#no matter what you see yourself as you are still just as much one of us as anyone else
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Moonstruck
jason todd x reader
aka sober thoughts and all that
warnings: intoxication
Jason has a thing about drinking around you. He’d kind of skirted around it for a while when you were first dating, but after a while you’d noticed he never really has more than a drink or two regardless of how much you had. The only times you ever see him drink more is when he’s downing whiskey as a pain mitigater when he needs stitches. You’d initially assumed he just wasn’t a big drinker, but eventually you’d come to realize it was more of a matter of not wanting to lose his inhibitions around you.
You know he’s still working on trusting himself, even sober, because he’s terrified of accidentally hurting you. But you have a hard time imagining him losing control like that in any state and you’re nearly certain he’s just being hard on himself.
You’ve been falling in and out of less than peaceful sleep for the past few hours, having trouble easing yourself while your boyfriend is still out. You at least attempted to get to bed earlier tonight because for once he isn’t out fighting crime and risking injury, though you haven’t found much more luck than usual.
You lie on your back, half ready to give up and turn on a movie while you wait.
You’re momentarily startled to hear Dick bellow out your name, no regard for the fact that it’s nearing three in the morning and you have neighbors. He’s not much of a shouter so you’re instantly on alert, worried that he or Jason are hurt.
You fumble out of bed and rush to the living room, surprised to find your fire escape empty. You turn, proceeding towards the front door, opening it cautiously.
“Dick? What—” You don’t need to finish your question because the second you take one good look at the two of them, the state of them is immediately clear. Dick, who’s barely standing upright on his own, supports your boyfriend's weight via Jason’s arm slinged around his shoulder.
“Hey!” Dick grins at you, far more lively than he has any business being this late at night. “Sorry, couldn’t remember which apartment was yours.”
You nod pensively, “Well the perspective’s different than when you’re coming in through the window.”
He continues on past that without thought, “I’ve come to deliver,” he says, gesturing up to Jason with a bit of a strain. You’re pretty sure there were supposed to be a couple more words at the end of that sentence but you understand well enough anyway.
You nod, eyebrows raised and try to hide a smile. “Thanks, Dick.” He shifts your boyfriend off of his shoulder to lean him up against the door frame, where Jason places a majority of his weight.
You eye him warily, not confident in his steadiness. He seems to hold well enough against the heavy door though, his eyes drifting around the tiled floor. Your attention shifts to Dick, who’s clearly satisfied with a job well done and ready to go.
You tilt your head, seeing him turn away. “You good?”
“I’m great!” He calls out with a thumbs up. You watch as he staggers away, nearly missing the exit.
You look back over at Jason, who’s already staring at you with a soft gaze. “You’re pretty,” he fawns, irises blown out and flickering all over your face.
“Oh you’re drunk drunk.” You grin, watching him stumble forward a bit.
He shakes his head, looking a bit dizzy after, “Shoulda seen Tim.”
You pause mid laugh, “…Who drove you here?”
He falters at that, gaze falling to the floor. “Uh…” He winces, “Damian…”
You nod slowly, eyes wide, “We’re gonna talk about that tomorrow.”
“He’s better than you’d think.” You’d hope so.
Well, at least he’s spending time with his brothers.
You sigh, straightening your posture in preparation for the job to come. “Alright, come on big guy,” you pull him up from his slant against the wall, hauling him into the same position he’d been in with Dick—though you’re struggling significantly more to hold him upright. “You gotta help me out here, Jay,” you grunt, trying very hard not to fold under his weight. You swat the door shut behind you, making peace with the fact that he’ll scold in the morning for not locking it.
He presses an uncoordinated kiss to the side of your head as you try to shuffle him along, not interested in the least in easing your labor. His self discipline isn't quite gone, but his awareness of how big he is sure seems to be.
You wobble from the heavy weight of his arm around your shoulders, holding onto him by his waist. You manage to get him to sidestep your cat, narrowly, though Salem hisses at him all the same. Jason takes no notice. You stumble into your bedroom with only about 30% of his usual balance aiding your effort.
