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etherealising · 10 months

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chapter one | a berzatto family christmas

masterlist | next chapter ↣

pairing(s): carmen berzatto x fem!reader : platonic!michael berzatto x fem!reader : platonic!richie jerimovich x fem!reader

summary: you reunite with carmy years later at the berzatto family christmas party.

warnings: language (cursing), blasphemy, angst (maybe?), spoilers kinda (if you haven't seen season 2 don't read), the berzatto family, not dialogue heavy, very subtle hints to mikey being suicidal, probably ooc!characters, idk what else but if you find something let me know please! not beta’d and minimal editing so sorry for any mistakes. i also wrote this overstimulated on caffeine so if it doesn’t make sense or it’s repetitive then we know why : )

semantics: no use of Y/N: reader goes by the nickname Baby it has a backstory and its literally so simple, if this bothers you idk what to tell you, sorry : (

wc: 4.7k

You were standing on the sidewalk, nerves filling your body as you hyped yourself up to take the few steps left to the porch and ring the doorbell. You shouldn’t have been so nervous, you knew that but your mind was spinning with the myriad of scenarios both good and bad; that could play out once you stepped foot past the threshold. In all honesty, it wasn’t so much that you were nervous to enter the house itself, it was the fact that you’d be face to face with your childhood best friend for the first time in you didn’t even know how long. Maybe childhood best friend was a stretch you had only been introduced into each other's lives due to circumstance, and because of that forced proximity, you both took comfort in having someone stable around.

The two of you weren’t friends because you had chosen each other, or because you had met in kindergarten and shared toys in the sandbox because the other kids were stingy. No, you met because as a single mom, your mother needed all the shifts she could get even if that meant working the graveyard shift at the hospital, and only seeing you a handful of hours throughout the day because most times she was too dead on her feet to be conscious for more than a few hours. And when she could no longer pay the babysitter her next best option was the eccentric woman across the street who had children close in age with you.

Enter Donna Berzatto, a woman who came to feel like a second mom to you. It's not that she replaced your mom, no one could ever replace her, but she was the only real mother figure you knew for a time in your life. Who took you in as her own when your mother needed a new babysitter, and not just you but integrated your mom into the family as well, when she was spared the time off from nursing. Donna Berzatto who never sent you home empty-handed, and always made enough food for you and your mom to last throughout the week, just so your mother wouldn’t have to worry about fitting grocery shopping into her already hectic schedule. Donna Berzatto who, even when you were old enough to no longer need a babysitter, would send Carmy across the street to fetch you for family dinner, or even just invite you over because she thought you needed company.

Now that you were thinking about it, it seemed like you were more friends with his mom than you ever were with Carmen Berzatto. But then that would be a lie wouldn’t it?

You and Carmen Berzatto were friends due to circumstance, maybe even best friends. You weren’t just friends at his house, but you were school friends, you were everywhere friends. He really was your only true friend, of course, you had school friends, but that’s just what they were. You saw them Monday through Friday for a mandatory education, never an hour before school started or a minute after the final bell. Which didn’t necessarily bother you, but sometimes you longed for a weekend invitation to hang out, not that it ever came. And it wasn’t like you were shunned or unpopular in school, you were just average, you didn’t see a point in making friends with people you weren’t actually interested in befriending.

That’s what made Carmy so different, yes maybe you were only introduced due to circumstances but that didn’t stop the two of you from latching onto each other for dear life. Your mom always wondered how you two even established the friendship you did, with both of you being shy and never feeling the need to go out of your way to make friends. Include the fact that you had been neighbors practically your whole lives and never once taken an interest in each other aside from shy waves and curious childlike staring when either of you would be outside.

Your relationship with Carmen progressed as any childlike relationship would, you befriended each other, had your incessant petty arguments and fights, nothing ever serious enough to actually cause damage just childish antics. And it continued to progress through middle school and high school, the two of you were each other’s person, you just understood each other, the two of you let the other understand you, and wanted to be understood by each other.

You could also recall what you explain as a minute change in your friendship. As Senior year approached and you and Carmy continued to grow into yourselves, you developed a slight crush on the boy you had grown up with. It obviously wasn’t as small as you thought it was if you were standing in front of his childhood home giving yourself a pep talk just to ring the damn doorbell though was it?

The unsolicited card and wrapped present weighed heavy in your tote bag, as your breath was made visible by the chilly Chicago weather.

It was Christmas and for all intents and purposes you had been planning on mailing the present to Carmen’s New York address, but after visiting The Beef on your way back into town Mikey and Richie had let it slip that indeed the infamous Berzatto sibling would be gracing everyone with his presence this holiday season.

It was moments like these you wished you had picked up on the Berzatto family’s horrible smoking habit, thankfully your mom had taught you just how vital having functioning lungs was.

Your head shot up as the sound of loud rambunctious voices drew your attention to the front door opening and closing revealing a face you were all too familiar with and actually relieved to see. The oldest Berzatto brother stood on the porch, hands on his hips as he gave you a goofy smile. You could feel your lips stretching into a smile of your own, the infectious aura that Michael Berzatto exuded doing wonders to calm your racing mind.

“I know you didn’t come all this way just to stand outside staring at my family home like a fucking weirdo Baby.” Mikey’s smile grew in size as he teased you.

You rolled your eyes at the childhood nickname you wish hadn’t stuck as Mikey opened his arms to wrap you in one of his signature hugs. The two of you stood on the porch embracing each other for what felt like hours, you needed this hug as much as he needed it, you knew it and Mikey did too. That was the thing about you and Mikey although not blood-related it was as if your souls knew each other in a past life. Of the Berzatto siblings, Mikey was the last sibling you developed a relationship with. Growing up he was always just Carmy’s older brother but as you grew up surrounded by him, he became your surrogate older brother as well. And when Carmy dashed off to pursue his culinary dreams in New York, you and Mikey grew even closer.

You stepped back from the embrace, your eyes finding Mikey’s as he looked at you with a knowing glint in his eyes. “You not standing out here cause of a certain Chef in that house are ya?” Mikey asked, smirking down at you.

You chuckled “The only reason I come around anymore is for Mama Donna.” You joked doing a poor job to convince Mikey.

He nodded, tossing his head back with a laugh, “You were always a shit liar Baby. Carmy’s an idiot, don't let him ruin your Christmas.”

You let out a sigh head resting against Mikey’s chest as you tried to let his words soothe you even more, “He’s not ruining it, you just know things have been kind of stilted between us, and I don’t know this whole situation just feels awkward.”

You raised your head to look at Mikey again, “It’s awkward right? Am I making things awkward? I don’t wanna ruin Christmas Mikey, I know how your mom is and I know how Carmy is, I don’t wanna ambush him.”

The worry in your voice was evident as Mikey stood there listening to your ranting. His hand reached out as he used his thumb to massage away the frown between your eyebrows. “Calm down Baby, you know Ma is expecting you, and she wouldn’t take it well if you missed Christmas. She looks forward to seeing you every year, you give her a piece of Carmy when he can’t be fucking asked to come home and visit.” His hand moved down to cup the side of your neck rubbing soothing circles where his thumb rested, “Do it for Ma okay? Let Carmy be fucking wonder boy Carmy a’ight.”

You laughed nodding your head as best as you could with Mikey’s hand holding it, he smiled giving you one last hug before dropping his hand to grab your wrist and tug you into the house. You stopped him by placing a hand on his arm that was connected to yours.

“Hold on Mikey, I got you something.” You moved to start rummaging through your tote bag stalling because you were too nervous for his reaction to the present.

“Awe you didn’t have to get me nothing.” You turned back to him with the present in your hands as he held his own hands over his heart mockingly. You knew Mikey didn’t do well when it came to sentimental things and the best you would get out of him was a joke as opposed to anything else.

You laughed holding the rectangular wrapped present out to him, “I wanted to Mikey, don’t think of this as a gift, think of it uhh…as a show of appreciation yeah?” You nodded feeling your face heat up as you dropped your head so he couldn’t see how unsure you were about the gift.

He smiled, finding your shyness endearing before tearing into the neatly wrapped paper and revealing a frame, his hands engulfing it from end to end. He smiled looking at it before you saw confusion etch across his face, “This is great Baby, yeah but uh what the fuck am I looking at?”

You shove his shoulder before laughing at him and grabbing the frame out of his hands but holding it in front of your chest so he could still see its contents, “It's a trademark certification you dumbass, can’t you fucking read Mikey.” You joked to try and underestimate how big of a gift this was.

Mikey’s brows furrowed before he snatched the frame out of your hands to get a better look at the certificate sitting behind the glass, eyes snapping back up to your face with a look you couldn’t read. You shuffled your feet feeling like you overstepped a boundary you didn’t even know was between you and Mikey, “Don’t worry though I-I, put it in your name, it’s not like I trademarked it for myself or anything. I just know how much this means to you and I, I know shit has been tough lately and I’m sorry if you feel like I stepped on your toes but…Mikey, you deserve good things too okay?” You hadn’t meant to go on a rant, but you could feel the apprehension leaving you as you became passionate in every word you spoke.

“You deserve to be fucking happy Mikey, and I, I want you to know I fucking believe in you and I’m always in your corner. If it's-” You were cut off by Mikey clearing his throat, causing your eyes to snap back up to his, all the emotions he didn’t know how to translate into words swirling in his brown eyes, a small smile resting on his lips.

“Mikey-,” Before you could get another word out you were once again trapped in his comforting embrace, this hug conveying something completely different from the earlier one you shared. Mikey’s head tucked into your neck as you felt his uneasy breathing through your hands clutched around him. Mikey wasn’t the type to get emotional in front of other people, and feeling a tear of his smear against your cheek as he raised his head from your neck and settled his bearded cheek against yours, you weren’t sure if you had done the right thing by giving him the gift or not.

The two of you stood in silence as you allowed Mikey his moment, not wanting to make him feel insecure about you being present while he was being emotional. When he finally pulled away you could see the leftover sheen in his eyes. He tucked the framed certificate under his arm as both his hands reached up to grab your face in both of his hands, eyes finding yours, a whispered “thank you, baby,” leaving his lips as he placed a kiss on your forehead before he grabbed the frame again and wrapped you in another hug.

His head rested atop yours as your face rested against his chest, ear pressed against his beating heart. You lied, you thought the last hug was different, but no it was this hug that was different, while the second hug you shared in the span of 20 minutes was a hug of love and gratitude. This hug felt heavier, like there were things Mikey wanted to tell you but couldn’t, things he only felt he could convey through a hug, things you weren’t sure if you wanted to question or not.

It had been almost 20 minutes since Michael had escaped the house to do whatever the fuck it was he was doing outside. Carmy didn’t know and in all honesty he didn’t actually give a shit either, too busy helping Donna out in the kitchen to try to give any thoughts to whatever had grabbed Mikey’s attention.

He was focused in the corner of the kitchen making Tiff Sprite to help alleviate her nausea symptoms. Anyone else would have done their best to block out the rambunctious noises going on throughout the house, not Carmy though, the chaos fueled him, it grounded him. If the house was quiet it would have been too much for him, to be alone with his own thoughts ping-ponging around in his head, waiting for a chance to drown him. So if he had to listen to his mom list a plethora of things he needed to make sure happened for Christmas dinner to go off without a hitch while he was making Sprite from scratch, he welcomed it.

He finished his concoction just in time for Richie to walk through the kitchen, the older man trying to figure out how the fuck it was even possible to make Sprite from scratch. Gratefully taking the glass Carmy had offered to him, marveling at the carbonated drink in his hand.

Carmy nodded in his direction, “Yo Cousin, where the fuck is Mikey. He just fucking disappeared.” Carmy’s head swiveled around the kitchen double checking whether his brother was there or not, coming up empty in his search. Richie glanced up before settling his eyes back on the drink in his hand still doing the mental math to wrap his head around what the fuck Carmy just made.

Richie jutted his head in the direction of the front door, “Outside talking to Baby.” His eyes finally focused on Carmy’s in time to see the frown grace the younger man’s face, his eyebrows pinching together in agitation, annoyed that his brother was on a phone call rather than inside. Though that’s what Carmy told himself subconsciously he knew he was just annoyed at the fact that Mikey was even talking to you at all. Carmy didn’t think he was possessive but as you and Mikey grew closer through the years, he couldn’t help but feel miffed about the ever growing friendship between the two of you. You and your friendship with Carmy was the first thing in his life that he felt like was actually his and his alone.

It’s funny really for Carmy to think he has any sort of claim over you, or like the two of you were even really friends anymore. When he left Chicago to pursue his culinary dreams, he left you behind to, essentially ghosting the one real friend he did have. It’s not like he meant to, you two just went your separate ways after graduation, and he wasn’t even sure if there even was an “Us” when it came to the two of you anymore. If that was the case the only person he had to blame was himself, it was no fault of yours that your friendship had hit a plateau, Carmy hadn’t responded to a text of yours in years, and the fact that you still texted him to this day caused a slight pain in his chest as he stood in the middle of his mother’s kitchen, frown still etched into his features.

“He’s outside on the phone with Baby?” Carmy questioned the ache in his chest doing nothing to alleviate his irritation. It was Richie’s turn to frown reciprocating the same confused look Camry wore.

“What - No dickhead, he’s talking to Baby, like she’s right in fucking front of him and shit.” Richie swatted the side of Carmy’s head like a child. “Your moms invites her to every holiday, Cousin, and she comes every time.” Richie knew the last bit wasn’t necessary but felt Carmy rightfully deserved it, all anyone wanted from the youngest Berzatto was a visit.

“Dudes been out there for fucking ever though, those to idiots just standing outside like a bunch of fucking jackoffs.” Richie left the kitchen not waiting for Carmy to follow him before heading to the front door. He stopped moving the curtain on one of the side windows to spot two of the people he considered family. He let out a low whistle nudging Carmy’s shoulder who had finally joined his side nodding his head to the window.

“Get a load of these fucking losers hugging on the porch like they’re in some fucking Hallmark movie or some shit.” Richie laughed pointing at you and Mikey through the window. Carmy leaned closer to get a peak at what Richie was going on about.

Carmy hated to admit it, but Richie was right, the too of you looked like the happy couple who just saved a small town’s Christmas or whatever the fuck Hallmark movies were about. Mikey had finally separated himself from you long enough for Carmy to take in your features. He’d be lying if he said the years apart made him forget what you looked like. You were still the same girl he left in Chicago all those years ago except the wand of maturity had touched you, and in his opinion he thought you looked more beautiful than you had in high school.

Carmy was never one to pay too much attention to a woman’s features, and not because he didn’t care, it's just that he didn’t think it mattered. But as he drank in your form he learned in that exact moment why a woman might want people to notice the small things. Like the haircut you were sporting that Carmy felt shaped your face well, not that he knew shit about stuff like that, but he could appreciate art when he saw it. The outfit you picked out doing wonders to compliment your tall form and accentuate your legs. Carmy could look at you all day, scratch that he wanted to look at you all day.

He was torn from his reverie as Richie narrated the scene happening in front of them, “Aw look at these fuckers lookin all in love an shit.” He joked watching as Mikey slung his arm around you and led you towards the door, what looked to be a frame held in his other hand. The two of you walked side by side, your arm wrapped around his torso, hugging him into your side, Mikey’s head leaning slightly down to whisper something in your ear a small smile gracing your face as Mikey pressed his lips onto your temple lingering there for what Carmen swore was forever.

The tightness in his chest intensified tenfold as the realization of just how close you and Mikey had become sank into him. He didn’t know how to feel, his brain not even allowing any emotions to process, saving himself from any conclusions he might come to from a split second interaction.

Carmy left, he chose his path, he knew this, and he had no regrets he would pursue his dream every time the opportunity was presented. He just wished that, maybe if he held onto you as tightly as you still held onto him, it would’ve been him greeting you on the sidewalk on Christmas Day, being the sole object of your attention holding you close to his longing body. He knew overall the decisions he made regarding you were wrong, while he ignored your daily text and calls enough times for you to just resort to monthly check ins asking him about his endeavors and congratulations as you heard about his achievements in the culinary industry, he knew deep down that Mikey answered every text and call you sent his way, made it his mission to connect with you anytime you were back in Chicago.

Carmy couldn’t admit it to himself but deep down he knew his family saw spending time with you as a way to stay connected to him. You were the closest thing any of them still had to Carmy, and even though he had essentially cut you off from his life, his family loved you too much to allow Carmy’s shortcomings to affect their relationship with you.

He was broken from the recesses of his mind as Richie threw the door open stepping over the threshold raising his hands in the air to welcome you and Mikey into the house. The glass of Sprite still clutched in his left hand, a broad smile spread across his face as you left Mikey’s hold to greet Richie eyes not having spotted Carmy who was hidden behind Richie’s small frame.

Carmy’s first up close look at you in years were your hands wrapped around Richie’s torso as he pulled you into a hug, rocking the two of you back and forth, Richie let you go quickly turning his body back into the house “A’ight fuckers you can all stop pretending you care so much about Carmy and his little rat in the chef hat bullshit. We got the real deal here now, Baby's gracing us with her journalist presence.”

