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mermaidgirl30 · 26 days

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✨Her Bodyguard, His Shining Star Part 1: Kiss Me at Coachella✨

Bodyguard! Joel Miller x singer fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: I do not know what came over me, but this was heavily inspired after watching Sabrina Carpenter’s “Espresso” Coachella performance. This one shot took over my whole Saturday and Sunday! Thank you to @mountainsandmayhem for helping me with a title and the mood board and for being my beta! 🩷 This is both in Joel and reader’s POV. Comments and reblogs make my day. Enjoy, lovelies!

Summary: You’re performing at Coachella, throwing winks and flirting with your eyes as Joel Miller watches you from the side of the stage. He’s your bodyguard, and he should know better, but he wants you just as much as you want him.

Word Count: 8.1k

Rating: 18+ Only MDNI

Tags: Fluff, flirting, pining, oral (female receiving), dirty talk, cute pet names, unprotected p in v, switching POVs, reader is a singer, Joel is a bodyguard, reader has long hair, large age gap (reader is 25, Joel is 44)

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The warm sun glows against your glittering skin, the music pumping like sugary coffee running through your veins. The crowd chants along with you, singing every lyric you do while they hold their phones and snap videos while you twirl around to the rhythm of the upbeat song. You flash them big smiles, pose for the camera, sway your hips while your dancers match your cute little moves. You’re exhausted, almost done with your set at Coachella, but the flaming energy of the crowd keeps you going.

You spin around, pop your hip out and wave flirtatiously to Joel at the end of the stairs on the side stage. He shakes his head, chuckling to himself while he tries to act professional. That’s what bodyguards do, right? Stay professional? And he did, he really did, but you liked to tease him just a bit sometimes, get him all riled up if you could.

You see the smug smirk he tries to hide behind that patchy, greying scruff, watch the way those gorgeous honey flecked eyes scan your body. He can try to be coy all he wants, but you’ll call him on his bluff. The man is attracted to you, just like you are to him. But you can’t help it, he’s drop dead gorgeous. The way his grey threaded dark curls catch the sun rays, his ripped muscles cling to the flannels and tight t-shirts he wears on a daily basis, his corded veins spiral down his tanned arms, the way he towers over you every time he stands next to you, his deep Southern drawl that sends you into heat every time he graces you with that thick honey-like voice, and the way he’s so protective over you. But you also can’t forget that he's twice your age, which makes him even hotter.

You shouldn’t want it, want him, but you do. God, you do. At night when you’re in between your silky sheets with your fingers rubbing between your legs, you’re thinking of him. Those big, meaty hands, that rough tongue, his deep, gravelly voice that must sound so sweet filled with dirty words. You can’t help yourself, you want Joel Miller, your bodyguard.

He watches you strut the lit up stage, the sparkles on your pink dress catching the flecks of his wandering eyes. He thinks you look so gorgeous twirling around in that short tease of a dress. Every time you bend over or spin around, he can see those skimpy short shorts that barely cover the globes of your ass. You like the attention though, love to tease the crowd just like you’re teasing him now.

He sees the discrete winks you throw his way on the stage, the way you lick those plump, glossy lips that seem to call directly to him. You’re trying to get a reaction out of him. He knows you too well. You may be flirting with the starving crowd who begs for more, but you’re also flirting with him. And he can’t help but get drawn into those beautiful eyes of yours that glisten in the sunlight, can’t help the way his cock is straining against the zipper of his denim jeans right now, precum spilling over the tip thinking about thrusting between those pretty legs of yours. He wants you so fucking badly, and you have no idea.

You twirl your curls flirtatiously around your finger, flipping your hair behind your shoulders while he watches from the corner of the stage, pretending like that’s his hand wrapped around your flowing locks. Another wink his way and he’s mush against the edge of the stage. Maybe you are trying to get a reaction out of him, you just love to tease him, but he loves it just the same. You’re nothing but a little troublemaker.

He thinks about you all the time on those lonely nights on long tours, when he’s under his pristine sheets that graze against his hardening cock. He whispers your name under his breath when he’s stroking himself, pretending his hand is yours gliding over him, spreading precum with your soft hands, your pretty mouth. And when he cums he thinks of your glittering eyes, imagines you encouraging him on while he spills hot ropes of cum all over his soft tummy.

He may feel a little guilty after doing that, those dirty thoughts that swirl in his head night after night, but there’s no way in hell he feels bad about doing it. He’d have you every day if it was up to him. Oh, yes. He’d ravage your body till you had nothing left to give but your own breath that blows gently against his hungry lips. Damned if he does, and damned if he doesn’t. Either way he’s completely fucked.

The end of your routine is drawing close, the last number halfway over while the sun kisses your tanned skin. He knows you’re tired, can see it in the sweat that glistens like diamonds down your dainty arms. He’d go and scoop you up in his arms, let you wrap your own around his neck while he carried you to safety, away from prying vultures in the crowd, but he knows paparazzi would snap those pictures in a heartbeat and cause a scene in the tabloids. The pop princess and bodyguard have a scandalous affair at Coachella together. He scoffs at the thought. Fucking idiots starving for a shiny penny to add to their useless names.

The moment you sing your last line, you wave to the crowd and blow kisses to the rowdy audience. “Thank you, Coachella! See you next year!” They chant your name, begging for one more song, but your time is up. So you exit the stage all smiles with glitter falling to the ground, keeping your glow until you get to the edge of the stage.

Joel’s right there waiting for you, a water bottle and small towel in hand, just like he always does. He looks so good in his tight black t-shirt, sleeves pulling at his bulging biceps while his dark jeans hug his meaty thighs tightly. He always looks so good that you feel dizzy when he takes your hand and helps you down the stairs and off the buzzing stage.

Your breath catches in your throat when he closes his thick, calloused fingers over yours, his honey eyes bright and alert when he hands you the water bottle and dabs your sweaty forehead with the soft towel. You could melt into a puddle right here and now the way he’s looking at you all protective and warm-like.

“You really gave them a show today, darlin’,” he drawls as his dark flecks of warmth serenade you with attention.

“Yeah, you think so?”

“Mhm,” he hums, staying attentive to you while he watches you take a sip of water.

“Did I give you a show, too?” you ask all flirtatiously, batting your long eyelashes up at him as you slide your tongue slowly over your glossy lips, licking off a droplet of water.

His cheeks grow red, eyebrows fusing together as he shakes his head and runs a large hand slowly through those messy curls you so want to run your own fingers through. “C’mon, trouble. Let’s jus’ get you back to the trailer.” He grabs your elbow and drags you through the winding backstage area, dodging cords and other performers that stand in your way.

You follow next to him, quick to stay on his trail while fans scream from the right behind barricades when they see you. Joel pushes you to the left, lingering his large hands on you just a few seconds too long while he works to keep you safe. You know it’s his job, but it turns you on at the sight of him watching out for you, keeping a hand firmly on your arm, making sure no one else touches you but him.

Maybe it’s a lovesick fantasy, a fever dream that you and Joel could be more than this. More than just a bodyguard who’s just doing his job to watch out for you. You feel it, that sexual chemistry when you’re near each other, even in a large crowd that won’t stop screaming your name, demanding pictures and autographs while he pushes them away from your reach. You feel it in his heated stare, the brush of his calloused fingertips on your tanned skin, the devilish smirk he gives you when you tease him or say something you shouldn’t. You know he feels it, too. He has to. He’s just as delusional and lovesick as you. You see it in the glow of those amber eyes. He knows.

“So, you have a free night tonight, huh?” you ask as you keep your fingers curled around the soft fabric of his t-shirt.

“Sure, if you call keepin’ you out of trouble free time,” he chuckles, his brown eyes gazing back toward you, just enough to paint streaks of dark pink over your already blush caked cheeks.

“Me, trouble? Never,” you tease while you flash him a bright smile.

“Oh, you’re trouble alright. But you’re not the one I’m worried about. These Coachella fans can get pretty intense. I’d jus’ feel better if I was watchin’ out for you is all.”

“You don’t want a night off though?”

He looks back toward you and knits his eyebrows together, concern lathered all in those brown doe eyes of his. It makes you weak in the knees. “I’m alright. Besides, you’re not bad company to have.” He nudges you with his elbow and winks your way, completely knocking the breath from you.

Did Joel Miller just say you were good company? A quiet, reserved guy like him likes your company? The one that would rather grab a drink at the bar alone and sit in silence with a good book while no one bothers him? Guess you did have an affect on him afterall.

“Not bad company?” you giggle as you push against his shoulder.

“Not bad at all, darlin’. You’re jus’ the kind I need,” he says with a hidden smirk under that salt-and-pepper scruff you want to drag your fingers through. Yeah, you’re just what he needs.

Suddenly, a screaming fan comes from your left, some psycho that escaped through the wrought iron fence who stomps your way. He charges over to you, calling your name as his spindly fingers close over your arm, his other hand clawing at your pink sparkly dress. “Let me take a picture, please! I love you, I drove hours just to see you sing. Please!”

Joel rips the guy's hands off your body, pinning his hands behind his back against a caged off area while you fight to catch your breath. Your heart thunders in your chest watching Joel being so protective, possessive over you while the fan begs for mercy against Joel’s tight grip.

“Keep your fuckin’ filthy hands off of her! She’s not a toy you can just grab and demand things from. She didn’t give you permission, didn’t ask for you to claw at her dress. So I suggest you walk back out to the general admission area and stay the fuck away from her. Understood?!” His voice sounds like crackling thunder, that deep rugged breath towering over the cowering fan as he makes red marks over the fan’s useless wrists. Joel was just doing his job, one he was damn good at. But he made it look so sexy.

You stare in amazement, blinking through your thick lashes while you watch Joel shove the crazed fan through the fence, warning him to keep his distance or else he’ll wish he never stepped foot into the music festival. You gawk at him, watching the way his muscles flex underneath his t-shirt, watching the scowl across his mouth darken his menacing eyes. He’s a dominant wolf protecting his pack, and his pack is you.

You watch his flared nostrils and harsh eyes soften when he turns and looks at you, one of his large hands coming to clasp around your wrist while he assesses your wide-eyed features. “You okay?”

You nod your head slowly, keeping your gaze on him as he makes sure you’re alright. “Really, I’m fine, Joel. Thank you.”

Before he can manage a reply back to you, blinding cameras start flashing before your eyes, paparazzi swarming you as they just assessed the scene. They throw questions at you, screaming your name while you try to drown out their echoing voices.

You stick like glue to Joel’s side, latching your arms around his strong torso while you hide your face in his t-shirt beneath his shoulder. Joel wraps a protective arm around your back and guides you to safety.

“Get back! She ain’t answerin’ questions right now, she jus’ got off the stage. Leave her alone!” His deep voice hounds them, barking strict orders for them to stay back.

You’re so thankful for Joel right now, your knight in shining armor steering you to safety. The blinding lights start to slowly fade away, the reaching hands and firm demands slipping away once you enter the safe vicinity of your tour trailer.

Joel unfolds you from his safe grasp, turns you around and places one hand gently under your chin as if to say it’s okay, baby girl. They’re gone. He scans your frightened eyes, but you melt into a relaxed state when he looks at you with those concerned honey eyes that swallow you whole.

“You sure you’re alright?” he asks with eyebrows furrowed together in a panicked state.

“I am now. Thanks for saving me. You’re my hero,” you smile as he lets out a sigh of relief and shakes his head.

“Jus’ doin’ my job, sweetheart. Can’t help it that everyone wants a piece of you. Gotta protect the shining star,” he winks, nearly sending you over the edge of the steps to your trailer.

“Well, you’re pretty great at your job, Miller. Best bodyguard ever,” you flirt as you poke him playfully in the chest.

“Alright, little pop star. Why don’t you go relax for a bit? I’ll be out here, be sure to fight off any more paparazzi parasites,” he smiles while he watches you twist the handle and enter your safe haven.

“Joel?” you call before you close the door.

“Hmm?” he asks as he twists around and faces you with gentle brown eyes.

“Go easy on them.”

He just rolls his eyes and shakes his tousled curls off his sweaty forehead. “Sure thing, darlin’. Alright now, go on. Get in there,” he instructs as he nods to your room.

You huff out and slump your shoulders, pretending like it’s the biggest chore in the world. He ticks his jaw and raises an eyebrow at you that tells you he’s not messing around, so you fully oblige his request. “Alright, alright. I’m going,” you sigh.

“Attagirl,” he chuckles.

Your cheeks burn red as he leaves you with the hottest word before you close the door with a jolt. Attagirl. The word rushes through you, straight to your core where you feel a bit of slick build against your sticky lace. How can a man get you turned on with just one word? Well, it’s Joel Miller, and the man can make you wet with the wink of those pretty brown eyes, but Attagirl was next level. It was borderline porn to your ears.

When you hear the click of the door close you take a second to breathe, leaning up against the sealed door while you flick the lights on and try to calm your racing nerves. You assess your pristine room, taking in the white walls hung with pink fairy lights. The glow from your vanity mirror lights up the little corner where your sparkly makeup sits neatly together. The pink velvet sectional sits up against the middle of the wall where a picture of Marilyn Monroe hangs right above that. Soft pink colors cover the room, and you feel suddenly at ease in the protection of your trailer.

You meander toward the vanity mirror, assessing your perfect makeup that still stays intact on your glowing face. The sparkling pink eyeshadow mixes in with the sharp wings of black eyeliner that frames your soft eyes. Shimmery pink lip gloss coats your plump lips, and the blush stands out against your tanned skin. Your spiral curls flow gently over your shoulders, and your sparkly dress hugs all your curves in the right places.

You suddenly want to be free of your costume, wanting to throw on a pair of cutoff jean shorts and an oversized t-shirt. When you turn your back to the mirror and try to unzip your dress, it gets stuck just a couple inches from the top.

“Oh, come on. Work with me.” You fight the zipper again, tugging with all your might until you grit your teeth together and curse under your breath. This is not what you need right now. You want out of this dress, out of these high heels, out of these smothering tights.

You stomp your heel into the plush carpet, folding your arms across your cleavage as you decipher just what to do. Lacy, your assistant, is tied up in important meetings for the rest of the afternoon. She’s nowhere near your little trailer. Your makeup artist is busy helping other performers, so you have no other options. Joel is the only one…

You gulp, take a long look at your flushed cheeks just thinking of having Joel Miller unzip your dress. It’s harmless, really, but not if he’s doing it. That would only lead to one thing. Giving into pure desire, temptation, need.

“Fuck it,” you whisper to yourself, “if a show is what he wants, then a show is what he’ll get.”

You tiptoe to the door, hovering your hand over the handle as you take a deep breath and breathe in and out slowly. It’s just a zipper, only a zipper. He could always say no, leave you stranded while you’re stuck in your dress the entire evening. He wouldn’t do that though, leave you helpless while you fight to rip the tight dress off your body. He just wouldn’t allow that. No way.

You take one more deep breath and open the door slowly, slipping your head out as you see Joel standing at the bottom of your trailer steps. You clear your throat and watch him turn his head quickly in your direction, leaving his guard wide open as he assesses your distressed face. “Umm, Joel. Can you do me a favor?”

His eyebrows knit together while his eyes glaze over your body. “What is it, darlin’?” His doe eyes lean into yours, and you can barely muster up any words while he looks at you like that, all caring and deep.

“Well, my zipper got stuck in the back, and I can’t get it down. Do you think you can help?” you ask shyly, your eyes looking up nervously through your long lashes.

“Uhh, where’s Lacy? I can go grab her, let her help ya out.”

“No!” You reach out an arm and grab his wrist tightly, watching his brown eyes widen at your sudden contact on his tanned skin.

“No?” he asks confused, his breath picking up underneath his dark t-shirt.

“I mean, she’s in meetings for the rest of the afternoon. She’s nowhere near the trailer. And I’m awfully uncomfortable in this tight dress. Do you think you can just come in really quick and help?”

He gulps down a breath, his heartbeat picking up incredibly fast while he looks into your gorgeous eyes. How can he say no to that? He can’t, so he won’t. He rakes a hand slowly through his greying scruff and nods your way.

“‘Course I’ll help, sweetheart. C’mon then.” He places a hand gently on your lower back and leads you into the glowing lights of the trailer, letting the door close with a bang as he guides you to the middle of the room.

“Turn around for me, sweetheart,” he asks nicely as you oblige and turn your back toward him.

He looks at your undone zipper, sees where it’s stuck in the pink fabric of the dress. Of course he’d be the only one around to help you, of all things a fucking stuck zipper on you. He has no resistance when it comes to you, he just can’t say no to that pretty face of yours.

“Zipper’s jus’ caught in the fabric. Should just take a little tugging,” he says with gritted teeth, pulling on the zipper while he holds the silky fabric tight with his other hand.

After a few seconds of fighting the dress, he gets it free of the catching fabric. He slowly unzips the back of your sparkling dress, going ever so slowly as if not to make a single sound. The only sounds he hears are your quick breaths, the beating of his own racing heart, and the noise of tugging you free of the suffocating, tight dress.

He watches it stop at the end of your curvy hips, catching the way your skin seems to shimmer as your flawless skin comes into his line of vision. He sees the way the dress falls open in the back, your skin begging to be touched, to be stroked as it beckons him closer and closer until he’s hovering above your hot skin.

He knows he shouldn’t linger, shouldn’t hover over the glow of your exposed skin, but it’s almost sinful not to touch you when the glitter of your undertones calls directly to him. He gives in, stealing just a touch as he rubs his fingers slowly down your spine.

You squirm beneath his touch, tingling sensations running wildly down your skin with each touch he takes from you. You ravish in it, holding your breath while he takes his time dipping across the curve of your back.

He leans into you, ghosting his lips across your neckline while he breathes you in deep. He smells the vanilla scent of your perfume, lilac breezing through your soft curls, and can even smell the cherry flavor of your glittery lip gloss. You must taste so good, he can already feel your soft lips against his while he takes his other hand and moves your curls over the left side of your shoulder.

You turn your head back gradually, exposing the veins in your slender neck while it gives him access to dip his lips against the curve of your neck. “Joel,” you whisper out, your insides shaking as the hand on your back sinks down to the curve of your hip.

He can’t respond, too lost in your delicious scent while his hand dances against the silk of your tempting skin. He’s a bad man, putting himself in this vulnerable position where he’s alone with you, with your zipper completely down and your dress barely holding itself against your perfect body.

He should go back outside, stay away from your midnight eyes, your luscious locks, your sweet smelling perfume, but he can’t. He just can’t. He’d rather die than to leave you alone now, untouched, not taken care of. He’s your bodyguard, he’s paid to take care of you. So he will, in every way that he can. He’ll have his way with you. If your zipper can be fixed then who's to say that ache between your legs can’t, too?

He spins you around, your chest pressed flush against his while he slowly backs you up against the wall, caging you in with his strong arms while he breathes in your sweet vanilla scent that drives him wild. He sees the cleavage practically spilling from the top of your undone dress, wants to fucking rip it to shreds until there’s nothing left but your glowing skin under the tips of his pressing fingers.

He takes a hand and pushes back a strand of curls behind your ear, lingering his thick fingers along your jawline while you breathe in the woodsy mahogany smell, his expensive cologne that you could lather yourself in just to smell like him. He’s so close that he could lean down and press his lips to yours, so close that you could twist your fingers through those lush curls that you so desperately want to meld your fingers to.

You’ve never been this close to him before, to where you can see just how pretty and clear his brown flecked eyes are. You’re driving yourself into dangerous territory, but you don’t care. No one’s here to stop you from making any mistakes, and Joel is not a mistake.

He hovers over you, dragging his lips against your jawline and stopping at the shell of your ear, lingering there while his meaty hands dig into the curve of your hips. “We shouldn’t… I shouldn’t,” he says with gritted teeth, painfully dragging out the words while he tickles the shell of your ear with his plush lips.

“Why not?” you whine pathetically as you place a hand under his shirt, making him jump while you graze over the happy trail that leads underneath his jeans. It makes a deep groan slip from his throat.

“I’m twice your age. You jus’ turned twenty-five, I’m pushing forty-five. I’m your bodyguard. I should be more respectful, shouldn’t give in to a pretty thing like you,” he murmurs as he feels his cock hardening beneath the denim of his jeans.

“I don’t care that you’re older or that you’re my bodyguard,” you mumble as your fingers tug the leather belt free from his jeans.

He groans, licking the edge of your ear while he fights to find an ounce of control in his desperate body. He finds none. “We shouldn’t, darlin’. It’d be irresponsible on my part. What if the paparazzi found out? They’d turn the headlines into a hell of a mess. Hell, your publicist would kill me,” he says defeatedly while his hands stay glued to your hips.

“I don’t care what my publicist says, I don’t care about the paparazzi. I know what I want, Joel. I know you want it, too. Just as much as I do.”