He collapses onto the bed the second his legs hit the frame, pulling you down with him. You lie, somewhat awkwardly, on his chest as he holds you tight—probably tighter than he would if he were sober. It feels nice though.
You lie your cheek flat on his chest, relaxing against him. “What’d you guys do? Thought you were just having an easy night.”
He takes a deep breath before answering, “Raided Dick’s liquor c—” he stops, mulling over his words. “...Bruce’s liquor that was in Dick’s cabinet.” He annunciates every word in that sentence very carefully.
You squint speculatively, “Didn’t take Dick for the stealing type.”
He grumbles, “He’s not. ‘Less it’s Bruce.”
You can’t help the smile that breaks out on your face, “Aw, you really do take after your big brother, don’t you?”
He scoffs at that, “I don’t. I’m the one who gave him the idea.” Yeah, that sounds right.
He taps on your cheek lightly and you pick your head up to find him looking at you with puppy dog eyes.
“What’s that look for?”
“Can I kiss you?” his eyes drop down to your lips, “I really wanna kiss you.” He’s nearly whispering and you feel your heart skip several beats at the feeling of his eyes on you like this.
You press a light kiss to his lips and he practically purrs.
You pull back, admiring the serene expression on his face. “You taste like whiskey.”
“I like whiskey,” he says honestly.
You smile, nodding. “I know. Don’t know why, but..”
He leans in for another kiss but you parry, only letting his lips meet your cheek. He frowns grimly, attempting to chase your lips.
“Lemme kiss you,” the pout on his face is adorable and while you hesitate to deny him, you retreat, resting your chin on his chest.
You smile wistfully, tracing his cheekbone, “You’re drunk, baby.”
“‘M not that drunk,” he tells you, though everything about him says otherwise.
Your hand falls flat on his shoulder. “Your eleven year old brother drove you here.”
He shrugs, “He can drive the bat…batcar? Bat…”
“Batmobile,” you finish.
“The batmobile.” he nods, as if he was seconds away from remembering. You suspect he wasn’t.
“Bruce lets him drive it?” you question, wholly disbelieving.
“No.”
Enough said.
“You’re gonna be hungover as hell in the morning,” you mumble, taking in his uninhibited demeanor.
He nods that off, “‘S okay. You’ll be here, right?”
You tilt your head, observing him chalantly. “Where else would I go?”
His arms snake tighter around you at that, giving you a little squeeze before relenting.
“I wanna marry you,” he murmurs, brushing your hair out of your face and tucking it neatly behind your ear.
You blink rapidly a few times, “What?” You push yourself up on his chest, sitting up on his abdomen.
“Wanna marry you.” He repeats, eyes lidded as he breathes easy under you. “You’re m’favorite person…want you t’be my wife.”
Your breath gets caught in your throat. “..You want me to be your wife?”
His lips are slightly parted and his pupils are wide as he stares up at you, taking in your features carefully. “‘Course I do.” He brings his fingers up to your cheek, touching you softly with all the wonderment of a little kid. “You’re so pretty.”
You’re quick to return, “So are you.” Especially right now.
He shuts his eyes momentarily, shaking his head morosely, “You gotta stop bein’ so nice t’me,” he lets his hand fall to rest on your thigh. “Don’t deserve it.”
“Shut up,” you lour, “You deserve it more than anybody.”
“No. Not more than you,” his hands knead at your thighs like it’s an instinct. “You deserve everything.” He closes his eyes, tilting his chin up as his head sinks further back into the pillow. “Think I’d do anything you wanted.”
“Jay—”
He continues on, “Want you t’be happy. Wanna make you happy.”
Your face falls into an expression of dazed awe, “You do make me happy.”
He dwindles at that, “No, really happy. Take care of you. Build you a house, give you babies. Wha’ever you want.”
He paws at your thighs, trying to get you to come closer again to him. You lay back down on top of him and his hand instantly buries itself in your hair, stroking softly. “You’re just…you’re so perfect…” He turns his head to mumble against your forehead, “Feel like I dreamed you, sometimes.”
