#fuck your orange undertone ass
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its wild to me how western european beauty standards even effected me as a child. my blonde, blue-eyed ass. i'd tan and come inside to look at my skin and it was "darker" in a way thats not conventionally understood as beautiful, I thought I was "supposed" to have more red and orange pigment when I tanned
like this
but instead it was more like
this and it always made me feel insecure on a subconscious level, like i wasnt the "right type of tan" or something :/
anyways, everyone with olive skin is beautiful and fuck them other color undertones sdjkhbvsfgdvghsdfhgvdfshvgfdgshv
#fuck your red undertone ass#fuck your orange undertone ass#fuck your pink undertone ass#im green bitch and im a beautiful snake man.#im the evil swarthy bad guy type of tan not the blonde preppy barbie good girl type of tan :/#THIS is why i resonate w bruno btw bc they LITERALLY DID THE THING#everyone else has these warm or neutral skin tones besides him#and they demonize him and he has the cool olive tone and hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh#hes just like me hes just like me fr#ok well. felix has a cool undertone. BUT ITS NOT OLIVE. its like. purple-y almost.#isabellas kinda olive toned but shes a warm olive so the Good Guy olive 😒😒😒😒😒😒😒😒😒😒😒😒😒😒😒#apparently the greyer you are in complexion the more evil you get according to disney idk#no fr look at captain hook vs peter pan. look at maleficent vs sleeping beauty. look at jafar vs aladdin!#look at scar vs mufasa!!!! repunzel vs mother gothel!!!!#like!!! every villain!!!! cooler toned or cool olive toned! disney!!!! who hurt you !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#ik its not disney but. rasputin in anastatia. fuck even like. the bad guys who wanna marry thumbelina?#a literal green ass toad. a literal blue ass beetle. a literal brown ass mole. ok don bluth who tf hurt YOU too?
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what about a sequel to the plug!zoro cheating on you w/ his girl? he broke up with her. some time goes by and zoro & y/n are at a kick back, getting a little frisky with each other and boom she just shows up.
no because you two would be at some barbecue held in franky’s massive backyard. of course the party animal had to have a pool, so you and the girls were dressed in small fitting bikinis. franky of course couldn’t keep his eyes off robin in her violet colored two piece, and nami sported an orange bikini top that was entirely too small for her tits with small shorts. yours was an olive green color working so well with your undertones, you didn’t even realized that it was damn near similar to zoro’s hair color till people pointed it out.
zoro was sitting against a beach chair with his back to the seat as he smoked on a backwood with you perched into his lap. he proudly took turns betweeen taking a pull of his weed and kissing you on the lips, the two of you sharing the routine for the last few hours.
“zoro get in the pool! it’s nice, haha!” luffy giggled excitedly. “we’re playing tag!”
zoro couldn’t help but roll his eyes at his childish best friend. “i’m good, thanks.” he gestured to his lit wood. with a look up to you, he saw you scrolling through your phone as you rested your side against his body. “y’wanna go in the pool mama?”
you shake your head. “got wet for the day already,” you reply, but do a double take when you see zoro smirk at you.
with a large hand gripping the flesh of your fatty ass, he teased, “yeah? when?”
you kissed your teeth and slapped his chest. “stop bein’ nasty you perv. ‘m finna call the cops.” zoro laughs at your threat before taking another pull of his wood.
“yeah, whatever you say, baby.”
you two end up spending the next few minutes making out, without a care in the world. zoro and your entire friend group didn’t bat an eyelash at the fact that you two were together. zoro had finally broken up with his girlfriend, but he was sure that it wasn’t the case on her end. she was delusional, worse than you.
you spend time in the boy’s arms, getting a whiff of his day old cologne and masculine musk as you two watch videos on your phone. the giggles and laughterspread amongst your friends had stopped and was replaced by numerous yells.
your own friends had joined the party just hours ago, your closest friend armani somewhere in the corner making out with nami. but when you heard armani’s familar loud voice from across the pool, that was when you grew concerned.
suddenly, a familiar figure storms their way over to your direction. “hey, you’re like trespassing on private property bro!” franky yelled as he tried to chase after the girl. within thirty seconds, zoro’s girlfriend—or as he says, ex— is in front of you.
she gives you one look before letting out a laugh. “of course. i knew you’d be fucking with her.”
zoro furrowed his eyebrows. “the fuck did you find me?”
the red girl points to her phone angrily. i fucking tracked your car and phone here!”
“ooh, damn,” you hear usopp turn and pretend to mind his business. but from his side eye and the corner of his long nose, you could tell he was still being nosy. by now, the entire party was.
“you fucking tracked me? are you insane?” zoro delicately lifts you up to place you next to him on the seat so he could properly sit up. “we’re not fucking together no more!”
“that’s not fair, zoro!” his ex cried. “you did that shit out of nowhere, i think i deserve some sort of explanation!”
standing up, you try to mediate the situation. “girl, i think y’all should step inside so no one hears—“
“i don’t owe you a fuckin’ explanation!” zoro exclaims from behind you.
“fuck you, you whore!” the girl points at you. “you’ve been fucking my boyfriend from the start, you dirty bitch!”
now you grow angry. “i’ve been fucking ‘your boyfriend’ since we were sixteen,” is all you say, knowing that would get under her skin. it was true though, zoro’s always wanted you, even before he started selling. you just never cared to give his ass the time of day mostly. “and you met him when, two years ago? please lil girl.”
zoro’s ex scoffs. “yeah okay, home wrecking whore—“
“you sure? i coulda sworn it was a section 8 apartment with the way you’re always up on niggas that’s not him!”
you wouldn’t even call your relationship with zoro homewrecking, not when you had him first and have been on and off with him since you both were teenagers. you just never anticipated that the little fling he had with the girl woulf have turned into something at the very least semi-serious. besides, you’d never fucked zoro when he was in a committed relationship with his then girlfriend at the time. out of simple respect for her, you had stepped back from him and whatever he had going on with her until he assured you that he was done with her and only wanted you.
“don’t get me started bitch before i hurt your feelings,” you threatened, giving the shorter girl a hard look.
zoro’s ex rolls her eyes. “yeah? you think he wants you when he’s coming home to me every other night?”
now you were on ten. “you gotta get a refund on that tracker baby cuz it aint telling the truth. not when the nigga live at my house. you check behind his ear lately? who name on that shit?”
color drains from the girl’s face as she watches zoro look at her with blank eyes. low and behold was your name in a beautiful script font, right behind his ear. his favorite spot he loved for you to kiss.
“you’re insane as fuck. you tried to track this nigga, trap this nigga, thinking a baby gon make him stay. he doesn’t fucking want you!” you scream. you were never this mean. but she was testing your nerves, and you had to show her you didn’t even play like that. “now you just got embarrassed. right after i told you to go inside with him on that bullshit.”
zoro’s ex makes a move to plunge towards you, but zoro successfully catches her in his strong grasp. “let me go!” the girl screams, attemtpinf to lunge at you. you mirror her actions, only to be held back by franky’s own strong grip.
“zee, take your bitch outside before i beat her ass bro!” you heathe, glaring at the girl who was matching your expression. even he couldn’t contain your anger at the moment. it was good franky was holding you back. zoro does as told and practically hauls his ex out the backyard on his shoulder. from a distance, you can see her calm down and melt into his embrace.
“that was some crazy shit,” usopp breathed out.
as if on cue, luffu exits the house with a big BBQ chicken leg in his hand, food stuffed in his mouth. “what the hell happened?”
#lora’s shit talk! ੈ✩‧₊˚#im back#just a lil sum sum#till i really cook#plug!zoro#plug!zoro x black reader#plug zoro x black reader#plug zoro#plug zoro x chubby reader#roronoa zoro x black reader#zoro x black reader#roronoa zoro x chubby reader#zoro x chubby reader#one piece x black reader#one piece x black!reader#one piece smut#zoro smut#plug zoro x reader#roronoa zoro x reader#zoro x reader
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open the gates, let me in
summary. jeno always seems willing to do anything for you, and it takes a lot of inner nagging for him to finally realize why.
pairing. jeno x y/n ft donghyuck, jaemin
genre. fluff, college au, best friends to lovers
disclaimers. swearing, denial resonates so deeply with me its humiliating
word count. 4.0k
released. 02.05.23
author's note. feedback is appreciated! BAEKHYUN IS BACK FROM WAR 🙏🏻 WE CHEERED
masterlist
For what feels like the nth time this hour, a certain honey-skinned boy shamelessly rolls his eyes at one of his best friends. That title, however, is in serious danger of being revoked if he has to spend one more agonizing second in this store.
"Give me one good reason I shouldn't ditch your ass right now," Donghyuck jeers. His habit of poking his cheek with his tongue shines through as impatience radiates off of his body.
Jeno ignores his complaining, eyes diligently scanning the rows of colourful fragrance bottles.
He's quite overwhelmed. The labels, brands, scents, and undertones—they all mean nothing to him. The only thing he's somewhat familiar with is the brand of the cologne he takes a liking to, but the strong woods and smokes of the men's cologne selection is a distinct opposite of what he’s looking for.
It leaves him to stand cluelessly among the shelves of white flowers and citruses and berries, trying to pick out the combination he thinks you'd like the most.
"Where would you even go? I drove," Jeno deadpans.
He gently picks up a translucent, pale red bottle. Blood orange and peony.
Popping off the cap, he spritzes a tiny bit on his inner wrist and brings it up close to his nose. The scent is like a punch in the face, leaving him reclining back with a furrowed brow.
Too strong.
"We're going to be late to Jaemin's if you don't hurry the fuck up," Donghyuck says, burning holes through Jeno's skull before letting out a deep sigh.
"Can you just pick one so we can go? We look like fucking idiots here."
Jeno only hums, cracking a small smile.
He couldn't chide him for being wrong—the two of them look very out of place. Their sharp silver jewelry, inked skin, and dazed boyish smiles contrast against the dainty bottles standing atop the soft pink shelves of the women's fragrance section like black on white.
"Firstly," Jeno begins, voice riddled with amusement. "You don't give a fuck about punctuality-"
"Oh look at you, going off with your big words."
Jeno spins around. "Hyuck, you're drinking a matcha frappucino while looking like that."
He points at the green drink the boy was sipping on, the extra whipped cream he asked for contradicting his hard exterior.
Donghyuck scoffs. "Sorry I don't like to drink death in a cup," he drawls, sarcasm dripping off his tongue.
He breaks his glare on the black-haired boy as he sees two girls standing a distance away, his face doing a 180 as he notices them not-so-discreetly staring.
Smirking, Donghyuck confidently throws them a wink. He watches with pride as flattered giggles spill from their lips, before turning back to Jeno, who had picked up another bottle.
"Why are you even doing this?" Donghyuck asks out of genuine curiosity, though it's hidden underneath the guise of annoyance.
"Y/N asked me to."
Here’s some money. Get me something you think I'd like, yeah? you had said. Or something that you'd like. I'll still wear it, I don't care. I trust your judgment.
Donghyuck snorts. "I'm convinced you'd do anything for Y/N," he mutters.
It's an offhand comment, yet it makes the black-haired boy put his tongue between his teeth as a weird, sprawling feeling erupts in his chest.
The thought of why he seemed willing to do anything for you had never occurred to him. Not because the thought had never shown up to the gates of his consciousness—Jeno was uncomfortably familiar with the strange feeling in his stomach when you were around—but because he never let it in.
He doesn't dare to let it in, even going as far as telling it to leave and never return each time it knocks—because if he did, he would spend hours in this perfume section, legs going numb from standing as it invaded and overtook his brain, preventing him from getting anything done.
His eyes land on one last bottle. It's a clear one, with a clean, minimalistic label.
Lazy Sunday Morning. Maison Margiela.
Jeno repeats the action he's done with multiple bottles by now; spritzing the fragrance onto a new, untouched area of his inner arm and bringing it up to smell.
It's soft, it's floral, it's feminine. It infiltrates his senses in the way fresh, cotton bed sheets would. The soft sun after the rain.
It's how you look when he comes over to your apartment unannounced on a random weekend morning: wearing an oversized white shirt and a pair of high-waisted sports shorts.
It's the strawberry lip gloss that always stains your lips. It's your Hello Kitty pillowcase that you wash way more often than Jeno washes his, for which you constantly nag him for being unhygienic.
It's your flushed, red face at parties, your preference for tea over coffee—your smaller, softer hand grabbing his calloused one when he gets nervous.
Jeno thinks it's you, and he hopes you think it's you too.
He slowly turns around to Donghyuck, who's fidgeting with the tattered sleeve of his leather jacket.
"Smell this," he prompts, snapping the brown-haired boy out of his daze.
Donghyuck tugs at Jeno's arm, bringing it up to his face and taking a quick whiff before letting it fall. "Smells nice. I'm sure Y/N will like it. Now let's go," he presses, already taking off towards the exit.
Jeno only shakes his head, gaze falling on the bottle he held in his ring-clad fingers. He thinks it would look nice on your vanity, next to all your other bottles of products.
He doesn't know what they do, but they make you, you.
Donghyuck, whose brown strands are now dyed a refreshing purple, throws his head back howling with laughter as he sees you and Jeno approach the food court table.
He receives several displeased stares from nearby people, but he doesn't seem to care in the slightest, only being able to focus on what Jeno is wearing.
"Oh my fucking god, Jeno," he wails incoherently, pointing at his friend's pants while clutching his stomach. "What- what are those?"
Your choice to wear a pair of light-washed, ripped skinny jeans to come to the mall turned out to be a massive mistake. You're bitter towards the person who first said "beauty is pain" because of how miserably right they are; whose idea was it to make girls' pants so uncomfortable?
The walk across the parking lot to the entrance was enough for your legs to start screaming for relief, resulting in you pleading with Jeno to switch with you.
Jeno drops down into the empty seat next to Jaemin, letting out a deep sigh. He rubs at his temples as Donghyuck's high-pitched, maniacal laughter erratically rings throughout the air.
This is exactly why he was adamant about declining your request; Lee Donghyuck is an entity of pure evil, and Jeno felt the humiliation creeping up on him from behind like a tiger ready to pounce.
But as he always seems to do, he relented.
Now, his sweatpants sit comfortably on your hips, bunching up at your ankles while he wears your jeans, the pant ends stopping halfway up his calves.
"She was chafing," he mutters, referring to you.
Donghyuck laughs loudly and unapologetically, reaching down to poke at Jeno's bare knee through the large rips of the jeans. His actions result in him getting a hard slap on the arm, eliciting a pained "ow!" from him.
You give Jeno a sweet smile, slipping him another whispered apology before feeling a gentle tug at your wrist.
Renjun begins to drag you away from the table, mumbling something along the lines of "new premium watercolour set" and "20% off". Jumping up from his seat, Donghyuck follows suit with a devilish smile etched on his face, immediately asking the shorter boy to buy him a vinyl he had his eye on from earlier.
Jaemin watches as the three of you fade into the crowd of customers, leaving only him and Jeno at the table. As soon as you disappear from his sight, he whips around with anticipation. "So?"
A shaky blink. "So..?"
"So? Have you thought about what I said?"
Jeno doesn't respond as he stills, his lips pursed carefully.
Of course he had thought about what Jaemin said.
He tried his goddamn hardest not to, just like he has with every other possible reasoning behind his feelings that wandered into scary, uncharted territory—but how could he not? It wasn't something that he could just forget, like remembering to wash his socks or buying milk.
A week ago, Na Jaemin had brought upon him a revelation that was far too casually dropped at one of the group's regular get-togethers. It was like a silent bomb, and it had been doing no less than eating at him alive.
He wants to deny it so badly. In fact, that's exactly what he's been doing—denying its possibility of being true, denying its existence at all.
If it was going to slip through the cracks of the iron gates, Jeno was going to make sure it felt as unwelcome as possible.
And that's exactly what he does.
"I have," he begins meekly.
Upon hearing these words, Jaemin's lips stretch into a wide smile. "And?"
"...and I don't think you're right."
The lights in the younger's eyes flicker out just as quickly as they turned on. He doesn't even bother to hide his disappointment, giving his best friend a deadpan stare. "Are you serious?"
"Yes."
He was expecting this reaction from Jaemin, but he couldn't let it get to him. Not when he couldn't let the narrative Jaemin was pressing so adamantly a week ago be true.
A loud sigh rips through the air. "Jeno, why are you so in denial?"
"I'm not in denial. It's not true."
Jaemin leans forward, looking into his best friend's eyes. He could tell there was a deep, buried sense of longing behind those dark irises.
"Lee Jeno," he begins slowly.
"I have known you nearly my entire life. I have been by your side since we were puny, disgusting first graders, and I have never seen you be so caring towards someone."
Jaemin has always doted on you.
He reminds you of a worrying mother; a fairy who is always there to remind you to dress warmly and take your vitamins. When you had a fever, Jeno had knocked on the door of your apartment only to be let in by Jaemin, who had been in your kitchen making his mother's soup recipe for you.
Donghyuck is the playful, sarcastic brother you never had.
He's the one who always encourages you to down another shot, to get you to do crazy things like jumping off the roof into a pool. But he's warm when he needs to be; Jeno had walked in one night through the door of his and Donghyuck's shared apartment to find you dumping your emotions onto the honey-skinned boy's shirt as he whispered words of consolation.
Renjun indulges your passionate side.
You share so much in common with him and you value his opinion like a sacred script. He's your 3AM therapist for your woes, he's your debate opponent for any topic—he's the one who encouraged you to chase after your dreams when you had trouble deciding on whether to choose what your parents wanted for you, or what you wanted for yourself.
Jeno thinks he's just Lee Jeno to you.
The captain of the basketball team you met back in junior year of high school, who’s an architecture major at the same university you go to. Your best friend, but only if you thought so.
When it's about the others, Jeno seems to see everything—how they care for you, in what ways they’re integrated into your life—he doesn’t seem to notice how much he cares for you.
He doesn't think about how sometimes, he miraculously finds himself entering your apartment at the crack of dawn to remind you to bring an assignment that's due that day. And when you knock your hand against his, silenting asking for him to hold it, he’ll reluctantly put his cold, mysterious image aside to gently slip his hand into yours.
There was one time when you asked to go stargazing in the dead of the night. Despite the subzero weather outside, not an ounce of regret coursed through his body when he agreed to go with you.
He couldn’t feel his fingers when he was out there, but it didn’t feel like it mattered when he saw you pointing at constellations with a smile of pure euphoria painted on your features.
He doesn’t notice how you notice that he cares.
The way your eyes lit up when he quietly entered your room with medicine and a hot water bottle went unseen by him. You never told him that Renjun was only half of the reason why you chose to pursue art, and that seeing him choose architecture over the path his own parents wanted for him pushed you over the edge.
He seems to remember you curled up to Donghyuck's side, but not how as soon as you saw him walk through the doorway, you gently peeled yourself up from the couch, out of Donghyuck's hold to throw yourself onto him, because you had come to their apartment looking for him. For his hold, for his comfort.
No, he doesn't notice these things because he's selectively blind when it comes to the possibility of there ever being a 'you and him', and it drives Jaemin nuts.
Jaemin laughs, dumbfounded.
"For fucks sake, Jeno," he exclaims, dragging his hands down his face. "You're literally wearing women's jeans right now."
He removes his hands from his face, staring deeply into his best friend's eyes in a last-ditch effort to get through to the stubborn boy.
"You're in love with her."
"I'm sorry."
At this point, you’ve lost track of how many times those two words had left Jeno's lips.
The party downstairs blares in the background, though it’s muffled by the closed door. Jeno’s murmured apologies are the only sounds that fill the air, other than the squelches of water as you squeezed your shirt in the sink.
You turn your head around to look at him, a soft smile tugging at your lips. He’s sitting on the edge of the acrylic bathtub, sliding his rings up and down his fingers with a distant look on his face.
"Stop apologizing. It's okay."
Despite graduating two years ago, Johnny Suh still parties like it’s his full-time job, and being in his second-floor bathroom makes the room feel like it’s a physical manifestation of his spirit.
There’s two lights above the bathroom mirror, though one of them had blown its fuse. It casts a dim, aquamarine light that reaches every corner of the small room, highlighting the slightly frayed shower curtains and dark crevices of the floor tiles. There’s a few shaving products and the remains of a half-smoked blunt strewn across the surface of the otherwise clean countertop.
The reason why you and Jeno are in the bathroom instead of downstairs isn’t one the boy’s proud of.
You didn’t run into Jeno until around halfway through the night. They say you haven’t had the real college experience if you haven’t gone to a Johnny Suh party, and the flocks of people that covered every part of the estate prove how much people value getting their tuition’s worth.
A light sheen of sweat is apparent on your forehead as you try your best to weave your way through the masses. You don’t even know where you’re going, and you could feel it growing stuffier as more people spilled into the halls.
It’s only until you suddenly feel a piercing cold sensation on your chest do you see something other than drunk college students pressed together.
You come face-to-face with Lee Jeno, who’s staring at you with big, round eyes and lips parted in sheer horror.
You glance down at your own body. The center of your chest is several shades darker, a large wet splotch prominently standing out against the beige fabric of your long-sleeved top.
Your eyes dart between your top and Jeno’s red solo cup that had several droplets of liquid dribbling down its side. Realizing what just happened, you can’t help but laugh.
“Why hello to you too, mister,” you say between giggles.
Jeno’s face is flushing redder by the second, and there’s a big bump on his head from the imaginary hammer that struck him for being so stupid.
A few seconds go by of just him staring at you before stutters spill from his lips.
“I- Oh my- oh my god,” he breathes out. “Oh my fucking god, Y/N, I’m so sorry-”
“It’s okay. I needed an excuse to get away from all the noise anyways,” you cut him off, reaching for his free hand.
“Come with me to the bathroom?”
The words flow out of your mouth like a smooth, running stream; casual, and far more relaxed than the jittery feeling in Jeno's stomach. He doesn’t resist in the slightest, the feeling of your touch sending a surge of electricity up his arm.
Finally looking up from the metal around his fingers, Jeno’s breath hitches.
His eyes trail down your figure with innocent intention. The thin straps of your ivory, silk camisole delicately sit on your collarbone, your black miniskirt hugging your waist.
He doesn’t realize he’s even staring, not when he’s mesmerized by the slope of your nose, or the outline of your cupid’s bow.
There’s something that the aquamarine glow is doing to you that makes his jaw go slack.
Usually, he’d be alert, keeping his thoughts in check—but the slight intoxication seeped through him, and he can feel himself growing careless.
Jeno's hand twitches. You're within arm's reach, he could reach for your waist and pull you right into him—but he doesn't, because that would ruin the scene.
This scene of you standing in front of the sink, twisting your shirt in your hands with a small crease in your brow. It's so domestic, so perfect—he can't help but wonder what it'd be like to see you like this every day—
—and then, he hears it.
There it is, the violent banging on the gates. It echoes through the halls from outside, persistent and maybe just a bit desperate. Or, was it actually his heart thumping against his chest?
Open up! it yelled. You would do anything for her. You're in love with her, idiot!
Had it been his heart all along?
"There we go," you give your top one final twist, grinning with satisfaction as the water drips down clear.
You turn the sink off and unravel the top from its scrunched-up form, flapping it a few times to prevent creases.
"That should do it. Okay, let's go back downstairs. Hyuck bet ten dollars I couldn't beat him in beer pong and I'm going to make him eat his wor-"
Your rambling is cut off as soon as you turn toward the boy on the edge of the tub. He's staring at you with misty eyes, and you can't stop yourself from taking a step closer.
"Jeno?" you call, leaning down to meet him at eye level.
Eyes twinkling with mirth, you lower yourself into a crouching position, and your hand finds its place on his knee. You let your fingers drum on the fabric of his black jeans, musing your wonder.