He groans against you, doing his best to resist you, but he can’t. He’s a weak man for you, and he’ll give in with the snap of your fingers. He’s got no fight left in him, he’s all yours. “Are you sure, sweetheart? You want this? Want me?”

You grip tighter to his jeans, dragging his hips flush against yours as you feel the swell of his cock through the denim. He’s so fucking big, and you haven’t even seen him yet. “Yes, Joel. Please. Want you, only you,” you stifle out a moan as his lips trail against your neck, gently nipping and sucking against your sensitive areas while his hands ghost over the curve of your breasts.

“God, I can’t say no to you, gorgeous. You don’t even know what you do to me every time I see you up on that stage, singin’ with that angelic voice of yours, dancin’ around all flirtatiously while you make me so fuckin’ hard beneath my jeans.”

You groan at his filthy words, letting him spread your legs while one of his parts your legs wider. One hand trailing up your inner thigh while his other slowly pulls against the top of your pink dress. “You don’t know how badly I’ve wanted to do this for so long, how much I’ve wanted to press my face between those thick thighs of yours,” he groans as he trails his lips against the cleavage of your dress.

“Probably just as long as I’ve wanted you to,” you pant out as he tugs at the hem of your dress.

“Yeah, s’that right?” he teases, dragging his teeth lower down your breasts.

“Mhm. Joel, fuck. Taste me, touch me, fuck me,” you beg as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Fuck you, hmm? That what you want?” he teases while he slowly pulls your dress free, hearing it drop to the floor when all you’re left in is your shorts and tights.

“Yes, please. Want you, need you to touch me. Do it, Joel. Please,” you whine, twisting your fingers around the curls around the base of his neck.

He chuckles out, sucking in a breath as he fully obliges your request. “Alright, pretty pop star. If that’s what you want, how can I say no to you?”

He leaves you with no warning, cupping one breast in his large palm while he sucks on your other one, running his tongue in circles until your nipples are pebbled and swollen beneath his tongue, his mouth, his hands. He does the same to the other one, languidly sliding his tongue over the pebbled bud while he massages your breasts with his calloused fingers.

He bathes in your moans, making certain to get you all worked up where he knows you’re already soaking beneath your panties. That’s where he wants you wet, begging for him to touch you.

“Joel,” you whine, feeling his fingers fall free from your pebbled breasts.

“I know, baby. I know. Don’t worry, gonna take care of my girl.”

Before you can speak, he cups your face and sinks his plush lips against the gloss of yours, melding his mouth to yours while he tastes the cherry flavor of your lip gloss. You part your lips for him, inviting him in as you feel him lick feverishly into your mouth. Your tongues dance together in unison, allowing him to tangle his with yours while he revels in your pretty moans against his hungry mouth. He’s starving for you, absolutely famished while he takes and takes from you, letting his tongue explore the entirety of your open mouth. If you taste this good, just think how absolutely divine you must be between your legs.

His hands roam down to your shorts, slipping his fingers inside the waistband and tugging them free of your skin. You step out of your high heels, kick the pink shorts aside and allow his mouth to break free of yours. You pant tirelessly, watching him kneel between your legs as he starts to run his fingers up and down your thighs.

He looks up at you, his eyes becoming dark pits that consume him whole. He’s feral for you, and he won’t stop till he has every last drop from you. “You have another pair of these?” he asks, nodding to your tights.

“I’ve got a million pairs,” you say out of breath.

He smirks up at you before he tears into the flesh of your tights, ripping them to shreds while one of his large hands meets the lace of your panties. “What about these, hmm? Gonna miss these?”

You shake your head, unable to get a word out as you swallow a whine in the back of your throat. “No?” he asks all deep and gravelly while his thumb traces against the edge of your lace, sliding down to put some pressure between your drenched lips.

You throw your head back and whine, begging him to continue on. “No, Joel. Just take them off, please. Need you,” you breathe out desperately.

“That’s all you had to say, sweetheart.” He takes no time, ripping into the seam of your panties as you watch him split them in half, throwing them in a pile on the floor while his eyes blow wide when he takes in the bare sight of you.

He groans to himself, dragging a finger through your wet arousal, parting you in the middle as he hears the sloshing sounds come from his thumb spreading the wetness all across your dripping core. He inhales you, reveling in the pretty noises you make while he takes his time exploring you, gathering the slick on his calloused fingers as he burns the sight of your messy pussy in the back of his brain.

“Shit, baby. Already so fuckin’ wet for me. This what I do to you, hmm? You always this wet around me?”

“Mhm,” you moan, feeling his fingers pull you apart as more slick pools between your thighs.

“All this for me, goddamn. Ain’t I jus’ the luckiest man alive.” He licks a thick stripe up your core, dragging his tongue to lap up the slick that spills from your insides, making you pant out with need as he makes you come undone. “Don’t worry, baby. Gonna take real good care of this pretty pink pussy. Just sit back, relax, and let me do all the work.”

He doesn’t even give you a chance to breathe, he just dives right in. He takes the flat of his tongue and strokes your folds, working you up and down while he soaks in the sweet taste of you. He hooks one of your pliant legs over his shoulder while you fight to not break already.

He drags his nose through the curls above your mound, sucking your swollen clit into his mouth while he breathes in the sensational musk of your pussy, drinking down your sticky arousal that makes his taste buds come to life. He’s never tasted a pussy this sweet before in his life, never quite experienced the high of such an intoxicating body before. He’s wanted you for so long now, and he never even imagined it’d be this good before.

“Joel,” you moan above him, wrapping your delicate fingers through his messy curls, driving out a deep groan from him by the way you cling to him. He loves the feel of you in his hair, pulling and tugging while you bite your lower lip and moan his name over and over again. It’s like an addictive drug he’s prescribed to, and he needs more, wants more of you.

He slips two digits into your drenched hole, filling you so full while his thick fingers curl and hit that spongy area that makes you see bright lights flash before your eyes. He revels in your moans, eliciting more with every touch and curl of his fingers, with every feverish lick to your messy center.

“Yeah? You like that, baby? Feel good?” Joel purrs while he watches you fall apart beneath his fingers.

“So good, Joel. Want you to - ahhh,” you whine as he pulls your aching bundle of nerves back into his warm mouth, releasing it with a pop as more slick covers his knuckles.

“Mmm, s’that right, sweetheart? Gonna cum for me? C’mon baby girl, go on and soak me,” he purrs.

You feel the white hot sensation taking over, feel his long fingers curl up to hit that spot again and again while he pulls your aching clit back into his mouth. And it feels so fucking good that you just can’t hold on any longer. “Joel, I’m gonna… fuck, I’m coming,” you whine as you release your pent up energy, soaking his knuckles while he works you nice and slow, licking at your core as the slick builds on his tongue, drinking you down till he soothes that aching need in his throat.

You come down slowly, feeling your body go through the tingling sensations that make you feel so alive. You’ve never had it this good before, not before Joel. He’s going to be the end of your demise.

You look down at him between your legs, fingers still curled inside your core while he slowly drags them out of you with a groan from your lips. He pops the digits into his mouth, sucking the sweet release while he moans your name. He looks fucking wrecked, his hair all tousled and messy, wide eyes blown out to black pits that want to devour you whole. The way he’s looking at you makes you think he’s not done with you, and he’s not. Oh no, he’s just getting started.

“Such a good girl for me,” he purrs, sliding his calloused fingers up to your hips while he unhooks your leg from his shoulder. “I’m not done with you yet, baby. Now, c’mere.”

He throws you over his shoulder, a surprised gasp coming from your lips as he takes you over to the velvet couch. He drops you on your hands and knees, not giving you a moment to breathe while he situates himself behind you and spreads your legs wide.

He takes a few seconds to admire your glistening core, sitting back on his heels as he rakes a hand slowly over his greying scruff, taking in the absolute beauty that sits before him. He’s never seen a sight like this that he goes head over heels for, sliding his tongue between his teeth as he whispers how fucking perfect you are.

He groans your name, dragging his thumb up and down your sticky folds while one hand spreads your cheeks wide. He says your name repeatedly, taking in the sight of you in front of him. He thinks you’re so fucking pretty, all messy and dripping just for him. He wants to just slip your scent, your taste into his own cologne, mix the two together until he can only smell you on his body.

He licks at your core, spreading you wide while he devours you whole. He pulls at your glistening clit, languidly circling the swollen bud that calls sinfully to him. He wants to give you all the orgasms, drink you down till you have nothing left to give, curl his fingers inside your heated core, work you over till the only thing you can say is his name through your pretty moans.

He thrives in the musk of you, the taste of your cherry lips, the sweet saltiness of your warm cum. If he could give it a name, he’d call you his special jasmine flower, known to be the sweetest, most fragrant flower in the world. That’s what you are to him. The rarest flower that ever came into his reach, his life.

He licks against your slick folds, working his fingers in and out of your delicious cunt, slurping on your sensitive mound while he drowns it in his own drool, lusting after you until you writhe beneath him and give him another mind blowing orgasm.

“Joel, I’m coming, I’m coming,” you cry, spilling yourself all over his digits and inside his heated mouth. He can’t reply, too busy drinking you down as he groans good girl through the taste of you on his large tongue.

He swallows all the slick between your thighs, holding you up together while your legs shake uncontrollably. You may have fallen apart on his tongue twice, but he still wants more. He’s greedy like that when something belongs to him. You’re his as far as he’s concerned now, and he always takes care of what’s his.

“Joel, wanna… wanna…” you stutter tirelessly, out of breath from the insane orgasm he pulled from your body.

“What do ya need, sweetheart? Use your words,” he coaxes, placing a hand gently at the small of your back as he strokes small circles into the heat of your skin.

“Your cock. Let me suck your cock, make you feel good, too,” you whine out, grinding your teeth together as he gently blows on your aching core.

“Not this time, baby. Later. Gotta take care of you first. This time I wanna have my way with you, want your cum dripping down my tongue, making my cock all messy from your sweet release. Wanna bottle you up and make you my own personal brand of whiskey,” he growls as he pulls his t-shirt over his head and frantically slides his jeans and boxers over his feet, disposing the sweaty material on the ground.

He hisses as he spreads the precum over his shaft, pumping himself a couple times before he grabs your hips and scoots you back, stifling a moan from your mouth as he plunges his massive cock into your throbbing pussy.

“Oh, shit. Joel,” you whine, filling the room with your sweet incantations while he fills you so full of him.

“Yeah? You like that, dirty girl? Takin’ this cock so good, squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight,” he growls, pulling your hair back as your head snaps up, his mouth meeting yours as he licks feverishly inside, swallowing your moans while he continues his frantic thrusts into your weeping pussy.

He pulls out from you, throwing you on your back while he hooks your legs over his shoulders, rutting back inside you as his cock gets covered in your sticky slick. You throw your arms around his neck while he finds your mouth again, licking inside, moaning your name on the tip of his tongue as he speeds up his thrusts inside you.

The sounds are obscene, the wet smacking noises of his hard cock drilling inside your drenched pussy reverberating off the glow of the pristine walls. He releases his mouth from yours, leaning back to take in the gorgeous view that’s you. You’re splayed all over the couch, your perky breasts bouncing up and down with every thrust of his cock, your eyes all glossed over and fucked out while he takes you nice and slow. He thinks you’re a vision, a full on masterpiece that deserves to be displayed in an art gallery, your mouth making that pretty O shape while you chant his name angelically.

“Know you’re close, baby. Squeezin’ me so tight, feels so good,” he moans through the grit of his teeth.

“Joel, I’m gonna… gonna… fuck,” you whine as you feel that all too familiar white hot sensation rush through your entire body.

“Oh yeah, baby. That’s it. Such a good fuckin’ girl. Go on now, soak this cock,” he coaxes.

He watches you fall apart beneath him, beautiful, glossy eyes rolling back as you drag your manicured nails down his back, giving him the prettiest moans as you clench around him and release your cum all down his quivering cock.

“Good girl,” he praises, talking you through your intense orgasm as he quickens the strokes inside you, reaching heights you never could without him, kissing your cervix with the tip of his cock. It feels so fucking good, and you just gave him the best three orgasms of your life. You’re exhausted, but you need him to finish. You need him inside you.

Sweat drips off his forehead, ending in his tousled curls as he bares his teeth, barely able to hold on any longer. “Baby, I’m about to cum. I can’t hold on much longer. Where do you want me, sweetheart? Where do you want me to spill?”

“Inside Joel, paint me white inside. Cum inside my pussy, please,” you beg.

He moans as he calls your name, giving you a couple more thrusts before he paints the insides of your thighs white with hot ropes of cum, throwing his head back as he revels in the ecstasy of filling you up with his seed, claiming you as his own.

He pulls out and twists you around, collapsing on his back against the velvet couch while you fall into his chest, his meaty hands holding you tight around the waist while you both come down from your intense orgasmic high. The room smells like sex and sweat, hints of vanilla and cherry flavored lips lingering around the room. It smells like heaven, Joel’s heaven.

Through the sounds of rushed breaths and tired bodies, he reaches up and hooks a strand of loose hair behind your ear, lingering his calloused fingers against your jawline while he assesses the beautiful starlights in your eyes. He thinks you’re the most gorgeous girl he’s ever laid eyes on, and now you’re all his.

You look at him just the same, memorizing the flecks of dark honey that make up his bright eyes, dragging your fingertips through his salt-and-pepper scruff, letting your other hand glide through his messy tousled curls. He may be your bodyguard who works for you, but now he’s so much more than that. He’s yours, and you’ll never let him go now.

“Still think this was a bad idea?” you ask with a raised brow, challenging him to say anything but yes.

“Too late for asking me that, sweetheart. I changed my mind. You’re jus’ what I needed,” he smiles, the flecks of his eyes shimmering amber as your own eyes sparkle with bliss.

“Glad you came around,” you giggle as he drags his fingers up and down your jawline softly.

“All ‘cause of a fuckin’ broken zipper. You know I can’t stop now, sweetheart? One taste of you and now I’m hooked. Afraid I can’t let you go now.”

You lean into his chest, giving him your best dreamy smile as you trace the ends of a tousled greying curl. “Then don’t. Be mine, Joel.”

“I’m all yours, sweetheart. All yours,” he whispers before he cups your face and brings your head down, meeting the plush of his lips as he kisses you nice and slow.

You melt into him, parting your lips so he can slot his way in, tangling his tongue with yours as you taste yourself in his mouth. You stay like that for minutes, getting lost in his soft touch, his musk, his dreamy eyes. You never want to leave this trailer, never want to be parted from Joel. The only question is, how will you ever be able to keep your hands off him in public?

You lean your head into the crevice of his neck, nestling up to his soft scruff that smells like him. You sigh and tangle your fingers with his while he holds you close to his side. “Guess we won’t see any more performances tonight?”

“I don’t know, baby,” he chuckles underneath you. “Think we need a shower and some food. Maybe take you for round two afterwards. But it’s up to you. We can either stay here or go watch more of the sets tonight. Whatever you want.”

You think it over, but ultimately decide on his first offer. “Mmm, I think I’ll go with the first pick. Rather be here with you, in your arms, where it feels right.”

He sighs, lingering a soft kiss on your cheek as he pushes back a falling curl. “Okay, beautiful. That’s what we’ll do then. You want pepperoni pizza? That’s your favorite, right?”

“Mhm,” you nod. “Sounds perfect.”

He chuckles, the chocolate flecks glistening in his pretty eyes. He looks so dreamy, almost unreal that he's underneath you, his skin glowing from the sight of you. “I’ve wanted you for so long, sweetheart. Can’t believe this is actually happening.”

“I feel the same, Joel. Thought you might’ve caught on sooner with all the flirting I’ve been doing, especially up on stage. I might love getting a crowd pumped up, but there’s nothing more I love than making you blush at the side of the stage.”

He tips his head back and laughs, his voice all deep and gravelly as he flicks his eyes back to you. “Oh, I caught on, darlin’. Figured you were tryin’ to get a reaction out of me, and you did. Now look at us,” he teases, cupping your chin with the palm of his large hand, causing tingles to run down your spine.

“Yeah, just look at us. A pop star and a bodyguard getting off on each other. Thought it’d only happen in my dreams,” you sigh, propping yourself up with your elbow on his sweat covered broad chest.

“Well, baby, it’s real. It happened. Reckon you’re mine now, yeah?”

Your eyes perk up, a huge smile glistening across your shiny lips as you nod your head. “I’m all yours, Joel. As long as you’ll have me.”

“Baby, I ain’t ever gonna let you go now. You’re all mine, and I’m gonna spend my days protectin’ and lovin’ this pretty pop star. That’s what you are, baby. You’re my shining star.”

“And you’re my knight in shining bodyguard,” you giggle.

“Mhm, sure am, doll. And I don’t plan on ever lettin’ you go.”

You fold back into his chest, pressing your lips hungrily against his. Eventually he carries you to the shower, helps wash off all the sweat and slick from earlier, until he takes you to your bed and makes love to you all over again. And it continues throughout the whole night, until both of you are passed out in each other's arms.

This is where you belong, in the arms of your fierce protector, your handsome bodyguard that you’re head over heels for. Your favorite brown eyed keeper.

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 5 months

Note

Can you do a Clark Kent, with a mate? Maybe she gets jealous of Lois but doesn’t know why; an to get over him she tries to go out with another guy but Clark is like no. Your mine.

.⋆｡Office Crushes｡⋆.

Alpha!Clark Kent x omega!plus size reader

Little bit of Bruce Wayne x plus size reader

Your best friend has an office crush that seems to be becoming something more, maybe you should get your own office romance but not because you’re jealous- obviously

Warnings: a/b/o, jealousy, mutual pining, idiots in love, little bit of angst, protective!clark, fluff

WC: 3.1k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

It was quite common for any office to have its workers develop a sort of infatuation with each other. A confined space where you spend upwards of 40 hours a week with the same people, feelings are destined to arise, especially when it’s such a large mixture of alphas, betas and omegas. Hormones tend to go wild.

You were proud that you had never developed an office crush, knowing how disastrous it could be if the relationship ended, but you doubted your best friend could say the same. Clark had a big heart that he always wore on his sleeve and tended to attract a lot of romantic interest from practically everyone in the office. And apparently, Lois Lane was the lucky one who finally caught his eye.

A strange churning in your stomach began as you looked over the wall of your cubicle and spotted Clark leaning on the small kitchen counter, head thrown back in laughter as Lois chuckled over her now full cup of coffee. You know you should have seen it from a mile away- they were constantly paired up for articles, their chemistry was unmatched and they were by far the most attractive people in the office. You had even teased Clark on occasion for how often he met up with her after hours for some new lead, calling them dates.

Evidently, you were right. And for some reason, it was really bothering you. You felt physical disgust as Clark bent down to whisper something into the smaller omega’s ear and down right nausea as she placed a hand onto his broad chest to steady herself.

You swallowed down the bitter emotions and forced yourself to return to editing your article though a sour taste remained on your tongue. Maybe it was finally time to get your own office crush and the perfect opportunity had just landed in your inbox.

‘Bruce Wayne Interview- I trust you’ll get this done professionally’. You bit your lip at the offer, not only would an interview with Gotham’s golden boy boost your career, but whenever you had encountered the alpha before, he had always asked you out and you had always brushed him off. It was a win-win for you, and maybe it would stop the inexplicable rage you felt when you looked up and saw the goofy grin on Clark’s face as he sat back down at his desk.

Your nose wrinkled as you caught Lois’s scent clinging to him. Your fingers flew across the keyboard as you quickly sent a response back to your boss, accepting the offer.

You just needed a distraction and then everything would go back to normal.

——————

The tension in the conference room at the top of Wayne Enterprise was so thick you swore you could cut it with a butter knife. You cleared your throat and tugged down your pencil skirt, over-aware of just how high it sat on your plump thighs as you reclined in one of the many expensive seats in the room.

Bruce’s eyes flicked down to where your hands were curled into the material of the skirt and then back to your eyes but not before stopping very briefly at your lips. “Mr Wayne-“ You began again, glancing at your notepad. The small talk had gone well as did the customary chit chat about any new scandal he happened to have instigated and the photos of the both of you for the article.

“Bruce please, I think we’re far beyond that now.” He winked and you swore that his tone held a bit of a teasing purr. Your stomach flipped at the blatant attention from the alpha but it quickly dropped as yet another wave of thick, bitter scent filled the room making you cringe away from the other man standing to the side.

Through a series of several unfortunate events, your usual photographer had fallen ill and his stand-in got hired from right under the company and left so the only person that even had the slightest bit of talent with a camera in the office was forced to come with you today for shots of the billionaire. And in the worst stroke of luck, that person happened to be the very man that ‘inspired’ you to take the job in the first place.

Clark shifted on his feet and you barely repressed an eye roll. He had been very vocal in his disapproval of the whole thing given how often the mogul had put the moves on you but none of his arguments had done anything to deter you, instead they only fuelled the fire.