You breathe deeply against the crook of his neck, eyes feeling glassy. “I love you.” It’s all you can get out, and it’s not enough, but it’s all of it.
“I love you,” he says like he’s trying to turn it into gospel. “So much. I love you so much, so fuckin’ much.” His words start to get lost in his weary babbling.
Your chest feels full and you can distinctly feel every beat of your heart against it. Or maybe it’s Jason’s heart. But what’s the difference?
You press a tender kiss to the nape of his neck. “You’re really sweet when you’re drunk, you know that?”
He hums lowly, head lulling against yours.
You still for a second, finding his breathing has slowed and his hand has seized its movement in your hair. His soft breaths fill the air as you press a kiss to his collarbone before settling in completely. “You’re gonna love when I tell you about this in the morning,” you whisper, letting your eyes shut too.
💗 likes are the poor mans reblog 💗
#jason todd loves his gf#jason todd x reader#jason todd x y/n#jason todd x you#jason todd/you#jason todd imagine#jason todd/reader#jason todd fanfic#jason todd fanfiction#red hood x you#red hood imagine#red hood x reader#red hood fanfic#red hood fanfiction#dc imagine#dc x reader#dc x y/n
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Dirty Dancing | Joost Klein (Groupie Love Series)
Part II of the Groupie Love Series starts immediately after part I
description: joost klein x groupie!f! reader- following their hookup, Joost learns that reader will be in Belgium for one more day and decides to invite her out clubbing, wanting to see her once more.
warnings: 18+ NSFW, MDNI, semi-public sex (i guess technically), unprotected P in V, drunk-ish sex... i think thats it!
word count: 4870
"Did you enjoy the show tonight?"
You inhale, allowing the smell of Joost's burning cigarette to enter your lungs,
"I think I enjoyed a little more than the show," Your eyelids hang low, your words are slow, almost sloppy- as if you had just a little too much to drink.
A knowing smirk continues to linger on Joost's face, "Really, did you the show?"
"I wouldn't have traveled to three different countries to see you if I hadn't been enjoying myself." You tilt your head to the side, taking in his features- he was the sort of perfect that kind of hurt to look at, each of his features in perfect harmony with one eachother, "I didn't travel all this way just to try to sleep with you- but tonight certainly was a pleasant surprise."
"You make it sound like trying to sleep with me was part of your plan,"
"And could you blame me if it was?"
Joost leans back on the couch, the satisfied look on his face making it all too obvious how much he's enjoying your praise. and the way he moves makes you wince- still inside you, your eyes shut tight, and your muscles clench.
"Hmmsorry sweetie," He hums, placing his free hand on your thigh, beginning to rub gentle circles into the supple flesh. His delicate touch made you want to collapse into him- to melt into his chest and make this night much more romantic than either of you had anticipated. But you stay still, instead waiting intently for him to speak again, "How long are you in Belgium for?"
"Two days." You shrug, responding matter-of-factly.
"Good," A smile creeps on his face as he lifts his cigarette back up to his lips, "I'd like to see you again." He takes a drag, and you watch as his chest rises with his inhale, glistening with a fine layer of sweat. He turns his head to the side, his sharpened jawbone only becoming more pronounced as he lifts his head up to exhale- careful not to blow the smoke towards you.
He'd like to see you again
You attempt to bite back your excitement, bottom lip tucked under your teeth as he continues.
"We're going to a club not too far away tomorrow night, and I think you should come." He spoke so nonchalantly like you were just supposed to know who "we" referred to, or really even know the area you were in.
"Sounds..." The word lingers on your tongue as you search for the proper adjective, "Fun." You smile, careful not to give too much away, attempting to stay as cool about the situation as he was, "But I'm staying here with a friend, is it alright if she comes with me?"
"As long as you're there," Joost squeezes your thigh where his hand had been resting. His small move gets a breath stuck in your throat and you swallow, attempting to adjust your breathing back to normal without him noticing.
You only nod in response, affirming you would indeed be there.
