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ikeuverse · 22 days

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MR. FUNNY GUY — l.heeseung

PAIRING: heeseung x fem!reader GENRES: fluff, humor WC: 3.8k+

WARNINGS: a few swear words, mentions of alcohol. yeji, sunghoon's sister, is portrayed in this fic as being of age, because there is a part that insinuates that she has been drinking.

NOTES: this came to me as a totally random thought and made me want to write it, without pretension. yes, konon is written as jake's girlfriend just because i wanted something totally different, and i've never seen anyone put her as the girlfriend of any of the boys. idk, nothing special, hehehe. i hope you like it!

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Every group of friends consists of having outstanding personalities or a representative for each thing among them. Heeseung could be the personification of the funny kid.

He had always been in charge of making the best jokes and making everyone laugh ever since he met his friends at the end of high school and the beginning of university. With Heeseung around, it was as if there was no sadness at all.

Even his attitude was that of a big, awkward, funny guy, which gave him even more credit for his antics.

Heeseung was responsible for making Jake stop crying when he got his first low grade in calculus at university. Not even his girlfriend was able to cheer him up, but Heeseung trying to prepare a smoothie and forgot to close the lid of the blender, causing all the fruit and mixtures to fly around the kitchen... Oh, that got a good laugh out of Jake. And a few curses from Jay, for sure.

Heeseung was also responsible for making Sunghoon and Yeji cry with laughter a week after their puppy went missing. She was crying and he said he would help his friends find her, even if their hopes were slim. Heeseung did find her, but that didn't stop him from coming back all wet and with mud all over his shorts because the dog had wandered into a garden and he ran with his life to rescue her. Telling that story out loud made it all worthwhile in the end.

What Heeseung never managed was to get many smiles out of you, Yeji's best friend. It wasn't as if you and she joined Sunghoon's group of friends very often, but when you did, you were the only one who stayed quietly in the corner of the room and didn't crack a smile when he made a joke.

At first, it didn't make much difference to him, not least because you only appeared occasionally and Heeseung only found out about you sometime later. Because you really were so quiet that you seemed almost invisible. But as time went by and Yeji attended more and more of the boys' meetings – even more so after she and you made friends with Jake's girlfriend – Heeseung didn't want to admit it, but he started to feel a bit insulted.

Why weren't you laughing at his jokes? Why didn't you crack a single smile at his antics in front of his friends? You were supposed to hate him, in Heeseung's mind. That was the only explanation for why he never saw a single curved movement of your lips.

"Relax, man" Sunghoon said one night when the two of them were in the kitchen preparing the popcorn for the movie. "Yeji said that Y/n is like that, very closed," he took a larger bowl to pour the contents into, placing it next to another in case he needed a spare. "She took a while to open up to the girls, so maybe it's nothing personal."

So it would seem. Heeseung thought, rolling his eyes as he tried to forget about it and focus on the movie night they all had together.

A whole month passed and he tried not to focus on the thought that you didn't like him, because if that were the case, Heeseung would have gotten there first. He knew everyone there before you did, so if you didn't like him, you might as well not hang out with them anymore and just be friends with Yeji and Jake's girlfriend.

But no, that night what he wanted to happen happened. And without expecting much, without creating any expectations that you would smile at him.

"What are you three doing?" Sunghoon approached and ruffled Yeji's hair, hearing his little sister grumble and curse him for it.

"Trying to make sushi at home" she huffed "But Konon's the only one who can, and she gives the hardest tasks to me and Y/n to do."

"Come on, I think we're doing fine," you said, avoiding looking at Konon because you knew she was laughing at the two of you.

You held up a hot roll you had just rolled, hoping it wouldn't fall out of your hand and spill all the rice. Your eyes met Sunghoon's and then looked at Heeseung, who was standing in the kitchen doorway.

"You're doing a great job," Sunghoon complimented.

"Yeah, long and crooked... Looks like Sunghoon" Heeseung pointed to the hotroll in his hand, and he almost shouted when he heard the sound of your laughter.

It wasn't possible what Heeseung's eyes were seeing at that moment. You. Laughing and then smiling at him... Did that really happen?

Sunghoon abruptly turned to Heeseung as if he was thinking the same thing. Of course, he and the boys were the only ones to hear Heeseung's lament that you never smiled at anything he did. But now it had just happened.

And he wasn't sure if he wanted to see it again, because strangely Heeseung's heart was pumping in a way that he wasn't happy about. Not to mention the fact that, apart from thinking about your smile and the sound of your laugh for weeks, the boy wasn't proud to say that he had dreamt about it.

Was it stupid to say that he had actually dreamed of your smile? Shit, that couldn't be possible.

"Heeseung!" Jake shouted to get his friend's attention, snapping his fingers in front of his face.

"Fuck, what a fright" Heeseung wriggled in his chair "What's wrong?"

"I've been calling you for about five minutes, what world were you in?"

"In the world where Y/n keeps smiling at him" Sunghoon hummed.

Fucking bastard... How did Sunghoon have to be so direct like that? All right, his friends knew and couldn't stand to hear Heeseung fantasize about it for weeks, but hearing it out loud from someone else made him feel like a bit of an idiot.

"In my defense, I'm still in shock about this" he tried to say, hearing Jay's laughter from across the room.

"Still? How long has it been... like, three weeks? A month?" he asked, already knowing the answer. If Heeseung were to count, it had been a month and a few days, because every month the girls tried to make a different food. And he distinctly remembers his skills – not unlike Konon's – in rolling the seaweed into sushi.

"Do you like her?" Jake sprawled further back on the sofa, almost throwing his legs over Heeseung's lap. Sunghoon was sitting on the floor staring at the TV while the movie was still playing.

"What? No" he said too quickly, regretting it the moment all the boys' eyes landed on him.

"Dude, you literally went to great lengths just to make her laugh for you" Jay got up from his chair to walk over to Sunghoon and sit down next to him on the floor.

"And when that happened, you didn't stop talking about it the whole time," Jake added.

"I said you could all make me stop talking—"

"We don't want to, it's cute" Sunghoon smiled "Besides I think it happened a few more times after sushi night."

"What?" it was Heeseung's turn to shout, startling Jake who was cursing at him quietly as he curled up on the sofa.

At that moment Heeseung was standing in the living room, pacing back and forth near the TV and watching his friends with mixed feelings. Jake was still recovering from his shock, Sunghoon was pressing his lips together, feeling guilty for saying it just then. While Jay held in his laughter and closed his eyes to wait for the conversation to unfold.

"You're just telling me about this now? Fuck Sunghoon, what do you mean?"

"Dude, I'm sorry" he said, "It's just that you got so excited about it that if I told you she smiled a few more times, you might explode."

"I'm exploding right now" from the coloring of his face, it could be possible.

What do you mean you smiled at Heeseung or something related to him and Sunghoon didn't say anything at all? Now he wanted to know, what was the occasion? Had he done something funny, said something at the wrong time, or made a joke? Or did you genuinely smile just because he was around? What had been the circumstance in which you smiled at him?

"All your gears are turning at the moment and I think it's my fault" Sunghoon got up from the floor, straightening his pants and then sighing, "But she smiled at times when you weren't looking."

"Why?"

"Look, I know your mind because I've lived with you for years, but I have no idea what she was thinking about it" Sunghoon's words had a unique effect on Heeseung. He was even more pensive.

"Yeah, he's right," Jake said.

"You too..." Heeseung then turned to Jay.

"Dude, we talked about this for hours and worked it out together," he defended himself, cringing when the other threatened to approach.

"Hey, calm down!" Sunghoon held him by the shoulders even though he knew his friend would do absolutely nothing to any of the three "Now that you know, you can do something about it."

"Yes, kill the three of you."

"Or talk to her and ask why" Jake shrugged and stood up, giving his best smile in response "Now how about we order something to eat? I'm starving."

"No, no more drinks for you today, young lady" Sunghoon snatched the glass from Yeji's hand, listening to his sister's protests even though she was already a little upset.

"But hey, we're celebrating" she tried to catch it, but to no avail, her older brother was taller and would surely use that to his advantage.

"Celebrating what? The loss of your liver?" Heeseung looked around at the number of glasses on the kitchen counter.

He sighed as he imagined that the owner of that house would have an extremely difficult time cleaning up, but his thoughts were soon cut loose by the sound of laughter that flooded the room. His body went still and his eyes widened at the sight of your standing in front of the kitchen door.

"Hey, Heeseung, you look like you've seen a haunting" you waved at him, smiling briefly and then turning your eyes back to the Park siblings.

"He just heard something" Sunghoon added.

Not knowing what it was, you didn't bother asking him and just walked into the kitchen where the three of them were still standing.

"What's going on?" you asked.

"Yeji's already drunk, so let's go home."

"But she's celebrating," you pouted "It's not every day you get an A in Professor Choi's class."

"The worst professor at that university" Yeji picked up a glass to raise and pretend to toast, then put it back on the counter.

"But you've had enough, so I think you'd better go home" he looked at his sister and then at you "Has Jake taken Konon yet?"

"They just got home, Jay told me as soon as I came into the kitchen" you looked around for something to drink "And you two, what are you doing here?"

Sunghoon had gone after Yeji before he left and Heeseung had been in charge of looking for you, so the two of them could take you home safe and sound. But he didn't want to say that out loud.

"We came after you two," Sunghoon replied.

"Okay, let's go" Yeji whined "I won't be able to finish my drink anyway."

"Not even if we just have one more beer? It'll be quick and—"

"Nope" Heeseung stood in front of you when you threatened to approach the fridge. Looking up thanks to his height, this was the closest he had come to you since you two met.

It might have been the effect of the drink or the moment itself, but he looked glistening and that had – strangely – made your heart flutter.

Blame the drink, blame the drink, please.

"Come on Y/n, these two dullards don't know what fun is" Yeji pushed past Heeseung, ignoring his protests as she grabbed you by the arm and pulled you out of the kitchen.

"That's it man, a few more moves and you two would be kissing in this kitchen" Sunghoon held Heeseung by the shoulders without missing an opportunity to tease him.

He acted on instinct to stand in front of you so that you wouldn't advance into the kitchen, right? He also ignored the distance between the two of you because he miscalculated his steps and Sunghoon was right to say how close you and Heeseung were. But those thoughts had to be pushed aside as quickly as possible.

And that happened when Jay's voice echoed in Heeseung's ears, standing next to his friend's car.

"Can you take Y/n home?" he asked. Heeseung didn't want to show his shock, but the orbs almost popping out in the expression that caught him off guard made Jay laugh right away "I've had a few drinks and I certainly won't be able to drive."

"But—"

"Take her and come back for me" Jay handed Heeseung the keys to his car.

"Why don't you just go along? I can drop you home later."

"Because I'm not finished here yet" Jay's lips protruded forward in a pout, he took a few steps away from Heeseung, nodding and smiling at his friend "And I don't want to witness anything pornographic in my car. Unless I'm the one doing it," he shouted the last part and Heeseung turned sharply in the direction you were with the Park siblings.

He would have given anything at that moment for you to be so drunk that you hadn't heard any of the shit Jay had said so far.

"Where's Jongseong going?" Yeji asked when he saw the boy disappearing among some people in the garden of the house.

"He said he didn't finish whatever it is in there" Heeseung sighed "Come on Y/n, I'll take you home."

None of you missed the mischievous giggle that escaped from Yeji, soon to be joined by Sunghoon. Heeseung knew very well about his friend, but why did his little sister even seem to be complicit?

"Do you know where I live?" you asked so naturally that Heeseung had forgotten how serious you were whenever you were around him.

"No, but you can tell me while we go in Jay's car," he said, and you just agreed and let him guide you to the vehicle. Neither of you cared what the Park siblings said as you and Heeseung walked to Jay's car. He showed himself to be a tremendous gentleman by opening the door for you and checking that everything was okay until you buckled your seatbelt so he could close the door and turn the car around.

"Can we go?" he asked and you nodded, giving Heeseung the coordinates so he could get to your house.

For Heeseung, the silence was necessary while he reorganized his thoughts because, for the first time, he was in a place alone with you. That had never happened since the two of you met.

Now for you, the silence was agonizing because it made you think and observe. To think about how hard you'd tried to get away from that man next to you and to observe how well he drove. His hands firmly gripping the leather of the steering wheel, his long fingers drumming now and then when they stopped at a traffic light or how agile his hand was at holding the gearshift. You also found yourself swallowing when his hand accidentally hit your leg when changing gears. He wasn't doing it on purpose, you knew that, but it was inevitable not to smile quickly.

"We're here" he was the first to break the silence, indicating that he had followed your coordinates very well, and now the two of you were parked inside Jay's car and in front of your apartment complex.

You looked out of the window, a sigh escaping your lips as you looked back at the boy in the car sitting next to you.

"Thanks, Heeseung" you said sincerely, opening a smile when his eyes met yours. Heeseung smiled too, but he didn't look so happy about it. He seemed... Annoyed?

"Can I ask you something, Y/n?" he said just like that, not even bothering to respond to your thanks. But you didn't mind either, after all, your sobriety was starting to kick in, but even so, your alcohol-addled body made you more curious than usual.

"Anything," you said.

It took him a while to formulate that question, pondering whether he should really ask it or just let it go and get on with his life as if it didn't affect him. But it certainly did. Heeseung knew why he had dreamt it, he had to ask.

"Why haven't you ever smiled at me?" might seem like a silly question from the outside, or even sad if the person was as sentimental as Heeseung.

At first, your eyebrows drew together in surprise. But then everything relaxed and you unbuckled your belt to turn around and face the boy.

"What do you mean?"

Heeseung repeated your gesture a few seconds later, unbuckling his belt and turning to face you too.

"I mean, ever since we met you've never smiled at anything I've done," he shrugged, trying to sound firm in his words, not wanting to waver or show how ridiculous it might seem "Surely Yeji has already let it slip that I'm the clown of the group and, I don't know, you're the only person who's never given me a single smile."

"Does that bother you?"

No. He should answer, to appear tougher.

"Yes, a little" Heeseung didn't want to follow his thoughts, he wanted to act on the emotion of the moment "I thought you didn't like me or, at worst, thought I was so dull that you begged the girls to get away every time we met in a group."

He was being so honest with you, opening up so genuinely that you felt a little bad. Maybe your way of acting on everything you'd heard hadn't been nice, you might have been a bit extreme with it.

"I'm sorry" was all you managed to say, without knowing exactly why you were apologizing. Whether it was for your reaction or for never getting to Heeseung and wanting to get to know him.

"Why?" he asked.

You didn't want him to ask, so you wouldn't have to explain yourself, you'd get out of the car and drive away. But Heeseung's sparkling eyes seemed to call out to you every second, guiding you to him as if you belonged there, staring at him as the words came freely out of his mouth.

"We have a group of friends at college and certainly Yeji's brother and his friends are sometimes a topic," your gaze quickly shifted to the window behind Heeseung. Anything being more interesting than his eyes paying attention to you right now "I once commented that... Well..."

"Say, it's okay," he tried to encourage you and you looked back at him, could blame it on the drink if something got out of hand, and would say the next day that you didn't remember anything you were saying. Even though by then your sobriety had reached more than half of your body.

"I told I thought you were very handsome" you nibbled your lower lip and continued, not even giving Heeseung time to process the information "A friend of ours said that you were not only handsome but funny, but that was a danger."

"What? Why?" he tried to shake off the tingling feeling in his chest and his cheeks heating up at the confession. So you thought he was handsome from the start.

"Have you ever heard of the theory of the funny boy being a danger?" you crossed your arms and snorted when Heeseung denied it with a nod "He'll make you laugh so much, you'll laugh. Laugh and laugh until you're naked in his bed."

It was his turn to laugh, hiding his face with his hands and messing up his hair.

"Shut up, don't laugh," you groaned in frustration, uncrossing your arms and trying to push his hand away from your face. The contact was electrifying, even if it only lasted a few seconds. Heeseung uncovered his face and looked at you.

"So Yeji's friend said that about me, and you believed it?" Heeseung wanted to sound confident as he raised an eyebrow, even though, if he had to get out of that car, his legs would be as soft as jelly.

"Well..." a few seconds passed and you sighed, "I avoided contact so I wouldn't have to believe it. I don't know, preserve myself as much as possible since you seem to be well known at the university."

"So you didn't want to smile at me because you thought you'd end up in my bed?" Heeseung leaned forward a little, looking a little defiant. You leaned forward too, your hands resting on your lap.

"You make all the girls smile, what difference would it make if I smiled at you?"

Don't be so honest, Heeseung thought to himself, but it was already done when he launched into it.

"Maybe because your smile is beautiful and when that happened on sushi night, I ended up dreaming for a long time."

"What? Did you dream about my smile?" you almost shouted in the car.

"Too many questions for one night, don't you think?" Heeseung pretended to shake himself, looking for the car keys that he hadn't even taken out of the ignition. Turning on the air conditioning might be a good idea since neither of you made any mention of leaving.

"Too many confessions for one night" you leaned back in your seat.

"I think we're going to need a few more nights for you to tell me more" he also leaned back in his seat, but his head remained turned in your direction.

"Are you asking me out on a date?"

"Would you?" he asked back, a stupid – but extremely beautiful – smile adorning his lips as he said again, "I want to prove that friend of yours completely wrong."

"I'd love that, then" to his surprise, asking you out had been completely light-hearted. He didn't feel like throwing up or running away, or even saying something silly, stuttering... Nothing. Heeseung was just himself as he watched you bend down to him and brush your lips against the corner of his.

From the way Heeseung's head was tilted, giving indications that he wasn't going to move, you purposely kissed him on the corner of the lips, pulling away before he made any risky moves.

"I'm waiting for a message from you so we can make an appointment, mr. funny man."

You winked at him, watching as the tip of Heeseung's tongue traced the exact spot where your lips touched the corner of his. The smile never left him as he watched you open the door, wave, and close it to leave.

A smile had never left Lee Heeseung like that.

#enhypen fluff #heeseung fluff #enhypen #enhypen heeseung #heeseung #lee heeseung #enhypen au #heeseung x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen masterlist #lee heeseung fluff #heeseung fanfics #lee heeseung x reader #heeseung imagines

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allfearstofallto · 3 months

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Nice

Yandere childe x reader

1.7k

Synopsis: He'll buy you absolutely anything your heart desires, but he longs for you to describe things as more than just "nice"

TW: Yandere, abusive themes, bribery, NSFW themes, toxic relationship, Dub-Con

AN: I haven't written in FOREVER so forgive me if it's not awesome or if it feels incomplete. My last account got shadow banned :(, doesn't help that I was already pretty depressed before that. No time for sob stories here, it's been two years since I've written anything and I miss writing, thanks for joining me!

Gems that dazzled and gleamed stars in the night sky, silver that was carved painstakingly from the mines in Liyue, an appearance that was beautiful, but still kept up with the most current fashion trends. He had truly outdone himself with this one, this has to be the one that would take your breath away. The one that would make you leap into his arms and pepper his face with kisses from your sweet lips that he rarely got the chance to taste.

When it came to gifts for you, there was no price tag. Childe would spend every mora he had if it meant he could even get a smile out of you and spend he often did. Money meant nothing to him, being a Fatui harbinger, his paychecks were larger than he knew what to do with. After sending money back home to his family, he still had so much left and nothing that he longed for other than your affection. So, why not spend it on something else he cared about?

Your eyes ghosted over the ring he was showing you, encased in a black velvet box with red satin holding it up. It wasn’t an engagement ring, he’d assured you of that multiple times after you were taken aback by him holding it up to you. He knew you weren’t ready for that just yet, and he was willing to respect your wishes, but he still wanted to give you something to wear on that pretty little finger to show that you were his while you waited for the real deal. Your engagement ring would be much, much larger than the one he was gifting you now and it would incorporate details from both of your home countries.

The expression on your face was unreadable. It wasn’t quite a grimace, but it wasn’t a smile either. It was the usual face you made when you were given something. An equal mixture of discomfort and unease. “It’s…nice.” you mumbled quietly as he slipped the ring onto your finger.

There was that word again. Nice. It made him sick to his stomach every time he heard it fall from your pretty lips. But that was always what you said about his gifts, as if you couldn’t think of another word to describe how you felt about them. Rare spices imported from Sumeru? Nice. A custom hanfu made from only the finest silk to wear to the lantern rite? Nice. Wine aged for almost a decade and shipped straight from Mondstadt? Very nice.

You spoke that one word, but even then it felt like you were straining yourself to say that much. On multiple occasions, your displeasure with receiving such expressive gifts was expressed, but he told you that that didn’t matter. Mora was just an object to him, something that held no value, and yet you still held each gift as if they would collapse under your touch.

“You can tell me if you don’t like it,”

“No!” you quickly retorted back, holding your hand up to examine the ring once more, “Its…” you purse your lips to stop yourself from saying the word, knowing that he would only be upset with your lack of what he considered to be a proper answer, “I like it.”

With a sigh and a dramatic slump of his shoulders, he reached up and cupped your face. His hand felt like solid ice against your cheek. Childe often claimed that that was another thing he loved about you so much. How warm your body was in comparison to himself. He told you that when he someday took you to Snezhnaya to meet his family, you would be his personal heater, that he wouldn’t let you go for even a second during the duration of your stay there.

“You don’t even wear the earrings I got you anymore,” Childe’s long fingers traced from your cheek to the lobe of your ear, grazing the empty hole where jewelry would go.

“You know I can’t wear those at work,”

“Then quit your job,” He spoke those words so quickly, with no hesitation, a part of you was convinced you imagined it. But you working was a constant conflict of interest between the two of you, something you’d even argued about before.

The situation grew heated that day. Both of you, yelling back and forth about what you thought was right. You remembered seeing his eyes glow at the same time as his vision that rested on his hip, making your stomach drop. Childe would never hurt you, would he? But even you didn’t know the answer to that, you could never be too sure about what was going on in the mind of a harbinger. So you backed down slightly, telling him that it was something you would consider, and that answer sufficed with him for the time being.

“Childe-”

“Ajax,” he cut you off. He hated when you used his codename, claiming that as his future wife, you alone should be allowed to call him by his given name.

“Ajax," you exhaled harshly after speaking his name, "I really would like to work and be independent,”

For just the briefest of moments, his eyes went dull, his smile fell, his facade faltered and he was his true self. It only lasted for less than a second, the average person might not have even seen it, but you’d spent so much time with him. You knew his tells. You knew that even though he was smiling again, it was completely fake. He was angry, even if the gleam in his eyes didn't show it.

A cold kiss was pressed against your cheek, just a peck to get his point across. When he pulled away, still making eye contact, he was still so close that you could feel his shallow breath on your skin. He squatted down slightly to meet your eyes and whispered against your lips, “I don’t plan to let my wife work. Why don’t you quit now, have a little practice before we’re wed?”

He said that as a suggestion, but you knew it wasn’t one. With Childe there were only orders and threats, nothing in between. You had no choice on whether or not you’d get to work, on whether or not you got to live alone, on whether or not you married him. In his eyes, you were already his, and there was absolutely nothing you could do about it.

A lump was caught in your throat as you tried to figure out what to say. Could you even tell him that the prospect of marrying him was something that seldom crossed your mind? Something that even when you did think about, it brought a twinge of fear into your heart. That on multiple occasions, you considered leaving him, but your unease around him was what was making your stay.

“I…” you finally met his gaze as you tried to force words out of your tense body. His eyes felt so cold and the hand that he had managed to snake its way down onto your shoulder was gripping your flesh tightly. It was a warning that what you said next would matter, “I should just-”

“You should quit,” he spoke the last part of the sentence for you, not caring about what you truly wanted to say.

Eyes turned downcast, you gave a slow nod. There wasn’t much of a choice with him anymore, he was hellbent on that being your answer. He had given you an order, if you didn’t react the way he wanted you to, you would regret it.

The grip that was on your shoulder loosened, exhibiting that you had pleased him and another kiss was placed on your cheek as a reward. This time his lips touched just below your eyes, where tears were threatening to fall, “That’s my girl,” another peck right against your lips, “How about I buy you something special, huh? For being so good.”

You swallow slowly, trying to keep yourself from falling apart in front of him, clenching and unclenching your fist as a way to self soothe. Your voice was shaky as you delivered your stiff answer, “Sure. That sounds lovely.”

“How about a new pair of earrings,” he followed this up by lightly biting the side of your ear, “or maybe a new necklace,” you felt his warm tongue slide down from your ear to your collarbone, making all the hairs on your body stand up, “Or maybe even a new dress,” he spoke into your neck, his hand reaching down and trying to slide the dress you were wearing up your thigh, exposing your your bare skin to the air.

You jolted your body backwards, your hands placed against his chest in an attempt to keep the distance between the two of you. He was moving so fast. Too fast. Even though it had been a while since you and him had last been intimate, for him to try it again so suddenly was worrisome.

You didn’t dare look at his face. There was no doubt about it that he was upset at your response to his touch, he never liked when you rejected him. The hand that was placed against him, was taken into his. The way he held you was gentle, but you could still feel force behind his movement. The thumb of his hand traced the back of your palm as he held you, before lifting it up and placing a kiss against it. Right on your finger, right on the very expensive ring he’d just bought you, almost as a way to draw your attention to it once more.

“What’s gotten into you? Hm?” he had an eyebrow cocked and a grin on his face, “Pushing me away like that after I got you something so precious? You’re going to hurt my feelings.”

“I just don’t think I’m in the mood for this right now,” you mumbled, switching between looking at your dress you were fiddling with and his borderline unblinking eyes.

Silence fell over the two of you, to the point where you could hear your own heart beat, the sound of blood pumping in your ears, the sound of his breaths that were slightly heavier than normal. Childe was rarely quiet. It was hard to get him to keep his mouth shut. In a way his anger was scaled based on how loud he was, the quieter, the worse.

His large hand came into your sight again, making you flinch about what was coming ahead, but rather than being struck, he used his thumb to trace your lips, “Figure something out.”

#yandere genshin #genshin #genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #childe #yandere childe #yandere childe x reader #mdni

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cyberrose2001 · 10 months

Note

Hi hi! Your op drawings are so good?? My bby aaa drawing him (bots in gen) is so tough, I get too caught up in the details TT

Anyway, since I miss him lol I was wondering if I could request some... uh, gosh I hate this word but idk anything synonymous. Could I request pussydrunk tfp op?

Hope you're having a nice day/night btw <3

- 🍄

TFP pussydrunk!Optimus x reader

Hi hello!!I am very proud of this and it's probably up there with my list of my favourite fics I have ever written. Thank you so much for requesting and liking my silly sketches of the blorbo. I've written this as gender neutral <3

(lowkey ive been writing heaps of OP eating pussy,,, its a canon event for me i cannot intervene..... anyway its 11AM and i havent slept yet but i needed to finish hggggh *dies of horny*)

Warnings: Oral sex (reader receiving), edging, reader has a vagina.

Word count: 657

18+ ONLY! MINORS DNI

Spending time alone with you has learned to be one of Optimus' most treasured past times. But as much as it pains him, relaxing with you is a rare treat. The usual business of the base either keeps him up all night, or he genuinely has no time. However, he tries his best to make the most of it, whether he's relaxing with you, cuddling you, or with his head glued between your inner thighs.

Like right now. It was nearing two AM. Optimus has you sprawled out on your shared berth, his face pressed against your aching heat, finally finding sweet relief from his built-up arousal. It's been too fragging long since his face was buried in you. He misses it, and if Optimus had a choice, he would sacrifice everything he's worked for to keep you bare before him.

Two hours. Optimus had been lazily lapping at you for two hours now. At one point, his helm had lulled to the side to rest against your right inner thigh to not strain his neck. His glossa grows tired, and his energon roars through his hot frame.

His stamina is almost depleted compared to when he initially delved into your drenched pussy. Despite this, Optimus still has the capacity to tightly grip your hips, gently massaging them as you lie still for him. He is weary, yet he perseveres, ignoring his aching joints and pulsing spike painfully pressed against the berth because tonight is about you. He will make up for all those lonely nights you've spent in berth alone in one lengthy oral session.

It's very often that when Optimus gives you oral, his mind feels like he's been transported to a higher plane of existence, one where he has no responsibilities or obligations to lead a team, just the mind-numbing taste of you. It makes him dizzy and light-headed, similar to the buzz he gets when he has a high grade or two, but Optimus prefers revelling in you instead to get his high.

As ever patient as you are with your star-crossed lover, your hips still gently roll and shudder involuntarily against his glossa, and Optimus fucking loves it. He loves your soft cries when he sucks on your clit, and he loves when you clamp your legs around his helm when your orgasm is merely within reach. But he won't let you finish just yet, not when he's yet to relish and thoroughly drown himself in your sticky sweet.

His warm optics remain lazily trained on your face, only fluttering close when you squeeze his helm. The pressure from your thighs only heightens his hunger, a carnal desire to swallow every drop of your aphrodisiac juices.

"Mmmmm," You mewl, sweaty palms digging into the berth, "Fuck, I missed this… why don't we do this - aah - more often, baby…."

Optimus doesn't respond, and he can't because his processor is so intoxicated and aroused that he can't even form a single coherent sentence. It's quite ironic, he thinks. A mech of his nature that is so poised and articulate in his vocable is conned by his own desperate need to surrender his intake to his humans' essence.

"Mmmffh," He purrs into your heat, parting your sensitive lips with his glossa, lazily swirling around your bud before pressing a gentle kiss against it. He can't help but grind his spike into the berth below at your whimpers, servos kneading into your soft flesh, "More… Primus, I need more…."

You titter breathlessly, snaking a hand to the top of his helm to lightly press his face further into your pulsing heat, and Optimus delightfully grunts. You shiver, biting back a moan at the vibrations, "Go ahead, hun, you've got me for the rest of the night."

Optimus may need to blow a hole into the sun to prevent it from rising, since one night will never be enough to satisfy his thirst for you.

#transformers #transformers prime #transformers x reader #tfp optimus #tfp x reader #tfp optimus x reader #tfp optimus prime x reader #tfp x reader smut #valveplug #smut #cyberrosewrites

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freelancearsonist · 3 months

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Steve Harrington x fem!Reader

Rated MA for the most long-winded poetic smut i've ever written jfc 🤦‍♀️ slow burn fluff with a couple sprinkles of angst for flavor, reader uses fem pronouns and is described as having female parts, it's dirty y'all but at least they use protection

7,470 Words

A/N: you all know my mo by now i disappear for a year and then come back and lay down some god damned PORN. this fic is no exception to the rule. @shakespeareanwannabe requested this back in july and she literally just asked for a cute moment between steve and dustin, sorry you got 6k words more than you bargained for 😂 but also thank you for betaing and the constant validation you're the best ily 🖤

Steve’s not sure how it even worked.

He can still remember the look on Robin’s face when you agreed, how she was speechless for almost ten minutes because she couldn’t process what had just happened.

Steve’s reaction was about the same as hers, in all honesty. He’s gotten so used to striking out that asking people out has become something of a game to him. He knows he’ll get a no, and he knows Robin will laugh her ass off at him. But what can he say? He likes putting a smile on his best friend’s face.

Needless to say, you’ve shaken him. In the best possible way. Because your answer was three letters instead of two.

And now, he's a little bit in over his head.

Or, to be more accurate, a lot in over his head.

It seems like it’s been ages since he’s gone on a date, even though it’s only been a few months at most. He feels lost, like he’s completely unlearned everything he ever knew about girls.

He hates it, despises it with every fiber of his own being, but he also knows it’s true; he needs advice. And although he’ll never admit it to the little shithead’s face, there’s no one better he can think of going to than his very own protege. Who better to remind him of his own prowess than the person who learned everything they know from him?

One look at Dustin’s smug little face and Steve almost regrets it. Almost.

“Just can’t stay away, can you?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Steve rolls his eyes and gives the younger boy a little shove, camouflaging it with an affectionate pat on the back. “This is strictly business, Henderson.”

“Oh, is it now?” The younger boy’s voice takes on a smug tone as he folds his fingers together and leans back in his chair. “Well then, why don’t you have a seat? Step into my office.”

Steve rolls his eyes and slides into the booth, shooting a smile and a “thank you” to the kind waitress who delivers two milkshakes to their table.

Dustin takes his time and makes a meal of unwrapping his straw, feeding off of Steve’s clear impatience Steve’s fingers tap against the table, reminding himself that patience is necessary when you come to someone for a favor. It’s just that it’s Dustin, and Dustin knows exactly how to get under the older boy’s skin in the most annoying-yet-oddly-endearing fashion.

“So…” Dustin finally says after a lengthy sip of strawberry milkshake. “What brings you so humbly to me?”

“I’ve got a date.”

And Dustin, the little bastard–he laughs. A deep, rumbling belly laugh, so pure and unfiltered that the three other occupied tables in the diner pause their conversations to get a look at the boy clutching his sides.

Steve’s a little embarrassed by the attention, but even more embarrassed that Dustin’s reaction is so genuine. The fact that the idea of him having a date is so laughable is a bit of a punch to the gut. It hasn’t really been that long, has it?

When Dustin’s laughter finally dies down he realizes Steve’s face is completely serious, and it makes him giggle even more.

“Wait, you’re actually serious? Who on earth did you manage to pull?”

Steve’s nearly bashful as he says your name, and even more bashful when Dustin’s jaw visibly drops.

“No fucking way. I’d believe anyone else, but her? She’s like… hotter than Phoebe Cates. There’s no way you wouldn’t strike out with her.”

Steve’s immediately on the defensive. Is it really so hard to believe that he, former king of Hawkins High, could pull the most gorgeous girl in town?

But that’s just it. There’s really no one like you, not in his eyes. He’s admired you since freshman year and never once even tried with you because he knew he wasn’t worthy. You were always in the background–a beautiful, kind, smart, funny girl just out of his reach. Part of the reason he even asked you out was because he was so sure he would strike out. In the end, losing his confidence was exactly what he needed to pull the girl of his dreams.

And that’s why there’s so much riding on this. You’ve always been his biggest “what if”, the girl he wonders about when thinking that maybe not trying has been holding him back. And apparently, it has.

“Look, I don’t even know how it happened, okay? But she said yes, and… and I really don’t want to blow it.”

“Well duh. You’ll have to leave town if you blow it with her, you know that, right? If she doesn’t think you’re worth it, no one else in this town ever will again.”

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of!” Steve groans, slouching down so far in the booth that Dustin can just barely see his poor, overwhelmed face.

“Steve, listen…” Dustin’s voice takes on an almost fatherly quality, an omniscient tone that gives off the illusion of great hidden knowledge. He gets like this sometimes, and Steve’s not always sure that it is just an illusion. “Don’t let this go to your head, but you’re, like, one of the coolest guys I know. If she doesn’t like you… that’s her problem, not yours. Okay?”

Steve straightens in his seat, a little shocked to hear such kind words from a friend that he’s used to being mercilessly teased by.

“No, no, no, it’s going to your head. I take it all back. Forget I said anything.” Dustin’s hearty giggle makes Steve smile as he sets a wad of bills on the table and slides out of the booth.

“You’re not so bad Henderson, you know that?” He gives the younger boy’s full head of curls an affectionate ruffle. “Thanks, kid. I’ll radio later.”

Not that Steve didn’t have total faith in his young protege, but it’s still a relief that the pep talk turned out to be exactly what he needed to hear. Dustin’s right, after all. Steve’s worked hard to become the man he’s always wanted to be. He may not be dripping charisma or sex appeal the way he used to, but he’s much more comfortable in his own skin. That’s what counts, right?