Bruce’s jaw clenched and you watched in fascination as the muscles beneath his skin moved, although they were not nearly as impressive as Clark’s (you would never admit that out loud). “Well Bruce,” He beamed at you, “Wayne Enterprises has just introduced a new product line that promises to ease the severe heats often experienced by omegas, my question for you is, what about this product is so different from all others on the market that promise the same things yet all others have failed?”

The alpha leaned back in his seat, his muscular thighs spreading slightly, instantly drawing your gaze to the thick bulge that was perfectly hugged by the material of his pants. Your eyes immediately flicked back up to him but given the smirk on his lips, Bruce knew exactly what he was doing.

“I’m actually quite proud of my team for this, they’ve worked tirelessly on development for years and I believe that it really shows. While other products are usually prescribed by doctors in the forms of ointments and perfumes that mimic the scent of an alpha, which almost never work by the way, we have gone in a totally new direction. Instead, omegas can buy these pouches at any pharmacy and when heated, they give off the scent of a pup.” Bruce gestured to the small bags that were barely the size of your palm that sat on the table next to him. They gave the appearance of a miniature version of a microwavable heat pack but he was right, if you concentrated hard enough, you could smell the mixture of milk and flowers that all babies had.

“It is common knowledge that the presence of pups actually help to lessen the effects of a heat whereas the scent of an alpha is far more complex to manufacture and can actually make an omega’s heat worse if they don’t have any other-“ he paused then, his smirk growing as the room seemed to grow smaller, “-tools to help them through it.” You barely suppressed a squeak and quickly ducked your head as if you were checking your notes once more.

You gathered yourself for a moment then spoke again, missing the way that Clark was glaring at the other alpha over your shoulder. “And how affordable are these products?”

“Wayne Enterprises are donating 2 million to women’s shelters throughout Gotham and we plan to sell them for less than $10.” As if anticipating your next question, Bruce licked his lips and continued. “While it is not feasible to gain a profit from such a low price, I would rather give them away to the people that need it but I do have a board that I have to listen to… sometimes.” He winked at you.

Heat crawled up your neck and settled onto your full cheeks. You squeezed your thighs together though you weren’t quite sure if it was because you were attempting to feign arousal or keep him from looking up your skirt. You laid a hand onto your notebook, shutting off your recorder, as you leaned forwards and offered him your other one. “Thank you for being so open to this interview, you have been a hard man to pin down.”

You could feel the way Clark’s body seized as Bruce’s smirk grew and his eyes twinkled deviously. “If it’s by you miss Y/L/N, I would gladly be pinned down any time.” He shook your hand with a firm grip, letting the tips of his fingers brush against your wrist. “For an interview that is.”

He rose to his feet and politely helped you to yours, steadying you with a hand on your waist as you wobbled on your heels. Once he was sure that you were steady, he ducked down and grabbed one of the unopened boxes of Heat Helpers (quite the cheesy name in your opinion) and gave it to you, along with a small piece of cardstock. “Why don’t you take this, a thank you for a great conversation.”

You flipped over the piece of paper to reveal a phone number scrawled on in pen. You gave him a questioning look to which he chuckled. “My number, if you ever want to have a one-on-one with me, with or without the tape recorder.”

You swallowed thickly and stuttered out some kind of polite response before Clark ushered you out of the room, muttering under his breath about being in a time crunch. You were barely able to catch one last, “Anytime miss Y/L/N” before the heavy door slammed shut and you were quite literally pushed into the awaiting elevator by your friend.

As soon as the doors were shut, you were on him. “What was that all about?” You crossed your arms over your chest and gave him a scrutinising look. Clark refused to make eye contact with you, instead he stared at the elevator doors like he was willing them to open.

“He was flirting with you.” You rolled your eyes and looked away from the tall alpha. “And you let him.”

“So what? He’s attractive and available, as am I. It was only natural.” Clark’s shoulders tensed, his grip on his camera tightening until his knuckles turned white. The confined space was now filled with a bitter scent that made your stomach drop and your omega howl in displeasure.

“Why are you so concerned about this, Clark?”

The elevator doors opened with a ping and he quickly walked out. “It’s nothing.” He said and you knew you weren’t going to get anything else out of him until he decided he was done throwing a tantrum.

——————

“So have you called him?” Lois was leaning against the bar next to you, her drink half empty but the flush on her cheeks told you that it wasn’t the first one of the night.

“Called who?” She rolled her eyes like it was obvious.

“Bruce Wayne! He obviously wants you too, I saw the photos Clark took. He’s fucking—what’s the word— enamoured!” You scoff behind your tumbler of whiskey which you had been nursing since Perry gave it to you an hour ago. The whole office had gathered at the bar down the road for an end-of-workweek drink and against your better judgement, you had decided to join.

Clark had been convinced into joining a game of pool, leaving you without anyone to talk to but it’s not like he would anyway. For some stupid reason, the alpha had been giving you the silent treatment for days and it was really starting to piss you off. You regarded Lois with a look but she was far too tipsy to get it.

“He was just flirting, he does it with everybody.” You dismissed it but she scoffed.

“Then why did he ask Perry for your personal number?” Your head snapped up, your eyes wide. “Clark didn’t tell you?” Evidently, your wide open mouth and lack of a verbal response told her everything she needed to know. Suddenly, Lois was very sober, a serious expression on her face.

“We were in a meeting with Perry the day after the interview and Wayne just strolled in like he fucking owned the place. He said how great you were and that he was hoping to get your number for a follow-up interview sometime soon. Clark said he would handle it, I assumed that he would have talked to you.” Her gaze travelled over to said man. “Shit I guess he didn’t.”

You slammed back the rest of your drink and without any sort of conscious thought, stormed over to the group of men huddled around the pool table. “Where the fuck do you get off Kent?” You snarled. Immediately all of the men seemed to find their phones incredibly interesting.

“I’m sorry?” He asked in that way too polite way he did that really meant ‘what the fuck is the matter with you’ but you were having none of it.

“Why didn’t you tell me Bruce asked for my number?”

“There’s a lot of Bruces in the world, you’ll have to be more specific.” He dismissed.

Anger flared in your gut. “You know exactly what I’m fucking talking about.” You snarled, making Clark stand up straight and meet your eyes. In the dim light of the bar, his expression was far darker than you had ever seen before as aggravation rolled off of his powerful body in waves. “You had no right to keep something like that from me!”

“I had every right! He was just going to use you and then never talk to you again! I was protecting you!”

“I didn’t ask you to!” The bar went completely silent as Clark visibly flinched but you were far too upset to care. “You know what, I’m done.” You raised your hands in surrender as you turned and pushed through the stunned crowd, your anger slowly trickling away into sadness.

The night air was like a punch in the gut but it also eased the tenseness in your shoulders. Taking a deep breath, you willed yourself not to cry. It wasn’t like you were in love with Bruce, but even if you were, Clark’s blatant disapproval of him and his distrust in your decisions made you feel incredibly small. And it was breaking your heart.

He was your best friend, he was supposed to be supportive if not a little teasing about your choice in men. He was supposed to console you when things went wrong, not say ‘I told you so’. Why did he get to control your love life while you could only sit back and watch him fall in love with someone else?

Your feet carried you further and further from the bar as the urge to sob was quickly becoming overwhelming. “Y/N!” You turned in time to see Clark throw open the door, the light from inside spilling out onto the street as he endeavoured to chase you.

“Leave me alone!” You cried or at least tried to, but then suddenly, the air was knocked from your lungs and you were looking up at the stars.

The shrill screech of a speeding car came from somewhere on your left as bright headlights illuminated the mass of a man above you before the sound was in the distance and darkness folded over you both. His weight kept you pinned to the slightly damp grass and you had the vague thought that you must be in a park of some kind, even though just a second ago you were standing on a sidewalk- or was it the street?

“Are you okay?” That was Clark’s voice but he had been so far away from you. “Omega?” He sounded distressed and for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out why.

“Say something!” His huge hands were planted by your head and it was only when one of them cupped your cheek did you find your voice again.

“Clark?” His whole body sagged with relief and he let his forehead rest against yours.

“Thank god. I thought I didn’t get to you in time. The car came out of nowhere and you were so close.” You turned your head away from him, your eyes focusing on the bar… that was across the street… a block away. The glint of something in the grass catches your attention, Clark’s glasses.

He looked so different without them and all your confused mind could think was just how blue his eyes were when they were unobscured by the glass.

His button up shirt which was normally so perfectly done up was unbuttoned, exposing the tight material of something navy beneath. “What?” But you couldn’t get out anymore, not when he shifted his weight, exposing even more of what was covered by his shirt and you were stunned into silence.

The red ’S’ practically glowed as realisation dawned into you. His brows scrunched in confusion, following your gaze. “I- I can explain.” Your head spun as he yanked you to your feet, though his hands never left your skin like he needed the reassurance that you were still there.

“I was going to tell you but then I realised how much danger it would put you in and if you were hurt in any way because of me, I couldn’t even stand the thought. And then we had known each other for months and Lois said you would feel betrayed so I kept it a secret-“ You placed an open palm onto his chest, stopping him in his tracks. His mouth snapped shut with a click.

“Is this why you were acting so weird about Bruce? You thought he would hurt me because of you?” Your voice wobbled with emotions as your nails dug into his warm peck.

Clark’s growl was shocking in its intensity. The vibrations shot up your arm as the ground shook beneath your feet with its power. “No, he would never even dare to fucking touch you. He knows who you belong to.” Your heart skipped a beat, this possessiveness was nothing you had ever seen from the soft-spoken reporter before. You knew that you should find it disgusting considering how he had been treating you but instead your veins filled with warmth.

“And who is it that I belong to? There’s no claiming mark on my neck.” His grip on your hips tightened which should have been a warning but the anger was quickly returning now that the foggy haze of danger had passed. “If I can remember correctly, you’ve been courting Lois, not me.”

“I’ve been asking her for advice on how to ask you out!” He said, exasperated. “I just couldn't find the perfect time to do it.”

“You’re an idiot.” You retorted before grabbing his black curls in a tight grip and yanking his mouth to yours. His body tensed but then quickly melted into you, groaning against your lips.

Maybe you did have an office crush but it’s not like you’d actually admit it.

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f4ll-for-you · 7 months

Text

jealousy, jealousy

warnings: smut, degradation, slightly dark! rafe?, overstimulation

Three months you’d been dating Rafe Cameron, your best friend's older brother. After a year of pining after you, you’d finally given in and let him take you on a date, which of course, ended up with you in his bed the next morning. It took a month for you to believe he actually cared, given his fuckboy reputation that he needed to uphold. Luckily, you were happy to keep your relationship secret to avoid hurting Sarah’s feelings, she didn't get along with her brother, and if she knew you were dating him you were sure she would feel betrayed.

However, that was only the tip of the iceberg with Rafe's family. Rich, well connected, always throwing fancy dinner parties, nothing like the life you’d experienced growing up. To earn extra cash while at university, you’d often waitress at the parties, tending to Rafe's family and friends whilst they looked down on you, treating you like you were nothing and constantly forgetting your name. Yet another reason to keep your relationship secret.

Tonight, both you and Rafe were getting ready to go to the annual ‘Cameron Family Gala’, both to attend in very different ways. You arrived at the house, through the ‘staff’ entrance, dressed in a white shirt and short black skirt, your apron basically covering it. You smirked to yourself, knowing Rafe's eyes would likely be on you most of the night. You wished Sarah could be there, even if she was ‘one of them’ she always made things more bearable, but as usual she’d escaped to see the pogues.

As the party began to liven up, you circled the guests, handing out champagne from the tray you were carrying. You watched Rafe in the corner with his father, Ward watching him talk at Rafe as if he were a child whilst rolling his eyes, looking up to the ceiling as if to ask for help, anger coursing through his veins. Making your way over, you offered them both a drink, smiling politely at the pair of them, Rafe’s cheeky wink going unnoticed by his father.

You continued gliding around the party, slipping in between slightly drunk, wealthy men and women. Readying another tray of drinks, you recognised two familiar voices speaking in a hushed tone, angrily going back and forth in conversation.

“Rafe look, you are twenty now, you are to carry on my legacy and you must have someone suitable by your side to do it with,” you heard Ward whisper-shout.

“I don’t want to settle down, I’m enjoying myself,” Rafe said nonchalantly, enjoying winding his father up as usual.

“Anyway, there’s far too many options out there to settle for one,” he joked, making Ward scoff in disgust.

“There’s one now,” Rafe spoke, looking a tall blonde girl up and down, “I’ll be off.” He turned to smirk at his father before walking away, he was tired of doing everything his dad asked, and tonight, he wasn’t going to let Ward get to him.

Your heart dropped in your chest, you knew Rafe liked to keep up appearances, but you’d never had to watch it firsthand. A wave of anger filled your system, seeping through your body as your hands began to shake. You took a deep breath, two can play that game, you thought to yourself.

For the rest of the evening, you flirted with each and every boy you came into contact with. You smiled innocently at Rafe every time he noticed, watching him clench his jaw at your actions.

Once his friends took an interest in you, it was game over; Rafe stormed over to you, grabbing your arm tightly. He didn't care about the eyes of his family and friends staring at him in confusion as he dragged a waitress out of the large ballroom. “What the fuck was all that,” he growled at you, not even stopping to look at your expression before pulling you into the nearest room.

He let go of your arm, walking further into the room, running his hands through his messy blonde locks. “Are you going to answer me Y/N?!” he shouted this time, still with his back to you. You smirked, enjoying how riled up he got because of your actions.

“What did I do?” you shouted back, your anger from earlier refuelling. “What did you mean, Rafe, when you went off to ‘get to know’ that beautiful blonde earlier?” You asked, your words laced with jealousy.

Rafe turned, meeting your eyes, looking shocked for a moment, before his usual cocky attitude resumed. “We agreed to keep this secret, I was merely acting the part,” he remarked, smirking at the redness in your cheeks caused by your rage.

“As was I,” you spat, “so if you don’t mind, I’ll be getting back to my job.” Spinning around where you stood, hand reaching for the door handle.

Before you could turn the handle, a rough hand grabbed your ponytail, pulling you back into his chest. “You’re not going back out there until everyone realises you’re fucking mine,” Rafe whispered into your ear, his breath hot on your neck, as wetness pooled between your legs.

Keeping one hand tightly around your ponytail, his other hand grabbed your hip, guiding you towards the back of the sofa and bending you over it. Your cunt clenched with anticipation as he palmed your ass, ripping your skirt up in one motion, making you almost bare in front of him. “Already wet for me, little slut,” he purred, looking at the damp patch of your panties.

He slid one finger lightly up your clothed slit, making you stifle a moan, refusing to give him the satisfaction he craved. Rafe pulled his hand away in response, quickly coming down to slap your bare ass. You jolted at the action, only making you soak your panties more. “I will do this until you moan for me” he threatened, you clenched again at the thought, rubbing your thighs together for some much needed friction.

“So desperate, so stubborn,” Rafe crooned before landing another heavy slap to your reddened skin.

Two, three, four more came before you broke, whimpering at his touch. “Are you going to be a good girl for me now?” he asked, leaning down towards your ear as he spoke.

“Yes,” you whined, barely louder than a whisper, your eyes glassy with desperation.

Before you could even think, you felt Rafe shove his fingers into you and began to pump them into and out with precision. The familiarity of his touch brought you close to your first high and you bite your bottom lip to try and stop the noises you desperately wanted to make.He released his harsh grip on your ponytail to your throat, lightly squeezing each side. The combination of his long fingers curling into you and his hand around your neck had you seeing stars, your first orgasm approached as you moaned loudly, tightening around him, his hand dripping with your juices. Rafe brought his fingers up to his mouth, savouring your taste like fine wine.

He then knelt behind you, barely giving you enough time to recover before attaching his mouth to your centre, licking up the juices he’d missed. “Mhm no, Rafe, too much,” you whimpered in response, trying to pull away from the overstimulation.

Rafe moaned into you as he grabbed your hips, pulling you back into his mouth as he dipped his tongue inside you. You were sure his fingers would leave marks, just like he wanted. “Fuck Rafe,” you couldn’t keep your moans at bay as he kitten licked you clit, brining you towards yet another orgasm.

“So, fucking, perfect,” he spoke against you, the vibrations of his voice making you scream out in pleasure.

He added two fingers into you once more, curling into your sweet spot as he lapped and sucked at your clit in unison. Your body began to shake as you came, screaming his name as you clutched onto the back of the large sofa. “That's it baby, let them know who owns you,” Rafe spoke as you rode out your high.

Rafe unzipped his trousers, his cock slapped up against his chest, his tip leaking precum. You looked back at him, eyes wide knowing what he was about to do, already feeling exhausted from your previous two releases.

He pushed into your dripping cunt, giving no time to adjust to his size. The grip on your hips tightening as he pounded into you, the lewd sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. “Fuck, so tight, you were made for me princess,” Rafe moaned and his hand returning to your hair, pulling you back into his chest to find a deeper angle.

The new angle allowed him to once again reach your sweet spot. You could feel your cunt begin to flutter around his length. He moaned, relentless to chase his own release with a desperation to fill you with his pearly spend. Trembling, your climax washing over you, coaxing his own as he spilled into you. The pair of you scream each other's names in pleasure, forgetting the party down the hall.

Rafe pulls out of you gently, caressing your cheek. “Do you think now is a bad time to tell my father we’re dating?” he jokes, looking into your eyes. You look wearily up at him, a wide grin appearing on your face, “at least you’ve settled down.”

#rafe fanfiction #rafe imagine #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe x you #rafe x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe smut #rafe fic #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #dark rafe #rafe cameron x smut

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 6 months

Note

YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW GLAD I AM THAT YOUR WRITE FOR SPTO THANK YOUUUU

UGH okay, my craziness aside; could you try “I think I’m in love with you” with Matthew Patel? It doesn’t matter who says it, I jsut think it’d be adorable (I adore that funky theatre punk so so much <3)

Thank you so much and have a wonderful day/night!!

"Do it!"

"Come on, Lord Matthew!"

"We're getting impatient.."

"Maybe we'll go in and tell them ourselves-"

"Ladies, that's enough! I will tell them myself...i-in a minute. First, I need to rehearse what I'm going to say..I can't mess this up."

The demon hipster chicks could only stare at their master with blank expressions, knowing damn well that he was stalling the inevitable:

That being his confession to you.

You two go back as far as middle school, with you being the first friend he ever made who didn't mind his weirdness or mystical powers. Plus, you shared his admiration for the theater and dramatics when he started obsessing over those, becoming his number one supporter.

Until now, Matthew never thought he'd fall for you like he did Ramona. But he feared rejection, ridicule, or worse--the relationship being extremely short-lived and him never getting to experience a "true love's kiss".

Once was painful enough.

He couldn't go through that again.

Of course, his demon hipster chicks knew all about this and the months he's spent pining after you. As much as they didn't like you "stealing" away his attention...they realized you made their master genuinely happy.

And above everything else, they wanted him to be happy.

So they were thrilled when he summoned them, seeing that they were at the doorstep to your apartment and squealing upon noticing the giftbox he had for you.

Finally, he seemed ready to move on from Ramona.

Yet....he had spent ten solid minutes pacing along the floor and trying to hype himself up, his confidence totally shot, before he eventually stopped in front of your door again.

"Okay, I got it! Erm..."Roses are red, violets are--" no, that's stupid. It's too cliche! Everybody uses that!" Shaking his head, he tried to think of something else. ""Hey, would you like to be the Romeo to my Juliet--" ohh, what am I saying?! That's not romantic!! That would mean our relationship could end in tragedy...UGH!!"

"Don't overthink it, my lord." One of the demons whispered to him. "Just tell them how you feel."

"....it can't be that simple, can it?"

"....."

"..alright. I'll take your advice. I'm going for it." With a nervous swallow, he bowed his head and raised a hand to knock at the door-

Only for it to swing open, causing him to freeze in-place and look up to see you on the other side. He quickly hid both hands behind his back, hoping you didn't see the gift. "H-Hi.."

"Oh hey, Matty. Hey, girls." You smiled, looking past him and waving to the demons. But as your gaze shifted back to his, you wondered why he seemed extremely nervous. "Are you feeling okay?"

"..yeah. Just..wanted to see how you were doing." Pink was starting to dust his cheeks. "Did you uh...know I was going to come visit?"

"Um...yeah? You texted me earlier."

"......"

"And I saw you outside my window and figured you forgot the spare key."

"Shit..did I?" Matthew checked his coat pockets, feeling more embarrassed to know he forgot such a simple thing. All because he couldn't stop thinking about you. "I guess I did forget.......how about I go get it?"

You blinked in confusion. "Huh? But you're-"

"I'll be back, I swear-?!!"

The second he tried to run away, two of the demons grabbed a hold of his arms, dragging him into your apartment, while the other two guarded the door it in case he attempted another escape. He yelled in outrage, putting up a bit of struggle before they let go.