Your body grows hot the moment you step into the crowded club. The music boomed from the speakers that filled the venue, the bass so loud you could feel yourself vibrating.
"Do you know where he's supposed to be?" Your friend leans in, raising her voice to be heard over the music.
"No," You pause, taking a second to scan the crowd of people that filled the club. It was a little hard to see, the only lights illuminating the dark space were scattered LEDs that cast the place in a glow of various colors, "He just said what time he'd be here." You couldn't find him in your quick scan of the place, "I think I'll just let him find me." After all, he had been the one to invite you out, so you figured it should be on him to seek you out.
"Fine," She shrugs, "But we're drinking in the meantime." She grabs you by the wrist, pulling you to the crowded bar. The two of you push past the sea of sweaty bodies on the dance floor, adrenaline rushing your veins as you realize just how packed the club is- you were always one to jump at the chance to party.
Practically leaning over the bar, your friend outstretches her hand to flag down the bartender. You continue to scan the area surrounding you while she yells her order- where was he? You worried that maybe he bailed, or you accidentally got the wrong address.
However- your worries quickly subsided as the bartender placed the two rounds of shots your friend had ordered for the both of you down. You don't bother to ask what she ordered, at the end of the day, it all went down the same.
You smile down at the glass, wrapping two fingers around it before clinking it against the glass your friend held.
"Bottoms up," She smirks.
The liquid slides down your tongue, warming your esophagus and spreading to your stomach. Goosebumps form atop your skin as you try to stop yourself from wincing at the way the alcohol bitterly burns at your tongue. Before you let the unpleasant sensation subside, you're already throwing back the second shot.
You exhale as you tap the glass down on the bar,
"Another round?" You smile.
Your friend holds a single finger up to you, as to tell you to wait, before she mimics you, downing her second shot. Her face crinkles as she slams the glass down with a thump.
"Give me a second, you're better at this than me," She shakes her head, attempting to rid herself of the taste.
Suddenly her eyes widen, and you feel someone grab your hand. The initial shock makes you jump, quickly flipping your head to see who it is.
"I've been looking for you," It was Joost, a smile on his face as he brought your hand further up, placing a kiss to your knuckles. The small gesture makes your face grow hot, and you're unable to control the small giggles that fall out of your mouth as he gently sets your hand down.
"Hi," You grin, studying his face. He looks much more put together tonight than yesterday, seeing as the night had just begun. Your eyes trail down from his face, looking down towards his neck, the surface above his Lola Bunny tattoo covered in splotches of red and purple- marks caused by your mouth and you briefly wondered if things would escalate between you again tonight.
"Hello," The smile lingers on his face as his eyes flick to your friend, "And who is this?"
"Nora," She smiles back.
"I'm Joost!" He exclaims, excited to introduce himself to someone new.
"Oh, I know," She nods
"We were just about to do another round of shots, care to do one with us?" Your eyelids flutter as the question leaves your mouth, a quiet beg for him to say yes.
"Ja!" He nods, enthusiastic at the prospect of getting another drink in his system. "What are we drinking?"
You turn around, a motion to tell your friend to answer the question,
"Oh-uh," Nora furrows her brows, "Whatever the house vodka is- I don't know, something cheap."
"Works for me," Joost shrugs before leaning down to you, lightly grazing your arm with his palm as he goes to talk into your ear, "Your drinks are on me after this one though."
You bite your lip, trying to stifle the giggle that was about to escape you at the feeling of Joost's breath against your neck.
"Works for me," You repeat his words back to him.
The small shared moment is quickly broken by the bartender placing another round of shots in front of the now three of you. Joost is the first to take a glass, raising it to the rest of you to follow,
"Proost!" (cheers) He just about yells, and you and Nora minic, clinking your glasses together before downing the liquid.
Swallowing down the liquor didn't get much easier for you- but you knew you were at the point where you would start feeling it a little. Joost seemed unaffected, swiftly putting down the glass without as much as a flinch-like he was only drinking water.
Joost raises his voice over the music, "I'd like to introduce you two to my friends, ja?"