Carmy’s brows furrowed at Richie’s dig only slightly offended about being compared to a fictional character named after pasta, too caught up in allowing the sound of your laugh to grace his ears for the first time in what felt like forever. Mikey had finally caught up to you standing behind you with a hand placed on your shoulder, Carmy watched as his brother’s hand glided up and down your arm before giving your bicep a slight squeeze and nodding his head in Carmy’s direction.

If Carmy was being honest it was becoming increasingly difficult to quiet his mind that was eagerly trying to piece everything together. From yours and Mikey's prolonged moment on the porch, to the kiss he placed on your temple, add in Richie’s jokes and the almost constant physical contact between you and Mikey and Carmy was sure he figured shit out.

You looked to where Mikey motioned his head finally noticing Carmy’s figure standing there while Richie ran off towards the stairs after his impromptu introduction. Looking at Carmy was like being in a Time Machine, nothing had drastically changed, he looked more exhausted than what you remembered. But overall he was the same Carmy you parted ways with all those years ago.

A small smile graced your lips as you took him in, he was still your Carmy appearance wise, and right now for you that was all that mattered. You lifted your hand in a small wave gaining his attention, your smile growing wider as your eyes locked with his.

The clearing of a throat broke you from your thoughts, Mikey’s hand giving your shoulder a squeeze as he walked you two into the house before shutting the door behind him. As he finished he stood in front of you so that Carmy was partially covered from view by each brother in your line of vision though your focus was taken up by the eldest. He gave you a reassuring smile before gently knocking his fist against your chin and presumably turning to leave you and Carmy alone.

As Mikey walked past Carmy he gave him his signature grin and a wink before patting his shoulder as left to check on Donna in the kitchen and mingle with the other guests.

Carmy’s face was still set in the same frown it had been in when he first asked Richie where Mikey ran off to. You took a deep breath to settle your nerves before taking a step to close the gap between you, your hand reached out to gently squeeze Carmy’s arm though stopping in midair as you watched him subtly flinch. Your smile faltered, your hand finding its rightful place at your side. You looked up to see the apology in Carmy’s eyes, you did your best to brush the moment off, maybe you came on too strong, maybe it wasn’t fair that you were still pushing for a friendship when Carmy had given you all the reasons to stop trying, maybe the Carmy in front of you was a different Carmy to the one you used to know. Maybe the life where it was you and Carmy had finally taken its last breath and you were just too clingy and desperate to realize.

You cleared your throat trying to alleviate the lump forming from the thoughts that were racing through your brain. The small placating smile on your face there to stop you from having a full breakdown in the Berzatto’s foyer. “Its good to see you Carmen, I hope New York is treating you well.” You lips wrapped around the generic greeting forcing yourself not to say anything you might regret.

Carmy nodded his head rapidly accepting your lackluster words, his lips parting and closing all in the same breath. The man obviously had nothing to say to you, and maybe you just had to accept that. You stayed a moment longer cursing yourself for doing so as the air between you two filled with palpable tension.

“Baby, is that you? My goodness you look fucking gorgeous.” Half of Donna’s body had popped out of the kitchen finally gaining a spare moment to greet you. Her words mumbled through the cigarette between her lips, a ladle held in her right hand while the left was occupied by tongs. Her apron covered in all sorts of sauces and whatever the hell else your brain couldn’t even begin to discern.

You laughed half in amusement and half in relief, you weren’t sure how much longer you could stand there as Carmy burned holes in your body. You waved at Donna quickly, beginning to head towards her to join her in the kitchen. It wasn’t your first choice as an escape from Carmen but you’d rather try and help Donna finish preparing Christmas dinner than be around Carmy for another minute.

Donna waved the tongs in Carmy’s direction, “Jesus fucking Christ Carmen, take the girls bag and coat. Don’t just fuckin stand there.” She huffed eyes glaring the longer Carmen stayed glued to the spot. You handed him your tote as soon as his arm shot out and began hastily shimmying out of your jacket. You gave him a soft smile before laying the jacket on his awaiting arm.

You began to leave the foyer as Donna motioned for you to follow her, mentally preparing yourself for what you were about to walk into. A sudden thought occurred causing you to gently grip Carmy’s bicep as you were walking past him, “I uh, I actually bought you a Christmas present. So um, find me later yeah?” You smiled tilting your head slightly in questioning.

Carmen Berzatto graced you with a small smile, nodding back in agreement as you sent him one final nod and turned to enter the kitchen. The first positive emotion he granted you since you walked back into his life 30 minutes ago.

next chapter ↣

a/n: this is my first fic that i’m publishing and i genuinely have no clue what the fuck any of this is, : ) but nonetheless hope you all enjoy! or don’t i’m just a stranger on the internet. constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated though. please like, comment, reblog if this behemoth tickles your fancy!

also i write for fun/hobby and i'm such an inconsistent bitch so don't get your hopes too high, but this will potentially be a series idk yet though lol.

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #the bear fic #michael berzatto #richie jerimovich #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto angst #platonic!michael berzatto #all i ever knew only you ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊#[aiekoy] 1

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3terna15unshin3 · 8 months

Text

Touch

Who will be the first to break?

2704 words

warnings: !! 18+ !! smut, mutual masturbation, unprotected sex, very minimal editing (sorry)

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a/n: Not requested but last time i posted smut y’all really liked it lmfao😭😭 I also felt sufficiently inspired to write a mutual masturbation tbsg blurb bc of tdab pt 2 by the iconic @lottiecrabie and also this fic that i love by @wrongendofurcigarette <33333 thank u for the inspo besties ok anyway hope u enjoy love u bye xo

(I wrote an entire 15 chapter fic of this universe! Read it here)

—

Matty was supposed to touch down on the tarmac around half nine. But as a symbol of his amazing luck, weather delays held him back and Este sat at home, impatiently waiting and jittering with anticipation. It was almost eleven in the evening and he still hadn’t arrived.

The months he’d been gone inched slowly by, and she only felt herself missing him more the closer his return date approached. Este started to feel like the floors of their home were colder in his absence. Like the lights were either too dim that she had to squint or too bright that it made her head throb. But sulking about it didn’t help—so she busied herself to make time go by faster.

She went on runs with Keiko. Wrote her weekly pieces twice as fast. Read double the amount of novels. Dipped her right hand into her knickers and thought about Matty. Sometimes alone, and sometimes with his virtual company; always hearing him whine about how much better Este felt around him in comparison to his fist.

There was usually food ready to satisfy his hungry post-flight state, but because of the late hour, he insisted that Este shouldn’t bother. He didn’t want to waste time eating. If I get hungry then I’ll just eat her, thought Matty during his Uber home.

She was on the brink of falling asleep when Matty sent her a message to let her know that he would pull up at any second. Her body sprung up and ran to wait in the doorway before she could even process the words. There were butterflies pounding at her chest purely at the way the approaching headlights hit the pavement. She leaned on the doorframe and attempted to appear cool and collected. Then, an idea came to mind.

He pretty much tackled Este into an embrace when he finally walked up. They waddled into the house and breathed in each other’s scents. “Hi baby,” Matty whispered, pulling his face away to bring her lips to his.

But, only millimetres before they could graze, Este inched away. She had on a mischievous smirk instead, letting Matty feel her hot breath on his skin as she exhaled.

Worry grew in his mind. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing at all, love,” Este shook her head, backing away even more to grab the bags his hands gripped to bring them to their bedroom. A smirk still sat on her lips as he cluelessly followed behind her confident steps. “I was just thinking about how long it’s been since you’ve touched me.”

His throat immediately dried up as he caught on to what she was doing. Este knew they were both desperate for one thing—but wanted him to prove how bad he wanted it.

“Yeah, fuck. It’s been ages. So let me,” Matty begged, reaching to caress her jaw. She was quick to dodge.

“But don’t you ever wonder how long we can make it? Before we break?”

Este’s hips swayed back and forth purposefully as she took the claw clip that sat on her bedside table. In a few swift manoeuvres, she threw her dark hair up and secured it there. He watched her hands work meticulously and adored the way the shorter wavy pieces fell out of the clip and dangled next to her face. What he didn’t adore was that he could now see so much of her neck, and that she surely wouldn’t let him kiss it.

“What are you doing?” He asked gingerly.

It was a rhetorical question. You know exactly what I’m doing, thought Este.

“Posing a question, ‘s all.” She answered, walking back around the bed to exit their room and head to the kitchen. Matty followed, of course.

Their feet padded down the stairs. “Don’t do this to me, E. Please,” he finally vocalised.

It took everything in her to leave him hanging for the couple of seconds it took to fetch the bottle of red she’d been saving. She uncorked it and took a swig, repressing the want (more like need) to pounce onto him like a cat.

“First one to touch loses.”

"Fine. Game on."

—

They brought the bottle of wine over to the sofa and took turns sipping it. To not be as tempted, they even sat on opposite ends. Out of reach.

It wasn’t until then that Matty realised she was wearing a pair of his boxers as shorts. She had to roll over the waistband a couple of times to stop them from falling off her hips, but they still fit loosely. The way Este was scrunched up—clearly trying to make herself comfortable within the couch cushions—made the boxers tug lower. Matty peered at the skin low on her hips and made the assumption that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. God. If he yanked them down her thighs there would be nothing between him and her cunt.

He adjusted his pants, growing hard at the thought. Not a great way to play if he wanted to win.

Este was just as hot and bothered as him, but was just a bit better at hiding it. She stared at his hand that gripped the remote, flicking through the options on Netflix mindlessly (though he couldn’t care less about what was on the telly). The veins on the back of his hand flexed, and Este’s eyes watched. She then trailed them upwards on his arm and took note of how sculpted they were. Had they always been that big? she thought. Bloody hell.

As if on perfect cue, Matty scooched himself lower, now almost fully on his back to relax. He threw an arm up and behind his head, hand cradling the back of his neck. The action flicked the bottom hem of his t-shirt upwards, forcing the ink on his skin to be exposed to the air. His hips rose and wiggled back and forth before he sealed the comfy action with a quick yawn. Of course he chose to do it while he saw Este’s head turned to him instead of the television, feeling the burn of her gaze. Any other day, she’d be on his lap in seconds.

Her breathing quickened. It was a bit embarrassing that something so simple could drive her insane—so she briefly used her hands to cover her reddening face. Holding out as a strategy clearly wasn’t going well. So, Este thought of what might speed things up.

“Gonna go for a wee. You know what wine does to me,” she suddenly announced, getting up and running to the toilet. Sure, she really did have to go. But once she finished, she decided to leave the boxers on the bathroom floor instead of pulling them back on.

Walking back into Matty’s line of sight, now only clothed with a black baby tee that hugged her torso and nothing on her bottom half, Este stopped in front of him to bend down and grab the bottle of wine that sat on the coffee table. She turned around to face him and locked her eyes with his as she took a swig.

His mouth fell open for the few seconds he maintained the eye contact, but soon let his focus fall down her body, ultimately stopping at her bare pussy. He watched the space below her belly button expand and contract as she slowly breathed in and out. He even saw her thighs clench together. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, he thought. This is torture.

“My eyes are up here,” commented Este playfully, breaking the trance he was clearly stuck in, and then returning to her corner of the sofa.

“Fuck off,” Matty confidently responded with a scoff, though she could tell from the small smile of defeat on his face that she’d caught him off guard. “Didn’t have the balls to leave the shirt behind too, huh? Only my boxers?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Oh, do you want it gone? In that case—”

Matty then watched the small black article of clothing hit the floor, leaving Este completely nude & no more than a metre out of his reach. The same Este he hadn’t touched in nine weeks.

A smug look stared back at him as he thought of ways to one-up her. He couldn’t just copy and strip, like her. It had to be something more. So, he reached into his pants—still looking at her in the eye—pulling his cock out. Why beat around the bush? It was already red and hard, begging to be touched. And since he couldn’t touch her, he touched himself instead.

Este refused to look away. She couldn’t. Her brown eyes were locked onto his fist that tugged slowly up and down his length. Subconsciously, she swiped her bottom lip with her tongue.

“Look at you, licking your lips. Wishing it was your mouth,” taunted Matty, “You don’t even want me to touch you. You want to touch me, baby. You love it when I fuck your face.”

He watched her writhe and sigh in dissatisfaction, seeing that Este knew he was right. Her hand inched down to her throbbing and exposed clit, finally daring to apply some pressure and whining in relief.

“You’ve got quite the ego on yourself, Healy,” she squeaked, trying not to moan at her fingers circling her clit with haste. “You’ll be begging to cum in my mouth. Touch me first and maybe I’ll let you.”

Matty’s hips bucked upwards as he matched the speed of his pumps to that of Este’s hand against herself. “Fuck, you’re killing me,” he moaned, closing his eyes in pleasure and fantasy.

Waiting until she saw his stare reconnect with hers, Este teased her fingertips south to her entrance. It was slick with wetness and desperate to be filled. Siding two fingers in, her jaw dropped open, and her hips rocked upwards to feel them deeper. A gasp escaped her lips. She let out a shaky groan when they bottomed out and yearned for them to be Matty’s instead.

“Mine don’t fill me up the way yours do.”

The sounds of both her fingers moving in and out of her cunt and him fucking his fist radiated throughout the room, overtaking whatever Netflix show Matty settled on. Both moving in sync.

“Come over here and sit on me, then. I can fuck you better than that,” he coerced.

Watching through his half-shut eyelids, he thought, I bet her wrist is tired. She’ll give in soon. But by then it was less of a thought and more of a prayer.

“But that would mean you’d win,” Este pointed out the obvious. “And I can’t let that happen.”

He rolled his eyes. “Turn to me, E. I need to see more of you,” commanded Matty.

She listened and pivoted, spreading her thighs even further. She arched her back off of the sofa when her fingers grazed a certain spot, making her hold back what she knew would have been Matty’s name slipping past her lips. Her thumb rubbed furiously at her clit simultaneously. Surely he’ll touch me if I come, considered Este, chasing her high.

His lip was pinned between his teeth as he continued watching her. Her sopping pussy was in full view, making Matty think of what it felt like around him. The way she’d clench her walls just before he was about to cum and how it would always get him there faster. How easily he could make that familiar sensation a reality if he’d just give in.

Studying Este’s chest, where her other hand sat and fiddled with her hard nipples, Matty saw how quickly it heaved up and down. Her breaths were laboured. A layer of sweat glistened on her forehead and her gaze struggled to pin onto him. She’s close, he discovered.

“You’re almost there, darling. I know that arm of yours is tired. I’d have you cumming in seconds if you just come over and let me win,” he whispered desperately.

Este moaned at his words, speeding up her fingers. “So are you,” she pointed out, “and if you cum in your—fuck, Matty—if you cum in your hand, you won’t get to cum inside me.”

She made a good point. He sped up to match her, thrusting his hips up to meet his hand faster.

“Then come here and sit on me,” whined Matty, still not giving in, frustrating Este. Resentment for her silly game grew. If he wouldn’t let her win now, she had to do more. The visual wasn’t enough. She had to beg for it. Literally.

“Please, baby! I feel so fucking empty. I need you to fuck me now. Riding you won’t be enough. I need you to come over here and hold me down and fuck me—shit! Rail me so hard that we forget our own names. Need to feel you deeper than I ever have. Do whatever you want to me, please, Matty. I’ll do anything—”

Her voice pushed him over the edge. He didn't care about the stupid game anymore.

He wasn’t sure if he’d ever moved so fast in his life; climbing over to Este’s side of the sofa. She gasped when she felt Matty’s hands grip her hips to pull her closer, not giving her any time to adjust before sinking himself into her cunt.

They groaned in unison, the feeling they were chasing hit them even harder after the painstaking period of forbidden touch. She felt every inch of him against her walls, pressing a hand into her lower stomach to feel him there too.

“Is this what you wanted?” he intensely spat at her, beginning to pound into her with no avail.

Matty’s hips slammed together with hers over and over, lighting the fire in Este’s core. Her mind went hazy with pleasure and she struggled to even answer him. Her jaw was stuck agape and the only things he could hear out of her were frenzied and pornographic moans.

“Yes, fuck, yes. Don’t stop, I’m gonna cum,” she cried.

He squeezed his eyes tightly shut as he felt his climax approach too. But he couldn’t keep them shut for long, as he craved the sight of her beneath him, still tirelessly swiping at her clit. Her breasts bounced up and down at the force of Matty’s hips, which now buckled with a messy rhythm. The hair that stuck to her wet forehead was swiped away by a finger of his, getting it out of the way, needing the full view of Este’s face.

“Cum for me, E. I thought about this every night when I was gone. Couldn’t hold back any longer—fuck—you win. This pussy is mine. So perfect for me,” Matty egged.

Este let go and the notorious clench of her walls pushed him to do the same. The warmth deep inside her signalled that Matty had shot his hot seed into her, groaning and worshipping her name as he did. She reached up to yank on his curls and saw stars for a moment, the pure euphoria carrying her high in pleasure like she’d never seen before. He gave her exactly what she’d been needing, those nights alone. Nobody could fuck her like him.

Her stomach immediately felt like jello in the aftershock of her orgasm. They both panted into each other's mouths, slick with sweat, giddy smiles on their faces. Matty’s arms gave out, laying on top of her gently, still twitching inside of her. He didn’t have an ounce of extra energy to pull out. Not that he really wanted to, anyway.

“What’s my prize?” Este asked, throat rough from the screaming she’d just done.