At this point, he was seething red, prepared to yell at them for their betrayal and the humiliation it brought upon him...

But they just winked and disappeared, the last one wishing him luck.

Of course.

"I can't believe it! The nerve of those-"

"What was that all about? You're acting kinda..odd, Matthew." Raising an eyebrow, you sat down on your sofa, having no clue why the man in front of you looked so flustered.

"I....have something I need to say." He decided to sit beside you, sighing heavily. "[Y/n], I think....I..I..."

"Yes?"

"...I-I think I'm in love with you!" Finally blurting it out, he closed his eyes and handed you the box, too afraid to see your expression. "I know it's sudden but..you've always been there for me. Ever since I found my passion for theater. Ever since Ramona dumped me...you were by my side. A-And I feel like I took that for granted. I thought I only wanted revenge against those who wronged me....but no. I want something better. I want love...and I want to be yours. So please...let me prove that I can be a good boyfriend and not evil!"

Part of him wanted to curl up and die as he continued babbling on and on about his feelings, thinking about the hundreds of other ways he could have done this.

He could flawlessly play the role of a love interest in a musical or play and move the audience to tears so effortlessly. But off-stage, he felt like a bumbling lovesick idiot who isn't making any sense to his crush..

There's no way you could love him back.

Not after seeing him like this.

Yet after feeling the box being removed from his hands, Matthew bravely opened his eyes, watching as you took out the black and red roses he put inside it. The thorns have been clipped off, allowing you to twirl the stems in your fingers for a moment or two.

Then you looked at him with the brightest of smiles, laughing softly. "Of course you'd give me roses, you dork. That's so....you." You set them aside before moving closer, taking his hands into yours. "I'm trusting you to uphold that promise."

His heart was soaring.

He must definitely be dreaming right now.

"S-So...it's a yes?"

You chuckled, nodding. "Yes. And...I promise to be with you for longer than a week."

That got him choked up. He couldn't say anything else in that moment, as his only response was pulling you into a tight hug and hiding his face in your neck.

Thank god he didn't ruin this.

You just smiled and held him close, relieved that he finally decided to try loving again. When he calmed down enough to look back up into your eyes, that's when you both decided to go for the kiss--just in case he had any more doubts in his mind.

And there were sparks galore.

#clanask #scott pilgrim x reader #scott pilgrim takes off x reader #spto x reader #matthew patel #matthew patel x reader #fluff #dialogue prompt

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etherealyoungk · 1 year

Text

third time's a charm - kim mingyu

summary: you and mingyu are rivals, having restaurants near each other and just hating each other's guts for wanting to be the top restaurant in the area. but life's not always fair and you and mingyu end up having to work together. a little bit of angst, spice, fluff, and mutual pining turns into a cute one-shot.

pairing: chef!mingyu x chef!reader

warnings: enemies to lovers kinda, fluff, angst, kissing, suggestive and suggestive language, implied smut, mentions of alcohol, use of curse words, and mingyu being an annoying ass but <3 he's so fine

word count: 6.5k // lowercase intended

a/n: a repost of my chef mingyu series as a one-shot. i had so much fun writing this, i hope you enjoy reading it.

chef!mingyu and you are rivals, having restaurants near each other and just hating each other's guts wanting to be the top restaurant in the area. but then one day you both get hired for a private event because the person who was getting married likes both of your food and couldn't choose. they asked if you both could maybe collaborate and work. you would have said no but the money was too good to lose out on. so here you are bickering with mingyu as you sit late at night in his restaurant trying to decide the menu for the wedding event. he'll just be so fucking cocky with a stupid smirk plastered on his face because he's just that confident about his skills and cooking and you both just can't seem to agree on anything.

"you're so annoying god, how am i supposed to work with you", you mumble. "come on baby, let's both put aside our differences and work like professionals hm", mingyu says.

"i swear if you stress me out i will kill you", you say. "ah don't worry, besides i know some ways we can destress", he says giving you a wink and making you almost choke on the water you were sipping on.

you both have to taste test the menu first before finalizing it so you head to Mingyu’s restaurant the next day and it’s just you two alone in the kitchen as you cook the dishes, mingyu is in charge of starters and mains while you were in charge of the two desserts. mingyu will not shy away from taunting you and just trying to flirt and mess with you because he's a jerk like that but fuck he looked so hot when he was in his element cooking. he tastes your dishes and will be surprised at how good it is. "it's pretty good", he admits. "duh what did you think", you reply annoyed. "thought it would taste like shit", he says and you smack his arm. "i told you not to get on my nerves", you warn and he just chuckles saying sorry as he licks the plate clean.

then on the day of the event somehow you ended up with missing ingredients so you had to make do with what you had, having a full panic attack as you try to stay calm and finish cooking in the time given. mingyu surprisingly wouldn't be a jerk that day and would come to help you re-plan your menu and dishes and once his service was over, he'd come and help you plate the desserts. finally done with the hectic day, you both head home and you end up crashing in mingyu's place because you had a little too much to drink. you would wake up wondering where the hell you were in the morning until you see a shirtless mingyu in front of you and the smell of something sweet in the air.

"are you awake baby? i didn't know if you liked pancakes or french toast so i made both", he says with a smile. you can't seem to remember anything from the night before but seeing mingyu shirtless and you in one of mingyu's shirts in his bed makes you start thinking things.

"did we...sleep together?", you ask and he just smirks. "why baby don't you remember?", he teases, putting the plate down on the table. "n-no", you mumble. "if you're teasing me i swear i will kill you", you say giving him a death stare. "i mean you were pretty much all over me last night", he says and your jaw drops. "liar". he shakes his head. "i had to lock the guest room and sleep because i was so scared", he adds and you roll your eyes. "but if you do want to sleep together, i'd be more than happy to oblige", he says with wink as he grins, leaning forward making your breath hitch. god, he was so annoying.

after you woke up in mingyu's bed that day you're just not able to stop thinking about him and it just annoys you even more because his stupid smirk is engraved in your mind. "if you want to sleep with me, i'd be happy to oblige?" that fucker. you mumble to yourself and head to the restaurant that day and try to tune out mingyu. but then just when you thought your day couldn't get any worse, it does. your ex-partner decided to give you a visit because they were 'missing you' and you're just even more ticked off because of the way they're pitying you and thinking your life sucks because they’re not with you anymore. the way they’d be just boasting about their life now and just thinking you didn't move on was infuriating.

"so did you move on from me? i know you loved me so the breakup must have hit you hard", they say, making you absolutely seeth with anger. who the hell did they think they were? just then you spot mingyu from the corner of your eye. you had forgotten you had asked him to come over because you had forgotten your wallet at his place and he offered to come to drop it off back to you that evening.

so you put on your fakest smile and do something stupid but desperate times call for desperate measures.

"baby, you're finally here!", you say loudly, walking over to mingyu as he comes up to you both. you latch your arm around mingyu's, leaning your head on his arm. "i was waiting for you", you add looking at mingyu as you bat your eyelashes at him. mingyu would just be so confused and literally, just be like wtf as he looks at you. you give him a small nudge with your elbow, as you side-eye your ex hoping he'll get the message and play along. and thankfully he does. he smiles, and his arm goes around your waist, pulling you closer than you already were. "were you waiting long? the traffic was horrible", he says. your ex just watches all this unfold. "oh, you should meet my boyfriend", you say as you look at your ex. they just gives you both a stiff smile. "we should head home soon hm, i have something special planned", mingyu adds, leaning in to kiss your cheek, catching you off guard. you ex excuses himself and finally heads off. you watch as he leaves, rolling your eyes.

"that asshole", you mutter. "who do they think there are huh, can't believe i actually dated a piece of shit like them", you add, clearly frustrated. a few more profanities leave your lips while mingyu just looks at you, amused at the situation he's been caught in. you don't even realize that you're still holding mingyu's hand until you feel him squeeze your hand ever so slightly. so you look down and look back up at him before letting go of his hand. not going to lie, he would be a bit :\ because of how fast you let go of his hand but he won't say anything.

"so i'm your boyfriend now hm", he says with that stupid smile as he raises an eyebrow. "noo", you defend and he'll pout. "kidding, anyways who was that guy?", he prompts. "my ex, that little shit", you say and mingyu can tell you're extremely annoyed. "here's your wallet", he says as he hands it to you, fetching it from his pocket. "thank you", you say, really grateful this time, because as annoying as he was, he was still a nice guy.

mingyu would offer to drive you home and you agree because it was raining and you didn't really have any other means of transportation so late at night. "i could really use a drink or two", you say as mingyu drives. so that's how you end up in a bar nearby, having a heart-to-heart conversation with mingyu - your rival in business and the guy to who you refused to believe you were attracted. and once again, you find yourself waking up in an unfamiliar bed, only to realize it's mingyu's bed...again. "fuck", you mutter as you try to get out of bed, but mingyu enters - shirtless of course.

"awake baby? i think i'm having deja-vu", he says, his arms crossed over his chest as he looks at you. "i'm sorry...you could have just dropped me home", you add. "but you basically passed out on the couch, how the hell was i supposed to drop you off home in that state", he counters. fair point. "okay im sorry. i'll treat you to lunch and dinner for letting me crash the night", you add and he smiles satisfied with the deal.

"so...do you remember what happened last night?", he adds, with a glint in his eyes. "hm what happened?", you ask, confused. you again have no recollection of the night before. he clicks his tongue. "im disappointed baby, i thought you would remember", he says as he walks up to the bed. "why...what happened?", you ask, unsure. "you really don't remember?", he frowns and shakes his head. "you don't remember asking me to sleep with you? i had to pry you off me", he says and you are horrified. "what…i would never....i didn't", you stutter. "hell you even tried to steal a few smooches". "stop lying i swear i will actually strangle you", you tell making him chuckle, showing his pretty smile. "no but you really did ask me to sleep with you baby", he says completely serious this time and you can feel your cheeks heat up because what the fuck. you really must've had too much to drink.

"it must've been a while since your last partner if you're so desperate for me", he'll tease. asshole. "i'll happily oblige if you ask me sober though", he adds with a wink making you whack him with the pillow.

you'll go home that day annoyed, hot, and bothered and won't be able to stop thinking about mingyu and his stupidly handsome face and body.

doesn't it suck to have the person you hate on your mind constantly? expect it wasn't exactly hate with mingyu. it was more how you just refused to believe you were attracted to him that made you think about him even more. not to mention you were business rivals, so you didn't want to do anything stupid.

it's been a few weeks and as much it pained you to admit it, you did wish mingyu stopped by but he hadn't in the last few weeks. and just as you were locking up and about to leave, you see a familiar figure strolling inside your restaurant - mingyu.

"what do you want?", you ask coldly, tired from the long day. "now is that how you greet a friend?", he asks, crossing his arms over his chest. you noticed how the shirt he was wearing just hugged his body and arms, showing off his biceps. and he was wearing glasses too. fuck he looked so hot tonight. you cleared your throat before speaking.

"im tired okay, what's up?", you repeat. "just came for dinner", he prompts and you're lost. "sorry what? we're closed", you say. "did someone forget they owe me lunch and dinner? how ungrateful", he says, shaking his head with a scoff. right, you promised him you'd treat him for letting you crash in his place.

"right...what do you want?", you ask. "i want you to cook me something that you love to eat", he asks. "i'll buy you something how's that?", you bargain. "no can do baby. or do you want the whole world to know that you're dying to sleep with me", he asks with a raised brow making you narrow your eyes at him. "you're such an ass", you mumble, purposely nudging your elbow into him as you walk ahead.

you lock up and mingyu would drive you back to your place where you decide to cook your favorite pasta for him. it was simple, easy to make, and super yummy too. mingyu would hang around in the kitchen as you started cooking, and maybe give you some unsolicited decor advice, making you roll your eyes. and you notice how mingyu's hands would just automatically start helping you gather ingredients or things - i guess that’s what happens when you cook for a living. you'd have to smack his hands off, telling him you'd manage to make him pout.

he'll lean back on the other end of the counter as you stand chopping some vegetables and doing some prep for the pasta. "so did your ex pay you a visit again?", mingyu asks, looking at you keenly. "that idiot did come in the morning again, and was asking where you were", you say. "what did you say?", "nothing, just that you had worked", you add. "but i don't think he'll come again, hopefully", you add.

"was he good in bed?", mingyu asks, like it's the most normal question in the world, catching you completely off guard. "excuse me? what kind of question is that?", you say, looking at him. "what, can't i know about your loser ex? i'm guessing he was pretty shit seeing as you've been dying to sleep with me", he adds with a smug smirk. as he pushes his glasses up. "what- firstly i am not dying to sleep with you and secondly i don't see why that actually matters to you", you say, getting annoyed. mingyu did an excellent job getting on your nerves.

"yeah so he was shit in bed", mingyu concludes when you avoid the question. "fuck you mingyu", you say, giving his a side eye. "oh, so you want me to? i'll gladly do it, just ask", he says nonchalantly. "like you're that good in bed either", you mumble to yourself but obviously mingyu heard you.

"is that a challenge baby? do you want me to show you", he asks with a raised brow. "whatever oh my god, just let me cook", you snap back at him, getting your focus back onto prepping for the pasta.

after a few seconds of silence, mingyu speaks up again. "baby if you need help, i'll be more than happy to. it feels awkward just standing here doing nothing", he asks again. "firstly, my name is -", you start, looking up to glance at mingyu. and maybe it was because you looked away for a second or because you were tired, your hand slipped and the knife sliced your finger. "OW", you yell, dropping the knife on the counter as you clutch your finger to your chest.

mingyu would be by your side in an instant. "what happened?", he asks and he gets his answer from the drops of blood on the countertop. "shit", he mutters. he can tell by the way your finger is bleeding that it's deep and bad cut. "where's your first aid kit", he asks urgently. "top shelf on the right", you mumble. he'll clear the countertop, pushing all the ingredients and chopping board to the side to make some space for you. you feel his hands on your waist as he gently hoists you up so you're now sitting on the countertop.

"here, let me see hm", he asks softly. you open your hands and hear him take in a sharp breath. it was pretty bad. you had cut not one, but two fingers and they were pretty deep slices, ouch. he'll wipe your finger with a wet cloth first. then he'll dab the disinfectant on, and you close your eyes because it burned like shit. "oww it hurts", you whine. "let me do it, i can manage mingyu", you huff but he won't let you. "don't - just let me help you".

he'll clean your other cuts and it just burns so bad you end up leaning your forehead on mingyu's shoulder, as he's standing in front of you. he'll gently bandage your fingers and make sure you were all okay. "done, you are okay baby?", he asks as you're still leaning your head against him. "hm", you manage to say. you lift your head up but you're still so close to mingyu, you gulp as you look at him. "sorry, i guess i was just tired", you tell softly. "you should have told me, we could have done this another time", he scolds. "i owed you though", you mumble, looking down. and i wanted to spend time with you.

"i'll be okay, it's no big deal", you add and you're hyper-aware of mingyu's hands resting on your thighs as he stares at you. "you're really stubborn you know", he adds making you scoff. "stubborn? me?? have you seen yourself, you're so damn cocky about everything", you counter. he won't say anything but he did love seeing you all feisty, he thought it was hot. "what can i say, i like being the best in everything i do", he counters, giving you a little smirk.

and you can't take it anymore. you couldn't take his stupid smile and how stupidly attracted you were to him. you couldn't take the tension anymore, so you just grabbed mingyu by the collar of his shirt and pulled him forward, kissing him. he would be caught off guard for a second but he'll smirk into the kiss, kissing you back as he moves his lips against yours. his hand moves up to cup your cheek as your fist where you held the collar of his shirt tightens, feeling giddy with the kiss. you pull away.

"we shouldn't be doing this", you say breathlessly. "give me one good reason why we shouldn't", he responds as he captures your lips again, his other hand going to wrap around your waist, pulling you closer against him. "fuck...because we're rivals and i'm supposed to hate you", you mumble between kisses. "let's just screw that and start over", he says as he leaves a trail of soft kisses on your collarbone. but your mind is too fuzzy to care anymore. you look at him, his lips pink and plump from all the kissing. he starts to kiss your neck, making you gasp as your eyes flutter close. he leaves a trail of soft kisses on your collarbone. "m-mingyu", you whisper. "hm tell me what you want baby", he groans softly, kissing up to your jawline as you grip his arm. "you're so annoying"softly, kissing up to your jawline. he moves his hand to remove his glasses when you stop him. "don't, i like how they look on you", you say, looking at him as you bite your lip. "oh really? how does it look on me?", he asks, fully knowing the answer but he just wanted to hear it from you. "makes you look so hot", you mumble against his lips, kissing him. he kisses you back as he moves his lips against yours. his hand moves up to cup your cheek as your fist where you held the collar of his shirt tightens, feeling giddy with the kiss.

you don't know how you made it to your bed, as mingyu hovers over you, his shirt thrown somewhere to the side. "i'll fuck you so good that the only name you'll remember is mine", he taunts, whispering in your ear before kissing you again. his cheeks flushed and his hair falling over his face as he looks down at you. with such passion making you dizzy.

you stir awake and open your eyes to see mingyu soundly sleeping next to you. his arm is lazily around your waist, his hair falling over his hair in a cute mess. the events of last night are still clear in your head. what was going to happen now? what were the two of you?

you gently move, trying not to wake up mingyu, but he stirs slowly beside you, his arm tightening against your waist as he pulls you closer. "five more minutes", he mumbles and you can't really do anything to get out of his killer grip, so you lay there in his arms, admiring his pretty face.

"your five minutes are up", you say, pushing against his chest to get out of his hold, making mingyu open his eyes. "you're so mean", he mumbles, letting you get out of his grasp.

your clothes are scattered on the floor from the night before and you reach out for the closest thing near you - mingyu's shirt. you can definitely see him check you out as you are draped in his shirt as he shows his pretty grin to you. mingyu makes breakfast and soon you both part ways, having to attend to the restaurant.

that night, you crash in bed and you can't stop thinking about what happened between you both. what was going to happen? how could you possibly stay friends with him? would it be weird? and mostly, you were scared. you still didn't want to admit how you felt about him. and after last night's events, you were even more confused and unsure. so you do the worst thing anyone can do - try to avoid mingyu and pretend like it didn't happen.

it's easy at first because you're both busy with your work. but mingyu would leave you occasional texts to which you would just reply with short sentences, making up excuses that you were busy or tired if he asked if you were free for dinner or coffee. but then mingyu obviously picks up on your behavior and maybe starts to feel bad. and he decides to finally do something about it.

you wrap up for the night and are heading out the door when you bump into someone since you were looking at your phone as you walked. "ouch-oh", you let out upon seeing whom you had bumped into - mingyu.

"hi", you say, gaining your balance as you step back. "hi" he says as he looks at you. "what's up?", you ask. "i'm here to get my second treat from you", he adds and when you give him a confused look he elaborates. "did someone forget they owe me two meals?", he prompts with a raised eyebrow. this annoying asshole.

"thought you forgot about", you mumble under your breath. "how could i, what do you take me for hm", he teases making you glare at him. since you'd been avoiding him, you forgot how cocky and annoying he was, even though you hated to admit how much it turned you on and how much you found him insanely attractive.

"what do you want? i'll buy you dinner", you tell. "nope, you've to make me something", he tells, not budging. "fine i'll make you ramen", you tell. he raises his eyebrows. "are you flirting with me right now?", he asks. you simply push past him and walk ahead mumbling under your breath as he laughs and follows behind you.

you both are in your apartment now. taking a pot, you fill it with water and wait for it to boil as mingyu leans back against the counter. you're about to chop some green onions when mingyu steps in. "let me hm, don't want you cutting yourself again", he says as he takes the knife from you, chopping them neatly. you just hoped he didn't bring up what happened last time now because you would die on the spot if he did that.

"so...can i ask you why you've been avoiding me?", he finally asks. your leaning against the other side of the counter now as mingyu turns back to look at you. great, here we go.

"what do you mean, i haven't been avoiding you", you lie, trying to sound convincing but mingyu can see right through you. "don't lie baby, it's very obvious", he says crossing his arms across his chest, which only emphasized his biceps even more.

"is it because of what happened between us last time?", he asks as he looks at you. the way he looks at you and waits tells you that he did genuinely have feelings for you. you liked him too, he definitely made your heart jump. but you both were supposed to be rivals and you're feelings were complicated, and you didn't know how to say it.

"i'm not going to lie, i did feel bad. i thought there was a spark between us you know", he says. the water is boiling now but mingyu didn't move and neither did you.

"yeah, it was fine. just... let's just treat it like a one-night stand and move on okay. forget about it", you tell, dismissing the topic and your feelings completely, and you didn't miss the flash of hurt that reflected in mingyu's eyes.

you come forward to put the ramen in the water along with the flavoring packets as you try to ignore mingyu's presence next to you. "wow", he finally says. "so that's all it was to you? it didn't mean anything? because from what i remember i clearly felt something and so did you", he adds, not letting go of the topic.