"You're drunk, aren't you? How much have you had to drink?"
The action is mindless, and Jeno knows it. The two of you often shared small, habitual touches—but this time, it's wholly different.
"I'm- I'm not drunk," he croaks out.
A light-hearted snicker. "Sure you aren't."
"I'm not."
"Then why is your face so red?"
"I'm just... thinking about something."'
An amused chuckle leaves your mouth before you muse your wonders, "You're drunk, Jen. But, would you care to share?"
Jeno feels himself unclicking the locks. "Okay," he huffs out nervously.
The iron gates swing slightly ajar.
"I'm thinking about how I would do anything for you."
A pause goes by. The sound of the music downstairs seems to have gotten even louder, to the point where Jeno can't hear his own breathing. He wonders if he's even still breathing as his gaze rests on you intensely, waiting for your reaction.
When your fingers stop drumming against his knee, Jeno's world stops.
"O-oh."
Your expression is indecipherable as his words sink in, eyes growing rounder and your lips part.
Your eyes dart around Jeno's face to see if you can locate a trace of playfulness, a hint that he wasn't thinking straight—and while his flushed, rosy cheeks are a telltale that he's a little intoxicated, his eyes are heavy with sincerity.
He's being serious, and it brings you to a loss for words.
"A-and? What did you conclude?" you manage to stutter out, peering up at him.
This is exactly what he was afraid of. Afraid of your disappointed expression, your lips ready to utter the inevitable words he wished he'd never have to hear.
He's not even sure what those words exactly are, because Lee Jeno feels like a fucking mess right now, but he'll know in a few seconds after you say them—
"I... I don't really know why..."
A lightbulb clicks in your head. You seem to realize Jeno's implications before he even does himself.
"Jeno?" you prompt, voice feather-soft.
The boy's eyes are screwed shut by now, unable to look you in the eyes. He's trying to lock the gates closed again, as they were for so long.
"Hmm?" he weakly hums.
"I love you."
Jeno's attempts are futile. The thought is victorious.
It pushes past his regret-driven efforts. It floods his head akin to a raging tsunami.
It's so loud. The music in the background is so loud.
You are so loud. Your eyes, your grip on his knee, your words—
—they're so loud.
She just said she loves me.
"I've loved you for so long. Do you love me too?" you whisper, hand subconsciously reaching for his.
It shocks Jeno how his voice doesn't fail him. "You love me?"
"I do."
"M-more than a friend?"
"Much more. I love you like I'll never have you, even if I always find myself in your arms," you say, letting out a dry chuckle as a small smile graces your face.
"Do you love me too?" you repeat.
The gates snap off their hinges from the sheer force, and the thought chants a victory song—
You're in love with her!
Jeno blinks.
I'm in love with her.
Jeno never seemed to mind, when it came to you. He never seemed to mind wearing your light blue skinny jeans for you, and he never seemed to mind looking out of place with his grungy demeanor inside of a delicate perfume section either. He never seemed to mind waking up at an ungodly hour for you, and he never seemed to mind holding you when the world was against you.
And as you look at him, your face glimmering underneath the dim, bathroom light—it clicks.
Jeno suddenly realizes why he'd be willing to do anything for you. He'd be willing to get you the moon and the stars if you asked, because he loves you.
And, because you deserve it. It's the least he could do for you for loving him.
Reaching out a wavering hand, Jeno gently pulls you up from your crouching position so the both of you could stand. Your gaze never leaves him, your previous question still hanging in the air.
The boy rests his hand delicately on your jaw. His eyes glaze over your face, taking in your beautiful features before landing on your lips with a shaky exhale.
"Do you love me too?" you ask for a third time, your irises shining with hope.
"Fuck," he breathes out. "I- I do. I love you, so much."
You don't even get the chance to beam at his confession before he closes the distance between the two of you, his soft lips against yours.
#nct scenarios#nct x reader#nct imagines#nct fluff#nct dream x reader#nct fanfic#nct dream imagines#jeno x reader#jeno imagines#jeno fluff#nct oneshot#lee jeno#nct drabbles#nct dream scenarios#jeno#nct jeno#nct dream jeno#jeno scenarios#nct#nct dream oneshot#nct dream#nct dream fluff#lee jeno x reader
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⭒ the girl with the tattoo (vi) - pt 1 pt 2 p3 p4 p5
matt sturniolo x fem!oc / reader
summary : y/n can only deflect her crush on matt for so long
warnings : smut, banter/cuteness, angst at the end
mickey speaks : sooooooo. yeah. enjoy! (also i imagine lucas as luka sabbat)
THIS IS PART SIX GO READ THE OTHERS FIRST PLS
“I’M kind of hungry though,” you groan as you stand in front of your open and very bare (besides two scrawny carrots and a few of andrea’s energy drinks) fridge, pouted mouth and limp wrist holding your phone to your ear.
“i’m sure you are, you always seem to be fucking hungry,” matt’s attitude laces into his comment’s comedic undertone.
“don’t be mean,” you close the fridge and begin to look through the many cabinets in your kitchen that are somehow just as bare. “how the fuck are we completely out of food?!”
“ask your fuckin- move out of the way! go! now, move!” matt’s voice cuts into a rage as his attention directs to the cars around him, who he’d debate the validity of their drivers licenses.
his loudness has you pulling your phone away from your ear to let him finish, then bring it back towards you, “hey, let’s use our inside voices when on the phone with someone…” you smile at your own joke as you dig through a never ending junk drawer for a pen.
“hmm let’s go to the grocery store more often so we’re not having our sneaky link take us to eat,” his comeback is as quick as his lane switching.
“well you sure know how to make a girl feel special,” your sarcasm spews as you begin to write out a list for a much needed grocery trip with andrea tomorrow.
“what are you hungry for?” he speaks over the chimes of his turn signal.
“i don’t know,” you mumble clearly not too focused on figuring out what you’d like to eat.
“what’re you doing right now?” he asks.
“nothing,” you say while biting your inner cheek trying to remember the specific brand of orange juice that andrea recently discovered she prefers.
“okay, i’m pulling up in like five, figure out where you wanna go.”
“please?” you question where his manners are among the frequent demands he throws at you.
“mhm, that too.” he half-asses an agreement, “bye.”
you drop your pen and respond with a quick ‘bye’ before hanging up the phone and tucking it into your purse along with your keys.
౨ৎ
matt's car smells of warm citrus and eucalyptus, in contrast to the coolness of the air he currently has blowing. you glance over to him once you're settled into the leather passenger seat, giving you a view of his soft side profile and torso covered with one of his many black hoodies (as if california temperatures weren’t currently at their highest) that fit his figure well, as he focuses on adjusting his hair in the pull down mirror.
the only light source in the car comes in the soft, off-white lighting synced to the mirror, that shines just enough for you to see his full smirk and head shake when you joke, “got someone to look good for?”
he mutters a light, “barely,” before placing the mirror back against the ceiling and changing gears smoothly. “your babysitter didn’t question you?”
you shake your head and begin to buckle your seatbelt, “no, she’s out with some coworkers for a drink. what about yours?”
“didn’t even notice i left.” he shrugs then gestures to the navigation screen that’s now dimly lit, “where do you wanna eat?” your silence speaks volumes to him, “how'd i just know you'd pull this shit? i told you to have it figured out by the time you got in the car!” he groans and looks over to you.
you try to hide a smile due to his irritance, “okay, and what if i just don’t know, matt?!” your hands turn and face the ceiling to show the genuine unsureness of your appetite.
“then, you must not be that hungry,” he shrugs.
you redirect your eyes from him to the road in front of you, “i miss when you were quietly mean, now you’re all obnoxious and loud about it.”
a smirk finds its way to matt's face as he continuously looks from you to the road until you finally look back over to him. “sorry, that was also mean. i don’t hate when you talk, even though you’re rude as fuck.”
matt laughs off the apology he wasn't even seeking from you, “jesus, i wasn't gonna cry over it.”
your stomach is weeping and begging for you to pick a place to eat at this point causing you to lean your head against the window (though you find the vibrations from the motor and awkward dips from the road make the position more uncomfortable than anything) and eye the blurs of brightly lit, primary colored signs. it becomes a little dizzying but eventually slows as matt eases on the brakes.
during the brief pause you take time recognize your surroundings more and just as matt starts to go through the intersection, a breath gets caught in your throat when you spot a small local store you remember going to with remi for lunch a few months back, “wait!”
matt slams on his brakes with a sudden look of fear in his eyes, rocking the both of you far forward then slamming you back into the seats. his face turns to frustration when you laugh a little and ask, “can we stop at that bodega right there?” while pointing out the window.
he raises a hand in view of his back windshield to apologize to the person behind him as he speeds off again and scolds you, "do you have any fucking etiquette?"
"oh wow, that’s a big word for you, matt!" you celebrate. he then takes a sharp turn into the rural parking lot, making you grip the side door as you jump along with the car.
you watch as he easily parks the car and turns off the ignition with a huff, "i doubt some convenience store snacks are gonna hold you over, but whatever."
"never doubt a small local market, this place has a bomb ass hole-in-the-wall sandwich shop and you wouldn’t even know." you defend while opening the car door.
౨ৎ
you lead matt inside while he unashamedly stares at how your hips move as you walk- your skin naturally exposed due to your low waisted lounge pants and small tank top (which makes him want to do nothing more than squeeze, lick, and kiss the area).
you greet the bored cashier the way you tend to greet anyone: as if you know them, and make your way to the back side of the store, the smell of toasted bread gaining potence in the air as you approach.
matt continues to follow as he glances around the very average looking store, with aisles of typical name-brand foods and drinks.
you stop near a bulletin board with a makeshift menu and read over each option. when matt gets closer to you, you feel the need to explain yourself as if it wasn't clear enough, "'m tryin' to figure out what i want."
he only replies with an "mhm," as he focuses on options for himself.
you both take turns separately ordering and paying for food (of course you had to tease him for making it seem as though you being hungry was such a hassle) and find a small table to sit at.
you fiddle with the table caddy, "watch. this will be the best sandwich of your life."
matt sits opposite of you, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed, "better be. you had me driving crazy to get to this place."
"i said i was sorry about that!" you dramatically remind him of the apology you gave him when you two initally walked up to the store.
“order for y/n?” the same man (with a heavy east coast accent) you ordered from peeks his head out.
you send matt a smile before getting up and walking over to the window, “thank you so much, it smells amazing.” you compliment.
“‘course and, uh, we’ve got that second order ready as well if you want to take it over,” he offers.
“yeah, i’ll go ahead and take it.” you take the wrapped and acronym-labeled sandwiches in each hand, thanking him once more before beginning to walk over to the table.
“oh how sweet are you? bringin’ my sandwich to me and shit,” matt chuckles as he runs his tongue over his teeth casually.
“a ‘thank you’ would’ve been more than enough,” you take your seat again. the shuffles of wax paper wrapping and distant chimes of the bell near the entrance is the only noise surrounding both of you for your first few bites.
you pause eating to ask, “how’s your sandwich?” you direct your sandwich towards him as both of your hands are occupied in holding said sandwich.
he covers his mouth with a fist as he finishes chewing, nodding his head to give away his answer. he’s not really one to eat for flavor alone so his answer is mediocre, “yeah, it’s good. yours?” he questions while going in for another bite.
“so amazing,” you draw out and jokingly moan into your next bite.
matt’s face scrunches and he can’t wait until the food is out of his mouth to deliver his comment, “gross, just eat your food without all the effects.”
you put up your index finger so that you can swallow before replying, “you really have the nerve to say that through the shit ton of food in your mouth?”
he shrugs and gives a sarcastic smile with his cheeks bunched out and full of his sandwich.
you take a sip of your diet coke before asking, “‘kay, so what’d you do today?” you’re just generally curious and admittedly not the best at being quiet or reserved when around other people.
matt sighs, “you know…talking really takes away the point of this.”
“oh my god, answer the question. don’t be unfun, matt.”
“’m just tryin' to eat,” he laughs through his nose.
“okay, then i’ll go first but you still have to tell me about your day after,” you decide.
“fine,” matt uses a napkin to wipe his mouth a little.
“well, i woke up so fucking early today, i had to get to work by like 5:30 to start helping with an order of six cakes. luckily we prepped a lot the day before and carmen is like the best coworker to have to do that long shift with.”
“six cakes? for one order?”
“yeah, it was for a family reunion and they called about some dietary restrictions for certain cakes plus the different flavors- just shit to make our job harder. but love my job regardless, and the woman who picked them up looked so happy,” you take another sip of your drink, “but after that i went home and basically napped until you called.”
“this is the first thing you’re eating today?” he doesn’t care too much that you haven’t eaten today, rather uses it as an excuse to get you to continue eating so the you both can leave (or maybe this is just what he tells himself).
“i mean i ate some boiled eggs whenever i had down time at work, but yeah i guess.”
“and look at you, wasting your time yappin’ instead of eating. there’s truly no helping you,” he shakes his head slowly back and forth in faux disappointment.
you ignore him, “okay, your turn.” his eyebrows pinch and he takes a sip of his drink, telling you he won’t be answering if you don’t start to eat, “look! i’m eating,” you take a bite to prove yourself.
“right…uhh what did i do today?” he looks up in memory. “i tatted some guy’s face earlier, i guess that was a bit intense.”
“um, yeah that’s intense, what’d he get?!”
“the outline of peru above his cheekbone." matt circles the area on his own face, "it was actually really sentimental; he told this whole story about his mom immigrating here from peru.“
“that's so sweet. did he say why he wanted it on his face?”
matt shrugs, “he wanted to try somewhere he hasn’t before.”
you nod, “and was this your first face tat?”
“no, i’ve done a few before, just haven’t in a while.” matt leans back and scratches the back of his neck to stretch. “ever since i posted that pic of your tat i’ve been booked by all theses girls who want cartoon designs, now nick’s pissed i’m stealing his clientele since ‘it’s his specialty.’”
“well my hello kitty is precious so i can't blame them." you pause, "are you fucking these girls too?” you look at matt before you begin to giggle to yourself and take your final bite.
matt’s eyes widen and he lets a small laugh escape, “no, that kinda luck can only come so often. and how slutty would i be to hookup with all of my clients?” though he wouldn’t call you strictly a client anymore- but he doesn’t correct it since he’s unsure if the two of you are necessarily friends either.
“one: don’t hype yourself too much, two: there’s nothing wrong with being a slut, matt. you should embrace your nature.” you smile before gesturing to his last bit of sandwich and mocking, “catch up now, you’ve been doing all that talking and no eating! i'm starting to lose hope.”
౨ৎ
"matt, where the fuck are we?" you raise yourself up a little to look around. you’re parked in a large city center parking lot with few cars and dimming street lights.
“shhh, sit down.” he absentmindedly calms you, speaking in a low voice while typing on his phone. you lean back into your seat, bored enough that you opt to watching your hands rise and fall with your stomach as you breathe.
he continues tapping at the screen for the entirety of the next song, making you grow impatient and confused. is he expecting you to make the first move right now? did he bring you here to have sex? who the fuck is he texting?
you move yourself closer to him so that your elbows rest against the center console and hold your head up. "matt," you whisper.
he doesn't answer but you notice his eyebrows are furrowed and angled.
"matt," you repeat and guide your hand up his arm, firmly squeezing his shoulder.
"mm?" he looks over to you for a second, then out the windshield before his eyes fixate on his phone once more.
"what'd you bring me here for...?" your voice is laced with intentional seduction as your hand moves back down his arm to play with the slim silver bracelet hanging on the wrist of his occupied hand.
"y/n, hold on," somehow his voice is just as distracted as his eyes.
you pout, "can you, like, look at me?" you see him picking at the skin of his lip, only looking at you when your hair falls in front of his phone as you lean to press your lips to the hand you've been messing with.
he moves his hand to capture your bottom lip softly between his thumb and the side of his index finger, finally giving in with a small “yeah?”
before you get a word out a few taps hit matt’s window making both of you flinch and pull back. you’re so caught off guard and feel exposed in a way after having your face so close to matt’s lower half. you’re nervous as to why someone would randomly come to matt’s window, until matt willingly lowers it.
you move your head to the side to get a better view of the lanky man with deep caramel skin and arched dimples that pop when he speaks, “yooo, matt! what’s up?” they dap each other up through the open window.
“fucking finally,” matt sighs with a laugh.
he kisses his teeth, “look i got your shit right here. have some faith in me, brother.” he leans to grab a small bag from one of his cargo pant pockets as matt reaches for his sleek black wallet.
you try to keep yourself leveled and not ask a million questions about this whole predicament, but you’re feeling quite left out.
matt carelessly grabs the plastic bag from the guy while he continues to sift through his wallet with only one hand, before handing you the bag without even looking your way. once it’s in your hand you use the light of your phone to get a better look, noticing the unground weed in the bag. you scrunch your face and place it in your lap.
you don’t pick up on much of matt’s conversation until you’re brought up, “who’s your friend?” the guy leans further onto the car.
“no one you’d need to know,” matt shrugs, pulling out a few unscathed bills and handing them with a smile.
you squint your eyes at the insult to your existence he's implied calling you ‘no one,’ before reaching over matt with an extended hand, “hi, i’m y/n.”
he glances at matt, who’s shooting daggers into the side of your head with his eyes, then looks to you, “i’m lucas, nice to meet you.” his eyes and smile both very dopey.
“how’d you meet such a hush guy like matt?” you inquire and feel a smile forming as matt surprisingly allows you to continue this conversation.
“his brother nick does like all of my tattoos,” he pulls up his sleeve to show a collection of pieces in various styles. “next thing i know, i got three trusty customers!” he giggles and looks to matt who puts on an obvious fake smile. you turn your face to see him and feel yourself smile wider at his expense.
“yep…” matt replies.
you quickly turn back to lucas and look closer at his sleeve, “oh wow, nick is fucking talented.” matt fights from moving you back into your seat and driving off as fast as possible. “matt actually gave me one,” you lift yourself back into your seat, using matt’s thigh for support, and begin to move your shirt out of the way.
“hmm, right,” matt takes your shirt in his own hand to cover the spot once more, “we actually have somewhere to be like now.” he looks over to lucas and gives an impressively collected smile, “‘m sorry to cut it short, man. you know we gotta hang out soon.”
“for sure, i’ll have to text you," lucas nods, "and maybe i’ll see you around too, y/n. just stay pretty.” he points to you as he back away from the car. “get her home safe now, matthew.” he throws in the extra joke.
“uh huh, thanks for the smoke,” matt chuckles dryly and gives a bitter half-ass peace sign before rolling his window up. he looks over to you, with your legs sprawled in an awkward yet comfortable way and full smile on your flushed face, “fuck are you smilin’ about?”
“you brought me here for a fucking drug deal?!” you try to control the laugh in your throat.
“look you got your sandwich, i got my weed,”
“i don’t think those are com-” you mumble even though matt’s words never pause for you.
“we both were dragged somewhere, so it’s fair.” matt shrugs with pouted lips as he lifts the center console in search of the dope he’d just bought, “where’d you put it?” you then hold the bag up for him to see, but as he reaches for it you move back slightly. “you’re not funny, dude, give it.”
“come get it,” you look at the bag then over to matt’s unentertained face.
“y/n, that shit won’t work on me. we’re in my car and you don’t know the first thing about rolling.” he props his hand up expecting you to give up at this point. “stop playing.”
“why can’t you just play a little matt? you’re so worked up and mad most of the time,” your cheeks puff a little when you let out an annoyed breath.
“i wouldn’t say mad but,” matt’s eyes widen with the word in exaggeration but he knows you don’t actually want to debate over his mood so he recovers smoothly, moving his body to fully face you, “ alright, we can play, sweetheart.”
he leans closer, “how about about we play you give me my shit and then i’ll fuck you,” in reality the bag of weed is easily within snatching range, but the tension of coercing it out of you entertains matt more.
“that’s not a fun trade when you were gonna do that anyway,” the way your full lips move has matt itching to lay them against his own.
“no i wasn’t,” he whispers, and now that you’ve both now gravitated towards each other, practically at each other’s faces, you get a special view of his eyes and the way his cheeks pinch inward when he lies.
“really?”
he plays along, nodding while looking down in faux disappointment, though you can see him start to hide a giggle of some sort.
“damn. maybe i’ll have to take your phone next and get lucas to come back for me.” you sigh, and go to reach for his phone.
matt grabs your hand looks back to your devious face. “hell no, keep my friends off your roster.”
you purse your lips, “oh really? but you can do whatever you want with my-?” you’re cut off with a small kiss that grows as you reciprocate.
you’re too caught up in the proximity and heat to focus on matt’s hand that finds and takes the bag without fight. he pulls away (far too quickly) just to tease, “too easy.” he holds the bag up and stashes it in his side door. “and now you’ll have to wait until we get back to mine.”
౨ৎ
matt's beyond frustrated when he shows up to find his driveway lined with cars and general rowdiness that can be seen through the windows. you had some jokes at his expense to make as he drove off and away from his house to find the street you're currently parked on.
he's pretty silent until he eventually gets over himself due to his extreme horniness he's suppressed for longer than he expected when calling you. "well, 'm sorry my house is a bit occupied at the moment."
you face him, "no, it's fine." you unbuckle your seatbelt and move to hover over his face, placing a small kiss on his lips then pulling away, "right?"
matt raises his head to look at you, making you glance away from his eyes and down to his lips as you lick your own. and just as your tongue slips back into your mouth, matt is recapturing your lips in a needy kiss.
as the kiss deepens he takes a hold of the area where your head and neck split, holding any of your hair there with it. your tongue plays against his lips before he finally allows you to feel into his mouth a little.
you both kiss and play with each others' lips as he moves his hands to feel down your waist and tug on your waistband to urge you closer to him. you don’t listen though, instead greedily enjoying the slow movement of your lips.
matt pulls away at your disobedience and reclines his seat in one swift motion. you sigh to yourself at the loss of contact, still angled oddly over the center as you bite your bottom lip to mimic matt’s kiss.
he pats his lap and reaches for your arm, softly demanding, “c’mere.” with his physical encouragement you move your body to crawl onto him and settle easily in his lap. matt’s eyes never leave the place where your bodies meet as his hands squeeze at your hips and then your ass.
you lean down to kiss at his neck, causing your boobs to go into matt’s line of sight. he brings his hands up to give them a small squeeze before reaching into your tiny tank top to expose them fully.
you moan into his neck and lift yourself up to watch as matt swirls his tongue around your left nipple while caressing the right. “mmm,” you hum and encourage while your hands play with the hair at the nape of matt’s neck.
he lets go of one with a small pop, muttering “you’re so hot,” against the other. as your hips grind softly you can feel his dick, heavy and hard under you. he pauses his play, “you feel it, sweetheart, go ahead and do somethin’ about it.”
you moan softly and begin to grind against him. he continues to suck and fiddle with your nipples until they're sensitive and causing you to whine.
you then slowly adjust your tits back into place and crawl lower, watching your head of the wheel and watching your legs of the pedals. matt assumingly leans back and plays with the drawstring of his shorts while licking his lips, watching your every move. and finding it very fucking hot that you want to suck his dick so bad you’d sit on the rough, brushed carpet of his car.
you run your fingers up his thighs and beg with your eyes for matt to show himself to you. eventually, he purses his lips and begins to adjust his pants lower, relieving his member of anticipation.
you bite at your bottom lip subconsciously as you adjust yourself closer to him. matt keeps hold of the base, tapping himself against your closed mouth a few times, before you reveal your tongue to him. you run your mouth over him once before gathering your sticky saliva to spit softly on his tip. matt whines at the sensation and grows louder the second you take him fully into your mouth.
the way his eyebrows ruffle together and his mouth forms the most perfect ‘o’ shape is so breathtaking and drives you to continue working him in hopes that he only grows needier.
one of his hands finds the back of the headrest to grip while the other begins to move your hair for you into a harsh, makeshift ponytail. “mmm, fuck. keep goin’, baby.”
you allow all of him into your mouth, reaching the back of your throat before you pull off of him and begin to use your hand on his slick cock. “you like that?” you ask and you look so innocent and so genuinely intrigued at his answer that he can only answer in a groan. you kiss his tip in your own exchange of words with him without actually saying anything, then swirl your tongue around it as you bring him back into your wet mouth.