Matty glanced at the TV, where the time was displayed. 00:28. They hadn’t even lasted half an hour at her ‘game’.

“I reckon I can make you cum three more times before we fall asleep?” he suggested.

“Deal,” she agreed, “Or you can fuck my face like you mentioned. Up to you,” finished Este with a giggle.

His eyes widened in shock, hiding his face in her neck as they both laughed.

“Might need a bit of time to, you know, recharge before we get to that. But I am not passing up on that offer.”

#tbsg #meste blurb #the 1975 #matty healy #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy x oc #the 1975 fanfiction #matty healy fic #smut #matty healy smut #blurb

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pancakesandanxiety · 4 months

Text

wrote this at 4 in the morning and thought it would be cool to share it. enjoy !! (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

ps. minimal editing. was rushing, sorry.

read at your own risk: teens doing the deed

trigger warning !! unprotected sex, soft femdom, breeding if you squint, creampie, overstimulation, praise kink

"eun tae ... oh, eun tae, yes - !!" (name) drawls on her boyfriend's name as her back is plown from behind. a ragged groan on her ear causes her to flinch.

"so, mmh, tight ... " eun tae continues to ram his cock into her dripping hole without so much a thought, the tip continuously kissing her cervix and bringing out those delicious sounds he loved to hear from his girl shaking against his hips. they have been at it since his patience thinned due to that stupidly short skirt hugging (name)'s thighs whilst they were out on a spontaneous date. and of course, said girl of his was well aware of the effect she had on him, even purposely wearing his favorite lace bra underneath one of her more transparent blouses. it was difficult to hide his hard on the more he noticed the tips of her mounds oddly perked up. plus, that low buzzing he had been hearing from underneath her skirt. he tried so hard to pass it off as his imagination because he barely had a few hours of sleep night but was relieved to pull a vibrator from his girlfriend's stimulated pussy. a privilege, really, he nearly came at the sight.

his grip on her hips tighten when the memory of minutes ago strikes him again, one particularly hard thrust pushing (name) further into the mattress.

"fuck- you're still t-thinking about it, yeah?" her last word lilts, as if it wasn't the first time eun tae had reacted like this. "you like it when I play with myself at--hahh--the thought of you, huh? oh you n-naughty boy." despite the obvious wobble in her voice, she pushes his buttons just as easily even when she is not beneath him. the nickname pulls a low growl from the back of eun tae's throat, loving how she easily breaks him apart like this, his pace growing rabid.

his hands seek refuge to lock with (name)'s, pinning her in place as he chases both their orgasms. the action causes her walls to squeeze around his shaft and eun tae's knees buckle. he had found out that she specially liked it when they held hands during sex, it didn't matter what position they were in, it was the intimacy that puts (name) in a chokehold. and so would his cock the further her insides suck him in.

"g'nna cum, fuuuuck, g'nna inside, gah- please please pleaseeeee." at this point, even eun tae could barely be coherent. he didn't know what to say, he just really wanted for (name) to milk him dry and plant that damn seed he always dreamed to do. as if he hadn't been doing that for the past rounds, a ring of white already in form at the base of his length, a mix of both their spend after the first time she enveloped him with her warmth. (name) whines pathetically at the feeling of their juices dripping from her trembling thighs and into the damp sheets. even in bed, eun tae's stamina is endless but what better way to match that with a girlfriend whose libido nearly exceeds it?

hearing no response from her, his lips find refuge on the sensitive skin below her ear, snapping (name) out of her cock-riddled daze to muster one. "fill me, yeah? nice and deep for me? want it to overflo-"

her orgasm cuts her short when a finger carelessly rubs her clit, too stupeified to realize a rough hand had snuck down to the apex of their lovemaking. a loud moan bursts from her lips and (name) thinks she's never cum so hard in her life. eun tae is not too far behind as he gives one last thrust into her gummy walls before spurting strings of hot semen far into her womb, a moan of his own riding out both of their highs. when he's all emptied, he falls to the side, his softening cock still devastatingly buried inside. he pulls his satisfied girlfriend closer in a tight hug from behind, his face at home at the sweaty crook of her neck. both catch their breath after what seemed like hours of nearly breaking the bed. fortunately, (name)'s was made out of good material and reinforced for times like these.

a hand caresses eun tae's arm around her waist, the other reached behind to pet his head.

"you were amazing, darling. so so good for me." the praise falls into his now half hardening cock and (name) has to lightly slap him to snap out of it. eun tae whines.

"you call me those names and expect me not to pounce. you foul woman." he rolls his hips in protest but regrets it when the overstimulation melts into his body. (name) hisses in pain. immediately, he stops, instantly realizing his mistake. it's enough to convince him to save it for another day.

or later when they get ample respite. and lots of begging.

#vasco x reader #lee eun tae x reader #vasco smut #dirty smut but not rlly imo #hc vasco has praise kink #coz i said so #lookism #lookism smut

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missmaywemeetagain · 11 months

Text

Sergeant Presley (a one-shot)

A/N: Somehow, against all odds in this absolute chaos of a week, I managed to bang out the "Army Elvis" prompt for this week today, like a maniac. I am both shocked and amazed that I wrote a smutty one-shot without overthinking it but also be warned this is hardly edited or revised, nor even really thought out! 😂

Thanks always to my sister wives in chaos and crime: @be-my-ally @whositmcwhatsit @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @thatbanditqueen @powerofelvis and @from-memphis-with-love

TW: Smut! Orgasms! Basically no plot!

Rating: Mature 18+ || Word Count: 2.7k

Sergeant Presley (a one-shot)

He wants to fuck you. Oh lord how he wants to fuck you, from the moment you walk in the room and sit across the aisle from him.

Maybe it’s the curve of your calves and the way they disappear under your pencil skirt. Maybe it’s how your jacket notches in at your waist, accentuating your ample hips. Or perhaps it’s the fact that even with the conservative uniform and minimal to-do with your hair and make-up (as per regulations, of course), you still are absolutely gorgeous.

Or I’m just horny, Elvis thinks sardonically, shifting in his seat.

The movement catches your eye, and he watches curiously as you do a bit of a double take, eyes widening slightly in recognition before your head whips straight ahead.

He smirks to himself at that. It never gets old, the light that goes on in women’s eyes when they take him in in person. And he certainly isn’t getting much of it lately, being effectively shackled here in Germany, clad in his drab green Army fatigues.

Well, that’s not entirely true, he thinks as he pictures the fans that gather at all hours outside the house he’s renting while he’s here, about the girls he invites in. But it’s not quite the same, not the same at all, because his fame is tenuous and teetering here. Part of him is certain that they’ve all forgotten about him at home, despite the Colonel’s reports to the contrary, despite the new movie contracts and albums he is set to record as soon as he returns. However, the sliver of fear about his fate has burrowed deep these past two years and poisons him slowly, each day he is gone.

But now he’s counting days and weeks instead of months and years, and he can nearly taste being home. His fear and the antsy feeling that permeates him is overcome by anxious excitement now, so he’s feeling better than he has in a long time.

And here he is, getting his Sergeant stripes, and that fills him with a different sort of pride altogether.

So, perhaps it is all these factors combined that have him wanting to jump across the aisle, pull you into his arms, and kiss you silly.

He’s never seen you before and doesn’t know your name until they call you up to present you with your earned rank. Feeling a bit lecherous, he admires the view of your ass as you walk to the front and the heaving of your breast as they pin your stripes. Your pretty eyes catch his unabashedly heated gaze and pink floods your cheeks as he locks you in.

Elvis knows what he’s doing. While much of it is a natural sort of gift, he’s also honed his seductive abilities quite a bit in the last four years and gets paid a lot of money because of it. He’s also well aware that he looks good, filled out in a manly way but slimmed down in all the right areas, and right now, he’s not above using his looks to get your attention. And he so does want your attention, as much as he knows by virtue of your uniform and rank, you are completely off limits. He’s not stupid—he’s too close to the end for a court martial. Though he may not be able to fuck you the way he wants, it doesn’t mean he can’t have a little bit of fun.

Crossing his arms, he brings one hand to his mouth, letting his thumb catch on his full bottom lip and his mouth fall open slightly. Then he gazes at you with a pointed but dreamy stare, his eyes blinking slowly.

He watches you gulp and fidget at front of the room, all of which could be explained away by nerves of being put on the spot, but he knows he’s hit jackpot because there’s a little fire stoked in those lovely eyes now.

Tilting his head and raising a brow, he makes a private show of looking you up and down as you walk tenuously back to your seat. Giving him a glare of admonishment, you very purposefully do not look at him once you are seated again, but your hands wring in your lap, your leg crossing over towards him.

He’s flustered you. Warmth rolls over him, pooling in his pelvis, and through the rest of the ceremony, he tries not to think of bending you over your chair, yanking up your skirt, and sinking deep into your silky heat.

His cock twitches at the thought.

Later, fate intervenes on his behalf when he realizes you’ve been seated with him at the dinner banquet following the ceremony. He shakes your hand, introducing himself, letting his fingers squeeze and his thumb graze your palm a little too intimately. The gamut of emotions that flashes over your face before you bring down a stoic smile makes him chuckle.

He guides you to sit next to him, and while you hesitate at first, he knows he’s already won because of the way your eyes widen at the suggestion.

Now that you are close, his body goes into overdrive, and he is drunk on the sweetness of your perfume and the smoothness of your skin. He realizes he’s likely being too obvious in his flirtations but can’t bring himself to reign it in. The other men and women at the table have either consciously or subconsciously deferred to him and his charms, leaving no one to compete for your attention. He lays it on thick, wanting to eat you right up.

Elvis is hyperaware of every time you glance his direction, which is happening more often as he pulls you deeper into conversation, your cool exterior thawing bit by bit. But the way your eyes dilate and how you lick your lips when he brings the bottle of cola in front of him to his mouth has a zing of arousal shooting down his spine and straight into his cock.

Oh.

Nothing if not responsive, Elvis tongues the lip of the bottle before taking a slow drag of the sweet, fizzy soda. Your eyes are fixated now on his mouth, on the bottle, and he watches you catch your lower lip in your teeth as you stare.

Heat courses through him as he pulls the bottle away, tongue rolling over his bottom lip to catch the lingering drops of sugar caught there. You swallow visibly, and he doesn’t stop his teasing, unable to keep his lip from quirking into a delighted smirk at your attentions. Your eyes fly back up to his, as if just realizing you’ve been caught, and you flush a charming shade of red before clearing your throat and looking away quickly.

But every time he raises the bottle to his lips, your eyes catch like a moth to a flame. This time they follow his hand down as he sets the bottle on the table. Condensation gathers droplets on the cool glass and he relishes the smooth, wet feeling as he strokes the bottle with his thumb.

You fidget in your seat. It takes him a second to understand why, but once he does, he feels his cock chub up, caught mercilessly in his briefs and dress pants. The little, mischievous devil in him takes great pleasure watching you watch him make a show of gripping the bottle in his whole hand, slowly thumbing over the opening at the top again and again.

You choke a little and reach for your water, taking a deep drag and blinking rapidly, as if trying to come out of the spell he seems to have you under. You attempt to throw yourself into the conversation at the table, ignoring him with all your might, your body tense in your seat.

A challenge, he thinks, smiling.

Slowly, Elvis presses his knee into the side of your thigh, loving the way you nearly jump out of your seat in surprise at the contact. It’s like a bolt of electricity between you, and he starts to strain against his underwear.

Now that he has your attention, he places his hand back around the cola bottle, lewdly gripping it and slowly twisting his hand down and back up the glass. It’s truly not that far off from his actual size, so the motion feels almost too familiar, too easy. Your mouth pops open at the suggestive gesture and it takes everything in him to not lap his tongue into that delicate little mouth of yours. He matches his rhythm, stroking his knee against your leg, which also happens to provide some delicious friction in his pants. He feels you tense, squeezing your thighs together, and he cannot help but think of your little pink snatch likely staining your panties with slick right at this very moment.

Elvis almost groans aloud at that, catching it in his throat at the last second, but you seem to hear it and your eyes fly to his. Your pupils are blown out and cheeks are hot, and he can almost smell the arousal on you. Goddamn it, he wants to make you come, right here at the table, just for him, in front of everyone, who, wrapped up in their own conversations seem none the wiser at the seduction that is happening before them.

He’s hardly touching you but feels a surge of power when you fidget again, caught like willing prey in his stare. He can’t touch you more than he already is because that would get him in trouble, but if he can’t lay you across this table and fuck you senseless, he’s going to do it the only way he can.

His ministrations on the bottle are serving to arouse him just as much as you, each stroke making his cock twitch and strain and stiffen. Your eyes dart from his to the bottle, back and forth, your breath shallow and rapid. His eyes are heavy on you, unyielding, and look upon you as though you were under him, as though he were trapped and undulating in the heat of what he just knows is your perfect, untouched cunt.

You look back at him as though you know exactly what he’s thinking, as though your tight little hole is snug around him, sweet as honey, treating him right. Your hands clutch at your silverware, your napkin, anything you can get your hands on that isn’t him, and he knows you are well on your way to where he wants you because he can feel how your legs move back and forth, creating the friction you so desperately need between them.

He wonders if he can get away with touching you under the tablecloth, with sticking his hand into those wet panties of yours to play with your swollen and sensitive nub, but your skirt is too long and tight, and your jacket hides the waistband. No, he’s gonna have to be satisfied with eye-fucking you and jerking off this cola bottle.

Your chest starts to vibrate with tension as you try desperately to hold back the short little gasps emanating from your lips and he knows then that you are set to explode. You brace your elbows on the table, hiding the lower part of your face with your napkin, as if wiping your mouth, and he feels your hips buck. You do a helluva job not moaning and rolling your eyes back as you come for him, but he sees you drift somewhere else for a moment in your ecstasy, your eyes going blank as you pant as measured as you can into your napkin-shield.

Watching you unravel so gracefully and so untouched has his own orgasm sneaking up on him. The fact that he made you come just by looking at you but also at the element of public indecency involved has him clutching the cola bottle so hard he might break it. He wants to palm his dick with his other hand, but he knows he can’t be subtle about it and kind of likes the fact you’re making him come untouched, too.

Elvis manages to hold on until you come down from your high enough to look at him with dreamy, satiated eyes and that finally sends him over the edge. His cock pulses heavy and hard, springing against the confines of his slacks, his eyes drifting closed and lips parting as he shivers through his orgasm as quietly as he can. Holy fucking hell.

Your shy, knowing smile is the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes, and he can’t help but smile right back at you in kind. Your rosy cheeks and gleaming eyes make him feel giddy. His face feels red hot and he can’t help but bring the cold cola bottle to his face to cool it off. You choke back a laugh.

“You alright there, Sergeant Presley?” another soldier questions him.

“Ohhhh, I’m fine,” he drawls, amused, “Just feels like it’s a thousand degrees in here is all, in this getup.”

For once, he’s glad of his regulation briefs, as they kept him from shooting his load straight down his pant leg, but he doesn’t have to look down to know by the sheer force and amount of his release that he’s soaking through the front of his pants. His only consolation is that he knows you must be soaked through your panties, too.

If he can get his jacket on, he’ll be okay because it’s long and will cover the mess, but how he’s going to do so without the entire hall seeing he just jizzed his pants, he’s not so sure. It might not be a problem for the average Joe, but people can’t help but watch his every move, whether he wants them to or not. He realizes in his haze of horniness that maybe he didn’t really think this through.

You seem to realize his predicament, however, pretty eyes widening after looking down in his lap. You snap your head up quickly and he can sense your wheels turning. He starts to panic a little when you don’t let him in on the plan, though, as you start telling some story that he can’t seem to pay attention to with the sticky, rapidly cooling mess in his underwear.

Before he knows what’s happening, you are sweeping your arm to the side in a dramatic retelling, knocking the half-full bottle of cola over, directly into his lap.

He yelps in surprise as the dark cola soaks into his slacks, right over the other stain that had begun to set.

“Oh! Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, Sergeant Presley!” you cry apologetically, quite convincingly, and in other circumstances, he might try to get you into the movies with your level of commitment as you place your napkin into his lap.

He chuckles, “Oh, it’s fine, darlin’, it’s just a little soda. After all, I was going on about how warm I was gettin’, so you cooled me right off.” He gives you a wink at his obvious double entendre, and you purse your lips to hold back a laugh.

“Well, I’m awfully embarrassed,” you say quietly, fully leaning into the role. “Please send me your dry cleaning bill. It’s the least I can do.” Pulling a little pad out of your clutch, you scribble something down on the paper, tear it off, fold it, and hand it to him.

“Oh, don’t you worry about that. It’s no big thing,” he says, but takes the paper anyway, sensing that you have written something other than your dry cleaner’s information on it. He motions for your pen and paper. “Can I?”

You nod and hand them over. In his chicken scratch handwriting, he scrawls a note:

If you ever find yourself in Memphis someday, honey, come to Graceland for a visit. Ask for ‘Sarge.’ I’d love to have ya.

Love, Sergeant Elvis Presley

He finishes by adding one of the numbers at Graceland and hands the pad back to her. Wishful thinking, but maybe someday, when it’s not a court-martialed offense, he’ll be able to show you the good time you deserve.