"it's just something that happened-" "did you want it", he asks cutting you off. the ramen is still boiling but neither of you pays attention to it anymore. "i mean yeah but that doesn't need to define our relationship", you tell. "what are we now?", you ask.

"i don't know but i thought it could be the start of something. but seeing how you just thought about it as a one-night stand and have been ignoring me ever since tells me all i need to know", he tells as he runs a hand through his hair. you finally turn back your attention to the ramen, which is clearly been boiling for too long. turning off the stove, you serve some for yourself and mingyu and push the bowl toward him.

neither of you talk as you both eat, mingyu inhaling the noodles. you can tell he's pissed off but he still helps you clean up before leaves, only telling you thanks for the ramen as he steps out the door of your apartment.

that week mingyu doesn't text you or call. it was selfish of you to think that he would. but still, you unconsciously found yourself waiting for his text or his goofy face to pop by your restaurant. and that's when you realized you missed him. you really did like him alot. that night after a long day and a long week, you find yourself drinking alone in the corner of a cute restaurant, just drowning in your sorrows. you were pretty tipsy at this point and some random person decided to sit next to you, annoying you and was trying to make small talk with you.

"can you leave, please? i don't think i know you", you tell but they don't seem to listen. that's when you hear a familiar voice. "i think you need to go", the voice says and you look up. "who are you?" "they're my partner", you hear the voice say as the person gets up, walking off as the person glares at him.

the mystery person who just saved you takes a seat opposite you and you stare at him trying to figure out where you've seen him before. "you look like someone i know", you tell, taking another sip of your drink, only to find the glass empty as you ask for another drink. "yeah you look like this guy mingyu", you tell and he chuckles because it was, in fact, mingyu who was sitting in front of you.

after taking a few sips of your refreshed drink, you launch into an explanation about mingyu...to mingyu because you're too drunk to realize mingyu is in front of you and you just needed to get things off your chest.

"who's mingyu?", he asks. "this guy who's super annoying but also so attractive. and i just fucked up big time with him. we ended up sleeping together but then i just told him to forget about it basically. and now i'm just going to die single", you tell. mingyu smiles softly at that. " but how do you feel about him?", he asks, curious to know what you really felt and thought about him.

"i do like him, even though he's too cocky for his own good and annoying, he's pretty cool. i can't seem to think straight when i'm around him. i was just scared to admit my feelings after and screwed up, causing a mess. but i really really do like him", you tell, as you down your drink. mingyu stops your hand when you ask for another drink. "i think you've had enough for tonight baby, let's get you home", he says and soon he's driving you back home while you're passed out asleep in the passenger seat of his car.

you stir awake in bed, your head heavy from last night's drinking. you open your eyes and look around. since when did you have yellow walls? you look around and get up, realizing this isn't your room, but why does it seem vaguely familiar? just then a head peeps into the room - mingyu.

what the hell? he sees you awake and gives you that toothy, stupid, pretty smile. "you're awake i see", he tells, crossing his arms as he leans against the doorframe. "you should just move into my place hm i can see that you love it so much", he adds, being sarcastic and teasing you. "why am i here?", you ask, confused, not being able to recall how or why you even ended up in mingyu's house. you're just hoping you didn't do anything stupid last night.

"bad memory again baby?", he prompts and you give him a small glare.

"shit", you mumble under your breath as you wrack your brain and try to recall last nights events. "sorry i keep crashing at your place", you add, feeling guilty. "i made breakfast, eat before it get's cold", he says before retreating back to the dining hall. you follow him after a minute and you're about to just walk away.

"it's fine, i'll eat later", you say but mingyu just puts the plate in front of you, guiding you to a seat and pushing you down to sit. "you're really going to refuse my world famous french toast?", he asks.

you take a bite and nod because it was actually very yum. "how'd i end up here anyway?", you ask, looking at mingyu. "you texted me", he says and you wait for him to explain more. "or like left me a few really misspelled drunk texts which i had to put together to figure out where you were". then you remember. right, that's what i was doing, trying to forget about mingyu, yet here you were at his house.

"and then you passed out in my car when i was driving you home and you wouldn't wake up so i had to take you back to my place", he explains between bites of his toast. you cringe at the memory. "sorry", you mumble out.

later that week you still can't stop thinking about mingyu and even more so. he was just so sweet and charming. and you missed him. you're laying down in bed and it's late. you're staring at the ceiling and thinking about mingyu and your feelings. what was i so scared off? was i going to push away somehow just because i was unsure and scared, and maybe lose out on something because of that? and then regret it. you didn't want to. you'd done that plenty of times before and knew how it ended. so you get up. you were not going to make the same mistake with mingyu.

you threw on a hoodie and shoes and took the bus, making your way to mingyu's house. you run from the bus stop to his place, not caring if people gave you weird looks. you were just hoping that it wasn't too late and that mingyu would still listen and maybe give you a chance.

you run up the stairs not caring to wait for the elevator and ring his doorbell, leaning your hand against his door as you catch your breath. the door opens and you lose your balance, falling right into mingyu's arm. he catches you. "woah woah", he says seeing you. "y/n?", he asks, seeing you breathless. "are you okay? did something happen?", he asks again. you step inside, the door closing behind you.

"let me get you some water and-", "i like you too okay", you tell, catching him off guard and he just stares at you. "i like you a lot mingyu. i was just scared of my feelings and pushed you away and i was an idiot but now i realized now. i'm sorry about the other day, i shouldn't have said that but now i can see it, that i really like you", you continue in one breath as you look at mingyu.

mingyu falters, trying to hide the smile that so desperately wants to burst across his face. "damn, i didn't think you'd be so upfront about it", he tells as he smiles at you finally. "so you finally decided that you like me huh", he teases, taking a stride ahead as you take a step back until you're backed up against the door. mingyu stands in front of you, his arms on both sides of your body. he leans in ever so slightly. "y-yeah", you reply softly as you look at his lips.

mingyu smiles and you can't take it anymore. you lean forward and kiss him, melting right into his arms as his hands move to your waist, pulling you against him. god you had missed this. his lips were soft and they moved against yours making you dizzy. "i missed you", you whisper against his lips and he lets out a soft grunt. "me too baby but i knew you'd come around", he says. he sees your furrowed brows and realizes you didn't remember the drunk confession you had made to him.

"you don't remember? that night you called me over and like told me everything and confessed when you were drunk. i was just waiting for you to tell me when you were sober", he tells, kissing your jaw. "i really need to cut down on alcohol", you mutter and he chuckles. you find his lips again and kiss him. "you're really darn stubborn you know", mingyu tells you once he breaks away making you whack his arm.

he grins as he chases after your lips again, guiding you to the couch, pulling you on top of him, never once breaking away, making you breathless once again. "you now owe me another meal", he mumbles between kisses. "hm", you mumble, pecking his nose.

"be my boyfriend?", you ask, looking at him and he grins at that word. "whatever you want baby, i'm all yours", he tells as he kisses you again and you get lost in the feeling of his kisses and how his lips feel on yours.

it's been about three months since you and mingyu have been dating after you finally came to your senses and finally acknowledged your feelings about him. and honestly you were so happy. mingyu was sweet, funny, honest, passionate, and still annoyingly attractive but who were you to complain because you had him all to yourself now.

you're at mingyu's place because you're finally keeping your end of the deal and cooking another meal for him because you still owed mingyu one last meal, and he wasn't going to let you forget about it. after months of nagging and forgetting, remembering and nagging again, here you are, cooking him a meal.

"i really didn't think you'd make me cook for you again after i admitted how i felt like that's just petty", you tell. "we made a deal hm and it still has to be fulfilled", he counters. "i was glad you forgot about it...until now", you mumble and he chuckles.

you had prepared pork tonkatsu with some sides and you set everything on the table. "looks good", he says. "of course, this is like my specialty", you tell proudly with a smile. you watch as mingyu takes a bite and chews. "it's...better than i expected", he admits and you smile. "see, everyone loves it"

oh, and mingyu still loves to tease you about how you were 'playing hard to get' on purpose. "you know i still don't get why you hated me", he asks after dinner, where you both are sitting on the couch, having some cake mingyu bought.

"i didn't hate you", you defend. "liar, you totally hated me like i swear i saw lasers shooting from your eye the first time we met", he counters and you roll your eyes at his exaggeration.

"i just...i don't know, i thought you were so full of yourself and too cocky...and too good looking", you tell mumbling the last part. "hm what was that baby?", he prods, as he puts his plate down. "nothing", you tell. "speak up baby", "that you were too good looking oh my god", you tell, annoyed.

''you left out the most important part". "what?", you ask, confused. "that you were dying to sleep with me", he completes, with a stupid smirk.

"mingyu!", you exclaim, whacking his arm as he laughs. "i was not okay", you tell, putting down your plate too. "i just-" "was so desperate for me", he says, finishing the sentence for you, making you glare at him as he leans closer, wrapping his arm around your waist as he pulls you closer to him.

"you're so annoying", you huff. "only for you", he replies, as he leans in to kiss you and you get lost in the feeling of his lips on yours.

"you need to cook me something next time", you mumble as you pull away. "hm whatever you want", he says as he chases after your lips again, making you melt in his embrace.

taglist: @joshuaahong @naaaaafla

i'd love to know what you thought :) reblogs appreciated <3

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iiwontgiveuponmilkk · 7 months

Text

Amortentia | F.W.

summary: fred and george open their shop and she's late to the grand opening. she finds ginny and hermoine standing by the love potions. she uncorks one to make the girls feel better, but she's shocked by what she smells.

word count: 1523

warnings: fluff, one mention of drinking

notes: since this was winning the poll, here you are ;)

Her day did not start how she hoped it would. She had taken the day off, but the world had other plans. She had been called into work at 3AM, unable to say no. She told her supervisor that she absolutely had to leave before nine, but she ended up being there until a little after ten. She had rushed home after her shift. She intended on going straight to the shop, but she looked like hell. She hurried to get changed and make herself look presentable to the public. Seven hours at the hospital had left her hair a mess, and it wasn’t easy to tame. She ended up pulling it back in a braid, smoothing her hair the best she could. She didn’t bother trying to cover the dark circles under her eyes, it was pointless. She had stopped for a coffee on her way to the shop, needing as much caffeine as she could to stay awake. She hurried down the sidewalk, practically jogging. She grinned when she saw the shop, the boys really weren’t ones for anything subtle. Walking into the joke shop was like something out of a movie. It was lively from the second the twins had opened the doors. She had been caught up, not able to make it right when they opened. She found herself wishing she was here when they opened the doors. It was almost ironic how magical the whole scene was. She promised her best friends that she would be there as soon as possible. She brought her coffee to her lips, forcing herself to only sip it. If the caffeine couldn’t keep her awake, the energy in this shop definitely could. It was buzzing with life and laughter.

She smiled to herself as she looked around. Kids were running around the shop, looks of awe on their faces. Teens were eyeing candies that would definitely get them out of class. She forced herself not to shudder at the many memories of the prototypes for all of those candies, and the time she accidentally ate a fainting fancy. It took mere seconds for her to hit the ground, yelling at Fred and George when she woke up. She found herself overwhelmed by a sense of joy for the twins as she looked around trying to find them in the crowd. The shop was packed, she figured it would be. She was so proud of both of them. She finally spotted the two, buzzing around the shop, talking to almost everyone as they zipped around. She figured the twins would find her soon or later, not wanting to interrupt them as they hastled a group of what looked to be first or second years.

She spotted Hermoine and Ginny at a display of what looked to be love potions. She had to hand it to the twins, the display would easily draw anyone in. It was gorgeous. She made her way through the crowd and greeted the two girls. "What are you two up to?" She asked, picking up a heart shaped vial, turning it over in her hand. "We're just looking." Ginny mumbled, her cheeks slightly pink. She let it slide, already knowing what they were doing. She knew Ginny had a crush on Harry, and she knew that Hermoine was pining after Ron, even if she would deny it. "Well, I'll just look, too." She winked, uncorking the vial. “I’m sure they won’t mind.” She brought the vial up to her nose, freezing at the smell. Vanilla, pumpkin juice, floo powder, and cedarwood. She corked the vial, slowly putting it back on the display. She looked up to the two girls, hoping her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt. Ginny gave her a knowing smirk, but Hermoine looked clueless. “What did-?” Hermoine started to ask, but was cut off by the twins. She felt her cheeks burn a little hotter, causing Hermoine to smirk. That partially answered her question.

"Hello ladies. Love potions, eh?" The twins said in unison. Her cheeks burned as she met Fred's eyes. Oh, for merlin's sake. "They really do work!" Again, in unison. The two girls wandered away, putting the potions back. George was quickly distracted by a group of young wizards, leaving her and Fred alone. She tried her best to avoid his eyes, hoping her blush would fade. "I'm sure you won't be needing that anyway." Fred slung an arm over her shoulder, "Glad you're here." He gave her a small squeeze. She leaned into him, fiddling with her sleeves. "Quite honestly, I might. You seem to be quite thick headed." She bit her lip, glancing around the shop. The silence that fell over them was deafening in the loud shop. “Uh, anyway, I do have to get back. I took an hour so I could come down.” She finally looked up at Fred, only to find him already looking at her. “What time are you off?” She noticed a faint shade of pink across his freckled cheeks. Maybe he wasn’t that thick headed. “6ish? I’m covering for Lottie so she can get some rest. We’ve been beyond short.” She fiddled with the hem of her sleeve, trying her best not to seem nervous or utterly embarrassed that she not-so-subtly told Fred she liked him. “We’ll be done around 7. Can I stop by?” Fred gave her a hopeful look. She fought the smile tugging at her lips. “Since when do you ask before you just show up? You know you’re always welcome.” She gently nudged him with her shoulder. “Sooo, is that a yes?”

She arrived home earlier than she thought she would, Lottie came back after a ‘four hour power nap’. She took the extra time to relax. A long, hot shower followed by a glass of wine and her favourite satin slip. She had contemplated not wearing pyjamas, but she did anyway. If it were anyone besides Fred stopping by, she would’ve grabbed a jumper and leggings, but Fred had seen her in a lot of scandalous situations over the years. She was curled up under a blanket on her sofa about to doze off when a knock sounded at her door. She reached for her wand, haphazardly flicking it, hoping it would actually open the door. She heard the door shut, followed by footsteps coming up the stairs. “I’m offended, couldn’t greet me at the door?” Fred asked, feigning a hurt tone. She pushed herself up at the sound of paper crinkling. She gave Fred a confused look, but a smile graced her lips when she noticed exactly what he was holding. “How rude of me! I didn’t know you were bringing a poorly wrapped gift.” She teased, patting the spot next to her. She watched Fred as he moved across the room. She reached out, tugging on his coat as he crossed in front of her. “Take your bloody coat off.” She murmured. A small laugh came from him. “Hold this then, bossy.” He pulled his coat off, laying it over the back of her sofa before sitting next to her. His hand clasped over hers as she went to shake the paper package. “Just open it.” He laughed. “And I’m the bossy one.” She mumbled, narrowing her eyes at him. Fred leaned back, throwing his arm along the back of the sofa behind her. She pulled the twine and began unfolding the paper. She felt her cheeks heat up when she saw what he had wrapped up. She took the heart shaped vial in her hand, turning her whole body to Fred. “You’re a bloody idiot.” She gave him an exasperated look. “Merlin, read the label, love.” He laughed. She let out a huff, looking down at the label. The original label had been peeled off and was replaced with Fred’s handwriting. The label had been replaced with a description of her perfume, the smell of her shampoo, the tea she always drank, and what could only be described as the smell of St. Mungos when you walked in the doors. “You could’ve just got me flowers.” She mumbled, peeking up at the red-haired man sitting next to her. “Or, I don’t know, asked me on a date anytime in the past two years.”

“You said you might need it.” He teased, his arm falling around her shoulders and pulling her into his side. She leaned her head against him, pulling her blanket over his lap. He pulled her closer against him. “Do I?” She whispered, turning the vial over in her hands. Fred pulled away from her, bringing his hand up to her face. His fingers curled under her chin, gently pulling her gaze to his. His thumb brushed over her bottom lip as he gave her a small smile. “If I ever say yes, I want you to force me to drink that.” He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. Her eyes fluttered shut as she kissed him back. She moved his lips against his, reaching up to tangle her fingers into his hair. She pulled back, resting her forehead against his.

#fred weasley #imagines #one shots #harry potter #one shot #harry potter imagines #harry potter one shots #iiwontgiveuponmilkk #fred weasley x reader #imagine #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley smut #george weasley x reader #george weasley oneshot #george weasley

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vagabond-umlaut · 7 months

Text

gesundheit

you deem gojo to be the most stubborn nurse you've ever seen. you suppose you're the most stubborn patient gojo's ever seen.

but what you don't know is you both are the most caring, and the most idiotic, couple of best friends [or perhaps... something else] anyone's ever seen.

▸ student! gojo satoru x student! gn! reader; sickfic; mentions of flu & the medicines treating it [i wish i could include their composition too but no :(((]; a brief appearance of yummy chicken soup; gallons & gallons of tooth-rotting fluff; one sexual innuendo; ETERNALLY PINING 'TORU & ETERNALLY OBLIVIOUS SHORTIE ARE BACK!! :D

▸ belongs to series we're the summer to our winter rain but you can read this as a stand-alone if you wanna!

▸ the gif, divider and characters used ain't mine. please don't plagiarize, translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

obdurate, obstinate, bull-headed, pig-headed—

you reckon there's no word in the lexicon of any language, from any corner of this world, that can adequately describe the boy crouched before you.

furrowed brows barely visible from behind the unkempt white bangs, gojo shoots you a woefully concerned look, so much so that it makes you wanna smack it right off his face– and says, "your temperature is still above 100, shortie. you sure you took all the medications right on time?"

"i did," you grit out through clenched teeth and a hoarse throat before a fit of cough racks through your warm body, making you clutch onto your blankets for dear life while the airways fight to expel the irritants into the tissue you've pressed over the lower two-thirds of your face—

a painful battle which continues for a good portion of a minute or two before ending– temporarily— you toss the tissue into the overflowing trash can few feet away and return to glaring at your best friend, with a very exhausted, very frustrated sigh.

gojo's shades glint back innocently in the low light of the television as the boy dutifully places the thermometer in its box then moves to put the lids back on the tupperware he brought you dinner in.

you sigh yet again, wrapping the blankets tighter round yourself.

"sometimes, i wonder if you ever learnt to read, y'know?" you mumble in a soft voice, yet its tone mad enough to make him flinch as he rises from the carpet– having cleared the center table of the remainders of the chicken soup haibara made for you– only to cover it a tiny second later with anti-pyretics, cough syrups, nasal decongestants, inhalers-

gasp of shock worsening into a scratchy cough, you wheeze out, "did you really not read my messages, 'toru? i asked u to leave my soup at the doorstep but you warped right to the centre of my living room— i also asked you not to buy any medicine for me, i already bought them today, but- but- you literally bought the entire medicine shop for me!"

"yeah. and?" the white-haired boy retorts, short and sweet with that eye-crinkling beam of his– one he knows never not works on you, "it isn't like i don't have the means to afford it. and as for your orders via the messages..."

he trails off, shooting you a wink as he moves to plop down near your feet on the sofa and drawls, "i've always been a brat. why don't ya put me back in my place, huh?"

in his place... don't tell me this idiot's speaking of...

"is that supposed to be a bdsm thing, satoru?" you inquire, genuinely confused. concerned. "and you should raise your standards, y'know? thinking a person sick and dying from a flu to be attractive enough to apply a pick-up line on them; i hone– hey, no, why the fuck are you—"

"scoot. over."

neither gojo's stony tone nor his pinched features brook any room for you to disagree, yet you decide not to be held back by such, legs and arms struggling to free themselves from the blanket to push the way too tall figure squeezing you into the sofa as he lies down beside you.

not even a moment passes before your blankets are rudely ripped off your body, then dumped on the floor beneath. swallowing back a sigh of relief– the fan feels so good!– you muster a glower to shoot at your best friend.

earning an eyeroll and a huff, you know are fond, in reply.

"the paracetamol will be kicking in soon, and you'll start sweating like hell then," the boy explains, plucking his shades off and placing them on the table beside, "and that sweat needs to get evaporated asap for your fever to reduce asap— which won't happen if you stay swaddled in your blankets. didn't ya know that, shortie?"

your fever-stricken mind didn't until now, but you decide not to voice the fact out loud, just to not appease the smug grin on that bastard's face.

instead, you retort, "but don't you know staying in close contact with a sick person, taking no preacutions, can make you fall ill too?"