Sitting at a section in the back you watch on as Joost and one of his friends dance around, in front of you, screaming the words to whatever Dutch song that had been booming through the club.
Nora had wandered off somewhere, having hit it off with some girl who had offered to buy her a drink.
"What?" Joost asks, "You don't dance?" He teases, a smirk pulling at his lip.
"Says who?" You flick your gaze up to him
"Says you who's been sitting here just staring at me for the last twenty minutes."
"Maybe I like staring at you."
He rolls his eyes, outstretching a hand for you to grab so he can stand you up. You oblige, his strong tattooed hand wrapping around your own as he tugs at your arm. He barely gives you enough time to stand up before he's pulling you off to the dancefloor.
The enthusiasm with which he moved was kind of adorable you couldn't lie, the smile plastered on his face, drink in hand as he danced around you- it was a little like he was in his own world, like he didn't care one bit about the other people around him.
As he's behind you he slips his hands to your waist, pulling your back to his chest. He sways you from side to side in time with the music, and you eventually get into the groove of it, throwing your head back to rest by his shoulder.
Despite the position you were in, the movements between the two of you remained fairly chaste for the time being. After a few minutes, Joost lowered his head to rest his chin on your shoulder, leaning to speak in your ear,
"Stay here, I'm gonna get us another round of drinks." He finished his sentence with a light peck to your temple before hurrying off to the bar.
The small kiss left you feeling hot- and wanting more, leading you to decide to really put the moves on Joost when he got back.
You keep to yourself for the time being, continuing to feel the music as the alcohol slowly sweeps away your inhibitions.
It wasn't long however until Joost came back, holding two glasses full of a dark liquid. You didn't need to ask- in the under an hour that you had been here you'd quickly become accustomed to Joost and his friend's affinity for Bacardi and Coke- even having given the drink some dumb name you couldn't remember.
He hands you the glass with a grin, eager to get back to you.
"Thank you," You stand up on your toes, reaching to give Joost a kiss on the cheek as a show of your gratitude. You're able to suck down about a quarter of the drink before wincing, a soft chuckle leaving Joost's mouth at the way your face twists. It was evident he was much better at holding his liquor than you were.
Soon enough you had found yourself once again with your back pressed against Joost's chest, his free arm wrapped around your waist. However, things felt a lot less wholesome this time- the way your hips circled with intent with your ass pressed against his crotch. You tipped your head back, eager to get a look at him as the pair of you danced with one another. As you stared up at him there was no longer a goofy smile plastered on his face, rather he was staring back down at you, his eyes lit with a familiar lust.
You're taken out of your thoughts with a gasp as you feel someone knock into you, before a liquid hits your chest, making you fling your head up from where it had laid against Joost. Above you stood a man, taller than you but shorter than Joost, clearly hammered holding a half-emptied beer in his hand.
"Kom op, kijk uit waar je loopt!" (come on man, watch where you're going) Joost's arm leaves your waist as he throws up his hand, practically scolding the man for knocking into you.
There's a sheepish look drawn upon the man's face as he holds up a hand in defense, A slurred, "Uhsorry," leaves his mouth before quickly walking away.
Joost grabs at your waist to motion you to turn to face him,
He mutters something in Dutch, shaking his head in annoyance before returning his full attention to you, eyeing the drops of beer that had been spilled all over your front, "I'm sorry, I'll get that," his arm slipping around your waist, lowering his head, making you suck in a breath as his tongue meets your skin, licking at the liquid that sat on the exposed flesh of your cleavage.
You can't help but tip your head back to allow him better access, the small licks at your chest to help clean you up soon turning into small kisses up the side of your neck. You weren't sure how much longer you could keep this up before you were begging him to take you back to his hotel room.
"What's got your pulse so quick, liefje?" He picks his head up from your neck, his lips curved in a knowing smile. Damn him.
"I didn't know you were a doctor," You raise an eyebrow, challenging his flirting.
"Yeah," He chuckles, "Maybe you should let me give you a physical exam." He gives you an overexaggerated wink, aware of the corniness of the line.