“yeah- just like that, mmm.” his voice is rough and strained a little as he guides your head continuously. your pace changes over the next few strokes, growing rapid and sloppier with time. matt's low moans and words of encouragement leave you feeling both desperate for his release and your own pleasure and fulfillment he'd give you afterwards.
without warning you, he takes hold of your head and forces himself fully in your mouth, unapologetically spilling his cum down your throat. once he's slumped and breathing heavily you pull off of him, a string of grotesque spit attaching you and his spent dick, and wipe your face with the back of your hand softly.
you force him to make room for you and sit up as you crawl back into his lap, the skin of your knees indented with the carpet's texture. "you're so fucking good," matt compliments in a daze while holding the bridge of his nose.
you kiss the corner of his open mouth and smirk, "too easy."
౨ৎ
"why does it keep biting me?!" chris yelps.
you and andrea never expected to own any kind of pet in recent years, due to both of your awkward schedules and mutual irresponsibility for your actions (finding it appropriate that you both learn to care for yourselves before an animal, no matter how tempting). but that was before you both found a tiny black kitten near a local bus stop that almost had you in tears.
you scooped him up easily and held him in your lap the entire drive home with andrea looking over and cooing at each red light she'd hit.
the entire day was spent googling, then bathing him, then googling if it was okay to use dish soap on a baby kitten, all while you both were clawed at and splashed the entire time.
but you and andrea have settled into cat motherhood well. recently you both went half on buying a cat tree (that is honestly way too big for your tiny living area) and decided to get your friends to help build it.
"he probably doesn't like you," nick suggests while twisting a screwdriver, legs sprawled on the floor.
"i'm sure he doesn't like anything with a name like figaro." chris deepens his voice when stating the cat's name and rolls his eyes.
"shut up, chris!" andrea calls from the kitchen.
"y/n, do you guys have any batteries?" erin asks as she opens the packaging of the cat toy she brought as a gift for figaro.
you smile at the ball of black fur at her side, clumsily punching the cardboard and plastic wrapping before nodding your head and placing your glass on the table, "yeah, which kind?"
"uh, triple a, three of them please."
you head to a closet down the hall to gather the batteries, fumbling with the top shelf a little. you don't hear when the bathroom door next to you opens and matt walks out, only recognizing when you hear his voice, "need some help?"
"no, thank you," you glance at him behind you and smile, giving a final stretch to reach the packaging. "see?" you show him the package in your hand proving he had no reason to even ask.
he smirks and stops you from closing the closet door just yet, "you look nice." you thank him and aren't surprised at what falls from his mouth next, "kinda need to paint with you soon."
"i'm sure you do," you almost laugh, due to both matt's undying horniness and the continued reference to painting.
he looks into your eyes carefully as he feels for your side and swipes his thumb over your tattoo. his mouth comes closer, right below your ear, "i'm not playin', i miss it." he leaves a kiss at the spot before he backs away and places his hands together in a prayer position, rocking them back and forth, mouthing "please."
the both of you almost laugh just before he turns to walk back to the group and remi calls for you to bring her a drink on your way back.
only when you're back in the living room your smile, matt once put on your face, drops as your eyes immediately catch erin and matt talking, her leg leaning far onto his as he reads the instructions and makes dry jokes about the toy she'd bought figaro.
you dont interrupt, placing the batteries near erin and taking a seat next to remi. you don't let your emotions manifest in your actions, even if you're starting to feel it a little extra when matt manages to remind you that you really are nothing but a nice fuck to him.
꩜⋆ ˚｡⋆🎱˚
tag list (ily):
@rootbeerworshiper @deadxrx @breeloveschris @saintsturn @honestlybabymiracle @hearts4chris @starrysturniolo @blissfulbellss @aoxash @st7rnioioss @blondiesjailer @cupidsword @nickmillersn1gf @sturnioloa @thinkingabkinkyshit101 @tcvazq @novasturniolo03
#sturniolo triplets#matt sturniolo#chris sturniolo#chris sturniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo fanfic#nick sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#matt sturniolo smut#sturniolo triplets fan fiction#sturniolo triplets smut#matt sturniolo x black!reader#matt sturniolo x you#matt sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo smut#chris sturniolo x you#chris sturniolo x reader
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NAH CUZ THIS ONE CAME OUTTA NOWHERE BUT-
painter!Onyankopon 🧐🧐🧐🧐wat do we thinkkkkkkkk
who wanna paint his pretty lil girlfriend up as a bday gift but thingz start escalating-
you ATEEEEE
“you done?” you asked excitedly as you laid naked on the bed. ony sitting in front of you with a chair and painting set while he gave you a petty eye roll. “mama you only been sitting here for ten minutes. what you think?” he sighed, pencil in hand as he sketched your pretty body onto his cavas. your boyfriend was a very talented and well known artist. he’s had his work shown in many different art museums around the world and you couldn’t be any prouder of him.
people have paid unbelievable prices for his beautiful paintings and even more for customs. you’ve been with him through it all and even though you never said it, ony could always see how entranced you’d look when he’d bring you with him as his “assistant” and decided there was no better time to finally let you shine than your birthday.
“m’almost done wit the first part sexy. just need you to stay still f’me so i get get it done and start mixing my colors for your pretty skin ‘kay?” you nodded your head, apologizing for the movement as you sat as still as you could on your knees. back facing him as you kept your head to the side so he could get your side profile. another ten minutes when by and ony was finally done with the sketch. quietly pulling his paints out to mix them together for your beautiful complexion. “red? maybe lighter like orange? ma you know the color of your undertones?” he asked, while holding up the red and orange paint bottles.
you turned your head a little more so he could see your face, quizzical look already telling him everything he needed to know. “can you put on some music tho? if ima be sitting here like this, i wanna at least have sum playing” ony nodded his head before opening your phone and going to the first playlist he saw, but you already know what he chose when poison by brent faiyaz began to play through the speaker on the bed. the sex playlist.
you didn’t mind it though, humming along to the music as ony continued to work behind his large canvas.
as your music played it was suddenly getting harder for your man to focus. hands beginning to sweat at just the slightest glance of your oiled back. ‘wonder if she oiled the front of her body too’ dirty thoughts clouded ony’s brain as he watched you mindlessly move your hips to the music. “stay still mama. you making this hard f’me” he mumbled as he eyed your neck, then your beautiful shoulders down to your smooth back, stopping at the sight of your beautifully brown ass.
before he knew it, ony was slowly walking up behind you. lightly pushing your back down before rubbing with the swell of your ass. “you changed your mind againnn? now how long is it gon take for you to sketch thissss?” you whined, not thinking anything of his actions until you felt his print brush against your bare pussy. “you so pretty mama” his hands rubbed all over your back, letting the oil spread to his fingers and clothes as he leaned down to kiss from your back to your neck. “wanna put my dick in you, jus the tip ‘cause i still got work t’do”
you nodded your head, already in a lust filled daze as you felt him continue to rub against you with his clothed dick. ony lifted you off the bed slightly by the front of your neck. “can i mama? you gon let me make you feel good?” his whispers went straight to your core. legs already growing weak as you moaned out a weak “yes”. with that ony lightly bent you back over, freeing his dick from his sweats before lining up with your wet entrance.
“j-just the tip right?” your voice was small as you looked back at him. a small smirk made its way to his face as he watched your pretty face contort, dick sinking deep into you before he started thrusting at a steady pace. “you know better than to be believing shit like that ma. pussy too good for me to only let my tip fuck” ony chuckled as he listened to you whine into the sheets. hips already moving hungrily so you can fuck him back.
“seems like you agree wit me, don’t you baby? pussy so fucking wet” his pace quickened, making your moans become louder and more frequent as you reached your arm back. not for him to stop, but for him to hold to keep you grounded while he pounded away at your pretty pussy. “feel so good daddyyy…fuck go harder” ony smiled at the action, eagerly holding your hand in his while he started fucking into you deeper.
the both of your voices harmonized with each other as you continued to fuck each other the way you liked. bodies working together so both of you can reach the orgasms you’ve been wanting since you laid your naked body on the bed. “you so fucking sexy mama. got the most beautiful body i swear” his inked hands ran all over your back, thighs and neck. massaging you as he gave you words of love. “no painting can ever be enough to portray how beautiful you are baby. so glad you mine.”
his dick curved just right, hitting all the places you needed to make you a blabbering mess below him. “l-love you so much…so much daddy. happy t’be yours….yours forever” ony couldn’t help but smile as he listened to you run your pretty mouth. your walls sucking him in as you spoke, like the fact that you were saying you were his turned you on even more. “love you more, h-happy..fuck…happy birthday princess. sorry i can’t finish your painting.”
your body was getting to him. strong arm pushing your back down as he squeezed your hand a little tighter. “want you to fill me up daddy” you moaned, the feeling of his dick twitching already telling you that he was going to cum. ony’s brown eyes rolled to the back of his head, hips pistonning into you even harder as he felt his release on the tip of his tongue.
“gotta show you how much i love you right now”
#aot x black reader#onyankopon x black reader#aot onyankopon#onyankopon x reader#onyankopon x black!reader#aot smut#onyankopon aot#onyankopon smut#onyankopon x black y/n#onyankopon x y/n#aot onyankopon x black reader#aot onyankopon x black!reader#aot onyankopon x black y/n
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well it's love, make it hurt - chapter two
well it's love, make it hurt series
two: watch you hang on every word
series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter
dom!Din Djarin x sub!f!reader
Word Count: 1.2k
Summary: The Mandalorian teases you on a hunt, and you get your revenge.
Warnings: established d/s relationship but only undertones present here, dirty talk, teasing, bounty hunting, reference to alcohol, mild canon-typical violence, sometimes reader can have a turn being a menace as a treat
Originally written for Kinktober 2023 - Day 11: Exhibitionism/Teasing, inspired by @absurdthirst’s Kinktober 2023 prompt list
also on ao3
3 ABY - Summer
“Got eyes on the quarry yet?” you murmur into your drink, taking a tiny sip to keep up appearances. The cantina is a small, but airy, wooden dome. The heavy tarps had been rolled up to let the breeze through the windows, unfortunately also allowing the swollen afternoon sun to shine in right in your line of sight, unable to see more than black shapes at the entrance.
“No, but I’ve got eyes on something else,” Mando says from on the roof across the path, sniper rifle poised and the sun at his back.
You roll your eyes exaggeratedly, knowing he had a good enough view of your profile to catch the movement.
It was your third day staking out the target's alleged watering hole, and coming back another day would be pushing it. Nobody stayed here for long without a reason, and you were running out of them. It was bad enough that you’d had to actually make notes about the local flora to keep up appearances.
“This is, like, my least sexy disguise,” you say. It was also one of your usuals. Nerds, as it turned out, were on the same page as hunters about practical clothing with plenty of storage. You had the requisites for your cover: binocs, glass tubes, tissue samples from various bushes and sprouts, small clippers, and an assortment of tools for gathering specimen. The less obvious pockets had explosives, a switchblade, smoke grenades, and more.
The rusty orange vest and dark olive shirt hung loose enough around your torso to conceal the blaster tucked into your waistband. A commlink is nestled in the ear facing the wall, behind a curtain of your hair.
“I don’t know,” he muses. “Those shorts are pretty short.”
“What has gotten into you today?” You already know the answer. You don’t fuck on hunts, too wary of getting distracted. But the two bounties before this were on the same planet, and now it’s been over a week since you had touched him. And maybe you had left the fresher door open this morning, hoping he would come in, but he didn’t.
He definitely watched, though.
You, at least, had your drink and your datapad. He had nothing to do but watch, and his mind kept replaying filthy memories from between your thighs.
“Like you aren’t thinking about it too,” he says, voice low and rumbling. “I bet you’re starting to soak through those little shorts.”
You don’t respond, swirling the drink idly in the cup and trying to focus on the botanical database.
“I can see your nipples through your shirt, cyar’ika,” he says. “Is it cold in there?”
“Shut up,” you groan. Every time you responded, you had to take a little sip as a cover. At this rate, you were going to end up actually getting drunk.
“So you’re not thinking about what I’m going to do to you when we get back to the Crest?”
“No, I’m thinking about getting off this damp ass pit of a planet.”
“Hmm. That’s too bad.” He wasn’t actually lingering on you through the scope. He was doing his job, keeping watch, and fastidiously ignoring his half-hard cock. “I was going to help myself to something sweet before we left.”
You cursed through gritted teeth. “Behave,” you hiss.
“That’s my line.”
You could hear the smirk through the crackle of the commlink, so you stretch a hand up to scratch the back of your head, middle finger extended.
He laughs, and even through the double distortion of his helmet and the line, it makes you smile.
“Hey, shit, here—” he cuts off, static buzzing.
Your smile wilts as fast as it had sprouted, but you hold your body in the relaxed slouch over the datapad, still idly twirling the cocktail in one hand and annotating something in meaningless shorthand.
The line clicks twice, and you move to stand. Another being comes around the corner of your booth, and you stumble right into them, knocking the violently green remains of your drink over their tan shawl.
“What the hell?” they begin to unwrap it from their neck.
“I’m so sorry, here; please, let me help,” you tell the tall Pantoran woman. You reach for your little napkin on the table and grab for her shawl with the other, tugging her to you with it. The hand that went for the napkin comes back with a blaster, pressed between her shoulder blades where the shawl hung down.
She freezes.
“C’mon, let’s go,” you murmur in her ear.
She turns her head side to side, looking with pleading eyes to see if any of the other patrons had noticed her predicament. If they do, they know better than to care.
“I can pay.” She still isn’t moving.
You nudge her with the nose of the blaster. “Outside.”
In the alley behind the cantina, Mando leans casually against a wall. He has one leg bent, foot against the wall, arms crossed. “Took you long enough,” he says when you shove the bounty toward him.
She stumbles and screams when she sees him.
You cover her mouth with your hand, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, he’s a big, scary Mandalorian. Shut up about it.”
Mando forces her arms behind her back and claps the binders on tight, magnetizing them to the side of a stack of crates.
“What’re you doing?” You try to ask, but he crowds you against the wall in seconds, gloved hands running down your sides.
“Need you,” he huffs.
“Are you kriffing kidding me?” the quarry yells.
Mando puts one hand on the holster facing her, and she falls silent.
“C’mon, baby, please.”
You go to push him off and roll your eyes, but at the last minute, decide to wrap your fingers into the cowl of his cape instead. “You need me now, huh? Got yourself worked up?”
He squeezes your waist in warning, but lets you move him so your positions were switched. Well. He cooperates when you tug on his cowl. You aren’t stupid enough to think you could actually move him when he was in full beskar. He was like a broken repulsortank.
His head falls back against the wall when you sink down to your knees in the filthy alley. The quarry tries very hard to look anywhere else. You palm him through his trousers, and he groans, clenching a gloved hand in your hair.
You nuzzle your face against him, pressing kisses through the fabric. He reaches down to pull his cock out, but you wrap a hand around his wrist and use it to pull yourself to your feet.
“Where’re you going, sweetheart?” He tries to pull you closer, and you duck out of his reach, laughing.
“We’re on a job, Mando, where do you think I’m going?” You call over your shoulder, already walking out of the alley and leaving him to grab the woman.
“Gonna pay for that,” he warn.
You spin around and grin. “No, I’m not. We’re not home, sweetheart.”
You turn and keep going, missing the way he stops for a moment, jerking the bounty in the process.
Home. It rings in his head, ricocheting off the helmet and his boner-addled brain.
“Should have just shot me. Then I wouldn’t have had to see that,” the bounty grumbles.
He snaps, “Shut up,” and gives her a harsh shove forward, following your leisurely path back to the Crest.
*title from "Sink Into Me" by Taking Back Sunday
#din djarin x reader#mando x reader#the mandalorian x reader#din djarin x f!reader#dom din djarin#kinktober 2023#make it hurt verse#the mandalorian smut#the mandalorian fic
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FOR EVERYTHING!
"Thank you, I really mean it."
summary. tim decided to throw you a birthday party! what could go wrong? (drabble / 1.1k wc / read end notes)
contents. slight tma spoilers for season 3, implied character death, romantic undertones, time-skip at the end, flerting with an a italicized e.
"C'mon!! Just a tiny bit of smile for me, please?"
"I am not going to do that, Tim."
The camera rolled and played, prettily set up just across you. Your roommate, Tim, sat beside you with a pleading smile and his hands clasped together.
It was your birthday today, and though you were planning to not reveal that fact to Tim, he found out when your older sibling came to your dorm for a quick visit. And after another shitty day with your college professor on your ass, Tim decided to pull out a little cupcake, some decorations and party hats, and he decided it was a birthday party.
He even baked the cupcake himself! Though, it doesn't look exactly .. edible but it looked like one enough.
"Are you really going to say no to a gorgeous face like this?" He fluttered his eyelashes, pouting and moved his face closer to you. A sudden warmth creeped up your face as you pushed his face away.
"Personal space, Personal—!"
"Aah, I'm sorry!"
You laughed, a giddy feeling emerged and bubbled in your chest. "Fine, see? I smiled, can we get this whole thing over now?" You flicked your hand towards the table. There were multiple paper plates scattered around, sitting and waiting on the table as if someone was gonna come to use them.
Tim shooked his hand and wagged his finger at you. "Nu-uh, don't think you can suddenly get away with a fake laugh?" He glared at you in a playful manner, a mischievous glint suddenly streaked through his dark eyes and he smiled widely. "I know something that can bring out actual laughter."
You furrowed your brows, glancing back and forth at his face and to his fingers, he wiggled them in preparation and as a warning for what was going to happen. You rose from your seat, stepping back as Tim got closer and closer.
As you were about to make a full-on sprint, Tim tackled you to the ground and attacked the sides of your stomach. He worked his fingers and tickled you, pulling a wheezing laugh right after another.
"T-Tim! I swear to— Haha, Fucking god, I'm going to—" You sucked in a breath, trying your hardest to pull your friend's hands off your sides. Unfortunately, Tim does more exercise than you so his grip tighten the more you resisted him.
"Kill me? I can't even lift my finger, mate!" Tim howled out a loud laughter. The plastic tie that was keeping his hair in place snapped and all of his brown curls fell his on his face, You immediately took the chance and squeezed his sides like an orange.
A shriek escaped his lips as Tim fumbled down to the floor, coughing up tears and strings of curse as you poke his side, squeezing the little baby fats on his stomach.
"Who's got the high ground now, Obi-wan!?" You crackled, barely dodging Tim's frailing arms. He even smacked your face but he was too busy trying to release himself out of your grip.
Tim huffed, resisting the urge to laugh at your petty revenge and your stupid little references, the every same ones he could only get and love the most. His face was flushed, a dizzying wave washed over as he lets an airy laugh out for once. "I give up, I give up! Let me— Aha! —go now please!"
"Apologize! Apologize, you tall bamboo!"
"I'm sorry, okay!? Let me go, please!"
Finally, you slipped your fingers off and allowed your body fall flat on the space next to Tim. You heaved, sucking the cool air as you tangled your fingers in his. All you felt was exhaustion and a jittery happiness that wouldn't let your heart steady for a rest.
You looked at him who seemed to be going through the same thing as you. He grinned, turning his head to face you. "Looks like little Mx. Smartass here has some bite to them, after all." He booped your nose.
You blew him a raspberry, returning the grin as you press your forehead against his. Tim moved your hand to his chest, you can feel his heartbeat pounding om his ribs as if his heart wanted to put itself right in your hands.
"Shut up, Tim." You merely said, moving your hand to his hair and ran your fingers through it. It was damp, slicked with sweat but you can smell that intoxicating smell of mint coming from his clothes and dark locks.
"But I did make you laugh, didn't I?" Tim looked at you with a goofy little glint in his eyes.
"You said you'd make me smile, not pin me down and torture me." You rolled your eyes playfully.
"Same thing." He shrugged as he moved closer to you, you can feel his laughter vibrating from his chest. You found yourself nearly dozing off to the rhythmic pattern of his heartbeat. "... Happy birthday though, (Name)."
Three words were only hanging off the tip of your tongue, ready to be blurted out and confessed, but the pits of your stomach resisted and you buried your face deep into his shoulder.
"Thanks, Tim. For everything."
"Anything for my best friend."
✦
The lights flickered ever-so-slightly as you feel the fog grow more and more heavy. You were sitting down, a camera left discarded and nearly tipping itself off the table. A cupcake sat in the middle of it all, a single candle sticking out of its strawberry pink frosting.
It's too perfect to be called yours. Too clean to be from him.
The cold clung your skin, biting and scratching at you. And though you couldn't breathe, you only felt a slight uncomfortable feeling. Did you care? no, but would you care? You aren't sure if such thing is still possible.
The fog had grown heavily, enveloping you in its arms like chains tying you down to your seat. The chair creaked as you leaned backwards, sucking in a breath that tastes more metallic and lonely than ever.
A high-pitched buzzing pierced through the still silence, it kept coming and coming closer to you. You feel a hand rest on your shoulder, it was light but firm. You can feel the person's callouses through your thick coat.
"What are you doing here?" You asked the stranger.
The stranger kept quiet, the buzzing only continued and got louder. Your chest felt heavier.
"I could ask the same, (Name). Why are you still here? He's gone, isn't he? That stoker boy." The stranger returned the question.
You don't respond, only furrowing your brows as your blank expression turned into a scrowl. You'd grip your coat but your fingers were too numb to even move.
"Tell me, (Name). What do you feel?"
"I feel..." You look down at your hands, moving it with the best as you could. Your toes had already stopped moving long ago, your legs has lost its purpose once you sat down on that chair.
The knots on your face, your brows and your frown, had simply faded and lost any sort of life in them as you watched the fog grasped the tiny candle in its hold and put out the flame, the very thing that had kept you grounded for so long, Your Tim.
"I feel absolutely nothing."
author's note. hurt-comfort? naur bestie, comfort-hurt >:)) but seriously, this is my first fic and i think the only character i really have a good grasp on is either tim or sasha.
but that's because both of them barely had much screentime (sasha mostly) and i can fit them into any mold i see them fit <33 might write a little headcanon thing for the entire scooby doo gang or whatever the tma fandom calls them. idk if this is will get a lot of notes like my wh fics, but at this point, i just like doing fanwork.
but yeah!!! any support is appreciated btw <33
#writing log!#the magnus archives x reader#tma x reader#tim stoker x reader#WE NEED MORE FICS OF THIS MAN OMFG#jon is so cool and martin is so hot but C'MON#TIM IS LITERALLY THE RESIDENT HOT GUY
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Rebuke [h.]{kd6}
Underwear/tentacles
Day 6!
A/N: This is unlike anything I've ever written, I'm also going to add a dead dove tag here, this involves sentient plantlife, and also could be seen as very dubcon or even venture into noncon. There is no active penetration but there is references to it, and there is sex pollen involved, please continue at your own risk. This is also heavily inspired by @beskarberry with her amazing din fic and @absurdthirst for getting me into sex pollen in the first place, and creating this amazingly challenging kinktober lineup!