"nah!" gojo shoves your concern away with a dismissive shake of his head, "i'm not one of the strongest duo for nothing, you know? them weakass flu viruses can do nothing to me."

then adds, swiping a calloused palm over the skin of your forehead— cracking a smile, you realize, is 'cause he finds it sweating, "moreover, you're sick, shortie— you don't think i'm gonna leave you to take care of yourself, all alone with no one to help, do you?"

you don't.

of course, you don't, knowing who your dearest friend is— a very very stubborn boy, a store of immense power, but most importantly— the holder of a heart made from the purest of pure gold...

a half-hearted ugh is the only response you decide to grace his query with, not really minding when the boy ruffles your hair and pulling the thinnest of the blankets over you both, shifts so that he is now on his side with an arm tucked under his head, while you remain squished in between him and the sofa, face nearly pressing into his shirt-covered chest.

allowing a beat to pass, you peer up at him, mumbling tiredly.

"but why are you sleeping with me here, 'toru? go to one of the rooms and sleep in them. your legs will hurt a lot tomorrow, if you keep them dangling like that."

"let them," gojo smiles, wrapping a loose arm round your midsection, "it's more important for me to stay close to you to know when you're feeling sick and when you're not- or do you wanna make me sleep on the floor? i can do that for you."

"i am not saying this for me, 'toru," you grumble, inching closer to him despite your brain barking opposite instructions at you, "it's for you– i move a lot when i'm asleep. you won't get even a wink of sleep."

your best friend's lips lift knowingly. "why do you think i trapped you like this, hm?"

your zeal to dissuade him, itself fades a little. still, you persist, "i also tend to mumble in my sleep. won't you find that creepy?"

"nothing's creepy if it's in your sweet voice," he answers with a very... uncanny smile then rushes to add with a visibly exhausted sigh when you shoot him a frown, "i've got earplugs in my bag. i'll use them if it's too unbearable for me."

"tch!"

the battle of talking him out of this seemingly- definitely lost, you tsk and move to shut your eyes, finally letting your ailing body to listen to the call of sleep— before your eyes fly open again— a brand new idea whirring to life in your mind.

"but what if i start sneezing, or worse, coughing in the middle of the night? what are you go—"

"shut up," gojo shushes you, pressing your face into his shirt by a firm hold on the back of your head. you make a yelp of protest but it goes ignored by him as he continues, voice dropping to a pleasant rumble.

"and in case you start sneezing or coughing, i'm gonna wake up and take care of you and will stay awake till you're perfectly okay and fine— is that clear to you, shortie? taking care of you is only why i'm here tonight— why else would i bother myself with a snot-nosed person?"

his remark makes your fingers want to pinch his sides hard– but you stop them— choosing to let them draw nonsensical designs over his back, instead. a barely-there shiver passes through his body, you feel it, the same moment he removes his hand from the back of your hair to keep it in between your shoulder blades, lightly pressing, loosening the knots there.

yawning a little, you nuzzle into him at the comfort his action gives, then blink a pair of bleary eyes up at him, "do you know how much i adore you?"

curiosity and delight dimple his cheeks in a smile, clear as day for you to see. he asks, "you do?"

"mmhm," you don't waste even an instant in humming your assent, the relief brought by the medicines and gojo making you slowly fall into the grasp of slumber, "i really do. you're very very very precious to me and i adore you so much, 'toru. you're the best."

"i'm very happy to know that," the boy murmurs in a tone way too soft for him, but your slowly ebbing consciouness doesn't let you dwell on it for long— a smile shaping your lips at his next words, "and i too love you very much. i lo-"

he stops abruptly, making you frown up at him, worried— only to find him wearing a bright grin on his face. something tells you he is hiding something— his eyes are too nervous for a bragging person as him...

deciding not to pay it any attention, you pucker your lips into a pout.

"heyyy," you whine, "finish your sentence, 'toru!!! you can't leave your darling best friend hanging like thattt!!!"

the tension in his facial muscles reduces a pinch at your demand. the boy's grin widens, glowing even brighter to your tired eyes than those led-like blue eyes of his in the dim lights of the room.

thumbing your cheek lightly, he gives into your urging. "okay, fine— i love my darling shortie the most in this world. so much so that there is no one in this world who can love you as much as i do," he says in a gentle whisper, then adds— face growing that same strange smile as before— "my beloved best friend... now does that make you happy?"

the abrupt change in his tone to an oddly cheery quality as he makes his query is more than enough to give you one hell of a whiplash. you quickly sidestep it– filing the many queries it brings, away to be dealt with on a healthier day.

a brief shiver sending you press yourself closer into his comforting self, you close your eyes and mumble into the fabric of his shirt, "it makes me the happiest... thank you, 'toru. i too love you the most."

a tiny beat passes before you feel a feather-light kiss landing on your hairline— and that's the last thing you notice, before your drowsiness finally claims you, lulling you to a restful sleep in the safe embrace of your dearest 'toru.

▸ IMPORTANT NOTE: whatever u do, pls don't be as dumb as 'toru or shortie here!! if u r the one suffering from a flu or if u r the one taking care of a person who has flu, pls take the required precautions, and take care of urself and the ppl around u! love u sm!

[as a med student, it literally pained me to write these two being so stupid & careless when dealing with an illness as infectious and irritating like flu... but oh well. anything is possible in fiction, right? 🙃]

▸ masterlist

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #kit posts 📝

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heliads · 7 months

Note

lorenzo berkshire x reader? where it is just fluffy and both of them are hopeless romantics and the slytherin gang is getting annoyed with how much they are pining?

BTW LOVE YOUR WORKS!! SERIOUSLY YOU WORK SO INCREDILY HARD YOU DESERVE A LOT MORE THAN HEARTS ❤️❤️

'like nobody else' - lorenzo berkshire

masterlist

To be a Slytherin is to simultaneously want for everything and give up nothing. You wish for the top grades of your classes, but skive off studying to hang out with your friends. You desire glory, but ignore the burden of playing by everyone else’s rules. And, most pressingly of all, you want Lorenzo Berkshire to love you, but never want to say a word to him about it.

It is the wanting, you think, that will finally do you in. You want Lorenzo more than you’ve wanted anything before. Every conquest before this, every clutch at a legacy, all fades to grey in the face of a boy like that. And what a face indeed– you’ve seen it smile at you, wink across a crowded room, whisper your name under a caught breath, and you never want to stop looking at it, at him. You have known Enzo since you were small. If all goes well, you’ll be with him until you’re old and grey, too.

The problem with Lorenzo is that he’s your friend. It would be easier if you had never known him at all, you think. If he was a stranger, you might never have fallen for him in the first place. You could have seen him walking down the street, admired him momentarily, and then been able to move on with your life. Once you met him, though, you couldn’t help but love him. You were trapped from the day he introduced himself.

If he was a stranger, even if you did love him at first sight, you wouldn’t have been afraid to lose him. You could have offered up a pickup line like Pansy or Astoria on any boy they thought halfway decent, knowing that the price of rejection would only be a lost opportunity with someone they didn’t care about. Your friends can laugh in the face of boys they would normally ignore, but you can’t pretend you don’t think about Lorenzo. That would be even more impossible than being able to give him up.

This, in the end, is what stops you from confessing your feelings. If Enzo liked you back, he would just smile at you like he does when you get a perfect score on a project you did together for school, or when you choose to walk next to him instead of anyone else in your emerald friend group. He would love you, and you would know it, and for once in your life, the thought of Enzo hooked on a girl wouldn’t cut you to the core because that lucky girl would be you.

If, however, Enzo didn’t feel the same, that would change everything, and make what had once been glorious a terrible thing indeed. Everyone says that you can ‘just be friends’ with someone even if a schoolgirl crush is one-sided, but they’re lying through their teeth. Lorenzo would slowly but surely drift away from you, and instead of running to him on bad days and long nights, your only comfort would be the ghost of the time when he used to trust you unconditionally.

Telling Enzo you loved him could destroy you. Lorenzo is your best friend, your favorite. He knows you better than anyone here, holds more of your secrets locked away in his chest than even the girls in your dorm. All of your secrets, that is, except one, the worst of them all: even when Enzo offered you the best friendship in your life, you only ever wanted more. Call it a Slytherin’s fatal flaw, call it greed or ego or anything you please, but in the end, no amount of self reflection will save you from the fact that you have finally craved more than you could ever have.

Enzo may not know, but your friends apparently caught on a long time ago. They say it’s insane how he hasn’t picked up on it yet, then pause and look at you with these know-it-all stares. You’re aware that you’re rather hopeless, as Blaise put it one day after getting sick of you daydreaming about the boy you’ll never have instead of working on the Transfiguration essay the two of you were supposed to be completing together, but if you could cut off your feelings, you’d do it in a flash.

The only problem, of course, is that it’s impossible to get your heart unstuck from Enzo. He’s ridiculously charming, always offering you his coat or scarf whenever there’s even the slightest hint of snow, or just so happening to take you by the hand whenever he needs to show you something. He’s flirtatious, but never insufferable. Confident, but never cocky. He walks the fine line of being larger than life and coming off as far too much, and he does so perfectly. You’ve never met a boy like Lorenzo Berkshire before, and at this point, you doubt you ever will.

This does, unfortunately, tend to mess with your head more than a little. It’s one thing to dream of floppy dark hair pushed back to reveal a brilliant smile, or deep brown eyes that always search the crowd for you, but it’s another thing entirely to have to deal with all of his charm turned towards someone else. You’re not completely unrealistic, you know all too well that Lorenzo is perfectly capable of falling in love with any other girl at this school, you just can’t seem to convince yourself that such a thing would be okay.

For instance, just this morning at breakfast, you walked into the Great Hall with your friends to find Enzo already there, avidly talking up a girl from one of your classes. His eyes were alight with enthusiasm, and when she made him laugh with what was no doubt a terrible joke, your entire body felt consumed with desperate jealousy.

You must have lost track of what you were saying, because Pansy had followed your line of sight to see Enzo still locked in conversation with the girl. She had sighed dramatically, and turned to you with an exasperated expression that is slowly becoming quite familiar the more you vex her with your inability to get over your feelings. “Don’t tell me you’re lovesick again. Are you physically capable of going more than five minutes without thinking about Enzo?”

You feel your face heat up and swat her on the shoulder. “Feel free to say that any louder, maybe he’ll hear you.”

“Good,” Pansy mutters, “Maybe then the two of you could finally talk to each other about this.”

Theo swings by, grinning. “Are we making fun of Y/N for her crush on Enzo again? Good, let’s do it some more.”

You turn to him, eyes wide with surprise. “Theo, you insufferable git–”

Theo leans away when you try to swat him, too. “Don’t shoot the messenger! I’m just trying to help you two, I swear it.”

“You’re doing a right awful job of it,” you tell him, pushing closer to him so you can exact your vengeance.

“Hey, hey,” Theo complains, “Don’t hit me too hard now, your loverboy is looking.”

You whip back around to see that Theo is right, Enzo has gotten up from where he was sitting to walk over to your group. This time, though, he looks distinctly annoyed, and whatever good mood he was in while he was talking to the other girl has evaporated from his face. His eyes keep cutting between you and Theo in quick, curt movements, and his hands are tight at his sides.

You move away from Theo unconsciously, like you’ve been pulled into Enzo’s orbit. Lorenzo manages a weak smile to you, then allows Draco and Blaise to coax him into a discussion of the upcoming Slytherin Quidditch game. You’re left to stumble back to the Slytherin table with your friends, constantly glancing over your shoulder in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, he might look back at you even one more time.

Pansy and Theo take seats on either side of you, exchanging hopeless glances over your head. “At this rate, I don’t think they’re ever going to make it,” Theo says gloomily.

Pansy snorts. “Have some faith, Theo. A miracle might happen.”

A miracle would be lovely indeed. Forget turning water into wine or getting all of your end-of-term exams cancelled, you think your brightest hope for a miracle would be Enzo actually feeling even half as strongly about you as you do about him.

You end up floating through that day much as you do any other, zoning out in lecture to think about the boy seated just next to you. Although your little group of Slytherins tends to sprawl across the back rows of any classroom, Enzo always seems to pick the desk right next to you, no matter who he walked in with or what conversation he’s in the middle of entertaining. It’s like all thoughts of sports or other friends go right out of his head the second he gets the chance to sit by your side.

By the time the last class of the day rolls around, you feel just about ready to give in. Whoever scheduled History of Magic in the late afternoon was absolutely insane. In the dark room, lights dim and windows half shuttered, the overwhelming urge to sleep presses in on you, unavoidable and all too compelling. You try to pay attention, really you do, but the material is so dry and Binns is so boring that closing your eyes even just for a few seconds is far too tempting.

The only thing keeping you from passing out is the uncomfortable desk in front of you. You’d think that decades of students falling asleep in this class would have worn down the surface at least a little bit, but the hard edges of the desk keep poking into you, keeping you from relaxing completely.

Enzo laughs quietly after you rearrange yourself for what feels like the hundredth time that class period. “Trouble falling asleep? I thought Binns would have knocked you out half an hour ago.”

“I’m almost asleep, I just can’t get comfortable,” you complain. “This desk is harder than a rock.”

He grins, then shuffles closer to you. Both of you share one long table meant for two students, so Enzo isn’t barred off from you by individual desks. Sitting together on one bench as you are, Enzo can reach out and pull you against his side. “You can fall asleep on me,” he says, “I’d like to think I’m much more comfortable than a desk.”

You giggle faintly. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” he tells you. “One of us should be able to get some rest, at least. I’ll wake you when it’s over, don’t worry.”

“Never,” you assure him, but already sleep is coming to claim you. Leaning against him, your head tucked against his shoulder, the last barriers to your slumber have been removed. You can just sense his arm curling around your waist, keeping you close, and then you’re asleep at last.

It feels as if no time at all has passed before Enzo is gently shaking you awake at the end of class. “Sleep well?” He asks, grinning.

You sit up slowly, absentmindedly rubbing one hand against the side of your tired face. “Very.”

Enzo smiles, then adjusts your tie, which has become slightly lopsided during your slumber. “You still look tired. It’s cute,” he tells you, then freezes slightly, as if he hadn’t meant to give that little detail away.

You arch a brow. “You think I’m cute, Enzo?”

“Very,” he admits. “Cuter still when you’re cuddled up beside me. You’ll have to do it again soon, I’m afraid.”

You laugh. “I think I can arrange that. Only if you call me cute again, though.”

Enzo’s smile broadens. “Sweetheart, I’ll tell you’re pretty and gorgeous and anything else you want to hear. It’s all true, anyway. Oh, and to answer your question, I feel the same way.”

You frown as you reach down to grab your bag, ready to leave this class at last for something a bit more exhilarating. “Huh? What question did I ask?”

Enzo winks as he helps you pick up your books. “You might want to be a little more careful what you whisper when you sleep. And if I wasn’t totally clear, I like you too.”

You stand stock-still. Of all the things to admit when you’re asleep on Enzo’s shoulder– but from the way he’s still smiling at you, you realize at last that he doesn’t mind it, not at all. In fact, judging by his little confession just moments ago, Enzo actually likes you back. It’s not something you had allowed yourself to fully contemplate before, but maybe you should reconsider. After all, the two of you have kept your feelings secret for long enough. You certainly have a lot of missed opportunities to catch up on now.

harry potter tag list: @rogueanschel, @cameronsails, @neewtmas, @lovesanimals0000, @with-inked-solace, @sher-lokid7, @eclliipsed, @frenchgirlinlondon, @23victoria, @ilovexavierthrope

all tags list: @wordsarelife

#lorenzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire oneshot #lorenzo berkshire fanfic #harry potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter oneshot #harry potter fanfic #harry potter lorenzo #harry potter lorenzo imagines #harry potter lorenzo oneshot #enzo berkshire #enzo berkshire imagines #enzo berkshire x reader #enzo berkshire oneshot #enzo berkshire fanfic #slytherin

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starstruckmiraclekitty · 1 year

Note

Hey saffy lemur... could you maybe do a scenario for the 141 and König and reader? Where they each have their first kiss with them and what the kiss is like? I love your writing you're so good at fluff,! If you don't want to it's okay, thanks!

Thank you so much! I hope this is what you were looking for❤️😊

141 + König x Reader's First Kiss

Warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, sexual references

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Simon Ghost Riley-

Your first kiss with Simon was sweet. After months of mutual pining, he'd finally mustered the courage to ask you out on a date.

He took you to a small cafe, where it wouldn't be too busy. He was a perfect gentleman the whole date, and you couldn't be any more enamored with him because of it.

He'd shown you a whole new side of him tonight, one that he hadn't shown anyone in years. He'd had his fair share of flings and one night stands, but you were different. Something about you made him want something more. Something real.

He'd walked you up to your doorstep later that night, after your date had ended. "I had a nice night Y/N, thank you." He said as he leaned against your door.

"Me too, Simon. I really hope we can do this again. It was nice getting to know the man behind the mask. I quite like him." You smiled warmly up at him.

Simon felt butterflies in his stomach from the way you were looking at him. Nobody's looked at him like that in years.

He looked deeply in your eyes before leaning down to slot his lips against yours. The kiss was nothing short of perfect. His lips had felt so soft against yours.

His finger rested under your chin, pulling your head up toward him more so he could deepen the kiss. Pulling away slowly after a few moments, he smiled down at you before placing a kiss on your forehead.

"I'll see you soon, yeah?" He asked, hopeful. The kiss solidified what he knew he felt inside. He was falling for you, and falling hard.

Johnny Soap MacTavish-

Your first kiss with Johnny was unexpected. The two of you had been friends for years. You had a friendship filled with relentless teasing, late nights gossiping, and lingering touches.

You were out with him late at night at a bar close to base. The two of you wanted to let loose, and ended up having one too many.

At one point during the night, you found yourself staring at Johnny. He was licking his chapped lips all night, and it was driving you crazy. You'd always harbored feelings for the Scot, and it certainly didn't help you were undeniably attracted to him either.

"Need some chapstick?" You teased, catching Johnny's attention. He turned his gaze away from the game on TV and looked at you with a smirk.

"Think I may need more than just chapstick, darlin." He sent you a sly wink.

You stifled a giggle at his reply. "Was that supposed to be a pickup line? That was awful, Johnny."

Johnny would be sure to blame it on the drinks later, but your little giggle had done something to him in that moment. Ignoring any doubts he had in his mind, he leaned forward and crashed his lips onto yours.

The kiss was heated, and messy. Both of you being under the influence of alcohol certainly didn't make for a very romantic kiss. There was teeth clashing, tongue and a mix of saliva all at once. But you weren't complaining, and neither was he.

"Fuck me." He pulled away, with a darkness to his eyes that wasn't there before. "Let's get out of here, yeah?"

You nodded your head, and let Johnny lead the way to a night neither of you would forget.

Price-

Your first kiss with Price was rough. The amount of sexual/romantic tension between the two of you was palpable, and had been since you'd joined his task force.

You'd needed help with some defense techniques and had asked if he'd be willing to spar with you to help out.

You'd been sparring with him for the last 20 minutes and were working up quite the sweat. Price wasn't one to go easy on you, and you'd narrowly missed being punched a handful of times.

You'd lost your footing as you tried to deflect his latest punch unsuccessfully, causing you and John to go tumbling to the ground. He held his arms out on either side of you to prevent himself from falling on top of you.

Trying to catch your breath from the physical exertion, you looked up to find Price already looking down at you. His gaze had flitted down to your lips and back up to your eyes.

You swallowed thickly, unsure of what his next move was going to be. He gave a small smirk before leaning down to connect your lips with his.

The kiss was bruising. Like in your spar session, Price didn't hold himself back when kissing you either. His lips were rough, and the kiss was anything but soft.

"I think I won that spar, yeah?" He asked, pulling away. "Now it's time to claim my prize."

Gaz-

Your first kiss with Gaz was playful. You and him were playing Mario Kart at your flat, and things were getting tense. Each of you were self proclaimed masters at the game and decided to do a ten round game to see who was the ultimate winner.

The two of you were sitting side by side, deeply concentrating on the game. This was the last round of the match, and you and Gaz were neck and neck, the winner being decided by this match.

It was the last lap, and Gaz was right on your tail. At the last minute, he had gotten a red shell to use on you, which allowed him to push past you and win the race.

"AHH! DID YOU SEE THAT? I WON, I WON!" Gaz cried out, flinging his arms in the air, sending the controller flying.

You laughed at his enthusiasm and were about to say something before he cut you off with a fierce kiss.

You and Gaz had been friends for a while. Both of you were close and found yourselves in each other's company. You'd always had a small attraction to the man, but never vocalize your feelings.

Your mind was hazy as you tried to grasp what was happening. You'd sat frozen as he kissed you, unable to move.

He pulled away with wide eyes. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry. I should've asked, was so."

You cut him off by placing your lips against his. He immediately reciprocated, pushing you backward into the couch.