And you really are his dream girl. The opportunity to take you out tonight, even if it ends up being your first and only date together, is an honor. He’s much less focused now on all the ways he could screw up, hyper-fixated on putting the effort in to make this the best night of your life.

That effort comes out in the carefully selected suit jacket he dons over his white button-up, the extra spritz of cologne, the careful touch-up shave to vanquish his five o’clock shadow, the extra ten minutes using the perfect amount of product in his hair so that it stays in place yet is still soft to the touch.

By the time he gets to Enzo’s (half an hour early, mind), he’s practically vibrating with nerves and anticipation. He’s never been much of an overthinker, but he sure is tonight. Is this place too much for the first date? Would you rather do something lowkey, like catch a movie or go for a walk in the park? He has to remind himself a couple of times that you agreed to this, that you wouldn’t have said yes if you weren’t interested in the arrangement.

To say he’s prepared for this is putting it lightly. He’s run through every possible scenario in his mind, gone over conversation starters and questions he wants to ask you over and over again until he knows exactly how he wants to phrase each thing.

And still, nothing could prepare him for when you walk through the door.

He has to physically restrain his jaw from dropping because in the moment he sees you, every well-planned thought and all etiquette is flushed down the proverbial pipes. You’re nothing short of breathtaking in a dress that hugs all the right curves and shows just enough cleavage to have him imagining what else there might be to see. Your hair is pinned back out of your face, eyes framed by just the slightest bit of makeup to make the color of your irises pop. He swears he’s never seen a shade quite like them. It’s like you move in slow motion as you approach him–he sees the entrance of the smoking hot love interest in every romantic comedy, complete with smoke and fireworks, as you move towards the table.

And then some sense of decorum returns to his addled brain, and he quickly shoots up so he can pull out your chair for you like a proper gentleman. He catches just the slightest whiff of your perfume, and he’s a goner. He’s ready to sign his life away to you, to yank his own heart out of his chest to offer to your careful hands.

He has to give his head a shake to compose himself before he goes any further off the deep end. No one’s ever thoroughly shaken him the way you have, and it’s been a matter of thirty seconds. It’s almost intimidating, the effect you have on him.

“You look… incredible,” he fumbles as he takes his seat across from you. “I mean, you always do, but… wow.”

The shy giggle you emit tugs at a heartstring he didn’t even know he had.

“Thank you,” you tell him with a genuine smile. “You clean up very well yourself.”

“I do like to put in some effort every once in a while.” He flashes the most charming smile he can muster, and just like that he’s back. His resolve to impress you is reinforced tenfold. You’ve shaken him, and it’s such an unfamiliar feeling that he’s practically bumbling. He wants to shake you just as badly.

The food’s delicious, and the conversation’s even better. He has a track record for taking out a more–for lack of a better term–bimbo-y type, and that’s definitely not you. You’re smart, you’re witty, but you don’t make him feel like an idiot. He’s so taken with you that he doesn’t even notice that three hours have passed until he looks around the room and notices that every table is now empty and bussed.

The waiter delivers the check, and Steve notices you gnawing on your lip.

“What’s on your mind?” He asks, trying not to be too prying.

“I don’t want this to be over yet.”

Steve smiles. He’s got you; hook, line, and sinker. He’s never been so sure of anything, and that surprises him. He’s used to dates who are easy to read and even easier to take home, and those aren’t the impressions you’ve been giving him. To know that you’re feeling exactly what he’s feeling is a huge confidence boost.

“I don’t either.”

Your hand is so small compared to his. That’s all he can think about as he strolls next to you, his fingers intertwined with yours. He’s always considered hand-holding to be child’s play, it’s never excited him before the way it does in this moment with you.

It’s pitch black in the park and he can hear the overlapping chirping of summer cicadas and grasshoppers, the perfect background noise now that the conversation has died down. It’s less about getting to know each other at this point and more just basking in each other’s presence, prolonging the inevitable because neither one of you can bear to call it a night when it’s been such a good few hours.

You’re shocked, to say the very least. Steve certainly has a reputation, and it’s not for being a romantic. Yet everything tonight has flown in the face of all the rumors you’ve been hearing since junior high. You figured he’d be a fun fling, and probably only one night at that–you’d made your peace with the idea. To find that he’s kind, considerate, funny, and can match your intellect and quick wit… it’s a very pleasant surprise. And that’s what has you out well past a decent hour, giddy over simply holding his hand like you’re a damned school girl all over again.

“I should probably let you go home,” Steve sighs wistfully. He hates to be the one to bring it up, but you’re on your fifth lap around the park and about to circle back to where your car is parked so now seems the best time.

You’re chewing your lip again, a thoughtful habit that makes his heart pound just a little bit harder.

Here’s the thing: you’re really not the bold type. You act confident, sure, but in practice it’s a lot more difficult for you. So no one’s more surprised than you are when you say, “You could come home with me. If you want.”

Steve’s definitely shocked, too. Less shocked at your proposition and more at the fact that he’s tempted to decline. Because no matter how much he’s been running through the back of his mind what you might look like under that gorgeous dress, he doesn’t want this to end there. For the first time in his life, he wants to find more meaning than sex out of a relationship. He doesn’t want to take you home and never see you again. He wants to take you out again, and again, and again, and again after that. He sees a future, for once, that doesn’t look dim and hopeless. That fact alone scares the shit out of him.

He realizes he’s waited way too long to reply and fumbles for an answer. “Of course I want to. I’d be an idiot not to. But…”

You chew that cursed bottom lip of yours again, and Steve has to focus on the obvious cue you’re giving him rather than the fact that he wants to be the next set of teeth around that lip.

He stops in his tracks, gently pulling on your hand to face him so he can take your other hand in his free one. “It’s not a bad but. I mean, I’m going to go home kicking myself for saying no because I really honestly do want to… well, y’know. But… I want to do this right with you. I want to take you out again. I want to get to know you and see where this goes. I can’t… I don’t want this to end tonight.”

He’s eternally grateful for how dark it is as he feels a flush consume his face. He can’t remember a time he’s been so honest and open, especially on a first date; but the look on your face tells him he’s done something right.

“Okay,” you tell him, squeezing his hands in yours. “You… honestly have no clue how nice it is to hear that.”

“Of course,” he continues, “if you just want me for my body, no hard feelings.”

You laugh at that, genuinely laugh, and Steve thinks it’s the best sound he’s ever heard.

“No,” you reassure him. “No, I… I wanna see where this goes, too.”

You’re stopped only a few paces from your car, and Steve knows with a twist of his gut that this is the end of the night. It makes his gut turn with disappointment, but also with anticipation of when he’ll see you next. Already, his mind is flooding with ideas of where he can take you and what you’ll do together.

You drop one of his hands so you can walk but keep a tight grip on the other until you get to your driver’s side door, hesitating outside because you’re still not ready for this to be over. It takes every ounce of restraint he has not to kiss you, unsure of if that would be moving too fast.

Thankfully, you make the call yourself. Leaning up on your toes, hands against his chest for balance, you press your lips against his and he has to summon every mite of strength not to moan. No one’s ever tasted so sweet, molded against him so perfectly. His hands drift from your shoulders down your arms, coming to rest on your waist as he pulls you just a little bit closer. It’s a fight of will not to overstep, to break off the kiss before it can become too heated. His mind is spinning by the time you break away. He’s aching for more, and he hopes you are too.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight, Steve.”

Your sweet voice replays in his mind all night, long after you’ve gotten into your car and driven away, long after he’s returned to his own vehicle and pulled the radio out from under the driver’s seat to check in with Dustin, long after he arrives home and soaks in a cold shower for longer than he probably should. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get your voice out of his head, and he couldn’t be any less upset about it.

He practically counts down the minutes until he sees you again. This time, he has a little less restraint. He greets you with a kiss–a sweet peck and a hand on your waist that leaves you aching for even more.

It’s a movie this time, a chance to enjoy each other’s company on a night you’re both too tired from working to engage in heavy conversation and getting to know each other further.

It starts with sharing popcorn, then holding hands, then somewhere along the way the film is completely forgotten in favor of your lips meeting his. His breath grows heavy as his hands hold your face, committing you to memory while resisting the urge to explore further. Your hands, meanwhile, are firmly on his thighs, gripping tightly to keep yourself steady as you do everything you can to keep yourself from crawling into his lap.

He whispers your name, and your grip on him tightens.

“W-we shouldn’t…” he murmurs, then gives up on the futile attempt at finishing his sentence so that he can pull you even deeper into the kiss as his tongue sweeps across your bottom lip.

It takes everything in him not to moan when your lips eagerly part to accept him.

Needless to say, once the credits start rolling you’re both more than a little hot under the collar.

“Let me buy you dinner,” Steve suggests as he woefully unwinds himself from you. Declining doesn’t even flicker through your mind as a possibility.

It’s not Enzo’s this time, but it doesn’t have to be. He could set a soggy peanut butter and jelly sandwich in front of you at this point and you’d still thank him for it. This time around, you’re not really as interested in the cuisine as you are just simply getting through this meal to what’s next. Because what’s next is all you’ve been thinking about since you walked through the doors the night of that very first date and saw Steve Harrington wearing a blazer for you. It’s a level of effort he’s definitely not known for–in fact, he’s built a reputation for putting in so little effort that it nearly made your jaw drop to see him trying. And it certainly made your heart skip a beat.

But then again, the Steve before you carelessly wolfing down his bacon cheeseburger seems very different from the Steve you knew in high school, even if you didn’t know that iteration as intimately as this one. That one was cool, collected, snarky and pompous and maddeningly desirable.

This Steve, your Steve, is nearly an exact foil. Much less cocky, a little less confident but more self-assured in the ways that actually hold meaning, less worried about what the people around him are observing of him than what you’re observing of him. He seems happier, more carefree, more eager to please others than simply himself. He’s grown so much in such a short amount of time, and you feel proud just for having the honor to witness it. Significantly more proud to be on the receiving end of his affections now that they hold the kind of value you’ve always wished they would.

He looks up and notices you staring at him while lost in thought, a small smile spreading across his lips as your eyes quickly dart away.

“What’s on your mind?” He questions as he licks a stray bit of ketchup from his thumb.

“Just… happy I’m here. With you.” It brings heat to your cheeks to admit it, but you don’t want him to go unappreciated in this moment.

It’s the right thing to say, because his smile grows even wider. “I’m happy too,” he admits. “I… I’ve wanted to ask you out for a while. Could never work up the courage, I guess.”

“Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington was intimidated by me?” You say it with a mock gasp, but your shock is more genuine than you give off. Never in a million years would you have thought that he, the man who could have whoever he wanted, would be worried over you saying no to him. It’s almost comical, especially considering the way you practically threw yourself at him on your first date. Of course then, you had no clue how much he’d developed as a person. You’re almost ashamed of your behavior now, as if you might’ve inadvertently been taking advantage of the new and improved Steve who isn’t just into you for a hookup.

He shrugs, nearly bashful at your teasing. “Never figured I was good enough for you. So I didn’t bother to try.”

You’re genuinely curious now, leaning in a little closer and brushing your fingers against his hand resting atop the diner counter. “What made you change your mind?”

“Honestly? I was so sure you’d say no that I asked just to give Robin a chuckle. She loves watching me get shot down.”

That makes you frown, and he’s quick to backtrack. “I wanted to! I just… I’ve had a bad track record lately. And you’re… you’re you. You’re the last person I should be worthy of.”

His eyes are quick to avert from your gaze, bottom lip tugged between his teeth as he contemplates whether he’s said too much.

“Steve…” you properly grab his hand now in the hopes that it’ll bring his eyes back to you, and it works. “You’re the only person I’ve deemed worthy in a long time, honestly.”

Steve Harrington is scaldingly warm. It’s one of many sensations forcing your mind into overdrive as he lays you delicately across the backseat of his beemer, one hand cushioning the back of your head while simultaneously deepening the already heated kiss and the other balancing his weight to lean over you in the cramped space without completely crushing you.

Your fingers tangle themselves into his soft brown locks, tugging ever-so-slightly as his tongue slips between your parted lips. He’s an eager explorer and you’re more than happy to let him take the lead, to show you all the skill you’ve heard so many whispers about.

You let out an involuntary moan as he wedges himself even closer to you, his body heat soaking through all the layers of clothing between the two of you and warming you all the way to your very bones.

You’re practically aching, ready to beg, and he knows it the second you wrap your legs around his waist in an attempt to get him even closer. If there’s one thing Steve Harrington’s good at, it’s assessing your needs. He pulls away just the slightest bit to adjust his position so he can get closer, wedging a knee between your legs to press right against your core, and it makes you jolt back against the car door at the same time his head hits the roof just a bit too hard.

You both pause for a moment, the reality of your situation hitting you simultaneously, and then you’re laughing. It’s light and edged with unresolved want, but it’s enough to fracture the tension of the moment.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “Shouldn’t have gotten so carried away. This isn’t how I want to do this.”

“No?”

“No. You deserve way better than this old beater,” he chuckles, then leans down to kiss you. This kiss is lighter, no longer edged with tension and lust. He kisses you just to kiss you–there’s no end goal to it this time.

“What could be better than a BMW?” You tease lightly, trying to reassure him that you’re less disappointed than you really feel.

“You know. Something romantic. A proper bed, rose petals, maybe a few candles…”

“I don’t need all that,” you try to tell him.

“I think I do,” he admits. And that’s enough to pull you back, to remind you that you need to be patient and grateful that he values you so much as to want to do this whole thing properly. That his affection is something to be cherished, not taken for granted.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I didn’t mean to be pushy.”

“Please don’t apologize.” He hesitates to untangle himself from you, even though he knows he needs to. “I want this just as bad. I just… I need it to be right.”

“As long as I have you, it’ll be right,” you reassure. “I hope you know that.”

He presses his lips to yours again, a slow and passionate kiss that he hopes communicates every bit of adoration he feels for you in this moment.