C.W: Dubcon/noncon, live plants as bondage, sex pollen, firearms, reader fall unconscious and wakes up missing clothes, theres a (poorly written) undertone of horror here, mentions of succubus, some religious references, this man is half demon, keep that in mind.
Working with the B.P.R.D. had its moments, you’ve witnessed exorcisms, dealt with baba yaga on more than one occasion, and now you were dating your closest friend.
Red had sent you down into the historical gardens, in search of a medicinal plant that would help banish the succubus living in a White House bathtub. You were strumming your finger over a flower covered in thin purple dust when your phone starts meowing at you.
“Any luck? Myers is getting his dick sucked in there.” The deep timbre of his voice doesn’t portray a hint of worry, but on the inhale you take he lets out a soft chuckle, “Not literally, but we’re having no luck here.”
Your lips pull into a small laugh, “Nothing I’ve found, Abe is already sending me after something else, but just keep the sage burning for a little while longer.”
“That’s not gonna work, I’ll just have to come to help you.” He sighs into the phone through a smile. He was hard to shake, and since the two of you have confessed your feelings for each other, albeit when you both thought the world was going to end, it's been difficult to spend seconds apart.
“Alright big boy, see you down here.” You smile into the phone. Gods, if the professor was still around you’d both be in for it.
You wonder further into the gardens before coming to a roped-off mausoleum littered with overgrown ivy, and near-rotted caution tape. This has to be the right place, caution tape was typically a beacon in your line of work.
You light a flashlight, only to see a trail of steps leading into a dark abyss, great. You let out an exasperated breath, and let your tired feet carry you down until the light from the garden dissipates.
A few minutes of slow exploration leads you to a giant vine about the width of your arm, it has gatherings of a bright orange flower pearling off of smaller vines like a chain of bells. You bend over, lowering the flashlight to get a better look at the bulbs.
You lift a bundle of delicate petals closer to your face, the bead-shaped flowers have an iridescent quality to them, embracing the first light it has likely seen in ages. A rock a few steps down the hallway startles you as it skids across the hallway and stops with a sharp clack.
Your head on a swivel you bend down to reach for the flashlight in panic, you feel pressure just underneath your ass, and you take a deep breath relieved, “Red, you scared me.”
The silence, and then the tightening around your leg lulls you back into a panic, and you yell a plea a little louder, praying this is some type of sick joke, “Please? You’re scaring me.” A few agonizing beats of your heart, nothing except a loud rustling sound near your other foot.
“Fucking hell.” The two tendrils furl around your legs with astounding strength, as they begin pulling you closer to their source. You strain against the pull of the vines, digging your heels into the cement until you feel your bones grind together.
You scream and scream for the man who had said he was coming to help you, hoping by the small chance he's somewhere close. To your horror, another piece of the plant nudges into your back and the second you lurch away it tightens around your abdomen and pulls you against the stock of the plant with a wet crunch.
A sickeningly sweet yet bitter smell fills your lungs, like over-sweetened coffee. Immediately your skin feels hot, and sweat beads on your brow and you feel the thick tendrils of it snake further up your body, expertly securing you to itself. Offshoots of the plant, a hair thinner than your finger trails up your face and edges itself into your mouth. A rush of the bitter liquid has you blackening out the second it hits your tongue.
You awake to the sound of gunfire, and flashes of an all too familiar muzzle blind you as you attempt to rouse yourself completely. Your man raises the Good Samaritan after a slight pause and a bullet zips past your head and sinks into the stalk with a sizzle.
There's a coolness running down your back, but at first, you are scared it could be blood. Then you realize your shirt is missing, and your pants are being worked down your legs by hair-like fibers.
A piece of your brain screams and thrashes against the bonds, but your muscles are lax, and there's an ebbing pain in between your legs.
With another flash of the muzzle, a chunk of the plant above your head falls free, dripping a wet glob of gelatinous sludge onto your face. Instantly your body is on the precipice of erupting into flames.
You turn into a moaning mess and the commotion stops, two flashlights are shown onto the mangled mess that is your captor.
When his eyes scan over you, it takes everything in him not to smite this place to the ground. The skin of your torso is flushed and bare, the swells of your breast being smothered against your body by the tight grip of this hellish vegetation. Your pants are around your ankles, and he watched with bated breath as these thin fibers toy with the white cotton of your underwear, working the fabric down your hips seductively slow.
He feels like his brain is being rearranged to accommodate nothing but feral and impure thoughts. His fear is replaced with something carnal, and the beautiful sight of his woman strung open and covered in something so potent to make his cock jump out of anticipation? That’s a hard moment to pass on for even a man from hell.
#hellboy#hellboy x reader#ron pearlman#dark horse comics#david harbour#sex pollen#firearms#good samaritan#ive loved this man for too lonog#guillermo del toro
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Asking you about a character! And it's gonna be... the Outsider!! Yippee!!!
LA CREATURA!!!
First impression: Who's This Douchebag. why are your arms crossed and why do you feel the need to share facts about my life with me i already know all that. oh you're branding me? to give me supernatural powers???? okay. so that has. Undertones.
Impression now: oh, that's tough. i mean he's a very interesting character- i know some people who would have VERY insightful things to say about him- but i feel like i don't rotate him in my head nearly enough to achieve that level of knowledge. i mean i know some people who swirl this man around in their mind at mach speeds. my meagre opinions couldn't begin to compare. i like the potential chaos he can cause- just his existence by itself sometimes puts a spanner in the works. and the void is also a FASCINATING concept to me. i think he's tough to get right in general- there's a reason why i don't write outsider dialogue even when i think having him show up to taunt people would be cool and fun. mayhaps i should rotate him in my head more
Favorite moment: im gonna be real with you chief so many of my most memorable moments with the outsider is me wanting to strangle his smug ass. especially since my first playthroughs of dh were very influenced by like. me feeling like no matter what i do, i can't possibly do anything right. and him showing to be like "MY DEAR CORVO YOU SURE FUCKED UP AGAIN BIG TIME" didn't exactly help. but one thing off the top of my head- his little speech about lady boyle. i found it very intriguing because it was the first time (if i recall correctly) that we were shown him giving a more specific prediction of the future (beyond like, Ah Yes My Dear Corvo You Will Change The World Or Whatever). it made me really curious about the extent of his "clairvoyance".
Idea for a story: i'd love to hear some takes on the Other marked. like not the known marked i want you all to make shit up. give me insight into his psyche via the people he chooses to bind himself to. also, i'm always down for explorations of weird void shit and how any of that works. what does he even do all day? how does the way he "sees" the marked/the world manifest? what are whales? please let me know.
Unpopular opinion: now i know some outsider scholars debate his morality a lot. like, is he "evil"? does he even have anything resembling a moral compass at this point? i don't think this is an unpopular opinion at all, but to me he is just creature. sort of blue and orange morality i think. its not about good or evil or whatever he just does things. i find it quite difficult to imagine that he is trying to provoke a "net positive" change in the world. he is just doing stuff
Favorite relationship: hmmm corvosider? again i don't rotate them in my head nearly as much as i should, but it definitely has the uh. well certain Characteristics and trope potential that i could very much get into LMAO.... those who know me (and probably those who dont i think im very obvious) could easily pick out a few i imagine
Favorite headcanon: this isnt even a headcanon but dont you think it would be fun to see your own reflection in his eyes. theyre like a phone screen when you shut it off accidentally and have to see your own face. like would you not get distracted by that. hed be telling you some important shit about the future and your failures in life and youd be like fighting the urge to wave/pull a face just to see what it looks like
ask me about a character <3
#ask#don1t1red#thank you so much for asking!! <3#i love these ask games this has been so fun.#im learning im even more opinionated than i originally thought.#(and there are more character asks where this came from! stay tuned LMAOOO)
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— cause i'm a mastermind ˚⁎⁺ levi ackerman x f!reader
Levi has had enough of holding back from you. He’s played this Game of cat-and-mouse for far too long. It all started the moment he met you—when you spoke to him with snark and mischief—and tonight, oh tonight, he puts an end to it.
✧ Tags: Rated E - Alternate Universe - Modern AU, Swearing, Alcohol, Consensual Sex, Hotel Sex, Oral Sex, Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Mutual Pining, Levi’s POV, Sub!Levi undertones
✧ Word Count: 5.5k
✧ Thanks to @stellar-smth for BETA reading this.
Crossposted on AO3.
Levi has had enough of holding back from you.
He’s played this Game of cat-and-mouse for far too long. It started the moment he met you—when you spoke to him with snark and mischief—and tonight, oh tonight, he puts an end to it.
And it’s all your fault.
There you are, looking like a goddamn masterpiece, wearing that silk green dress that hugs every curve of your body, the rich fabric draping your breasts and ass just right.
And all the while, you stare at him from across the golden room, a lopsided smirk adorned on your face. You bring a flute of champagne to your lips, never once breaking eye contact with him.
Fuck.
“Levi, did you hear what I said?” Erwin asks, his familiar husky voice calling Levi back to reality. Levi scowls and turns towards his colleague. He finds Erwin’s intense blue eyes on him as the man takes a sip of his whiskey.
“I... no. Can you repeat?” Levi mutters as he downs his own drink—a Moscow mule, the least worst option out of the drinks available in this hotel lobby.
Erwin cocks an eyebrow, gazing at Levi curiously. “I wanted to hear your input about the plans to expand to the APAC region next year. It seems like an astute decision from the board, given the margins we saw this year.”
“Mm.” But Levi doesn’t want to discuss the strategic importance of the Asian-Pacific countries in the expansion of this company. In fact, that’s about the last thing he wants to do right now.
“Levi, what’s going on?” Erwin probes, tentatively poking the bear that is Levi’s frustrating lack of getting laid. Or perhaps, to be more precise, the fact that he hasn’t been able to have you.
“Erwin, I need a minute,” Levi interrupts.
“Evidently,” Erwin answers with a hum, taking a sip of his drink as he stares at Levi with quiet curiosity.
“I’ll be back,” Levi insists.
“And I’ll be here, once you get whatever is riling you up out of your system,” Erwin says, amusement laced in his tone.
Levi opens his mouth to answer, only to close it again. Whatever. Levi doesn’t have time for this nonsense.
Levi has bigger fish to fry.
And so, he pivots on his heels, walking across the room with determination in his stride. But he doesn’t simply approach you. He’s not a total idiot, after all—that would be a little too obvious, a little too desperate.
Instead, he heads to the bar, deciding to go for a pick-me-up first. A crowd of people are already gathered to order their drinks, and he takes his place in the queue, refusing to gaze in your direction again.
Just as he gets to the front of the line, drumming three fingers on the table impatiently, one of the barkeepers approaches him proactively.
But not to take Levi’s order.
“A Sex on the Beach, Sir. On the house,” the barkeeper tells him, handing him one of the most fluorescent orange drinks Levi has ever seen. It looks absolutely ridiculous.
“I didn’t order this shit,” Levi says dryly.
“It’s from the young lady over there. She sends her regards,” the barkeeper explains, sounding confused as he gestures to the other side of the bar. Levi turns his attention to where the barkeeper pointed, meeting your fluttering eyes as you twirl a strand of hair around that pretty finger of yours.
Oh, of course.
Cursing under his breath, Levi grabs the outlandish cocktail and makes his way across the crowd.
As Levi comes closer to you, your movements seem to mirror his approach, placing an elbow on the bar and leaning your cheek against your raised palm. By the time he stands in front of you, you are fully facing him—conveniently giving him the perfect angle to your cleavage.
You little minx.
Levi makes a point not to stare at your breasts, because he isn’t some pervert, thank you very much. Even though you’re doing a hell of a job to break his resolve, he doesn’t intend to make a complete fool of himself tonight.
“You. A word,” he snaps, trying to ignore the warmth pooling below his stomach, quiet excitement simmering in his veins.
“A word? Why, what could I possibly have done to warrant the privilege, Mr. Ackerman?” you ask as you take an innocent sip of champagne, smirking against the brim of the glass.
“Don’t play smart with me. You ordered this drink knowing full well I don’t drink this shit,” he mutters, gesturing to the cocktail in his hand.
“Oh, come now, I thought you would enjoy it. It matches your lack of a personality,” you answer with a devious grin. He narrows his eyes at you, but already, you continue, “I was just looking to repay the attention. I’ve noticed you staring at me all night.”
Levi stays silent, hating to be put on the spot. He’s thankful for the dimness of the room, which conceals the blush creeping up his neck and ears.
“You keep staring at me,” he answers with a low voice.
“I have, haven’t I? Mm, I just feel that the air tonight is, ah, how to say? Electric?” you murmur with twinkling eyes. “Almost like a musical crescendo, wouldn’t you say?”
“I couldn’t say,” Levi answers, taking a sip of the horrendous drink you ordered. His face sours instantly—it’s way too fruity.
His reaction to the abysmal cocktail makes you chuckle, your hand shooting up to hide your amusement.
“Now the real question,” you begin with a sultry tone, taking a furtive step towards him, “what are you going to do about it?”
Levi’s ears are ringing, his body suddenly too hot. He gulps, trying to ignore the twitching in his pants, the way his heart lurches in his chest. He keeps a steady facade of indifference, refusing to let you on any of his emotions.
“I see, still a man of few words,” you say as you finish your drink, tilting your head curiously.
“You’re such a pest,” he says. That statement is kind—there’s a whole range of vocabulary Levi could use to describe your constant nagging. But Levi is keeping it classy tonight. “I can’t believe I’ve put up with you this long.”
“I have a feeling there’s a lot of things you’re needing to get off your chest,” you point out, taking a step back. “Why don’t we go somewhere a little more… private to discuss this?”
And without waiting on his reply, you eclipse yourself away from the bar, your heels clicking across the marble floor. You exit the hotel lobby—smugly confident that Levi will follow.
The way you highlighted the word private isn’t lost on Levi and neither is it lost on his cock, which twitches in his pants.
Levi clears his throat, looking around once, and takes one last sip of this ridiculous drink. Then, he follows you.
Neither of you makes any sort of trivial chit-chat on the way to finding this heaven of privacy. In fact, Levi doesn’t even walk next to you, trailing behind you like an animal tracking its prey, admiring the angle the view provides. Your backless dress gives him an advantageous glimpse of your bare back—your hips moving sensually with every step you take down the dark corridor of this five-star hotel.
It’s like you both know, both understand that tonight is the night to end the Game. All these months of banter, of lingering gazes, of choke-holding tension… all this back and forth ends now.
Levi doesn't even realize where you’re taking him, too absorbed in your sumptuous derrière, when he finds himself entering a hotel room. Your bedroom for the night, no doubt. His own hotel room looks similar, though less luxurious—you’ve got at least double the amount of space.
When he looks up, he finds you staring at him curiously from the middle of the room. He closes the door behind him and stays put, looking at you like a scientist looks at an experiment: gauging your facial expressions, analyzing your body language and trying to understand what will be your next move.
“Like the view?” you ask casually, turning your head in a way that Levi can admire your side profile. “I convinced the manager to upgrade me to a Junior Suite. These rooms face east.”
You point at the large windows which provide a glimpse into the city at night—a constellation of lights draping the velvet sky.
But while Levi can certainly agree to liking the view, it isn’t the landscape that captivates him.
It’s you.
And fuck, are you ravishing.
“Now, where were we?” you say, turning back to him and crossing your arms over your chest. “Ah, yes, you were about to get something off your chest.”
His eyes flicker to your mischievous face, scrutinizing every facet of your features—admiring the flames in your eyes, the shape of your nose, the shadows dancing on your face, and finally… your lips.
Your lips which have long haunted him; your lips, which have been the subject of his daydreams at work; your lips, which now seem so tender, so soft, and so inviting.
Levi wonders if they taste like champagne.
“Tell me, have you dreamed about this moment before?” you murmur quietly with roving eyes, as if devouring the sight of him. “I have, you know. I’ve thought about the way this would go many times.”
Levi sucks in a breath. His palms are clammy, fingers twitching nervously, and it takes effort to not let it show.
Good grief, he’s nervous.
The truth is, Levi’s not good at this, whatever this is. Levi simply isn’t someone who goes around chasing skirts. Hell, he’s not someone who’s particularly sexual for that matter.
But perhaps you know this too, the way you look at him now with a knowing look, a strange softness behind your eyes that makes Levi’s heart race.
“I have,” Levi manages to admit, hating himself for sounding so desperate.
“Do any of the fantasies include this?” You take a step forward, just a breath away from him.
“Yes,” he confesses.
Now that you’re closer to him (but still not touching him, to Levi’s great frustration!), Levi can smell your alluring perfume—cherries and cognac clinging to his nostrils—making his brain dizzy with desire.
Your fragrance is like branding iron, imprinted in his brain. How many times did the ghost of your scent cause night upon night of frustrating hand jobs?
“What else?” you wonder, lifting a finger and grazing the collar of his suit, leaving behind a dizzying trail of touches.
Fuck, do you expect him to spell it out?
“This too. Your touch,” he murmurs.
“Oh my, my finger tickling you? How scandalous,” you add sarcastically.
Levi could bite your ear off if he wasn’t so turned on already.
His hand jerks up, grabbing your wrist in one movement and placing it firmly against his chest, right on his heart. “Stop teasing me already, woman.”
Don’t you see, goddammit? Don’t you see how much he wants this?
You chuckle. “Tut-tut, always so crude, Ackerman,” you murmur, lips twitching. “But well, I suppose that it’s made for some amusing banter at work, hasn’t it?”
“Yeah,” he answers with pressed lips, remembering all the times you would tease him, the way you played with your lips while he presented his presentation—always trying to distract him.
How he wished to kiss you then, to fuck you at that conference room table that overlooks the city.
��Well then, if you’re not going to tell me what it is I want to know… why don’t you show me?” you suggest, interlacing your fingers together.
Levi holds your gaze just a while longer, seeing the trepidation behind your stare, the way your eyelashes flutter. He realizes how much you want this too, despite still playing so coy around him.
Always the Game with you, even now.
But Levi obliges you all the same—he’s always had a soft spot for your antics, after all—and he finally caves in.
His lips crash down on yours.
And Levi realizes he was right: you do taste like champagne—fresh and exquisite.
The kiss starts off wet and soft—your tongue playfully teasing him as his hands settle on your waist. Slowly, one of your hands moves up to grip the back of his neck, fingers grazing his undercut delicately.
These feather-like touches leave him wanting more—so much more.
Levi takes a step forward as he grips your body tightly, pushing you back so that your back stands firm against the walls. Levi’s hands then start to explore, at first caressing your hips softly and then moving up, admiring the dip between your ribcage and your waist, the arc of your back. So delicate, so warm.
How long has he craved to feel you like this?
“Mm,” you breathe out, seemingly relishing in his touch. This verbal praise only seems to ignite Levi further and he can’t help but groan into your kiss.
He’s apparently not the only one who feels this buildup of desire because moments later, he feels one of his hands being stirred by your own, guiding it to your chest. There, you lay his palm flush, angling your body towards him. Levi cups one of your breasts, feeling your nipple harden under the fabric of your dress.
“Fuck,” he mutters darkly. “The things you do to me…”
A confession, said in the peak of the night. Usually, Levi wouldn’t be caught admitting moony shit like this, but this, right now, feels like the moment to say things that wouldn’t be said otherwise.
He breaks the kiss, watching you with a slanted stare. For once, you don’t seem to have a witty reply to say to him, all dark eyes and swollen lips, appearing to be in as much of a daze as he is.
Levi leans forward again, this time with steady and meticulous movements, basking in the cherry hints of your perfume. He can feel your hot breath on his cheeks, the way you’ve stopped moving, as if assessing him. Slowly, he begins to trail kisses down the exposed column of your throat, all the while kneading one of your breasts gently. His palm moves aside the fabric of your dress, the tips of his fingers grazing the delicate skin of your nipple.
Levi bathes in your little sighs, causing a delirious amount of desire to swell up. One of your legs bends and presses against his hip, reeling hard against him. Instinctively, his free hand reaches down, cupping the curve of your ass between his pleading fingers.
Goddamn does he love your ass.
Levi’s breath turns ragged, fingers digging in the flesh of your bucked hips, his lips nuzzling against the vein on your neck. You moan, and he moves his other hand from your breast to your face, pushing your hair back to expose more of you. There, he lays his desires bare, tasting your skin in an incoherent mixture of lewd noises and wet kisses.
“Fuck,” he growls against your skin, his cheeks tingling as you caress his face tenderly. “Fuck.”
“That’s the idea of this, silly,” you tell him in between ragged gasps.
Levi huffs in response, placing one of his knees in between your two legs in the hopes to silence your wits. But as you begin to grind against his limb with so much desire that makes his head spin, Levi thinks you must be some sort of mystical nymph.
He wonders how wet you are, under all those layers.
At the thought, Levi’s cock throbs, almost painfully so.
Finally, he’s had enough of this—because isn’t this all again just part of the Game, an anticipation of everything still? He bends down, lifting you with ease, and hitches your legs around his waist.
You make a sound that’s akin to surprise and tighten your hold around his back, heels digging into his spine as your fingers tug into his hair fiercely.
Levi takes a few steps across the room and lays you down on the king-sized bed like a precious thing, fully intending to take his time to marvel at you.
But you have another idea altogether. As Levi leans back to look at you, you grab his tie, keeping him firmly in place. You give him your most lecherous gaze, a sight that could make Levi get on his knees and beg.
“You still haven’t told me what it is you want to do with me,” you point out, all cheek-and-smile.
Levi’s jaw clenches.
“Isn’t it clear?” he says flatly, looking at you from under dark lashes, admiring the way your chest rises and falls—cheeks glowing from the dim lights and lips glistening from his kisses.
“Afraid not. You’re going to have to spell it out for me, sweetheart,” you tell him pointedly, a devious grin on your face.
“What is this, a fucking elevator pitch?” Levi mutters back.
“C’mon, Ackerman. You’re a big boy. Tell me what you want,” you tell him again, grabbing his hand and placing it on your cheek.
Fuck, when you say it like that…
“I… I want you,” he snaps, the painful humiliation of being put on the spot making him crumble. “I want to feel all of you.”
He sees your face, the way it settles into a quiet smile of understanding. “Well done.”
The praise makes him shudder. He closes his eyes for a moment and leans forward.
“May I?” he asks with a half-lidded stare.
“Oh, you certainly may.”
And then Levi looms over you, trailing kisses down your neck, over your collarbone and all the way to your chest. There, he delicately removes one sleeve of your dress, exposing one breast in the process.
And Levi shows you the meaning of worship.
With his hands on your hips, his mouth kisses your nipples with every fiber of his body, his tongue nibbling and teasing and flicking. Your skin tastes divine, the flavor reminding him of the salted caramel lattes you drink every morning in the cafeteria—rich and mouthwatering. He always made fun of you for your choice of beverages, but oh, right here, he realizes he may have a taste for it after all.
Your back arcs as his kisses turn more arduous and his teeth dig into the sensitive skin around your nipple, leaving it swollen and wanton. Instinctively, one of your legs bucks and moves between his own, finding his erection throbbing for you—needing you more than ever.
“Ah,” you breathe out in a series of moans. “You’re so hard for me already, aren’t you?”
“Fuck off,” he hums against the nipple in his mouth. He pulls back to fully glare at you, a thread of saliva dripping down his mouth. Disgusted at himself, Levi quickly rubs it away with the back of his hand, a scowl on his face.
“Ah, ah, that won’t do. Let a lady enjoy the sight of you,” you answer, raising a tender hand to cup Levi’s cheek, burying one thumb in his mouth. Levi can only groan in response, the perverted way your digit fucks his mouth and the sight of you—half-naked with a glistening tit—leaving him shattered for more.
Moments later, you take your wet hand out of his mouth and tilt your head, your body twisting on the mattress. “All good things come to those who wait.”