"Shit, can I get kissed like this every time I win?"

König-

König's and your first kiss was timid. You'd been on a few dates together, never ending with the kiss you'd wanted so badly from him.

You knew of his anxieties, though. You knew better than to push him into something he wasn't comfortable with. So you waited patiently for him to make his move.

The two of you were on a picnic date, at a little lake by your house. The date was quiet, but sweet. König had told you some childhood stories, in exchange for a few of your own.

As the two of you finished your sandwiches, a comfortable silence fell over you. Both of you often looking at each other, exchanging warm glances.

At one point, he turned to you with a small smile and cleared his throat. "Maus….may I… may I kiss you?"

You nodded your head with a smile and waited for König to make a move. He leaned in slowly and placed his lips on yours softly, almost as if he'd break you if he'd put any more pressure.

He pulled away only a second later, a light pink dusting his cheeks. "I.. I hope that was alright for you."

"That was perfect Kö.. could I…maybe get another?" You asked, your own cheeks now turning pink.

König felt his heart flutter, and gladly leaned back in to capture your lips in his once more. This time, kissing you with just a bit more fervor than before.

König could get used to this, this domestic bliss. You were starting to show him slowly but surely that the man beneath the mask was worth loving.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Thanks for reading!!!❤️😊

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pluvialpoet · 2 months

Text

bergamot

Summary: moments of quiet reflection reaffirm what you both already know to be true- he’s always going to come back, and you’re always going to be waiting with open arms

Pairing: dick grayson x fem!reader

Requested: no

Warning: idiots in love, friends to lovers, mutual pining, scarecrow's fear toxin, mentions of death and grief, slight angst, fluffy ending, loosely based off of batman: hush (2019)- but no major spoilers

Word Count: 3,930

masterlist

a/n: I know that dick has a tolerance against/is immune to scarecrow's fear toxin, but let's pretend he isn't...for the plot

Sleep is cruel in the way it continues to evade you when you crave it most. Mocking and teasing, exhaustion morphs into desperation. Even with your eyes shut dreams fail you, and nightmares taunt.

A siren wails, bellowing out into the night and echoing caution even after the initial cry has faded. Could be a police car, or an ambulance. Maybe even a fire truck. You try not to consider all of the possibilities, knowing it’ll only starve your slumber, further. With a huff, you adjust the heavy comforter, pulling it up until it bunches just under your chin.

In a few weeks, branches will be stripped of their leaves. Snow will fall, and the city will suffocate under a blanket of white. July was only yesterday, sticky and never-ending- infinite until finite. Now, January lurks around the corner- weeks away, but daunting, nevertheless.

The pillow tucked behind your back is a poor imitation of the brawn you wish feathers and fill could replicate, just as the one pressed to your chest acts as an imposter mimicking the body meant to be sleeping peacefully beside you. It’s impossible to tell feelings of loneliness apart from being alone, and deep down you know that reminiscence is merciless. Memory is wicked. But you can’t help remembering. It’s the only way you won’t forget- and even then, so much time has passed that you’ve begun to fade, and he’s begun to blur. Spiraling further and further away from reality and control, you drift towards hope, feeding each dangerous possibility until you have nothing left to give, but delusion takes and takes and takes…

Answers elude like comfort- and sleep. When, how, and why is lost upon you. He’s been gone for so long. Even so, your life has continued, evolving to accommodate the gaps he used to fill. Though, it’s about as effective as papier-mâchéing an open wound shut. Everywhere you look, everything you do, every time you shut your eyes, he finds a way to bleed into you, one way or another, and you welcome it every single time. All you really have are memories and a space in your bed which has always been his to come home to.

Outside, the wind howls. Angry and violent, the sound rattles the windowpane and you burrow deeper into the covers trying to block it out. Shadows dance across the ceiling, but none of them belong to the ghost you’ve been waiting for. Another frustrated huff fails to quell burning exhaustion, and you rub your eyes with the back of your hand before checking the clock next to you. Neon green flashes, all too pleased to report that it’s well past midnight and you haven’t gotten a wink of sleep. Already tomorrow, and you’re still mourning today.

Pushing the covers off, you shiver. There’s a chill in the air and little comfort to be found in the fact that the entire apartment feels cold and empty without him in it. At least it’s not just the bed. It’s the entire room, the hallway, and the kitchen, too. You reach for the light above the stove and begin to search the cupboards for a mug. If nothing else, at least a cup of tea will warm you up. Thanks to muscle memory, you act on autopilot, filling the ceramic with water and placing it in the microwave before picking a teabag and waiting. Waiting, waiting, waiting, always waiting. Three monotone beeps call your attention back before it has another chance to wander away from you, and you retrieve the cup and place the teabag inside. Steeping time be damned.

You can’t wait any longer.

One leg curls under the other as you take a seat and bring the mug to your mouth. It burns the tip of your tongue, a small price to pay for your greed, and you swallow the too-hot liquid regardless of the consequences. The pain barely registers, anyway. With both palms pressed to the vessel, warmth finally finds you, and a barely contented huff passes your lips to blow the steam from the cup. It’s not always like this. It’s not supposed to be, but for so long, it has been. Never months, always weeks. You don’t know how to do this or how much longer you can put yourself through this torture when every sunrise twists the knots in your stomach tighter and tighter. How much longer until you snap?

You’re so tangled up in your suffering that you miss it the first time, until the hair on the back of your neck bristles. Did you imagine it? Silently, you wait, setting the steaming mug down to listen, and this time, you hear it. Faintly, but there. Real.

Tap tap. Tap tap. Tap tap tap tap.

I’m here. I’m safe. Can I come in?

Your feet move before the rest of your body does, and the chair scrapes loudly across the hardwood as you jump from it in shock. A cocktail of excitement, worry, disbelief, and fear bubbles and swirls through you when you spot a familiar glimpse of black and blue through the window near the fire escape.

“Dick?”

Crossing the room without any memory of doing so, you fiddle with the latch that keeps you from him, and him from you, until finally it clicks. With only one foot through the window, you reach for him, desperate to savor the illusion until mass, warmth and a heartbeat prove it to be real. Upon realizing, your breath hitches. He’s real. He’s real, and he’s here. No longer a dream. No longer a nightmare. No longer a vision only sleep can grant or mold, he stands before you. He takes a moment to properly slide the window shut behind him, returning the lock to its rightful position- keeping the rest of the world and the winter, out- before turning to face you once more. He can’t even get a word out before you’re pressed against him, wrapping your arms around him and holding yourself back from crushing him with the intensity of your longing. Overly cautious of injuries you can’t physically see- mindful of bruises, tears of flesh, and wounds that remain eclipsed by kevlar and moonlight- you embrace him with a hesitancy that severely undermines your fervor. Holding him gently- delicately, tenderly- the way you’ve dreamt about entwining with him on nights when sleep has been generous instead of cruel, you finally look up at him.

A sigh of relief dispels the hoarded tension in your neck, shoulders, and chest when you rest your head against his chest and inhale. Sweat and copper muddle his natural scent, but even when he’s covered in his victories, even when he’s drenched in his defeats, he still smells like home- warm, safe, familiar, and comforting.

He hesitates to envelop you with the same thinly veiled desperation, holding himself back.

Every muscle in his body carries the strain of battles fought and won. His head throbs with the force of his thoughts, and the inescapable dizziness that always accompanies crashing down from a high. Then again, he’s never been one to ease into things gracefully. Tiny cuts and scrapes, angry blacks and blues, and even gaping gashes that are still seeping and tender to the touch hardly register as anything other than a stinging, burning sensation. Everything is dull. Ferocity and intensity both subdued. Through the haze of everything that competes for his attention, you’re the one thing that’s clear. As always, the hold you have on him, both physical and metaphorical, brings him back to his senses, but doubt keeps him withdrawn.

Warily wrapping his arms around you, Dick returns the gesture as best as he can. Cages built of muscle, meant to keep you close, refuse to lock you in place, and he finds it increasingly difficult to resist surrendering to you entirely. Just as his nerves begin to settle they spike once more when the gravity of the past few months finally begins to sink in. As you continue to tremble in his arms, he swallows a lump in his throat and fights the urge to hold you impossibly closer. If he weren’t so afraid, he’d never let go again. But he’s not the same man he was the last time you saw him. Having seen too much, he knows that he can’t let this become something more. Fear is rotten. He’s seen the future, and if he keeps leaning on you then he’s only going to drag you down with him. Regardless of what he really wants, he won’t let this become something more, but then he looks down at you in his shirt and realizes it’s always been something more- and it terrifies him more than anything.

When pink swirls around the drain- a muted severity of soapy lather and remnants of crusted, oozing red- he rests his forehead against the cold tiles and lets out a deep sigh. He can’t remember the last time he’d had a proper shower. Under the trickling scorch, he allows his shoulders to slump forward, letting the too-hot water soothe his muscles like a balm, and it stings in a way he welcomes- a reminder that he’s done it again, he’s survived the worst and now he just has to survive the recovery.

He’s never been good with the after, always losing himself in possibilities of what comes next without taking a minute to catch his breath, but he’s trying to be better. He owes it to you. Not only you but himself, too- but mostly you. So, he tries to forget. He pushes memories too fresh to be forgotten somewhere else, banishing them to the far corners of his mind and locking them away until he’s ready to face his demons at his own pace, on his own terms, but his wicked creations fight back. Even when they’re crafted from delusions, mirroring real-life counterparts with a precision too exact to be a figmented replication, he finds himself engaged in an internal match that never crowns a victor. It’s a conflict that never ceases, even after his own surrender. Still, he’s found that the intrusions are less when copper is overpowered by citrus, and when red, inevitably swirls into pink.

Steam amplifies the smell of sweat and body odor, so pungent that the only word to describe it is bad, and he holds his breath while he reaches for your soap once more. He can’t believe you let him anywhere near you. It’s even more unfathomable that you sought an embrace, despite the remnants of battle that’ve woven themselves into his being- lingering, even long after. He’s repulsed by that which exposes him, a stench so strong that it serves as a testament to the fact that he reclaimed you as soon as he could, coming right back to this haven of sorts without any prior stops, and his stomach churns uncomfortably, the once soothing mist tainting each attempt at air, and a weight teases the aching muscles of his chest which breath does not alleviate.

Through the haze, he sees the truth- when reality remains undistorted by the tricks of his own want and longing, he recognizes fact without his own warped perceptions of fantasy- and he realizes just how careless he’s been. By allowing desire to suade better judgment, he’s put you at risk. Guilt punishes with an onslaught of emotions ranging from frustration to anger, sadness to grief, and even regret to sorrow. His own reluctance to accept how dangerous it was, and always has been, to lean on your affections as a crutch has finally caught up to him. After all that he’s seen, after everything he’s been forced to bear witness to over the past few months, coupled with a lifetime of loss, he’s no longer able to ignore the thought that’s broken free from the shackles of elsewhere. What was once dull, always there but never really forgotten, has become intense and persistent.

Every time he finds his way back to you, he invites peril into your life. He’s hazardous. Even if he’s not, being attached to him- in any way- puts you at an even greater risk of endangerment. Trying to justify something even as tame as a friendship is absurd. You’re so much more than that. Whether he meant for it to happen or not, you’ve found a place within his heart. Every beat echoes your name and carries secrets of his devotion. All that remains of the walls meant to protect both of you is rubble, and Dick stands alone in the epicenter of the aftermath, unsure and torn between chaos and order. Selfishly, he wants. Greedily, he craves. Morally, he knows that he should just walk away- but he can’t.

The scene shifts, ceramic tile falling away to reveal an eerie, yet familiar boneyard, and he shakes his head. It’s not real. It was never real- but it was so vivid. Cold fog obscures his vision, and he closes his eyes. This is a trick. This isn’t truth. He knows what comes next. Forced to indulge in his worst nightmares, the shrill, piercing sound of your terror renders him numb. He can’t move. Paralyzed, he fights limbs of lead, but he can’t act. It surrounds him, your agony, and he can’t do anything to save you. He can’t protect you. With each cry of his name, you plead, but there’s nothing he can do. When silence follows his ragged breaths, he refuses to look down. He hates this part the most, but he doesn’t have a choice. Crimson stains the black and blue weave, and he can taste metallic. He doesn’t have any control over this hallucination, born and bred from his greatest fear, and all he can do is witness the fallout of your shared torture- your blood on his hands, his body slumped against your tombstone, and the triumphant laughter of a clown, a scarecrow, a ventriloquist, and a hundred more that delight in your demise.

He can’t catch his breath. Drifting further and further away from reality, he struggles to claw his way back towards the light. When his vision begins to fade, he reaches for more soap. In for three counts, out for four. In for three counts, and out for four, again, Dick feels lightheaded. There’s no limit to how far he’d go to keep you safe, not a single rule or code he wouldn’t break to protect you from anything and everything- and that’s an entirely different threat, in and of itself. His loyalty has the potential to become his ruin, and he’d let it- for your sake- but would that be enough? Could his devotion be enough to keep you safe from the otherwise brutal fate that awaits you with, and without, his intervention?

The bite of a washrag leaves his skin raw. Lost to his thoughts, he’s been mindlessly scrubbing away at his flesh, dousing himself with bubbled distraction. Another breath fails to alleviate his unease. All he can think about is that which is out of his control, and he can’t help but wonder, is there even a chance for the two of you?

Every thought is a contradiction.

He could wax poetic to Bruce about love- how precious and fragile and conscious it is- but he can’t even bring himself to act upon his own advice. Even worse than following in a denialist’s footsteps is being a hypocrite, but there are just too many variables for him to take into account- too many what-ifs and maybe’s that enable him to cower behind words left unspoken.

In spite of this, he dares to dream of a future where you’re his and he’s yours, and nothing else matters. Lost to his delusions, a smile threatens to work muscles that’ve remained dormant for months of disuse. It hurts. Stretching, pulling, and manipulating his face to actually convey what he’s feeling instead of trying to veil it, hurts. However, the worst pain follows. As he reaches for the illusion, it slips through his fingers- so close he can almost hold it, yet just out of reach, simultaneously- and just like that, reality distorts the mirage. Pried from him, ripped away and sporting his claw marks, what could’ve been remains what could’ve been- and it’s all his fault.

Fear suppresses his love.

He’s already lost so much, he can’t lose this, too. He won’t. However glutinous, he craves more- even when he knows he can’t have it, he wants with a desire that’s almost too strong to ignore. Almost. Locking his feelings away, he throws away the key, but his ribs begin to expand with the intensity of his longing, and his chest feels tight. This isn’t like before. It seems as if his secrets have outgrown their cages, and he finds himself at a crossroads. His mind begins to drift and he wonders if this agony is why Bruce kept Selina at arm’s length…

A sigh, and a revelation- he’s not Bruce, and you’re not Selina.

Dick’s been going about this all wrong. Despite everything he’s been taught about love and loss, he’s allowed a life outside of a domino mask and kevlar. He deserves to cherish someone, to protect and devote himself to something other than his work- someone to fight for, someone to come home to- and he deserves to be beloved, too. Even if only for tonight. Even if tomorrow isn’t promised and all you have is right now, you’re here. On the other side of the frosted glass screen and plaster, you’re waiting for him. Another smile, less forced and genuine, feels like a relief instead of a burden. His skin pebbles under the frigid stream left in the wake of molten steam. With a shiver, he seeks your warmth, reaching for the faucet and stepping out of the enclosure.

A worn shirt rests atop the counter, the fabric faded from years of wear and wash, folded neatly beneath a pair of fresh boxers and socks likely left behind from the last time, or the time before that, or even the time before…truth be told, he thought he’d lost it, misplaced it, or given it away. Of course, you’ve had it in your care, all along. The corner of his mouth threatens to twitch into a smile. Slipping the towel from around his waist, he begins to dress, wondering when you managed to sneak in without him hearing you. The door used to creak, and he realizes that you must have fixed it while he was gone. It’s hard not to think about what else might’ve changed since the last time he saw you. Would you have stayed with him, if he asked you to? You always have. Six years and counting, he muses if you always will…

His hair is getting long, again. Droplets fall from the overgrown strands at the base of his neck down his back, making him shiver and reach for his towel once more. He pats his hair down, ruffling it with the towel a few times before wiping away at the mirror. Making eye contact with his reflection he’s the first to look away. He’s looked worse and supposes that's a small win in and of itself, though he can’t stand the sight of himself any longer than he has to. A deep exhale and a shake of his head diverts his attention to the countertop where a spare toothbrush has been left out for him to use. Of course, he already knows where the toothpaste is. He helps himself with a growing smile and places it in the holder right next to yours when he’s done. His chest expands with something he can’t quite name when he finds himself surrounded by gentle reminders of your care. A small cup of water and painkillers act as physical embodiments of your thoughtfulness and he revels in the knowledge that you’re letting him know you’re there for him while giving him space to come down from whatever adrenaline rush the past few months have spiked. It’s in those silent gestures of love that he hears it the loudest, echoing and amplifying all around him.

It must be killing you to act so selflessly, and he tries not to be selfish with your affections, but it’s difficult not to feel like a burden when you’ve rearranged more than just a spot on the counter, or a place for him to keep his toothbrush next to yours, for him- giving him a home without expecting anything else in return.

Down the hall, the mattress protests against his arrival, angry springs squeaking from months of disuse before welcoming his weight and warmth on the side opposite of yours- his side, from the very moment, years ago, when he found his way back to you after a night that left him bloody and beaten but not broken. Never broken- not when he’s always had you. Though most memory of the first evening spent beside you remains a blur, the ability to recall details and specifics stolen from him as his wounds wept crimson tears that stained your hands and upholstery, fondness prevails. Despite robbed recollections, tender warmth, and affection remain. Even then, he knew. Without really knowing, without certainty, he was certain- he loved you, and you loved him, and every gentle, devoted gesture has always reaffirmed the one thing he could never doubt. Every silent offering, every selfless sacrifice, and piece of yourself that you’ve surrendered to him further insists that your heart acts in favor of three words never spoken.

His arm finds your waist easily, and he’s grateful that he doesn’t have to tiptoe around his reluctance to accept what this is, anymore. Not when you’re here. Not when you’re waiting so patiently for him, and snuggle back into his hold the moment he reaches out for you. Some limbs tangle, but not yours- the two of you fit perfectly together, like you were truly meant to be, and the moment that you’re allowed to converge, you press your palm flat against his arm, holding him close to you.

Reacquainting yourself with him after is always your favorite part. Though, your heart cleaves when your fingertips ghost over a new scar- the skin still raised and angry, even if the wound has closed. With something akin to sympathy, an apology for the pain he’s suffered that you can’t take away, you gently trace the new mark in acknowledgment.

Tomorrow, or later today, when the sunlight illuminates the sky, you’ll ask him about it. Or, maybe you won’t. When the first glimpses of warm light threaten to spill over the horizon, you might get answers to the questions you’ve spent the last few months pondering. Or, perhaps everything unasked will remain unresolved. Either way, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is the fact that tonight, you’ll sleep- safe and protected, at ease and engulfed by all things him- and even if it only lasts for the night, you’ll cherish whatever small moments of intimacy the moon grants before the sun, inevitably, rips them away- a fate you’ve grown to expect, time and time again.

Still, you let your eyes flutter shut, basking in the silence for only a moment before it’s interrupted.

“I love you,” Dick confesses softly, words warm and whispered against your shoulder encouraged by a fleeting moment of courage- and the tender caress of your touch- that prompt the secret to spill from his chest, an accident he fears he may have to render excuses for to salvage whatever broken pieces are left of this unspoken relationship.

“I know,” With your back towards him he misses the stretch of a smile ghosting your lips, and finds himself tensing behind you. Could you have really known? All this time? Is that why he always comes back? Is that why you let him? “I love you, too,”

“No, I mean, I really lo-“

“Tell me in the morning, yeah?” You suggest before he can get too far ahead of himself. Torn between wanting to clarify his confession and realizing that maybe he doesn’t have to, Dick relents. He can’t really argue, anyway- having kept this to himself for so many years, another few hours won’t hurt. With a breath- of acceptance, not defeat or surrender- he closes his eyes and finally relaxes into your embrace.

It’s over.

For now, Dick can rest easy knowing that when the smell of bergamot fades, this tacit love will always remain, and he finds enough comfort in the realization to let it lull him into a peaceful sleep.

a/n: I love him so much!!! this has been rotting in my brain for nearly a year and I just found it in my drafts last night lol! anyway, this started as a challenge to myself where I wanted to see if I could write something with only five lines of dialogue, and I'm curious to hear how you all think it turned out! as always, requests are open! check out my request guidelines before submitting! and if you’ve made it this far, thank you so much for reading!

everyone who requested to be tagged: @idyllcy @wicked-laugh @ul4lume

Send me some feedback, or request to be added to my taglist! (please specify which taglist you’d like to be added to- character or general) !Requests: OPEN!