“It’ll be perfect. I swear,” he vows. You’ve never believed anything more whole-heartedly than you do this promise.

~~~

“Wait, you’re telling me that you literally had her under you and you stopped?” Robin’s halfway through chewing a mouthful of popcorn and the absolute carnage inside her agape mouth makes Steve give her a light shove.

“It’s not polite to talk with your mouth full, y’know.”

“It’s not polite to blue-ball either!” She shoots back in utter disbelief.

“How do you think I felt? I was this close,” he holds his thumb and index finger barely millimeters apart, “to sealing the deal.”

She just shakes her head. “You, Steve Harrington, are a genuine, bonafide idiot.”

She’s not telling him anything he doesn’t know. It’s been three days since the aborted fling in the backseat of his car, and he’s barely thought of anything else. Especially since you’ve been away from home both of the past nights when he’s called. He’s starting to worry you’ve gotten the wrong impression, that he’s not interested or that he’s toying with you. It’s the exact opposite. He wants nothing more than to know you in the most intimate way he can know you. But he needs it to be flawless. He needs it to be well thought-out and precisely planned, the most romantic event in the history of copulation. He won’t settle for anything less, not with you. You deserve perfection, and he won’t give you anything less.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he tries to explain. “I want to more than anything. But if you’re gonna go to town on a goddess, you need to do some worshiping, y’know? I don’t feel like I’ve done enough.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you hear this admission. You weren’t sure what to expect–worried that maybe visiting him at work was an overstep–but hearing him call you a goddess certainly wasn’t on your radar.

“You’ve done more than enough, Steve.”

The sound of your voice makes Steve jump and whirl around, oblivious to Robin’s sly smirk and mumbled excuse of needing to attend to something in the back room.

“H-hey!” He squeaks, then clears his throat in an attempt to get his tone back to its normal octave. “What… what’re you doing here?”

“Oh, just came to pick up a tape,” you tease. “But mostly I came to see you.”

“Me?” He takes a moment to ground himself, loosening his too-tight grip on the counter. “I mean… I tried to call you last night. And the night before?”

Your brow furrows. “Really? I didn’t get your message.”

Because he didn’t leave one. He clears his throat and says, “I just figured you were busy.”

“Oh, well, I volunteer at the animal shelter on Wednesdays, and last night was my friend’s 21st birthday. I’m sorry I missed you, though.”

He can tell that you’re really remorseful, and it makes his heart squeeze in his chest a little bit. He plays it off with a dismissive wave of his hand. “No, it’s fine, it’s… are you free tonight?”

You giggle at the abrupt redirect, but he’s played directly into your hand.

“Yeah, actually. I was hoping maybe you could help me pick out something for us to watch tonight? If you’re free too, that is.”

His dark eyes blink slowly, wondering if you’re aware of the implication behind your completely innocent words. You. Him. A movie. Alone. It’s enough to make his head spin.

“I’ve never been freer.”

Conveniently, you’ve come in close enough to the end of his shift that by the time you’re done combing through Family Video’s vast selection for the perfect film to use as background noise, Steve’s ready to clock out. And since you walked over after finishing your own shift at the local dollar store up the street, it works out perfectly that he can give you a ride straight to his place.

You only glance in the backseat once, but it’s enough to get your mind churning. Remembering the feeling of him, of what could’ve been. Anticipating what will be.

“Parents home?” You ask as he pulls into his driveway and parks, trying to sound casual and utterly failing.

“Nope,” he answers easily. “Took a detour to Cabo on their way home from Hawaii.”

“Sounds glamorous. You opted out?”

“I’d rather be here in Hawkins with you than on a beach alone anyday.”

He must know the effect his words have on you. Surely he can hear the way your heart picks up pace as he looks at you with those dark, affectionate eyes.

“So… this is home.” He waves a hand around the entrance hall like it’s a shabby nightmare, not the grandest house you’ve ever been in.

“I’m starting to understand why they used to call you King Steve.”

He’s almost embarrassed at the mention of that old high school nickname. “Trust me, this isn’t why.”

“Well, a palace does befit you,” you tell him with a smirk.

“Stop, you’re gonna make me blush.” The wink he shoots you makes your gut erupt with butterflies, a sensation that would normally make you a little uncomfortable. With Steve, you’d take the butterflies all day long.

He gives you a cursory and oversimplified tour of the ground floor before leading you upstairs, and suddenly he’s sheepish. It’s been a few moons since he shared his room with a girl, so the nerves are justified. But that’s too simple an explanation. You’re not a girl. You’re his dream, his muse, his–to re-quote himself–goddess. No one he’s ever cared about more has stood where you’re standing, and it terrifies him.

He hides it well, though, busying himself with making a comfortable nest for you in his bed before setting up the television set on the dresser against the far wall. If ever there was a time to regain his confidence, it’s now. He curses whatever god there is that he feels like a fumbling virgin in this moment when nothing is even happening, when just the anticipation is enough to make his hands tremble.

There’s no more stalling once you’re comfortable and the tape is set to play. His heart pounds to the steady and frantic rhythm of one of those heavy rock songs Dustin listens to now as he sits next to you, hands itching to take a hold of you but also eager not to move too fast.

Almost as if you can sense his hesitation, you reach over and take his hand. “Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me.”

And so he does, and the second his lips slot to yours all the worry and anxiety is gone. He’s Steve Harrington, and he knows what he’s doing. You’re you, and he’s wanted this for so long. After years of being lost, he deserves to finally find the love he’s been looking for. He’s never been so sure of anything as he is, in this moment of initial clarity, that he’s in love with you.

He can’t say it, not yet. He’s sure it’s too soon, and the last thing he wants is to scare you off. But he’s determined to prove it to you, and the only way besides words is action.

He can handle action.

There’s no more restraint or hesitation behind his touch. This is it, this is what you’ve both been waiting for. There’s no way in hell he’s not going to deliver now. He’s desperate for you, and it shows in the heavy way his hands drag along your curves whilst committing you to memory; the way his tongue languidly swipes across your bottom lip; the way he shifts effortlessly to hover over you even while deepening the kiss.

He’s overwhelming every single sense of yours in such a sudden fashion, and you wouldn’t want it any other way. Especially not when his hips meet yours in a deliciously slow grind and you finally get your first little taste of what’s to come.

He keens at the little breathless whimpers that leave your mouth, reading every single signal you provide him with and accommodating each. Moaning? He continues what he’s doing, intensifying if deemed necessary. Whining? He adds something, because he knows it’s hard to use your words when you’re wanting so badly. Squirming? He pays attention to the direction of your movement and pulls away or presses closer depending on necessity. It’s down to science for him; he only really cared about extracurriculars in school anyway, and this was certainly his favorite.

But then he comes to his senses–while he doesn’t pull away completely, he needs to clear his mind and he does so by letting up a bit, allowing the kiss to become languid and the heat to extinguish a bit. It only makes you whine more, and Steve curses his damned formula. You shouldn’t be part of an equation. You’re everything he’s ever wanted, and every aspect of your relationship so far has been a new experience for him. He needs this particular activity to be different too. No formulas or calculations. Just you and him and whatever happens naturally.

Clearly you can hear the cogs in his mind turning. You pull away with a concerned look on your face and ask, “what’s on your mind?”

Now’s not the time to hide anything from you, he reasons with himself. He wants to be authentic with you, and part of that means telling the truth, even if it’s not something particularly comfortable.

“I’m… falling into a routine. And I don’t want to,” he admits. He sighs and leans back, one hand dragging through his shaggy and disheveled hair, sure that he’s going to ruin the mood if he carries on like this. But he refuses to back away from the truth now. “This… it’s always been like…. Like a series of checkpoints. Boxes to check, y’know? Kiss you, take your clothes off, make you come, fuck you, say goodnight. And I don’t want… I can’t let it be like that with you. I need this to be… real. Not just some list to cross shit off of. I don’t–”

Steve takes a long, shaky breath before he can ramble on anymore. Never has someone so thoroughly gotten under his skin. He’s never felt so insecure, so unsure. It’s terrifying. The most terrifying part of it all, though, is that he likes it. He loves the feeling of the unfamiliarity, of doing this right. In a way, it’s almost like he’s doing all of this for the first time all over again. You’re his first date, first kiss, first time. All because he’s changed so drastically, because he’s not even remotely the same person he was just a year or two ago.

Your hands are so gentle as you cup his face, tenderly forcing his eyes to meet yours.

“Steve… we don’t have to do this, not if you’re not ready. I want to be with you, not just for this, but for everything. Everything that comes with you… that’s what I want. There’s no pressure. I would wait a hundred years for you to be ready so long as I could still have you.”

Steve’s breath shakes a little as he comprehends the gravity of your words. There’s nothing he can say that can properly convey the gratitude he holds for your words, so he says nothing at all.

In his silence, you continue. “You’re more than a body, you know that, right? You’re funny, and kind, and smart. Yes, smart, don’t look at me like that. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted to be close to. I just… I want to spend time with you. I want to watch stupid movies and eat diner food until we get sick and laugh at your stupid jokes… and maybe make love with you, sure, but that’s pretty low on the list as long as I just get to be with you.”

He doesn’t notice the tears until it’s too late–by the time you’re wiping them from the apples of his cheeks it’s far too late to take them back or hide them. With anyone else, he would be angry; at himself, for allowing himself to be so vulnerable. For allowing himself to be so emotional. With you, though… with you, his emotions make him feel strong.

For the first time since you walked into his life, he’s not scared of losing you.

“I love you,” he tells you. His voice is firm, as fierce as the kiss he presses to your mouth, as powerful as the waves of emotion vibrating through his very soul. “I love you so much.”

He barely gives you a chance to reply, as keen as he is on physically proving his love to you through myriad passionate kisses that leave you breathless. But when you finally get the chance to use your voice after a barrage of kisses that start to trail down your neck, you whisper, “I love you too.”

Four words, and they’re all he needs to quell every worry or fear he’s had over doing this relationship properly with you. Why should he have to worry, after all, when he’s already succeeded?

“I love you,” he whispers as he trails down your neck and to your chest, leaving tender love bites on the tops of your breasts once he’s properly liberated you from your shirt.

“I love you,” he mumbles through sucking a mark a few inches north of your navel.

“I love you,” he murmurs when his lips meet your waistband. His fingers make quick work of your pants as he scatters kisses over your stomach, unable to part his mouth from your skin for even a moment.

“I love you,” he affirms as his mouth meets your hot and waiting core.

There’s no more checklist. Because this isn’t simply sex, as it always has been for him in the past. This is love-making: the kind of sappy shit they talk about in all those Hallmark movies that he rolls his eyes at the sight of. It’s like losing his virginity all over again.

He understands the old adage of “the other half” now. You’ve ripped him to shreds and sewed him back together with strands of yourself. The end result is better than the original ever could’ve even dreamed to be. He’s sure he couldn’t possibly live without you now, that losing you would be like ripping out fresh and unhealed stitches.

You’re not sure how long he camps out between your trembling thighs, but it’s long enough for you to lose count of the number of times he pulls you apart–first with his languid tongue; then his long, curved fingers; then a combination of the two. It’s like he loses himself completely in your pleasure, not a single thought in his head except what he can do to bring you to the edge again, and again, and again.

You’re trembling with oversensitivity by the time his own needs overtakes his desperation to unravel you. So out of it that you feel drunk, like Steve’s laced you with absolute bliss so pure you can barely stand it.

You’re hardly present enough to appreciate the adonis before you when he finally undoes his own jeans, and that’s a damned shame because he’s so damned pretty. Long and thick, flushed at the girthy tip from his hitherto unacknowledged arousal. His lean thighs are pure muscle, and the dark thatch of hair that trails south from his navel makes your mouth water. He’s everything you dreamed he’d be and so much more.

“Steve…” You don’t know what else you can possibly say. All you can do is vainly hope that one whine of his name can convey all of the heat, frustration, tension, and above all longing, swirling through your head in the moment.

He breaks from his lustful reverie for a moment to smile as he leans in for another heated kiss; you think it’s safe to say you’ve gotten your point across.

He slows from his mania for a few moments, lips tender as they explore against yours once more. These kisses are languid, slow, yet no less heated. Even now, he’s trying to prove his love to you. As if you could somehow not believe him after everything that’s happened, every small moment you’ve spent with him witnessing how hard he’s trying for you.

Somewhere in between kisses he manages to wrestle a condom out of his nightstand, miraculously without ever breaking from your lips.

Now is where you cut in, finally fading out of your over-pleasured fugue and back to reality. You take the little foil packet from his hands and tear it open, eager for this small chance to finally get a hand or two on him.

He lets out the most gorgeous noise you’ve ever heard as you roll the rubber down his length; a deep, earthy, diaphragmatic moan just from the simple touch of your hand. You want to touch him even more, to wrest out more of those sounds from him; to see what other undiscovered responses you can pull from him as you pleasure him. But you know that now, he needs to set the pace. He believes he has something to prove, and you’re more than happy to let him prove it. There will be plenty of other opportunities to have him completely at your mercy, anyway.

There’s no way to describe the feeling as he slides into you. It’s more than bliss, more than euphoria, more than earth-shattering toe-curling mind-altering pleasure. It’s nothing more than feeling whole. Of never knowing you were missing a part of yourself until it’s suddenly returned to you. Of never knowing what home felt like until this exact moment.

Maybe it’s overdramatic. Maybe it’s outlandish and outrageous and a million other adjectives to feel something so overpowering and overwhelming from such a seemingly simple physical act. But in this moment, you know you’ve never felt anything as right as being connected to Steve in this way.

His lips hardly leave yours while he rolls his hips against you, easily finding the perfect angle to make your breath hitch and your hands scrabble for purpose.

It admittedly doesn’t last long, but it doesn’t have to. Once you start to tighten and pulse around him, he’s a goner–deep purposeful thrusts turning to hard, arrhythmic plunges in desperate search of release.

You’re still shaking from your high when he slowly pulls out of you. He keeps you close, arms linked around your waist and dragging you to lay on his chest as he flops back against the pillows.

You’re not sure how long you lay like that, with Steve whispering sweet nothings into your hair and pressing absentminded kisses to your face. All you can really focus on is one all-consuming, life-changing fact.

“I love you, Steve Harrington.”

“I love you too,” he whispers back. He kisses you again, just a simple peck on your lips, and you know that he’s telling the truth. It’s an eternal truth: one that can’t be changed or altered in any way. Steve Harrington loves you with every fibre of his being, and he will for the rest of his life–even if you’re both blissfully unaware of it for now.

THE END

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bsxcrxts · 6 months

Text

mess

Luke Skywalker x fem!reader

(note: written with fem!reader in mind, but no gendered language towards reader. reader is afab with breasts)

MINORS DNI. AGE IN BIO TO INTERACT WITH MY WORKS. I WILL BLOCK YOU IF NOT.

word count: 5k shameless, shameless words. teehee

Contains: This is a sex pollen fic!!!! Very mild dubious consent due to those circumstances, but reader and Luke check in with each other multiple times. Reader calls themself a slut briefly but no degradation, the nickname "bunny" and "baby", cunnilingus, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don't do this unless you want a baby lol), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, Luke is so babygirl

A/N: This takes place between ANH and ESB and may be the closest I've ever written reader's personality to my own irl; reader is pessimistic and self-conscious at times though it does not come up during the sex in this fic, just before and after. Not to worry, happy ending ;)

The Rebellion's cover on Yavin IV was completely blown, of course. You can't get away with obliterating the Empire's most impressive weapon of mass destruction and then trying to just stick around to find out what happens– it would be exceptionally bad strategy. The Rebellion has mere weeks to relocate.

You're just not sure why you raised your hand to be placed on the mission to scout the next uninviting and dangerous planet to build a base on.

Actually, you admit to yourself, that's a lie.

You are sure why you thought it was a good idea, in fact, you're very sure, and the reason is a blonde man around your age with the prettiest blue eyes you've ever seen. You've had a crush on him since the moment you saw him, and he had also volunteered for the mission.

The reason is Luke Skywalker.

You jump at the chance, thinking that being around him in a small group would be the easiest way to get to know him. To make him really notice you, not just wave in the hallway as he walks by. Except, coincidentally of course, the Rebellion could only afford to spare two people for the mission, and they stopped taking names once they wrote yours down.

So now, a mere week later, you're alone, on a transport, with Luke Skywalker.

And things have never felt so awkward in your whole life.

In fact, you're seriously rethinking the whole Rebellion thing in general; yes, the cause is deeply important to you, but how important is your dignity in comparison? Would disappearing into the woods back on your home planet forever be letting the Empire win?

It's just that in the three days and two planetary excursions you've spent together, you've fumbled over every interaction you've had with Luke, and it's killing you. You've spoken to him before, but only in short, passing conversations, the kind of thing that's easy to run from. But now? There's no where to run. You've bumped into him at least four times that you can count on the tiny transport and rushed out apologies every time, tripped over a vine on the first planet, slipped on ice on the second. Both times he caught you before you hit the ground. You could have died from the embarrassment, melted into the floor and slipped away.

Your small talk is weak, but at least you can always talk about the weather, since it's actually topical to the mission. You don't know what else to say, desperately trying to come off as normal around him, not like some over-enthused fan who just wants to get with him because he's the Hero of Yavin IV. Luke is either oblivious, or pretends not to notice, and keeps trying to make conversation anyway.

"I don't like Hoth for it. Too cold," he says, sitting down in his seat as the two of you rocket through hyperspace, heading to the next planet. "Actually, it's all the snow. How do you build anything in all that?"

What's worse about the situation is that the mission has been fruitless. The base has to be built on a planet that is next-to inhospitable, with no current population to disrupt. It's a short list of horrible places, but you have to make one of them work.

"Well," you hesitate, "Deyer is toxic, we couldn't even breathe the atmosphere there. Plus we saw Imps orbiting Anout, which we should probably tell someone about."

"Already sent Leia a comm on the secure channel."

You're quiet for a half second. Luke talks fast, and you have to answer quickly to keep up with him, but you aren't used to hearing General Organa's first name from other recruits. Of course he's close with her. Are you trying to compete with a princess? You have to wonder.

Luke sighs and leans back in his chair. "Just like places where it's hot, that's all."

"Cause you fit right in," you mutter, completely accidentally, and hearing yourself, your eyes widen. "Being from Tatooine, you're used to it," you rush.

Hardly your best save, but Luke smiles at you, bemused. You swear sometimes he can see right through your facade.

"You know, I couldn't wait to get off that planet," he says. "There was never any adventure there, not anymore."

"Really?" you ask. "None?"

"I guess I could have stuck around to bullseye womprats in my T-16 but I'd been doing that since I was a kid."

"Oh," you note. Honestly, you don't know if you're sure of what a womprat even is, though you can guess. "So, is this mission another adventure, then?" you ask.

"It can be," Luke says. "I have a feeling it's an important one."

You nod, not sure if you have the right to ask what he means by a feeling. That's the other thing about Luke, he has this power most people don't, this Force that everyone started whispering about after he arrived on base with certain things no one had seen in a long time; a lightsaber, luck, a certain type of faith.

As you're overthinking it, the transport shudders out of hyperspace, blue lines becoming dots of light as you drift into the orbit of the next world on your list to investigate. The two of you part ways as he takes over piloting while you go to prep the packs to bring with you on the excursion.

When Luke lands the small ship on the planet's surface, you hope that this is the perfect location, but something just feels... off.

These places that you and Luke are investigating are all supposed to be disagreeable by design. Something– be it the weather, the atmosphere, the creature life– is supposed to keep most people away, including and especially the Empire. Everyone should be unsuspecting that the Rebellion would ever chose such a location for their base.

The problem is that the ecosystem here is shockingly nice. Welcoming, even. You've landed in a little clearing, but just a few yards away the landscape morphs into nothing but fields and fields, valleys and meadows as far as the eye can see, and in every field grows delicate little wildflowers; with purple petals barely the size of the tip of your finger. They seem to grow on the wild grasses, some of them reaching as tall as your hips.

"We got the right coordinates, right?" you venture.

"Yeah! I don't understand," Luke answers. "This isn't unpleasant at all."

Nerthusa, if you remember the name of the planet correctly, didn't list any conditions in the records, just that there were no sentient inhabitants. Your atmospheric indicator is reading that it's safe, so the two of you take your masks off. There's an overtly sweet smell in the air that hits you right away when you do, obviously because of the flowers.

"There's gotta be some massive creature that lives here that's plotting how to kill and eat us right now. I mean, why else..." you trail off, still looking around for a threat or an incoming storm, but there's nothing.

Luke has done his own surveilling and apparently also come up with nothing in the immediate vicinity.

"We should explore some," he says, "y'know, before we definitely pick this spot instead of Hoth for the base," he jokes, smiling at you again.

For all the grief you gave him earlier, you're not too keen on the idea of living on Hoth either, and so far, Nerthusa is beautiful. Plus, you'd feel pretty bad if you signed off on it and then it turned out there were wild herds of vicious carnivorous beasts roaming around or something. A thorough investigation is only fair, you think, so the two of you grab your packs and set off.

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

For a while, everything was fine, but about a half an hour into your trek, things are decidedly not fine in a very unique way, but you would probably rather literally die than mention anything about it to Luke. For one, he was so hopeful about this place, and secondly... well. Let's just say your symptoms were unusual.

It started off with what felt like hot flashes. One moment you'd be perfectly fine in the afternoon breeze, and the next, your cheeks would be burning and you'd have the strong urge to yank your shirt off. In the beginning, it would come in waves, and pass over you, leading you to think you'd just been pushing yourself too hard through the field or something, but how could that be true? The landscape was hardly difficult to maneuver, and your pace steady but not too quick.

The flashes were slowly replaced by waves of a different type of heat, one that was much more difficult to rationalize. Shit, you know you're attracted to Luke, but you've never, ever felt like this, not in situations outside of your bedroom. And not even then.

You can't look at him for too long or you think you might lose control. He's thankfully trailing behind you now by just a little bit, your only reprieve that he can't see your face like this. When you do glance back at him, he's looking at the ground, but his cheeks are flushed just beautifully, his hair catching the light from the late afternoon sun. His toned biceps have a slight sheen of sweat and, and, and–

You rip your gaze away. You want him. No, you NEED him.

No, you're being insane, you mentally scold yourself, but it's getting more and more difficult to rationalize your way out of it. There's a perpetual feeling low inside you now, and you can feel yourself actually dripping into your underwear.

You're not sure how much more you can take, and when you pick up on the sound of Luke breathing heavily behind you, it doesn't make it any better. Is he feeling this too?

Your resolve to say something breaks when you find yourself beginning to imagine what would happen if you stopped walking and let him run into you, pushed your ass against his cock, let him bend you over and fuck you into the goddamn ground, right here, right now. You're thinking about having something, anything inside your cunt, but especially his cock. You have to snap out of it.

"Let's stop for a second," you rush out, not giving Luke a chance to protest. You start walking away from him, hoping to put some distance between the two of you as if that will cure your ailment, so you lean on a large rock a few feet off the side of the trail you'd been walking.

The atmosphere is sickly saccharine now, stifling your breathing. There's a low mist or something hanging in the air and everything feels strangely heavy. You close your eyes for what you thought was just a second, trying to figure out how to bring up that this planet is obviously poisoning you despite what the indicators read earlier, but when you open them again, Luke is gone.

For a second, you panic; your blood runs cold, and your system is too overwhelmed with the brief shock and fear that you can almost fight off the symptoms the planet is subjecting you to. You scan the fields rapidly, your mind searching. It certainly would be worse to lose Luke Skywalker on a random planet in the Outer Rim than nearly any other bad luck that could befall you, and it would mean you'd be alone here. Under any normal circumstance the thought would certainly unsettle you, but rational thought is quickly slipping from your mind's grasp, and you feel different. Maybe even abandoned.

You wheel around and finally see him standing in the valley, several yards away, with his back to you. Your relief is palpable; you feel your shoulders drop and your heart rate settle.

And then the other feelings are back, ten times stronger.

"Luke!" you can't help but call out as you practically double over, and then, fighting to straighten your posture, take a few steps his direction.

Luke turns around and puts his hands out like he's trying to corral a frightened bantha, and that's when you know he's feeling it too. The thought of Luke being as equally aroused as you are in this moment makes your knees buckle.

"Don't, um... don't come any closer, something's wrong," he says.

"I know. We have to get out of here," you shout, continuing to move towards him. "I think I'm... I think I'm getting sick," you insist. It's not a lie, necessarily. It's not the truth either.

"Yeah," Luke says, his voice trembling. "Yeah, me too."

At least both of you are determined to avoid what's really happening.

"It's the flowers," you say, stopping a foot or two away from him. "We're allergic to the pollen, or... or, something. We should take the reaction treatment in the medpacks and leave."

Luke is not listening to you. It's evident by the way he's avoiding your gaze entirely. His eyes wander briefly down your neck to your chest before he appears to zone out completely, gaze falling to the ground.

"Luke..." you trail off. No response. "Luke?" you insist. He doesn't react until you touch his wrist– it's instinctual, and a huge mistake.

"Mm?" he moans lightly as he seems to snap out of the trance he was in, but when he looks up at you, his face is flushed, his pupils blown wide. You probably look similarly messy, you imagine, as the touch of his skin to yours electrifies you. It dulls the ache, soothes the relentless arousal even just a tiny amount. Stars, it's bad. It's worse, because you could become addicted to the way his skin feels against yours right now.

You pull back your hand like you'd been scalded. You want him like you've never wanted anyone. You don't dare to look at his body any further down than his chest, knowing if your own state is any indication, that he's hard and aching in his pants, and you don't know how you'll hold yourself back if you see him like that.

"Sorry," you whisper. He doesn't say anything, just licks his lips subtly and nods.

"Luke," you protest, "we have to get to the ship, and soon. If this is... I don't know what it is," you trail off. Half-truths. You've obviously both been exposed to an extremely powerful aphrodisiac via the flower pollen, you and Luke know there's no denying that. But the extent of its symptoms, and how bad it will get if you stay, there's no way to know.

It pains you, staying focused like this. Your heart and cunt are screaming at you to just have sex with him, to just give in to the urge to use one other to get off. What's left of your logical reasoning persists in one singular thought; get away from the flowers.

"Okay," he says. "Okay, let's go back."

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

The walk to the transport is as silent as it is excruciating. You and Luke have an unspoken agreement to stay several feet away from each other, so he trails behind you once again. There's nothing to talk about, anyway.

The seam of your pants rubs against your clit with every step. You almost feel thankful for it, because if not for the merciful contact, you're sure you would have shoved a hand down your pants already. You can feel that there's a wet patch on the crotch of your trousers and you have never felt more humiliated, or more needy. Every few minutes, you sense Luke exhale a soft, barely audible moan behind you.

Don't look. Keep walking, you think. All there is to do is keep walking.

More lies, your mind supplies, like a screwed up dialogue with yourself. You could fuck him instead.

When you reach the transport, you dash inside like you're possessed. As soon as you're both inside, you seal the doors, hoping once you're out of the environment, things might change. You open one of the ship cabinets and rummage through the med supplies until you find the reaction treatment and quickly take the pill that's supposed to regulate your internal systems.

You turn to pass a pill to Luke, who's slumped against the wall, a hand conspicuously placed over the front of his trousers. You don't say anything, just watch as he also takes the treatment, then look away, seating yourself in the passenger side of the ship, crossing your legs, not knowing what else to do.

It's supposed to be instant, but nothing is happening. You wait a few minutes, hoping. Not a goddamn thing feels better.

"If you expect me to– I can't– I can't fly like this," Luke sounds almost irritated for a moment, which you suppose is fair, but you refuse to turn around to look at him. Your nails dig into the armrests next to you. If things hadn't been so damn awkward before, maybe there would have been some kind of resolution to this that involved you implying getting rid of the effects naturally instead of torturing yourself like this.

Distracted again at the idea, you imagine getting up and kissing Luke, pressing your body against him the way it craved. You imagined him pinning you to the wall, ripping your ruined pants and shoving his cock into you at a brutal pace, giving you everything you wanted, craved, needed right now.

Stars, you were on the edge of orgasm just thinking about it, clenching and relaxing your thighs rhythmically, hips doing tiny, almost imperceptible circles on your seat.

But you caught yourself before you could finish; you couldn't see your way out of it. You barely knew Luke, no matter how much you were into him, so you couldn't muster the strength to ask him if he'd consider it– if he'd consider you. You might die from this before you gave in, you thought. Maybe literally. You reluctantly uncross your legs, denying yourself release, and shifted in your chair.

"Fuck," Luke whines, suddenly across from you in the pilot's seat. "Don't do that."

"Do what?" you breathe. His close proximity is taunting you, and when you look over at him, his head is thrown back against the seat. He's absentmindedly touching himself, rutting his still-clothed cock against his hand as his hips jerk every so often, like it's not even on purpose but on pure instinct.

Animalistic.

"When you," Luke squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, "when you sit like that, I can, uhm–"

It's your turn to be a bit snappy with him. You're more than uncomfortable and there's no getting around it now. Mere moments earlier, you still thought you could ignore the problem and it would go away, but now Luke is grabbing at his cock over his pants right in front of you. Fuck it.

"Spit it out, Skywalker," you say, giving in and letting your own hand snake down your torso to cup your heat, pressing your wet trousers and panties against your pussy.

"Can smell how turned on you are when you open your legs," he rushes out.

"Oh," you breathe, barely above a whisper. It makes sense. Enclosed spaces. No longer the open field of flowers to mask the scent of your arousal or of his sweat.

When you think of it, your hips grind harder against your hand and the chair, and you let out a moan, frustrated, self-conscious, but unable to hold back any longer.

At this, Luke suddenly keens. His hips give one, two, three little jerks, and he bites his lip in an effort to stifle his own noises, his whole body tensing, blue eyes rolling back as he very obviously came in his pants, a wet spot forming on his trousers.

"Did you–" you go to inquire, but think better of it. It's obvious what just happened. "Did it help?" you ask instead. Your face is burning with embarrassment and intense arousal. The look on Luke's face when he cums is not something you ever intend to forget.

"No," Luke sighs, "no, I'm still– it's still– I think we can't get rid of it on our own. It... it's worse than before."

When you don't say anything, he keeps talking.

"Really want you," Luke says softly, and then he's sliding off his seat, moving to kneel right in front of you. His hands come to rest on your thighs, gently spreading your legs further open. Your eyes have to be as wide as saucers when he kisses your inner knee and inhales deeply before pulling away.

"Please? It's hurting you, too, isn't it?" he asks, his gorgeous blue eyes looking up at you, begging you silently.

In more ways than one, you think. You're being haunted by all the complications of this, no matter how badly you want him. You could fall in love with him, but Luke doesn't owe you anything; you're not dating, you've never even had a conversation longer than ten minutes before this week.

He doesn't even owe you this, and yet he's offering to give it to you.

"Yes," you breathe shakily, "I want you too."

No sooner are the words out of your mouth than Luke is pulling on the belt loops of your pants. "Take them off," he whines, and you rush, shoving your trousers off in haste. It feels good to give in to the effects of the pollen, feels right. You mind gets clouded, thinking only of Luke's skin on yours.

The flowers must be similarly affecting Luke, because before you can divest yourself of your panties, Luke's shoving his face against your clothed pussy, tonguing you lewdly over your already ruined undergarments. The feeling is amplified by whatever the two of you inhaled earlier, and you throw your head back, your hips leaving the chair as you squirm, at the mercy of the mess of a man on his knees in front of you.

"You're soaked," Luke moans against your cunt. Your mind is empty, filled with the base desire to feel his mouth against your bare cunt, and you shove your panties off your legs hurriedly. Luke helps, yanking them down.

"Oh," he whines, "These are so pretty." He's holding your wet undergarment up and staring like he's won a prize, momentarily distracted by the lace trim and the smell of you on them.

"We ruined them," he laments. "I'll get you new ones, bunny."

Luke doesn't give you time to respond, or to react to the new nickname he's given you, before he's practically pushing his face against your cunt. He doesn't hesitate; there's no teasing, no build-up, just the feeling of his tongue firm against you, starved in a way you've never felt before.

You can't help but writhe on his tongue. At the start, you try to avoid fisting your hands in his pretty blonde hair, but you can only hold yourself back for mere moments before you're tugging at him, pushing his face into your cunt and grinding your hips across his mouth.

And Luke likes it, moans into your cunt below you, panting. His big blue eyes find yours when you tug particularly hard and you swear you see his eyelashes flutter. He's doing his best to get as close as humanly possible to you, too, grabbing your thighs and pulling you forward onto his mouth, the wet sound of your cunt urging him on. He licks and sucks on your clit, and you sob.

It's heady. It's disgusting. It's going to make you cum. And somehow, he knows.

"Yeah?" he barely pulls away to answer you, "You like that?"

"Luke," you cry, pushed over the edge, grinding against his face as you let the aftershocks overtake your body, expecting your body to relax as usual into the bliss of the afterglow.

Except, the desire doesn't fade. The symptoms don't go away. If anything, they've intensified, and you moan frustratedly. The orgasm Luke has given you on any other day would have sated you completely, but not now.

Luke looks wrecked on his knees before you, pupils blown so wide that his eyes look dark. His mouth shines with your release, his cheeks a bright red.

You give into your urges.

Sliding off the chair, you situate yourself so you're also on your knees on the floor of the ship with him. You lean over, crawling into his lap, and claim his mouth, kissing him the way you've only ever dreamed you might one day. It's the first time you've kissed, you realize somewhat embarrassingly, mind reeling that he's had his lips on your pussy before your mouth.

"That was so good. You're so good," you compliment him between kisses, and he lights up at the praise, smiling against your mouth, hips grinding against yours, and you can feel how hard he is.

"D'you feel better?" Luke hesitates, almost like he's too nervous to ask.

You shake your head. "No...I-I need more."

"Me too," he answers.

"Let me help you?" you ask, trailing a hand over his cock, hard and thick in his pants. He shudders and bucks his hips, nodding.

You're quick to pull him from the confines of his pants, underwear just as soaked as yours was from his earlier orgasm. You can't even think to tease him about it though, because his cock is gorgeous. Long and pretty, flushed so much it must be painful– you know it is, just as much as your cunt aches to have him inside you.

You meant to take him as quickly as you could, to satiate the pollen, to cure yourself of the beyond intense desire you feel. You don't mean to toy with him, but you can't help it, you're mesmerized. The way his cock is leaking precum makes you stop and just watch, letting him fuck your hand, twisting your wrist a bit at the tip to make him moan and keen and cry out and– and–

He's cumming again, all over his open pants, all over his shirt, all over your hand. You've never seen anything like it. Your cunt twitches and flutters around nothing as you watch him finish.

His little noises, his "ah, haah, mh!" sounds almost send you over the edge.

"Oh, baby. There’s so much,” you gasp, eyes wide at the way he's literally dripping with his own spend. His cock refuses to soften, twitching in your hand even as you pause your ministrations– the pollen has completely eradicated his refractory period.

"I needa be inside you right now, please," Luke begs.

By now the feeling inside of you is debilitating too, impossible to ignore. You rip your own shirt off, pawing at Luke's clothing that's stained with his cum and help him take everything off before you're quickly straddling him, pinning him to the floor.

Selfishly, you wish you had time to marvel at his body, to slowly worship him, to mark his abdomen with love bites and kisses instead of jumping to this point, but the need for him is overwhelming. You sink down onto his cock, and you feel like the air has been punched out of your lungs.

"F-fuck!" Luke exclaims as he feels the tight heat of your pussy clench around him for the first time, overwhelmed. You would love to take your time with this one day, too, you realize as you look down at him. He's cute beneath you, staring up at you adoringly, eyes darting from where his cock is buried inside of you, to your tits, to your face. Maybe he'd react well to being teased, but it isn't the time.

And the way he's desperately thrusting his hips up into you now isn't so bad, either. His hands grip your hips, fucking you on his dick as you grind down on him, the two of you working in tandem.

You don't know if it's because it's Luke, or if it's because of the pollen, or a little bit of both, but you feel amazing right now; there's a comfortable warmth spreading throughout your body, and everywhere Luke touches you feels addicting. The pace is fast and rough and perfect.

You may never get this again, you realize. You've got to make the most of it.

"So pretty," you tell him. "Look so good like this."

Luke moans underneath you, his breathing shallow and stuttered, hips never ceasing to roll perfectly against you. You notice the way his gaze continues to linger on your breasts and can't help yourself.

"Touch me," you whimper, pulling his hands from their place on your hips to your tits. "You like them, don't you? Seen the way you look at them."

Luke practically worships your breasts, running his hands along your body.

"You're perfect," he whines. "A-all of you. Feel like a dream around my– uhm, uh! L-like you're meant for me."

The idea does you in. "Oh, oh god," you cry out, clenching on his cock and cumming for the second time in a matter of minutes. It wracks through your body, making you shudder and collapse against Luke, who redoubles his efforts, holding your body against his as his hips continue to fuck against yours, which is all the better for you; you can't believe it, but you still feel that your body needs more.

It's obvious that Luke is losing all concentration, lost in his own pleasure. He chases his own orgasm, rutting into your body like a man possessed, until you feel him erupt inside of you.

“Ccan't stop cumming..." he whines as you feel his cock twitch in your cunt, and now you're dripping in a different way than before, "Again, bunny, I n-need it again.”

"Fuck yes, me too," you cry out.

No sooner have the words left your mouth than Luke is flipping the two of you over, throwing your legs around his waist. You cross your legs behind him, drawing him even closer, and throw your hips back towards him, desiring to take everything he can give you.

He gasps sharply as he sheathes himself inside you again, overstimulated, but still absolutely insatiable.

"Does it hurt?" you ask, your own pussy sure to be sore soon, you knew.

"A l-little but it feels s' good," he whines. "Can't stop. Don't wanna stop."

"Then don't, baby. Fuck me hard," you insist.

He listens, his pace brutal, completely drunk on your pussy. Under any other circumstances you'd want to tease him for it, but you were much the same for him. His moans were relentless, whining and gasping at every thrust as you ran your nails down his back, clinging to him. One of his pretty hands comes to play with your swollen clit, rubbing against you gently but firmly.