He excuses himself, then, sloshing in his soggy, ruined pants, waiting until he gets to the car to read your note.

Sergeant Presley,

One must watch out for those pesky cola bottles…Try vinegar and cold water for that stain…wouldn’t want it to set!

Corporal Y/N Y/L/N

He laughs heartily as the car pulls away.

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unorthodoxx-page · 1 year

Note

I would love to hear Donnie’s internal monologue right when he enters the story! How quickly he figures out what people think he is and how quickly he adapts all that

I def think he’s probably got the most interesting internal monologue in this situation!

This will be a Tumblr exclusive! I don't have any planned turtle POVs for A Tale of Spirits, but everyone is so interested in Donnie's appearance. So here it is! Short, sweet and devoid of any important spoilers. I will say it’s rough though, I wrote this over the course of a few hours with minimal edits.

Note: there is a low chance of another turtle POV for this story. Like I said earlier (super early, it’s probably buried in my posts at this point) but I have one plot point further down the line where I’m considering it, but I’m leaning on doing it a different way.

Anyway! I put it under the cut incase anyone wanted to skip it, but here’s Donnie’s POV for chapter 1 (just a portion)

Donnie

A circle of swirling red energy fluctuates before him, and he can only stare at it. Donnie holds a hand out towards the portal and the air around it feels warm, scorching even, but there’s no hint of red on his skin. Is it psychological? The sensation of heat feels too real for him to completely consider that option, though. Ugh, Magic. Why is it always the lazy answer? Donnie looks back at the darkness behind him, expecting to see nothing, and sucks in a breath. There’s another portal off in the distance, a stagnant green and brown, with the tip of red cloth falling into it.

Raph. That’s right. He wasn’t alone in Draxum’s library. He turns fully, running for the other portal, and he falls back with a shout. He rubs his nose and reaches out with the opposite hand. There’s nothing there physically, but his hand comes in contact with a solid force. He leans forward and scowls, but nothing he does gets him closer to the other portal. He has to go through the red one now. His brother’s on the other side. He might not be, a voice says. Donnie looks back one last time, at the encompassing darkness, pulls out his staff, and steps forward. There are points in engineering when you have to disregard caution. Not everyone will agree with that, but he’s made some of his best tech on a wild leap and a step into the unknown.

His foot connects with the portal and he winces. It hurts, but there’s no burn or smoke coming from the limb. Psychological then. He pushes past it. Lets the heat engulf his entire being and plants a foot in a room bathed in red. He looks down into the shocked face of a young girl. Everything about her is sharp. From the set of her banks to the point of her fingernails. She’s swimming in red and draped in a style that is unfamiliar. There’s a commotion behind him and Donnie turns to take in the rest of the room. It’s massive, overly so, and is filled with men and women dressed in similar styles, but darker.

They get up, shouting angrily and Donnie shifts his stance and blinks at the rough feeling under his feet. He glances down and tries to make sense of what he’s seeing. It’s a table, a long one that’s for sure, but embedded in the wood is a map. He releases a small breath and tightens his grip on his bo. He doesn’t recognize anything on it, not even a character. A man shouts again and Donnie looks up just as the man falls into a weird stance. Donne feels an eyebrow raise, the man can’t really do anything from that distance, but the man pivots, and his jaw drops when a wave of fire flings from the man's fist.

Donnie moves on instinct, his shell opening and engines revving. He pivots, spinning his staff. He feels the power roll down his arm and he starts the process to build a simple construct. A wall comes to life in a glow of purple and he pushes it toward the fireball. It swallows the incoming flame, smothering it, but Donnie continues to push it forward. His energy wraps around the man in a mystic cage, but the man doesn’t give up. Instead, he continues to throw fire, but it’s pointless. His mystic tech could take on a nuke at this point. Probably. The guys won’t let him test it. Donnie lands softly in front of the girl but doesn’t take his eyes off the man. It’s magic clearly, but he’s never seen anything like it before. Not even in dumb witch town. Where are the wands, the cheesy hats, the cauldrons? Is this another place in the Hidden City? But those outfits? They look like uniforms. He takes in the room again, its size, and finally finds the man sitting on an incredibly gaudy throne.

Wait, a throne?

A piece clicks. A Throne room? Is this what this place is? But where? And where’s Raph, he thinks? Another man falls to his feet and starts shouting. “A blessing!” the man cries, “The spirits have blessed your rule and your line. All Hail Fire Lord Ozai!”

Fire Lord? That’s a little on the nose, but the whole room falls into the chant. Screaming about spirits and blessings. He listens to them in silence, but he feels his skin craw. Could this be some type of cult? He wouldn’t be surprised, there aren’t a lot of humans that would take one look at….this whole situation and think spirit. But the fire? Someone leaves the room, shouting down the hall for sage, but the ‘Fire Lord’ never leaves his throne. Donnie moves, bringing a subtle hand to his wrist, and tries to connect to a network. He frowns when he finds nothing. That’s…odd, but not out of the ordinary for crazy cult people. Donnie pushes further, past the building, but again is met with nothing. What is this, Hogwarts? He thinks, but a cold feeling starts to settle in his bones. He glares at his wrist, forget this, he swipes the screen and pushes the connection past the clouds and through the very atmosphere. He didn’t want to go straight for the satellites, but he has no choice, he needs to know where he is.

Again, he’s met with nothing.

That’s not possible.

He looks back at the people bowing before him, at the clothes he doesn’t recognize, and at a title he’s never heard of. He shifts until the entire map becomes clear and lets his eyes travel over a landscape that means nothing to him. He places another puzzle piece.

He needs to move very carefully.

Some old men come in then, draped in reds and Donnie’s already sick of the color. Where’s the variety? One man gives him a deep bow before approaching. Donnie stands still and lets the man make his observations, while he makes his. They left the door open when they let these priests enter, and he’s ready to blow this joint if things take a turn.

The man gets to his back and stops. “A turtle,” the man breathes and the whole room sucks in a collective breath. “A great turtle spirit has graced us with its presence! This is a sign! The spirits have shone their favor for our quest. Glory belongs to the Fire Nation!”

Glory? Spirits? Fire Nation?

Donnie absorbs all of this while the room erupts again into prayers and shouts. This time more joyous. Even the man on the throne lets his face move from murderous to hungry. He doesn’t like it. Donnie finds his gaze moving back to the girl and she looks at him with disbelief and suspicion. At least there’s one person here with common sense.

The man stands from his throne and the whole room falls into a hush. “I am Fire Lord Ozai,” he speaks, “tell me, what is your purpose here, spirit?”

The priest twitches beside him and Donnie narrows his eyes. Hmm, did this man not address him correctly? Donnie reviews the last few minutes and finds the discrepancy. Great. Fire Lord Ozai left out the word great. Does that mean he has more power than their Lord? Donnie decides to test it. “I do not know,” he pauses, “Ozai.”

Someone gasps, but no one reprimands him. Interesting.

“Fire Lord,” the man sneers, “Ozai.”

Now he’s being ridiculous. Plus, Fire Lord? Please. “I don’t do titles.”

Ozai’s face pulls into something apocalyptic, fire leaking from his mouth. Donnie zero’s in on the aggression and adjusts his grip in response. He wonders faintly if the magic burns Ozai’s throat or if he ignites his breath as it passes over his lips. Donnie spins his staff. It doesn’t matter, he’s an exaggerated flamethrower and Donnie’s taken down scarier beast than him.

A priest -Sage, he corrects- steps between them on trembling legs and bows low before the softshell. “What should we call you, Great Spirit?”

Donnie narrows his eyes and connects another puzzle piece. They were shocked by his presence, but not by his appearance. They should be running for the hills at the sight of him, or at least be calling him a demon. That would fall in line with the Sages, but they call him a spirit. They’ve even given him a title. Great Spirit. It means something in this world, but how far can he go? What can’t he do? He looks back at the girl. Your line, he thinks. Donnie takes in the sharpness of her eyes and the familiar tilt of her lips. She’s related to Ozai, but he’s not sure how close in blood they are. He lets his eyes run over the entire room and clicks another piece. She’s the youngest one here, which means her title must supersede the adults around the table. Daughter, maybe? He focuses back on the shaking Sage and the tension between him and Ozai. He needs more information before he does anything, and this spirit thing might be his best bet. He thinks back to a green portal and the wisp of red bandana tails.

He needs to find his brothers.

“Donatello.”

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oogaboogasphincter · 6 months

Text

lovesick | joel miller x f!reader

Joel thinks he satisfied your craving the last time he touched you, but instead he created a void that only begs for more and more and more.

warnings/word count: EXPLICIT (18+ ONLY) MDNI! | joel and reader are emotionally constipated asf, vaginal fingering, choking mentions, nipple play, some manhandling, light breath play, slight spit kink lol | 2.3k+ words

a/n : i wrote this as a follow-up to say yes to heaven, but it can also be read as a stand-alone! :) i also used this as an exercise to see what i could write in one night with minimal editing so i apologize for any errors. i hope you enjoy 🤎

You gather your guts up in your pitiful hands and knock on Joel’s door softly.

It’s only been two weeks since his fingers had plunged into the depths of your cunt and lifted you up to the heavens. Twice he had made you squirm underneath his hulking frame, your limbs inextricable in the confines of the singular sleeping bag you were forced to share. You can still taste his heavy breath on your tongue, which is wicking up your saliva like a drooling dog just thinking about the indulgence, him .

It’s late now and you should be in the home you’d been gifted by your dream’s sister in law to have all to yourself. That was your original intention, to remain professional. Respectful. A good little citizen of Jackson that doesn’t fantasize about her leaders. You were coming back from a late-night check-in on your horse that got injured during the morning’s patrol and you were prepared and ready to walk straight past Joel’s house, towards your own. It wasn’t your fault you had to pass by his home virtually every time you went anywhere; that simply is the unchanging, damning layout of the town. It’s your wandering eyes and fluttering soul that are the guilty party.

You weren’t even going to give the house one glance. But the only light cast in the street reflected from his living room window, calling you home. Soon after, his blurred, broad silhouette got up from the recliner, lumbering with exhaustion, and plunged you both into darkness. A twist of slightly selfish, infected hope sprung up inside you that maybe you could catch him before he disappeared upstairs for the night.

You probably gave any potential onlookers a scare - or a laugh - from the amount of times you began walking away only to turn back around and repeat the loop like a broken animatronic. Boundaries: greed. Control: surrender.

He had treated you gruffly this morning, more bitter than usual, inspiring you to trail off course to put some space between you two and that’s when your horse twisted its ankle on an icy rock. You shouldn’t be here. You witnessed his hunched shoulders, bracing his aching back when he trudged home after with a cloud of misplaced shame above his head. You shouldn’t be here. He was still in poor shape hours later, his steps to turn the light off slow but determined. You shouldn’t be here.

For all the seconds you spent spinning on your heel on the sidewalk, you still don’t know what you’re expecting to happen by the time you’re knocking on his door. What would come of this? What do you even want?

Adrenaline pounds in your veins, a premonition that you have one last chance to sprint the other way and leave this poor man alone. But… does Joel want to be alone?

The door opens and your racing mind is numbed by his intense stare. He doesn’t seem surprised to see you, reaching his forearm up and leaning on it against the door. His expression is neutral - well, neutral for Joel. You cringe in dire mortification thinking about if he could have seen your inner struggle play out on the sidewalk. Guilt gnaws on the edges of your stomach, leaving behind embarrassed fraying. You shut all the ghostly voices up in your head and speak.

“Hey,” you stifle out in a breath. Silence.

With his gaze locked on yours, you fall silent as well. You’re falling into his entrapment. Down a cavernous chute, landing hard on your feet and shattering your bones from your toes all the way up to your skull, where your brain seeps out of the cracks in lustrous puddles. “I, umm…” you ponder for the both of you. What do you want?

He knows, better than his own desires. He can tell by the way your lips are parted to release your breaths that vaporize in the cold winter air with eroticism. How you’re fidgeting on his porch, unable to decide if you want your thighs apart to allow room for him or pressed together to make up for the absence of him.

His gaze is eclipsed with hunger. It startles you like a piece of prey, but your keenness to be captured returns and crashes over you in an instant.

“I need to hear you say it,” his voice low and clambering to remain steady.

You whisper pathetically, “I want you.” You take a step closer, lifting your hand to rest against his chest but you wait for permission. He grabs it and envelopes your fingers in a fist, pushing it deep into his sternum. His heart pumps with alarming intensity. You guess you’re not alone in your yearnful suffering.

“It can’t be too much,” his accent is thickened with the dissolution of his inhibitions, “Only just enough.”

“I need your fingers,” you pray. You understand you have to settle, not only for the circumstances, but for the health of your mental stabilities. If you indulge too much, you fear you’ll both turn rabid and won’t have the soundness to stop until you’ve physically exhausted yourselves to harm. Years of unwanted celibacy and torturous mutual pining will do that to you.

He agrees with a curt nod and pulls you inside the door by the hand he still has an iron grip on. He shoulders you to the wall, pinning you with his forearm across your chest. Heart blooming with girlish excitement, your fingers wind around his taut muscle corded with protruding veins like you’re bracing for impact on an amusement park ride. Joel ruts his thigh between your legs and wedges you open.

He knows that you know Ellie is upstairs sleeping - he’s never cursed himself more for not having completed the shed renovation for her independent bedroom than in this moment - and that you have to be silent. One of the reasons Joel began taking a liking to you is because he never has to say anything. You listen, you pay attention, you’re not ditzy or ignorant. You sit and observe, one and the same with him.

But he doesn’t trust you or himself. He puts his hand around your neck and pushes you back further against the wall. He doesn’t choke you, you can still breathe just fine, but he holds you firmly in place and fixes you with a knowing stare. Not quiet, silent.

With his forehead pressed to yours, he ceases the possibility of eye contact. That would be too intimate for the both of you.

He’s grateful you’re wearing a button-up shirt. He rubs your hardened nipples with his free hand before giving each one a bitter twist. A ragged breath escapes you, one a little too flustered for his liking. His hand around your throat moves to slip over your mouth and seals it closed, leaving you to breathe through your nose. The button holes are worn on your shirt so it slips open easily for him to bare your breasts. He tugs on them some more, and without any barriers now, the pleasure puppeteers you like a doll with a string attached to its hips that makes them buck with every pull.

You sense his pause as his hand cups your flesh, contemplating something. Then he’s dipping his head to lick your pert bud, coating it with his thick saliva that glistens in the faint moonlight bouncing throughout the house. He licks it over with an unhurried stroke once, twice, before he seals his lips around it and sucks. Your breath comes hard and calculated over his knuckles, keeping your promise to be quiet. He grazes it with his teeth and you can feel the jolt of a switch momentarily flipping inside of him as he takes it in a bite and tugs hard. With all your might, you fight the squeal that streaks around inside you looking for an exit.

He returns to fit his nose against the crown of your head and his breath is hot on your cheeks spilling over his hand that is still clamped down on your mouth. Impatience bereaves him and he can’t give your other breast the same treatment, so he scissors it between slickened fingers and gives it a few deliberate flicks.

With your nipples painfully erect, he finally unbuttons your jeans and rucks them forward, sending you stumbling into his chest, so he has room to shove his hand down the front of them. He swiftly pushes you back into the wall with his hand on your throat again and it quickly retakes its position on your mouth to soften your winded gasp. Joel brings his free hand up and spits a large heap into his awaiting fingers before shoving them down your panties and lubing your folds. Your body jerks wildly with the first scorch of his touch. He retracts from your panties and rubs you from the outside, soaking the fabric with your combined fluids. He spits into his hand again and reaches back into your panties where his hand stays.

You whine into his palm, tears already prickling at the corners of your eyes as he sets an unrelenting pace of strokes across your clit. Under normal conditions, he would be going too fast too soon, but he’s aware you’re on the brink of imploding if you don’t get what you want right now . He stays mute, reminding you of your promise when every uptick in volume very acutely comes from your mouth. You try your very best to focus your air from your throat to your nose, pushing it out with quiet, forceful panting.

You think he’s going to let up soon, change his pace or the pattern of strokes his fingertips follow, but he’s relentless. His calloused pads move from side to side, brushing your clitoris directly with every rough pass. You’re practically drenched, both from his contributions and your own natural arousal, to the point where his fingers glide without much intention put behind his movements.

Eyes glued to his twitching wrist that disappears down the front of your pants, you flinch when you feel a drop of sweat land on your temple. Joel’s bicep bulges deliciously in the constricting sleeve of his flannel as he works you up and his forehead is damp with the result of such exertion. He’s pedaling the impression that he’s more stoic, detached from the moment compared to last time, but his fight is so much stronger. It’s palpable that his walls are crumbling and he’s bracing them with all his might from the inside, praying to the gods that your barrage of enchantment will stop.

You’re speeding towards your climax and your vision blurs with overwhelming lust. Your body convulses with squirms and seizures, preparing for your impending, explosive release. Joel halts his stroking with a lull for his middle and forefinger to delve right to the base of your petals and pinch your clit with purpose. He holds it until you’re a goner and squeezing your eyes shut to quash an unhinged wail. You grapple viciously at his hand over your mouth, pressing it impossibly tighter against you to suppress the whimpers your body can’t. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and through your haze, for a split second, you realize his magic: Joel hasn’t even fucking penetrated you and you’re coming this hard.