But isn’t that what you’ve both been doing all those months? Waiting? Playing the Game?
Levi decides he’s had enough of waiting for a lifetime—he’s shown the patience of a saint with the way he contained his desires.
Now, Levi wants to take it all.
And Levi will start his taking by making you come undone for him.
Levi moves over you like a goddamn predator, pulling away from you slowly and deliberately. As soon as his feet land on the carpet floor of the room, he kneels down, taking one of your bare calves in his hand and gently caressing your soft skin with his digits. All the while, he removes his shoes with his free hand, not even bothering to look where they land. Then, he undoes your heels, feeling very much like Prince Charming removing Cinderella’s shoes—or wait, didn’t that story end differently? Levi can’t think straight.
“You haven’t got a foot fetish, do you?” You laugh from above, your voice carrying over like glazed honey, causing goosebumps to trail all over his skin.
“Tch, no.” Levi clicks his tongue impatiently. “But it’s fucking filthy to wear your shoes in bed. Even for sex.”
“A clean freak even in bed. Shocking.”
Your tone of sarcasm isn’t lost on Levi.
“You always have to have a smart-ass answer to everything, don’t you?” Levi’s mouth begins to lather your calves with kisses. “Fucking annoying.”
Levi doesn’t add what he wants to say: that your answers have haunted him endlessly, that your voice plagues his dreams.
“That’s because I’m smart, Ackerman,” you answer. “And speaking of annoying, you really should tame that mouth of yours. I never resort to cursing to get my point across.”
“You will be cursing once I’m done with you,” he promises you.
Levi continues to bestow siphons of touches with his lips, sweeping your skin with conviction, all the while tugging at your underwear and slowly removing it. As he reaches the sensitive skin around the upper part of your knees, you inhale sharply, pressing your thighs together and squirming in his grasp.
Levi smirks against your skin and pins one of your legs down. Then, using his tongue and teeth, he starts to nuzzle the oh-so-delicate flesh of your right thigh. When he hears your little noises of approval, he moves to nibbling, carefully carving out little bruises that will no doubt linger tomorrow.
“Are you marking me, Ackerman?”
“Is that alright?”
“Oh, certainly.”
Levi just sucks harder in response, a wildness to him that feels almost out of character. But Levi doesn’t care, he loves the way you tremble under his touch.
Soon enough, your legs spread with shakiness and he continues to go up and up...
“Ackerman, you sure know how to tease a lady,” you mutter with a ragged breath.
“You’re still talking. Clearly, I haven’t done enough,” Levi rasps as he looks over your dripping cunt. He can feel the heat of his breath on your sex.
And then, Levi grabs your legs and Levi buries himself in you.
The reaction is immediate. Like a loose rope snapping, the electric synergy in the air seems to explode, deep yearning shooting up in Levi’s body as your legs buck and squeeze his face.
Levi is nothing but meticulous when it comes to showing you the meaning of worship, and he gets to work. His tongue darts out to explore your folds, all the while digging his nails into the flesh of your ass, his hands pulling you closer to him.
He’s dreamed of this so many times, but this, this right here… it feels even more intoxicating than his wildest imaginations—tasting you in all your glory.
As Levi’s tongue slides against your cunt, he starts to create little sucking motions with his mouth, learning where to find your deepest points of desires. When he hears your uneven breathing turn into erotic moans—mumbling incoherent words and finally cursing with that goddamn filthy mouth of yours—Levi knows he’s on the right path. He smirks and buries himself further into you.
Soon, your moans grow more arduous, and Levi pulls one of his hands back to his side, slowly trailing one finger against your inner thigh. Positioning his elbow into the soft mattress, he inches his fingers higher, finding heat at your center.
As one of his fingers enters you, the tremor of your voice reverberates against Levi’s lips. You begin to let out what Levi can only describe as deeply lewd noises—it’s about the most enchanting thing Levi has ever heard.
With his mouth still on your clit, Levi runs a finger into your core, curling it delicately towards your pelvis. There, he starts to pump back and forth, slick and smoldering movements.
“More?” he asks roughly.
“Fuck… yes.” Your voice has gone up an octave. It only makes Levi want you more, his cock twitching and groaning for attention.
But Levi isn’t done with you yet. Oh no, he wants you to squeeze and come completely undone for him—for him to finally have the pleasure to whip that smirk off your face.
And so, Levi slides a second finger in, his movements faster and rougher. The pad of his thumb teases while his tongue continues to flick your clit, responding to your hips bulking and asking for more.
You come undone moments later, your tights squeezing his face, your hands shooting up to fist his hair in a desperate attempt to hold him through your orgasm. Levi basks in your sweet and musky wetness, admiring the way your whole body convulses and curls in itself.
He lifts his eyes to look at you and he watches the way your face looks as you ride through the waves of your orgasm—the desire in your blown-out pupils, your lips biting down a moan, the trembling of your eyelashes.
And what a fucking sight it is to behold. Levi could frame it in a museum, just for himself.
When your orgasm seems to subside and you let out a content sigh, Levi stands, looming over you with a stormy stare, cleaning his fingers with his handkerchief. The look of you, sprawled out post-orgasm on the fluffy duvet—your silk dress still hugging your curves effortlessly—makes him groan with desire.
Levi’s patience is growing thin.
He wants to know what it feels like to be inside you.
You seem to notice the almost predatory movements of Levi as he towers darkly over you, his fingers digging into the pillow around your head, his knees trapping the rest of your body in a cage. Gone is the amused smirk from earlier, now there is only primal hunger.
Levi needs you to know the torment you’ve caused him.
“Fuck, you’re so…” Levi mutters raspily, desperation clinging to his words as he feels his erection go hard as wood, “...breathtaking.”
With a mischievous gleam in your eyes, you push yourself up with your elbow.
Like two powers clashing together, you seem to have an almost visceral ability to control him, sliding your legs up and falling to your knees in front of him. There, you kneel as equals, your half-lidded stare on him as you chuck away his tie, his jacket, his waistcoat and finally, his white shirt.
With his chest now laying bare in front of you, your eyes rove over his upper body, one finger trailing patterns over his porcelain skin. Levi swallows, hands coming to rest on your hips. As you tug at the belt on his pants, his heartbeat jolts.
“It’s unfair, really, all this fabric,” you murmur into his ear. “So much pretense. What do you say if we just… remove it all?”
Well, Levi certainly can’t argue with that logic. His nails dig into the fabric of your silk dress as you pull him into a languish kiss, smiling against his mouth as you move to fumble with the buckle of his belt. Not wanting to lose more time, Levi breaks the kiss with a groan and moves off the bed to peel off his pants.
In one swift movement, Levi is naked in front of you, his erection on full display for you to ogle, pre-cum on the tip of his dick. Your eyes are methodical, fluttering as you give him a positively devilish look.
“Fuck, woman, stop staring at me like that…” Levi mutters, his cheeks burning.
“Then be a good boy and come claim me already.”
Levi doesn’t need to be told twice. He seizes your body with tight hands, helping you out of your dress with frightful speed. Now that you’re fully naked, his eyes take in the sight of you, hypnotized by the way the light and shadows mingle together to accentuate your curves.
Fucking beautiful.
Unable to contain his pent-up desire, Levi straddles you and pushes you down, kissing you torridly. With your back pressed into the mattress and limbs intertwined, he feels your fingers drag along the curves of his ass, sending thrilling shivers down his spine.
Levi’s length presses against your hot cunt as he watches you tremble under his touch. Pupils dilated and lips cooing paltry words he can’t make out, Levi thinks he’s been bewitched by the image of you. It’s maddening, the chokehold you have over him.
One of your hands trails down to seize his dick with so much conviction that Levi’s body lurches with ecstasy, and you spread open for him—watching him with a devious grin.
Levi feels his last ounce of restraint turn asunder.
Levi enters you with a groan, his mouth panting on the dip of your shoulder. His vision goes white as pleasure shoots up, the most wonderful sensation Levi has ever felt. The tips of his ears feel scorched, the rest of his body flushed.
And holy fucking shit, is it wonderful.
He feels your fingers dig into the flesh of his hips, pushing him deeper into your core. The simultaneous moan shatters Levi’s very essence. He rolls his hips, bursts of pleasure everywhere, your body embracing him like they were made for one another,
You’re so fucking pretty under him and Levi feels like he’s on another planet.
With renowned confidence, Levi slides back and forth into you, thrusting deep into your core, pushing your soft walls and leaving them swollen and throbbing for more. Everything turns into a frenzy—an explosion of sensations.
How long have you both dreamed of this moment?
Your head dips further into the pillow, rolling back to display your arched neck. Beads of sweat trickle down your face, teeth biting down your moans, fingers tugging at the sheets. Levi can tell you’re close and he grabs your hips and thrusts into you with red-blooded vigor.
You cry out louder with your second orgasm. Your mouth parts as your whole body tenses and spasms, all the while mumbling his name in incoherent strings of words.
Levi, Levi, Levi.
It’s about the sweetest thing Levi has ever seen, and his own climax erupts moments later. Muscles clenched, Levi feels like he’s seeing stars.
He lands on top of you, face buried in the crane of your shoulder, heaving for air. For a moment, that’s all he can do—ragged sighs, dampness everywhere and intermingled limbs.
But once reality settles, once Levi realizes what just transpired, a bizarre feeling washes over him. He lies next to you, the two of you staring at the ceiling.
It’s over.
The Game is done.
After this, he can finally get you out of his head.
Right?
“Levi, you’re up.”
Levi stands up coolly, smoothing his suit with one hand. He gathers his belongings and walks towards the projector, where he plugs in his computer to display his slides. As the presentation loads, everyone in the meeting is deadbeat silent, knowing full well how much Levi hates to be distracted by mindless chit-chat.
Levi thus begins his presentation. His usual curt and meticulous speech ravels the crowd, his voice carrying information with deadbeat precision.
It takes about fifteen minutes for him to go through all his slides and by the time he’s done, Levi feels confident he was thorough enough.
“Any questions for Levi?” One of the managers asks after Levi finishes.
Levi turns towards the crowds, a flat expression on his face.
Voices muffle around the room, everyone agreeing that they do not have any questions. Satisfied, Levi goes to gather his belongings.
“I do!” One hand raises in the crowd. Levi freezes, turning towards that familiar, sultry voice. “Mr. Ackerman, can you clarify something for me?”
Levi snaps his attention to your face.
He finds you in your seat, a notepad in hand, twirling a loose strand of hair with your finger. Levi doesn’t know when you entered this meeting—you certainly weren’t there at the start—but as you explain your question (and a damn good question at that), Levi realizes something.
Perhaps it’s the tone in your voice, the way it carries that same allure Levi had heard so many times. Perhaps it’s those eyes again, half-veiled with a twinkle only he can see. Perhaps it's the way your shoulders roll as you speak, remembering the way your back arched for him.
But as he gazes at you, Levi realizes how fucked he is.
Because there you are—business as usual—acting as if nothing changed.
But everything has changed. Everything changed the moment the two of you made that decision in the hotel lobby.
And all Levi can think about is all the familiar ways he knows you, and the words still left unsaid.
“Mr Ackerman,” you call out again, a curious smile settling on your face.
Levi realizes he hasn’t answered your question, that he’s just been staring at you for the past minute in complete silence.
Shit.
You tilt your head and speak up again, “Did you hear my question?”
And Levi knows the Game isn’t over yet.
It’s only beginning.
— Masterlist
#levi fanfiction#levi x reader#levi ackerman#aot levi#levi x oc#levi x y/n#levi x you#attack on titan fanfiction#attack on titan#levi ackerman x reader#captain levi#ao3 fanfic#n.sfw#all you did was smile#flo's oneshots#flo is writing . . .
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my heart is ever true — an amephil fanfic
“Ugh,” he groused, “you’re such a dick.”
“Takes one to know one,” Isabelo chirped. He was remarkably chipper for being only clad in a thin, silky robe during the winter; somehow, Alfred thought, he made freezing look sexy. “And if you walk by any treacherous backstabbers on the street, I’m sure you’d pick them out easily too.”
Since the war ended, Alfred and Isabelo's relationship has become . . . complicated, to say the least. The morning after another night together, the two nations share a smoke.
TAGS: 20th Century, American Occupation Era, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Swearing, Smoking, References to Sex, From Almost Lovers to Enemies to Fuck Buddies, Morning After, Dialogue Heavy, Slap Slap Kiss, lots of banter, the vibe is mostly comedic with angsty undertones, Drama
Also available on: AO3, FF.net
—
It couldn't have been any earlier than four in the morning, but Alfred still found his partner having a melancholy smoke by the hotel room windows. Still drowsy from having just woken up, he reached messily for his glasses by the bedside drawer before turning on the lamp.
"Isa," he called out, because that's what he called Philippines now, in the decades after the war. "Isabelo, babe, what are you doing up?"
"You know, you're the only one who calls me that." He didn't even turn around to address him properly, the bastard; with just the lamp on, all Alfred could see were the bare outlines of his figure. But Alfred didn’t need to see his face to know that the other nation was rolling his eyes. "Isa, really. I have at least dozen other nicknames, but of course you’d pick the one that nobody uses."
“Have you considered that maybe I just like being special to you?” He burrowed back under the warmth of the comforter. "You're letting the winter draft go in. Come back to bed."
“Consider yourself my special pain in the ass,” was the glib response, which made Alfred chuckle. “Counter proposal: you get up and burn this deck with me instead.”
Alfred yawned, feigning disinterest. “You know I don’t smoke.”
Isabelo finally turned to look back at him. His eyes were bright and his smile was mischievous. Under the soft moonlight, he looked as luminous as ever. “Liar,” he sang. “I know all of your dirty little secrets, America. Shouldn’t you know this by now?”
When the war had finally ended — after three years, a dozen regrets, and hundreds of thousands of casualties — the both of them had been pushed into a meeting where they could formally reconcile. Together with their generals and leaders, they laid down the terms and agreements from which they could build their relationship in the decades to come. Philippines, who had finally been officially introduced to him as Isabelo, had done nothing but glare at him all throughout. Still, he had kept silent, and he passively accepted his new role: he was now United States territory, and at Alfred’s request, they would live together on American soil for the rest of the foreseeable future.
Alfred had seen it as a spectacularly good deal if he was being honest; when he was a colony, he had always hated it when Arthur left him behind. He would’ve given anything to be taught how to be a real nation when he was younger. But rather than appreciate what Alfred had done for him, Isabelo had instead decided to spend every waking moment talking back, being rude, and trying his very best in annoying Alfred until he was given independence.
The charming boy who had swept him off his feet in the pinks and oranges of the Manila sunset was nowhere to be seen. In the years that passed, Alfred was forced to realize that the real Philippines was someone else entirely.
Still made his heart race like crazy though. He’d been forced to realize that too.
“Alright, shut up, you’ve convinced me.” Alfred stood, not bothering with modesty anymore — like he said, there wasn’t really anything he could hide from the other nation at this point. Isabelo hummed appreciatively, staring him down as he walked the short distance from their bed to the window sill. He took a cigarette in his mouth and idly watched the shorter nation light it for him, admiring the way the light danced on his face. “I didn’t think you were a Camels man.”
“I’m not, but these were all your dear Frankie had in his office,” Isabelo said, wrinkling his nose. “He’s obsessed with them, honestly. He’d probably do an ad for them if he could.”
Alfred paused. “Are you telling me you stole a pack of cigarettes from my president?”
Isabelo smiled innocently. “No, I’m telling you I stole five packs of cigarettes from your president. Three of them are hidden in this bedroom, and I already smoked through the first one yesterday.”
Alfred promptly choked in the middle of taking a drag. The other nation didn’t even bother to pat his back or ask if he was okay or anything; Isabelo just laughed heartily through his short coughing fit. “Ugh,” he groused, “you’re such a dick.”
“Takes one to know one,” Isabelo chirped. He was remarkably chipper for being only clad in a thin, silky robe during the winter; somehow, Alfred thought, he made freezing look sexy. “And if you walk by any treacherous backstabbers on the street, I’m sure you’d pick them out easily too.”
“You’re a bundle of laughs,” said Alfred. “Remind me again why I like you so much?”
At this, Isabelo’s mouth turned up in an absolutely lecherous smirk. He angled his hips and lowered his lashes and moved just enough for his bangs to fall on his face and for his satin robe slip ever so slightly from his shoulders: the very picture of an inviting, submissive spouse. Immediately, Alfred’s throat went dry — and immediately, he hated himself for it.
Good colonizers didn’t have feelings for their colonies like this, didn’t they?
“Clearly,” Isabelo said lightly, “it’s because you think I’m a good fuck.”
“Clearly,” Alfred repeated, trying to preserve what little composure he had.
“Yeah, that’s exactly what I just said, do keep up, will you?” Isabelo said. Alfred couldn’t stop himself from letting out a chuckle and, at that, the other nation’s smile turned softer. He glanced down at the cigarette on his fingers, watching the smoke fade out into the cityscape. “I’m also absolutely hilarious. And a brilliant dancer. And I can make friends with just about anyone, you know. I’m a real catch.”
“You’re real modest too,” said Alfred.
Isabelo lightly shoved him. “Feeling smart tonight, aren’t we? You should savor it, I bet it’s a rare sensation for you.”
“Aw shucks,” Alfred grinned. “Thanks for the concern, but I have to say: when I’m around you, feeling smart is easy as pie.”
“Asshole.”
“Right back at ‘cha, babe.”
They simultaneously raised their middle finger at each other, then laughed.
Their relationship was . . . odd, to say the least. Alfred had initially wanted to be like a teacher to him, guiding him through the bureaucratic and diplomatic pains of democracy, but Isabelo had been so resistant to any sort of mentorship that Alfred had given up almost instantaneously. For their first few years together, they had been so cold: barely making conversation, barely feeling each other’s presence. He would be just as surprised to pass him by in the house corridors and to learn that the other nation had apparently been traveling to a different state the week prior. They gave each other space, and though it was far from what Alfred wanted, he was determined to give Isabelo the time to settle until he reached out on his own.
Then one day, Isabelo demanded that Alfred bring him to a theater. They watched the last showing of the latest Chaplin film, made out in the car, and woke up the next morning in the same bed. Isabelo had looked at him with his mussed-up hair and his upturned lips and softly said, so you want me like this after all, señorito?
Alfred didn’t recall what he had said in response, but he distinctly remembered thinking: uh oh.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Isabelo asked. He carelessly dropped his cigarette and lit himself another. “It’s not like you to be so quiet, you know.”
“The stock market,” Alfred said immediately. “It’s very serious nation business, I don’t think you’d understand.”
Isabelo hummed. “Oh yes, I’m sure only the great and bountiful United States of America is the only nation capable of understanding the complexities of the stock market. Tell me, what are the projected numbers for your economic recovery in the next decade again?”
“Fairly positive, thank you,” Alfred bit back. It was a lie and they both knew it: just the thought of it made him want to hurl all over the balcony. Instead, he took a long drag. “You keep talking below the belt shit like that. That really hurt.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Isabelo said, and now it was Alfred’s turn to shove him. Gently, though; he knew how fragile the other nation really was. The typhoon that hit his country last month had him coughing up blood for weeks. “Really, you should be glad that this is all I’m doing to you. I could’ve shown you what a real insurrection looks like. I could’ve hijacked your car and ransacked the White House. And then I could finally go home and start a rebellion, or something.”
Alfred sighed. “Well, I guess if I lose my car soon, I’ll know the first place to look. Not that it matters. You do know that I have people tracking your every move, right?”
“It’s been said,” Isabelo said coyly. He looked at him from under his lashes. “Just business as usual in the land of the free, I suppose.”
Alfred couldn’t respond to that. Instead, he blurted out, “Why are you always so mean to me?”
As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized there wasn’t much point in asking. He had realized too late what he had robbed from Isabelo, the day that America declared war on his nation. At the time, Alfred had seen him as the spoils of war he had rightfully earned from Antonio; Antonio himself had only seen him as the latest in a long list of rebellious colonies; while Arthur, Ludwig, and the rest of Europe had seen him as an idle source of potential income. Alfred had fought and laughed and died with his soldiers thinking that this was it, it was finally his time to stand equally with the other, powerful empires that surrounded him. Finally, he would have a colony of his own, and nothing else mattered but that.
It was years after the war ended when he was walking the streets of Cavite, by chance overhearing an old soldier tell his child: Hijo, if we had won, we could’ve been the first republic in Asia.
It had been harder to fault Isabelo for his coldness, after that.
Alfred slumped against the windowsill. He looked out at the hazy yellow streets of his waking capital and tried to remember what the other nation’s favorite breakfast was, hoping he could calm him down from an angry outburst that felt inevitable.
But rather than scream at him or roll his eyes or cry his heart out, Isabelo simply shrugged and said, “I just don’t like it when you lie all the time, that’s all.”
Alfred sputtered. “What the—I haven’t told a lie in my entire life!”
Isabelo laughed. “You literally lied to my face just now! You don’t even realize you’re doing it, don’t you? Is being a huge hypocrite baked that deeply into your psyche?”
“Is this still about when I betrayed you in 1899?” Alfred demanded, fuming. “I thought we were over that, I thought I’ve made it up to you—”
“First of all, you are never going to be able to make that up to me.” Isabelo fiercely interjected, jabbing the end of his cigarette onto Alfred’s bare chest. Alfred didn’t even register the pain. “But I can understand why you did it. It was horrible, and if I was in your position I would’ve done it differently, but I understand. We’re nations. We fight, and we hurt each other, and that’s just the nature of who we are. I understand that much from growing up with Antonio, and I bet you learned the same lessons with Arthur. Personal power overrules all, and all that white imperialist bullshit all those Europeans say. Trust me. I get it.”
Then he gazed back out the windows, his head hanging low. Isabelo breathed out another cloud of smoke. ”What I don’t get is why you lie about things that don’t even matter,” he sighed. “Small things like whether you smoke or not, your thoughts on traffic, your favorite pre-movie cartoon short. You know why I can call you out on your bluffs so often? It’s because I had to keep watching you for your tells, because for sure, you don’t tell me a damn thing that’s real.
“And then, you know what else I realized, watching you?” Isabelo stared at him, his bright eyes piercing. All Alfred could do was stare back in silence. “You lie even to yourself, Alfred. You act like admitting the truth will kill you, and it’s a hell of a sorry sight to see.”
“So you pity me, is what you’re trying to say,” Alfred said flatly. His ears were ringing, his head was reeling, and all he could think was wrong, wrong, wrong. “Fuck off.”
Isabelo just rolled his eyes, as if Alfred wasn’t one sarcastic quip away from punching him in the face. “Fuck me yourself, coward,” he said. “Oh wait.”
Alfred snarled. In seconds, he hoisted the smaller nation off his feet and pushed him on the bed. He gripped Isabelo’s hands over his head and spread his thighs with his knees. This was a familiar position; he’d fucked the other boy like this just last night, slow and sensual, while covering his body with bites and kisses. Alfred knew what lust was like but it hadn’t been until Isabelo that he felt it like that — waves upon waves of overwhelming heat, drowning in desire until he could barely breathe. He remembered how Isabelo had moaned his name last night. He remembered how he dug his nails deep enough to leave scratches on his back. He remembered how he clenched his legs around his waist, screaming for more. He remembered how he grinned up at him, purple eyes filled with brightness and exhilaration and something that looked almost like love, and Alfred had yearned for it so badly that he came right there.
Now, Isabelo was looking up at him again, his robe just rumpled up enough to fully display the bruises Alfred had marked on his neck. With his lips upturned and his eyes half-lidded, he looked like he had all the world’s riches laid down at his behest.