"Y'like it?" Luke asks.

"So much," you answer. And then, because you're feeling a bit brave; "Feel like such a slut f'you," you say, sultry, hardly above a whisper.

Luke's eyes go wide for a second before he suddenly kisses you deeply.

"Y'wanna be my slut? Is that it?" he asks against your mouth.

"Yeah," you cry out as his cock perfectly hits that most sensitive spot inside of you.

"That's really hot," he whines. And then, like a silly little afterthought, "We're kinda both sluts right now," he huffs out with a laugh and you can't help but to smile as you kiss him again.

Hardly thinking anymore, you kiss at his neck, yet again wishing in a possessive way that you could mark him more permanently, but this would do for now. Luke shudders against you, crying out.

"Ah, oh, m' c-close. Y'gonna make me cum again for you, bunny."

"Yeah? Good," you say, and grab a handful of his beautiful blonde hair, tilting his head back so he's looking at you, "Want you to cum inside me again."

"Oh, unh, I ccan't hold it," he babbles, "cumming."

Luke sloppily ruts into you as he finishes; there's so much it's practically spilling out of you. He's falling apart, and you are too, following him over the edge mere seconds later.

You can sense that the pollen's effect is waning, but it's not yet gone from either of your systems. Luke's cock, despite having just pumped you full of cum, remains hard inside your pussy. You still ache for another orgasm, not yet content.

"Oh," Luke whines as he shifts inside of you, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

"Baby?" you ask, "are you okay?"

"Uhn," he chokes out, "yyeah, just, oh, ffuck, sensitive s'all."

"Just one more, baby, it's gonna feel so good. One more time," you coax, despite your own aches and pains.

This time, it's much gentler; not romantic, not quite, it still feels like there's an urgency, but the two of you are well-worn out, bodies nearly giving out despite the influence of the pollen; his cock oversensitive and your cunt full to the brim of him.

Luke presses a soft kiss to your forehead and you freeze, just for a split second. It shouldn't change things, but it does. It's not the time to be caught up in the logistics of all this, but your mind is beginning to be released from the brain fog caused by the flowers and suddenly there's nothing else to think about.

He must sense something about the change in your behavior, because he holds you close, and rocks into you softer. It makes you like him even more, makes you so fond of him you could cry. You don't. Instead, you pull his face towards yours and let yourself kiss him tenderly in return, unbearably erotic, tracing his skin as you moan quietly into each other's mouths, a mixture of sensitivity and pleasure mingling.

It's not long before the two of you are close to cumming again, and in a moment of greed and blind arousal, you pull him closer by his hair and bite and suck passionately at his collarbone, knowing it will bloom into a beautiful, dark mark that he'll hopefully remember you by, at least for a while. He liked it earlier, you remember. And he likes it now, you observe. Luke absolutely melts, gasps and moans delightedly, and spills inside of you for a third time, triggering your own orgasm as you clench around him.

Finally, you feel spent. Your cunt flutters with aftershocks, but there's no uncontrollable lust accompanied with it anymore. Luke slips out of you, his cock softening at last. The two of you lay on the floor of the transport for a quiet moment, breathing together, your muscles only now feeling the burn of your exertion.

Reality has set back in.

"I'm sorry," you blurt out when you can finally think of anything to say, grabbing your clothes from the discarded pile nearby and holding them in front of your nude frame, as if there was anything Luke hadn't seen that evening.

Luke, who's been lounging on the duristeel floor quite comfortably, sits up and furrows his brows.

"Sorry? Why?"

You look at him pointedly, and gesture vaguely. "Kind of a mess, isn't it?"

"Oh, we can clean up," Luke says, his mild confusion obvious.

"I... I don't know if I meant literally," you say slowly, "I mean, the whole mission has been a mess. I'm a mess. This is a mess."

"I don't think you're a mess," Luke wagers, his tone careful yet reverent, and it shakes you. "and I don't think this mission has been all that terrible either. 'Cept for Hoth, really, but that's besides the point."

You're silent. The air might as well have been punched out of your lungs.

"If you want to pretend all this didn't happen, that's fine," Luke continues, "but I like you, and– and if you feel the way I feel, maybe you'd think about going on a date sometime? After we find a planet to put this stupid base on?"

Something in you relaxes, despite the fact that your heart is pounding. "Yeah. Yeah, I- I like you too. We can do that," you can't hide your smile.

"This is going to make a real funny story one day," Luke says, smiling back. "I told you. Adventure."

"Yeah, well... I don't know if we should put it in the mission report."

Luke actually laughs then. It's a sound you hope you get to hear for the rest of your life.

"Share the sonic?" he asks, "You weren't kidding about this mess," he says, gesturing to your shared fluids on both of you.

"That tiny shower? We'll be pressed against each other like sardines," you tease. "I'll probably slip and fall and break my ass."

"I'll catch you."

"Well then, how could I say no?" you wink.

"I guess I'll see you in there," he jokes back, starting to walk down the small corridor to the refresher. When you join him, you were right, there's barely space for the two of you to even turn around comfortably, but you wouldn't change a thing.

“One more thing," you say as you step inside, "There's no way in hell we can put the base here.”

Luke sighs, an over-exaggerated thing, and pretends to roll his eyes.

“Hoth it is.”

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

a/n: holy shit guys. I finally did it. two years in my mind. three days to write. here it is. I hope you love it.

#luke skywalker smut #luke skywalker x reader #star wars smut #luke 💛#becca’s bs

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natsglorifiedsimp · 4 months

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Something Changed

A/N: Hello!! New fic for everybody. Angst this time cause I haven't written one in ages!! Hope you enjoy!! This is inspired by the TikTok videos I've been watching that make me bawl my fucking eyes. I forgot the titles but you guys probably know what i mean.

They would say Y/n and Natasha were very close. Everything they do involves banters and evil laughter from just watching a cat falling off a desk. They've even mistaken you guys were dating.

Natasha and Y/n were very close. They sometimes say sentences and thoughts in unison and it is resulted in another laughter that would be heard from a mile away. One wouldn't go without the other.

But all of it changed.

Natasha once shared with you she had a crush. Of course, you begged her to tell you because you were best friends. You begged and even tried to exaggerate your "please" just to make her give in.

And she did.

She told you it was Wanda. Wanda is her current friend in that one class you're not in. And she told you all about the good things about her. And of course, being her friend you teased her about it and supported her with every decision she wanted to make to get Wanda to date her.

After all, you knew she would do the same for you.

But something changed.

"Hey, Nat!" you called upon her. Natasha turned to see who called and with her was Wanda walking hand in hand. You gave her a knowing smirk.

Natasha only rolled her eyes, "What's up?" she asked.

"Do you have plans this afternoon? I was wondering if you could help me with my Maths" you asked showing her your Math notebook.

"Can't" she shrugged. "Have plans with Wanda,"

"Oh, uhm okay" you pondered. "How about tonight?" you asked once again. "I really need to get this done," you pleaded.

"Still can't Y/n, I'm sorry. Maybe Tony can help you" she gave you another knowing smirk to say she and Wanda would be hanging out all night and you gave her a smirk back.

"Yeah, alright! Have fun!" you enunciated the word 'fun' just to tease her. There's always next time you thought.

---

The next day you didn't see Natasha at school and she didn't join you for lunch. So you decided to hang out with Maria's circle of friends for a while just to past the time.

"Hey, your girlfriend not around?" Maria smirked.

You nudged her in the elbow enough just to give her a wince. "First of all, she's not my girlfriend." you booped her nose. "And second of all, I have an eye on someone." you looked her right in the eye. "And lastly, Natasha's dating Wanda so stop spreading those rumors around or you and Natasha will have a fistfight."

"Oh please, I would win anyway" she smugly said.

"Oh, I bet you would," you smirked.

---

It has been one week since you and Natasha talked or even hung out. You have been letting her give her moment with Wanda so they could have the best moments of dating. And as a supportive friend you gave her that.

But right now it was one of those nights again where you can't sleep and anxiety is ridden in your body. You felt nauseous and everything felt so heavy. You didn't want to cry cause you knew you wouldn't stop if you did. So you texted Natasha for a distraction. She always knew what to do.

Y/n

"Hey, Nat?"

"Are you busy?"

Bossy Natalia

"Yeah, I'm at Wanda's"

"What's up?"

Y/n

"Do you mind if we talk just for a minute or two?"

"I could really use a distraction"

Bossy Natalia

"I'm sorry, I'm quite busy Y/n"

"Could it wait tomorrow?"

Y/n

"Uhm, yeah sure"

"Sorry for bothering"

Seen

You were shaking at this point. You were upset and disappointed but it didn't matter. Natasha isn't always available for you, you thought. So instead you cried. You cried your heart out even if your head was aching, your body was tired, and your mind was swirling with thoughts that Natasha doesn't consider you as your friend anymore.

You cried until you fell asleep.

---

The next day, you looked awful. Your eyes were tired and swollen. You didn't have the energy to get up and do your daily routine but you did it anyway. You went to school like nothing happened.

In the first period, Natasha was in her seat already. You perked up in hopes of catching up with her about her girlfriend and your life also. You wanted to know the details, wanted to share to her about an encounter you had with a kid the other day where she randomly flipped you off. Anything really you wanted to share anything that was funny, useless or completely random.

"Hey, Nat!" you waved. She waved back whilst on her phone. "Who you texting?" you asked.

"Wanda."

"You won't believe what happened the other day," you said, smiling at the memory.

"Uh yeah, hang on a second," she said, texting really fast and smiling at her phone.

You frowned, "Nevermind," you awkwardky chuckled. "It's not important."

---

Everything changed since she dated Wanda. It's like you never existed. The things you guys used to do are now what Natasha and Wanda do. You tried reaching out to her, saying hi when you had the opportunity, asking her to hang out with you or have a couple of chats between friends but nothing. It's either she was busy or with Wanda.

It hurt.

But you paid no mind to it. You let her be. Because you're supportive. Even if it was your lowest you didn't bother to ask her or to rant to her about what you're feeling. You stopped sharing your problems, your meaningless rants. Because you knew Wanda was probably doing that already.

You felt like your role as her best friend had stopped. It expired.

And what hurt more was that she promised. You both promised. You promised each other that even when you guys were already dating you wouldn't forget about each other. That it was "Bros before hoes"

So you stopped. You stopped trying. You stopped communicating with her. And just let her be.

Your parents are planning to move to Los Angeles and their planning to get you to transfer to a new school there. New people, new environment. You would've argued with them about it but what's the point? You don't have anything to lose here in New York.

Natasha is happy now and that's all you needed.

---

Bossy Natalia

"Y/n!!"

"Why didn't you tell me you were moving?"

"Hello???"

"Y/n?"

Part 2

#natasha marvel #natasha romonova #black widow #natasha romanov #natasha x you #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natahsa romanoff #natasha alianovna romanova #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff fanfic #black widow x y/n #black widow x female reader #black widow x reader #black widow x you

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studioghibelli · 5 months

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toothache- a joel miller x reader fan fic

note: hello friends :) this is my first fan fic in a loooong time, and i've been quite inspired by all the lovely joel miller fics i have been reading lately. he's a character i find pretty... alluring. (hehehehe.) it's been quite some time since i've written anything about a fictional character so i hope you all enjoy. any tips, criticism, advice, comments, etc. are always welcomed, so feel free to say anything!

summary: after two long years apart, a failed relationship, and a wasted engagement ring, you and joel reunite at a family christmas party. old feelings come up, arguments ensue, and you somehow end up naked beneath him.

rating: 18+, "mature content" as the kids say, mdni!

word count: 5ish thousand

warnings: no use of y/n, female reader, dbf!joel, big phat huge giant slutty age gap (you pretty much decide, no specific ages actually mentioned, but obvs reader has been legal their entire relationship), no outbreak!au, daddy issues, reader has a bit of an outburst, mentions of christianity, reader is hit by their father once, a delicious bit of angst littered about occasionally, reader just got out of a relationship, childfree!joel, daddy issues, guilt, cocky arrogant charming!joel, a few catty arguments, joel and reader have a PAAAAST, SHMUT (PiV, unprotected sex, creampie, f and m receiving oral, daddy kink, dirty talk, pet names, ehhh i think i got it all.)

Beneath the canopy of glimmering Texas stars, a blanket of dark solitude rested upon your covered shoulders. This night, a chilling, nippy Thursday evening half past eight, was much more calming than most. The wind howled sweetly in the distance, accompanied by the fluttering shake of oak leaves, crisp with the oranges of autumn, browning and crisping at the edges like an overbaked pie crust.

Looking in through the dusty, fogged windows of your childhood home, you saw your mother pacing about, hanging up tinsel and elaborate ornaments throughout the living room, muttering what you could only imagine would be prayers as she dealt with the stress of party planning. Your father sat on a leather arm chair, legs crossed atop the mahogany table, flipping through the channels like a drone, his zombie crusted eyes glazed over with the promise of mindless watching.

The annual Christmas party your parents held religiously each year was tomorrow, Friday the 22nd, at exactly 6PM. You had flown in from the city you had managed to settle in almost three days ago, and were met with all the reasons you had left Austin in the first place. An aggressive and brutal father, a critical mother, and a wallpaper stained room full of regret, slathered with the oil of guilt. Your bedsheets reminded you of him, your pillows were fluffed with images of his graying curls, and the sight of your carpet made your knees burn with the thought of all the times he had you kneel before him.

His hands, rough and calloused by long days working on his truck, contracting out his skills, fixing sinks and mowing lawns for the neighbors. Long fingers leaving trail marks and imprints red with the burn of lust, rough lips that had memorized each part of your neck, your shoulders, your thighs, your collarbones. Your cotton sheets still smelled like him. Like waves of vanilla bergamot wafting through an amber forest, like a night full of sweet promises and well-kept secrets.

Deep down you knew you shouldn't be thinking about him. Especially not right after a breakup. A breakup with the man you had planned to marry. Some mornings you could still feel the weight of the now lost diamond atop your ring finger, somedays you could still smell the citrus of his shampoo, feel the smoothness of his kisses. But he wasn't Joel.

Joel.

You knew it was wrong. You knew you shouldn't have closed your eyes and imagined him, especially not while being fucked by another. But for some reason, some reason completely unknown and foreign to you, you just couldn't burn his image, his taste, his scent from your memory. Whether your ex-fiancé would climb on top of you, take you from behind, lay beneath you- whatever it was he did- you couldn't shake Joel fucking Miller from your head.

"Tha's it, babydoll." A guttural groan seared through your ears like the heavy bass of a song, engulfing your senses with the high burning flames of pride that his praise so often left you feeling. "S'good for daddy."

Joel watched with darkening eyes as your tongue swirled along the tip of his head, licking the precum that leaked from his thick, twitching cock. His fingers had stitched themselves within the yarn of your hair, pulling and guiding you exactly where he wanted you to go. But Joel didn't have to do that much. Oh, no. Not with you. It was as if you were apart of him, as if you knew exactly what he wanted, right when he wanted it. Like you could read his mind. His thoughts were yours to swim through just as much as they were his.

You stared up at him with big doe eyes and, unbeknownst to him, eyes full of adoration. All you wanted was to please him. All you wanted was to taste his cum and feel his love. All you wanted was him. Every day, every night, every morning, every holiday. And although you were young, you were certainly not naive, and you knew why Joel snuck in through your window at night. Not for love, not for deep conversation, not for peace. When he sought you out, he wanted to partake in carnal sin with you. Joel wanted to lick your skin and taste your passion, he wanted to swallow your moans and take you like a wild animal, hungry for a taste of your sweet, devilish nectar.

You gulped thickly in the dead silence of night, staring up at the crescent moon. Thoughts of him filled you dreadfully full to the brim, and all the guilt from the nights you spent dreaming of him and not the man you were supposed to marry, came bubbling up to the surface, choking you. In the end, it was the reason you left your clueless, heartbroken fiancé. You could no longer lie to yourself, you could no longer go about with the it is what it is mindset.

As the night darkened with swirls of purple and navy, and the air grew colder with December chills, you decided it was finally time to go inside. When you got in bed you were met by the absence of his warmth, by the longing for his touch, the smell of his skin, the linger of his fingers. You fell asleep to thoughts of him, dreaming of what once was.

_______

The living room of your old home had been transformed into a winter wonderland full of crimson and gold, the smell of mulled wine and freshly baked bread thick in the air. A crackling fire raged on in the fireplace, filling the room with a warmth not usually found within their walls, and guests were strung about on couches talking, leaning against walls and flirting, and some lingered about the kitchen taste-testing your mother's newest creations.

You wore a simple red dress with black tights and a matching cardigan that would just not stay up on your shoulders, blending in with everyone else for the most part. Your makeup was done, hair perfect, jewelry secured- everything that played a vital role to look presentable at a function held by your parents, you had made sure to do. There was no use in upsetting them, not after the anger and resentment they threw at you when you broke up with that dear sweet boy they thought was just much too good for you.

You rolled your eyes at the thought.

There was a heavy knock on the door that it seemed only you heard, the radio to your left playing a mix of vintage Christmas music you had had memorized since you were a little girl. Setting down the glass of wine, you made your way to the front, slowly opening the door.

A slap in the face of that delicious, panty soaking cologne threw you for a loop. You didn't have to look up from the broad, flannel covered chest to know exactly who it was. Your legs were already shaking, mouth already watering. Yet, despite this, anger drummed within your chest, tugging at your heart with its gnarled, sharpened claws.

Your eyes flicked up to meet his own. Those honeyed orbs that reminded you of the earth after a fresh rain, deep and knowing and mysterious and.... perfect. Always so perfect, so beautiful.

"Joel Miller." You stated, much more plainly than you thought you could ever muster.

"Well hello there darlin'. Long time no see." He purred so sweetly you would have missed the sarcasm if you weren't properly listening. A shit eating smirk tugged at his lips, hidden behind the dark moustache you had become well acquainted with many moons ago. "You sure look pretty. Did ya' miss me?"

A tight clench to your jaw caused your teeth to hurt, nostrils flaring with the heat of aggravation. Your body deceived you, crying out for his touch. It didn't forget all those orgasms he gave you, all those marks he left. How could it?

"No. I did not." You finally lied right through your teeth, cementing your fate in the fiery pits of hell as you grudgingly allowed him to enter.

Joel still towered over you menacingly, and it made your thighs press against themselves. He stared at you, long and hard, taking you in like a drunkard scanning the liquor aisle. "No ring?" He finally spoke.

"No. I left him."

He sniggered, raising an eyebrow. "Probably 'cause you were thinkin' about me too much."

"Just go get some beer, talk to my dad, and leave me alone!" You finally snarled, narrowing your eyes at him. Joel raised his hands in silent defense, shot you a wink, and left you standing in the foyer like a dumb, lost fool.

All night you tried to avoid him. Despite this pact you made with yourself, your eyes always managed to wander towards him, and he always managed to catch you staring. He never approached you about it, he just tilted his lips in a smirk and went right back to whatever conversation he was apart of, nursing a dripping bottle of Modelo, with that damned smirk never leaving.

It wasn't until dinner was being served that you noticed your place card settled right beside his. Great. You groaned.

"It's too late to change places now. You should have told me earlier." Your mother scolded you for your audible discomfort, setting down the casserole dish of sweet potatoes. "Next year, tell me in advance. Instead of waiting last minute and moping about!"

"Yes ma'am." You muttered.

A group of men walked in discussing football amongst themselves, and the remaining chairs were soon full of their laughter and conversation. Joel sat down beside you, smoothing out his jeans with those perfectly roughed up hands. You glanced down at them, tracing his knuckles and nail beds with your eyes. You began chewing on your lower lip, and he had no doubt what you were thinking of.

"Betcha' missed these hands. Hmm?" His voice was so quiet, only you could hear. "These fingers, too."

"You are the most arrogant fucking man in the entire universe, Joel Miller. Has anyone ever told you that?"

His eyes lit up with delight. You stared into them, old memories and feelings you had tried to suppress rushing to the forefront of your mind. The sting of guilt filled your heart. "You jus' did, darlin'." You groaned again, quietly this time, and your ears twitched in annoyance at the sound of his sly chuckle.

"Let's say grace." Your father held out his hands, that fake smile of his stretched out across his face, painfully taut and insincere. He wore a pitiful clown mask. Always had.

You took the hand of the person to your left, someone your mother used to know from a Bible study, and with an annoyed eye roll, grabbed Joel's hand to your right rather brutally. The roughness of his palm felt warm and familiar, and Joel took note of how your legs squeezed together at the initial contact.

"Our father..." Your own began, and you slowly turned to face Joel.

His tongue swiped across his lower lip, his eyes shut as he did his best to listen to the falsehoods your father peddled, about family and togetherness and the giving season of Christmas, and so on so forth.

But Joel wasn't stupid.

He felt your gaze burning holes right through him, and had no problem cracking open an eyelid to meet your line of sight. Your cheeks burnt with embarrassment, and you quickly looked away, too nervous, too scared, too everything to meet those chocolate orbs again.

His thumb circled itself across your knuckles, the rough pad of his digit igniting a fire within you, and you felt his arm slowly moving your entwined hands down towards your thigh. You didn't stop him. How could you? He let go of your grasp, his fingers digging into the fabric of your sheer tights, lifting your dress up ever so slightly. His short nails danced across your skin, lightly tracing shapes and letters against it. Slowly crawling higher, higher, higher....

"- We love you, our good and almighty Father. Amen."

Joel took his hand away, and no one was the wiser.

No one except you. You cleared your throat quietly, beginning to pass around the fresh, steaming food to those nearest of you.

For a while you stared at your plate. Honeyed ham, whipped potatoes, sauteed green beans, crisp broccoli. None of it sounded good. You poked around with your fork, chewing on your lip as you mindlessly paid attention to the conversation bustling around you. Joel was immersed in a conversation with your father about the NHL or NFL, you didn't know because you didn't really care, and your mother was laughing with her friends about shared nail salon stories and talks of their husbands.

"You know, our daughter could have had a husband by the New Year." Your mother finally said, pointing the rim of her wineglass towards you. The blood colored liquid sloshed against the transparent glass, dribbling down the side like falling tears.

Looking up from your plate, you faked a smile. "Yep. Could've."

"Can you believe this girl, Joel?" Your father finally spoke, shoving a fork full of casserole into his wide mouth. "He was perfect, really. Polite, hard working, on his way to law school. Apparently she doesn't know what's good for her." He was practically guffawing, his eyes rolling with each syllable.

Joel turned, looking at you. His brows were knitted together, lips slightly parted, and he looked at you with a curiosity you had not seen him show before. You cleared your throat once more, finally taking a bite of your potatoes and steering away from his burning gaze.

"You're right, dad. I don't know what's good for me."

"When I was her age, phew..." Your mother wiped the fake sweat from her brow, her friends joining her in a choir of laughter. "Let me just tell you, I never would have let a catch like that go. He was so handsome, too."

"Why'd you even leave him, anyways? You never did tell us. Your poor mother was up all night crying when you finally broke the news."

You dropped your fork with a loud clang against the porcelain of your mother's finest China, shrugging your shoulders with an exasperated groan. "You know, I don't really know. I guess I just felt like it!" You lied, your tone dripping with annoyance, soaked with the familiar hiss of sarcasm. "I guess- well you know me- my tiny little female brain can't possibly comprehend what's good for me!" Abruptly, you stood up from the dining room table, narrowing your eyes.

"Don't talk to your father like-"

"You want to know why I really left him, pops? Are you dying to know?"

His cheeks had puffed up like the chest of a mating bird, eyes darkening dangerously quick as he stared daggers into your soul, praying and hoping you would keep talking. Anything for an excuse to have a go at you. "Why?" His voice was low, yet still inquisitive.

"Because the only time I could cum was if I was thinking about another man. Are you happy now? He couldn't please me. He was lazy. Annoying. Li-"

Whack.

Right across the face. A searing hot poker branding your cheek with a hefty, molten, angry slap. His tongue swiped the inside of his cheek, yellowing teeth gritting against themselves so hard you could have sworn you heard a crack. He had his finger pointed, ready to pull the trigger and unleash a spew of cusses and shouts your way, before he was stopped by Joel's deep, anger laden voice.

"Hey!" Joel had jumped up on his feet with lightning fast reflexes, and the room had gone eerily quiet. "Come on now, man. That ain't how we treat ladies." He had grabbed your elbow to help steady you, your head dizzy and eyes clouded with prickling tears. Your father shot daggers at you, paid barely any mind to Joel, and stormed out of the room, steam bellowing from his ears.

Joel looked at your mom, the deep crease settling in against his forehead. "I'll help clean 'er up. Jus' stay here and enjoy the rest of your dinner." He managed a charming smile despite the anger brewing inside the tightness of his chest, and you walked alongside him as he led the way to your room.

Your room.

Joel found the lingering scent of vanilla and tobacco candles filtering in through his nostrils, the familiarity transporting him back to nights dripping with the silver hue of the moon, the softness of your skin and the swirling of your tongue heavy at the forefront of his memories. It reminded him of your gaze, hungry and devilish, the sharpness of your incisors biting into his skin as he took you hard, as he took you rough, as he made you his. The whisper of your sweet voice, the feeling of your chest against his, the way you made him dizzy with the addicting high of desire.

Now is not the time. Not now, while you held your cheek and stared angrily at your wall, tears of both resignation and resentment pooling, your mascara flaking by the corners of your eyes. He felt a bit like a horned up asshole, admittedly.

Joel crouched in front of you. His jeans spread tight against the thickness of his thighs, the top buttons of his flannel unbuttoned, giving you access to the golden hue of his chest. Now is not the time, you thought to yourself. Not when you wanted to be angry at him, not when you craved to push him away.

"You are the last person I need taking care of me." You snarled. "I-I-" A hiccup erupted from your mouth, a shaky sob leaving you. You were embarrassed by the fact you had crumbled so quickly. "Just leave. Like.... like you did the last time."

"The last time?" He spoke incredulously. "Is your brain workin' properly?" You stared bitterly in his direction, arms now crossed over your chest. "I don't know if you remember, but you're the one that left me."

You sat in silence, top lip curling with confusion. "I asked if you wanted to come with me..."

"To some fancy city hundreds'a miles away from my home? Just up an' startin' a completely new life? That's what you were askin' me to do, babydoll. It was you who decided to leave." His fingers found their way to your knees, his voice calm yet firm. He gave them a tight squeeze, letting you know he was there, that he was present, that he wasn't planning on letting go.

"Are you blind? Did you not just see what happened out there?" You sniffled, wiping your runny nose on the sleeve of your black cardigan. You didn't push his grip away, not when it felt so warm, so good. "I had to leave, Joel."

"If you woulda asked, instead of running off all impatient like ya' did, I would've taken us somewhere. Southwest.... Dallas, maybe. I-I haven't put much thought into it." A complete lie. Even Joel couldn't convince himself of that.

Oh, he had thought of it alright. Day and night, when all he had was his right hand to keep him company, when you were far away sleeping with that kid who wasn't him. For the first time in his life, he had found himself feeling jealous. Jealousy caused by a woman he had no business being so fond, so infatuated, so in love with. A part of him felt ridden with guilt, unsure of the implications your relationship had. The other part didn't give a flying fuck.

"You.... you really would’ve?" Your voice was quiet, barely a whisper. Joel felt his heart tight against his chest. It hurt for you.

All he did was nod.

"And I-and I left you!" You wailed into your hands, falling against his chest. "I fucked it all up!"

"Shh." He held you quietly, his heavy palm rubbing circles into your lower back, gently thumbing the fabric every so often. "S'alright, now. I'm here. I've got you, babydoll."

"I can't even imagine how you felt." You mumbled into his ear, your fingers finding a stray curl behind it. "Knowing I was off with some idiot." A thick stutter of breath got caught in your throat, your nose still sniffling. "I thought of you everyday."

Joel nodded against your head. "I know, I know you did."

"Now is not the time for your ego-"

He cut you off. "I know, because I did too. And me and you? Well, I always thought we were entwined. One in the same. Same typa' fabric, or cloth or.... somethin'."

You pulled away, blinking slowly. "Are you being romantic with me?"

He nodded slowly.

You weren't quite sure what to do, you just stared at the man before you, heart pounding, eyelids fluttering. He moved his hand higher up your leg until he reached your waist, tightly holding it. His fingers grasped into your skin, gently keeping you in place for his eyes only. Joel savoured your presence, taking in every inch of you that he hadn't seen for what felt like a lifetime.

"Will you get up here... with-...." you trailed off for a moment, slightly worried, "-with me?"

"I was startin' to think you'd never ask." He climbed up on the bed, leaning his back against the headboard. Joel pat his hands on his lap, beckoning you to come closer and take a seat on him.

"Maybe.... take those off?" You pointed to his jeans, chewing on the inside of your cheek. A smirk graced his mouth, and he nodded in silent agreement, quickly kicking off his worn leather boots and denim jeans. You settled down on his lap, legs on each side of him as you straddled his waist, nose to nose with him.

You had always adored his nose. Slightly curved, with a beautiful bridge that ever so slightly jutted out. Joel was the most handsome man you had ever seen, and you had seen many men. The crows feet by his eyes had deepened since the last time you saw him, and his curls had been salted with more strands of white. His cheeks were scruffy with prickly facial hair, but his thick moustache had always remained the same. You gently ran your finger across it, setting your palm against his cheek.

He leaned closer to you, fingers brushing a few stray hairs away, before planting his lips against yours in a deep, sensual kiss. Your stomach awakened with butterflies, fluttering and kicking against your rib cage, before all you could taste or smell was Joel.

Joel, Joel, Joel.

That's all you heard in your mind.

Joel's fingers crept towards the heat of your middle, and he let out a deep grunt of frustration when he realized you still had on your pantyhose. It didn't take long for him to quite literally rip them off, setting you back down on his lap as he held you tight and close, almost fearful of letting go. His thick finger traced down the middle of your cotton underwear. Joel felt the wetness pooling at the front, and he smiled a genuine smile against your mouth.

All for me, he thought to himself.

"Look at me."

You pulled away, his lips now stained like cherries from your lipstick, his hair slightly disheveled and out of place. He took a hard swallow, gently running his hand down the side of your face, burying it in your hair.

"Let me make you feel good."

You nodded quickly, falling back on the softness of your mattress.

He peeled your cardigan off, followed by your dress and his own shirt, and you were left with nothing but your mismatched bra and panties, a picture of perfection laid out before him. His hands trailed down your belly, its supple softness a stark contrast to the well-worked leather of his aging hands.

Joel slightly shook his head. "You're so beautiful." He leaned down, planting a kiss to your stomach, his chin resting on your cloth covered mound. "But you already knew that." You giggled softly to yourself, rolling your eyes as you gently cupped his head in your hand.

"If I didn't before, I certainly do now."

He fingered his digits through the hem of your underwear, quickly discarding them and throwing them off to the side. "Ain't she a 'beaut..... now that's somethin' I've not seen for quite some time." He pushed your legs apart gingerly, face to face with your pink, glistening pussy, open and laid bare for his eyes only. You saw the thirst swirling around in the orbs of his eyes.

Joel circled your swollen clit with the tip of his index finger before gently pushing it into your opening, smiling to himself as he heard your wetness. A quiet moan escaped you, and you gently brushed your thumb against the corner of his eye, staring down at him.

He was so handsome. So handsome. That's all you could think of as his fingers continued their much welcomed exploration of the folds of your labia. Joel relished in the slick coat of your glistening arousal on his fingers, and he felt his jaw tighten with a mouth watering craving for the sweet taste of your cum in his mouth.

He couldn't hold back anymore.

He leaned forward, wrapping his lips around your throbbing clit. It elicited a long moan from your lips as you tried your hardest to remain quiet, your stupid family’s Christmas party still playing its scenes just outside your door. Joel swirled the tip of his tongue against your button, his big hands holding your thighs in place.

"Oh, Joel." You mewled quietly, fingers knotting themselves in his hair. "Right there baby, right there."

He hummed against the folds of your pussy, tracing shapes with his tongue, altering between slow and quick, soft and hard. He knew just what you liked, just what you wanted from him, and he had no problem entertaining your wishes.

Joel pulled away, pushing his middle and ring finger inside your entrance, its tightness engulfing him right up to the knuckle. He groaned, knowing how good you felt stretched out on his cock like the good girl you always were, always had been, for him.

"Jus' like this, darlin'?" He muttered, already knowing the answer. Your eyes met his, as he slowly pressed up against the spot he knew made you go crazy.

"Mmhm." You whimpered, holding his curls even tighter. "Need to cum, Joel."

"Ask nicely, baby. Where are your manners?"

"Please. Please. I want you to cum for you, daddy."

"That's better." Joel growled a primal growl deep in the confines of his throat, leaning back down and sucking your clit into his mouth.

If there was one thing Joel loved without a doubt in this life, it was eating your pussy. He loved pushing his nose into your clit while he fucked your folds with his tongue, he loved overstimulating it after a particularly violent and shattering orgasm, he loved teasing it with feather light touches. He loved feeling you squirm, hearing you whimper, listening to his name like a prayer on your lips. You chanted his name like he was your God, your savior, your protector. You chanted his name like it was the only name you had ever learned. And by God did it get him riled up.

Joel shoved his tongue further inside of you, tasting your sweetness, lapping it up like a dog who had just found water after days of searching.

"Damn honey, gonna give me a fuckin' toothache with the way you taste. So fuckin’ sweet. So good.” His voice was raspy with desire, fingers fucking you deep and hard, your clit trembling between his lips.

"Oh, God.... oh, daddy."

"Tha's it, babydoll. You gonna cum for me?"

"Oh!" You cried out softly as his fingers pressed against your g-spot, his tongue swirling across your clit steadily and firmly. You were on the brink now, right at your breaking point. He kept up the sameness of his movements, repeating each step as perfectly as the last. It only took a few blinks, and waves of pleasure came rushing across your body, flooding all your senses as your ears rang with your first proper orgasm in God only knows how long.

"Daddy, daddy, Joel, oh-fuck me-Jesus, oh, God." You had no wits about you, blabbering and muttering like a fool, clawing at his scalp and pulling his hair until his eyes burnt.

Joel pulled away from your clit and placed the flat of his tongue against your folds, slowly licking you from bottom to top, before his mouth rested on your sensitive button once more. He planted a deep kiss against it, making sure he didn't miss an ounce of your dribbling cum.

"Was that nice?" He asked smugly, his facial hair coated and shimmering with your juices. He already knew the answer his question would elicit, he just liked being a bastard sometimes.

"Mhmm." Was all you could manage.

Your eyes wandered down to his remarkably tight boxers, his bulge tenting up against the fabric. "Fuck me." You whispered. "Please."

"So polite." His voice was like a purr, and he shot a cocky smile your way. "Yeah, I'll fuck you alright. Daddy's gonna make that pussy feel real nice." His deep Southern drawl sent shivers down your spine, his voice so deep and raspy. All man, Joel Miller.

He climbed on top of you, his arms on each side of your head, cradling your face as he looked down at you. Your gazes met, and a lovesick smile broke across your face. "God, I missed you."

Joel had to strain his ears to hear you properly. "I missed you." He admitted in turn.

He grinded against you, his boxers coated in your arousal. You felt the thickness of his cock pressing deeper into you, and your moans of want, no- of need- were all that filled his ears. "Want me to fuck that lil' pussy?"

"Please. Please, daddy."

"Don't think I'm gonna go easy on ya' just because it's been a while." He chuckled into the crook of your neck as he pulled his boxers down, his dick springing out with a gentle slap against your thigh.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"That's my girl." The head of his dick was pressed against your entrance, and he met your forehead with his own. Your noses melded together, lips brushing against the other, and Joel pushed in with one swift motion.

You couldn't help but gasp. "Jesus Christ. Feels so good, Joel."

"You're so fuckin' tight."

Your nails gently dug into his shoulders at the sound of his voice. Deep, guttural, primal. His eyes were blinded with archaic desire, lip caught between his teeth as he watched your face with every thrust, every twitch. Joel thought you looked perfect beneath him. A portrait of angelic beauty, for his eyes only. Smooth skin, a dazzling smile, eyes full of emotion reserved just for him- he felt like the luckiest man in the world, getting to take you just like this. His thumb swiped a strand of hair that had strayed away from your scalp, and he nuzzled his prickly cheek against yours, causing a faint burning sensation that felt too good to pull away from.

“Joel?” You muttered quietly into his shoulder, your fingers cascading down the center of his broad shoulders.

“Y’okay babydoll?”

“Joel, I-” Your forthcoming soliloquy was cut off by a moan from the back of your throat, and your fingers grasped ahold of his curls even tighter, his face scrunching up with a pained wince. “Sorry. I-”

Joel’s thrusts were deep, hard, slow, he hit every spot he knew made you shiver, every spot he knew made you drool and gasp for him. He loved watching your face contort with pleasure, the way your eyes would go wide and nostrils flare with every deep breath, the way your tits looked as your chest inflated with gasps of air.

“What was that?” His words were laced with smugness. He was making you feel this good. He was. Joel Miller was the luckiest man in the world, getting to fuck your pretty pussy.

“I just wanted to say- I- Oh!” His cock twitched inside of you, and you could feel his own orgasm soon approaching. “I just wanted to say thank you.” Followed by a whimper that made Joel’s stomach twist with some fancy feeling he hadn’t felt for quite some time.

“For?” He muttered between each thrust, eyebrows knitted tightly together as he focused on his movements, one of his hands holding himself up, the other buried against your head, warm beneath the comfort of your hair.

“Everything. What you did for me earlier, oh-oh! Mmm. Yeah, right there. And-and how you take care of me. How you make me feel.”

Joel nuzzled his forehead closer to your own, eyes dead set on the other, lips brushing together. You felt his fingers gripping tighter, teeth clenched, eyebrows tightly together. For a moment you wondered if you shouldn’t have said what you said, or perhaps waited until a better time, but Joel quickly relieved you of the negative thoughts creeping in, and kissed you with a fervent passion he didn’t know was inside of him.

You moaned against his mouth, tugging at his curls, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he kept his pace.

“Makin’ me blush.” Joel groaned out once he pulled away, nodding a bit as if he were giving himself an internal pep talk before continuing his speech. “Thank you for lettin’ this old fool take care of you.” You giggled softly, shaking your head in disapproval.

“You’re not an old fool.” Peppering his face in soft, gentle kisses of affection, you laid your head back down and stared up at him. “You’re just old.”

Joel rolled his eyes. “Doesn’t matter how old I am, darlin’. Still gonna make you cum for me.”

You let out a soft moan at his promise, feeling his hand snake down to your pussy once again. His middle finger began tracing circles in your sensitive clit, wet and welcoming as he filled you up to the hilt with his thick cock. He had never felt something so good, so sweet. He figured he must have been the luckiest man in the world, and he knew he was an idiot to have willingly let you go so many moons ago. Joel figured he could have saved you from a lot of heartbreak and restless nights.

Your walls clenched tightly around him, and you felt that familiar sensation of an oncoming high brewing within your stomach. “Gonna cum, daddy. Gonna cum for you.”

“Yeah? You gonna cum all over this dick? Like the good girl you are?”

That did your head in. That was the final nail in the coffin. You had to bite down on his shoulder, hard, to muffle the sounds of your orgasm, your pussy contracting against his dick as he rode you through your orgasm, making sure to hit that spot as he did so.