He works you through it, his fingers never stopping. You’re leaking so much slick, you both can hear the wet sound of his fingers rubbing fast little strokes across your cunt and it breaks Joel. He falls forward and his mouth crashes against the other side of his hand that silences you, biting into his own flesh and groaning from deep within his chest.

Observant of every flicker of your body, he gradually slows his ministrations to match the come down of your nerves until he’s softly playing with your folds rubbed just shy of oversensitivity. The look on your face is almost offended, absolutely wrought with pleasure and unbelieving that he was able to pull that eruption from you with the external stroke of his fingers alone.

Unlike last time, you don’t thank him. Last time could be written off as convenience; a golden opportunity and two willing participants. But this time is different. You sought your desire out and Joel took a second serving unashamedly. You equally needed this again, craved it. If anything, he harbored more want judging from the swelled front of his jeans. How much his cock must ache.

He removes his hand from your panties and wraps it around your hip, his grip pulsing with need. His other hand frees your mouth and you take a gulping breath, but it’s not the restriction that has you breathless; Joel’s arm moves up above your head, bracing himself on the wall behind you. His frame is impeccable, his body is everything you’ve ever wanted.

“Take the bed,” he murmurs in his rumbly tone, gesturing with his head toward the stairs. His gaze still falls below yours, simultaneously looking right through you and failing horrendously to ignore you. He wants your clavicle, your breasts, your hips, your neck, your face…

“Now,” he says lowly with a bite of harshness in his tone, unintended in the context of being mean but vital in ensuring you escape before he snaps and you shatter along with him. His resolve is vastly deteriorating and it frightens you both when his muscles that cage you beneath him tighten in time with his jaw. You squeak out from underneath his arm before he can pounce on you.

On wobbly legs you climb up the stairs with your jeans unbuttoned and your panties askew, having to catch yourself twice on the railing when you stumble from aftershocks. Joel goes into the living room, almost waddling, trying to avoid any and all friction against his groin. His arms are stiff at his sides, fists clenching and unclenching with the memory of holding you tight and letting you go to drown in ecstasy.

You disappear out of each other’s sight, but there’s no mistaking the sound of his fatigued body dropping to the couch followed by his zipper being roughly tugged open.

main masterlist ♡ join my taglist!

💘taglist (if your username is crossed out it means i couldn’t tag you): @pascalpanic @melody13522 @tenderwhat @maievdenoir @pedrostories @uncassettodiricordi @harriedandharassed

#pedro pascal characters #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x afab!reader #joel my beloved

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noodleblade · 5 months

Note

holiday idea~ kobd seeing snow for the first time

I wrote the majority of this within an hour of you sending this and then I forgot to edit it for a week dncfkjsfksnfksf ;---; BUT I hope you like some cute, dumbie fluff:3

Ao3 Link X

Knock Out stared out into the white abyss with piecing skepticism.

“I think it's just water, K.O.,” Breakdown muttered beside him.

“But we don’t know that,” Knock Out hissed.

Beneath the metal awning, he was safe. Cold- over the course of this flesh planet’s night cycle dark clouds dropped the temperatures to a frigid chill and unleashed this white… something -but safe. They had just wanted some shelter from the night, but now they were trapped, stuck beneath the thin metal roof for who knows how long. What if it collapsed? The white flecks looked weightless but Knock Out could see how they had piled around them, their exact weight unknowable. What if the roof fell in and they were crushed? What if the white dustings were infectious? Sickly? What if-

“Only one way to find out,” Breakdown hummed with a mild rev of his engine.

“Wait-” Knock Out protested, but it was too late. Breakdown released his brakes, rolling forward. His protective, pleasant warmth went with him and Knock Out shivered as he could only watch in fearful agony.

Breakdown’s wheels hit the white piles with a squish , flecks landing on his roof.

Breakdown froze and Knock Out felt his spark drop as his partner sat immobile, windows fogging as the cold crept up his frame.

“Breakdown?” Knock Out whispered before trying again louder, more insistent, “ Breakdown.”

A loud, rumbling laugh rolled out of his partner before Knock Out saw him shift, pulling out of his alt to stand. Breakdown spun on his pedes, arms wide as he flashed Knock Out a grin.

“It’s safe!”

Knock Out remained still beneath the safety of his tin shelter, eyeing the flecks land and melt? on Breakdown’s chassis.

“Then what is it?”

“I don’t know,” Breakdown admitted. He held his palm out watching as the little specks landed and disappeared into tiny puddles. “I think it's frozen water.”

Knock Out wasn’t too sure about that. It wouldn’t be a complete surprise. After all, they had already witnessed on multiple occasions as water dropped from the sky above, dumping across the land. The inhabitants of this planet seemed unworried about it, crafting little plastic shields to cover their helms. The shelter he was in now served as a protective measure for their automobiles, though it didn’t solve the issue of the water pooling at his tires. Nevertheless, the frozen water did not reassure Knock Out in the slightest.

“Think of all the water stains,” Knock Out winced. His finish was already in desperate need of a detailing. He didn’t need to ruin it further.

Breakdown hummed an acknowledgement but his attention was focused on a particularly large clump of the white frozen water. He reached for it, servo hissing as the heat of his frame met the icy cluster. Once his frame matched the temperature, Breakdown was able to pick up a palm sized clump. With a minimal amount of patting, he was about to mold it into a spherical ball.

“You can hold it?” Breakdown said in awe.

“Put that down!” Knock Out yelped, panic edging his words. “You don’t know if it is safe! It could seep to the protoform! You don’t know what that is-“

“I’m fine, Doc,” Breakdown’s smile was gentle as he crushed the clump in his palm and dropped what little remained solid. “It’s just water. The organics wouldn’t leave their stuff out if it was bad.”

Knock Out could see several cars blanketed in the supposed icy water. Logically, he could see Breakdown’s point, but he still couldn’t bear the idea of what it would do to his precious paint job.

“Come on, K.O.,” Breakdown tried again, coming closer to Knock Out’s feeble little shelter. “Just touch it. And-” Breakdown continued over the warning rev of Knock Out’s engine “-I’ll personally detail you when we get back to the Nemesis. The whole package: wash, buff, wax . I can even touch up your flames.”

Knock Out couldn’t say he wasn’t tempted. Just the possibility of the warmth of the Nemesis and Breakdown’s hands on him almost was enough to make him disengage his brakes. However…

“You already promised me that when we took this little road trip,” Knock Out reminded him, not without a slight, teasing purr in his voice. If he played his cards right… “You’re going to have to do better than that, Darling.”

“Spoiled brat,” Breakdown grinned back, his laughter bubbling up. “You know I’ll do whatever you want.”

The words had barely left Breakdown’s mouth before Knock Out fired off his request. If he had to suffer in this icy, wet mess for Breakdown then, “I get to detail you. For as long as I want.”

Breakdown blinked, his helm cocking to the side in contemplation. “Really?”

“Mmm,” Knock Out hummed, his engine purring along. “We can do each other. ‘Make a whole night of it. What do you say?”

It was rare Breakdown would let him, far too concerned with looking out for Knock Out. Which was a cover. Breakdown had admitted once that he felt he didn’t deserve it . Knock Out had been waiting for a chance to prove him wrong.

“If that’s what you want,” Breakdown murmured, his voice almost shy about the concept.

“You act like you don’t want my hands all over you.”

“I didn’t say that.” Breakdown turned his gaze back to Knock Out’s windshield. “Not that you’ll get to if you remain cooped up under there.”

“So we have a deal?” Knock Out asked, making sure his brake unlocked with a loud click.

“We always have a deal, Doc.”

#kobd #knock out #breakdown #tfp #transformers #anonymous #asks #my fics

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allieisacrybaby · 11 months

Text

A Helping Dan

this is a very self-indulgent little blurb I just wrote like 30 minutes ago so it's minimally edited and I am in no way a writer but yeah, I wrote this anyway....enjoy or don't I won't be offended!

Just some good 'ole Danny fluff! No warnings!!

“Ow.” you wince, sucking in a breath through your teeth.

“You ok, princess? Did you bump it again?” Danny asks, rubbing your back. You had been lying in bed all day after getting your ears pierced. The piercing process hurt less than the aftermath, and Danny was being such a doll through the whole process. From getting to the tattoo shop and holding your hand in the waiting room because the anxiety of the anticipation was getting to you; to the actual piercing process, where he watched you so intently from the little chair in the corner; to driving you home and listening to you gush over how excited you were about your new accessories. But, now that the adrenaline had worn off and you were coming down from the high, your ears hurt like a bitch. They were super uncomfortable and felt hot, and you couldn’t find a comfortable position to lay in that didn’t irritate your new piercings.

*huff* “Yeah, I just can’t get comfortable. I want to lay on my left side, but if I do, it’s going to snag it, but I hate laying on my right side.” you whine in frustration, flipping over to your back to stare up at the ceiling.

“Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable? I can go grab some Tylenol or run you a hot bath?” He asks, moving the arm that was rubbing your back, to your hip, where he rubbed soothing circles with his thumb.

“Thank you, Danny, I took some Tylenol 2 hours ago, so I can’t take anymore at the moment, and a bath just seems icky right now, but thank you for offering.” You turn your head to smile at him.

“Of course, princess. If you can think of anything that would make you feel better, let me know.” he smiles back at you with that sweet saccharine smile and those hazel puppy-dog eyes.

“Actually…”

“What is it, sweetheart? Tell me, I want to help you.”

“Maybe…I don’t know…I-” You hesitate.

“Go on, dove.” he encourages.

“Maybe I can lay between your legs with my back against your chest? It sounds silly, but I would be elevated, and maybe I could finally turn my head to the left. I don’t know; I don’t know. It might not even work and-”

“Hey, hey, let's try it. Let’s just see if it gives you a little bit of relief, alright? And if it doesn’t, we can try something else. Sound good?” He cuts your rambling off and brushed his hand against your cheek.

“Yeah, ok.”

“Atta, girl!” He beams, grabbing a couple of pillows to wedge between him and the headboard. He then pushes himself upright against the pillows and makes grabby hands toward you. You giggle and shake your head, scootching over to him to settle into his lap. Laying your bodyweight against his chest, his arms coming around to wrap around and rest on your tummy. You find a comfortable position, lay your head back against his sternum, and turn your head to the right, pain-free.

“Oh my gosh, it worked! This feels so nice.” you sigh out contently.

“I’m so glad, baby. Now shut your eyes and get some rest.” he whispers into your ear.

“Kiss first?” you ask shyly.

“Of course.” he chuckles, craning his neck to capture your lips.

“Thank you, Danny. I love you.”

“I love you too.” He smiles, rubbing your tummy as your eyes flutter closed.

#greta van fleet #gvf #danny wagner #danny gvf #allie writes?????#danny wagner fluff #danny wagner x reader #greta van fic #greta van fleet fanfiction

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raccoonfallsharder · 7 months

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Day 17: Triptych

smut ♡ (day 17 ~ praise kink) 18+ only • Word Count: 5,514 Summary: rocket’s girlfriend is a virgin in three different universes. based on a reader comment ♡♡♡ in three parts smutty foreplay, mostly. minimal editing & very oversimplified “plot”/set-up for each vignette. heavy on the praise kink. use of slut (affectionate). references to exhibitionism and impact play. orgasm delay & overstimulation. no use of [y/n]; minimal editing. i liked this when i wrote it two days ago but i can no longer tell what words mean so if it's no good i deeply apologize (you deserve nice things) ♡ anyway during kinktober we say "fuck everything - including plot.” ♡

based on day 17 of @flightlessangelwings’ Kinktober 2023 Prompt List banner created by @the-purity-pen ♡♡♡

♡ comics (rosenberg, ewing, etc) ♡

You’re on the ship for cycles before Rocket speaks to you beyond the necessities. It takes him a while to open up to Earthers and he doesn’t know you. Frankly, he doesn’t need more friends - he’s got his hands full with these d’ast flarkin’ idiots already.

But one sleep shift, you just can’t seem to close your eyes, and you find your way into the cockpit. You know he’s been flying the whole time, by himself, and he must be tired. You bring him a mug of coffee, just the way he likes - so hot that the generous amount of milk almost scalds, with just a little bit of sugar - and you sit quietly with him while you sip your own.

♡ comics (skottie young) ♡

Groot has adopted you and honestly, Rocket is more annoyed at the fact that his best friend is always picking up strays than he is annoyed at you. You’re actually not so bad - he’d rather be stuck with you than Star-Lord, for instance. You also seem to get almost as excited as he does about Groot’s wrestling matches - not even because you have any money riding on ‘em, but just because you like Groot so much and you wanna support him or whatever. Your face lights up at those d’ast matches. Rocket doesn’t think he’s ever brought a princess to a match and not had her be annoyed about it, so seeing you all excited and yelling and cheering at them kinda does something to him.

Plus you’re always giving Rocket your big beautiful grins and shining eyes and if he didn’t think it was generally a bad practice to fuck his crewmates, he’d absolutely try to get into your panties. He bets you wear the cutest, most simple ones. Terran cotton, probably - maybe with a little ruffle around the hips. Pale pink, or with a stupid little bow in front. Polka dots, maybe.

Rocket spends a disproportionate amount of time thinking about your panties.

♡ movies (mcu, gunn ) ♡

Rocket’s had a stupid, nonsense want for you since day one, much to his displeasure. At first he tries to crush it down by acting like a jackass. Nothing’ll scare a Terran humie off more quickly than being myself, he thinks bitterly.

But it doesn’t work. You try to give him his space but otherwise, you don’t treat him any differently - don’t look at him any differently. You still make him a cup of coffee when you pour everyone else’s and you still tell him good morning and good night. You still check to see if he needs anything when he’s been flying or fixing things for way too many hours in a row.

He likes you for that even more. He might even be starting to frickin’ love you, which is horrifying.

read more on ao3 ♡ read Day 15: Sunshine ♡ read Day 14: Soft ♡ read Day 13: Proof ♡ read Day 12: Heavy Artillery ♡ read Day 11: Nod for Yes ♡ read Day 9: Practice ♡ read Day 8: Turbulence ♡

@evolvingchaoswitch ♡ @wren-phoenix ♡ @pretty-chips ♡ @suicidalshitstick

#rfh fanfic #rfh kinktober #rocket raccoon fanfiction #in kinktober we say fuck everything #including plot #rocket raccoon x you #fawktober2023 #rocket raccoon x reader #gotg fanfiction #this fuckin raccoon #rocket raccoon #rocket raccoon x oc #rocket x oc #rocket x you #rocket x reader

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wooahaes · 2 years

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under the sun [dk]

pairing: non-idol!seokmin x gn!reader

prompt: darl+ing inspired fic.

word count: 8.7k

warning: a lot of emotional vulnerability between reader and seokmin (angst). skinship. vague food mentions (they cook, so food implied). seokmin and reader both cry on each other multiple times. fluffy idiots who fall for each other and know it. minimal editing, admittedly (its 6 am).

daisy’s notes: im sorry i have 0 impulse control and wrote this in the span of a few hours.

summary: It all starts when you wake up in a field without a name or any memories to define yourself with. Thirteen men take you in as one of their own, and slowly you begin to wonder what is going on within this world... and between you and one of them.

< day 3 || masterlist ||

Things were... hard in the beginning. Seokmin knew that just as much as everyone else did. Despite the fact he was always a ray of sunshine, according to everyone who knew him, he struggled when he first showed up with nothing but the clothes on his back. He hid that struggle well, in his opinion, since no one ever seemed to comment on it--more-so on the lack of a struggle. Joshua had once said it was like Seokmin had always been right there with them with how well he seemed to mesh into the group. He just smiled and nodded along, agreeing that the group always felt like family since he stepped into it--but he knew that he struggled a little with feeling... out of place. Maybe it came in part from being the only person there who wasn’t found by Seungcheol. It was something that still stung to think about, in a weird sense that he never told anyone. Like he had tread on forbidden ground, his stay allowed by someone who couldn’t fully guarantee it (but Jeonghan and Joshua had both promised him that he would be cared for, that Seungcheol would let him stay despite the anxiety in the back of his mind telling him that his word seemed to hold more power than theirs). Seokmin learned in time that, while Seungcheol did lead them, he valued the opinions of everyone there. People were allowed to make their case when fights broke out among the group (and they did: Seokmin witnessed so many and partook in some), and Seungcheol listened. But that was something Seokmin learned in time.

He saw himself in you, if he was honest. That same inkling of uncertainty that bled through in certain actions. He saw it in Mingyu when he first came, all hidden behind that happy exterior and a charming smile as he got along with everyone. In Minghao, too, in the way he retreated into himself, too uncertain of the others at first until Seokmin (and Jun--Seokmin knew it was a collaborative effort, even if his initial talks were enough to warm Minghao up a bit) helped build that bridge between them. In Seungkwan, who was brought into his friendship with Soonyoung with ease; in Hansol, who masked it well, too, but opened up when Seokmin prodded him to; and in Chan, who openly spoke to him one night about feeling out of place.

So when he found you outside one night, several days after you learned your name, he wasn’t surprised. Sure, you came out of your shell a little--in part because Chan took you on as his own companion, but Seokmin still saw it. The moments of uncertainty in your actions, more-so when you had to ask for help. He understood it. That was what he did: he understood the hard parts and tried his best to brighten them up so that everyone remembered they weren’t alone.

