had sent you your date's number and picture thinking you would be interesting.
Not knowing that you were wrapped up in the sheets with Dick. Who, also happened to the message. And that fueled another round with him that was exciting and passionate. All for him to say that you should go on that date, ya know since the two of you weren't official.
His words.
You weren't necessarily trying to make him regret his words. You were trying to bend yourself to them actually. Because he was right, you aren't official.
But Dick Grayson sitting at the bar a few feet from your date? That wasn't casual.
"But be honest, did I really charm you enough for a date or was there another reason?" you ask them.
They sit back in their chair with a sad smile on their face.
"You caught me. Yeah. This would be my first date after a long relationship." they answer.
"You could always say it was good. Because it was. I'm just not..." you trail off.
"not available." they finish off the sentence for you.
"Yeah." you answer simply.
"That's okay. I can pay for the bill and we can just end it here." they say.
They hail down the waiter and ask for the bill. But somehow, your bill has been paid. Your eyes dart back to Dick at the bar. He raises his glass towards you.
"Wow, I guess this is some sort of lucky / unlucky date." they joke.
You laugh at that. And then your date gets up from their seat, and bids you goodbye. You say the same and sit back in your chair. Waiting for the inevitable.
You reach into your bag for your lipgloss. As you grab it and take it out, you don't pay attention to the sound of the chair in front of you moving. You reapply your lipgloss.
"Fun date?" a voice asks.
You look across from you. Dick.
"yeah. you having a nice night?" you ask him.
Dick grins and takes a swig of his drink. It's almost down to the bottom. You can't tell if he got another one before he left the bar or not.
"Not really no. I pushed the one person that makes me happy into something because I got scared." he admits.
"Scared of what?" you ask.
"Scared of happiness. I realized how happy you made me and I didn't want to ruin it, but I ruined it anyways. I'm so so sorry for doing that to you." he explains.
You nod your head.
"So I'm so irresistibly charming and I make you so happy that you crashed my date, paid the bill, and apologized for the whole thing?" you least lightly.
Dick shakes his head, "I shouldn't get your forgiveness. I mean I deserve to be put on time-out or put in a corner."
"You're a grown man, Dick. I'm not about to do that to you. I just want you to know what you want." you say.
"I want you." he says effortlessly.
You smile, "Good. Because I'm not seeing anyone else."
"I haven't see anyone else since we first kissed." Dick admits.
#dc x reader#dc imagine#dc blurbs#Dick Grayson x reader#Dick Grayson imagine#Dick Grayson blurb#<3333
48 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
queerstudiesnatural
this barbie loves 1x03 dead in the water
somewhat-supernatural-tardis
They call me Homo Milk
tnpx
*Unambiguously Colorful* by That B!tch On Xanga
tnpx
*Unambiguously Colorful* by That B!tch On Xanga