It wasn’t long until you felt his own orgasm coming in the form of sloppy pushes and muffled grunts. Sweat had started beading up at his forehead, stray curls sticking down in every which way, and you held his face in your hands as you watched the emotion enter and leave his masculine, solemn features. There was nothing quite like watching him finish inside you. His jaw would clench, his forehead would wrinkle, and his eyes would always meet yours as he pushed his nose into your cheek, whispering your name like it was a promise. And this time was no different.

Joel held you tight, stuck to you like glue as his orgasm washed through him, and when it faded away he was still holding you against his hot, sweaty chest, hands in your hair and mouth on your neck.

“Oh, Joel.” You murmured, brushing his hair back.

There was a long moment of silence as he caught his breath. Finally, he spoke:

“Let me take you away from here.”

Swallowing a thick lump that had been forming in the back of your throat, you propped yourself up on your elbows and looked at him curiously. “Right…. right now?”

“I should’ve done it two years ago. I should’ve…. should’ve known what was goin’ on. If I knew he hit you like that-”

“It isn’t your fault, Joel. I shouldn’t have….” Taking in a shaky breath, you scooped his hand into your own. “Take me anywhere you want. Anywhere in the world, and I’ll be by your side through it all.”

Joel looked at you with a glimmer in the darkness of his eyes, and in that moment he knew just what he had to do. He would move mountains for you if it meant keeping you safe, he’d climb Mount fucking Everest if he had to, and in that second your eyes met, he promised himself harm would never, ever come to you again.

In the silver light of the moon that came swirling in through the transparent curtains of your room, he had never seen you look so beautiful. He knew he was in love, as your big eyes stared up at him, full of hope and adoration. He knew he would do anything it took to take you away from this God forsaken place that had caused you so much harm.

He would be your protector, until the day he died, and no harm would come to you under his watch. As he took your face in his hands and professed his love through deep kisses, that was all he knew. You, and the deep, lovely feeling that you would always be for him and his eyes only.

Oh, if only Joel knew the world would be ending soon.

801 notes · View notes

twogyuu · 7 months

Text

not really magic

Pairing: Vernon x fem!reader

Synopsis: In which Jeonghan runs out of babysitter options, so he drops Nina off with Vernon and his girlfriend. Little do either of them know, just maybe the little girl is more capable of making them confront the questions of their future than most adults.

Genre: Fluff, mild angst, good helping of crack, established relationship, featuring ex!JJK

Warnings: Profanity, McDonald's PlayPlace

WC: ~6.3k

A/N: It's Nina from Wonwoo's Tasty Milk (and Cereal) causing chaos again! This has been in the works for a hot minute! Unedited and VERY cringe-y, cheesy, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!! I'm kind of embarrassed to be publishing it tbh, but it's the most I've written in forever so I'm just publishing it and then running/hiding💀🤡 The thought that two people are mature enough to talk about these mundane things just makes me feel some type of way T^T

This wasn't inspired by any particular song, but kyungsoo's 'somebody' and sundial's 'rollercoaster' are quite fitting for this fic. Happy reading :)

. . . .

It was a well-known fact that Vernon was not very good with children.

He was not unkind or inconsiderate towards them by any means, but he simply didn’t know how to interact or communicate with them.

And to be frank, though you were a little better than him, it was only by a margin because you had younger siblings at some point (they’re now grown) and kid cousins. It has been a while since you’ve been around children in general – he’d imagine you were rusty to some end.

Consequently, it took him by surprise when Jeonghan called and you agreed to watch his four-year old daughter on Saturday while Jeonghan and his wife were at yet another wedding of their in-laws.

To be fair, however, Wonwoo and Leah were also attending, so their usual babysitter was already not an option. The backup, Mingyu and his best friend (cough, cough – situationship), were out of town attending a music festival. Seungkwan, the backup to the backup, was hosting someone’s bachelor party. The only other father of the group, Minghao, had his hands full with growing and surprisingly, wild twins. Seungcheol was an expecting parent – his wife could go into labor at any moment. The rest of the crew was only slightly less reliable than Vernon and you.

He guessed that extra one percent must count for something.

There was no doubt Jeonghan and his wife were still nervous about leaving Nina with the two of you – and rightfully so.

Vernon and you were relatively young – in age, spirit, and well, your relationship. At least from what Jeonghan could observe, the two of you were clearly not ready for kids, whether they be your own or Jeonghan’s.

Vernon was terrified and he had a feeling Mr. and Mrs. Yoon were too.

They perhaps trusted Vernon a little less than they did you because while Vernon was standing and staring down at Nina by the front door of your apartment, Jeonghan’s wife was going through a laminated sheet of instructions and tips with you in regards to caring for Nina in the next six hours. Hands on hips, Jeonghan was standing over his wife’s shoulder, offering supportive nods and stern, unhelpful ‘mhm’s’ to back her up.

“Hello,” Nina finally squeaked, peering up at Vernon.

She was definitely Jeonghan’s kid – it was in the eyes: brown, round, and innocent, but with a hint of mischief glaring in the corner of her irises.

“Hey,” Vernon greeted back casually.

“Where’s Uncle Wonwoo?” she asked. Her eyes wandered from the tall man and glossed over the unfamiliar apartment.

“Uh,” Vernon panicked and stalled in his reply.

Why the heck was she asking about Wonwoo? Vernon can’t remember already knowing his babysitter by name when he was four.

“Uncle Wonwoo has a giant teddy bear in his house!” she marveled. Her tone was quick to dip into disappointment. “But I don’t see him here.”

Vernon felt his breath grow more shallow. By the power of Boo Seungkwan, he hoped this kid wouldn’t already start crying on him.

He had to make her feel better. How do people make kids happy?

Games? They like games, right?

“Do you wanna play rock, paper, scissors?” Vernon blurted.

Nina peered up at him again, face twisting as she processed the situation and her emotions – confused, curious, and amused.

He would take it.

Vernon silently held out his fist to the girl, waiting for her to take the bait.

“What are you guys doing?” your voice floated into the vicinity, breaking the silence and awkwardness.

Nina and Vernon looked over to find you standing with Jeonghan and his wife on either side of you. Vernon noted how the way his wife was dressed in a light blue and him in a dark suit, was eerily reminiscent of an angel and devil on your shoulders.

“He asked if I wanted to play block, paper, scissors,” Nina explained quietly. She looked back nervously at Vernon.

Granted Nina had not been around Vernon and his girlfriend a lot, her uneasy behavior around Vernon did not go unnoticed by Jeonghan. Nina was smart: wary of strangers, but never shy like this. Perhaps shy wasn’t the right word, but there definitely something going on in that little head of hers. As if she was calculating and observing, trying to decipher Vernon.

You raised a curious eyebrow in the direction of your boyfriend.

“It’s rock, paper, scissors, Nini,” Jeonghan corrected his daughter softly. He skirted around you to come pick her up, a quiet grunt leaving his lips when he heaped her up into his arms. Nina curled into her dad’s chest.

“We’ll be back in a little while, baby,” Mrs. Yoon walked over to the father-daughter duo. She rubbed the little’s cheeks with the back of her finger to soothe her.

Nina lifted her head from her dad’s shoulder and whispered a little too loudly. “What if they’re not fun like Uncle Wonwoo?”

“Nina,” her mom chided.

“Dang, little girl,” you said under your breath.

Vernon bit the inside of his cheek, holding back the urge to laugh. You were blunt for better or for worse.

Jeonghan, her father a little more understanding knowing Vernon for longer, rubbed the little girl’s back. “They’ll be . . . just fine.”

. . . .

Vernon was not sure what Nina did exactly when she went over to Wonwoo’s place, but it must’ve been comparably better than what she was doing here.

Shortly after Jeonghan left, the little girl dumped out the contents of her bag and began to busy herself with the rather few activities she brought along: a coloring book and a set of markers, a hard-covered picture book with a dog on the cover, a doll, and five pieces of those giant Legos. She burned through each item pretty fast – Vernon figured you could only stack the different colored blocks in various order so many times before you got bored.

It was fortunate that Nina already had lunch before coming over and her mother had packed a simple snack of apples and peanut butter to bridge her to dinner. However, as the clock ticked closer to 6PM and the little girl was growing bored, you could also tell she was getting hangry.

Vernon had tasked you with entertaining and playing with Nina. It wasn’t fair, but he figured Nina would like you better than him. He would just observe from afar and take some notes for next time.

“Can I ask you something, Miss Y/N?” Nina wondered aloud. She brushed her doll’s hair with a small purple plastic brush.

Sitting criss-crossed across from her, you hummed and nodded. “Sure, squirt – what is it?”

You didn’t think much of it. A four-year-old’s questions can’t be that deep.

“Are you and Uncle Vernon like my mommy and daddy?” she looked up at you innocently. “And like Uncle Wonwoo and Auntie Leah? Why did mommy tell me to call you ‘miss’ instead of auntie?”

You choked, feeling your cheeks grow warm as you glanced over your shoulder at Vernon. Sure enough, his eyes were lifted from his phone and boring holes through your back – not without the slightest smirk and quirk of an eyebrow. He waited patiently for your answer. The question was honest and innocent – he wasn’t sure what was so funny about it to him or embarrassing to you, but it was.

“Um, kind of,” you replied slowly.

“Huh?” she crinkled her nose.

“Uncle Vernon is, err . . . my boyfriend,” you explained, wondering if she understood the concept of stages in relationships.

“Boyfriend?” Nina repeated. “Like . . . a friend boy?”

“N-no! No, no!” you exclaimed. Now, you didn’t want to give Jeonghan’s kid the wrong idea about being friends with boys meant a romantic relationship. “N-not . . . really.”

“Then you’re like mommy and daddy?” she said more certainly this time.

“No,” you sighed, “Your mommy and daddy are married. Wonwoo and Leah are engaged – they’re going to get married. Uncle Vernon and I . . . like each other a lot but we. . . aren’t there yet.”

“Will you get married?” Nina asked innocently.

“Um,” your voice trailed off, feeling your heart race at her bluntness. That decision wasn’t entirely up to you, but how did you explain that to a four-year-old? Gosh, why did she ask such hard questions in the first place?

The fortunate thing about being four was that your attention span wasn’t very long.

Nina huffed, setting her doll onto the floor. “Miss Y/N, I’m hungry,” she rubbed her tummy. “Can we eat?”

You let out a small sigh of relief. Classic Yoon: puts you in your doom, but somehow also saves you from it.

“Sure baby,” you reply, you threw Vernon a quick look over your shoulder. “Let’s see what’s in the fridge.”

“Um wait–” Vernon rose from his chair.

“Yay!” Nina cheered. She stood up excitedly and grabbed your hand. Despite her immense effort, not surprisingly, you don’t move much. “Does Uncle Vernon cook well? Uncle Wonwoo doesn’t, but Auntie Leah does.”

“Y/N, hold on,” Vernon jogged over and grabbed your other hand.

You paused in your stride and peered at him through your lashes. You waited patiently for him to continue. Nina looked up the same and impatiently swung your linked hands around.

“Um,” he played with your fingers quietly. His cheeks felt warm as he confessed, “We . . . I-I, um, haven’t gone grocery shopping yet.”

“Oh,” you said softly, putting the pieces together slowly. “So . . . what you’re saying is you don’t have food?”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

“Vernon,” you started. There was a scolding tone to it. “I told you to grab a few things before Nina came over.”

“I know, I know! I just got carried away with work and stuff,” he explained.

You pulled your hand away from him, pressing your lips into a thin line. You can’t believe he didn’t do it! You had reminded him three days in advance and all the days to follow after. Per usual, your mind spun to the future. If he could pull through for this, what did it mean for when the two of you live together?

Just as you opened your mouth to say something, Nina suddenly let out a high-pitch shrill. “Yay!”

You both startled and looked down at the little girl, confused.

“Let’s have McDonald’s for dinner,” she stated firmly.

Nina grinned wide. There was a mischievous glint in her dark brown eyes, one that was all too reminiscent of her father’s.

She was a Yoon through and through, alright.

. . . .

A quarter pounder, double cheeseburger, large fries, twenty pieces of McNuggets with one of each of the special sauces, Fanta, topped with a chocolate milk that Nina was sipping on was spread out on the two square tables you pushed together to hold all your food. This looked like it could feed a family of six, yet you were only three people. Originally, the plan was just to get Nina a Happy Meal, you and Vernon with your own individuals, but the little girl insisted on additional McNuggets and fries too – when you were in the bathroom.

You were quick to learn that Vernon had little to no immunity to the little girl. It was understandable, but you hated playing the “bad cop” and disciplining her.

“Wanna see a magic trick, Nina?” Vernon asked with his mouth full.

She grinned at him, excitedly.

Vernon’s expression mirrored her own and held up a McNugget in front of his palm. “Watch carefully.”

Nina nodded while stuffing a fry into her mouth.

There was a dramatic pause, his free hand covering then uncovering the McNugget like he was casting some sort of spell on it. You too found yourself curiously watching from the opposite end of the table, your chewing slowing.

His hand blocking the view of the McNugget, though you could clearly see his face from where you were sitting, he quickly stuffs the piece in his mouth. Vernon smiled brightly, with his mouth closed as he chewed, clapping his hands together as if he just puffed it into Dragon Land instead of his mouth.

Nonetheless, Nina being a kid and equally fond of your boyfriend, marveled excitedly.

You scoffed, shaking your head, mumbling a quiet ‘seriously’ under your breath. Vernon must have heard it though – his eyes flickered up at you momentarily while taking Nina’s hand in his own.

You reached over and adjusted Nina’s tray. “C’mon Nina, finish your apple dippers – we gotta go.”

She turns her attention away from Vernon and back to you. She stared at you with wide-eyes, mildly creepily – you knew this look. It was reminiscent of when Jeonghan knew he just pissed off his wife, but she doesn’t know yet, and he was trying to butter her up before then (it never works though).

Nina’s chubby little fingers clung tightly onto your forearm, nails digging into your skin as she jumped and whined.

“Miss Y/N, do we have to go so soon?” she asked cautiously. She craned her neck towards the PlayPlace to one side of you. “Can we stay a bit longer? If I finish my Apple Dippers?”

Now you finally understood why Nina wanted to not only eat from McDonald’s, but also in it.

“Nina,” you grabbed her wrist in an attempt to calm her down, “There’s a reason why your mommy doesn’t let you go inside the playground.”

“PlayPlace!” she was quick to correct you.

You huffed and repeated after her, “PlayPlace. Nina – we’re not going to disobey your mommy.”

“Why?! Daddy does it all the time,” she protested.

You heard Vernon snort from the other side of the linoleum table. He was halfway through another Mcnugget, doing his best to suppress the grin forming on his face.

“Your daddy and I are not the same,” you told her. “Besides,” you wrinkle your nose, “It’s disgusting in there – feet and all.”

“Miss Y/N!” she threw her head back in a howl.

She gave you her best puppy eyes, but you didn’t budge.

As if a light bulb went off in her mind, she perked up and let go of you. Timidly, Nina circles around and approaches the other side of the table. Hands clasped behind her back, her fingers tangling with the strings that pulled her dress back, she peered up innocently at Vernon and offered him a friendly smile.

“Uncle Vernon?” she asked. Her tone was completely changed from when she was begging you just seconds earlier.

“Hm?” he hummed, oblivious as day to the little girl’s advances.

“Will you play with me?” Nina continued.

“Uh,” Vernon’s eyes flickered up to you and you simply leaned back in your seat, getting comfortable as you crossed your arms over your chest.

To be frank, taking care of Nina with Vernon did not feel like it was with Vernon. From home to here, you were the little girl’s main companion on top of making sure she was safe, hydrated, and well-fed. Vernon trailed the two of you like a lost shadow. You were annoyed at his lack of contribution, to say the least. It’s not that you didn’t like Nina and you were trying to be understanding of Vernon, but taking care of a child (and low-key him) was difficult – your sanity mattered to! You weren’t Wonowoo – you could only say and take so much about Pokemon!

Perhaps it was already too soon to be thinking about this, but it was difficult to ignore the voice at the back of your head, nagging about what this meant for you and Vernon in the future. Granted you both have only been dating for a little over a year, the question of marriage and kids were far and few. When they did arrive, it usually was in the form of a loose tease from Seungkwan about how the two of you were hopeless as parents. Vernon would just shake his head and laugh it off.

He never seemed to take this topic quite seriously. Your passing comments about cute kids at the zoo or how the Penguins of Madagascar showing was filled with children and their parents, were taken lightly, when perhaps you didn’t really want them to be.

You knew you wanted at least one kid, but did Vernon?

You needed to ask and you were aware, but you thought it was probably pretty ridiculous to bring this up already. I mean, this might not be forever, right?

A lot has already changed in this year.

A lot can change in a year.

Your internal struggles aside, you were interested to see how Vernon handled Nina on his own.

“Uncle Vernon?” Nina asked again, “Pretty please? I’ll eat all my apple dippers!”

“But your mom and Y/N . . .” his voice trailed off as he echoed your concern.

“It’s okay! Mommy’s not here and I have you and Miss Y/N! And there are nets and mats,” she pointed out to him.

Vernon hesitated – why was it so difficult for him to turn her down? He was an adult after all.

“I mean,” he rubbed the back of his head and looked up at you again. “I guess?”

You smirked, cocking an eyebrow at him. Maybe, out of spite, you’ll let this one go for once. Vernon can explain to Mrs. Yoon why her daughter reeks of feet and grease when they come to pick her up later tonight.

“Whoo!” Nina cheered as she ran back to her seat next to you. She started shoving the last of her apple slices in her mouth in a haste, not even caring for the caramel dip.

“Slow down, Nina,” you warned.

“Uncle Vernon is the coolest!” she shouted instead. She grinned happily with pieces of apple stuck in her teeth, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

. . . .

It was an instant regret for Vernon.

Currently, he was trapped in one of the blue plastic cube bridge pieces at the very top. He was far too grown for the PlayPlace and could not bulldoze through it like Nina. While the little girl easily maneuvered her way around the maze, Vernon could hardly crawl through it. He tried to curl into a small ball and waddle through, but that wasn’t helpful either. The extra creaking with each step was also not very reassuring. The only nice thing was that there weren’t other children in the PlayPlace right now; no douchey eight-year-old to hurry the fuck up.

“Uncle Vernon, come on!”

But, there was Nina.

Her head popped into view, the netting separating him and her. “You’re so slow! We have to climb through all of this before Miss Y/N tells us to go!”

Vernon shifted uncomfortably, feeling his neck tighten from the cramped position he was in. “Maybe we should go,” he tried.

“Nope, nope!” Nina shook her head furiously. “We’re already inside! There’s a slide at the end.” She curled her fingers through the netting and jumped excitedly. “We can go down and run back in before she sees us.”

Vernon followed her nervous gaze towards you down on the floor. You’re seated at the same table the three of you were just eating at, scrolling through your phone. Despite your calm expression, Vernon could definitely tell, something wasn’t sitting right with you.

“Let’s go!” Nina shouted.

“Nina, wait–”

However, the little girl was already crawling down the narrow corridor at the speed of a lab mouse trained to recognize a maze.

Vernon sighed, sparing you one last glance before he continued. You’re watching him this time though. It was comical the way the contraption creaked again and the corner of your lips tweaked up as if to mock him.

He looked away and followed in the general direction Nina had headed. He really shouldn’t be in here – what if one of the screws were loose and all just collapsed with one misstep?

Vernon felt guilty for thinking such thoughts knowing Jeonghan’s daughter was in here with him right now. He had to keep her safe! He can’t be manifesting these disasters. Turning the corner towards a light, Vernon decided that the goal would to slide out of here with Nina and not go in. Maybe, he could say it was because he would get in trouble with you or something.

“Boo!”

“Agh! What the fuck!” Vernon shouted. He tumbled towards an opening, hand resting on his chest. Searching his surroundings, he found Nina beside him, giggling.

“Language!” he heard you shout in the distance.

“Fuck!” Nina repeated. She hid a chuckle behind her hand.

“Don’t say that, Nina,” Vernon scolds her breathlessly.

“But why?” she asked. “You did – do people say it when they’re scared? Fuck!”

“Oh my god – Nina, stop,” he shook his head anxiously. “Th-that’s only a word, adults are allowed to say, okay? If you say it in front of Miss Y/N or your parents, you’re going to be in big trouble.”

“I can say it with you though, right, Uncle Vernon?” she whispered. “Fuck!”

“No, you cannot,” Vernon stated sternly. He looked at the opening. This must be the slide. He pointed to it and told the little girl, “Let’s go down, okay? I’ve had enough fun for tonight.”

“Aw,” Nina whined, “Already?”

There was another groan from the equipment – louder this time. He cannot stay here much longer.

“Yes,” Vernon nudged her towards the opening. “You first, I’ll be right behind you.”

“Fine,” she pouted. Her short arms hang onto the top rim, swinging back and forth to build momentum before launching herself down. “Whee!”

When Vernon heard her land on the other side, he stuck his legs, one by one, into the tube and tried to push himself down.

Key word – tried.

He got stuck after sliding probably two feet. Vernon groaned and threw his head back. “Seriously?”

“Uncle Vernon?” Nina’s voice echoed through the slide. “Are you coming?”

“Y-yeah,” he used the heel of his Converse to nudge himself a little further. “Just stuck.”

“Oh no!” Nina cried. He heard her step into the slide again. “Should I come help you?”

“No, no, no!” Vernon exclaimed desperately, “Go back to Y/N – I’ll be out soon. Promise.”

The last thing he wanted to happen was for Nina to be crawling up and he suddenly crashed into her.

“Okay.”

He let out a small breath of relief when he heard a soft landing of her shoes on the foam carpeting. Vernon inches down slowly, finally gaining some traction. He started to speed up with the combination of pushing with his hand, pulling himself forward, and static. When he saw the clearing, relief washed over him.

However, as luck would have it, of course, he’s too damn tall for the opening. Vernon was cramped at the opening, knees tucked and arms squeezed between his body and the plastic. His neck was craned to the right – he could hardly look up at you and Nina who were hand-in-hand watching him.

“Um,” he smiled sheepishly, “Help?”

Nina was a little faster than you, rushing over to his aid. Her added weight as she climbed onto the landing must’ve been the straw that broke the camel’s back because Vernon heard a sickening crack and his arm suddenly felt a little looser and freer.

Well, fuck.

. . . .

“Y/N!”

You were bent over, hastily adjusting Nina’s sweater before the three of you left McDonald’s. You were irritable after quite literally breaking Vernon free from the PlayPlace slide. It was embarrassing to have to explain to the teen McDonald’s employee that your boyfriend created a crack in the slide, when there was a sign that quite literally said no one older than eight years-old was allowed to enter the contraption.

When you look up, your eyes immediately widen as you’re greeted with the sight of your ex, Jungkook.

His hair was a little longer now, and permed, the tips of his bangs hanging over his bright doe eyes. His fashion didn’t seem to change – still sporting the simple jeans and baggy t-shirts; a plaid flannel was tied to waist. What took you aback, when perhaps it shouldn’t have, was the petite girl in a white sundress who wrapped her hand tightly around Jungkook’s arm when she saw you.

All thoughts of Nina, who was standing between you and Vernon, fled your mind. You stiffened, unsure of how to respond and what to say, other than a strained ‘hi.’

It wasn’t that Jungkook has a sore spot in your memory – in fact, your breakup was mutual and as good as anyone could ask it to be. After four years of dating since high school, you realized you both grew into different people, and therefore, apart in college. It was a mutual loss of feelings for one another, a mutual agreement that you should go your separate ways. Of course, you were sad for a short bit, but nothing of a heartache.

Nonetheless, there was a part of you that wished he didn’t see you when you were upset with your current partner. Jungkook probably did not have those sort of malicious thoughts, like ‘didn’t know how good she had it with me,’ and it was most certainly all in your head.

Or perhaps it was you? You wanted to show him you were doing well, but you couldn’t fake it at this moment.

All in all, the reappearance of your ex, only made you feel more insecure for some reason. Maybe Vernon wasn’t the right person for you even if deep down you wanted him to be. You knew your break up with Vernon would be much worse than the one with Jungkook.

“Nice to see you again,” Jungkook tried. His eyes flickered to Vernon – they weren’t close, but they knew each other peripherally from mutual friends. Jungkook quickly added, “The both of you.”

“Likewise,” Vernon piped up in a neutral tone.

“Um,” Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck, looking from Vernon to you and back. Momentarily, he glossed over Nina, an idea of the situation clearly forming in his head. “Are the two of you . . .?” his voice trailed off.

It must’ve come as a surprise to see you and Vernon together like this for neither of you were close in university. This relationship was almost a surprise to you and Vernon, yourselves. You couldn’t blame Jungkook for being puzzled.

At this, Vernon reached for your hand and cleared his throat. He gave you a firm squeeze, resting his free hand on Nina’s shoulder. To be frank, Vernon didn't care what idea exactly Jungkook was getting – the point was, you were together. Boyfriend-girlfriend, husband-wife, father-mother. Jungkook could think Nina was somehow your kid and he wouldn’t mind.

“We are," Vernon finally answered firmly.

You turned to your boyfriend with wide eyes.

“Oh,” Jungkook said softly. “I’m happy for you guys.”

“Thanks, I am too,” he looked back at you nonchalantly before nodding in Jungkook’s direction. “On that note, we should be on our way.” He ushered Nina towards the door. “Enjoy your meal.”

. . . .

When the three of you returned to your apartment, you started preparing Nina for bed. It was clear to Vernon that something was bothering you – you were quiet for the rest of the evening, diving head first in taking care of Nina. And to be honest, something bothered Vernon too since encountering Jungkook.

Vernon did not envy others, nor did he claim to be perfect. It wasn’t that he was jealous of Jungkook and the unknown, presumably happy past that you had with him. What happened, happened and you were with Vernon now. He’d like to think you were satisfied with this relationship just as much as him. Nothing would change that. Vernon was content with who he was, who he had become, and who he was next to you. Nonetheless, Vernon was only human – insecurities were inevitable despite his best efforts.

He knew this turbulence making him solemn was irrational. You had not given him a reason to doubt you and he never did to begin with. Despite knowing this, it didn’t make this feeling any less real.

Did you regret breaking up with Jungkook? Was Jungkook a better boyfriend than Vernon?

From what Vernon has heard through the grapevine, Jungkook happened to be every girl’s dream in university. Good-looking and adventurous, yet still respectful and caring.

Vernon thought he looked alright, but his style was unconventional. He liked to take the city bus around at night if that counts as being adventurous?

For fucks sake, Vernon was no Jeon Jungkook. Vernon was in fact just stuck in a slide today.

Though he knew it was unproductive to ponder these things, it was what kept him preoccupied as he put Nina to bed.

“You should kiss Miss Y/N,” Nina stated randomly.

Vernon furrowed his brows at the little girl.

“She looks sad and you do too,” Nina explained. She laid her small hand over Vernon’s. “That’s what daddy does when mommy is sad.”

“I think it’s time for you to go to sleep,” Vernon sighed, pulling the blanket up to cover her chest.

“Do you love Miss Y/N, Uncle Vernon?” Nina asked.

God, the gall of kids – always asking the hardest, but most important questions obliviously.

“Miss Y/N said earlier that you’re her boyfriend,” Nina continued. She kicked her feet under the covers. “Do you have to love each other to be boyfriends? Kind of like mommy and daddy are mommy and daddy because they love each other? Or Uncle Wonwoo and Auntie Leah? Miss Y/N didn’t tell me earlier when I asked about getting married.”

Did he love you? Did he want to marry you?

Vernon hesitated to answer and to be frank, he hated that he was. However, it wasn’t because he didn’t – these questions of the future were just overwhelming and he enjoyed what you had now. Alas, if things were to progress, he’d have to have answers to them soon.

“If I’m being honest, I don’t know, kid,” Vernon mumbled. He planted a soft kiss on her forehead. “Good night, Nina.”

He didn’t wait for her to reply, turning and making his way to the door.

“You should still kiss her, Uncle Vernon!” Nina whispered in the dark. “Good night!”

. . . .

When Vernon exited your bedroom where Nina was residing for the rest of the evening, he found you sitting on the kitchen counter. Your head is hung, eyes swarmed with questions like his own. Your legs swing back and forth, gently knocking against the cupboards. There’s an open bag of Cheeze-Its sitting next to you.

Vernon walked over, quietly and cautiously. He knew you knew he was present, but didn’t acknowledge him. Tenderly, Vernon reached for your hand, loosely weaving his fingers in between your own. Eyes slowly rising to look at you, he mindlessly ran thumb along the side of your hand. He offered you a wistful smile as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear with his other hand. His touch lingered across your cheek.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked softly.

You paused for a moment, eyes flickering up to the ceiling before falling to your lap again. You let out a heavy breath. Your heart swelled, appreciating how he always made these kinds of moments feel a little easier.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered.

“For what?” Vernon asked despite having a pretty good idea of what you were referring to.

“What happened at McDonald’s, running into Jungkook,” you explained, “Today.”

He hummed in understanding. “What about today, exactly?”

It was hard to hold your gaze – it was scary, but he knew he had to. He tried his best to put on an encouraging expression, knowing that this conversation, and further, this relationship would not go anywhere if neither of you were present, physically and mentally, and trying to avoid it.

Only the ticking of the wall clock filled the room, deafeningly so. It was slowly drowned out by the sound of blood starting to rush in his ears, tension growing thick with each passing second.

Your voice barely above a whisper, you took a shaky breath and confessed, “I like you a lot, Chwe . . . and,” you inhaled sharply, squeezing his hand. “That terrifies me.” You swallowed harshly, “Because what if you don’t feel the same? Or we want different things? I think I’d be . . .heartbroken.” A melancholic chuckle left your lips and you shook your head. “That's why sometimes, I feel like I treat you like such - we get too close and I push you away.”

The fear in losing him was evident in the terror that etched its way in between the space of your brows. Vernon was sympathetic; simultaneously, his heart swelled like a balloon rapidly being filled with water to the rim, threatening to burst at one final drop. The adrenaline that rushed through his veins felt like that of being confessed to by a middle school crush behind the bleachers of the soccer field, except, well, you and him were already together.

“I was worried there for a second,” Vernon stated truthfully.

Your eyes whipped up.

He played with your fingers. “I thought you were regretting dating me for a sec.”

“Oh?” you said softly.

“I was kind of not the best boyfriend today either and then we saw Jungkook and I thought maybe you felt differently about me,” he explained.

“Vernon, no!” your hands reached up to cup his face.

“I mean, can you blame me?” he chuckled half-heartedly, “I got stuck in a slide when you told us not to go.”

“I think today,” started slowly, “Made the both of us think a lot about us and what the future holds.”

“So, it wasn’t just me,” Vernon acknowledged quietly. He thought to himself momentarily before continuing. “What do you want?” You stared at him owlishly, your desires on the tip of your tongue, but fearful to share them with him. “We can’t move past this if we don’t talk about it.”

When you still didn't reply, Vernon offered, “I can tell you what I want?”

You nodded once.

“I think dating you for a few more years sounds okay,” he started, staring off to the side. He nodded, better affirming his words.

He paused, making you grow anxious – does that mean he planning on breaking up with you?

“And then, maybe . . . being married sounds nice too – nice is an understatement,” the words felt unfamiliar as they fell from his lips, but he kind of liked it. “It seems far away, but I’d really love that.”

This was something he hadn’t told anyone before because he never felt quite the same with them as he did with you. It wasn’t just easy and comfortable being with you – it was something more. It was in hard moments like this, where these conversations were difficult, but you both still managed. It was in lighter moments, where he could enjoy your company and feel relaxed. It was everything in between.

Call him corny, but maybe the word ‘love’ can’t encompass it all that he felt for you.

His face stretched into a grin when you chortle and shake your head. Playfully, you push him away, but Vernon was quick to catch onto your wrists. “You did really well with Nina today.”

“I think she liked you more than me,” you mumbled.

“What do you think of Nina?” he asked.

“She’s Jeonghan’s daughter, alright,” you joked.

“She did suggest I kiss you tonight,” Vernon remarked, remembering his chat with the little girl before this.

“Well,” you wrap your arms around his neck, “Do you . . . want to?”

Vernon answered by leaning in, lightly pressing his lips against yours. It’s fleeting, but still filled with the same sincerity as every other passionate kiss you’ve shared before.

“If you want kids though, I’m not sure I’m ready for them yet,” Vernon said when you pulled away.

“Oh with how you broke that slide, that’s certain,” you joked.

“Does that mean you do?”

“A family? With you?” you wrinkled your nose playfully. “Nonsense.”

He knew that look – when you don’t really mean what you say, but rather the opposite. Despite all the angst prior, this conversation was surprisingly easy to have. Maybe that was the lesson to be learned: not perfection, but just doing.

Vernon chuckled, about to lean for another kiss when suddenly Nina’s familiar shrill shattered the moment. He jumped away from you as if you were delinquents caught by your mothers making out in the kitchen.

“Mommy said we shouldn’t sit there like that!” she squealed, her fingers pointing at you on the counter.

"Nina, you're supposed to be sleeping," you scold.

“We shouldn’t sit there like that though,” Vernon acknowledged. He walked over and helped you down, not without pulling you into his side though. You’re a little stunned with him being so affectionate suddenly – not that he never was, but he usually showed it in other ways, smaller gestures like the kiss he’s pressing into your temple now.

Nina eyes the both of you curiously, the situation being pieced together slowly in her tiny head. It was visible when she put it all together, her eyes lit up.

“Are guys getting married now!?”

Or not.

. . . .

Epilogue

“Hey dad,” Nina tapped Jeonghan’s forearm. Pushing a piece of kimchi between his lips, he hummed softly and glanced over at his daughter. “Do you want to see a magic trick? Uncle Vernon taught me.”

When did Vernon start learning magic tricks?

“Sure,” he nodded, curious to see what his friend taught his daughter.

With her training chopsticks with Ryan Bear on one end, she holds up a slice of pork in front of her hand. Shielding it with her other hand, she stuffed the piece of meat quickly in her mouth and shouted, “Ta-da!”

Jeonghan swallowed his food harshly and narrowed his eyes at his daughter. “Squirt – what?”

“Did you like it?” she grinned happily, returning to her food.

“You j-just . . . ate your pork though?” Jeonghan stated.

“Mhm! Magic!” Nina chirped. She giggled happily and took Jeonghan by surprise by shouting, "Fuck!"

Jeonghan nearly spat his water out, the profanity ringing in his ears. "Who taught you that word!?"

"Uncle Vernon too!" she kicked her feet happily.

Jeonghan ran a hand over his face and mumbled under his breath, “Oh dear - Yoon Nina, in this household, we do not use that kind of language do you hear?"

Nina's joy simmered down and she shrank back, nodding understandably. She knew when her dad used that voice, she shouldn't push her boundaries further.

His wife popped her head into the room upon hearing his brewing.

Jeonghan sighed exasperatedly and turned to his wife, "I think we should stop hiring my friend’s as Nina’s babysitters.”

#vernon x reader #vernon fluff #vernon angst #vernon scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #seventeen angst

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oepionie · 1 year

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BELOVED BAT-WIFE. lilia vanrouge

Characters: Lilia Vanrouge x Fem! Reader, Platonic! Sebek x Fem! Reader

Synopsis: Lilia's wife makes an impromptu visit at NRC. Sebek is dragged into this mess and has to help her sneak into the campus.

A/N:: This is the first fic I've written in years!

Tags: Fluff, Established relationship, Maybe a bit OOC?, Reader is not Yuu and is said to be a mage

Word Count: 800+|💌Masterlist | Batwife masterlist

"Lady Vanrouge! When you told me you planned to visit, this wasn't what I had in mind!" Sebek hissed, staring at you through the gate's frame. He responded to your SMS asking him to meet you at the school gates as soon as possible. Despite the fact that it was two in the morning, he ran to your position right away. How he arrived in under 10 minutes is remarkable.

"I did say it was a last-minute decision." Shaking your head, you pulled the hood to your robe up and slipped on a pair of leather gloves. Indeed, you did send Sebek a letter to inform him of your plans beforehand. Leaving out the fact that you planned to sneak in like some petty thief.

"Now hold this gate steady for me, ok?"

Sebek's eyes practically sprang out of his head when you started climbing the tall gate. He yelled at you to be careful as he grasped the gate with both hands, firmly grasping the metal bars. You easily climbed to the top and laughed as you tossed yourself to the opposite side. Shrieking, Sebek ran to catch you, nearly toppling over from the force.

"Nice catch, my boy!" You grinned, patting his shoulder and setting yourself down. Sebek heaved, kneeling over and pressing a palm over his chest to calm his racing heart from the stunt you just pulled.

"You-Lady Vanrouge-!" Sebek started. "You're a mage! Why would you do that!"

"Teleporting or flying would definitely be easier…but that's boring~" You drawled, a cheeky grin on your face.

"Now, which way is that mirror again? It's been ages since I last set foot on this campus-literally!"

You linked both your arms together and began to pull the boy towards the academy, ignoring any and all of his complaints.

"I really think we shouldn't be doing this." Sebek muttered, begrudgingly pushing the doors to the mirror chamber open. You both slid inside, the door behind you closing with a snap.

It was already late at night, and the moon shone through the windows, its light reflecting off the mirrors. You took a step closer to Diasomnia's portal, tracing the engravings on its frame.

Had they changed parts of it? You noticed certain details that were not previously present.

"Well, too late to back off now. You're making me start to think you don't actually want me here." You pouted, shifting your gaze to Sebek's rigid body beside the doorway. He jumped and dashed over, his cheeks flushed pink.

"Of course I do, Lady Vanrouge! Your presence is always appreciated! I only wish you had chosen safer means to visit!" He yelled, his booming voice practically rattling the walls. Chuckling, you ran your fingers through his hair before patting his head.

"I jest. Now, let's not keep them waiting. Shall we?" You clasped Sebek's hand with your own and stepped into the mirror.

A blur of colours hit you for a moment before you found yourself whisked away to the dark brooding castle Diasomnia calls a dorm. Standing atop the cobblestone steps, you took a deep breath. The air was thick with smothering moisture, like a fog.

The dim light of a window in the distance drew your attention. Among the many windows in the castle, it was the only chamber that was lit up.

"O-Oh? Is someone still up at this late hour?" You wondered, still light-headed from the teleportation. Sebek placed a hand on your back to stabilise your wobbly form. "Ah yes. That's probably Master Lillia, he tends to hold gaming sessions at this hour."

"Is that so?" You huffed, brows furrowing as you glared at the window. "...That damn bat."

Of course, this wasn't news to you. Silver frequently wrote to you about his father's long gaming sessions, which sometimes lasted days or even weeks. Just as you were about to march up to the castle, an arm wrapped around your chest, pulling you back.

"No need to look so mad, dear." A deep voice lulled.

Behind you two, Lillia appeared with an impish smile on his face. Sebek flinched before greeting Lilia vigorously while maintaining a stiff posture of attention.

"Good evening, Sebek! Would you go and get Silver and Malleus for me? This is going to be a lovely reunion." Lillia spoke, crossing his arms over his chest. He was perched upon a nearby tree, hanging off one of the branches.

"Yes Sir!" With that, Sebek was off, dashing towards the castle.

With a frown etched onto your face, you turned your gaze back to the fae who was still upside down. Lillia hummed, leaning forward to press his lips against yours. "Hello there, beastie."

"Still pulling the same old trick, I see." You grumbled, grabbing his arm to pull him down. Lillia smushed his cheek against your shoulder, peering up at you through his lashes.

"It's a classic of mine, isn't it?"

Likes and Reblogs are greatly appreciated and really motivating on my end!

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia vanrouge #twst lilia #sebek zigvolt x reader #sebek zigvolt #twst sebek #twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland fluff #diasomnia #silver vanrouge

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miraclewoozi · 6 months

Text

DRIVE. - l.c

DRIVE -- or, the night you realise it's actually very hard to stay mad at the guy who shows up at your house, throwing stones at your window on a Thursday night, to try and fix something that was your mistake in the first place.

pairing : chan x fem reader. content : fwb > lovers. angst, smut (MINORS DO NOT HAVE MY CONSENT TO INTERACT), fluff. more or less in that order. they’re both dumb as hell. not explicitly put in any detail but this was written with a more 70s vibe in mind so feel free to bear that in mind when thinking of the car/tech/styles etc if u like. w/c : 7.8k warnings : lots of swearing. it’s all a big fuckin misunderstanding because i am a whore for that. weed & alcohol mentioned (neither party is drunk or high at the time of this taking place). mentions of past cheating (neither mc or chan are the cheater). some pov switching because i said so. let me know if i've forgotten anything. proofread exactly once so if there's a typo, no there isn't. SMUT TAGS UTC. notes : dino. get the fuck off my ass. i’m so serious i am not strong enough to handle the very real feelings i have for you. go away. notes 2.0 : i listened to halsey’s drive for some inspo for this & took that as the title, so feel free to give it a listen if you want!