“I’m still the one in power here,” Alfred said. “Admit it.”
“Lie to yourself all you want,” Isabelo teased. “Just know that you can’t fool me.”
Isabelo had smiled just like that before shooting him and leaving him for dead. But he had also smiled like that before loudly announcing that he’d eaten the last of Alfred’s favorite snack before he could get to them, so he was sure that smug expression was always specifically for when he felt he’d one-upped Alfred in some way.
Alfred decided the pettiest thing to do was collapse on top of the smaller nation. Over Isabelo’s muffled shouts and laughter, Alfred said, “I’d like to see you try to get out of this.”
Isabelo managed to gasp for air a moment later. “You’re such a dick,” he whined. “I didn’t even get to finish my smoke before you attacked me, you brute.”
“Takes one to know one,” Alfred said, and Isabelo lightly smacked his back — the only part of his body he could reach, with the way he was trapped under like that. He decided the smaller nation had suffocated enough and he rolled over to let him catch a breath. The two of them laid down on the bed, side by side, reveling in each other’s presence. “And I don’t lie for no reason, you know. I’m protecting myself. I’ve got a lot to lose if I make mistakes.”
“I know that,” Isabelo said, still a bit breathless. “I’m just saying, I like you more when you’re honest, and you rarely are.”
“I can be honest right now,” Alfred said. The sun was starting to rise, and out of the corner of his eyes, he could see that the light streaming through the window was enough to make Isabelo’s skin glow golden. He swallowed, his throat dry, and admitted, “You’re very pretty.”
The other nation huffed. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
Alfred scowled at the ceiling. “You’re also a narcissistic prick.”
Isabelo giggled, bright and cheery. “Oh, that’s a new one. Jot that down, else you’ll forget.”
“I won’t forget it, I think that at least twice a day,” Alfred said, and he felt warm when Isabelo erupted in uproarious laughter. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed how much you’ve been spending on clothes lately. I’m watching you too, you know. This whole I’m paying you attention so I can learn more about you thing you’re doing to me goes both ways. Suck on that.”
“Yeah, I’ve been sucking on something alright,” Isabelo said, then he laughed again when Alfred groaned. Isabelo reached out to cup Alfred’s face in his hands, his eyes alight with mischief. “Look, when we walk out that door, we’re playing benevolent master and docile colony again, and you know I can’t make jokes like this around your senators — they’ll have a hernia on the spot. Let me have my fun for now, will you?”
“Only because I like you so much,” Alfred muttered. He turned, shifting his position so he could face the other nation fully. His lips gently brushed against Isabelo’s palm. “You’re such a pain.”
“You’re such a pain too,” Isabelo mockingly cooed. “See? We’re even.”
“Now that’s a terrifying thought,” Alfred whispered, moving closer.
Isabelo smirked. “It’s only terrifying from your point of view. One day, I’ll make you see. I’m just as much of a nation as you are.”
Their faces were so close; Alfred couldn’t even concentrate on what he was saying. His heart was beating so loud that he felt like it could burst out of his chest at any moment. He barely sensed that Isabelo was kissing him — softly, sweetly, like he thought Alfred was fragile enough to break. It had been so long since someone had touched him this gently. He didn’t know what emotion he was feeling but whatever it was, it was overwhelming him. Alfred stayed as still as he could. He didn’t want this moment to end.
It had slipped out of him before he even realized. “Isa, I love you.”
Isabelo’s eyes widened, then his face broke out in a small, bittersweet smile. “Sure you do.”
Outside their hotel room, the day had finally broken. Their two cigarettes lay forgotten on the ground, their flames having long since sputtered out.
—
NOTES: I picked the name Isabelo for Piri because I wanted him to have an old-timey name like Alfred. Here, antiquated Spanish first names like that usually mean that you are either old or come from old money; and Piri, as you may know, is very old. Piri has over a dozen nicknames because that's really just what being Filipino is like. The name Isabelo usually defaults to the nickname Beloy, which is very far from the Isa that Alfred uses. Fun fact: Isa (pronounced differently but spelled the same) also means "one" in many Filipino languages.
This isn't explicitly stated, but this takes place in Washington DC during the early 1930s. Alfred is barely recovering from the Great Depression while Isabelo is a few years yet from establishing the Philippine Commonwealth. FDR is the president and he loves Camels cigarettes. He honestly did do an ad for them while still in office.
Title comes from the English-translated lyrics of the classic Filipino love song, Dahil Sa Iyo or Because of You. Specifically, it comes from this English/Tagalog duet version of the song from the 60s sung by Santos and Cora Beloy.
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In the Heat of the Moment
Disclaimer: One Piece (and its characters) belongs to Eiichiro Oda-sensei.
Reminder: I have no beta-reader. Any grammatical and spelling errors are solely mine.
Warning: OOC possible. One shot.
Rating: T
Note: For Day 3—Nami’s Day—of the ZoNa Days event (at @zonamievents). I’m already late but still posting it. It’s unfair if it’s only Zoro who gets an entry.
In the Heat of the Moment is by Noel Gallagher’s High Flying Birds. I still have The Umbrella playlist to thank for being such a good company.
Summary: "You're getting sappy witch. Sounds like you care about me."
The rain hadn’t let up from the moment it began to pour down.
Which should not have been a problem in the first place… the Straw Hats have their very own weather expert-slash-navigator extraordinaire after all.
If only said weather expert-slash-navigator extraordinaire didn't get distracted, arguing with a certain green-haired swordsman.
"This is your fault!" Nami complained, rubbing her arms with her hands in a poor attempt to keep the emerging chill away.
Somehow satisfied, she folded her arms across her chest as she sulkily glared at the rain which has now completely turned into a steady downpour.
Luckily she was able to pull the man with her towards an alcove in the town's wall before they got drenched. It was an uncomfortable fit, as they were almost pressed to each other, but it'll do.
Zoro was snarling beside her. "This rain is MY fault?" He huffed. "Right! It's my fault coz I absolutely can make it rain on a whim!"
Nami turned sharply towards him, glaring daggers. "If you hadn't gotten lost—"
"I DON'T GET LOST!"
"—like the idiot that you are," she continued ignoring Zoro's outburst, deliberately raising her tone and effectively drowning his retort with her shrill voice. "Then we wouldn't be stuck in here ZORO!" Her voice jumped another octave when she said his name. "In. HERE!" She repeated the words, making sure to emphasize them and hoping to drill it straight into his thick, dumb skull.
"Tch! Then you shouldn't have followed me!" The former bounty hunter groused.
"Besides, aren't you supposed to be good at predicting the weather?" He commented sardonically. "Shouldn't you have known that it’s going to rain today?"
Nami gaped at him disbelievingly. And heat rose to her cheeks.
She gave his shin a good kick for that.
"Ite!"
"I know that!" Nami practically shrieked at him. "That's why I followed you here to tell you about it! Is this the thanks I get from making sure you don't get your dumb self lost in this island while a storm is brewing?!"
"Again woman, I DON'T GET LOST!" Not the one to be deterred, Zoro raised his own voice to match hers. "And damn it! Stop kicking me!"
"Bullshit!" The ever-feisty navigator exclaimed. "That a load of crap and you know it!"
She angrily poked his chest with her finger. "If I leave you to your own devices... We. Would. Never. Find. You!" She punctuated each word with a prod on his torso. As if that would actually make the idea sink unto him. "I don't want Luffy and Chopper whining about how you are lost and that we should find you!
Zoro grabbed her hand to stop her from poking a hole in him. Grasping it firmly he all but shouted back at her. "I will be fine! I will find my way back to the Sunny!"
“Hah! Fat chance of that happening!”
They were almost nose to nose by this time; all the while scowling at each other, both waiting for the other to back down.
Now only the sound of the rain falling heavily down the soaked earth can be heard as they continued their stare off. Along with the sharp intake of breaths coming from the two of them because honestly, their shouting matches can be quite arduous.
As the glowering continued; Zoro thought he caught a glint, a spark from behind Nami's eyes before those warm brown orbs widened.
In what could only be a realization that their current position is leaning towards… precarious.
It was also not helping that his own eye had darted all over her face, taking in the flush on her cheeks. Despite it coming from indignation, she still looks...
... pretty.
He almost choked at his thoughts. When did he turn into that shit cook?
Zoro inhaled sharply and realized what a wrong move that was. He caught a whiff of Nami’s signature scent. Sweet with an undertone of zestiness that reminds him of her mikan fruits at their peak of ripeness—that certain moment that makes you want to steal one so you can taste them...
The color on her face deepened and Zoro wasn't sure if it was because she was getting angrier and angrier by the minute.
Or...
If it was because she saw that his stare lingered for more than a second or two at her lips.
"Screw this!" He grunted, instantly averting his gaze. He felt his face heating up and to get out of their rather 'awkward' situation, he immediately resorted to his favorite defense mechanism whenever he faces off against this orange-haired devil incarnate.
Losing his temper on her.
"You are not my keeper woman!" He snapped at her before immediately stepping out of their sanctuary and into the rain.
That made Nami snap to attention. "Hey!"
Without another word Zoro turn around and started walking away from her despite the torrential rain.
WALKING. AWAY. FROM. HER.
While it’s raining cats and dogs.
"Zorooo!!!" He heard Nami screeched his name, horrified that he would actually leave her alone.
There was no way he was getting back in there with her. Not when it occurred to him that he was only a second away from grabbing her...
...and kissing her.
He walked in faster strides when she called him again. He had to get away from her. He needed to get away from her.
Far away.
Because honestly she was driving him crazy lately with all these thoughts of wanting to kiss her surfacing every moment whenever he was with her.
And who knows what the repercussions are? This is Nami they're talking about. She would probably sic ero-cook and even Luffy if he dared to even try. Or rat him out to either Robin or Usopp or both.
Or charge him more than what his current bounty is.
He winced at that.
For now he needed to get away and calm himself so he can reflect...
There was no warning as something collided at his back, almost making him stumble down the wet ground.
Did someone just attack him?
But the presence wasn't threatening, even if its arms were wrapped around his neck in a chokehold, throttling him.
"YOU DID NOT JUST LEAVE ME ALONE THERE RORONOA ZORO!" Nami deliberately yelled at his ear, probably making his ear drum shatter and rendering him forever deaf.
In a split second the Supernova realized that Nami… had jumped him.
"Hey! Get off witch!"
"No!"
"Get off!"
"I said no!"
"Get off now or I'll--"
Her hold around his neck tightened. "Or you'll what?" Nami hissed right in his ear in a tone so dangerously low that an actual chill ran down Zoro's spine.
He gave her arm a light slap, a silent gesture to loosen her hold because she was cutting off his air. When she didn't relent, he effortlessly bounced her up his back.
With a squeak of surprise, her arms slackened and he was able to finally draw in some air.
Nami’s hands grabbed at his shirt in an attempt to prevent herself from slipping from his back. Zoro tried to shake her off him. But the cat burglar swiftly clung onto him by locking her legs around his waist.
His remaining eye widened at that.
"Nami!"
"Stop trying to shake me off Zoro!" Nami protested as she held on to him tightly. Her knee knocked against his katanas and he scowled.
"Then stop strangling me damn it!"
"You deserve it you ass! Leaving me alone like that! Wait until the others hear about this you brute!"
Zoro muttered an expletive under his breath. Nami is a real witch!
He can feel her sliding down his back again. She was having a hard time clinging onto him because his shirt and her arms and legs were all wet from the rain water.
"I'm charging you for all these Zoro!" She muttered against his ear, her breath hot against his skin… a stark contrast from the cold rain water falling down on them.
"The hell you are!" He managed to retort. She was speaking from his blind side and even as he tilted his head, he cannot see her face or her expression.
The next thing he knew… her fist had descended on his head.
“The hell! Why did you hit me?!”
“Because you are a moron.”
“That’s it get off me!”
“No!!”
They continued struggling against each other, right in the middle of the rain that was soaking them to the bone.
And Zoro realized then and there that Nami was quite nimble. She had quickly managed to change her position from his back to his side with her legs still locked around him.
He really didn't know what to do with that information, except it's going to be really handy once he gets the chance to...
Fuck!
She had hit him on the head with her fist again. That’s twice already.
Why are her punches hurting him so much? Was it clad in haki??
"Argh! Nami stop it!" He tilted his head towards her so he can growl and glare at her all at the same time.
She just gave him a haughty serves-you-right grin.
In retaliation he bounced her against him again.
Which was a wrong move. Because all it did was rubbed her breasts against him and press her closer to him.
It was a good thing the rain was drowning them.
Though it did made her yelp in surprise. He’s good with that.
"Argh! Stay still Zoro! I swear if you drop me down I'm going to—"
“To what?” His steely eye met hers. This time it was his turn to challenge her.
Nami’s hold around his neck tightened, probably because her grip on him was slipping again because she was just as wet as he is and also because she still wants to choke the shit out of him for leaving her alone earlier.
She lifted her chin slightly so she could gaze back at him even as the rain water continued trickling down her face.
Was it just him or Nami’s quite comfortable where she is right now?
He knew she was trying to give him the evil eye. But it was hard to do that when the droplets of rain keep clinging to her lashes and she had to blink them away in a manner that affects him greatly.
And there was it… that familiar glint, that spark he saw when they were back in the alcove taking shelter from this rain.
“Look Zoro,” she finally sighed. “I just wanted to make sure you will come back to the Sunny in one piece and not get stranded in this weather."
Zoro blinked. He was not expecting that.
Then his face broke into a smirk. "You're getting sappy witch. Sounds like you care about me."
“Y-y-ou!” She stammered.
He grinned at her as she sputtered, her face turn absolutely and adorably red.
To think, he actually high-tailed it out of there earlier with his tail between his legs all because he can't face the realization that he wanted this woman.
But there was no denying it now. Amidst this rain it was very clear. That was all he needed.
He finally decided to take a chance instead of running away from it like a coward.
He tucked a strand of her wet hair behind her ear. "You can punch me or charge me later Nami," was all he said before he pressed his lips on hers.
Her body jerked in surprised. His arm instantly wrapped around her waist to secure her as one of her hands grasp at his shirt tightly.
He swore he heard and felt her murmur 'oh fuck' against his lips before she deepened their kiss.
They pulled apart slightly for air. Zoro hauled her up a little and Nami was about to lean down to for another kiss…
“A-choo!”
They looked at each other in surprise. Nami’s hand automatically covered her mouth as her face turned red again… this time for a very different reason.
“Ehem!”
They both turn their heads towards the sound and saw an elderly man standing a few feet away from them under an umbrella.
He was shaking his head as he looked at them.
“You youngsters should just get a room you know. You risk getting sick doing things out here in the open that should be done privately.”
#zoro x nami#ZoNa#zonami#zonalove#zona fanfiction#zoro nami fanfiction#ZoNa Days#zonamievents#zonamieventstumblr#roronoa zoro#nami
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First time in College: Suna x reader
College AU with the Haikyuu boys: Suna Rintarou x fem reader 🤤
Let me know if you want part 2 :)
He is literally so fine I--
Art creds go to agatha123naruto
God, you should never have agreed to do this. Your laptop was calling you, Attack on Titan already pulled up and ready to watch...and yet here you were, shifting uncomfortably in a tight crop top and booty shorts your roommate had provided you with. You crossed your arms over your stomach, trying to hide yourself, but you only succeeded in pushing your tits up.
“Hey, relax, it’s just a party.” Kiyoko smiled softly from her side of the room, applying some chapstick and holding a pair of sneakers.
“Ugh,” you rolled your eyes. Yes, it was just a party...but it was also the first college party you were going to be attending. And a frat party at that. Ugh.
The first few months of college had been perfectly well off without them, and you weren’t exactly sure why Kiyoko had been able to convince you to come along this time. Maybe you had felt a little like you were missing out when your roommate would come back giggling and tipsy late into the night every weekend, and maybe you wanted to put a bit more effort into socializing. You had friends, but not a huge group--which was fine. But also, college was a time to try new things...even if that meant frat parties.
“Don’t worry, you’ll probably know some people. And if not, you can just stick with me.” Kiyoko finished putting on her shoes, heading towards the door. “We’ll get drinks as soon as possible.”
You sighed, resigning yourself as you followed her out the door.
The party was just as bad as you expected. It was packed in the house, the lights dimmed, flashing, and confusing as people pushed from all sides. You almost spilled your third drink as you searched for Kiyoko, pretty much impossible in the darkness. You had lost her a little while ago when she had started talking to a guy named Tanaka, and now she seemed to be missing.
“OI!” You looked up to see a clearly wasted, shirtless guy standing on the table, a bottle of beer in his hand. He had blonde hair with a dark undercut, and you were pretty sure you recognized him as one of the frat guys...maybe Atsumu? You didn’t know him well enough to be sure. “We’re putting on a movie, if you fuckheads want to join,” Asumu yelled, practically falling off the table.
Maybe Kiyoko was with them watching a movie.
The crowd swallowed you up again as you headed towards where Atsumu had disappeared, but you managed to push your way into the living room. There were four couches stuffed into the wide space, but every seat was taken, including spots on the floor.
You scanned the room for Kiyoko’s hair, but yet again, no such luck. The projector was set up to play a horror movie, and your stomach clenched unpleasantly as you realized what it was. You really, really hated horror movies--did they seriously have to pick this to watch?
You bit your lip, but the lights were dimming and you had to stop standing awkwardly off to the side. You spotted the arm of one of the couches that was free, but that same couch was also filled with frat guys with girls in their laps. Would I be weird for taking a spot next to them? Would they be ok with that?
Shit, calm down. This isn’t high school, and I’m a bad bitch. Also, I’m sexy as fuck. I got this.
Right. You straightened your shoulders and marched across the room, dodging random girls sprawled across the floor mixed with bongs and beer bottles. You barely even glanced at the occupants of the couch as you settled precariously on the arm, as far from them as possible as the movie began to play.
Almost immediately, your heart was racing and fingers digging into the cushions, and you wanted to run from the room. Why, why, why had you done this to yourself? You could have just turned and left the living room to begin with. Fuck trying new things.
You were considering how you’d make a subtle escape when a drunken kid with bright orange hair slammed into your shoulder as he tried to get past, causing you to lose your balance on the arm of the couch and fall directly into the lap of one of the guys to your right.
For a moment, you were too stunned to move, and you could only stare up at the equally surprised face of one of the frat boys. He had dark brown hair and yellow eyes, the whites tinted red; presumably from the joint in his hand. The smell of weed rolled off him, and you were pretty sure that it wasn’t his first one.
“Oh-Oh my god I’m so sorry,” you gasped, rolling awkwardly off him onto the floor. “I didn’t mean to--I mean--um--”
“Look what you’ve done Suna.” You glanced over to see the same shirtless guy from before, the one you assumed was Atsumu. “You scare off all the girls.”
The lap guy, Suna, just shrugged and took another hit.
“No, that’s not...” you tried, your halfway drunken brain desperately trying to calm down. “I fell on him.”
Atsumu grinned at you. “It’s ok, you don’t have to bother with him. He’s a piece of shit anyway.”
“I didn’t say--”
“What, so you want to sit on his lap?”
“What????” How was this conversation even happening? You wanted to punch Atsumu in the face, and you also wanted to sprint from the building and never show your face to the light of day again.
Unfortunately, now Suna was looking at you, as were the other frat boys sitting on the couch and the girls on their laps. “I mean,” you cleared your throat. “I- I guess.”
Idiot. IDIOT.
“Ah nice. You see Suna, that’s how you get girls--”
“Fuck off, Atsumu. Stop pressuring her.” Suna glared at him, and you let out a breath...until his yellow eyes turned to you, and your lungs hitched yet again. “You can if you want, but we’re holding up the movie.”
He was right; someone had paused the movie since Atsumu was standing right in front of the projector, which meant everyone was waiting on you.
“Are you ok with that?” You asked as you stood up, trying to sound confident and bored.
Suna’s eyes lazily trailed down and up, and he shrugged. “Whatever.”
Ouch. “Uh, right.”
He leaned back on the couch, his legs sprawled wide to give you room between them, and your heart began to pound. Jesus Christ.
You awkwardly sat down, trying to give him space in the very limited area, but his thighs were still pressed tight up against your ass.
The movie started again, and almost immediately every muscle in your body tensed up. At the first jump scare, you flinched so hard that you elbowed Suna’s knee, making him grunt in pain.
“S-sorry,” you whispered, hands shaking a little.
He shifted, leaning forward so you could feel the heat from his chest inches away. “Hey, are you good?”
“Um, yeah. I just really hate horror mov--” The serial killer stepped out from behind the door and you gasped, turning your face away.
Suddenly, you felt Suna’s hands pressing against your ears, blocking out the creepy music and the sound of people getting murdered in front of you. You looked up at him in surprise, and he shrugged, leaning even closer.
“Horror movies are worse with sound,” he said in your ear so you could hear him.
“Thanks,” you murmured, and he smirked.
“You can relax. You’re so tense, it’s freaking me out.”
You let out a breath, forcing your muscles to unclench. It was more comfortable, but it also meant that you were now flat against Suna’s chest, his hands still on your ears.
You tried watching like that for a while, and it was better, but in the end you decided that sound or not--horror movies weren’t your thing. You ended up hiding your face in Suna’s shoulder, until you realized what you were doing and quickly jerked back.
“Oh sorry, I didn’t mean to get in your personal space--”
“It’s fine. Be quiet.” He wrapped his arms around your waist, tucking you against his chest so you could easily bury your face in his shoulder. He smelled nice, mostly of pot, but with undertones of mint and almond or something.
As the movie continued, he turned his head to press his lips against your ear. “Want me to explain what’s going on?”
“Oh...okay.”
“So basically...ugh what is even happening.” You smiled a little at his annoyance. “So this idiot girl just went into the house when clearly she shouldn’t have, aaaand there’s the murderer. Damn she’s dumb. Honestly he’s kind of dumb too, why is he running with a knife? That’s a safety hazard.”
You snorted, feeling a large part of your fear drain out of you at his stupid narration.
“This is literal shit,” he muttered. “How does this scare you?”
You huffed, annoyed at his condescending tone. “I don’t know, just the jump scares, and the creepy lead up, and the music...I just hate it.”
“Do you want to leave? You don’t have to watch, you know”
“I…” I clenched your fists, suddenly determined. “No. I can make it through.”
“Why…? You’re literally not even watching.”
“Just shut up. I’m facing my fears.”
He laughed under his breath, and you felt it in his chest. “How admirable.”
He patted your head, taking another hit of the joint, which was practically gone. “Want some of this?” He gestured to it.
“Oh, sure. That’s fine?”
“I wouldn’t have offered it if it wasn’t.”
“Right...” You took the joint from him and took a deep hit, and then another, just needing to relax. It didn’t stop you from almost jumping out of your skin when the murderer suddenly pushed someone down the stairs.
Suna smirked at your terror, and you glared at him. “This isn’t funny!”
“Kind of is.”
It took another twenty minutes, but then finally the film was over, the lights were turned back on, and you were facing Suna again.
“Thanks for doing that,” you said, a blush creeping up your cheeks as you met his pretty eyes.
He shrugged. “Sure.”
“Well, uh. I should probably go. Maybe I’ll see you around.”
“Wait, hold up--”
You didn’t wait for his response as you rolled off his lap, awkwardly waving, before practically running from the room.
You found Kiyoko sitting on the couch with your friends Suga and Daichi, and you must have looked pretty panicked because she didn’t protest when you dragged her from the frat house.
“So...how was it for you?” She asked imploringly as we made our way back to our dorm.
“Um….” You weren’t sure how to answer.
Part 2
#suna#suna x reader#ive never met this guy but he could high key get it#suna rintaro x y/n#suna rintarō#haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#haikyuu suna#fandom#fanfic#fanfiction#fluff#anime
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Works in Progress List
!IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER!