He stood at the edge of the courtyard, watching where you had sat down in the grass. “Are you having trouble sleeping?”

Your shoulders jerked as you whipped around to face him, and Seokmin could see where there were wet streaks down your cheeks. He understood that part, too. You wiped at your eyes roughly, apologizing without much of a second thought to it.

“I can leave if you need to be alone,” he said softly, but took a few steps forward just to crouch down next to you. “Do you want me to leave?”

He watched you think it over, lips pressing into a tight line before you shook your head. You scoot aside a little, giving him the space to sit down if he wanted to. “It’s okay,” you said. “I’m fine now.”

“Are you?” He sat down next to you, watching you carefully. “It’s okay to cry. We all know this is hard.”

“It shouldn’t be,” you hugged yourself. “It’s just...”

He said nothing. Seokmin just sat there, watching you take a deep breath to keep the tears at bay. If you wanted to cry, though, he would let you. He just needed to know how to care for you if you did, even if that meant leaving you alone to let emotions run their course.

“It’s just hard.”

Seokmin looked ahead, watching tall wheat sway in the breeze. The moon was big and bright, and he wondered if he’d see another falling star. He remembered hearing about one the night of Chan’s celebration. Chan hadn’t shut up about it the entire morning they found you, after all, citing Seungcheol as being right there with him when he saw it. That felt special. Maybe Seokmin would witness something like that with you, if he were lucky. A little moment shared between the two of you might help make you feel more at home.

You reached up, wiping at your eyes again. “I feel like everyone’s just going to worry if I don’t act like I’m fine. I know it’s annoying having to teach me everything.”

“You’re learning,” he said. “Everyone learns differently. No one’s going to be upset with you for that.”

“I know.” You didn’t look at him, just staring straight ahead as you controlled your emotions as tightly as you could. “I don’t want anyone to worry about me any more than they already do.”

Seokmin just stared at you for a moment. He understood that part, too, a little too well. He just put on a smile instead, soft and understanding as he could make it. “It’s okay to be cared for,” he said. “We’re a family. We’re supposed to be here for each other. That includes you.”

He watched you shut your eyes, squeezing them tight, but the tension ease off of your shoulders a little.

He tore up pieces of grass. “But if it helps,” he said, letting them drop into the breeze. “You can come to me, and I won’t tell anyone unless you want me to.”

He could have cited Chan, or Seungcheol, or anyone else that you were probably closer to. Yet... Seokmin felt like he saw himself in you a little more than he saw in the others. Perhaps that was why he felt the need to be there for you. Right when he was about to apologize, to ask if he crossed a line with that, you relaxed a little and finally met his gaze.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you said. “Thanks, Seokmin,” and you leaned forward, pressing a gentle peck against his cheek. “You’re sweet.”

He watched you stand up, stretching in place for a moment before making some remark about how you were going back to bed now. Mingyu was probably missing his cuddle partner. You asked if he was coming, and he waved you to go on ahead. He could use a moment to himself, too. He waited until you went back inside to finally let out a breath, burying his face in his hands for a moment. One little kiss on the cheek was enough to fluster him, definitely because he wasn’t sure you’d be that kind of person. His fingers brushed over where your lips had pressed earlier, and he smiled to himself.

Maybe the two of you would be good friends in the end, if you liked him enough to show that little display of affection in private. He was sure you’d do the same with someone like Chan, and he knew that Seungcheol would dote on you and give you tiny kisses on the top of your head when trying to comfort you (he’d seen Joshua do the same, to be honest). But he felt... a little special in getting your affection like this.

A week later, you pressed a small note into Seokmin’s hand when you passed by him, pausing long enough to ask him what he was doing with Minghao. He pushed the note into his pocket (you lingered behind long enough to watch him do it) and met you gaze with an understanding nod before you trailed off after Jeonghan to go play some card game he’d been wanting to show you. All you gave him was a general time and place (after everyone went to sleep in the gardens), and when the time came, you pulled yourself out of Chan’s embrace. He pulled your little mouse plush into his chest, falling back asleep soon enough while you tiptoed around bodies until you finally left to wait in the gardens. You sat down underneath the peach trees, shivering slightly in the night’s breeze. Normally it was so warm, but maybe it was your mood that was making you feel a little colder. Wasn’t there some science there? You weren’t completely sure.

Soon enough, Seokmin emerged from the church and found you. He walked over, slowly sinking into the spot next to you.

“What’s wrong?” He finally asked a few minutes. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You just leaned into his side, shutting your eyes. A swell of guilt rose in your stomach over inviting him out just to vent your own frustrations. “I feel like I don’t belong here.”

Seokmin held back the urge to tell you that you did. That wasn’t what you needed right now, even if he did think that you belonged right there with them. “Why?”

A quiet inhale. A slow exhale. “I don’t remember anything.” You met his gaze a moment later. If it weren’t for the clear skies and the moon overhead, you wouldn’t be able to see his face. “I didn’t even remember my own name. It just feels... wrong.”

“It takes time,” he said. “Even if you never remember, it won’t change how we feel about you.” His hand brushed over your own. “You’re you. We like you.”

“But what about me?” You felt tears beginning to well up, and started trying to blink them back. “How can I like me if I don’t know who I am yet?”

Seokmin’s gaze softened tremendously at that, already reaching out to pull you closer. You folded into his arms without hesitation, eyes squeezing shut as you let go, tears spilling down your cheeks. He said nothing and just held you, slowly rubbing your back as you cried into his chest. Something in his chest ached at the thought of you being unable to love yourself. He hadn’t fully considered that aspect of it. Even with all the support around him, Seokmin could understand the feeling, too, of not being whole and trying to navigate that.

“I think... We have to love the parts of us we have,” he said quietly when your sobs grew softer. “And the people we’re becoming instead.”

You curled your hands into his shirt, fabric bunched between your fingers. “It’s just not fair--” You hiccuped, trying to bring yourself back down from your emotional high. “I just...”

Seokmin’s fingers grazed your shoulders for a moment as he brought you out of his chest, taking your face into his hands. He wiped away your tears. “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s hard... but you can do it. We’ll love you no matter what,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Don’t forget that. We’ll be right here with you.”

Seokmin felt something stir in his chest at that. A need to hold you, to just stay there with you. Was it the familiarity in you? In your words. Seokmin loved himself, that much was true. But loving something incomplete? The way a parent was meant to love their child? The way partners loved each other, or the way friends loved one another until the end point was reached? What was life if not a series of moments loving people who were still growing until you reached the end? His thumbs grazed your cheeks a moment longer before he let go of you, letting you move back into his arms to just stay there and be held. He understood that, too. Sometimes all he wanted was for the others to hold him for a moment, usually excused as him simply seeking skinship. The warmth of another person’s touch, their presence to remind you that they’re alive: how can someone live without it?

He thought about Seungcheol’s time alone sometimes. It flooded his nightmares, too, of a world where he was completely alone. Even his more recent dreams of being in a band with a few unfamiliar faces turned darker when they disappeared the moment he looked away. He’d wake up, sometimes with his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath, and he’d remember he wasn’t alone. But even the thought of him being left alone terrified him most days. To not have Soonyoung to joke around with, or Minghao to sit with on lovely evenings, or fruit to share with Seungkwan... or you, right there in his arms because you trusted him to see the messy parts of you?

Seokmin wanted you to stay right there with him forever, just so he knew he’d have someone in his arms who could understand. He shut his eyes, letting you just hold onto him and snuggle into his chest.

A few more minutes, the two of you told yourselves. And then you’d go to bed after savoring that little moment of warmth a bit longer.

“Mouse.”

You’d been kneeling in the dirt when Minghao approached you, his own work completed. He’d waved to Jun on his way over before tucking his hands back into his jacket. He stood in front of you for a moment, quiet and watching you. You had greeted him in turn, glancing back at the blackberries you’d been picking before watching him for a moment longer. It was evident that he wanted to say something to you, yet... He was hesitating.

“Is everything okay?” You asked after another moment of waiting. “You can talk to me, Hao. It’s okay.”

Minghao glanced back to where Jun was before he turned back to you. “Do you want some help?”

You looked back at the blackberry bush in front of you, and then to Minghao. “I think I’ve got it handled!” You smiled, “Thanks--”

He kneeled down anyway, not joining in on the work at all. “I wanted to talk to you,” he said outright, “so I think I should just... say it.”

You frowned. Minghao didn’t exactly get along with you the way others did, but you didn’t think he disliked you. For the most part, you just tried to be mindful of his boundaries. “Did I do something?”

Minghao’s gaze flickered back up to your face instead of his own hands where he’d been fiddling with the bracelet he wore--something Joshua had made, you thought. It looked like the beaded jewelry he made. “No!” He said, “No, I...” He took a deep breath. “I just wanted to tell you... I think Seokmin carries a lot on his shoulders.”

You furrowed your brow. “Okay?”

“I know the two of you have been talking,” he said. “I... saw the two of you, I mean. I didn’t hear anything, but...”

“You don’t want me to talk to him?”

Minghao didn’t meet your gaze. “You should talk to him if it helps you. I just wanted you to care for him a little more than you care for the rest of us.”

With a glance at your basket of berries, you decided you’d picked enough. You pulled off your juice-stained gloves, setting them into your lap as you settled into the grass. “I don’t understand.”

He looked up after a long inhale. “Seokmin talks to us, but I think he doesn’t do it enough. I was just thinking that maybe... if he isn’t going to talk to us yet, then maybe he’d open up to someone new. Someone different from us.”

Different stood out a little too much to you. But you masked the slight tinge of pain it brought on. “I’ll try,” you promised.

“I know it’s a lot of responsibility,” he said. “I don’t know how to tell you I don’t... expect you to do it? I just want Seokmin to know he can talk to someone. He doesn’t have to hide his feelings.”

“Why haven’t you tried talking to him?”

He pressed his lips together. “I’ve tried,” he admitted, “a few times. We’ve talked a little, and it helped, just...”

“Not enough.”

On one hand, you didn’t understand what Minghao wanted from you. If Seokmin wasn’t going to tell people he was close to about the way he felt, why would he talk to you, someone who was still a stranger to him? Sure, Minghao said that you were “different” from them in some way, but... why you? What could Seokmin tell you that he wouldn’t tell someone like Minghao, or Soonyoung, or even Seungcheol? But on the other hand, you could maybe understand it a little. In a sense, you were a new perspective to certain things. From what you heard, Chan seemed to get the hang of things and fit in with relative ease pretty early on. You were still finding your footing, trying to get into the rhythm of things a little over a week after you came.

“You don’t have to do much,” Minghao said. “Just be there for him if he asks for you to be.”

That much you could do for anyone there. The moment you promised to try, you could practically see the stress roll off of Minghao’s shoulders. He shyly pressed a gentle peck against your cheek, the way others confidently did, and thanked you before returning to his own work. Your fingers grazed over where his lips had just been, and you smiled to yourself.

It was nice to know how much this family cared for one another.

Out of everyone, you liked cooking with Seokmin the most. Maybe it was because of your blossoming feelings for him, but he was nice to stay around. He always asked you about your day and would gently correct you if he needed to, or he’d tell you a story from before you came. It was nice to hear about the way life was before Seungkwan and Hansol found you, or even before they found Chan... Just little stories there, most from that first month of Chan’s joining. Seokmin talked about the time they went swimming together once at that lake. They’d have to take you one day--maybe before your celebration when they all need the break from preparations.

“Seokmin?” You looked up. “Celebrations were your idea, right?”

He hummed in response. “Yes?”

“Why?” You paused for a moment, realizing how harsh that could come off, “I mean--It’s a nice idea. I really like it. I think it’s sweet how much you guys celebrate your time together. I was just thinking about it, that’s all.”

Seokmin’s actions slowed to a halt. “I think... We all deserve to be happy for once.”

“We’re happy without them, though, right?”

He hesitated for a moment, before giving you a curt nod. You could hear the sound of him beginning to chop again, knife hitting the cutting board with each slice. “Right. But before I came, it felt like everyone was more carefree about it. I think we should take the time to really appreciate what we have.”

You had continued working, nodding along as he spoke. “A home...”

“That, but... our family. The garden. We’re all here and we’re doing well,” he paused for a moment. “We’re surviving together. The others survived before we came here, too. And.. we joined,” he met your gaze a moment, “and we’re helping build this community, too.” His eyes were twinkling with joy. “I think that’s something we should celebrate.”

“Why a month?” You asked. “That’s what the others said: one, three, six, and then it was supposed to go by year.”

Seokmin grew a little flustered as he looked away from you. “I think it’s good to celebrate people deciding to stay and making the effort to live with each other. That’s all.”

You could see the appeal. All you did was nod once more, letting out a small hum of acknowledgement for the sentiment. Seokmin truly was sweet and probably one of the most openly caring people there.

“I think it’s important to feel special,” he said a moment later. “And to remember that you’re cared for.”

Again, you ended up pausing for a moment. That was sweet. Seokmin was sweet. You already knew you were starting to fall for him, for how kind he was, but that moment made you fall a little bit more. He thanked you for staying a moment later.

“Thank you for staying, too,” you said in return. “I’m glad you’re here, Seokmin.”

He couldn’t fight back the smile tugging at his lips, face warm and heart fluttering. He pressed another kiss against your forehead before he hugged you tight, thanking you for being a sweetheart. And maybe, just a little, he felt that feeling of needing to be close to you stir in his chest more.

When Seokmin fell asleep that night, he dreamed of fighting with something over something stupid. He remembered the fear of getting hit and backing down. It was familiar--like the silly fight he had with Mingyu once. But... different. The strangest sense of deja vu despite not recognizing the walls around him, the face of the person he was arguing with even though he swore he knew that person.

When he woke up, he saw your sleeping face across from his own. Soonyoung had curled up close to you again, face squished against your shoulder. You had a hand laid, palm-up in front of you as you peacefully slept. He reached up, cautious for a moment, but he gently placed his own over yours. He liked the way your hand seemed to perfectly fit in his own.

Maybe he already liked you. Seokmin was happy to admit that to himself. Maybe he’d tell you, too, sometime soon. When he was ready, he promised himself.

You had asked Seokmin if he wanted to go on a walk with you one night. While you had no woes to really spill for once (you felt fine, to be honest), you hoped that maybe he’d open up to you this time. If nothing else, you were happy to have him as company. You were always happy to have Seokmin right next to you. He’d been sticking closer to you, too, lately. You weren’t always great at gauging when people had feelings for you--especially in such an affectionate group that seemed to press kisses onto your skin and hold your hand and cuddle close whenever given the chance--but... Seokmin always had this look on his face when he looked at you. It was overflowing with affection, more-so than the way he looked at the others. He loved everyone: that you were positive of. But... something about how tender he would be with you, fingers intertwined with your own so often like it was something he was meant to do...

You had a pretty good feeling about Seokmin. If you were a little braver, you’d ask him outright how he felt. But that could come later.

He had held your hand that night, walking with you alongside the river. Neither of you were going to go too far from the church, but with the moon bright above, you felt no worries about losing your way. Seokmin’s warm hand, palm pressed against yours, only served to make you feel safer. You hoped he felt the same with you there.

“Did someone put you up to this?” He asked after a while.

You looked up. “What?”

“Not the walk,” he said. “I think that was you. But... I know the others worry,” he said. “Was it Minghao? Or Jeonghan? Or... maybe Soonyoung,” he said, voice growing a little quieter, “did someone ask you to watch over me?”

You grew flustered, realizing how easily he saw through you. “No one put me up to this--”

Seokmin stopped, stepping into your way. “It’s okay,” he said. “Like I said... I know the others worry. I promise I’m okay,” he said, pulling his hand free. He took your face into his hands, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “I would tell you if I wasn’t.”

“Would you?”

He nodded, not offended by the slight disbelief in your voice. “It’s my job to help make everyone happy,” he told you. “That’s why I suggested the celebrations. We all struggle sometimes... so I’m here to help make it better.”

You frowned. “Seokmin...” You reached up, pulling his hands away from your face. You pressed your palms against his own, his fingers following your own as you stretched yours. “Then who’s supposed to hold you through your hard times?”

“I can take care of myself,” he promised. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

That... stung. You trusted him. Did he not trust you? “Are you sure?”

He nodded. “Would it help if I promised to come to you?” He drew your hand closer to his mouth, pressing his lips against your knuckles. “If I need you?”

You nodded. “It would.”

“Then I will.” Another kiss against your knuckles. “Can I hold you tonight?”

You frowned. “Seokmin...” You pouted. “Chan already asked, I feel really bad going back on it--”

He laughed. He wasn’t offended by a promise to cuddle with someone else--but you pouting over having to turn him down only endeared you more to him. “Tomorrow, then,” he said. He pressed another kiss to your forehead. “Should we head back? This was nice,” he slipped his hand into your own again, fingers intertwined. “We should do this more.”

“Go for walks?”

“Be together,” he smiled at you. “I like being with you.”