SMUT TAGS : dom!chan. car fuckin', making out, hair pulling, grinding/dry humping, fingering, finger sucking, dick riding, marking/scratching, unprotected sex (make good choices), overstimulation, multiple orgasms. praise. chan calls reader ‘baby’ & ‘sweetheart’. he’s a BIG talker during sex (sorry).

You’re not stupid. You heard his car pull up outside your house almost an hour ago.

Since then, at random intervals ranging anywhere between thirty seconds and five minutes, there have been clinks of a thrown stone at your bedroom window, a piece of the gravel that lines your driveway. Each time, it makes your jaw tense, makes your fingers tighten in the bedsheets you pulled all the way up to your chin in a foul mood at 8pm. It’s been the same now for almost two weeks — you’ve been getting home from work, showering the day away, eating your dinner and retiring to your room as early as you possibly can. Your roommate tried to find out what was wrong around day three but you very promptly shut her down — she’s since learned that the best she’s getting out of you currently is a dismissive wave of your hand or some kind of a grunt. She joked one evening that it was like she’d adopted a teenager; you scowled so violently that she went to her room.

Hardly any of your other friends have seen anything of you, either, despite the fact that several have come knocking to check if you’re all right.

You’re very much not all right, as it happens. This is perhaps the most upset you’ve ever felt, and that’s going quite some way. The angriest, too. It’s worse than when that middle aged woman threw her entire bucket of popcorn at your head when you gave her salty instead of sweet, and you were picking kernels out of your hair for the rest of your six hour shift. It’s worse than when your nasty supervisor ‘forgot’ you were in the bathroom and ended up locking you inside the cinema overnight, because you didn’t have your own set of keys to get out and the people whose numbers you remembered weren’t answering their phones.

It’s somehow even worse than when a summer crush from a few years ago broke things off by telling you that he already had a girlfriend back home and that you were basically just a means to pass the time and get his dick wet. God, and you thought that was the lowest you could possibly be.

Here you are, though, so far beyond all those things it would be comical, if it didn’t hurt. Chan has really done a number on you, and you’re not sure how you ended up getting so emotionally involved in your situationship with him that this is what you’ve been reduced to. For days now, you’ve been swallowing back tears of frustration (both with yourself and with Chan), rolling around in your bed night on night, unable to get to sleep because all you can think about is him.

Him, and the way he sounded genuinely horrified when his friends asked about the ‘movie girl’, and he laughed, ‘God, no – we’re just friends. That’s never gonna happen’. It was impressive, how quickly your face fell, in no way aided by the squealing giggles that rang through the house as a very, very drunk girl came running out of the living room and shut herself in the toilet, drowning out a chunk of the conversation you were listening in on. Somehow, it hurt even more when he went on to say ‘besides, there’s… someone else’.

And when you have managed to drift off after hours of staring at the walls and the ceiling, hearing those words on a loop on your fed up brain? Of course he’s been in your fucking dreams, too.

In your defence, all you were trying to do was use the mirror in the hallway outside the kitchen he and his friends were standing in, readjusting your top to cover the hickey that he had so kindly left on your collarbone just the night before. It wasn’t as though you sought him out to listen in; it was a coincidence. And okay, fine, maybe you should have walked away when the conversation turned to the topic of Chan’s love life. Maybe you should have not crept closer and held your breath to be able to hear them all better. Maybe, even, you should have stayed around long enough to ask what he meant by it then and there instead of hopping in a taxi and going home without saying goodbye to anyone.

Hindsight really is a beautiful thing.

Never gonna happen. Well, Chan seemed quite happy to ignore the fact that it already had happened. Several times. At least four of those being in the very car currently on the street outside your home. The car he’s used on countless occasions to drive you up to lovers’ lookouts in the dead of night, letting one of his many mixtapes play through the tinny speakers, where he’d kiss you breathless and cradle your face between his palms, as his fingers would delicately explore beneath your clothes, as his broad shoulders would slot between your thighs, as his hips rol–

And maybe you aren’t stupid, but Chan seems determined to prove that he sure as hell is. He came to pick you up from work the day after the party like nothing had happened, and couldn’t figure out why you said you would rather walk home in the rain than get in with him and stormed away without any further explanation. Then, he showed up on your doorstep on the morning of your day off with your favourite coffee and a breakfast bagel, asking if you could talk. He still didn’t realise what he’d done to upset you, so you slammed the door in his face. Finally, just earlier today, he ran after you in the mall, persistent as you’ve ever known him to be, and laid a hand on your shoulder when you didn’t turn around to just the sound of his voice calling your name.

You pushed him off so hard he almost fell over.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?!” You had barked, shrugging your shoulders to try and realign your jacket. “I don’t want to talk to you. What’s not clicking?”

His face resembled that of a scolded pet when he took a step back and frowned at you. “I just wanted to–”

“I don’t care what you want, Chan,” you spat. “Give it up. I’m done.”

You could see the desperation swimming in his eyes as he scrambled for what to say and your heart felt like it was being weighed down all the way into your stomach. You supposed that was the part of you that was causing all this ache in the first place, and further that it was to blame for your current state of misery. But you steeled yourself and stood your ground nonetheless. He wasn’t going to win you over with puppy eyes and a pout. Not this time.

In his silence, you only then noticed how hard your breaths were coming, each slow and long but still dangerously unsteady. You lowered your voice, top lip curling at him as you muttered, “You’re embarrassed of me enough to lie to your friends? Fine. I don’t give a–… but shit, next time, tell a girl that to her face instead of behind her fucking back.”

It’s been seven hours, and you keep replaying the last thing he said to you as you stormed away (how his voice got quieter when he realised you weren’t turning back; how he sounded so hoarse, so sorry).

‘I’m sorry if I hurt you - I— I never meant to.’

If. If. If. Were you not making it completely fucking obvious that he had, most definitely, hurt you? Part of your brain is even now starting to go down the route that he’s doing this on purpose, that it’s some twisted sort of damage control, that he hopes maybe if he plays dumb for long enough, you’ll forget what you were mad about or maybe start to second guess what you heard. But if that’s what he thinks, he obviously doesn’t know you very well at all. That’s never going to happen.

Hell, for someone you were being so careful to keep in the appropriate lane in your head, Chan really has you thinking yourself in circles. You’re sick to your back teeth of him, and his stupid voice and his stupid smile and his stupid –

Clink.

Stupid. Fucking. Stones.

A groan loud enough to definitely catch the attention of your roommate sounds from deep within your chest at this interruption to your spiral and you finally, finally concede. Whatever argument he’s so clearly longing to have at 11 o’clock on a Thursday night? Fine. He can have it. If it means he backs off for good, you’ll give him his one last ruck.

You pull the window open none too gently and lean enough through it that Chan comes into view. He isn’t even looking up, you realise, too busy sifting through the driveway trying to find his next little projectile, and you hiss his name to get his attention. It startles him so much that he drops the indiscernible bundle in his right hand. He blindly scrambles to pick it up, those big, earnest eyes gazing at you as if you’re floating in midair before him.

“What the hell are you doing?!” You ask him, trying not to raise your voice too loud but at the same time, needing to generate enough volume for him to hear. He holds the bundle in both hands, now, and they catch the light of the lamp by your front door. Flowers, you register, squinting to try and make them out, your brows furrowing so much that your forehead hurts.

Black dahlias.

You choke back a laugh. Ah, the joys of fooling around with the son of a florist. Are they all so damn dramatic? (Or does he just know that they’re your favourites?)

Whichever it is, you tell yourself that’s not going to work. You won’t let it. Through gritted teeth, you say, “go away. I’m serious. I’ll call the cops on you.”

He shakes his head, begging as he steps just a little closer so his face is more visible in the amber light too. “Please–” he hurries, biting his bottom lip. “Please, don’t– just… tell me what I did. I want to make it right. Please.”

He never begs like this. In all the time you’ve known him, you swear Chan has said ‘please’ to you fewer times than you could count on your fingers. Which is by no means a bad thing — that’s just always been the very comfortable nature of your friendship, and later, the -with-benefits tag that you ended up sticking on the end.

“Why are you doing this?” You ask, pinching the bridge of your nose and fighting not to shiver in the cold nighttime air. Note to self: don’t do a Romeo and Juliet in the middle of the fucking winter without layering up, first. “What does it even matter?”

“What do you mean, what does it matter?” He asks, looking down at the bunch of flowers in his hands, then back at you. “I-... you know I’d never hurt you. Not on purpose. Please, just… if I did something–”

“There’s someone else,” you echo, fed up with his pretending. He’s a fair actor, you’ll give him that – he might even have been able to convince you, if you hadn’t already heard the other half of this tale he’s doing his best to spin in his favour.

His face screws up, thinking he’s misheard. It’s his turn not to understand now. If you’re telling him you’ve met someone else, he’s got questions, because you’d promised to be open and honest with each other if that ever happened, so that you could call things off and go back to being just friends without it becoming a big deal. That was always supposed to be a calm conversation, not… whatever this is. You talked about it, right at the start. But… those are the words you’re saying, aren’t they? And why would you be mad at him if you were the one whose circumstances had changed?

“What?” he asks, finally. “What do you mean?”

“God, no – we’re just friends. That’s never gonna happen. Besides, there’s… someone else!” You raise your voice without really meaning to, before swallowing hard and glancing back inside your room. “You said that, Chan. Don’t piss me off by coming here and pretending like you didn’t.”

Chan starts to look like he’s trying to figure out an algebraic equation in his head while only having half the required information; his eyes fall down to the gravel, his lips move without any sound coming out of them, his features tighten until there are definite lines between his eyebrows. Then, it clicks. The lightbulb moment. He slaps one hand to his face and shakes his head furiously, and you just know he’s going to wake up with an ache in his neck tomorrow because of it.

“Oh fuck,” he curses. “No, no, no, no, no – that’s not–”

“What did I just say?” You spit down at him. “Don’t piss me off–”

“Listen!” He shouts, and you gesture with your hand for him to lower his voice, interrupting his flow of thought and rendering him silent for a moment. “Fuck, please. Come down here and talk to me. That’s not what you think it is.”

You’re in every mind to slam your window shut and leave him out there in the cold. It would work if you got out your headphones to drown out the sounds of him trying to get your attention, which you have absolutely no doubt in your mind that he would do. And maybe then he’d get the hint; maybe then he would understand that you’re not just some pushover who he can just pick up and play with when it suits him.

But he’s still holding those fucking flowers like they’re a lifeline, still looking up at you without a single lick of anger on his face. Not stress at having been discovered, which you would have expected him to be swimming in right about now. He looks… kind of beside himself, as if nothing could possibly be worse than what you’re threatening to do.

All this, for you? It just doesn’t make sense.

“Please,” he says again, quieter, weaker. For the first time, you pick up on the hint of a shiver in his voice, and you swallow. Whether you’re gulping back your pride, or your resolve, or the last remnants of your sensibility, you don’t know.

Does he deserve for you to hear him out? You’re not sure.

But does he deserve to be stuck out in the cold in just his stupid leather jacket and a pair of jeans?

With regret, you think, no. He doesn’t.

All you give him is a scowl before you disappear from view entirely, pulling the window closed and drawing your curtains again. Faster than you think you ever have before, you throw on a sweatshirt over your pyjamas, grab your keys, and hurry down the stairs as silently as you possibly can.

He’s stood in exactly the same place when you edge outside and pull the door closed behind you. Up-close, you can see the tiredness on his face: this is a man who has exhausted himself in worry, you think, and yet he still smiles a little when he sees you in full. He still holds the flowers out for you to take. He still purses his lips and blows out a stuttered cloud of air. Nervous, and not in the way you think he ought to be. So when you walk straight past him and don’t take the dahlias out of his hands, instead standing by his car and waiting for him to unlock it for you, you start to feel overwhelmingly guilty.

Chan is many, many… many things. But he really isn’t this good of a performer, no matter what you’ve been telling yourself all week. For God’s sake, why is it so much easier to be angry at him when he’s not standing right in front you?

You slip into his passenger side as he fumbles to set the flowers down on his backseat again, and he joins you up front just a few moments later. His hands are shaking when he sets the keys into the ignition. His whole body is. When you cast a real look over at him, the tips of his fingers are pale and his lips are lacking their usual rosy, pink hue. Your own teeth are chattering despite only having been truly exposed to the cold air for a matter of seconds; you dread to think how frozen he must be.

“Are we driving?” You ask to break the silence. Since he got into the car and fiddled with the heating settings to try and warm things up a little, he hasn’t said a word. It’s awkward. It’s horrible. You already miss the comfortable way you’ve been able to sit for hours together, barely talking, just watching the lights of the city and the cars travelling through it.

You already miss him. Which is a strange thought, seeing as he’s only about ten inches away.

“If– if you want,” he says, stuttering through the frost in his lungs. “We can go—...”

“Drive, Chan,” you say. It’s not just because you want him to stop falling over his words – which, to be fair, you do. Chan has always been very confident, carrying himself with the air of someone who knows exactly their worth. It’s one of the things you treasure about him. So this? Is fucking weird. But a big part of it is that you know his car will heat up faster if it’s in motion, and right now, you think maybe he’s at risk of losing a finger or two if he doesn’t get some circulation back.

He steps on the gas and the car pulls away from your home. It’s the first time you’ve ever been in his car without there being some sort of music playing, whether that’s historically just been the radio or a tape he put together with the help of one of his older friends. (The tapes that always had your first initial on them. The tapes that he never failed to ask your opinions on when he dropped you home – as if he’d compiled them with only you in mind.) The silence feels jarring and you can hear every rumble of the engine, every squeal of the brakes he definitely needs to get serviced.

But the car does warm through, and you sigh out relief as the bones in your hands move a little easier, as your fingers curl and uncurl to less resistance from your taut muscles. Chan feels it, too; his body relaxes, his breaths stop coming out in fractions, his face gets some colour back. The timing feels a little less awful when you finally say, “go on, then.”

Chan glances over at you as he drives down an unlit street. Only for a second, like he’s checking you’re still there, before his eyes train back on the road. He’s going to one of your favourite spots. It isn’t a lookout – it’s somewhere completely shut off from the rest of town, hidden by the trees near the railway tracks, somewhere you’ve never had to worry about being seen or heard. Maybe he’s anticipating a screaming match. Maybe he’s expecting something else. Maybe, even, he just cares about how much you love it there.

“I didn’t know you heard that conversation,” he starts, sheepishly. You want to roll your eyes, reach over and thump him, ask if that makes what he said okay, but you don’t. You stay looking out the front windscreen too. Waiting. “I… all right. I was out of my ass drunk.”

You click your tongue, pressing it afterwards against the inside of your cheek, but again, you stay quiet.

“I don’t think you heard what you thought you heard, though,” he goes on to say. “‘Cause– ‘cause it wasn’t…”

But you can only be quiet for so long in the face of this mess. Especially when he’s apparently working towards a doctorate in beating around the fucking bush. “I heard you tell your friends that it was never gonna happen with ‘movie girl’.”

Chan’s face brightens, and you can’t help but wonder what on Earth is wrong with this man. Why does he find that funny? Why is his chest moving like he’s trying not to laugh?

“And you… thought you were movie girl,” he says, nodding. “Okay. Okay – shit. I’m sorry.”

You look at him properly, now, as he indicates to the right and takes the turn that leads him down the lane to your spot. “What are you talking about?”

“I get it,” he says. “You work at the–... but you’re not movie girl. Not that movie girl.”

“Stop talking in riddles before I get out of this car, Chan. It’s too late for this shit.”

He holds a hand up as if to apologise and settles back against the head cushion, suddenly looking far more comfortable than he did thirty seconds ago. He clears his throat, running his tongue over his lips, before sucking in a breath and letting himself go on.

“You’re not movie girl,” he says again, successfully clarifying nothing. “There’s this chick I used to dance with — years back, before… God, when we were in school, like, forever ago. She moved away when we were sixteen.” As he talks, he reaches your destination and sets the car into park, before he unfastens his seatbelt and turns to face you. You do the same, shifting your weight to tuck one leg up beneath you, and with your undivided attention, he goes on. “I ran into her recently. She’s back in town now, I guess. It was like, two weeks—?”

“I’m gonna be all-over grey by the time you finish telling this story,” you interrupt, raising an eyebrow. “Can you please give me the short version?”

“Not if you want it to make sense,” Chan shrugs. Begrudgingly, you let him keep talking. “She said it would be cool to hang out, maybe catch a movie or do lunch or something — and look, I didn’t know she was asking me on a date, I thought she was just being nice, y’know? Trying to be friends, but… you weren’t working that day, it was when you had that… that stomach thing going on? And I brought you the soup my mom made, remember?”

You nod; of course you remember. At the time, you wondered why on Earth this grown man’s mother was making you food — you asked yourself whether he’d told her about you, or if she thought it was for someone else. In the end you decided he must have just been bringing you leftovers. But you’d been too worn out to start asking questions; instead, after you’d eaten, you let yourself fall asleep with your head in his lap as he patted your hair and hummed his favourite songs. You hadn’t let yourself think too deeply about it since.

“Anyway. We were sat watching the movie and she, uh,” he glances down at his lap, tips of his ears burning pink. “She put her hand, sorta, on my thigh? And then I was like, shit, I didn’t read this right, like… at all. So I moved it off and she took the hint — and after it ended I said to her, you know, I was flattered, right? But I wasn’t interested. And then I went home and got that soup and—… yeah.”

He came straight to see you. To look after you. Hell, you didn’t even fool around that night; in retrospect, it was all uncharacteristically domestic. And slowly, the pieces you’ve spent days struggling to fit together start to fall into place. It makes sense. The only question that remains is do you believe him?

Well, tell a lie.

There is one more.

“You said there was someone else,” you add quietly.

You’ll die before you admit it, but this is secretly the part that was hurting you the most.

You can’t even look him in the eye, right now; your cheeks are burning with the embarrassment of even caring. As much as you want to tell yourself that the only reason you’re pissed is just because of the dishonesty, you can only stare at yourself in the mirror and point-blank lie so many times. Someone else. You hate it.

Just the thought of him seeing somebody else, taking them out on dates, smiling at them, laughing with them, kissing them the way he kisses you, touching —

A shiver runs the length of you and you cross your arms, thrusting your sleeve-covered hands under your armpits.

Chan takes a deep breath in and exhales it slowly, like he’s blowing smoke out of his lungs. “There is,” he admits, nodding slowly, avoiding your eyes, too. “There is someone else.”

“When were you going to tell me?” You ask.

Chan doesn’t respond straight away. You don’t notice, but eventually his eyes do land back at you; it’s only when he clears his throat to get your attention that you look at him long enough to realise he’s quite deliberately staring. His lips are lifted on the right in a lopsided smile, his eyes soft as he reaches across the seats towards you. You stare blankly down at his hand until he wiggles his fingers, and you think briefly that this is the most fucked up ending to a situationship you’ve ever been through.

You drop one of your hands down and let him hold it, though, staring at his face as his thumb brushes over your knuckles and you wait for him to finally say it out loud. For him to announce that he’s fallen for somebody and that he can’t see you anymore. To put the nail in the coffin. Don’t tell me their name, you think. I don’t want to know anything about them. Please, just don’t.

“For someone so frustratingly smart, you’re really fucking dumb,” Chan says, finally, swallowing around his words and squeezing your fingers. Whatever stoic expression you had forced onto your face at the start of this conversation dissolves into irritation and you snatch your hand away from him again, letting his own fall and collide with a thunk against the handbrake.

“Oh, sorry that I didn’t realise you were sneaking around behind my back when that’s the one thing we promised we wouldn’t do,” you snap. “God. The only stupid thing I’ve done here is get involved with you in the f—”

“You’re the someone else.”

Oh.

“I’m—?”

“You.”

The admission hangs heavily between you, as does your nonsense, unfinished insult. Neither of you really know what to do with yourselves except sit perfectly still and try to somehow deal with your increasingly dry throats. When Chan moves, it’s only to turn down the heating dial when his cheeks burn a bit too hot; you appreciate it, in part due to the bead of sweat currently running down your back, but you don’t say so.

“You could have started with that,” you say weakly, wrestling with all your strength to keep even some of your cards close to your chest. It’s not working though. Your attempt to conceal your elation is a bit like throwing a single leaf on top of a bison and calling it camouflage.

Chan commits to laughing, finally, your sentiment breaking him too. Now, you do crack that smile, albeit mostly just at the sound that comes from him. It’s bright and airy, lighting his whole face up as he drops all the way back and leans against his car door, pushing his fingers through his hair. “I was trying to build to a moment! It’s not my fault you hit every branch of the anti-romantic tree on your way down.”

“I am not anti-romantic,” you scoff in protest.

“Yes — you are.”

“Am not!”

“Are too.”

“No, you’re just an idiot.”

“Says she who didn’t realise her fuck-buddy had feelings for about six months, Jesus.”

“Chan—” You start, your voice laced with a playful warning.

“Here I was thinking I was making it completely obvious,” he rambles on.

“— oh my God, just shut up and kiss me.”

“Dropping hints left and r—” … “Huh?”

He stops short a fraction of a second after you finish, stumped and silent, frozen with everything but a little buffering symbol above his forehead. Kiss me, you said. Chan, […] just shut up and kiss me. All right, you’ve asked him to do that before, but not like this. Not as if you’ll wither away should you not get a taste of his lips this instant. It takes him some time to process it, but he does move in first, eventually. The way he always does, closing the distance between you like he’s been shot out of a cannon, one hand either side of your face, crashing feverishly against your mouth.

Every now and again, he’ll be happy to let you take charge and set the pace: mostly just if he’s feeling lazy or especially generous. Tonight isn’t one of those times, however. He holds you and kisses you possessively, like you’re his, like this is how he finally gets to lay claim on you, licking between your gasp-parted lips after he moans straight into your mouth. He’s spearmint sweet, edged with that one cherry flavoured chapstick he stockpiles as he grins up against you, rolling his body fluidly with every separation for air, every changing angle.

He pulls your sweatshirt up over your head and throws it down into the footwell on the passenger side, straight away hurrying to kiss you hungrily again, hands cupping your neck. His tongue is in your mouth once more, there’s no way you could possibly differentiate your breaths from his: you’re one, in every way you can be with your clothes still on, but it’s not enough.

“Want you,” you whimper as he nips at your bottom lip and pleasure rushes through you from head to toe.

“You’ve got me,” he groans with his eyes still closed. “I’m all yours.”

“No,” you insist, whimpering when his cute little nose drags across your cheek until he’s pressing hot kisses to your jawline. “I— fuck—” He suckles on the sweet spot below your ear and your spine tingles, head tilting to give him better access. “Chan, I want you.”

Chan settles back from you, his usually bright, sparkling eyes now darkened with desire. All he gives you is a singular glance sideways, but you know exactly what he’s suggesting. You nod, breathing deep, biting the inside of your cheek; he turns off the headlights and it’s all systems go.

There’s a rush to scramble into the back of the car. Chan takes the keys out the ignition and climbs through the gap in the seats; you opt for the less hazardous approach of getting out of the vehicle entirely and re-entering it instead. Not that it bothers him — no sooner is the door closed behind you, Chan’s hands are on your hips and he pulls you on top of him, your leg knocking the dahlias off the leather and onto the floor in the process. You gasp and glance down but he averts your attention with two fingers under your chin, guiding you to look back at him.

“What? You think this is the last time I’ll bring you flowers?” He asks, capturing your lips as he leans up to you; at the same time, his hands drop low and he starts to slide open the buttons down the front of your pyjama shirt. “Baby, m’gonna get you so many more.”

You sigh at the affectionate name, at the change in its use; until now, Chan has only called you baby while he’s buried inside you, bruising you inside and out with sharp thrusts and rough-gripping fingers. But as much as you can feel him growing hard against the inside of your thigh while you try to get comfortable, one knee planted either side of his hips, you can’t help but feel as if this time, it means something different.

(He’s had feelings for six months: it always meant what it does, now. You know that, deep down.)

Somewhere in amongst the never-ending sloppy kisses and constantly travelling hands, you manage to strip both his jacket and T-shirt off him and you’re pressed bare-chest-to-bare-chest with Chan, feeling every little hitch of his breath in his lungs, every thump of his heartbeat, every tiny increase in the temperature of his skin. Your desperate search for friction between your legs has you rolling your hips down against his hard-on, drawing grunts and making him squeeze at your tits when you rock against him the right way. His head eventually drops to your chest and he replaces one hand with his mouth, freeing his fingers to slide down the front of your pyjama bottoms.

It’s honestly rarer for Chan to get straight to the point than it is for him to tease you a little first, so when he flattens his palm against you and brushes his fingertips over your already aching clit, you let out a squeak of surprise. He shivers, releasing your nipple from between his teeth for a moment; once he’s collected a little more arousal to ease the friction, he continues to rub at the bud, slowly building the pressure inside you.

“No panties?” He asks, struggle clear in the roughness of his voice.

“I was in bed,” you gasp, eyes rolling back. It’s for the best that it happens out of pleasure, really, because you’re not sure you’d be able to stop yourself rolling them in exasperation at his remark otherwise. You shuffle a little, lifting yourself up on your knees more, breath hitching when he uses the newly granted space to dip his hand lower and press a finger against your hole. “Please, Chan — this can’t be comfy— just…”

“S’fine” he argues, shaking his head, despite the fact that the angle of his wrist is actually kind of painful, right now. The truth is that he can’t bring himself to care: not when he can smell your fabric softener on the shirt still hanging off your shoulders, the shampoo in your freshly washed hair, all so pretty mixed with the damp scent of your desire. Not when you clench around him as he slides his finger in and out of your cunt. Not when he could get you to soak all the way through these pretty satin pants.

Your arms snake around his neck as he dips a second finger inside you to join the first. The way your thighs tighten around his hips could — should — be embarrassing, the fact his sturdy lap holds you open enough for your pussy to be toyed with even more so. You almost always do this too music, too — for what might be the first time ever, you can hear every single wet sound your body makes, every hitch of your own breath, every grunt he gives even though he’s not the one being pleasured.

You don’t even realise how you’re rocking up and down against his hand until Chan licks from the base of your neck to your jaw, smirking over your pulse point and says, “gonna ride my cock this good too, baby?”

And if it was anyone else talking to you like this, you would be embarrassed. Mortified, at being so needy you’re here doing all the work for him. At the cry you give as he splits and scissors his fingers to stretch you out. But instead? You feel another rush of arousal drool out of you as you press your nails into his shoulders and nod, bouncing harder and watching how his bicep tenses up solid with the effort of keeping his arm steady for you to use.

“Wanna,” you gasp. “Want it so bad, Chan—”

Despite your pleas for this to move further, when his hand pulls back out of the elastic of your waistband, you feel like you could throttle him. The urge ebbs away when his soaked fingers press to your lips and he quirks an eyebrow at you, though — you end up suckling them clean, licking up every trace of your own slick. You lock eyes with him as you do, slumping on your thighs so your drenched core sits right over his tweaking length, the seam of your pants giving just enough friction to your clit for it to feel good as you grind down on him again.

“Get those off,” he instructs, trying to sound hard and dominant. Which would work, perhaps, if his voice didn’t crack in the middle of the sentence. “Now.”

Even though you’re overcome with a need to tease him, the desire you have to be split open on his length outweighs it, so you do as you’re told and hold it in for later. It’s not easy, but you manage to manipulate yourself in his lap to work the satin down your thighs and past your knees. He helps you tug them the rest of the way past your ankles and feet, shoves them onto the floor — Chan’s hands settle back on your hips and yours skim down his stomach at the same time, fingers grazing over the little hairs that trail from his bellybutton down into his jeans.

“Can I?” You ask, playing already with his belt buckle.

He hums assent and you slip it all the way open, tugging as he moves his hips underneath you so you can pull it free from the loops. Between you, you manage to get his jeans unfastened, to pull both them and his boxer shorts down over his ass and to his knees; finally, fucking finally, his cock sits pretty and leaking and free between your stomach and his. It’s getting cold in the car now the heating isn’t on, but you’re already burning up in anticipation for him to ruin you; the way his abs ripple as he takes his shaft into his hand and strokes himself a couple of times to prepare tells you he’s in the same boat.

It’s like clockwork, from here. You shift into position as easily as you settle into bed after a long day. Chan rubs his tip through your folds, feels the warmth of you and hisses through his teeth with fluttering eyes. Just like always. This never changes. He can’t ever get enough of that first feeling of his cock against your pussy: it’s like the first hit of a blunt, like the first sip of a cold beer, the first full-body stretch early in the morning. He’s sure it’s what arriving at the gates of heaven must feel like.

You sink down onto him slowly, fluttering around his tip and stilling to give you both a moment to get used to the feeling. He’s thick inside you. Thicker than his pretty, dainty fingers have ever been able to stretch you enough for. Even as wet as you are, you still need to suck a deep breath into your lungs before you can relax your hips further and let your heat swallow him all the way to his base.

Chan’s head is tipped back in pleasure, he’s biting his lip at the sting of your nails pressing hard into the back of his neck. He loves it, though — loves how the pain shoots in waves down his spine, how it tingles in his brain, how he knows you need to anchor yourself this way or you’ll lose control. He kneads at your ass as you sit against his thighs, listening to you whimpering at how deep he is inside you.

“So fucking tight around me still,” Chan groans, focusing all his willpower into keeping his hips down on the leather beneath him. “Shit, baby — you feel so good…” His neck softens and his head drops forward again as you start to move, rising and falling over and over. He kisses your throat and down to your collarbones while you work up to a rhythm, sliding his palms up your back, hugging you close to him.

He isn’t even the one putting in the hard work, but within minutes of this, his soft, fluffy hair clings to his forehead. A light sheen of sweat makes him radiant under the moonlight breaking through the trees. He’s breathing heavily, the top of his toned chest painted a soft pink — you don’t think he could possibly look prettier. Not until he cups your jaw with his hands and you look upwards: you land on his smiling face, those plush, swollen lips, his devilish but sweetly glittering eyes. The sight of him, looking at you like you’re some kind of Goddess, makes your pussy tighten and your tiring hips stutter. You slip your pyjama top all the way off your arms and curl your fingers into his hair, meeting him in an open-mouthed kiss, through which you’re both just beaming.

You’ve never kissed him this much. When it all started out, you sort of had a rule against it, but now? Neither of you can stop. As he starts to fuck up into you, taking the reins and letting your burning thighs rest, he keeps your face steady with his hands and freely allows his lips to slide against yours. It’s not refined. It can’t be. Not with how hard and fast his movements quickly become, not with the onslaught of curses and moans and babbled praise coming from the both of you. One particularly sharp thrust makes you yelp out a squeak of his name and he just swallows it down, making a point to keep aiming for— and hitting— that same spot inside you. You’re a mess.

He could do this all night. When your orgasm bubbles inside you and he starts pinching at one of your nipples, sending you over the edge, he’s nowhere near finished. Even though your cunt massages at his length, throbbing and pulsing through your climax; even though your voice is so high by now that only dogs can hear you; even though you nearly collapse on top of him with almost all your weight in his lap, and he has to work twice as hard to keep this going, he barely slows. He definitely doesn’t stop.

“You can gimme one more, right sweetheart?” He asks, grunting into your neck. “Always feels so fucking good when you come.” You choke up an ‘mhm’, to which he responds by slipping a hand between your bodies and down to where you’re connected. His thumb presses against your clit again — not moving, just applying enough pressure to make you stutter when you say his name.

Your thighs are still twitching when you try to lift yourself a little, try to meet his movements as he chases his orgasm too. The “problem” with Chan is that his stamina is otherworldly. You couldn’t keep up if you wanted to.

“Relax,” he says, tensing his jaw, doing the opposite himself. “Fuck — lie down.”

It’s pretty cramped and hard to move, but you lift yourself off him and only slightly lament at the sudden emptiness between your legs. There isn’t time to get too upset, however: moments after you get comfortable on your back, Chan shoves his jeans the rest of the way down and stands with one knee planted on the seats, lifting one of your ankles up to rest it on his shoulder. He slips back inside you easily then, gripping around your calf to keep you both steady. From the word go, his pace is relentless. You scrabble around for something to hold onto but the entire car seems to melt away; you ball your hands into fists at your sides instead, your eyes squeezed tightly shut.

“Mm-mm. Look at me,” Chan hums, tightening his grip on your leg. “Wanna see those pretty eyes.”

You obey, opening your lids to look up at him while he pounds into you hard enough to make the car shake. Over, and over, and over, and over. Rougher. Faster. For how long? Who even knows. All you’re truly aware of is how good it feels. How the windows grow foggy with the steam of your laboured breaths. How his sweat mingles with your own.

When his fingers on the other hand get reacquainted with your clit, when he bites down on his bottom lip, when his thrusts start to get messier and more erratic and the veins in his arms start to bulge out, you know he’s getting close. He doesn’t need to tell you out loud. The smirk he wears speaks for itself.

“Where d’you want it, baby?” He asks you, pressing a kiss to the inside of your ankle.

“In— mmh, in-…side me—” you stammer, hips jolting as you near your second orgasm to match his first. “Please, Chan — want it all…”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah—”

Well, he must’ve been holding himself back something spectacular, because a few thrusts later you watch all of his muscles contract as he tips over the edge, and you go hurtling with him. It’s all so much. All your nerve endings feel like they’re on fire and your vision starts to blur at the edges; it’s not long before you have to close your eyes to shut one of your overworked senses out, completely. Your muscles are sore. Your throat hurts. Even your lungs ache.

God, he hasn’t gone that hard in so long, you don’t know what to do with yourself. You can barely speak — it’s going to take you a week to recover from this, minimum.

He stills deep inside you, feeling his cock throb with the last pumps of his release. Your leg slips off his shoulder and your foot lands down with a thud onto the car’s (thankfully clean) floor; he bends forward to kiss you, still breathing heavily against your lips. You’ve come over completely boneless and reaching up to thread your fingers into his hair again feels like running a marathon at sprint pace. You’d fall asleep right here, right now, if you could, but with sweat cooling rapidly against your skin, you know that’s probably not up there as one of your finest ideas.

“You really think getting involved with me was stupid?” Chan asks, nudging your nose with the tip of his own. He’s never been less serious than this in his entire life, which stops you feeling too bad when you lightly slap at his rock solid chest and try to push him off you.

“Yes,” you lie, attempting to reach to the ground for your pyjama shirt while he grips your chin and attacks you with tiny little pecks all over your face. “Stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

(Chan chuckles to himself and thinks that he’s quite happy to be the stupidest thing you’ve ever done, really. He can stay that way, as long as you promise never to stop.)

thank you so much for reading. i hope you enjoyed it - likes, feedback, comments, reblogs are all so appreciated.<3

#dino smut #lee chan smut #dino x reader #seventeen smut #svt smut #svt x reader #kpop smut #j writes.#*#this description is ass we're gonna pretend it isnt. ok THANKS bye <3

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bandgie · 6 months

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Hi! I ABSOLUTELY LOVED your Beast of a Man tarzan!smut. Seriously it was so engaging and you wrote him so well (HES SO HOT AGHH). He's such a hot character idk why others don't write about him, I'm starved for Tarzan fics...

Could you please make a part 2 to the smut? You have such a great/smutty idea going I would love to see you continue it!!

It would mean everything to me!

( ^◡^)

a/n: hi yes thank you so much and ofc! it's been so long since I've written smut on Tarzan so please bear with me! (fic anon is referring to here)

synopsis: You have successfully brought back the ape-man for research. Despite behaving like an animal, he's a lot more human in more ways than you originally thought.

warnings: MDNI 18+, recording during sex, oral (m!), 69ing, semi-public oral sex, cumming in mouth (m!&f!), rough throat fucking (f!rec), cum eating (m!&f!)

2.8k words

"Who the fuck is this?!"

Your colleagues screamed and ran upon seeing who, more like what, you brought back to camp. They hopped up on tables and held up papers as weapons. They eyed you both wearily, on the verge of tears as you stood just a few feet away.

"I think that's a bit extreme," you sigh.

The ape-man was beside you, clinging onto your leg like a child would do with a mother. He, too, was very wary around these strangers. You could hear him grunting and pulling at you as if keeping you from getting too close.

Cute yes, but this would mean it would take a lot of work to build trust in the entire group.

Slowly, the fellow researchers began to try and communicate with the man. Talking slowly and softly, just like you showed them to. All of you agreed that this being could be the missing link, the answer to the question anthropologists have tried to find for decades.

It took over a month for everyone to be comfortable around one another, but of course, another issue was raised.

"So does he just not have a name?" Professor Porter asked.

As of now, you all were just calling him 'the ape-man' or 'hey you' to get his attention. It never crossed your mind to give him an actual name.

"We're not gonna name that beast," Clayton butted his way into the conversation. Clayton, as big and strong as he was, seems the most afraid of your new friend. He's hostile, rude, and arrogant. Even if the ape-man cannot understand the words thrown at him, he can feel them.

The best thing to do in these situations was to ignore Clayton, he just loves the sound of his own voice.

"No," you turn your attention back to the professor. "Not that I know of at least. Should we come up with one?"

"Oh great," there's heavy sarcasm laced in Clayton's voice. "Here you are naming a dog you're not even gonna keep."

"With no due respect Clayton, please shut the fuck up," Terk, the youngest of you, speaks. Terk is small for his age, but he has built. A hairy man who's lively, talkative, and one of the natives that live here. He and the ape-man get along well, a little too well sometimes.

Clayton flips Terk the bird.

"A name for him would be nice, yes." The professor looks as though he's sweating from the tense atmosphere. "Do come up with one dear, I think the missing link would rather you do it."

It's no secret that the ape-man prefers you over the other researchers. He's constantly at your hip, following you like you have an invisible leash on him. Your colleagues, however, don't know how close you two actually are.

The conversation stays in your head for the rest of the day. A name. A name. Something everyone has yet is unbelievably difficult to come up with. Hundreds of possibilities run through your mind as you carry out your daily tasks. Even the ape-man, who's used to you ruffling his hair, grows confused about your behavior.

Nightfall comes with everyone in their tents and you still haven't come up with a name.

With a groan, you turn on your side to see the very person who's making you struggle already looking at you. His eyes are dark, but the candle in your tent lights up his features just enough. You reach out and brush a lock of hair out of his face, watching how he moves to try and get you to touch his skin.