Worth It for the Feeling [Lee Felix]
“Felix had it all planned out: shoot a video, or maybe record his moans, edit the content, and put it on his OnlyFans page. It was his routine by now, having done this on a weekly basis for a few months now. You, on the other hand, discovered his page on a random Sunday night, and discovered his identity on pure accident. Though he was not exactly as close with you as his flat mate Hyunjin, and though he certainly found you attractive, he had no idea how to propose his offer to you on shooting a video together.”
Completion: 2%
Lenght: Long
Series: OnlyFans AU
Lights Out [Hwang Hyunjin]
“Hwang Hyunjin was an enigma. A man of mystery, even. He was a strange man who seemingly only lived to work, showing no signs of a social interest to anyone, clocking in at 8:30 in the morning, and leaving his desk for the last time at 21:30 every day. You knew you found him lethally attractive the second he was introduced to your department, and for the longest time, you had no desire to get ahead of yourself. But, unfortunately, he was like an addiction. And you very well knew you were playing with fire, but you let the flames engulf you anyway.”
Completion: 35%
Lenght: Long
Office!au
Business As Usual [Lee Minho]
“There were things you absolutely hated about working under the same company with Lee Minho. You didn’t hate your job in particular as it paid the bills, the rent and all that, not to mention you did fight tooth and nail to be where you were. But, to put it in simple terms, Lee Minho was a pain in your ass. He was cocky, he knew what he was doing, and you sometimes wanted to respect him for his work ethic. Sometimes. But it didn’t help that you, a member of the finance department, had to deal with his absolute, utter bullshit.”
Completion: 15%
Lenght: Long
Office!au(ish)
Maybe You’re Not the Worst Thing Ever [Han Jisung]
“You couldn’t help it, you really couldn’t. You really just wanted to wipe that stupid smirk off of Han Jisung’s face sometimes, or maybe deck him onto the damn ice rink. Especially when he caught you in the lockers area before his game, just as the ice rink was being prepared for his team’s ice hockey match. Especially when his “compliments” to your figure skating attire were laced with undertones of sarcasm. Especially when he reached to take off the faux orange rose on your hair, a part of the said attire, blocking your hands swatting at his as he claimed the flower as a “souvenir”. Especially when he called you out for not executing the Axel jump perfectly. And especially when he asked you for a good luck kiss in front of his teammates.”
Completion: 2%
Lenght: Long
Series: Varsity AU
Mood Killer [Bang Chan]
“You didn’t know why you, the star middle-distance runner, and Bang Chan, the captain of the swimming team, hated each other in the first place. Sure, you could have been rough around the edges on your first year when you met him. But throughout your second year, and the first semester of the third year where you didn’t cross paths much, and mostly ignored each other even if you did, you matured into an adult. Seeing him on your third year, you thought maybe he did too. He did not, at least not for the better. He still thought you were “insufferable”, but he somehow wanted to repeat what happened on that Halloween party where you met him. And you let him have his way; you let him fuck you all the way from that winter break in your third year to now, a week before the fall term finals of your last year. And you would never admit it to his face, but you enjoyed every second of it.”
Completion: 2%
Lenght: Long
Series: Varsity AU
Everybody Knows This Song [Bang Chan]
“Everyone knew that Han Jisung never made bets he knew he wouldn’t win. You knew it too, but a sudden burst of confidence on a Friday night out meant that you fell right into one of his traps. You should have known that the trickster would come up with something interesting when he didn’t tell you what your end of the deal would be right away. However, it didn’t really ring any alarms for you when a couple days later he told you that he wanted you to go on a blind date with someone of his choosing. What could possibly go wrong with that?”
Completion: 5%
Lenght: Mid/Long
Hybrid!au
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I have actually a genuine criticism for dark resins, and sculpts too kinda. Starting with the sculpts. I can never find a male doll in the sculpt I want. I'm looking for strong features, imagine a more realistic version of the Gerudo for a male doll, straight nose, kinda sharp and sculpted, without looking angry. You literally can't find any diversity in male sculpts specifically for brown resins. You either got like 2 afrocentric M dolls, and a bunch of sculpts where brown is just an alternate or "fantasy" colour for the sculpt, which I don't really count.
But now to the resin. You know the pale resins? With undertones like: White, Yellow, Pink, and the occasional mix of pink and yellow. Even fantasy colours are most often pale: Purple, blue, pink, yellow, etc. Almost all fantasy colours are either light pastels, or some mid range tone. Most of these tones are actually super easy to match even when there are a few shades differences, exception are mostly the fantasy tones, but even there you can wing it if it's the same colour group, so like pastel. Pale shades are pretty forgiving when you blush them properly, and only need two or three layers for a good match if you know what you're doing. Doing face-ups on them is also super easy because most colours obviously only need a few layers.
You know what isn't easy? Brown tones. You know why? Because while pale shades have like 4 easy categories, it's like playing art on easy mode bc it's like using a "white" sheer of paper to work on. and fantasy colours are rare but pretty distinct. Brown tones are just a uncharted sea of shades after the leave the medium tan range. Brown tones can have red, blue, green, orange, yellow, purple, and even grey undertones, while the pale tones are 3 distinct categories + a mixed: White/neutral. Yellow. Pink. Then there's the "mixed" one which is a mix of some pink and yellow. There are too many shades of brown, and the thing is, they don't even seem consistent within one company. Understandable since darker tones seem more unstable/harder to mix well, and the end result can change based on outside factors. Adding to that the trouble of sanding, and seams, and how brown tones darker than medium tan are gonna get those weird sanding spots that just look terrible.
Face-ups? A fucking battle against the tides. If you have to match the tones, you already might have to spend forever figuring what undertone the body has, again, you got around 7 more difficult to distinguish undertones instead of 4, especially since brown tones don't even tell you what undertone to expect. You can't rely on promo pics either. Pale tones tell you what the undertone, Brown tones be like: Good fucking luck, homegirl/boy! if you want a perfect match, good luck. + Pale shades can be easily matched with pastels when used right. Brown shades need more heavy machinery, like an airbrush because pastels just don't work as well.
But ok, now you're at the face-up. How many layers are you gonna need until your pretty boy or girl actually show some of the pastels? Pastel-dust is absolute ass for layering onto a dark background, and it can quickly turn into caking it on and become muddy. So you spend hours trying to get those colours popping, and then... fuck, you got a muddy clown, because you both over and underestimated the power of pastels, and turns out you didn't realise how patchy it was getting. Well guess who's gonna have to wipe the entire face, re-match the head, and then hope the next round for the face-up is more merciful. YOU.
But halt you say. What about making it pop with water colours and acrylics, maybe gouache. Yeah sure that works, also might look super awesome. Or you end up like tons of people and give the doll those weird overlip beards when you try to frame the lips. Hell, even experienced artists regularly give a weird over the lip line, either in black, aka moustache, or white aka milkstache. Or maybe you just make the lashes look crusty because you realise that brown-black painted lashes literally seem to be invisible on the dark resin, so you try using lighter shades, and now it just looks weird. And do you really wanna rely of paint for the rest of your artist-career every time you want to do a face-up on brown dolls? Maybe you can use the pale base technique for eyeshadows, make a pale base with paint, and then put the pastels on that. But it's still not gonna do much with blush. TLDR: Working with Brown resin is fucking hard and time intensive.
~Anonymous
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the bad boy’s secret | chanyeol
↳ pairing : badboy!chanyeol x reader
Genre ➞ bad boy AU, fwb AU, college AU, smut
Warnings ➞ sub!chanyeol, dom!reader, bondage, oral (m. & f. receiving), edging, unprotected sex, riding, mild dirty talk, mild degrading, creampie, face riding, cum eating [ sorry not sorry ], reader is in denial , overuse of the word please
Word Count ➞ 8.2k
chanyeol is a bad boy with a nasty reputation. he’s sexy, mysterious, and entirely untouchable. well... to most people, that is. to you, on the other hand-- he’s something else entirely.
posted ; 6.04.20
there was an angry chill in the air. it bit at your face and hands as you strode to the campus lot where your car was parked. all around you, brightly colored leaves fell to the earth as strong gusts of wind broke them free of the branches they so weakly clung to. they blanketed the ground in shades of vibrant reds, tempting oranges, and dull, blotchy browns.
it was actually really beautiful. you'd always been a fan of the cool undertones of fall. especially the reds. ugh, red was such a gorgeous color. practically everything you owned was red, or some varying shade of it. it was just so sexy and dangerous and—
"(y/n)!" you were snapped from your inner thoughts by a barking voice.
quickly, you averted your eyes from the ground and onto the face of the girl walking beside you. her name is Mina, you're pretty sure. you grimaced at her irritated expression, realizing you must have zoned out again. getting lost in your thoughts at inappropriate times was a pretty frequent occurrence for you.
"huh?"
she scoffed in disbelief, eyes narrowing, "where's your head at? i've been talking for a solid five minutes and i'm pretty sure you stopped listening six minutes ago."
you chuckled, scratching the back of your neck as an apologetic smile touched your lips, "sorry. i was just thinking about the leaves."
"you're so weird."
you didn't know why she felt comfortable saying that to you. you weren't even friends. at least, not by your standards. maybe acquaintances. maybe.
and that was only because you happened to have the same afternoon photography class and just so happened to sit next to each other. you supposed in her pea sized brain that was enough to qualify for a friendship. but you had standards. and she was god damn rude.
regardless, you didn't have the energy or patience to start any sort of altercation. so you shrug, head bobbing lazily in agreement.
"i know."
that seemed to satisfy her as any remaining glimmer of annoyance was swept off her features with one last eye roll and replaced by a light grin, "whatever. hey, there's this party at my boyfriend's frat house tonight and you should totally come."
"no thanks." was your swift, concise rejection. but of course, that was not enough to satisfy her.
"what? why not?" her tone demanded an explanation that you really didn't feel like giving.
sighing heavily, you kicked a pebble across the sidewalks. "parties aren't my thing."
that was maybe half the truth. you actually did like parties. just not frat boy parties. they were like beacons for girls with low self esteem and insecure rich boys with superiority complexes. they were loud as fuck and made your head ache. not to mention they reeked. apparently, a lot of guys didn't learn in high school how to put on deodorant. your preference stood with more low key parties, with a more controlled number of attendees and some chill drinking. maybe getting a little baked if you were in that vibe.
"you can be such a buzzkill," she groaned loudly, head rolling back as she stomped her foot childishly. you resisted the urge to roll your eyes.
"i know."
"do you ever just let yourself have a good time? like ever? we're in the prime of our lives for god’s sake!" and there she goes again with the 'prime of our lives' bullshit. please. maybe this was the best life would ever be for her, but you had other plans.
"i have to finish an essay for my business class." no you didn't.
"but it's friday! you have all weekend to finish it!" why was she trying to argue with you? you'd already said no, so why was she still trying to convince you. spoiler, you weren't about to change your mind anytime soon.
"i prefer not to put work off until the very last minute." also a lie.
"(y/n)," she whined, "come on, i personally think it would be pretty healthy for you not to spend another friday night pent up in that little apartment of yours—"
all at once she was cut off by the distinct roaring of an engine. both your gazes shifted towards the road ahead of you, watching as a flashy red motorcycle came tearing down the street. an excited gasp exploded from your–barely–acquaintance's mouth while a low groan escaped yours.
fantastic. just what you needed. your daily dose of—
"Yeolie!"
you winced as she squealed his name, waving energetically. you silent prayed he'd just keep going. but of course, he didn't. his bike came to a gradual halt in front of the sidewalk you stood on. it purred as he planted his feet securely on the cement.
now this next part you could almost see happening in slow motion.
he reached up with his leather glove clad hands, pulling off his sleek black helmet to reveal a pair of thick, pink lips, a sharp, defined nose, charcoal black eyes, and a head of silver locks. you could practically feel Mina swooning as he swung his head to the side, effectively flipping his hair like some kind of wannabe fetus Justin Bieber. it took less than a moment for those dark eyes to fall on the pair of you, and a slow smirk to crawl across his face.
Mina immediately rushed up to him (all too energetically for someone who already has a boyfriend, mind you), squeaking out sweet greetings as her touchy hands found purchase on the sleeve of his leather jacket.
what was up with him and the leather anyway? it was only on shockingly rare occasions that you witnessed him donning something other than his signature black leather outfit, decorated with silver zippers and complimented by a thick chain around his neck and a single silver earring. how much cheesier could he get?
you'd think after high school, people would be over the whole 'bad boys are so hot' thing.
apparently not.
because at your uni, Park Chanyeol was hot shit. every girl and every guy wanted to get their hands on him in one way or another. he was dangerous, sexy, mysterious, hard to get. he rode a blood red motorcycle and smoked blunts behind the main building for god's sake.
he was the definition of a cliche. but it seemed you were the only person that could see through his whole charade.
"(y/n), don't be rude! come say hi to Yeolie!" Mina suddenly whipped around, waving you over.
this bitch—
the corner of your lip twitched in a subtle sneer, but, ever the pacifist, you obliged, slowly moving to stand at her side. his irritating smirk widened upon your approach, tongue swinging over the corner of his lip as his eyes dropped to do a brief once over.
"Chanyeol," you grunted with a less than enthusiastic tone.
"(y/n)," was his swift reply, voice as deep and smooth as ever, "wonderful seeing you again. you look as happy-go-lucky as ever."
the sarcasm was palpable.
"yeah well, it seems i just can't contain myself with you around," you bit back with just as much satire, lips curling dryly.
"i'm flattered," he all but cooed, head tilting downward as his teeth latched onto his bottom lip.
he stared boldly into your eyes, and you stared right back with just as much fire.
"um... do you guys, like... know each other?"
"no."
"yes."
you both responded simultaneously.
confusion plastered itself across her face, eyes jumping back and forth from your face to his. a taunting smile tugged at the corners of his lips, "we actually went to the same high school, isn't that right, (y/n)?"
you huffed in annoyance, shoulders slumping, "yeah. we did."
"and you never told me this because…?"
because you weren't close in the least and you hadn't even told her when your birthday was let alone about your high school life.
"didn't seem like important information."
she gaped at you in disbelief, "anything regarding my Yeolie is important information!"
was she trying to stroke his already colossal ego? if his head got any bigger, it might just explode.
Chanyeol’s grin broadened at her statement, and you silently groaned, knowing exactly what was coming before he even opened his mouth, "yeah, (y/n). anything regarding me is important information. so why didn't you tell her? trying to keep me all for yourself? how greedy of you."
"please." you scoffed.
Mina glared at you sharply before plastering an innocent smile across her face and twirling a strand of her platinum blonde dyed hair. "ignore her, Yeolie. i was actually wondering if i'd be seeing you at Jake's party tonight?"
"wasn't planning on it," he admitted, and Mina pouted, lips puckering, over dramatically whining in protest. suddenly, his eyes shifted to you, that stupid smirk touching his features, "but maybe if a certain buzzkill was attending... i'd be more tempted to make an appearance."
buzzkill? oh, you.
"i'm not—"
"of course (y/n)'s coming! wouldn't be a party without her!" Mina rushed to cut you off, throwing an arm over your shoulder and yanking you into her side with a grip tight enough to bruise. you looked at her like she was crazy, brows furrowed, eyes wide, lip raised in a disgusted sneer. but her hold was enough to squeeze the air out of your lungs and steal away your ability to refute.
Chanyeol’s brows jumped in surprise, an amused grin spreading across his face, "really?"
"wait, no—"
"yes! i was surprised when she agreed, too! but guess she's finally breaking out of her shell!" you were going to kick her ass if she kept cutting you off.
"well isn't that great to hear." there was a mischievous flicker in his dark eyes, a look you knew all too well.
"so... you'll come?" she asked hopefully.
"sure." you were annoyed at how easily he agreed. he was still smirking smugly as he began pulling his helmet back down over his head. shooting you a wink and a two fingered wave, he spoke again, "see ya tonight."
with that final word, he was speeding off down the road, tires kicking up dust and pebbles as they spun.
as soon as Mina's grip loosened from around you, you were ten feet away, swiftly walking in the direction of your car. "(y/n)! wait!" she cried out, running after you in her five inch heels. you didn't slow down in the least.
"i'm not going, Mina," you said sternly, not even bothering to look back at her.
"b–but i told Chanyeol—"
"no."
"please?"
"not. happening."
⋄⋆⋄
you ended up going.
not because you wanted to, of course. but because Mina decided it was necessary to show up at your apartment and quite literally drag you out. she was surprisingly strong for such a small person, and fiercely persistent. she'd even gone the extra mile of forcefully applying makeup to your eyelids and lips. that's not to say you didn't put up one hell of a fight. but conflict was never your strong suite, and you eventually ended up going pliant under her ministrations.
unsurprisingly, it was just as you expected it to be. loud. stinky. and filled to the brim with horny bastards looking for a quick fuck. you'd been there for all of ten minutes and you'd already gotten your ass grabbed six times. slimy assholes think it's acceptable to touch someone without permission. all the more reason you didn't want to stick around for long.
not to mention, Mina had ditched you the minute you walked in the door to suck faces with her fuckboy boyfriend. since then you'd been gravitating from room to room, searching for the best place to sit without being squished by a horny couple practically dry humping against you.
luckily, you found your solace upstairs in an empty bedroom. the music was muffled the moment you shut the door, the stuffy air that smelled of sweat and marijuana also clearing out. finally, you could breathe.
you spotted a candle and lighter on the bedside table, and quickly moved to light it. the dull, soothing glow that filled the room, splashing light across the walls made the headache that had begun to swell at your temples ease up. exhaling softly, you fell back onto the neatly made bed, body relaxing into the soft duvet.
but of course, your moment of tranquility was short lasting.
because before you could so much as shut your eyes, the door was opening, and a painfully familiar voice was purring, "there you are~ i've been looking all over for you, (y/n), you sly girl."
"fucking hell," you growled under your breath, propping yourself up on your elbows to face him properly, "what do you want, Chanyeol?"
he gently nudged the door shut behind him, before walking over to where you lay. "isn't it obvious?" he murmured, leaning forward to press his hands against the mattress on either side of your ankles.
"spell it out for me."
he chuckled softly, knees meeting the bedding as he began to crawl upwards, until his face was hovering over yours. even you couldn't deny how beautiful he looked up close, with those big, dark eyes, boyishly grinning lips, smooth, tan skin...
"i," he began, nose nudging against your cheek, "want," his lips feathered over yours, "you."
a dark chuckle rolled off your tongue as you met his hooded, lustful gaze. "you we're so greedy last time... and still... you couldn't get enough," you replied smoothly, voice deepening as your desire for him grew.
"what can i say? i'm insatiable."
you scoffed, the corners of your lips curling as you lifted your head slightly, leaving only the tiniest of spaces between your mouth, "i don't think you deserve it." your whisper caressed his lips all too temptingly. A chill rolled down his spine, eyes fluttering as he felt himself falter briefly.
"maybe i don't... but i can earn it..."
now that caught your interest.
a smirk touched your features, "and how might you do that?"
he bit his lip, trying his best to subdue a grin, "by doing whatever you ask of me."
"you willing to take that risk? after that little stunt earlier? i might just decide not to go easy on you." your voice was taunting, but the challenge and threat were very real.
"i can handle anything you give me."
you raised a brow, amused by his naive confidence. then, in the blink of an eye, you had him underneath you, pinning his wrists to the mattress above his head. the action had been so sudden that he could only gasp in shock when his back collided with the bed. you stared down at him with dark eyes, the tip of your tongue sliding over the corner of your mouth.
"you sure about that, big boy?"
he inhaled deeply when your head lowered to the curve of his throat, lips just barely grazing over that sensitive spot. "most definitely." he let out breathlessly, eyes fluttering as he tilted his chin back, offering himself to you. something dark alighted in your eyes, a sinister gleam in your smirk as thoughts of how you could absolutely ruin him flooded your mind.
"you're going to regret saying that."
you didn’t offer him the opportunity to respond before your lips crashed down on his. he let out a muffled sound of surprise at the sudden action, but quickly relaxed beneath you, returning the kiss eagerly.
see? you much preferred Chanyeol when he wasn’t running that big mouth of his. he was always so much more fun when he was choking on desperate moans and trembling uncontrollably under your touch.
truth about the infamous Park Chanyeol? he was a bitch.
in fact... he was your bitch.
it started back in high school. when you were the chill girl who wasn't too well known by anyone outside of your friend group, and when he was the untouchable bad boy that everyone drooled over.
to keep it to the point, you'd both attended a mutual friend's party your senior year, got wasted, and hooked up.
but, it wasn't what you'd expected it to be. no, because you'd expect Chanyeol to be the kind of guy to pin a girl (or guy) down and dominate the fuck out of them. but the moment your voice took on an authoritative pitch, he was putty in your hands, whining and moaning and begging... it stirred something to life inside of you that you had no idea was there.
and it was good. really good. so good, in fact, he came running back to you within the next week practically begging for more. and shit, you gave it to him. he was one of the first guys you'd dominated like that. it was empowering, controlling a guy as big as Chanyeol was. it was an addictive sensation.
but you'd made it very clear from the beginning that it was going to be nothing more than sex. it wasn't romantic, you weren't friends, and you had no intention of getting to know him on a deeper level than his body. though, he seemed suspiciously intent on worming his way into your life one way or another. the boy was relentless. luckily, you were equally as stubborn. a match made in hell, aren’t you? what a spectacle.
you drew away from the kiss at the feeling of his tongue prodding at your lips, a low whine following soon after. you scoffed softly at the sight of his pouting face, “so needy.”
“you can only blame yourself.” he shot back easily, eyes already hooded and darkened with lust. excitement glimmered within them as you reached down between your bodies, fingers slowly undoing his belt.
“is that right?” you murmured, not breaking eye contact for a single moment, a lazy smirk resting on your face. he swallowed, trembling pupils jumping noncommittally from your intense stare down to where you were making easy work of his belt buckle.
“i— yes.” you don’t think he knew what he was saying yes to, his mind already becoming a muddled mess from the promise of what the night had in store for the two of you. his rationality had a nasty habit of hopping out the window whenever you got him in this position.
“what are you hoping happens tonight, Chanyeol?” you asked softly, slowly pulling his belt from the first loop of his jeans.
he swallowed thickly, head beginning to swing back and forth is slow swoops. “i– i don’t—” his voice broke off with a strangled whine as you allowed your fingertips to caress ever so gently over the ever growing tent in his pants.
you raised a brow into a questioning arch, stifling a smirk of amusement at his already flustered state. “it’s a simple question.”
his cheeks pinkened. “i just… want you.” it almost came out more as a question than a statement, words shy and hesitant.
“want me to what?” you pressed.
“to… to kiss me.” his gaze fell onto your lips, his own parting.
“kiss you?” you repeated, tone on the verge of taunting. “asking for a lot there, aren’t you, sweetheart?”
you were teasing him, but he didn’t seem to mind, blinking slowly as he dragged his tongue over the pink swell of his thick lower lip. “want you to touch me…” his voice lowered an octave, deep, lustful eyes looking up at you intensely.
“where?”
“everywhere.” he replied without missing a beat. “anywhere. just— just want your hands. or your mouth. i’ll take anything that you give me… but you already know that.”
you really loved the sound of his voice when he got like this. it was softer than cotton and smoother than silk, rumbling so deep in his chest that you could almost mistake it for purring. it spilled off his lips like the thickest, sweetest honey, so lush and lovely, dripping with shameless desire. something about it was so soothing. and the sounds he made were even better, his guttural groans and melodic moans were nothing short of symphonies. and you were the conductor.
chuckling, you smirked down at him. “you’re right. i do already know that.” he gasped as you suddenly yanked his belt completely free. “now be a good little bitch and grab onto the headboard.”
he eagerly complied, capturing his lip between his teeth as he watched you bind his wrists above his head. his eyes slowly dragged over your face, drifting over the length of your neck, following the smooths swells of your chest beneath your black tank top. a low groan slid from his lips as you pressed your hips forward slightly, just barely grinding against his growing erection. his eyes snapped up at the sound of your soft laughter.