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#dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson angst #dick grayson fluff #dick grayson fanfic #dick grayson fanfiction #nightwing #nightwing x reader #nightwing imagine #nightwing fluff #dc titans #dc imagine #dc comics imagine #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x you #nightwing x you #nightwing x y/n

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devixxish · 9 months

Text

Pairing: Choso Kamo x AFAB! Reader

Word Count: 2357 | 25 paragraphs

18+ MDNI. NOT proof read, smut, inked & pierced Choso, pining, tiny bit of tattooing, Choso kinda flirts? ig, groping, two consent checks, slight begging, cunnilingus, fingering, dom! Choso, pussydrunk! Choso. again probably more? idk

A/N: it's like 5AM and I'm tired asf 😭 I deleted the whole thing and started rewriting it like 12 hours ago. tbh I just kept writing and writing,i had once again too many ideas and got overwhelmed:') Also, is it obvious I suck at writing dialogue? ANYWAY, the ending is hella rushed and ugly tbh, but I still hope you enjoy! Divider by @benkeibear ♡

TATTOO ARTIST! CHOSO ╾ A guy looking both intimidating and sweet simultaneously as you watch him from afar while waiting for your scheduled appointment. Skin adorned with black ink, running from his fingers up his arms and getting lost beneath the mystery that lay under his shirt. A hint of a few splotches made their way up his neck, your eyes following them with intent. Your eyes reached that pretty face of his and much to your embarrassment, you had been caught staring, earning a small wink and a hint of a smirk from him.

TATTOO ARTIST! CHOSO ╾ While you had been many times to that particular tattoo parlor and caught multiple glimpses of him, either working, chatting or simply existing, you never got the chance to actually speak to him. You never even got booked with him. You merely settled for admiring from afar; the contrast of his pale skin with his intricate tattoos, his smudged eyeliner that made his gaze even more intense (or maybe it was just your imagination), the dark circles under his eyes that somehow added to his look, and the most adorable pigtails which were a stark contrast to his whole image. You had accepted your fate that you would never get the chance to come in contact with him.

TATTOO ARTIST! CHOSO ╾ Even the thought of him was enough to make you blush. You had convinced yourself that it was starting to become an unhealthy obsession- you would never find the balls to even get close to the guy! But it happened. What you had been not so secretly hoping for- wishing for. You had just saved up enough to get a piece done, and when you booked your appointment and heard the name of your artist- you had to physically contain yourself from squealing.

TATTOO ARTIST! CHOSO ╾ He was the first thing you saw as soon as you entered through the door on the day of your appointment. You were sure you had never felt more nervous in your life; the butterflies in your stomach were going crazy and you could feel the sweat in your palms. It was embarrassing, honestly, but you had to get through it. With a deep breath, you found the courage you did not possess and walked over to him.

TATTOO ARTIST! CHOSO ╾ The way he lit up upon seeing you did nothing to calm your nerves. On the contrary- were you imagining things? He interacted with you in the sweetest way, and you had to constantly remind yourself that you were his client, his last for the day on top of that, so it was common sense for him to be polite. Soon enough, you both had moved to the back with you only then realizing that everyone else had already left for the night. Sigh.

TATTOO ARTIST! CHOSO ╾ He complimented you when you described the tattoo you wanted to get - a side piece coming down to your stomach - and you managed to give him a smile and a small 'thank you' in response with difficulty. He had started arranging the caps and inks, and whatever else he needed, when he suddenly voiced; "I'm going to need you to take this off.", pointing to your top.

TATTOO ARTIST! CHOSO ╾ who laughed a melody when you yelped, "Excuse me?!", and explained that it was for the best if you didn't want ink to get on your top. You easily complied, slipping the garment off your body and laying back on your seat, calmly waiting for him. Soon, he approached to get you and the stencil ready. "Ready, pretty?"

TATTOO ARTIST! CHOSO ╾ He didn't seem to notice the blush that creeped over your cheeks, and you did your best to hide it as well. He started tracing the lines with ink, and you were grateful for the slight distraction the pain from the machine provided. It didn't last. He kept touching you - to stretch your skin and hold you still, of course - and you were finding it extremely hard to not stare at his face, or the piercings adorning it, or his hands, or the way he was touching you. "How are you feeling?"

TATTOO ARTIST! CHOSO ╾ looked up at you, expecting a reply. You had to look at him, and so you did, giving him only a nod. A hint of a smirk appeared on his face, returning your nod. "Good. You're doing so good.", and with that he continued his job, slowly reaching your lower stomach as time passed. It hurt, of course it hurt, but something made you want to put on your brave face and act nonchalant about both the pain and the proximity of you both- his breath was fanning over you stomach, adding a tingly feeling to the pain you felt. And him, he was nonchalant about how he made you feel.

TATTOO ARTIST! CHOSO ╾ He wasn't stupid, nor a stranger to clients who had small, innocent crushes on him. It happened to everyone, and you didn't make it particularly hard to notice. He could see the way you looked at him, could feel the deeper breaths you sucked in each time his grip on you tightened, or the way you squirmed and closed your thighs every time he worked on your tummy. And Choso enjoyed it. Perhaps a little too much for his own good.

TATTOO ARTIST! CHOSO ╾ His pause made you look back at him, a puzzled expression on your face. He gave you a smile and informed you you would be stopping for the night- you would need a second session. Your face visibly dropped; not because you wanted more of the pain from the machine, but because you wanted more of Choso. More of his touch, his small talk, his mere presence. You guessed he saw the look on your face, because just for a fleeting moment, something flickered in his eyes. What it was, you couldn't exactly tell, but it was enough to make your mind wander.

TATTOO ARTIST! CHOSO ╾ He had turned to throw away his gloves and you took it as your cue to put your shirt back on and take your leave. While slightly struggling with your top, you picked up the sound of his chair rolling, and when you were able to see again, Choso was right in front of you, right in between your parted legs. Before you could even utter a word, he had already stood up, towering over you as he leaned closer while supporting himself on the back of your chair. "Leaving already?"

TATTOO ARTIST! CHOSO ╾ simply chuckled when your breath hitched in your throat, a low and airy sound that tickled your ears. "You're being so obvious, it's almost painful to watch", he was smirking while eyeing you, watching you stumble over your words and ultimately huff out in defeat. You were the cutest thing he had laid eyes upon. And he wanted to devour you. And he was pretty sure you wanted that, too.

TATTOO ARTIST! CHOSO ╾ leaned even closer. You could feel his breath mingling with your own as he took a moment to analyze your face; your widened eyes, your parted lips, your pretty face as a whole. "Can I?", it was a whisper so low you barely heard it, but you were so thankful you did. Your nod was all it took for him to finally crash his lips on yours, his hand snaking to the back of your neck to hold you in place as he used his tongue to part your lips and gain access inside your mouth. All you did was mewl and let him kiss you the way he wanted - rough, but sweet at the same time - your hands gripping the front of his shirt as if his kiss was your life support.

TATTOO ARTIST! CHOSO ╾ couldn't hold himself back. His lips never once left your skin after the initial kiss. He only took a second to allow you to catch your breath, before attaching his lips to your neck, his hands taking a hold of your thighs and trailing up and under your shirt. The sounds he was pulling from you were mesmerizing- and he needed to hear more. You could feel his hands roaming all over your body, groping your tits, gripping your side - the one without the fresh tattoo - gripping your thighs. It was driving you insane, and you found yourself feeling grateful for the fact that everyone else had left by then.

TATTOO ARTIST! CHOSO ╾ dropped to his knees, placing your thighs over his shoulders and pulling you slightly forward. The skirt you had decided to wear that day flipped over your stomach, exposing your black undies and just how wet you were all for him. His lips found your right inner thigh, kissing and nipping your skin while holding your gaze. You were looking at him in wonder, chewing on your bottom lip in anticipation of his next move.

TATTOO ARTIST! CHOSO ╾ smoothed his hands over your thighs, until his right one settled over your crotch. His thumb swiped over the wet patch on your undies and you heard him swear under his breath. "So wet and I've only kissed you.." He shook his head in feign disappointment as he used his finger to pull your underwear to the side. You couldn't even remember how you found yourself in that position; your mind was consumed by Choso and what you hoped he was about to do soon.

TATTOO ARTIST! CHOSO ╾ looked at you from below, his gaze intense and hungry- "Can I?", he asked for the second time that night, and you gave him a nod once again. But this time it wasn't enough. "I'm going to need you to speak up, darling". Through whines and whimpers, you managed to give him the verbal consent he needed to hear from you; "Yes! Please, just- Do something.."

TATTOO ARTIST! CHOSO ╾ cooed at the desperation lacing your voice. "Atta girl". And with that, his face disappeared in between your thighs. He buried his face into your cunt, his tongue lapping up your juices and flicking over your clit. A groan sounded from him, along with a muffled mumble of how good you taste, right before you felt his lips wrapping around your clit and sucking. Your hands practically flew to hold onto his head, your fingers threading through his tied up locks- you couldn't decide whether you wanted to pull him closer or pull him off. Everything you were feeling was overwhelming; your moans sounded deafening in your ears and the intensity of his pierced tongue on your clit was enough for you to slowly lose your sanity.

TATTOO ARTIST! CHOSO ╾ could live forever in between your thighs and with his head buried into your cunny. Your taste was intoxicating and addicting. It only made him wonder how much sweeter you would taste after cumming, and how much sweeter your moans would sound. How pretty you would look. He was a determined man. As much as he didn't want to, he had to catch his breath and so he pulled back. "Such a sweet, pretty pussy.." He murmured, more to himself. You could feel one of his fingers teasing your hole and before you knew it, he was slipping his digit inside you. "Tight too.. Fuck."

TATTOO ARTIST! CHOSO ╾ got up, looming over your slumping form on the chair with his finger knuckle deep inside you. You looked up at him with doe eyes, your breath baited. His thumb was lazily circling your clit as he slowly pushed in a second finger causing you to cry out and hold onto his hand that was in between your legs. "You're doing so good f'me, baby.. That's it..". His encouragement only added to your pleasure, and while it felt embarrassing, you were already close.

TATTOO ARTIST! CHOSO ╾ could feel it. Your tight heat enveloping his fingers had his mind wandering to how good you'd feel around his cock. But that had to wait. His fingers began moving skillfully inside you, curling upwards to hit directly your sweet spot and his lips claimed yours once again, swallowing your moans and whimpers. His fingers were moving fast and hard, driving you even closer to your release. You tried to warn him, tell him that you were close, but he was kissing you with such fervor you found it hard to resist him.

TATTOO ARTIST! CHOSO ╾ could feel you tightening, but he never expected to feel your thighs clenching over his hand and your release gushing around his fingers so soon; it was nothing he would complain about, though. He slowed down but didn't stop; instead he helped you ride out your orgasm, his forehead pressed against yours as he looked into your eyes. When you began squirming due to the overstimulation, that's when he knew he had to move away and let you breathe normally again - not that you would be able to.

TATTOO ARTIST! CHOSO ╾ crouched down, taking his fingers out of you and showing them to you. "You made such a mess", and you looked half-shocked as he cleaned his digits off with his tongue. He stood up on his full height with a laugh and walked away, leaving you bewildered on the chair. Was that it? "Um..", you began and looked down at him when he crouched once more in between your legs and cleaned your mess with a cloth. "Hm?" He cocked one eyebrow, but his gaze remained focused on his task at hand. "Aren't.. I mean, won't we..?", you tried to subtly explain to him, only to earn a truly genuine laugh from him.

TATTOO ARTIST! CHOSO ╾ got up and helped you get dressed, "I wanna take you out first, what do you take me for?". That had you laughing this time, getting up from the seat on wobbly legs with his help. He escorted you all the way to the exit, a cheeky grin on his pretty face and a playful glint in his eyes. "I think I have a cancellation tomorrow. I'd be more than happy to finish up.. your tattoo".

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littlexscarletxwitch · 5 months

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Hi, would you be able to do a mutual pining yelena x avenger!reader kinda thing where yelena has been ignoring reader because she doesn’t know to how to deal with her feelings and when reader confronts her, yelena admits that she likes her? Mainly angst with fluff at the end if possible. Love your fics!!

── ༊*·˚⋆ 𝗶 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗳𝘂𝗰𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂

paring: yelena belova x fem!reader

tag(s): fluff, some angst, mutual pinning, nat being the big sis

warning(s): yel having a hard time admitting her feelings, grammatical errors, unedited

word count: 1.8k

note: Soooooo sorry it took me soooo long to post this. I FUCKING LOVED THIS REQUEST btw. Also guys, it's taking me so long to post fic because a) my laptop is just a bitch and won't work, and b) I guess I'm going through a writer's block and it's kinda hard to find the motivation to write. But I'll try my best. Lots of love, M <3

requests are open! + check my rules + masterlist <3

Your legs were sore, you couldn't feel your arms anymore and you were gasping for air, but it wasn’t over until one of you was down.

“Can’t we take a break?” you whined out as you tried dodging Yelena’s fist but still made contact with your body and you groaned out in pain.

“Focus, Y/n,” Steve called out, before Yelena would punch again.

You knew she was holding back, measuring her strength, she always would when training with you. And you didn’t know if you found that reassuring or mocking. You kicked her in the stomach, but it still did not affect her, it was quite the opposite really.

“That’s all you got?”

“Why? Wanna try something else?” you teasingly said while winking at her.

You got her off guard, she wasn’t expecting your cocky self to show up while training, and seized the moment to swift her off her feet and got on top of her.

“Was this what you had in mind?”

Your hands quickly found her wrists while your body pressed into her abdomen pushing her down so she wouldn’t get out of your hold.

“Okay, I think it’s enough,” Steve called out, sensing you had gone off track.

Both you and Yelena knew that she could easily get out of your hold, but still it took her two minutes to do so. You didn’t want to let her go that easily, you felt your whole body burning just by the thought of her skin against yours, still you stood up and got on moving before the two of you could have a say on what just had happened.

That was how it always went with Yelena, one moment you had the courage to openly flirt with her and a second later you would run back to your dorm second guessing the whole interaction. You wanted to do more, each and every time, but she was so nonchalant about you flirting with her that you convinced yourself that it was just that, a flirty friendship.

And most of the time you were okay with it, playing dumb about your own feelings. But then shit like that would happen, you would brush her skin, or would make her laugh, or just look at her, and the thought of a friendship would fly out of your mind. That was why you would lock up in your room, trying to calm and persuade yourself to not let your stupid feelings get in the way.

And the same stupid thing would happen to Yelena, which you didn’t know about.

“You want to talk about it?” Yelena heard her sister's voice as she watched you heading out the training room.

“I wasn’t holding back, I swear.”

“Not about your punching,” she raised her brow at her little sister.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Yelena shrugged it off as she grabbed her bottle of water and took a big sip.

“Lena, I know you,” Natasha took advantage of the fact that her sister was chugging down water. “I know we don’t do feelings, we don’t trust people. But that was the old us, that was the red room. We have to put that shitty part of our lives behind us for good.”

“And I have,” Yelena scoffed.

“Then why haven't you done something about it?” Yelena knew her sister meant you, she didn’t have to clarify. “At least, give it a go,” Natasha sighed. “If not for you, then for her.”

“She doesn’t—.”

“You never know, Lena. Neither will she, if you don’t tell her,” and with that Natasha left her sister to her own thoughts.

“Suka,” she mumbled under her breath, because Natasha was right. She was always right about everything, it was the power that came with being a big sister—her big sister—, and she hated it when she was right.

She knew she had to do something about it, about you. But the fear of rejection, of feeling unwanted felt too much to bear. She wasn’t going to open up her heart just for someone else to crush it. But maybe, just maybe she could trust you not to crush it.

[...]

Still, it was easier said than done. It took her a full week to finally come to the conclusion that she was, actually, madly in love with you. A week full of stress and anxiety because deep down she felt like she didn’t deserve to have these feelings towards you.

And now that she knew exactly how she felt about you, it fucking terrified her. So she did what she thought was best and put some space in between the two of you. The thought of you clouded her brain and it was starting to affect her line of work, and she couldn’t have that. Being part of the avengers gave her life meaning, and she was not going to let her stupid feelings ruin that for her. Even though she wanted to be close to you, and just melt into your arms.

Of course, her coldness didn’t go unnoticed by you. You were confused, though. It wasn’t like Yelena to just shut you out. Even though you wanted more than just a friendship out of her, you wanted to consider yourself a friend of hers and it hurt that she was just avoiding you.

You didn’t know what was going on, she just felt out of your reach. You asked her sister about it, she just told you to give her space and she would be okay, before muttering something under her breath and went on with her day. You asked Kate and she just completely avoided the topic and changed the subject.

The more she didn’t talk to you, not even glance at your direction, the more you felt like you had done something wrong, maybe she had found out about your feelings and now she was avoiding you because of them. She probably felt uncomfortable about them, she probably wanted nothing to do with you. And who were you to decide otherwise?

You talked to Steve, making sure to not have more training lessons with her, only to find out she had already asked the same thing. You knew it was stupid to feel as if your heart was breaking since you wanted the same thing, but it did feel like shattering to pieces. You just nodded, a tight smile finding its way to your lips and went to your room before shedding any tears.

This whole thing was bullshit. Yes, maybe she didn’t feel the same way you did about her. But the both of you were full grown-ups, you should be professional about it and act like nothing had happened. Because in reality it didn’t, not that you were aware of it. So you decided that you were going to give her a piece of your mind.

You searched for her throughout the entire building and finally found her in the training room. Of course she was there, you should have thought of coming there earlier.

For a trained assassin she didn’t notice your presence, too caught up in her own mind, focusing on her breathing and throwing punches at the boxing bag.

You cleared your throat. “Got a minute?”

She looked over her shoulder, finally acknowledging you there, and you swore you watched as her whole body just tensed up by the sound of your voice.

“I’m kinda busy right now,” she mumbled before throwing two more punches.

“It won’t take long,” you insisted, wanting to get this over with.

“Look, I really need to—.”

You cut her off. “I don’t know who told you or how you found out, but yes, it’s true, okay?” you finally got her attention. “I just thought you would be professional enough to not let this get in the way and pretend like nothing happened. Which is what I also wish for.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You avoiding me,” you quickly mumbled, a tint of concussion in your tone. “I get it, but let’s just put this behind us and act like propper adults.”

“No, I’m aware of that part,” she scoffed, embarrassed to admit to you what she had been up to. “What I mean is, what have I found out?”

Your brows furrowed. “About my… me… and you,” you gave yourself a second to think her words through. “Hold on a second, you don’t know?”

“What don’t I know?”

“You don’t,” you finally added two plus two and realised that Yelena had no recollection whatsoever about your feelings, but still something was off. “Why have you been avoiding me then?”

You watched her as her mouth opened and closed, searching for the right words.

“What did I ever do to you for you to completely avoid me, huh?”

“You did nothing, I just…”

“You just what?” you scoffed, now anger filling your tone. “You just decided it was fun to ignore me?”

“No! God, no.”

“Then what is it?!” the two of you were pretty much screaming at each other.

“Because I like you, damn it!” she finally confessed. “Is it so hard to see?”

Your eyes winded. “You like me? You have been avoiding me because you like me?”

“I know, not my brightest moment. But it's just that you… you just…” she gestured to her brain. “You’re just stuck here, and I can’t get you out. At first I was scared to admit my own feelings to myself,” she took a deep breath. “But then Tasha said something and it made me realise that there’s nothing wrong with having feelings. But then I had to admit to myself that I really fucking like you. And I just… I just got scared because you might not feel the same way, and you might just push me away,” another deep breath. “And I decided that I would push you away first… and so I did.”

“So you like me.”

“Yes,” her brows furrowed. “Was that all you got?”

“I mean… it’s the part that matters most,” you grinned at her.

“What do you mean?”

“I really fucking like you too,” you said cupping her cheeks. “I thought you knew and that was why you were avoiding me. But now I get it, I make you nervous,” you said teasingly.

“I wouldn’t use that word…” you rolled your eyes before shutting her off with your lips, finally giving in and kissing her.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now,” you whispered over her lips as you deepened the kiss.

Her lips were soft and rough, and they had some saltiness to them due to her being all sweaty. But you didn’t mind at all, in fact you really like it.

“Remember last time we were here?” you whispered in her ear, trailing a path of kiss down her jaw and neck.

“You mean… that time we last trained?” she sounded breathlessly and it sent a shiver down your whole body.

“If I remember correctly, which I know I do…” you gently bit her skin earning a hiss out of her lips. “You were on the grown and I was on top of you, remember?”

“Yes…” she said as her fingers ran through your hair.

“Want to pick up where we left it off?”

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

-M

#yelena belova #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova x y/n #yelena belova x fem reader #yelena belova imagine #florence pugh #florence pugh x reader #littlexscarletxwitch's fic #requests by lovely anons ‘๑’

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