You settle with resting the palm of your hand on his cheek, rubbing your thumb over it.

"A name," you tsk. You narrow your eyes and let your gaze travel over his body. He needs to look like his name, that's a must. "Hey, do you know what a name is?"

He doesn't answer.

"Something to call you. That's a name. Do you have one?"

He stares at you.

Well, this is going to be harder than you thought.

Pursing your lips, you say the first name that comes to mind, "Edward?"

He reacts to that. His calm expression turns into a scowl, bushy eyebrows coming together. You quietly laugh and shake your head, "Not that one okay."

"Tony?"

He frowns.

"Taren?"

He pouts.

"Okay, okay. I think I got it...Garrett."

The ape-man groans, mimicking the behavior he's seen you do hundreds of times. It shocks you to see him act so human, so you. It's equally adorable as it is terrifying.

He's gotten closer to you, a breath away. The proximity used to freak you out, but you've learned it’s how he shows his affection. His trust.

The ape-man is waiting for you to say a word he likes, a sound that comes off your tongue magically. Judging from your facial expression and earlier absent behavior, this is an important task for you.

You want the name to be strong, versatile, and not easily replaceable. The being you've found is one-of-a-kind, it's only fair his name is as well. You play with a few letters in your head, bouncing them in your mind until you think of one that suits him.

"What about Tarzan then? Do you like that one?"

His pupils dilate, watching your beautiful lips pronounce the word. His word.

"Yes."

You gasp, sitting up abruptly. Your sudden movements make him panic as he sits up with you. He scans the tent to find an intruder while you sit there stunned.

He spoke. The ape-man no! Tarzan just spoke to you. He understood language and used it, even if it was just a mere word. A one-syllable answer that has shaken you to your core.

"Oh my god. You just, Tarzan you just spoke. Holy shit, say it again. I need to capture this on video." You ruffle through your bag looking for your camera.

Tarzan stops searching the tent and looks back at you looking as confused as ever. Like he didn't just display human speech in a mere month.

Quickly, you pull out the camera and hit record, aiming the lens at Tarzan's hard, yet beautiful features.

"Repeat what you just said," you look at him through the monitor. Instead of complying, Tarzan stares blankly into the lens. "Do you like the name Tarzan?" You press.

No answer, his eyes flick from the red light to your eyes.

"Come on! Just tell me whether or not you like the name." You're starting to grow impatient. At this point, you're convinced he's just being an ass.

Finally, he adjusts his seating position. Tarzan glances down at his crotch then back up to you, then back to his crotch. You follow his gaze, trying to understand what he's trying to say. Then it clicks.

Compensation. If you want him to do you a favor, you have to do him one as well.

"Are you being serious?" You sigh at him. Tarzan gives a faint nod to you. Even if he can't do so, you swear you see him smirk. Asshole. Setting the camera down, you angle it towards the two of you. Might as well have fun with it.

You crawl your way towards him, parting his thighs slightly before giving him a playful glare, "You're such a man sometimes."

Unlike before, Tarzan wears cargo shorts rather than a mere piece of clothes from last time. Professor Porter made it clear that if he was to hang amongst you all, clothes were necessary.

They suited him nicely, even now. The way the material hugs his toned thighs, how his cock bulges through the shorts even when he isn’t hard. You couldn't help but run your hands along his muscular legs, finding his crotch.

He groaned as you palmed him, straining to not thrust his hips up. Tarzan learned to be patient with you, especially in the presence of others. Most animals didn't care whether they mated alone or in their pack. Even if Tarzan was raised by those animals, the thought of others hearing the sounds you make for him is repulsive.

Instead, he has to settle for brushing your hair from your face as you undo his buttons. Delicate fingers unzipping the seam until his half-hard cock sprouts in your face.

It doesn't matter how many times you've seen his dick, it makes your pussy quiver every time. All you can think about is how perfectly it stretches you, how the tip slides against your cunt deliciously. Your mouth salivates at the memory, and you let your spit drool off your tongue to land on his cock.

Tarzan loves the sigh. A pink tongue just hovering over his length. He also remembers the feeling of your hot mouth on him. The way your lips slowly come closer to the crown of his head, how your breath wafts over him. It feels euphoric when you finally make contact with him, mouth enclosing his flushed head.

It's so warm in your mouth, smooth as you lightly suck on him. The hand on your head slightly grips your hair, a sign that he likes the slow pace you've set. You hum around his cock, taking him a little deeper as you widen your jaw.

One of your hands makes way to grip the base, pulling the skin upwards in a stroking motion.

This makes his hips jerk, gagging you for just a split second. Your wide eyes look up at him, small tears peeking at the corners. Tarzan gives an apologetic look, but the sight of your teary eyes and pretty lips around his cock makes him fuck up toward you again.

You pull away from him, earning a whine as Tarzan throws his head back dramatically.

Maybe he thinks you're going to stop as punishment, but it's quite the opposite. Your cunt is sopping from tasting him, even if it was for a brief moment. Even if you have a task at hand, and your camera is still recording for 'research,' you have your own needs to take care of.

Tarzan is none the wiser as you put a hand on his bare chest and lay him down. He eyes you curiously but lets you push him all the way down before hopping on top. His eyes widen as he's faced with your clothed cunt. Underwear the same color as your tongue that holds the strongest smell of you.

He doesn't need any directions as he dives his nose into you. Tarzan is obsessed with your natural smell. His nose immediately grows damp from your wetness, his tongue poking out to lick the juices that leak out.

Softly moaning, you take a hold of his cock once more. You pump it a few times before taking it into your mouth. It's surprising to see that he's not humping in your mouth like normal, but he's so distracted with your pussy that he can't seem to bother noticing his own pleasure.

It's hard to focus on his hard length as his teeth tear off your panties. You gasp when you hear the fabric split, but it turns into a whine when his tongue finally makes contact with your bare cunt.

Tarzan has to grip your hips to keep you still. As much as he would love for you to grind on his face, he needs to have his meal first. His tongue runs over your folds, finding that little bud you love so much to be touched.

He sucks on it and pulls, stretching your clit. Your legs shake and you have to pull away from his cock to catch your breath. Lazy hands stroke his hard-on as you look back. You clench at the sight of his unruly hair peeking above your ass, the sounds his mouth makes as he laps at you.

Turning back to your literal task at hand, you find the energy to take his cock once more. You unhinge your jaw and exhale, taking Tarzan deeper and deeper until your eyes roll back. You hollow your cheeks and suck, moving your head back up until just the tip remains in your mouth, and go all the way back down.

Now Tarzan can feel the bliss of your mouth on him. He moans into your pussy and slightly jerks his hips up, making you gag around him once more.

Feeling you work so hard makes him want to reciprocate. He shakes his head left and right to try and bury himself deeper. He uses his grip to force you further onto his face. Tarzan's tongue finds the squeezing entrance that he's breached so many times. He digs his tongue into you, finally getting a taste of you from the source.

He's guiding your hips so you could drag your pussy against him how you like. Tarzan can feel your hips trying to pull away from him as the feeling of his tongue has gotten too much. And it has.

You're trying to distract yourself by deepthroating him, but it's no use. All you can feel is his experienced mouth, how he remembers every detail he knows you like. You can feel your orgasm approaching, and how it builds in your stomach rapidly.

Tarzan feels your legs shake. Your thighs trembling and giving out, full lower body weight on his face. He can taste how the wetness has changed, thicker and tart. Tarzan knows this taste like the back of his hand. You're going to cum, give him that white cream he loves licking out of you.

You've completely stopped paying attention to his dick. A part of you should feel bad for neglecting him, but you can't seem to care as Tarzan's tongue fucks you. Instead, you find yourself humping his face, his mouth following as you approach your high.

You squeal as you come, clamping a hand over your mouth as you finish. Warm gushes out of you, body quivering as the eager man under you happily drinks it all. Tarzan gulps and slurps until he's beginning dripping from the corners of his mouth.

He takes and takes until you're the one having to tell him no more, that you can't handle another orgasm.

Tarzan hears the desperation in your voice, the way you plead. It takes strength for him to pull away from your pussy, a soft growl emitting from his chest.

Then his thighs wrap around your head, securing you in front of his cock. You have no time to question him as you involuntarily take his cock into your mouth.

There's so much pre-cum dripping from the slit that all you can taste is its saltiness. He's throbbing, fucking his hips into your mouth as he holds you still with his legs.

All you can do is take it. Lips wrapping around his girth as he desperately slides his dick in and out. You gag and silently plead for Tarzan to be gentler, but he's having none of it. Your hands warp around his thighs to steady yourself, your head bobbing uncontrollably to match his movements.

Tarzan twitches in your mouth once, stilling his hips deep into your throat. Tears immediately prick your eyes and fall down your face, and you swear your vision goes black for a fraction of a second before he pulls out. You get the chance to gasp for air as he lines up his cock to your lips again and shoves it back in.

You think you might pass out. You're at the mercy of Tarzan, and he's still unable to see how much stronger he is than the average man. Your mouth is nothing but a fleshlight to him as he makes you choke around him. It makes you feel like a toy, a warm hole for him to fuck his seed into.

And you wouldn't have it any other way.

The familiar twitch in his cock occurs again. Once, twice, then three times before he unloads in your mouth. Hot spurts of his cum find themselves in your throat, forcing you to gulp it down.

Tarzan's hips slow, letting his cock drag against your lips before he finally pulls out. You cough and pant as his orgasm drips from your tongue.

His thighs release you and you promptly plop down on them. You feel his hands rub soothingly over the curve of your ass, up and down your thighs. And an extra apology, Tarzan presses a kiss to your throbbing pussy. You chuckle and kiss his thigh back before sitting up, hoping off his face.

You have to crawl to grab your camera, breathing a sigh of relief to see the red light still shining. You aim the lens at his face as he too sits up. You can see the arousal on his face from eating you out, his swollen lips, and messy hair.

"So," you start. "Tell me, Tarzan, did you like that?"

Tarzan's lips quirk into what you think is a smile before he looks at you directly through the camera.

"Yes."

a/n: holy fuck I dont think y'all know how hard this was. I kinda went all out for the first one so the second one was hard as hell to match lmaooo. I physically and mentally can't do a third installment. this is the final one sowwy also I added some characters from the film! hopefully you caught that, I made Terk human, Tarzan needed a friend even if it's a fanfic

#smut #tarzan x reader #tarzan smut #tarzan 1999 #tarzan and his mate #tarzan #beast #jungle smut #tarzan of the apes #tarzan au #tarzan fanfic #holy fuck what do I tag??#professor porter

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breathlesswinds · 1 month

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(Devlog) What We Learned Making A Trans Dating Game

Hello, Amelia here, the writer for Breathless Winds. It's been 250,000+ words, countless revisions, and three years since this game entered development, and I wanted to talk about what I've learned leading up to release.

The concept for Breathless Winds was actually sort of a joke between friends. I was talking with Doris about how there should be a dating game where you play as a trans woman and your dating options revolve around certain ‘tropes’ we’d both seen in trans fiction-- the totally accepting cishet guy who falls in love with the trans heroine before she even knows she’s a woman, the cool trans woman who the heroine doesn’t know if she wants to date or wants to be, and so on.

Doris wound up suggesting we make this game ourselves. We both like visual novels and want to tell LGBT stories. Still half-jokingly and half-seriously, we started fleshing out what the romance options would be and coming up with a setting-- and soon, we were fully committed to making this game real.

I was a fan of visual novels but had only ever written prose. I knew which visual novels I liked and which scenes stood out, but I didn’t know why they did or how to make my own.

I read some great advice from visual novel developers, but a good amount of my knowledge came from just working on Breathless Winds. As our first project, this game has grown a lot with us and we’ve learned a lot while making it.

Learning How to Write Visual Novels

A bad habit I had to break out of was only using the ‘novel’ part of the game and not the ‘visual’ part. I would sometimes write “He smiled” or lines like that, and Doris informed me that we can convey this much more simply with a sprite change.

It sounds obvious in retrospect, but lines like that are often pretty invisible when you’re reading a non-visual novel. These lines change the sprite of the character inside your head (if that makes sense, haha). I realized that I’m so used to them being ‘invisible’ that I didn’t notice their absence in visual novels I liked, so I would accidentally include them while writing.

I was also writing these routes in a word processor, so I didn’t have the visual portion to reference, myself. I wound up making a lot of ‘tone’ notes like, “Lantana should be smug here” so that the meaning would carry when revising and implementing these into Ren’py.

So, while visual novels share a lot with prose, they’re an entirely different medium. On the subject of representing things visually, I’ve struggled trying to figure out how much can be visually represented and how much should be written.

Every asset in the game has to be drawn by Doris, so if I want the characters to go to a new location for a scene, I have to keep in mind that’s another background that Doris has to draw. If I want a new character to show up, that’s another sprite she has to draw. I don’t want to overload her, but if I’m trying to avoid this entirely, characters sometimes wind up standing in one room talking for ages without anything significant changing on-screen.

I’ve learned that it’s recommended for something to almost always be changing on-screen, though, so sometimes I just have to ask Doris to make a new asset for a certain scene. I still try to stick to locations/characters that already exist more often than not.

Every single thing in a visual novel is deliberate. Another thing I’ve had to learn that I never even considered before is how to write each line so it fits in the text box. It sounds obvious, but when I’m playing a visual novel, I don’t usually think about how each line has to be carefully constructed so it doesn’t need to be split up into two or more text boxes. In my mind, if a visual novel is well-created, there’s not much that breaks a reader’s immersion.

Planning & Outlining

The previous section might sound really weird to some people, so let me elaborate. I’m a lifelong ‘write by the seat of your pants’-er, so the biggest trial-and-error of creating Breathless Winds for me was planning out the game.

Initially, I created outlines for each of the four routes, and we agreed ahead of time on which CGs each route would have. That way, Doris could draw the necessary backgrounds and CGs while I was in the long process of drafting this game. My original outlines weren’t great. I know a lot of people have different experiences with writing, but for me personally, a story is always shaping itself in my mind. When I started making the outlines for Breathless Winds, I knew the concepts we wanted to convey, but I didn’t know what each route (and the game as a whole) was really about yet. This might sound weird and unprofessional, but sometimes, I don’t know what a story is about until I finish the first draft.

So while I was writing, I would look at my outlines and I would think, “this doesn’t actually make sense, he wouldn’t say that” or “this plot point would work better if moved to this other section” or “there’s a plot hole here I didn’t notice”. The story wound up changing a lot in this way as I learned what it’s really ‘about’.

And even after I finished the first draft, I’d get feedback from Doris and/or my editor and they would suggest fixes to problems that even I hadn’t noticed, and then I would revise the route some more, and later on I’d come back and need to redo part of the route to comply with something I wrote in a later route-- I haven’t really felt ‘finished’ with Breathless Winds at any point, and I think I’ll still feel this way after the game is released.

This means that sometimes, a background was created but would go unused because there was no space for the scene that would use it, or we’d need a new CG last-minute, or so on.

When I’m figuring things out as I go while writing a non-VN, the only person that I can adversely affect is my own self… so I’m eternally grateful for all of Doris’s patience with me on this matter. I think Breathless Winds has come out a much better game for all the re-plotting and revision.

I redid the outlines several times as I went. I think I’ve understood how to create outlines that personally work for me-- ‘living’ outlines that hit all the main points, but leave wiggle room for moments when a character does something unexpected, work the best for me.

Scope Creep

So, originally, each route was meant to be 40,000 words. “With four routes, that’s only 160,000 words!” I thought. “And some of my favorite visual novels are about that long, so I can write that much, too!” ← clueless

This is the most infamous mistake that new creators make, and I walked right into it. I should have known better since I’ve bitten off more than I can chew with past non-VN writing projects before, but I was starry-eyed and didn’t realize how much work it is to make a VN. Some of those favorite visual novels I referenced were made by much larger teams, writers whose full-time job was writing (I wrote all of these routes on the side while working at a day job).

If I could have done it again, I would have asked Doris to start out with a really short VN. But, I don’t regret making Breathless Winds at all. It’s brought Doris and I a lot closer, for one. Every time I thought I wanted to give up on this, Doris would motivate me to continue. Without the two of us both and our strong friendship, Breathless Winds wouldn’t exist, and I think that’s beautiful.

No matter what, we’re going to see it through to the end. (I hope people like it, though…)

Anyway, here I am talking about how much 40,000 words is. Each route now is about 60k to 70k words. The problem with having evolving outlines is that they can often evolve into double their original size.

We came up with the idea of the poachers really early in development, and then not addressing the poachers felt like a failing, but by that point it was too late to remove the poachers entirely… and so the game wound up a lot longer dealing with the poachers.

I think that if we had an editor sooner on in the game’s development, then we might have had someone to tell us, “do you really need all of this in the game? Does this plot point really need to be there? Will you be able to write all of this in a reasonable amount of time?”, haha. But Doris and I were really excited about the possibilities of this game when we started creating it, and without anyone to reel us back in, we wound up coming up with more and more things we wanted to put in the game.

Did you know there was going to be an island full of talking rats who say things like “the big cheese” and stuff all the time in Breathless Winds? Yeah.

The Core Design Philosophy of Breathless Winds

So, for anyone who’s read this far but doesn’t know yet-- the premise of Breathless Winds is that you play as a trans woman who doesn’t know she’s trans yet, and she finds love with one of four love interests as she discovers her gender identity.

In real life, it can be a lot messier for a person to date when discovering their gender identity. To put it briefly and mildly, a trans person’s life and sense of personal identity can rapidly change during a gender crisis and the early stages of transition.

However, we wanted to make this game a ‘wish-fulfillment’ type story-- a trans fantasy about acceptance, community, and love. During a gender crisis, it can be easy to feel as if one has lost touch with themselves and become isolated from others. A sincere wish shared by many trans people is to be accepted, loved, and even celebrated as their true gender, not just tolerated.

Since many trans people don’t get love and acceptance in real life, especially with the ongoing transphobic moral panic, we wanted to create a game that would bring this feeling of trans joy and celebration to trans audiences.

We also hope that cis players will still enjoy the story and characters, and maybe come away from the game with a new understanding about being transgender and other aspects of LGBT identity (although we never intended this game to be ‘educational’).

Making Characters that Celebrate Trans Identity

Although we went through several revisions, the core identities of each character stayed the same since the game was first ‘jokingly’ pitched. In another post, I discussed how each character is themed around a change in seasons. (I also wound up theming them around the four humors when I was initially concepting them-- I really wanted to avoid too much ‘overlap’ in the LI’s personalities, haha).

Ultimately, characters are created to serve a role. The LIs in Breathless Winds were designed to be love interests, of course-- characters who would appeal to the hypothetical trans femme audience. As mentioned earlier, we modeled them after other trans fiction tropes because these types of characters have a certain tried-and-true appeal, but this left plenty of flexibility to put our own spin on it.

A trans woman being loved as a woman by a cishet guy can feel like a high form of ‘passing’, ‘fitting in’ to the female gender role, and being validated by his orientation. He only likes women, and he likes you, so you’re undoubtedly a woman. As a cishet guy, he represents a sort of acceptance into a societal norm that trans women can desire to live to. (Lantana, as a cis lesbian, represents the sapphic counterpoint to this-- although there is of course a big gap between the ‘normalcy’ of a cishet man and a cis lesbian woman, and I don’t mean to say those two are equivalent.)

But not all trans women want to live to that (cis) societal norm. Rue and Valerian, as a trans woman and a trans man respectively, are the t4t options.

Rue’s route represents that trans/sapphic ‘envy’ (“do I want her or do I want to be her?”) as well as finding power in community aside from what society considers ‘normal’. We’ve always been pretty clear about what we wanted to do with Rue’s route.

We went back and forth a lot more on Valerian’s route. Initially, we were unsure if he should be trans. He and Rue are the two less-friendly love interests (at least initially), so I was afraid it would come across that t4t is a more hostile option, which is not true at all. But it also felt like a mistake to not have a trans man in the game-- but making Gallardia trans would have required a big overhaul of what we had in mind for him and his route. (Although, childhood friends t4t is a really good idea...)

Beyond that, Valerian takes a villainous role in any route that isn't his own. We were worried that it would be wrong to have a trans antagonist who represents unjust power. However, Breathless Winds is a queer game with other positive trans characters, and we've always approached Valerian as a hot anti-villain man that you can't help but like.

In the end, Valerian’s route is about breaking generational cycles and what it is that makes you a man, and I also managed to sneak in a scene where they dance at a ball in the royal palace, so in the end I think it all worked out great.

Wish Fulfillment and Catharsis

Doris and I both agreed that we wouldn’t depict on-screen transphobia in Breathless Winds. Poppy worries about not being accepted, but fear of acceptance can come with any change in identity. Rue was rejected by her family for being trans, but this doesn’t take place ‘on screen’ in the game. There exist certain metaphorical parallels for transness and transphobia, but every route has a happy ending.

Following up on this-- it can be difficult to write about discovery of gender identity without writing about transphobia, considering how many trans people suffer from internalized transphobia during their period of repression.

Sometimes, repressed/closeted transgender people ‘hyper-perform’ their assigned gender as a form of denial. A trans woman might grow out a beard and join a gym, while a trans man might become very interested in makeup and feminine clothing.

In Breathless Winds, Poppy often struggles with ‘strength’ and what it means to be a man. In several routes, she tries to prove her strength under the assumption that being stronger would make her happy. Afraid the world would reject her if she became who she really is, she preemptively rejects herself.

Not every trans person suffers from prolonged denial, internalized transphobia, or even gender dysphoria. I don’t think it’s impossible to tell a purely-positive story about trans joy.

While Poppy never gets rejected for being trans, faces transphobia, gets called a slur, etc, she faces both internal and external (metaphorical) obstacles to realizing and accepting her identity.

Gallardia represents a societal norm that Poppy can’t live up to herself as a man.

Lantana suffers from certain aspects of her identity as a woman, which makes Poppy feel guilt for wanting to be a girl.

Rue is isolated from town at the start of her route, a ‘punishment’ for breaking this societal norm.

Valerian has to hyper-conform to his masculine gender role at first in toxic ways before finding acceptance from within and from his loved ones.

These struggles are real to a lot of people, but instead of pretending they don’t exist, I hoped to tell a story about catharsis. Poppy is able to live up to her truth as a woman and finds love with Gallardia, Poppy and Lantana redefine what being a woman should and does mean to them, Rue and Poppy find community in others who don’t fit the norm, Poppy and Valerian stop seeking gender validation from a society that was never made to serve them.

Although these powerful forces of oppression exist, loving yourself as a trans person- and loving those around you, protecting the natural world, and standing up for what you believe in- can save the day. That’s the kind of story we wanted to tell.

Wrap-up

There’s a lot more I could write, but this has already gotten really long (sorry!) so I’ll wrap it up here.

Learning how to write a visual novel in terms of technical skill (how to depict events on-screen, how long each line should be) as well as in terms of writing skill (how to outline the game, how to plan visual assets) has been a massive undertaking for me.

Writing Breathless Winds has been a big challenge but also deeply rewarding, and all of your support has made the experience even more wonderful. Thank you for reading and thank you for supporting the game!

#visual novel #otome #dating sim #amare #trans #lgbt #breathless winds

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hotteoki · 11 days

Text

meet uglys with stray kids (hyung line)

pairing: skz hyung line x reader (no prns used)

genre: fluff, strangers to lovers, humour

cw: language, throwing up/sickness, mentions of alcohol

wc: 1.9k

notes: it's been way too long since i've written stray kids fics... this was originally going to be arguments with skz maknae line but it got too difficult to write so here's a new fic! hopefully i can get maknae line out by 18th! p.s. this wasn't proofread at all so i'm sorry if it's ridden with mistakes...

chan (방찬) – greeting the new neighbour but turns out he slept at 5 last night

you had heard from jeongin, who lives across the street, that you’re getting a new neighbour

he had texted you about it mid conversation when telling you how to handle his house while he’s gone for his week-long vacation

truth was you hadn’t even considered greeting your soon-to-be neighbour

one, what if they hated you and you would have to be stuck with them for ages?

the only reason you’re even friends with jeongin is because he went around the neighbourhood holding up a cat asking if anyone lost it

(turns out it was a flea ridden stray but you both took it to the vet nevertheless)

two, you were quite comfortable laying in your bed

but ten more annoying texts from jeongin saying you should greet them because he did was enough to get you to make your way to their house

knocking on the door, you feel your palms get sweaty

you’re already regretting this

after one or two minutes of standing outside, you internally yell at them for making you look like an idiot

you’re about to leave until the door opens

revealing a man in his mid to late-twenties

wearing nothing but a tank top and sweats

with very prominent biceps

that are being put on display right now

you’ve probably been ogling at the man for a while now

shaking your head a little, you smile warmly at him

“hi, i’m your neighbou-”

“what time is it now?”

you blink a few times

you had just been interrupted by this hot neighbour, and his attitude was a little too sour for your liking

you aren’t sure which to address first

so it ends up with you going–

“huh?”

“what time is it now?”

he enunciates

“uhh…”

you pull out your phone

“9:20am”

“right. 9:20am and you’re already banging on my door”

you’re thrown so off guard

“i’m sorry, what?”

to be honest, you’re getting fed up with his condescending tone

“stores are up and running and kids are playing in the park playgrounds, maybe you’re the problem here”

you cross your arms, cause who does this man think he is?

this time it’s his turn to shake his head

“fuck- i mean- i’m sorry, i just- i slept at like 6 last night- or morning, and i just-”

he rubs his face

“i’m sorry”

you smile, a little strained

“it’s fine. i’ll see you around.”

even after him apologising you’re feeling slightly petty

so you turn around and begin to make your way home

chan feels horrible

except he’s running on like 3 hours on sleep so he honestly can’t process anything

so in his last efforts he grabs your arm gently

“wait, i’m sorry. c-can we- can i make it up to you over lunch tomorrow? you can show me around as well”

you contemplate

he did seem genuine enough

so you nod, smiling

“that sounds nice, what’s your name again?”

“i’m chan, what’s yours?”

and after you give it to him, he repeats it outloud, testing it out

the giddy feeling in your chest rises unwillingly

and maybe that lunch turns into a date, and maybe that date has a follow up, and maybe that follow up turns into a relationship

and maybe jeongin spends the rest of his life saying “i told you so”

but that’s a problem for future you to handle

minho (민호) – vomiting on him while drunk

you were initially against following jisung into the club

but he insisted you need to live life, and that it’s a saturday and you need to, quote unquote

“PARTAYYYYYYY”

to be fair, exams just ended and you have been spending the last couple of months holed in your room studying

so you agreed

he promised you he would look after you

don’t trust a drunk jisung

half an hour in and you’re absolutely wasted

you can’t remember when you stumbled into the toilets

but you’re hitting your fist on the door, yelling for whoever was inside to:

“STOP SHITTING FOR TWO SECONDS I NEED TO PUKE”

probably not the best way to tell someone to hurry up

but fortunately for you, the door opened

but not so fortunately for you, you vomit all over the guy

whose first reaction was

“what the actual fuck?!”

in his defence sober you would probably have reacted the same way

but again

you’re wasted

so you yell back at him

“what the actual fuck back to you!”

you push him aside and continue vomiting into the toilet bowl

minho’s conflicted

does he help you? even though you puked all over him, he still feels bad that you’re clearly trying to vomit but aren’t steady enough to support yourself

so he sighs, cursing under his breath

he hastily wipes clean his shoes and squats down to hold you by your shoulders so you’re facing the toilet bowl and not the floor

you would’ve thanked him if you aren’t hurling your guts out right now

after what feels like hours, you’re finally done

and minho washes his hands quickly, ready to leave

except you tug weakly on his pants

“m’sorr…”

he blinks, squatting down to hear you better

you clear your throat, a bit more sober now that the alcohol is out of your system

“m’sorry. i’ll- i’ll pay for the- the- the cleaning”

minho brushes the sweaty strands of hair from your face

“yeah you better”

his tone is soft, though

like he’s careful not to upset you

cause you look like you’re about to burst into tears

you smile weakly

“you’re soooo hot”

okay maybe you aren’t fully sober yet

he’s thrown off guard

“um… thanks?”

you giggle drunkenly

“you probably get tha’ a loooot”

he tilts his head, not sure how to respond

“i… guess?”

you shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts

“ca’ i get your n’mber?”

it takes him a few seconds to understand what you’re trying to say

which is a little awkward because he’s essentially just staring at you

you clear your throat to break the silence

“t’ like… pay for your clean’ng”

he nods, finally understanding

“yeah, sure”

and that’s how you got your future boyfriend’s number

he brings it up every now and then just to see you get embarrassed

which he thinks is absolutely adorable :(

changbin (창빈) – he left the tap on and water leaked into your apartment ceiling

you’re minding your own business

flicking through different films to decide what to watch

well, you were

until a drop of water drips on your tv

at first you thought you were hallucinating

except another water drop falls on it

so you look up at the ceiling

because you’re confused as hell??

you notice a huge splotch of water

and it won’t stop dripping

you’re about to scream

this is a brand new tv and they do not come cheap

so you calculate which apartment was upstairs

and sprint up

you’re surprised the elevator button didn’t break from how hard you’re pressing the button

you run to the perpetrator’s door, knocking on it rapidly

you’re about to yell for them to open their door until you feel a timid tap on your shoulder behind you

swinging around, becoming face to face with a very attractive, very muscular, but very scared looking man

“c-can i help you?”

you normally would’ve been nicer to strangers, except this man is literally breaking your tv

“you have a water leak and it’s breaking my tv!!!!!”

he begins to panic

“i’m so sorry!! i must’ve left the tap on or something i-”

he’s rambling while he unlocks his door

you peek over his shoulder when he opens the door

huh

there’s… no water at all?

he seems confused too

but then he walks over to his bathroom, opening the door

aaaaand there it is

a pool of water immediately spills out, creating a puddle around him

he quickly turns off the overflowing tap, smacking himself in the forehead with his palm

“god… i’m so, so, so sorry… if your tv’s broken i’ll… i’ll pay for a new one”

he rubs his eyes, looking at you apologetically

“i’m really sorry for this whole mess”

you stare at him expressionlessly

“i’ll check to see if it’s broken… uh… i’ll text you if it is, or something”

you’re thinking of what to do

you’re definitely not getting distracted by the sight of this attractive man in a tight-fitting black tee that compliments his torso nicely

he nods, “yeah i’ll uh, i’ll give you my number so you can… yeah, here”

he’s holding out his contact page

you copy down his number on your phone

smiling awkwardly, you turn around and wave goodbye

but of course, your messages with him won’t end with a “tv’s not broken! :)”

hyunjin (현진) – my dog hates you so i hate you too

it’s a regular friday afternoon

you clutch your dog’s leash in your hand, bopping your head to the beat of the music blasting in your earphones

you didn’t even notice her happily running over to another dog

until you take your phone out to switch to another song

you look up momentarily and did a double take

cause why on earth is a tiny chihuahua full on ATTACKING your dog

she never stood a chance

she runs back to you and hide behind your legs

you take out your earphones to tell the chihuahua’s owner off

except he looks even more terrified than you

you stare at him, waiting for him to do something

he seems to snap out of it and pulls his chihuahua away, leaning down to give him a snack for him to calm down

you give your own dog a few pets to soothe her before looking back at the chihuahua’s owner

damn

you didn’t get a proper look at him before

but now that you have

damn

he’s hot

but after seeing how scared your dog is

you can’t help but get a little annoyed at him

you might have been giving him the stink eye subconsciously because he begins to apologise profusely

“i’m sorry, he’s not very fond of people… or other dogs… or me… he’s not very fond of anything in general, if i’m honest”

he’s stumbling over his words

and even though you’re still miffed

you can’t help but feel a little bad for judging him

“yeah, that’s fair enough”

there’s an awkward silence that you’re pretty sure your dog can sense too because she starts whining

so you give him one more smile

“well, see you around”

hyunjin decides he’s not going to fumble the bag

because you’re seriously the prettiest person he’s ever seen in his life

“wait! what’s your name? we could… i don’t know, get some coffee some time?”

he wants kkami to bite his mouth off

he doesn’t even know what he’s saying anymore

you purse your lips

his dog ≠ him you suppose

so you nod and give him your name

he grins at that

“i’m hyunjin”

networks: @kflixnet k-labels kbookshelf @neverendingdreams-net @straykidsland @k-films pirateeznet

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joonsmagicshop · 7 months

Text

Friend or Fuck

Summary: A drunken night leads to a good morning.

Pairing: Namjoon/Reader. Jungkook and reader are friends, All the boys are mentioned.

Word Count: 8k

Rating: M/18+ because smut

Tags: Drinking, mentions of throwing up, drunk talk, smut, fingering, dirty talk, someone is a cock blocker, cum eating, Namjoon's back

Author Note: um hi! It has been a while since I've written fanfiction but this idea would not leave me alone so here we are! If you enjoy let me know and there mayyyy be a part two

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The party was in full swing by the time Jungkook had pulled up to Jimin's house in his sleek black car. Of course, Jimin seemed to invite the whole neighborhood so Jungkook circled around the subdivision until he found a parking spot two blocks down from the giant house and loud music.

You let out a small sigh as Jungkook put the car into park and flipped his visor down to check his hair one more time, his tongue darting out to lick at his lip ring, something he did when he was excited...or nervous.

You looked out the window and wrapped your arms around yourself staring out into the dark October night. You certainly didn't dress to walk this many blocks, you instantly regretted the choice of a little black dress and heels.

“Y/N no getting cold feet now, you promised.” Your friend reminded you as he flipped the visor up and stared you down, his dark eyes gleaming in the glow of the overhead street lights and sending a small reassuring smile your way. He knew you didn't really want to go to this party but you had promised you'd go to the next one months ago and regretted it when Jungkook reminded you of that promise a couple nights prior.

The air was bitingly cold and Jungkook shucked off his leather jacket to give to you. You wrapped it around your body as you made your way up the street inhaling his spicy cologne.

“Come on it's going to be fun! We haven't been to a party in ages!” He said trying to hype you up as you rolled your eyes. He seemed to be skipping down the street in excitement and you shook your head.

“What do you mean we? Kook, you were partying with the guys last weekend. I would know, I got the call from Jin at one in the morning.” You teased with a smile as Jungkook flashed you an embarrassed grin

“Okay smarty pants well you haven't been to a party in a while, I miss hanging with you at these things and I know the boys miss you too.” He replied with a shy smile, shoving his hands in his pockets to ward off the cold.

Before you can argue he speaks again.

“You have been so stressed with work and life...I just want you to have a fun night that's all.”

You smiled. Jungkook was your best friend and knew you better than most people. Sure a party was not your way to unwind and relax but it would be nice to see everyone again, and it did feel nice to dress up. Your dress had been sitting in your closet for far too long without being worn, and even though you weren't wearing the most comfortable heels you did feel beautiful.

“Will I even see you with all your fan girls around?” You tease bumping into him playfully on the sidewalk as Jungkook blushes and shakes his head, bangs falling into his eyes.

Without fail, at almost every party a group of girls take him away from you. Jungkook is too polite to say no and usually will shake them off within an hour or so, sometimes he's less successful and you won't see him for most of the night.

“You know Taehyung is going to be there” He teases back as you roll your eyes.

“Kook.” You warn.

“Come on!”

“No. We aren't having this conversation.”

“He's a good guy”

“I know.”

“And it's been what? Two years.”

“Kook...drop it.”

“And we both heard the stories about him. His fingers. His mouth.”

“Jungkook!” You exclaim as you cover your face with your hands in embarrassment as he chuckles beside you. You reach out to smack his arm which only makes him laugh harder.

“Okay okay, so maybe not Taehyung but it has been two years. You can date whenever you are ready I just want you to be happy that's all! A party full of people, possibly single people. Might be good for you, you know?”

You pondered over his words as Jimin's house came into view.

“I am happy Jungkook. I have a good job and good friends. I'm all good. Super good.” You answer trying to avoid his gaze.

This wasn't the time or place for this conversation. Sure you were a good enough liar, telling everyone that you were too busy focusing on yourself and your job to date. Sure, most of the time you did love being single but there were those times when you were in a crowd or around coupled-up people and you realized how alone you truly were. It had been two years since you dated someone since you were intimate with someone. It was a messy breakup and you convinced yourself you were better off single.

Jungkook steps in front of you and lightly grabs your arms stopping you in your tracks.

“There were too many goods in that sentence for me to believe you. I'm going to drop it because we don't need sad faces before we go to this party I want you to have fun. Promise me you will have some fun tonight. Please.” He says staring you down.

You nod.

“And if you fuck someone please wear protection I'm not ready to be an honorary uncle.”

You smack his arm again as you both walk up the driveway and can already hear the music thumping from inside.

You hand him back his jacket at the door as he knocks and Jimin opens it with a big grin and open arms.

Your jaw drops as you take in Jimin's house. The entrance is huge with high ceilings and a large staircase leading upstairs. People are everywhere and the music is so loud you can feel the vibrations throughout your body

“Nice huh?” Jimin teases as a couple of girls come up, not even noticing you as they hug Jungkook and practically drag him away. He shoots you an apologetic look over his shoulder as he is dragged into the crowd and within an instant disappears among all the people.

You grit your teeth. Not only did you not want to go to this party you now lost Jungkook for who knows how long. Luckily Jimin was still hanging by your side.

“New record I think? What was that like three seconds?” You ask Jimin as he throws back his head and laughs.

He loops an arm around you and gives you the house tour. He shows you the massive kitchen where it seems like most of the alcohol is located, spread out on the kitchen table and counters. People are mulling about and a giant stack of red solo cups sits right in the center of the table which looks sticky with spilled drinks.

Jimin shows you the dining room and the living room where Jungkook is already seated on a squishy-looking couch surrounded by some girls who seem to look at him like he hung the stars. There are two girls on each side of him and one at his feet. You chuckle as he makes eye contact with you and mouths a “sorry” You just shake your head and wave him off. You knew this would happen away.

Jimin leads you to a corner where Jungkook's friends are hanging out. You knew them all fairly well and greeted them with a smile as Jimin brought you over and gave you a little twirl as an entrance.

“Y/N long time no see!” Jin exclaims as he wraps you in a tight hug with has you gasping for breath. His eyes are gleaming as he throws an arm around your shoulders and you take in the other guys in front of you.