You hid a smile behind your free hand, and the sound of Seokmin’s laugh only made the heat travel back to your face. Even if the night was a failure at getting him to open up, you felt... more certain that Seokmin liked you the way liked him. Maybe something would blossom further between the two of you. If you could have more little dates with Seokmin like this (and something told you, by that cute look on his face, that he’d be the kind of person to follow you anywhere), you’d be happy. Maybe he’d open up to you further as you grew closer.

He let go of your hand when you came back to the church, not wanting anyone to catch either of you in what was beginning to feel more intimate. But you turned back to him before the two of you could head down to rejoin the others, and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Maybe he’d kiss you soon. You made him want to even more.

He watched you trail a few steps ahead, Chan looking up from where he’d changed for bed and been in conversation with Seungkwan, smiling the moment he saw the two of you had returned. He opened his arms out, doing grabby hands for you to come over.

“Let me change, you dork!” You called out, and Seokmin only smiled as he watched you walk off.

Cute. He liked how much you seemed to fit into their family now. He’d end up curled up between Seungkwan and Soonyoung soon enough, but he honestly ached to hold you in his arms again. Something about holding you made him feel safe.

He dragged himself from bed, quietly leaving the room to get a glass of water. The sound of someone coming in pulled his attention away from the tap, and he felt water spill over his fingers as Seungcheol stood in the doorway.

“Is everything okay?” Seungcheol asked once he grew a little closer, leaning against the counter.

Seokmin nodded, wiping off the side alongside his wet fingers. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Seungcheol nodded, arms folded across his chest. “How’s Mouse?”

“They’re--” He paused, hesitating. He figured someone would have noticed the way you two would sneak away to talk at night--and it didn’t surprise him that Seungcheol either would have been told or noticed on his own. You had been struggling before, but he promised he wouldn’t tell Seungcheol without reason.

“They don’t know I’m talking to you,” he said. “You don’t have to tell me anything they trusted you with, Seokmin. But... is there anything the rest of us can do for either of you?”

Seokmin caught that, too outright for him not to. “I’m fine,” he insisted further. “I think they’re having a rough time. They’ll come to you when they’re ready.”

Seungcheol nodded, busying himself with straightening up. “What about you?”

“Cheol,” Seokmin frowned. “I promise I’m okay.”

Seungcheol looked up. “You can always talk to us,” he said again. “I just wanted you to know that--”

“I know you worry,” he said. “I appreciate the concern. I promise I’ll come to you if I need you.”

Seungcheol drifted a step back. “Okay,” he said. “Sleep well. You know we’re here for both of you.”

Seokmin thanked him as Seungcheol began to head back to bed, and he called out a goodnight to him before he left completely. He sighed, feeling as though his mask was slipping a little too much nowadays. He had heard Seungkwan venting frustrations to Hansol the other night, talking about how much of his previous life felt like it was right there at the tip of his tongue. He heard Soonyoung swear that Jihoon’s songs reminded him of something. That Jihoon was getting frustrated again, because now he was struggling to write lyrics in general--and even though he never managed to finish those songs, something blocking out any inspiration to do so, it was... more frustrating this time.

Seokmin decided he would be the sunshine they all needed to clear away the rainy feelings. He could deal with his own feelings later. But when he went back to bed, to curl up next to Seungkwan and Soonyoung again, he looked back at your sleeping form. Chan’s arms were wrapped around you, your back pressed against his chest so he could bury your face in his shoulder. Mingyu was on the other side of you, holding your hand. That little stuffed mouse you slept with was nestled close to you, too.

Maybe Seokmin could tell you, first. You’d been open enough with him. Maybe it was his turn to open up.

There was a little pressure to do things well whenever Seungcheol was working with you. Most of the time, you realized it wasn’t necessary. While he would check in with whoever was on the same chore as him, he wasn’t going to hover over your shoulder and chastise. Sometimes he’d catch mistakes, but they were always met with a firm correction and an explanation on what you were doing wrong if you needed it. But most days, he’d go off and work on harvesting his own things, or he’d focus on his own share of the laundry. He was a leader, yes, but he still had to complete his own share of the chores every day.

Yet he stayed close to you that day, watching the way you were pruning plants the way he taught you. Just to observe, he told you. Yet he stayed kneeled nearby, picking his own share of fruit from those bushes while you dropped yours into the basket between the two of you. Sometimes clipping away at the dead leaves that had shriveled up enough that you could safely remove them. Seungcheol watched on with the slight sense of pride in his eyes that you had listened well.

After the longest time of not talking, save for the occasional note of praise, he spoke up again: “Is everything okay?”

You said nothing, caught off-guard by the sudden question. Did Seokmin say something...? Had you said something worrisome by accident? You weren’t sure. You hadn’t had any problems lately, after all. Was that what worried Seokmin...?

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk to me about it,” he continued on after a moment, not looking up from his own gardening. “But you should know you can always come to me if you need to.”

You nodded. “Right. Thank you, Seungcheol.”

He frowned immediately at that, looking over at you with a pout. “Cheol,” he corrected you, only slightly whiny as he did so. “Don’t call me Seungcheol...”

You almost laughed at how cute he could be sometimes. Despite being the leader of this rag-tag bunch, he still had his moments where the “strong, responsible” leader melted away and revealed him to be someone stubborn and sweet. You hadn’t seen it during your first week there, and you assumed it was because he was still in his “leader” mode to make sure you were comfortable with your new surroundings. But he wrapped his arms around you two separate times before, complaining about how the others (Seungkwan, once, and another time it had been Chan) wouldn’t tell him that they loved him back. He had smiled, teasingly asking if you’d say it back.

You had laughed a little, but you told him both times that you loved him. He giggled, pressing a kiss to your temple before saying that you were his new favorite. It was sweet. You were glad to have someone like Seungcheol guiding the group.

“Sorry, Cheol,” you said, trying not to laugh at how he was still sulking over your slip-up. “I guess I have a lot on my mind.”

He nodded. “Are you talking to someone here...?”

Shit, would it offend him that you only talked to Seokmin...? “Sometimes Seokmin and I talk,” you confessed. “Is that okay?”

“As long as you have someone you’re comfortable talking to, I’m happy.” He stopped in his work, looking up to meet your gaze. “I know it’s still hard, but we’re all here for you whenever you feel ready to open up.”

You didn’t think before you started to speak. “It’s hard to open up when it feels like no one else wants to.” You tore your gaze away from his, going back into your work. “I mean... Sometimes Seungkwan will talk about his feelings, and so do a few others, but it feels like we’re all still holding everything close to our chests. I know you want us to be open and honest with each other, Cheol, but I think it’ll take more than just telling people we have the space to do so. We’re fourteen people,” you dropped a berry into the basket, and then plucked a dried-up leaf that’d fallen in. “It’s hard to bring up things without feeling out of place,” you tossed it away. “Like we’re intruding. Vulnerability is hard.”

Seungcheol watched you carefully. “Is there a way we can help with that?”

You swallowed the doubt you felt. Hopefully you didn’t cross a line. “Maybe you should lead by example, Cheol,” you finally looked back up to watch him. He was serious now, taking in every word you were saying. So you continued on, “I think we all look up to you. If you talked about what’s on your mind... Maybe it’d help all of us feel more comfortable, too.”

He nodded, letting the words sink in. He reached out, bringing you in to press a kiss against your temple. “I’ll try,” he said, although it felt... too quiet. Too light, too airy. Like it was a lie in its most obvious form, but surely Seungcheol wouldn’t lie so obviously to your face. “If you think that’ll help...”

“I do,” you insisted. “I think he looks up to you a lot. Maybe it could... inspire people, I guess.”

Seungcheol watched you for a moment longer, just studying the way you gazed off into the distance. He knew. “You’re worried about someone.”

“Huh?”

“It’s okay,” he said, voice soft. “But... Mouse?” He smiled, “Promise me you’ll pursue what makes you happy.”

You blinked in confusion, and then once more. “What do you mean?”

Seungcheol didn’t answer you, giving you a gentle pat on the head as he stood up. You could already hear the sound of someone--two people, actually--running through the trees. You looked up to see Seokmin and Soonyoung standing there, smiling and out of breath as they caught sight of you.

The two greeted him casually enough, and then Soonyoung looked at you. “When you’re done, you should come join us--”

“They’re done,” Seungcheol said, casual as can be. You immediately looked toward him, fully aware you had more work to do. “I can carry these inside, Mouse,” Seungcheol told you. He nodded for you to go on, to join the others, and you said nothing.

Soonyoung looked from you to Seungcheol, not oblivious to the fact that you were clearly not finished. But Seokmin held a hand out to you, happy to help you to your feet before he started helping you dust yourself off. He was already explaining the card game he wanted to play with you and Soonyoung, and Soonyoung took one look at Seokmin before it clicked. He met Seungcheol’s eyes, and the leader merely smiled at him and nodded toward the direction of the church.

The three of you headed back toward the church, and Seungcheol noticed the way Seokmin tightly held your hand in his own. He looked back at where you had abandoned your work, and sighed. He shook his head. Maybe he shouldn’t take over for you--at least not make a habit of it--but... What was one more day of picking up the slack if it meant you could be happy? He saw the way you lit up when you saw Seokmin had come to find you. If you smiled at him that way...

Seungcheol sighed once more, and smiled to himself. He hoped you’d take his words to heart in the end. Even when he was carrying both your and his parts of the day’s harvest, he could hear the way your laugh carried down from the attic. You were calling Soonyoung a cheater, and trying to get Seokmin (who was laughing, too) onto your side.

He wondered when you’d realize that Seokmin was already right there, and that he’d likely stay right there if you’d let him.

Seungcheol was the first to confess a few days later that he worried about his leadership being enough. He spoke up in the middle of dinner, surprising most of you aside from Jeonghan and Joshua--who seemed to be fully aware of this in advance. Everyone fell in to support him, praising him or giving him critique about how he can do better if he truly felt that he needed it. It led Jihoon to admit he was worried about his own talent. About whether he was chasing something empty by writing so many songs, even though he’d never finish a single one. He felt like he was getting a part of himself back.

Soonyoung understood the feeling. Sometimes when he danced, it felt like he was closer to something. Chan could understand the feeling--as did Jun and Minghao. Hansol could, too, when he worked on his own lyrics.

All Seokmin did was provide support throughout all of it. Not everyone shared something they’d been holding to their chest (Joshua said nothing, and neither did Mingyu or Chan aside from any feelings they could understand), so it didn’t feel obvious that Seokmin was holding something back. But he met your gaze soon enough when you admitted to feeling... incomplete.

“It’s hard to love someone incomplete,” you said. “But I think I understand how other people do it. I just need to learn how to love myself again, I think.”

People loved and supported you in that, just as Seokmin knew they would. Yet...

He wanted to say something. The words were lost in his throat, letters bundled up tight and staying lodged there no matter how he tried to word them. Maybe another night, he told himself. Tonight was everyone else’s night, perhaps. Seokmin didn’t need to add too heavily to it.

Another night, he promised himself. When he was ready.

A few nights later, Seokmin sat with his back against the wall of the church, legs tucked up close to himself. Most nights, it was easy for him to go on a walk to clear his head and cope with the feelings building up. That nasty, bitter taste of not being enough. He made others happy, sure, but what about himself? Seokmin was happy. He loved being there with everyone, with you, but he understood your own plights too well. The desire to remember more, no matter what pain it might bring. Forgetting could be seen as a blessing, especially if the world had ended and left you fourteen behind. Not remembering his mother’s smile or babies he used to make laugh, his school teachers growing up... That would be a blessing, wouldn’t it? Yet he yearned to have part of himself back. Perhaps some might call it selfish, especially if this was it, but he wanted to know.

He shut his eyes, taking a deep breath, and let himself rest a little. To let that happy air down, to make way for a pensive moment just for himself. Yet he heard footsteps, and the quiet groan of someone pulling themself up into the church. The fabric was folded back.

“Seokmin?” You called out to him. Of course it was you. The one person he felt like saw through him and called him on it too often now. You had told him that he could be vulnerable with you: he let you be vulnerable, after all.

“Mouse.” He looked up, forcing a wavering smile as he saw you. This was not how his night was supposed to go, yet he felt the exhaustion build up too high. His walls too short to prevent the onslaught of emotions that were rising further and further inside him. “Are you okay?”

“Are you?”

His smile wavered a little more, the corners of his mouth twitching. Even without his answer, you started making your way over to him, and all he could do was raise up a hand to try and stop you. “I’ll be fine--”

You kneeled before him, and opened up your arms. “C’mere.”

And that was all he needed. He felt his breath catch in his throat, and he immediately dove into your arms and held on tight as he felt the tears well up as words started spilling from his mouth about everything he felt he needed to swallow and keep to himself. His job was to help take care of everyone, to make things happy. That was why he suggested the celebrations. Yet before you, he was reduced down to a whimpering man whose hot tears were staining your shirt as his emotions reached their crest and crashed over his walls. You rubbed circles onto his back, letting him cry as he needed to.

Seokmin wasn’t a man afraid to cry, and you knew that. But when was the last time he let himself truly break down and let everything go? He couldn’t remember.

“It’s hard,” he soon said, voice muffled by the fabric of your shirt. “It’s so hard sometimes...”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Your voice was gentle, no anger or accusations of him hiding things. Just the desire to understand.

His fingers bunched up the fabric of your shirt into his palms, eyes squeezing shut. “Everyone had enough to deal with,” he admitted, breathing evening out. “You had enough to deal with, too. I didn’t want to add to that.”

“Seokmin...” He watched you frown as he drew away from you, his hands resting at your waist. You were so warm and real underneath his fingers. If he let go, would you stay there? Would you disappear into stardust or light, like a lost memory? He liked knowing you were real and right there with him. “It’s okay to struggle,” you finally said, hands covering his own. “You don’t have to struggle alone. We’re all here.” You squeezed his hands. “And I’ll always be here, too, if you aren’t ready to tell the others yet. Or you can talk to Minghao, or Jeonghan, or... or anyone. You don’t have to talk to all of us. But we’re here,” you took his face into your hands, “and we love you, and we want to support you. You just have to let us in.”

He watched you, gaze flickering to your lips for only a moment. He wanted to kiss you, to tell you that he’d fallen for you. Not tonight, he told himself. The time to tell you was later, during a good day. He didn’t want you to think he was confessing because he was upset and not thinking straight. You deserved to know just how much he’d grown to love you.

His lip quivered, though, and he felt the warmth of being loved rise in his chest. He squeezed your hips again, and shut his eyes as you leaned in, lips grazing his forehead.

“We’re right here,” you promised. “All you have to do is ask.”

He loved you. It was all he could think about: he loved you with everything he had. He knew that was the kind of person he was. “I know,” he breathed. “It’s just... hard. Everyone’s hurting,” he said quietly. “It’s hard to take care of yourself when others’ have worse problems.”

“I know.” You sank down a little further to be on eye level with him. “But it’s okay to admit you’re hurting, too. It’s not a competition.”

He nodded. Despite the ache in his chest, the pain of being vulnerable that peeked through the warm love he carried for you, he could feel other thoughts clouding his mind. The desire to kiss you, to hold you, to tell you and be vulnerable in a different way. “Thank you for being here,” he said instead. I love you. Please don’t leave me alone. “Can you cuddle with me tonight?”

Seokmin watched the way your eyes crinkled when you smiled. “Of course,” you had said, “If that’s what you want. I’m happy to be here for you.”

He held you tight in his arms that night, as if you’d disappear if he let you go. Despite confusing dreams of tired nights and days with hot, heavy lights pointed at him (maybe his thought that he was an actor in his past life wasn’t too far off, after all), you served to be his guiding light. The person who made him feel complete as he was, like life was crystal clear when you were around. He missed so many things about himself, yet those feelings seemed bearable when you were right there with him. He woke up when Minghao curled up close to him, an arm draped around him as a reminder that he wasn’t alone. That everyone in that room loved him.

If he was the sun, then you were the moon: reflecting the light back to him and reminding him that he wasn’t the only star in the sky.

Being vulnerable with you was hard in itself. But he spoke up days later, fully admitting to the others during dinner that he felt.. lesser. Like he had to make up for everything by carrying the burdens of everyone else. It was met with genuine care and conversation in return. No moments of making him feel like his feelings were wrong, like he shouldn’t feel like that.

“You’ve brought us all a lot of joy and comfort,” Seungcheol told him gently. “We want to be here for you, too.”

Everyone agreed. Even you, who pretended that you hadn’t heard any of this before, gave him a reassuring smile. He whispered to you to meet him in the attic half an hour after the group dispersed, before he disappeared to talk with a few others a little more. The full group had listened and validated him, yet Seungkwan had asked him to sit with him and a few others a little while longer. They, too, felt the guilt of wanting to remember despite knowing that forgetting could have been a blessing.

“I think being honest is hard,” he admitted to them. Hansol had nodded along as Seokmin continued, “but I think I need to start being completely open from now on. Even when it’s hard.”

Soonyoung knew. “Then you should go wait for them,” he hugged his knees close to him. “Right? That’s what you wanted to do.”

Seokmin hesitated. “I don’t want it to seem like I’m running away from you all--”

“You don’t,” Hansol said. “Go confess or whatever,” he smiled. “We’ll all be here for you whenever you want to talk more, alright?”