“my eyes are up here, sweetheart.” you hummed, pulling his belt taught before looping it around one of the vertical wooden bars.
“and beautiful eyes they are.” he grinned up at you in that boyishly charming way, shooting you a playful wink. you scoffed, hands drifting down to rest on his firm chest before one raised to grip his jaw, tilting his head upward. lowering your own head, you allowed your lips to caress teasingly over his.
“maybe i should gag you, too. keep that pretty mouth in check,” you mused, dragging your thumb slowly over his full lips, “but unfortunately i think i enjoy the sound of your voice almost as much as you do. especially when you're moaning my name. god it’s so hot.”
you almost growled as he took your finger into his mouth, moaning softly around it. you swooped down, swiftly replacing your finger with your lips. the kiss was deep, rough, and hungry. distracted by your weaponized tongue, he didn’t process that you were unbuttoning his jeans until they were being pushed down his thighs and your hand was gripping his arousal through his thin black boxers.
“fuck, (y/n),” he groaned deeply into your mouth, arms gently tugging against their restraints. you dragged your lips away from his, face lowering so that you could suck your mark onto the expanse of his neck. he sighed blissfully, hot breath rushing over your ear as he subtly rolled his hips, body temperature rising steadily. you bit down on his collarbone, hands pushing up under his shirt to feel at his toned, well built torso. he was so hard, muscles rigid and protruding, so warm to the touch.
it was rather amazing. a guy as big as Chanyeol, as strong and as confident, could easily get the upper hand over you if he wanted. he could flip you over and pin you down without so much as breaking a sweat. but he didn’t. he let you pin him down, tie him up, dominate him, mind and body. he allowed himself to submit to you, to be taken by you: slowly, quickly, roughly, gently, he didn’t care, but dammit he enjoyed every second of it. and if that didn’t give you a rush of power, then you don’t know what could.
goosebumps rose across his honeyed skin as you pushed his shirt up to fully expose his tight body to your ravenous eyes, a chill rolling down his spine when you lowered your mouth to latch onto the smooth swell of his pectoral. he moaned quietly, back arching as you peppered kisses down his abdomen, slowly shifting lower, lower, lower… until your face was level with his bulge.
a sound of excitement flooded past his lips, his breathing becoming rapid and deep. “really?” he asked hopefully, voice breathless and light. a slow smirk crawled across your lips and you chuckled at the way he jolted with a moan when you pressed a slow kiss to his clothed arousal.
“really.” you hummed in confirmation. “you said you wanted my mouth, didn’t you?”
he frantically bobbed his head. “yes. yes, god yes. please.” you almost laughed at his shameless display of desperation. he let out a deep, strained groan as you flicked your tongue over his clothed erection, head falling back.
“ah ah, eyes on me, baby.” you scolded mildly, squeezing his thighs in warning. he lifted his head without argument, face flushed and glistening with faint perspiration, lip caught in a tight grip between his teeth, brows furrowed.
from your viewpoint, he looked rather beautiful: arms bound above his head, exposed chest rising and falling dramatically with each deep breath, messy silver hair falling flawlessly over his hooded, lustful eyes.
and he in turn was also quite taken by how perfect you looked between his legs: smirking lips hovering right over where he needed them most, dark, penetrating gaze making his body tremble with an unspoken need.
your fingers slipped under the elastic of his boxers, slowly easing them down his thighs until his length sprang free. “there he is,” you murmured, tongue dragging over your lower lip as you admired him, long and thick and swollen, precum spilling over his hot, red tip. he shuddered in delight as you traced your finger over a vein.
“(y/n)…” his usually deep voice was pleading and airy, hands curling into tight fists above his head, “please.”
you smiled up at him innocently before delivering a teasing kitten lick to his sensitive tip. he whined softly, hips twitching as his need for you increased tenfold.
a slightly more sadistic side of you rather enjoyed watching him squirm. perhaps it was that hidden part of you that wanted nothing more than to tease him into oblivion with insubstantial caresses and borderline torturous kisses until he was writhing helplessly and there were tears spilling from those beautiful big brown eyes.
however, a larger part of you craved the sight of his stunning, fucked out expression. the one where his face glistened with sweat, thick pink lips swollen and red from being ruthlessly and relentlessly attacked by those pearly whites, puppy dog eyes hooded and fluttering, fighting to remain open against his mind's desire to just melt completely into the pleasure coursing like hot lava through his veins. that was the face you wanted to see more than anything.
a broken moan flooded from his gaping mouth as you fastened your lips around his tip, the taste of his salty precum immediately lathering your tongue. he trembled as you hummed lightly around him, mouth silently forming the words ‘oh god’ as the vibrations sent sparks of pleasure shooting through his body like static shock.
“feels good, (y/n),” he whined weakly, stomach tensing, “feels so good.”
your response was to thrust your head down and as much of him into your mouth as possible. he cried out, hips snapping up at the feeling of your gentle sucking. you were quick to pin them back down, a warning glare darkening your gaze.
“‘m sorry—,” he slurred, panting heavily, “i’m sorry.” he was quick to submit, fighting against the painfully strong urge to fuck himself up into your warm mouth and forcing his quivering body to go pliant beneath your ministrations. satisfied for the time being, you dragged your tongue from his base to his weeping head, tracing slow, taunting circles over his most sensitive place.
a broken moan was all he could manage as his cock twitched tellingly, precum spilling down his throbbing length. you fixed your lips back around his tip, sucking gently. his thighs trembled at the sensation it sent shooting through his veins, a breathless ‘oh’ pulsing from his pink-bitten lips.
“(y/n)— (y/n), if you keep doing that—” the warning was clear, but you wanted to see just how close you could bring him to his release before stealing it away last second. it was always fun to watch how hard he came down from his high when he was denied of it. it was delicious, the way he gasped and trembled, shuddering hips desperately seeking out more frictions, but never receiving it. he was so cute when he got like that.
“you gonna come, baby?” you cooed, replacing your mouth with your hand and shifting upwards so that you could look directly into his eyes. you wanted to be able to see the look in his pretty brown eyes when you stole away his release. he whimpered, head bobbing rapidly as he caught his lower lip between his teeth.
“please.”
you only offered a low, contemplative hum before a wicked smirk struck your features. “not yet.”
a sob broke from his lips as you drew away from his throbbing dick, his high stolen only moments before it could come crashing down over him. his hips bucked, desperately seeking the friction you so cruelly denied him of, but finding nothing but empty air in place of your warm touch. his muscles trembled, broken pleas spilling from his quivering lips.
“(y-y/n), no— please,” he gasped out, arms tugging against the sturdy binds, fingers aching to touch you, grab onto you, hold you.
you hushed him with sweet words, pressing a soothing kiss to the cut of his jaw, hands massaging the bulk of his muscular thighs and holding still his stuttering hips.
“fuck– i hate it when you do that.” he cursed weakly, glassy eyes peering up into yours.
“no you don’t.” you chuckled softly, brushing his damp bangs out of his face in an unexpectedly tender gesture.
“you’re right, i don’t.” he relented easily, the corners of his lips curling subtly.
a sudden silence fell over you, and it took you a moment to realize that he was looking at you with those eyes— the ones you knew all too well. the ones you’d told him plenty of times to drop. because those weren’t the kind of eyes you were supposed to look at a fuck buddy with. those weren’t the kind of eyes that just anybody could be on the receiving end of, most definitely not you.
“don’t look at me like that.” you warned, hardening your expression.
“i can’t help it.” he breathed. you felt your stomach twist. damnit.
“then close ‘em, Park. before I decide to blindfold you, too.”
it seemed your threat wasn’t very well received, as the smile adorning his features only expanded, the corners of his eyes crinkling endearingly.
“that doesn’t sound too bad.”
a dry laugh burst from your lips. “god, you’re so fucking submissive. how has nobody else untangled your little ruse, hm? acting all big and tough on the outside when all you really want is to be tied up and fucked like a horny little bitch. am i really the only one that’s got you figured out?” you hummed thoughtfully, tracing your fingers down his throat and caressing his collarbone.
“you’re the only one, (y/n).”
for some reason… you had a strange feeling that that sentence held more meaning than you were willing to decipher.
“you tell all your little side fucks that?” you taunted, disguising the slight tremor in your chest with a dangerous smirk.
he shook his head, gaze not wavering for a moment. “there’s no one else. only you.”
fuck. you needed him to stop talking. so, you did the one thing that always did the trick: shoving your fingers down his throat. he let out a muffled sound of surprise at the unexpected intrusion, a sound that easily melted into a low moan, his tongue immediately getting to work lapping at your digits.
“you talk too much.” you murmured, taking him off guard and eliciting a low groan from the back of his throat as you ground yourself down on his naked length. “you came to get fucked, didn’t you, sweetheart?”
he eagerly nodded his head, hips nudging up excitedly against your own.
“thought so.” you chuckled.
through wide, glassy eyes, Chanyeol watched you push yourself upright, straddling his thighs. just as he was about to ask what you were doing, you grabbed the hem of your tank top and peeled it off over your head, discarding it onto the floor, your pants fast to follow.
“fuck. you’re so beautiful.” he groaned deeply, ravenous gaze raking over your nearly naked form. you smirked at him cockily.
“i know.”
a surprised laugh erupted from his lips at your blunt reply, eyes glinting with something akin to admiration. “as you should.”
smiling to yourself, you swiftly climbed back on top of him, not wasting any time before grabbing hold of his throbbing dick. he let out a breath of appreciation at the contact, biting at the inside of his cheek. every muscle in his body tightened as you teasingly traced his tip over your clothed heat, his precum slickening the thin fabric.
“are you wet?” he asked weakly, voice so airy and strained that you almost missed it.
grinning devilishly, you toyed with the elastic. “do you wanna find out?”
“yes,” he all but hissed out, muscular arms straining against their secure restraints, “fuck— yes, please.”
“mmm, you sound so hot when you're desperate to get fucked.” you groaned softly, nudging your underwear to the side in order to slip his head through your hot arousal. he shuddered at the sensation, his pupils blown wide with lust as he watched you tease not only him but yourself as well with fleeting caresses of his needy length against your burning core.
“(y/n).” his deep voice had become little more than a breathless whimper singed with molten desire. you felt your pulse jump at the very sound of it, your own want for him swelling with every passing second.
Chanyeol let out a broken gasp as you sunk down on him, cursing weakly as you took him in inch by inch. a low hum vibrated on your lips at the blissful stretch, hot tendrils of pleasure igniting throughout your body.
“sometimes i forget just how good you feel inside of me.” you breathed out heavily, peering down at his already fucked out expression with a coy smirk.
“i could never forget.” he moaned, roughly biting his lower lip. a slow, deep grind of your hips had his head of unruly silver locks tossed back into the plush pillows, an unsteady groan of your name filling the hot, heavy air surrounding you.
“fuck, go faster.”
he realized his mistake only when your fingers were pressing into the length of his throat, all motion ceased. “is that how you ask for things?” you asked, voice dangerously calm.
he was quick to shake his head, eager to right his wrong. “please. please go faster.”
“that’s better.”
a rough sob is pulled from his flushed throat (which you’re almost certain will be raw tomorrow morning) as you fuck yourself down onto him. the pace was fast, hungry, rough. his back bowing off the mattress, hips pulsing upward, desperate to meet each thrust half way.
“(y/n),” you almost moaned at the sight of his body rolling beneath yours, muscles flexed and trembling, toned arms straining against the tight hold of his belt, the leather biting pretty red marks into his wrists, “i wanna touch you— please let me touch you. let me feel you, baby. you know i can make you feel good.”
his begging caused a playful grin to draw itself across your face. “should i?” you murmured thoughtfully, rolling your hips in slow, controlled circles. a low, throaty moan vibrated in your chest as he thrust himself up inside of you, just barely brushing over that perfect little spot.
“i can be so good for you. please… let me be good for you, (y/n).”
“well when you say it like that…” you sighed, feeling any remaining resolve come crumbling down.
excitement ignited in his dark eyes, and he watched with bated breath as you reached up, getting to work on freeing him from the binds.
the very moment the belt fell slack, releasing his hands, they were on your skin, eager and impatient, tugging you down into a heated kiss. it was messy and rough, all biting teeth and lashing tongues. not that you minded much, it was always fun reminding him who was in charge, one way or another.
his wandering hands eagerly explored the expanse of your body, squeezing, pressing, pulling. and you let him have his fun, let him push the limits, testing your boundaries with every curious prod and trembling caress.
it was only when you felt his fingers pressing into the swells of your ass and begin guiding your movements that you drew the line. it took all of a few seconds for you to have his wrists pinned down on either side of his head.
you pulled away from his lips was a disappointed sigh, tongue clicking. “still no restraint, i see? i’m disappointed. i thought you said you’d be good for me, yeolie? was that good?” he all but whimpered, his head, too muddled from pleasure to form coherent words, shaking remorsefully. “no… that was very bad. bad boy, yeolie.”
his dick throbbed so hard inside of you that you could’ve sworn he’d almost just come.
a scoff of both amazement and disbelief escaped your lips. “you like being called a bad boy?”
how ironic.
color flushed into his cheeks, embarrassment shining in his big, glassy eyes that were now refusing to meet your gaze.
“look at me.”
he gasped as you purposely clenched around him, thrusting your hips back until he was balls deep, successfully forcing his attention onto your face. you grabbed his chin securely between your thumb and forefinger, and lowered your head to the point where your lips were just barely brushing over his. his pupils were blown and trembling as they met yours.
“you wanna be my bad boy, baby?”
his jaw fell open, a thunderous moan breaking from his chest.
“yes.”
“say it.” you all but growled, tone leaving no room for argument.
at this point, he was too lost in his own desire to feel any real shame.
“i wanna be your bad boy.”
a triumphant smirk curled onto your face, and you rewarded him with a gentle kiss to his quivering lips. “you gonna come for me, bad boy?” he was already bobbing his head frantically before you’d even fully gotten the question out. you chuckled sadistically at his unabashed desperation. “should i let you?”
“(y/n), please— i don’t think i can— fuck.” he panted out, voice shuddering and breaking as you fucked yourself down on him at just the right pace to keep him teetering dangerously on the edge without completely throwing him over. you bit your lip, pleasure exploding like firecrackers in your veins as he thrusted into you. fuck, if he didn’t stop hitting that spot…
his hands curled into tight fists where they were pinned to the mattress, dull nails biting smooth crescents into his palm. noticing this, you took it upon yourself to weave your fingers through his, holding his hands in an unexpectedly tender display. only because you didn’t want him to accidentally hurt himself… that was all.
but, perhaps it was a mistake.
because that look returned to his eyes with vengeance, his features melting into bursting admiration and unspoken emotion. this time, you ignored it, too gone in your own pleasure to spare it a second thought. that’s what you convinced yourself of, anyways.
he was pulsing intensely against your slick walls, twitching cock threatening to erupt at any given second. you could tell he was fighting to hold himself back, the veins in his throat growing prominent from the strenuous effort. it was admirable in a way, how desperately he wanted to please you, even if it meant denying himself of the greatest pleasure of all. you’d encountered very few men with that kind of will power. so you couldn’t help but to respect it when you saw it in Chanyeol.
“you look like you’re about to explode.” you taunted breathlessly, lips pulled into a lust hazed smirk. “it’d be cruel of me to tell you to hold it, wouldn’t it?”
he whimpered helplessly, obviously not sure which answer would satisfy you and which would coax you into further torturing his already wrecked body.
you offered a rasping chuckled. “you’re lucky that i’m feeling rather generous today.”
something between a sob and a moan are thrown past his lips as you slam yourself down on him, purposefully squeezing your walls around him. he cries out your name desperately, imploringly. you know he can’t hold back anymore, no matter how hard he tries. his body was going to come whether he liked it or not. you felt in the way he throbbed and twitched inside of you, heard it in the way he groaned and sighed, saw it in the way his eyes rolled, body shuddering uncontrollably.
“come.”
and he fucking did.
his body stalled, back arching off the bad, hips sputtering up in sharp, quick thrusts, the sound of skin on skin contact resonating through the room. you cooed, relishing in the way he quivered and keener beneath you, mouth gaping silently for a few moments before growling moans finally broke through, rumbling so deep in his chest you could have easily mistaken it for thunder.
you let him fill you up, painting your walls with his release, knowing damn well your intentions once he was finished.
“that’s it, baby…” you cooed, releasing one of his clenched fists to caress his feverish face, tracing the lower line of his plump lip, swollen and red from his relentless biting.
“oh! look at that. you made a mess, sweetheart.” you purred, smirking wickedly as you watched his arousal drip out of you and onto his now half hard cock. he moaned at the sight, cursing under his breath. “I think it’s only right if you clean it up.”
his eyes snapped up to meet yours, excitement immediately burning with his hazy, blown pupils. that was your boy… always eager to clean up after himself. especially if it meant he could put his tongue and lips to proper use.
“fuck. ride my face. wanna taste you. wanna make you come.” he groaned breathlessly, freed hands reaching down to grip at your thighs, tugging at them impatiently.
you chuckled at how eager he was, happily obliging. you climbed up, repositioning yourself to hover over his flushed face, caging his head between your thighs. his fingers pressed into your hips, pulling you down and into reach of his greedy tongue. you couldn’t help the sigh that slid from your lips at the first contact, eyes fluttering at the feeling of his tongue dragging hungrily through your come soaked folds.
“that’s right. eat your come, baby. lick it up.” you breathed out heavily, fingers weaving through his damp silver locks.
he moaned against you, the vibrations sending chills rolling down your spine. it was like white hot electricity in your veins when he rolled his flattened tongue cover your clit, a sharp moan erupting from your throat.
“fuck, just like that. right there.” you panted, hips grinding down against his skilled tongue. “you’re so fucking good with your mouth, yeol.” his determination spiked at the praise, lips encircling your clit and sucking purposefully.
pure euphoria rushed through your veins, head falling back as your grip on his hair tightened. his rapacious hands danced across your body, fingers pressing hotly into your skin, obviously not having learned his lesson the first time around. though, you weren’t too keen on correcting him. especially not with the fire his touch was igniting across your body.
your hips stuttered as his tongue pressed inside of you, lapping at you hungrily. “tastes… so good…” he groaned brokenly against your arousal, hooded eyes devouring the sight of you falling apart above him.
if there was one thing Park Chanyeol loved– it was being the cause of your pleasure.
snagging your lip roughly between your teeth, you meet his searing gaze, your walls clenching around his invading tongue at the almost unbearable intensity of it.
“you like it?” you moaned, feeling yourself begin to climb your way towards release. he nuzzled against you, nose pressing against your clit as his tongue teased your entrance.
god… if you didn’t know any better you’d say he was trying to suffocate himself. knowing Chanyeol, he’d probably consider it the perfect way to go. perhaps you would have laughed at the thought had it not been for the molten pleasure numbing your mind and senses.
“i’m gonna come.”
at your breathless declaration, Chanyeol is quickly replacing his tongue with two of his fingers, fucking them up into you steadily while his mouth gets to work on your clit. it feels so good… you’re numb to pretty much everything else but the feeling of him, the sight of him.
and you find it’s just that that finally sends you tumbling over that ledge: the sight of those beautiful brown eyes, dark and eager, burning with unspoken emotion, pooling with crimson seduction. he’s breathtaking.
you shift off of his face carefully, a hazy, satisfied smirk settling across your face.
“what a filthy boy.” you purr softly, more so to yourself than him, delighting in the sight of his face, glistening from a mixture of both his and your own release. his lips curl upwards at the corners, sinful tongue peeking out to drag over them and savor the lingering taste of you, a low hum of appreciation rumbling deep in his chest.
his hands don’t leave your hips as you carefully lift yourself off of him, offering some much needed support for your still shaky legs. you flop down on the mattress beside him with a soft ‘oof’ and shut your eyes, taking a moment to catch your breath and gather your scattered wits. a few moments of silence pass, before your brow twitched in irritation.
“stop staring before i smack you.” even with your eyes closed, you can feel the heat of his gaze on the side of your face.
he chuckled unabashedly, not all too torn up about being caught. “sorry. i can’t help myself,” he paused, “you’re just so beautiful like this.”
sighing, you roll your head to the side, eyes fluttering open to meet his. “what’d i say about calling me beautiful?”
he pouts, looking like a scolded puppy. “not to say it after sex.”
“that’s right.”
“but it’s the truth!”
“Chanyeol.” you groan, throwing an arm over your face.
he huffs in annoyance rolling onto his side and propping his head up on his palm. “what’s so wrong with me saying that you're beautiful?”
“you know exactly what’s wrong with it.” you grumble, shooting him a pointed glare, one he is quick to return. rolling your eyes, you turn away from him. “i’m too fucked out to try and argue with you right now so can you just drop it?”
one of his arms snakes over your waist, and you inhaled sharply in surprise as he tugged you into his chest.
“Chanyeol—”
he was quick to disregard your warning tone, nuzzling his face into your neck. “i like to cuddle.”
“you know—” you began, scowling as he cut you off a second time.
“i know what we agreed to but come on… a few minutes won’t kill you.” he grumbled, low voice raspy with exhaustion.
the slight tightening of his hold around you told you that he had no intention of letting go any time soon. your features twisted into a scowl, eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling.
but your resolve to remain unphased wavered.
because, for a moment, you let yourself feel the warmth of his body against yours, allowing yourself to melt into it. it was a strange sensation, the comfort it brought you… the security. perhaps it was the aftermath of your orgasm. or maybe the exhaustion from a stressful week. or maybe something else entirely… regardless, you found yourself relaxing into him, into his hold, into his warmth. it wasn’t something you could really control. and even if you could, you weren’t sure if you would do anything different.
minutes passed. maybe two. maybe five. maybe twenty. you weren’t really sure. you could hear the muffled music still pumping through the speakers somewhere downstairs. dull footsteps and low voices passing outside the door every now and again. the soft glow from the still candle flickered soothingly over the pale walls.
a strange sense of calm had settled over you at some point. you weren’t sure quite when. all you knew was that if you listened hard enough, you could almost hear the steady beating of Chanyeol’s heart. his breathing had become slow and heavy, warming the side of your face with every exhale.
“are you…” you swallowed, throat unexpectedly dry, “are you asleep?”
you were met with silence.
sucking your lips into your mouth, you slowly turned your head. your heart faltered in your chest. “geez.” you muttered softly, a faint smile touching your lips.
he was knocked out cold, cheek smooshed up against the pillow, lips parted and puckered out, hair cast across the white pillowcase, a few locks stuck on his eyelashes. you lifted your hand carefully, gently brushing the silver strands out of his face. your fingers lingered on his skin, caressing ever so lightly over his cheek and jaw.
“beautiful.”
it took you a moment to realize that that word had just come from your lips. you jerked away like you’d been stung, eyes wide, and heart suddenly racing.
shit.
you were so fucked.
#chanyeol#park chanyeol#exo chanyeol#chanyeol smut#chanyeol oneshot#chanyeol fanfic#chanyeol imagine#chanyeol scenario#chanyeol fluff#sub!chanyeol#sub!exo#sub!idol#dom!reader#exo smut#exo imagine#exo scenario#chanyeol angst#sub chanyeol#sub exo#perhaps i went a bit overboard... oops#i just love him lots
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