Namjoon is standing there keeping an eye on everyone, as usual, Yoongi shoots you a small smile before going back to his phone. You lock eyes with Taehyung and feel yourself blush. He does look good tonight wearing all black and his dark hair is fluffy and falling in front of his eyes.

He shoots you a boxy grin and you smile back as you break eye contact and scan the crowd for familiar faces.

“Where's Jungkook?” Namjoon asks as he scans the crowd as well.

You start looking around for Jungkook through the crowd so you miss Namjoon's eyes on you, taking in your short black dress and heels.

“The girls got him three seconds!” Jimin teases as he shakes his head and the other boys laugh. You feel yourself lighten up with them around and join in on their laughter as you explain how the two of you hardly got through the door before he was dragged away.

“He dragged you to this party and didn't even get you a drink. We have to teach him manners.” Tae says catching your gaze as his eyes twinkle mischievously.

“Come on Y/N let's get you something.” Jimin offers as he takes your arm and Tae follows the both of you into the kitchen.

Before you know it you are handed a red cup, not even bothering to see what was in it, you take a drink. The alcohol burns your throat but there is a fruity aftertaste that makes it tolerable. You see some people you recognize and start to talk to them, just catching up on life. Jimin excuses himself as the doorbell rings but Taehyung stays by your side as you catch up with some old friends.

-------------------------

The night goes on and you start to feel better...a lot better. All the anxiety about the party has dissolved, instead, it is replaced with a soft fuzzy almost giddy feeling. Or maybe that was the booze.

Taehyung had made sure your cup was always filled and kept you close most of the night. He was your saving grace honestly because Jungkook had not reappeared after the girls had dragged him away and even though you had scanned the crowd multiple times you still couldn't spot him anywhere.

You were now seated at a tall bar stool in the kitchen talking to some girls you had just met tonight when you realized your cup was empty. You frowned. All night it had not been empty and now it was? You looked up and scanned the room for Taehyung, your bartender for the night but you couldn't find him. He was just gone? When did he leave? How long had you not noticed?

Everything felt blurry and kind of fuzzy as you continued to look through the crowd, which at this point was more a blur of color than real people. Since when did the kitchen get so crowded? And where was Tae?

You decided to walk around the party to see if you could find him or any of the guys. You put the cup down on the island next to you and tried to slide off the stool but in your drunken state, you stumbled and nearly hit the floor if it wasn't for a strong set of arms holding you steady.

At first, you thought it was Taehyung, who had finally come to find you but as you looked up you realized you were looking at Namjoon. He held you close and had an unwavering stare that made you nervous. His dark hair was falling into his eyes and he looped an arm around your waist to hold you steady, his hands hot on your side.

You fumbled and finally got your feet on the floor as he practically hoisted you up. You leaned on him for support and tried to thank him but you were having a hard time with words at the moment and you frowned, your cup was still empty.

“Y/N You okay.” He asked as you nodded, knowing if you spoke it would give away how not okay you were at the moment. God, how many drinks did Tae give you? You had lost count but then again after the second one you stopped counting anyway.

“Yeah, I just. Bathroom-need-the yeah. Bathroom.” You stammered as you felt hot under his piercing gaze. You broke from his grip and searched the house for a bathroom, stumbling along and bumping into people. You wondered if the amount of people doubled since the start of the party as it felt harder to navigate.

You vaguely remember Jimin showing you a bathroom that was right off the kitchen but as you opened the door it turned out to be a pantry.

God, how drunk were you?

You continued to navigate through the party eventually finding a bathroom up the stairs and down a hallway. Once inside you locked the door and placed your hands on the cold sink. You stared at your reflection in the mirror which was slightly swaying and you brought your face close to the mirror inspecting yourself.

You thought about the events of the night that led you here. How Jungkook still had not returned to your side, how Taehyung had stayed with you the whole night, told you you had looked pretty, kept your cup filled, how he took care of you.

You thought about what Jungkook had said on the walk to the house. His words rang in your ears louder than the music that was still blaring downstairs.

“Just promise me you will have some fun tonight”

And you did. You had a lot of fun tonight. You felt giddy and happy and slightly tipsy.

“I'm gonna fuck Tae.” You said to your reflection earning a giggle to spill from your lips as you stared at yourself.

It only made sense. Out of all the girls he could have talked to tonight, he chose you. You could trust him. Jungkook told you to have fun and that would be fun. Sure you never ever had sex with someone at a party but you also never partied and here you were in Jimin's bathroom feeling the happiest and lightest you had felt in weeks.

He could break your dry spell. He could be good for you. So good for you and good to you. Of course, you had heard the stories, even his friends had. Tae never denied it saying he didn't kiss and tell. You could be his secret.

Suddenly you couldn't stop thinking about him. His fluffy brown hair, his boxy smile. The way he laughed when Yoongi told a funny story. How he nearly took J-Hope down while giving him a hug when he finally showed up to the party, fashionably late of course. The best part was, he was as drunk as you were. So if the sex was bad it didn't matter. You doubted either of you would remember. It was perfect.

You ruffled your hair and tried to fix your mascara nearly poking yourself in the eye in the process. You pulled down your dress to go for more of a sultry look and as you opened the door you were met with a broad chest.

You almost ran right into it and when you looked up you were eye to eye with Namjoon, who had a worried look on his face. He must have followed you to the bathroom. Classic Namjoon looking out for everyone.

“Joonie!” You squealed as you pulled him in for a hug, taking in his spicy cologne and your head spun, the room spun, everything was kind of spinning at the moment.

He embraced you and held you still as you nearly tripped on your feet.

“Joonie Guess what!?” You said brightly as you watched his lips twitch into a smile at the cute nickname you gave him.

“Y/N how much have you had to drink? Are you okay?” He asked all serious and you threw back your head and laughed. Poor Namjoon always so serious. He needed to lighten up. You wanted him to feel how you felt. Light as a feather...or a nice pretty cloud. Besides all the spinning.

“Doesn't matter. Namjoon do you know where Taehyung is? I need him. It's so so important.” You slur, tilting your head and trying to look as cute as possible so he would help you. You had seen Jungkook try that with him many times and it always worked. You tried to imitate Jungkook's pouty smile.

Namjoon cocks an eyebrow and stares you down. His body is blocking the exit to the bathroom caging you in.

He didn't seem to want to help you.

Well,

Fine.

“Joonie move over I need to find Tae.” You whine as you place both hands on his chest and try to move him. His body is warm under your hands and he doesn't move at all as you push your force into him.

“What do you need him for?” Namjoon asks tilting his head.

“None of your business.” You tease. You didn't know why he had to be so serious all the time. It was ruining your plans.

“How about this? You tell me and I let you leave.” He says smiling at you, dimple poking out.

“For your information Joon. I'm going to fuck him.” You say crossing your arms and puffing out your chest to make yourself look bigger.

Namjoon puts his hands on either side of the bathroom threshold caging you in further.

“Y/N how much have you had to drink? Seriously. You aren't yourself right now.” He says staring you down as you look up at him with narrowed eyes.

“I don't know. I didn't bother counting because that's stupid! Taehyung gave me drinks and I drank them. It was polite! Jungkook told me to have fun and I was having fun till you showed up.” You shot back feeling annoyed.

Namjoon let out a low chuckle which only annoyed you further.

“I didn't want to come here in the first place but I guess I made a promise to Jungkook. I hate these parties but I sucked it up and came. Now I'm happy and having fun and you're trapping me in this bathroom. You are the worst Namjoon. Either help me find him or move over and I'll find him myself.” You bite out staring him down with the same hard stare he is giving you.

“I'm not letting you do something stupid because you are drunk Y/N,” Namjoon explains slowly as if he is talking to a child. It makes your blood boil even more.

“Fine! I won't have sex with Tae.”

“Good.”

“I'll fuck someone else. Jin sure is handsome.” You snap out trying to get under his skin some more. You weren't sure why you were pushing this issue so much. However, once you started you felt like you couldn't stop. Namjoon was going to ruin your fun so you were going to be a brat.

Namjoon's jaw goes slack before he composes himself.

“Y/N how about we get you some water? I think you need to sober up first. Then I will take you home before you do something stupid that you will regret.” He replies as you shoot him a death glare and are about to spit out some snarky response when you feel funny, and not the good giddy kind of funny you had been feeling.

In a split second, you are spinning around and throwing yourself at the toilet throwing up everything you drank. You hear the door close and your head spins thinking how badly you fucked up for Namjoon to see you get sick and just leave you there all by yourself.

You are surprised when you feel hands grab your hair and hold it back as another wave of nausea hits you and you throw up again.

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The first thing you notice when you wake up is a water bottle sitting on a nightstand with a pill bottle next to it.

Pain killers

For your hangover

which you are definitely feeling right now.

You buried your face into the pillow and closed your eyes, smiling. Jungkook sure didn't know how to take care of you. This was why he was your best friend. He was always so good to you.

However

Something felt off

Because Jungkook didn't have that color of nightstand, and these sheets certainly didn't smell like the cologne you knew he always wore.

You slowly opened your eyes and looked around.

You were in someone's bedroom. A very unfamiliar bedroom.

Panic seized your body as you sat fully up and felt the room spin. You closed your eyes and counted backward from ten waiting for the spinning to stop.

Once it felt safe you cracked open your eyes and took in your surroundings.

The room was very spacious, with hardwood floors and white walls where random art pieces hung. Books were scattered on the floor in an organized kind of way. There were floor-to-ceiling windows along the wall and the curtains were drawn, you could see sunlight peaking out from the bottom of the curtains and you rubbed your eyes wondering what time it even was.

You tried to piece together the events of last night

Going to the party with Jungkook

Hanging out with his friends

Hanging out with Taehyung

Having drinks

Losing Taehyung in the crowd

Then...

Then?

You shook your head.

You couldn't remember the rest.

All you knew was you were in a stranger's bed and you needed to figure this out. NOW

Your hands shook as you peeled off the covers and looked down. You were most definitely not wearing the black dress you wore to the party. Instead, you were wearing an oversized men's shirt that was a soft gray and by the feeling of it, it was very well worn. The tee shirt was long enough to be a dress and you for sure weren't wearing pants but you still had underwear on.

You felt sick

Not because of the hangover but because you could not remember what the heck happened.

You spotted the bathroom door and stood on shaky legs to get yourself there.

Your reflection in the mirror was pretty rough, dark circles under your eyes and your skin was paler than normal and when you peered closer you realized all the makeup you wore last night was gone. Someone had taken it off and put you to bed.

Your stomach lurched

But who did this?

You had never been this confused in your life.

Suddenly a knock on the door shook you from your thoughts. You froze hands still on the sink and a shocked expression on your face, whoever it was, you were about to find out.

“Y/N... you okay?” came a soft deep voice that you recognized.

Namjoon.

Namjoon took you home and took care of you.

But why?

You didn't remember even talking to him last night except for when Jimin brought you over at the start of the party.

“Y/N?” He repeated.

“Yes, I'm! I'm okay.” You answer back cringing at how scratchy your voice sounds.

Namjoon didn't bother answering but you could hear his soft footsteps walk away from the door and you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding.

You knew you couldn't hide in the bathroom forever so you splashed some water on your face and dried it off. You pulled his shirt down further and slowly ambled out of the bathroom. Your eyebrows shot up as he was sitting on the edge of the bed swiping through his phone. He looked cozy wearing black sweats and a dark green sweater.

You suddenly felt awkward and way too exposed as he looked up and shot you a shy smile.

“Um. Hey?” You mumbled as you made your way over to the bed and got back under the covers feeling like a little kid that was about to be scolded.

“Hey yourself. How are you feeling?” He asked as he pocketed his phone and stared you down.

“Good.. um...I mean... honestly confused.” You say with a small laugh trying to dispel the tension you were feeling. Why was this so awkward? Why were you so awkward?

“Okay, so how much of last night do you remember, or want to remember?” He asks with a grin as he adjusts his glasses and shifts so he's sitting at the end of the bed facing you.

“Oh god.” You reply covering your face with your hands feeling embarrassment seep through your entire body.

“How bad was it?” You ask needing the answer but also fearing it.

Namjoon let out a small chuckle as he motioned to the water and the medication sitting on the nightstand.

You took a drink and swallowed the pill under his watchful gaze.

“I mean it wasn't bad bad. You didn't do anything embarrassing in front of the whole party or anything. You just had a lot of drinks and had a hidden agenda that I didn't let you...um...accomplish? You threw up and finally let me convince you that I should take you home.”

He paused and you winced. There was more.

“Um, Jimin helped me get you into the car, don't worry we smuggled you down the back staircase so no one saw. You were... pretty drunk and saying...things.”

This was the moment you wished the bed and floor would swallow you whole. You burned red as Namjoon kept speaking.

“Then it was raining and I finally got you to Jimin's car. You thought-” He smiled and his dimple appeared “You thought it would be fun to run in the rain. Jimin had to chase you and got soaked.”

You covered your face with your hands and groaned.

“Want me to keep going?” Namjoon asked as you peeked through your fingers.

“How bad is the rest?” You asked feeling dread pool in your stomach.

“Jimin drove you and I stayed in the backseat with you in case you got sick again. Don't worry he told Yoongi to keep an eye on things and said he left to get more water for the party anyway. Um, you didn't want to go home. You wanted to...um... not be alone? So I told Jimin just to take you to my place, and uh. Here we are.” He said not making eye contact with you as you grabbed the nearest pillow to cover your face with.

How embarrassing.

“Then you kind of just walked in and found my bedroom on your own and you shucked off your clothes grabbed my shirt from the desk chair, put it on, and passed out. I took off your makeup because you were soaked from the rain and I didn't want you to sleep with it on.” He admitted looking up at you with a shy smile.

Shame burned through your body as you kept the pillow over your face and threw yourself back so you were lying down, white hot embarrassment coursing through you.

You still didn't know how many drinks Tae had given you and you wished you had been more responsible so you wouldn't be in this situation. Fricken Taehyung.

“Jungkook?” You asked suddenly alarmed that he wasn't a part of this. He didn't know you were taken from the party and he was going to flip.

“Jimin let him know you were staying with me. Everything was taken care of Y/N.” Namjoon said smoothly.

“I- Namjoon I'm so sorry I'm so embarrassed. This is, super embarrassing,” You admit as you remove the pillow from your face and sit up taking him in. He locks eyes with you and smiles softly.

“Y/N believe me... sure you said some stuff but this is not the most embarrassing drunk story I have been a part of. Remind me one time to tell you about Jin and the lawn decorations,” he says with a laugh that has you smiling

“Do I? Do I want to know what I said?” You ask timidly fearing the answer.

Namjoon broke your gaze and you saw a pink blush rise over his cheeks and ears.

Oh no.

“Um well remember when I said you had a hidden agenda. Do you... remember what that was.” He said suddenly very interested in the blue checkered duvet.

Your mouth went dry and you shook your head.

“Um, well you wanted to have sex with Taehyung. Something about him breaking your dry spell. You were very upset when I was blocking the door. Then you mentioned wanting to fuck Jin. Called him handsome. He'd love nothing more than to hear that.” Namjoon teased as you grit your teeth and once again hid your face.

Your heart was racing and you thought you would die from embarrassment. No way did you tell Namjoon that you wanted to fuck his best friend. I mean sure you had joked about it with Jungkook but that was different. So, so different.

“On the way down the stairs, you told Jimin about your...dry spell and how it didn't need to be one of Jungkook's friends, it could be anyone at the party. Then you started to mumble some random words and we eventually got you outside.” He said playing with his fingers and still not looking at you.

“I'm never going to live this down am I?” You ask with burning shame.

“Don't worry this whole thing is our secret. I don't think Jimin and I could survive if Jin knew you thought he was handsome and Tae knew drunk you wanted to have sex with him. They already have big enough egos, and having someone as beautiful as you want them? I'd never hear the end of it.” Namjoon teases which causes the tension to dispel and you let out an embarrassed laugh.

“I mean drunk me has good taste. Almost went after Mr World Wide Handsome himself” You tease back as Namjoon lets out a belly laugh and shakes his head smiling wide.

“Now, what about sober you?” He asks with a cock of an eyebrow which causes your laugh to be cut short as you stare him down, your mood changing from silly to serious with one sentence.

“Uh, I'm not sure. Sober me is a lot smarter than drunk me and would probably make better decisions.” You admit, your eyes not leaving his.

What was he getting at?

“Well, you went on and on about a dry spell and wouldn't let it go. I'm here for whatever you need. A friend, a fuck. Just saying. I mean, I do think you are beautiful and I'm so surprised someone hasn't made you theirs yet, two years can be a long time without a proper fuck.” Namjoon boldly states as your jaw drops and he pats your knee through the covers.

“I'm going to make some coffee, come join me if you like.” He says with a wink, leaving the bed and heading toward the door not bothering to look back.

What the fuck just happened?

Did he just offer to?

You weren't sure what was going on all you knew was Namjoon had offered to have sex with you and you felt like you got whiplash. Where did this even come from? Sure you had talked to him at parties and sure he was one of Jungkook's friends but this side of him you had never seen.

He was always so responsible, looking out for everyone, taking care of everyone sure he was a guy so he had needs but you never thought of him in this way. However, he planted the seed and now you can't stop thinking about it.

How tall he was and how he looked so good last night in his black silk shirt and dress pants. How he stood silently sipping a drink and staring everyone down. Tall, silent, sexy.

You felt heat pool in your stomach and felt your pussy throb at the thought of him under you, or on top of you. It had been two years, and Namjoon had offered, and it would be rude to reject him. Right. Right?

You slowly got out of bed and padded to the door to crack it open. Your eyes widened as you saw him in the kitchen, he had taken off his sweater and instead was wearing a white tank top which showed off his back muscles and his arm muscles. You internally groaned. He looked so good.

You timidly walked up to him and wrapped your arms around his body, pressing your face into his back. He stilled his movements and just let you stand there and hug him as the morning sun shone through the window and cast beams on the dark wood floors.

His scent filled your nose as your hands climbed up his firm chest. You felt a laugh rumble out of him as your hands ran along his chest and up to his collarbones before sliding down, down, down until you were at the hem of his sweatpants.

You could hear his breath hitch and he froze on the spot. For a moment you thought you had read the whole thing wrong and embarrassed yourself again when his big hands laced through yours and brought them down to wear you felt his cock, hard and straining against his sweatpants.

You let out an audible gasp as he turned around and stared you down, his eyes darkening and his tongue darting out to lick at his lips.

Your eyes were blown wide taking him in like this.

“Please tell me you want this?” He asked in a rough voice, eyes scanning yours.

“I just, I never thought, I didn't even think you noticed me.” You confessed softly, eyes not leaving his.

“God Y/N how could I not. You are so beautiful and I mean, I don't want to sound like a creep. I didn't take you back here just for this. I took you back as a friend because I was concerned about you. If you want this we can. If not we can go back to being friends. I don't want you to feel obligated. Or like you have to. That's not how I imagined this going down.” He admits with a shy blush.

“You imagined this?” You say softly with a teasing grin.

Before he can respond you wrap your arms around him and bring him in for a searing kiss. His arms immediately wrap around you as he lifts you up on the island and your legs part for him to stand in between. You wrap your legs around his hips bringing him closer as you deepen the kiss.

His kisses are strong and firm as his hands rub up and down your thighs. You are melting into him and feeling heat pool in your body and expand outwards to your fingers and toes.

His tongue darts out to lick at your lips and you moan which lets his tongue explore your mouth. Your hands are gripping the front of his shirt for dear life as he pushes into you harder, pouring out all the days and weeks of wanting you into this kiss.

Your hands travel down and you cup him through his sweatpants. He breaks the kiss and throws back his head with a grunt as you palm him, eyes sparking with mischief as you see how affected he is.

His hands continue to rub at your thighs as you rub him through his sweats, you can feel how hot and hard he is, his length impressive in the confines of his pants and you want nothing more than to suck him off and watch him fall apart under you.

Namjoon lets another groan leave his lips as in one swoop he lifts you off the counter and carries you to the bedroom, you throw your head back and laugh at his impatience as he finally gets you in the room and hastily throws you on the bed.

The giggles that were bubbling out of you had been cut off when you finally stared at him and you knew you are in for it.

His eyes are narrowed and dark as he takes you in. Lying in just his shirt, in his bed.

Oh. Right.

His eyes roam your body and settle between your legs which you are sure is slick with want. Namjoon grabs your ankles and drags you to the very edge of the bed which causes you to gasp and fist the sheets below.

He slowly teases your legs open and you cry out when he presses soft kisses to your ankle, then slowly, too slowly, moving his way up your leg.

You let out a frustrated noise which has him chuckling against your skin as you watch him continue his path of kisses.

Your calf, your knee, your thigh, your upper thigh.

You feel your core ache with need and wonder how you are even going to survive this. Namjoon hadn't even touched you yet and you felt positively soaked.

You grabbed the hem of his shirt and rucked it up so he could get a view of your underwear and he pressed his face into your upper thigh groaning as he took in your soaked core and how wide you spread your legs for him.

Namjoon's hands hooked into your underwear and pulled it down and watched as strings of arousal stuck to the fabric.

“Fuck that's so hot.” He groaned out as he tossed them somewhere in the room.

You suddenly felt shy and tried to close your legs to hide just how turned on you were but Namjoon's hands were strong and fast on your knees, prying your legs open and making you show him.

“Nuh uh, no hiding now baby girl. I've been waiting a long time for this. I'm going to savor it.” He promises with a wink, which has your stomach twisting and turning in anticipation.

One finger lightly drags up your folds which has you arching off the bed and moans spilling from your lips. You try desperately to keep them in but can't help it as Namjoon repeats the motion.

“Sensitive.” He teases with a grin as he places another kiss on your inner thigh which has you bucking your hips up. Desperate for him to touch you or taste you.

“If it's too much let me know.” He says with a serious tone which has your eyebrows raising in wonder.

He smirks at you and sucks a finger into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the digit and making you ache for him, your body a live wire needing to be touched before you lose your mind.

Namjoon keeps eye contact with you as he swirls the digit around his tongue. His hair is a mess and his eyes are blown wide and you want nothing more than to stare at him for a lifetime. He just looks so good between your legs.

You grow impatient at every pass of his tongue and you decide to move this along as your hand comes down to touch yourself if he isn't going to do it himself.

His free hand swats you away and he stares at you with a wicked grin.

“Impatient huh?” He asks as he finally pulls the digit out of his mouth and you whine and bring your hips up to him once more, desperate for him to do something. Anything.

“I mean I did say it was a dry spell of two years you know?” You snap as he chuckles and once again prods his finger at your entrance. Finally pushing it slowly, which has you arching off the bed and staring up at the ceiling, sweet moans spilling from your lips.

Sure you had fingered yourself before but Namjoon's fingers were large. It was a delicious stretch you had come to miss from someone else's hands and you ground down on it which caused another sweet laugh to fall from Namjoon's mouth.

“Namjoon, please, move.” You beg as his finger is still inside of you annoyingly unmoving.

“God baby you're tight gonna have to stretch you out good to take my cock.” He growls as he starts pumping his finger inside you slowly.

You can feel the easy glide of his finger against your walls and the movement alone had your eyes rolling in the back of your head as you grind down on them to get more pleasure.

“Yeah, baby you like fucking your pussy on my fingers? So dirty.” Namjoon praises as he adds another finger and you grip the sheets tighter as you chase your high.

You are embarrassingly close already and Namjoon must know because his other hand swipes at your wetness and brings it up to your clit circling the small bud which has you crying out in his name.

He continues to finger you and rub at your clit and you can feel your muscles grow taut and your stomach clench as you chase your high. You are so close you can feel Namjoon speed up his actions to bring you there.

His fingers begin to curl up against your G spot and you thrash on the bed as you are taken over by pleasure.

“Cum for me baby. Cum on my fingers so I can taste.” Namjoon pleads and those words alone are what set you off.

Your body arches off the bed as you chase your high and fall right over the precipice, your orgasm washing over you and walls throbbing around his fingers. You let Namjoon work you through it as you continue to moan and arch up, his fingers almost becoming too much as you whine and pull away from him, your heart racing and your whole body alight with post-orgasm bliss.

You let your heart rate slow down before you open your eyes and see him kneeling between your legs, his eyes locked on yours and his teeth biting into his lower lip.

You stare at him in absolute disbelief as his gaze breaks from yours and he looks down at his fingers which are drenched in your wetness.

He cocks an eyebrow and right as he is about to bring them to his mouth and hopefully fuck you into the mattress later, the doorbell rings.

You quickly sit up in bed as Namjoon whips his head around to stare at the closed bedroom door.

With his free hand, he takes out his phone and fumbles around before he frowns, checking the door camera.

“Jungkook.” He says, panicked eyes meeting yours.

“What do you mean? Jungkook? Here? Why?” You mutter scrambling to put yourself together after what you just went through.

The doorbell rings again and kicks Namjoon into gear. He slowly gets up from the floor and winces when he finally stands tall and stretches out. You're still on the bed half naked staring at him wondering what the fuck to do.

He locks eyes with you and puts his fingers in his mouth which causes a groan to slip from your lips. Even though your friend is waiting at the door Namjoon takes his time cleaning off his fingers keeping his dark gaze locked on yours.

This time there are impatient knocks at the door as Namjoon pops his fingers out of his mouth and wipes the rest of it on his sweats.

He heads towards the door without saying anything to you so you do the first thing you can think of and pretend to be asleep. You scramble up the bed and throw the covers over yourself closing your eyes tight and trying to forget the image of him licking your arousal off his long thick fingers.

You heard the door being answered, Namjoon was polite as always as if he didn't just give you the orgasm of your life. You wonder if he washed his hands or if Jungkook could smell your arousal on them and if Jungkook would even know what went down.

“She's okay Kook really. She's been sleeping all morning I was actually just about to make food then wake her.” You hear Namjoon say and you bite back a laugh. You could hardly sleep now after what he did to you. How hard he made you cum. How desperate you were for him to do it again.

Even though you already came you can still feel the thrumming need of desire coursing through you. If Jungkook didn't interrupt would you be taking his cock right now? Would he take his time with you or completely ravish you? Was he soft and sweet in bed or an absolute animal?

You tried to rid your mind of those ideas as you could still hear Jungkook and Namjoon talking in the kitchen.

“Kookie it's fine. She threw up so I took her here because she kept saying how she didn't want to be alone. She took the bed I took the couch.” Namjoon explained as you felt your cheeks burn. You never bothered to ask him where he slept as you drowned in the embarrassment of his retelling of your night.

“Namjoon you are a lifesaver, when Jimin told me, I mean, it could have been anyone. I'm glad she was with you. She's in good hands with you.” Jungkook explains as you hear a chair squeaking along the floor.

“She is in very good hands with me. She was taken care of.” He responds and you almost shake your head as you can imagine the look on his face and what that sentence suggested. Jungkook had no idea but you were very well taken care of.

“You said you were going to make food? How about I do that so we don't have an injury and you go wake her yeah? I owe her an apology for ditching and food makes everything better. Especially if you're hungover.” You hear Jungkook explain.

“Of course, you know where everything is,” Namjoon says as you hear footsteps approaching the bedroom door. You clench your legs together still feeling arousal pool as he opens the door and slowly slips inside.

“Wakey Wakey sleepy head,” Namjoon says loud enough for Jungkook to hear as you bite back a laugh and sit up.

Namjoon is staring at you eyes wide and smiling.

“God I love seeing you in my bed. It's every fantasy come true.” He mumbles low enough for only you to hear.

You bite your lip at his words and slowly remove the covers to get out of bed.

Namjoon comes around the bed quickly and stops you. His eyes scan your face and you feel small under his gaze.

He leans down and quickly kisses you. His body presses into yours and you can still feel his erection on your bare thigh.

“I do mean what I said before Y/N. I'm here if you need a friend or a fuck. We're already friends so I guess I owe you a rain check for a proper fuck and just so you know. I always keep my promises.” He whispers which causes goosebumps to appear on your skin and you shiver under him.

“Now come on, breakfast.” He says switching into the soft smiley Namjoon you know so well as he once again pops his fingers into his mouth which has your jaw-dropping, he shoots you a wink and leaves the bedroom leaving you speechless and once again wondering what the fuck just happened

Thank you for reading!!

#namjoon x reader #namjoon/reader #namjoon smut #namjoon fanfic #bts fanfic #kim namjoon/reader #kim namjoon smut #bts fic

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asdfghjklmals · 8 months

Text

THE SWEETEST SIGHT✩༶‧˚

GENRE + T/W: sfw, fluff. suggestive jokes. WORD COUNT: 2.1k words. TAGS: satoru gojo x fem!oc, dad!gojo, mom!oc, established couple.

SYNOPSIS: oc gojo girlfriend and satoru take their child to get donuts after an unfair game of hide and seek. AUTHOR'S NOTE: this is the first fic i've ever written with sayuri being a little older. it's so cute and fun to imagine how oc gojo girlfriend and satoru would be as parents. after what happened with jjk 236, i thought we could use some lightheartedness. 💚 artwork is from ‘who made me a princess’. REMINDER: if you want to imagine yourself in oc gojo girlfriend's character descriptions instead, please do!

“satoru gojo! how many times do i have to tell you to stop leaving your socks around the apartment?!” you screeched out to the white haired sorcerer. "we have a laundry hamper for this exact reason!"

this over-a-decade long battle with satoru’s socks terrorizing the apartment floor would never end.

two little feet came quickly shuffling towards you in the living room where you were standing.

“mommy!” your white haired child yelled at you while wiggling her index finger with the sass she inherited from you, “no no yell daddy!” (translation: “don’t yell at daddy!”)

this child not only has you, but satoru gojo wrapped around her finger. sayuri gojo would do anything for her daddy, even if that meant defending him from mommy. you kissed the front of your teeth and crouched down to your baby girl’s level to calmly say to her, “mommy’s not yelling at daddy, yurs.”

that satoru gojo. ever since sayuri was born, satoru always used her to double team you. and now that she could walk (very wobbly) on her own and speak a few words for her young age, she always came running to his defense with her two little feet. it was like he trained her just to spite you for all the arguments throughout the years you've been together.

“mommy yell.” sayuri reported back to you innocently, holding your cheeks in her two tiny plump hands. (translation: “daddy said mommy is yelling at him.”)

you grabbed her hands from your face and kissed each of her palms before picking her up and perching her on the side of your hip. you asked her cunningly, “now, where is your daddy?”

she replied with a giggle, “daddy pee-ah-boo!” (translation: “daddy is playing hide and go seek!”)

peek-a-boo was another name for hide and go seek in your household according to sayuri. you sighed and made your way to your master bedroom to find your childish baby daddy. his go-to hiding spot whenever he was playing with sayuri was the master bedroom closet.

“satoru,” you called out to him in a threat-laced tone, “don’t make me come find you—or else.”

sayuri started to giggle again. it was obvious she knew where satoru was hiding. you looked down at your baby girl in your arm and whispered to her, “where is daddy hiding?”

she shrieked with laughter and nuzzled her face in your chest, pointing at the closed closet door. she thought this game of hide and go seek was hilarious because mommy was playing this time.

you walked towards the closet and attempted to turn the doorknob. it was locked. you closed your eyes and sighed again. time for plan b.

“i guess mommy and sayuri should just go to the bakery down the street to get donuts since we can’t find daddy.” you feigned out loud, turning on your heels to make your way towards the living room with sayuri. you noticed she was still looking over your shoulder at the closet door, probably wondering why her father hasn’t shown himself yet.

you heard the doorknob rattle quickly, “wait!” satoru called out to you, “—daddy wants to come too!”

hook. reel. and sink em’.

you felt two strong arms wrap around your waist as sayuri started laughing again. your child’s laughter was the best sound in the world. satoru always said he loved your laugh, and you never understood why until you heard sayuri’s laugh for the first time. her laugh always started out with a cackle—then a high pitch squeal type of giggle.

“gotcha.” you turned to face satoru and teased him, “you are so bad at hide and seek, babe.”

satoru grinned at you before he bent down to kiss the top of sayuri’s head. “so, are we going to get donuts or not?”

“your treat?” you asked innocently with the puppy dog eyes you knew he couldn’t resist, “—since you made me pick up your socks… again.”

“daddy,” sayuri also looked at him with the same green puppy dog eyes as you, “yuwi donuh?” (translation: “can sayuri have a donut too?”)

with no hesitation at all, satoru caved, “well, when my two girls double team me with such cute eyes like that, how can i say no?”

******************************

you and satoru watched as your daughter sat across from the both of you in a high chair. she was eating her double chocolate donut, sweet milk chocolate all over her face and hands. donut crumbles scattered around her and her plate. it was a sweet (literal), but messy sight. you were so grateful for whoever created silicone bibs for children.

“how did our baby girl get such a sweet tooth?” satoru smiled while admiring sayuri, watching her stuff her face. his elbow resting on the table, cheek resting in his palm.

you face palmed yourself before taking a bite of your glazed donut, “don’t you know who her father is?”

“some handsome guy named satoru gojo.” satoru sat back in his chair with his arms folded. he thought he was so funny with that statement.

you rolled your eyes at him and turned back to face your daughter. she was licking her chocolate covered fingers. she stopped when she made eye contact with you and satoru.

“daddy,” she started to say, “no donuh?” (translation: “why aren’t you eating your donut?”)

you looked at satoru’s untouched double chocolate donut sitting in front of him. her question was very valid.

“i’m just watching ya’ first, sweetheart.” satoru replied calmly, he winked at her from under his sunglasses. “i’ll take a bite, just for you, yurs.”

satoru picked up his donut and broke it in half before he bit into it. it was a tiny habit he had whenever he got a donut because he didn’t want to get chocolate glaze all over his mouth.

sayuri started giggling and clapping, her sparkly green eyes gleaming, “yay!” she was happy to see her daddy enjoying his donut too.

it was the simple moments like walking down the street to get donuts with your little family that made life worth it for you and satoru. your heart swelled at the sight of your white haired baby girl and your white haired lover sitting across from each other, both enjoying their double chocolate donut. they were the spitting images of each other… with the same exact sweet tooth. like father, like daughter.

you happily put your arm around satoru’s broad shoulder and pulled him closer to you, planting multiple kisses on his cheek as he continued to chew on his sweet treat. you could tell by the way his lips curved, he was loving the attention he was receiving from you.

“me!” sayuri called out, hands reaching out for you.

you asked your baby girl, “you want a kiss from mommy too?”

“no! yuwi kiss daddy!” (translation: “no, i want to give daddy a kiss too!”)

you laughed and reached into your diaper bag to take out baby wipes to wipe your daughter’s chocolate covered fingers, purposely skipping her face and mouth for now. you picked her up from the high chair and held her as she leaned her face towards satoru’s cheek.

sayuri held her father’s face with her chubby hands, pecking satoru with her tiny lips. the sweet chocolate-covered kiss decorated satoru’s cheek as you giggled. you and satoru were never shy when it came to spoiling your daughter with affection, it was a no brainer she would want to give love to her mom and dad too.

“thanks, sweetheart.” satoru said with a toothy smile.

he wiped his mouth with a napkin while you returned to your seat next to him, this time with sayuri in your arms. you wiped off the remaining chocolate from sayuri’s face and satoru’s cheek with another baby wipe.

“ready to go?” you asked satoru as he finished eating. he took one last sip of his coffee and nodded. you got up from your seat.

“hold on,” satoru grabbed your arm, “you got something on your face, sweetheart.”

“i do?” you turned to grab a pocket mirror from sayuri’s diaper bag to inspect your face.

you felt satoru pull you towards him. you looked back at him. his lips found yours as he gently peppered kisses along your bottom lip. he pulled away from you to lick his lips, “just a piece of glaze from your donut. i got it.”

“satoru—” you whispered with a warning, “no funny business in front of our daughter or the bakery employees.”

sayuri’s curious green eyes looked over at you two, “kiss!”

“again?” you asked her with a soft chuckle, eyes disappearing behind your smile.

you may have not understood sayuri, but satoru did. the doting father laughed out loud before leaning over to give his daughter a kiss on the cheek too. how could he resist her cute little comments? and not to mention she embodied half of the best parts of you and him. he couldn’t love anything in the world more than sayuri and you.

sayuri giggled and squealed loudly as satoru snuck a few more kisses to her cheek and forehead. she attempted to hide from him by shoving her face into your arms and chest. it was the sweetest sight you ever saw.

EXTRA:

a pair of socks sitting in the middle of the floor of your bedroom taunted you this morning as you were making the bed.

satoru, who was playing with your daughter in the living room earlier, walked into the bedroom. he made eye contact with the socks and his eyes widened. "wait. babe, before you yell at me... watch this." satoru raised his hands up in defense and called out for your daughter, "yurs!"

you glared at him, "are you calling the president of the satoru gojo protection squad so she can just defend you again?"

sayuri's two little feet came running into the room, she looked at satoru with eager eyes. he pointed to his socks on the floor, "socks."

two bright green eyes shared a cheeky smile with him. she picked up the socks and walked to the laundry hamper to place them next to it. she wasn't tall enough to put them directly into the hamper, but right next to it would do according to her father.

"so you're training our daughter to be your maid?" you threw an ice shard at satoru as he laughed. he walked over to the hamper where your daughter was standing and picked her up. putting her up on his shoulders as she held his head, nuzzling hers with his.

"come to mommy, yurs. daddy is being ridiculous." you held your arms out for sayuri, but satoru backed away from you playfully, refusing to give you his baby girl. you scolded satoru, "—be careful, satoru. don't drop her."

"would i ever drop her?" satoru asked incredulously, offended that you would even think he would drop the most precious thing in the world to him. he always had a secure grip on sayuri, and his infinity would never let her hit the ground if she ever fell from his arms or shoulders.

"i mean... you've dropped me before, so there's no reassurance there." you retorted, remembering the very brazen shower memory where satoru dropped you. you may have slipped out of his grasp, but you weren’t going to admit that. you had a bruise on your butt cheek for weeks because of it.

satoru smirked and approached you with a sultry voice. he whispered in your ear, "i said i was sorry. if we try it again, i promise i won't drop you this time."

you giggled at the tempting offer but refused, "no, i swore off of showers with you after that."

satoru kissed your earlobe as you shivered. your returned the favor and kissed him on the corner of his lips before reaching up for your baby girl, swiping her from his shoulders.

"should we have breakfast, my baby?" you asked sayuri. she held your face in her tiny little palms and smiled at you. she had the same exact smirk as satoru. the same one you fell in love with so long ago.

“pancake?” sayuri asked.

you laughed, “yes, baby—with bananas too.”

you started to walk out of the bedroom to make your way to the kitchen with your daughter attached to your hip.

satoru smiled at the sight of you and sayuri. he called out to the both of you, "wait for daddy you two!"

you and sayuri were the sweetest things in satoru gojo's life. satoru thought that he could stay on this specific type of sugar rush forever.

DIVIDERS PROVIDED BY @/ANLIAN-AISHANG

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