He was thankful for people who understood. Seokmin returned to the church, climbing up into that sun room. You hadn’t come up, thankfully, giving him time to think about what he wanted to say it. Should he even say it? He didn’t want to waste time anymore. He needed you to know how he felt. If he waited, he’d back down and make up excuses for a “better time” in a world where they never knew what day would be their last.

So he had to do this. He had to tell you.

He could hear the ladder buckle slightly, the sound of you making your way up it. Soon enough, you peeked over the top, and then climbed in to face him. His name was already on your lips when he turned to face you, back to that sun-window that was painting the room in orange hues from the dying light of day.

“I love you.” He watched your eyes widen in surprise, and steeled his nerves. “You make me feel confident in myself. If it weren’t for you, I don’t think I would have decided to open up like this to the others. And I know it’s sudden, but I wanted to tell you that I love you.”

“I... love you, too?” You paused. “Seokmin--”

“Not in that way,” he said. He knew he’d said it before to everyone. He’d heard you say it, too. “I’m in love with you. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same,” he curled his fingers into his palm. Stay strong. Tell them outright. “I just wanted you to know that I love you and I’m glad you stayed. I... I don’t think my world would be the same without you. Thank you for being you.”

You took a slow step toward him, and then another. “Seokmin, I...”

His chest ached at a lack of response. Maybe it was foolish, but he needed to tell you. If he didn’t, he felt like holding that feeling in forever would kill him. “It’s okay,” he said. “I understand--”

And then you kissed him, closing that distance too quick for him to process. His hands fell to your hips, holding you against him as he kissed you back. He shut his eyes, savoring the warm feeling of your body against him. Yet you pressed a little harder against him, and he staggered back, almost falling onto that bed as he steadied you. You drew back, barely getting a chance to apologize before he pulled you back in for another kiss.

You drew away fully soon enough. “I love you, too, by the way,” you smiled at him. “Thank you for being my sunshine.”

He felt his face heat up. “Can I... kiss you again?” He almost felt bad for not asking before, but you had stolen the first kiss. Was it a crime to steal one in return?

He’d steal as many kisses from you as he could, in the end. He didn’t have to convince you to stay with him up there for the night, just so he could hold you close without anyone else intruding. Other nights he could sleep with you close and someone else nearby, because Seokmin was more than okay with still cuddling with the others (he was a touchy person, after all). He just wanted to fall asleep with you next to him for once, and maybe again in the future when he wanted to steal you away for alone time. Your head rested on his shoulder, arm draped across his chest as he held you close.

“Are you still awake?” His voice was quiet in the calm of the night, and he felt you stir a little next to him. He almost wanted to call your name to ask again, but you yawned and settled back in next to him. “Thank you for being my night.”

He could feel you smile against his chest. If you’d be the calm night to end the day, he’d be your morning sunshine from now on.

general taglist: @wonuziex

under the sun taglist: @shiningstar-byulxx @twogyuu @maijunejuly @strawberri-uyu @junhui-recs @bbmyungho @thedeeppoet @min-tata @silvsie @heeseung-lover686 @lilactangerine @jeonncafe @bfwonu @junsimpsquad @fifty-shades-of-mischeif @wh4txium1n @svt-rouge @blackwhiteandshadesofgradient

#wooahaes.uts #wooahaes.fic #seventeen imagine #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #svt x reader #svt imagine #svt x you #seokmin x reader #seokmin x you #dk x reader #dokyeom x reader #dokyeom x you #lee seokmin x reader #lee seokmin x you

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maybank-archives · 1 year

Text

valentine's day - fluff edition - jj maybank

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

warning: none

author's notes: a little bit late but mushy jj is never too much.

mastelist

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

“my lady.” JJ says gesturing to the boat “come into the love ride.”

JJ put together a little picnic/boat ride to you two

he refused to let you pay for things

and only asked for you to bring your tradicional cheese grilled sandwich.

he wanted to make a fun/romantic surprise

the phantom (rip) had some petals in the floor

and string lights wrapped around the corners

there was blankets and food on the deck

on the menu: pizza

“I know that is not a full kook date, but I try to give my girl the best.”

you could cry right now of how cute he is

you hug him and hold his rosy cheeks

you kiss him and he lift you and spins you in the air

you two had hour long conversations

talking about the future and dreams

“I don't need much, just my weed, my gun, my surfboard and my girl.”

eating and drinking while laughing and sharing stories to each other

making fun of your friends

and making good-natured fun of each other

jj tried to make a good deal at the shop for a gift to you, with the money that he saved, he did manage to buy you a necklace and a ring.

“it's very minimal and simple but i hope you like.”

if he gave you a leaf you would be more than happy

he also gave you his worn out shirt, that happened to be the one that you steal the most

“i guess i lost this shirt a long time ago plus you look so hot in my clothes, that now it's officially yours.”

he also hand you a little note that we wrote but told you to read later

"here you go handsome."

you spoil him with new clothes, a vintage hat and new headphone

he becomes all mushy and shy and hug tight

you two lay down on the blankets

you put music on your phone

jj touch his forehead to your

he gives you soft smiles

you close your eyes and he reach for your hand and plant a kiss

he stroke his thumb to your cheeks

and kiss the corner of your mouth

you come close to him and rest your head in his chest

you feel peaceful in his arms, listening to water sound and music in the background.

you could stay there forever

smelling his cologne and playing with fingers

love confessions

“i would not be half of the person that i'm if i didn't had you in my life baby.”

he holds your hand and trace lines at them

he lower his head as he talks

“I really, really like your freaking pretty face.”

“i just want to spend my life with you y/n.”

“gosh jj, i don't think it's possible to love you more, you're making this really challenging.”

he laughs and kiss you one more time

you sit on the edge of the boat

as the night comes and

watch the stars

at each other arms.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

#jjmaybank #jj outerbanks #jj obx #jj maybank #maybank imagine #jj maybank imagine #outer banks #obx #jj maybank fluff #headcanon jj maybank #jj maybank headcanon

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illfoandillfie · 5 months

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2023 Advent: Day 4

This is another idea that popped into my head while I was planning all these blurbs out. Partly inspired from me writing smut at work lmao. But I think somehow this one ended up the longest of all the blurbs (that I've written so far anyway)

Warnings: workplace sex, p in v sex, fingering, neck kisses, unprotected sex, minimal editing

Everyone has a way they make money to pay the bills. For you it was a boring office job, but you were trying to change that. You’d always enjoyed writing but it was only in the last couple of years that you’d begun to consider it seriously as a potential career. You’d had an idea for an erotic romance novel, spent the better part of a year working on it and, miraculously, a publisher had picked it up. Then you’d written another and another, all published under a pseudonym of course. None of them were best sellers, they’d never topped a popularity poll, but they were a good second stream of income. Enough people bought them that it was worth it to keep publishing, and you hoped that one day you’d catch a lucky break and manage to turn it into a full time job. Until then though, you wrote when you could. During the week it was mostly late at night and on your lunch breaks, but you had a deadline approaching and were a little behind where you’d hoped to be, so you’d taken to pulling your draft up during work hours.

You’d long ago stopped being embarrassed about writing at work. Your screen was mostly hidden from view, angled so that anyone who came to your cubical wouldn’t be able to see exactly what you were doing. And no one would question a word document anyway, they’d assume it was a report or something else for the company. So it wasn’t that you were embarrassed this time, but you were a little more anxious to keep your screen hidden since you were in the middle of a very steam sex scene. Up until now you’d managed to only write the spicy sections in the privacy of your own home, sticking to flirty banter and location descriptions at work. But you wrote best when you were writing in order and you were at the part where the main couple finally had sex. The culmination of pages and pages of build up and sexual tension.

Perhaps some of your discomfort came from the fact that it was a workplace romance, set in an office not dissimilar to the one you were currently sitting in. Your hero and heroine had flirted at the water cooler and accidentally kissed in a supply closet much like the ones you saw daily. And, worst of all, your hero had a passing resemblance to one of your colleagues. Gwilym was the best of the IT guys, always friendly when you ran into him in the break room, always helpful when you had any tech problems, and unfairly handsome to boot. Too handsome for IT. You’d given your leading man a much more high profile job but the same chiselled jaw line and deep eyes that Gwilym had. It hadn’t been a problem when you started. After all, no one at the office was likely to read it and if they did it could hardly be traced to you since your author name was entirely different to your real one. But it would be incredibly embarrassing if anyone, or god forbid Gwilym himself, caught sight of the screen. But you relaxed more as you got further into the scene and no one came to interrupt. The words came easily as you described the couple becoming trapped in the copy room, eventually resorting to fucking on a copy machine. A little comedic but mostly focused on the spice. You were really hitting your stride, the heroine close to falling apart under the hero’s expert touch, your cubical neighbours probably thinking you were having a very productive day with all the click clacking of your keyboard, when your phone rang.

Grumbling a little about the interruption right at the literal climax of the scene, you picked it up and put on your politest work voice as you answered. “Hi Y/N, it’s Gwil from IT.” You suddenly felt warm and less annoyed about being disturbed, “Hi Gwil, how can I help?” “Sorry to interrupt, I just had a flag pop up that there could be something wrong with your computer.” Your first thought was for your manuscript and you hastily saved it just in case, “That doesn’t sound good.” “If there is something wrong, it shouldn’t be too hard to fix. But I do need you to clarify a couple things for me, just so we can determine what the cause of the issue is. Are you able to pop down to my office?” “I can come right now.” “That would be amazing. I’ll see you in a minute.” Composing yourself you closed your document and began to head downstairs to the IT department’s rooms, wondering all the way at what the problem might be. You were always careful about what links you clicked on, so you doubted it was a virus or anything too worrying but still, you didn’t want to lose any of your manuscript, or your actual work, in some sort of freak tech failure.

The IT rooms were overcrowded and stuffy, the walls lined with shelves of equipment – backup monitors, boxes of loose cords, spare computer parts for quick fixes. Gwilym met you as soon as he heard you arrive, apologising for the inconvenience of it all. “I would have come up but it’s just me at the moment,” he gestured to the empty desks his coworkers usually occupied, “so I can’t really abandon my post.” “Oh, no trouble at all. I was thinking of taking a coffee break soon anyway,” you lied, his handsomeness making you eager to please. “Well this won’t take long. D’you want to come through to my office?” “Sure.” You followed him past the clutter into a much neater, though quite small, office. He closed the door behind you, waved you into the seat opposite his desk and sat, pulling something up on his screen. “So what do you need to know?” “He thought for a moment, looking at his screen, “So you’re working on a novel, huh?” Your heart stopped and you felt heat rise in your cheeks, too surprised to pretend you were confused, “How do you know about that?” “Oh please, I can see what everyone in this building does any time I want. Head of marketing up on twelve has been on ebay all morning bidding on a novelty clock. And theres a guy on Six who is,” he paused to check the screen, “currently looking at engagement rings. Sweet.” “You spy on us?” “No. But I could if I wanted to. And sometimes I get notifications about people spending too long on things other than work. Like you and your erotic novel.” You felt embarrassed again but couldn’t deny it so stayed silent. “Bit dangerous, writing that in public. Lucky only I saw and not anyone more important. You probably weren’t aware but sometimes the bosses request info on who’s been getting most distracted.” “You won’t tell anyone will you? It’s just a stupid side gig, I don’t want to get in trouble over it.” “Oh gosh Y/N, of course not.” You breathed a sigh of relief.

“I just thought you should know the work computers aren’t as private as you might have thought.” He paused and then, almost as an afterthought added, “And that, y’know, I thought what you were writing was quite good. Arousing. Although maybe it would be better if she were bent over a desk instead.” You didn’t catch the hungry way Gwil looked at you, too taken aback by his critique of your work, “What?” “Just a bit easier.” “Well, no, the copy machine is symbolic. It serves a purpose. It makes sense if you’ve read the whole thing. Plus, I prefer for my characters to see each other the first time they’re together. They’re meant to be falling in love with each other after all.” “Okay, I see your point. But I’d still argue a desk would make more sense than a copier. She doesn’t have to be bent over, she could be sitting or laying on it.” His palm brushed over the top of his own desk. You couldn’t believe the arrogance of his suggestion but the shock at least kept you from being too aggressive in your disagreement, “Thanks for the advice but I think I prefer my way.” “Well I think you should reconsider. Maybe you haven’t had the personal experience, but I have. And I can tell you the desk works better. Copy machines like the one you describe are fine but they make getting the right angle, well, tricky.” His knowing smirk should have infuriated you but you found yourself swiftly crossing from indignant to turned on. You chalked it up to the sex scene you’d been writing, and that you’d long had a crush on Gwil, so the combination of him talking to you about sex was almost too much. He stood, and you became very aware of how tall he was and how handsome, as he moved around to your side of the desk, leaning against the edge casually, one eyebrow raised as he said, “I could give you a demonstration if you want.” Your breathe caught. You’d missed the signs that that was what he wanted so for a moment all you could do was stare at him. “I hope that’s not too forward of me. But I really liked your writing.” It was like you’d stepped into the pages of your novel somehow, and you knew exactly how your heroine should react, “Well I never say no to research.”

Gwilym looked altogether too pleased with himself as he drew your to your feet, his hands falling to your hips and then sliding down to squeeze your arse as he kissed you hard. It was a strange moment, living out the reality of something you’d imagined over and over, something you’d written into your book, but more than welcome. He was as talented as you’d hoped, as talented as you’d written him, his hands firmly directing you towards the desk and then, when you were in front of it, working to push your pencil skirt up to your waist. He only stopped kissing you to guide you up to sit on the edge of his desk, picking up where he left off almost as soon as you were situated. You let your knees fall open, partly directed by him but gently enough that it felt entirely your decision, and he stepped between them letting you feel for the first time just how affected by your writing he was. Your eyes widened at just how big he felt pressed between you and his tight work trousers. Gwil must have noticed your expression because he chuckled and, leaning in closer to your ear, whispered “I’m glad you were writing your porn at work. Because now I know the sort of filth you can come up. Make me wonder what other dirty ideas you have in that pretty head.” His breath was hot against your ear, making you shiver and breathe heavier, but it was nothing to the sensation of his teeth tugging at your earlobe that followed. You whimpered at the feeling and how unfairly sexy he sounded talking about filthy ideas, a thousand more of them springing to your mind. He seemed amused by your reaction. Not that you could see him but you swore you could feel him smirking again as he nipped at your neck, not quite distracting you from how his fingers were slipping into your knickers.

It took almost no time at all for him to have your underwear off and his cock out, pressing against your entrance. Your brain was hardly working, overwhelmed by your dreams coming true so unexpectedly. But Gwilym seemed to like you that way, barely able to do more than whine. Whenever you’d tried to speak he’d shift his fingers or trail his tongue over your neck or toy with your nipple, effectively diverting you attention and causing another small moan as he drew you towards the edge. Nothing like the banter in the scene you’d written, though Gwil offered a few comments here and there, teasing you for being so wet and reminding you to keep quiet since you were at work. But now, close to release and so close to finally having him fill you he stopped and asked the worst question imaginable. “Have you written anything else about me?” The answer was no, or not entirely, but the small part of your brain still ticking thought his ego might like a yes more. Thankfully he didn’t seem to need a real answer, happy with how fucked out you’d already gotten. “Bet you have. Bet you’ve written about me in all sorts of positions.” The very tip of his cock dipped into your hole, teasing you just a little more. “I want to read them all. And then show you how the real thing feels.” Finally he pressed himself into you, making you gasp.

Gwil groaned as you unconsciously clenched around him and paused for a moment before beginning to slowly pull back and sink into you. He was big and all you could do was moan at the way he stroked inside you, though as he worked into a faster pace you grabbed onto the edge of the desk, needing to hold onto something. He just grabbed at you, fingers wet from your cunt digging into your thigh before slipping down to your clit as he leaned forward, using his arm to brace himself on the desk. The slight shift, the way he seemed to surround you as he leaned forward, the constant pressure from his fingers on your clit, not to mention the quick snap of his hips into yours and the sheer delicious fullness of him filling you, quickly became almost overwhelming. He had taken over all over your senses as he grunted in your ear, his taste still on your tongue. Whining into his neck you begged him not to stop until there was no choice but to cum for him, because of him.

He didn’t take long to reach his climax after that, his breath getting heavier and his thrusts less smooth. “Wh-where?” was all he could get out before another moan, “Where should I?” Your orgasm had brought a sliver of clarity back to you, enough to know that you couldn’t risk anything that might leave a visible mark. But more importantly, enough to know you didn’t want him to move from between your thighs. “Don’t care. Inside.” Gwil groaned again, hips stuttering with how hot he found your answer. He kept fucking you as consistently as he could manage, his fingers no longer on your clit but back on your thigh as if to make sure your legs stayed spread. You heard him curse in a strangled voice before his hips jolted and then stopped pressed hard into you as he came with a moan and a grunt. Everything was quiet and still for a few moments, aside from both of you breathing heavily as the reality of what had just happened caught up with you. Gwil leaned back a bit, slipping out of you a little, “Fuck.” was all he managed to get out. You gave an embarrassed sort of laugh, “Yeah.” He was still absurdly close, still half inside you when he said, “So? Do I live up to your imagination?” You laughed again, “Oh exceeded it. Think you gave me an idea for the sequel though.”

#my writing #my blurbs #blurb advent 2023 #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee smut #gwilym lee imagine

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