You bite your tongue, shaking your head as you slide your free hand up his chest before letting it rest on his shoulder. He's quick to pull you back to him, his hand now trailing below your waist, lightly grazing your ass.
"So beautiful tonight," His eyes trail you up and down, taking note of your entire body and just how little what you had been wearing left to his imagination.
"Had to dress up, I'm supposed to be meeting someone special here tonight." Your words are passive, teasing.
"Oh yeah?" He raises an eyebrow, his grip tightening on where his hand laid on your ass, "Must be a lucky guy."
"Mhm," You hum, though you doubt he can hear it over the music, "Kind of hoping he'd rather take this outfit off of me, though."
Joost tilts his head forward, his lips brushing your ear,
"Well- I can't speak for this someone special, but I can tell you I'd love nothing more." His voice is low and seductive but his proximity to you makes his words clear even with the sound of the club around you.
You push yourself forward, grinding your hips against the buckle of his belt.
"Maybe that can be arranged," You place a small kiss to his neck before biting at his earlobe.
You feel the tip of Joost's hands grabbing at the hem of your skirt, pulling it up slightly- had you not been so desperate for him by this point you would have slapped his hand, teasingly chastizing him for being so dirty, but you let him continue. He had only pulled your skirt up a little just barely exposing some of your ass before he palmed at the supple flesh, fingers trailing towards your inner thighs.
Your back arches into his touch, forcing your chests even closer together. Your movement forces his fingers to just barely graze the crotch of your panties, his hand now fully under your skirt. A whispered, "Fuck," leaves your mouth at his gentle touch. God this all felt so dirty.
With his head still lowered by your neck, Joost began kissing lightly, his hand not leaving from where it pressed between your thighs. You attempt to play off the subtle movement of your hips as if you're swaying to the beat, though it's all a desperate attempt to feel some friction against Joost's hand.
Your body feels tense, your arousal becoming pent up as Joost continues to kiss at your neck. You're so wrapped up in the moment you nearly forget there's an entire crowd around you, but you were sure no one was exactly interested in what had been going on between you two.
Some more mumbled curses fall from your lips before Joost looks up from where his head had been buried in your neck, his hand falling from your thighs. You pout at the lack of contact.
"Come on," His tone is almost aggressive as he pulls your hand, leading towards the back of the club. He's determined as he pushes through the crowd, bringing you to the bathroom, its small, and dark, a singular light illuminating the tiny room over the sink.
Joost just about rips the drink from your hand, slamming both of your glasses onto the skin counter before returning to you. You share a knowing glance between the two of you, before he pushes you against the tiled wall, his lips devouring yours in a hungry kiss.
It isn't long before he's feeling you up, his hands moving up and down your sides, eager just to have you in his grasp.
His hands trail down to your skirt, lifting the fabric up to your waist before he nudges his knee in between your legs, urging you to part them for him and you're quick to oblige. As soon as your legs are opened, just a little he's reaching for the fabric of your panties, pulling them to the side.
The tip of his pointer finger lightly brushes your clit, forcing you to exhale a light whimper between kisses. He doesn't waste too much time teasing you, an unlocked club restroom was not exactly the ideal place for long, drawn-out lovemaking. Instead, he presses harder, drawing circles against your swollen bundle of nerves.
The feeling of his fingers mixed with his rough kisses is absolutely heavenly. His fingers trail a little further back, collecting your slick before returning to your clit, and you gasp at his fluid motions.
"I've barely touched you," He muses, his lips parting from yours for an instant. You didn't have it in you to feel ashamed for how wet you had grown in such a short amount of time.
"Need you," You mumble
"C'mon, you've got me," Joost pulls away from you completely, leaving you gasping as he steps away. He cocks his head, motioning you towards the sink to command you to stand over there.
You nod, taking a few steps to the side, meeting the sink's counter, and you stare at yourself in the mirror before flicking your eyes to Joost's reflection as he walks over to you.
He places a hand on your upper back, urging you to bend over the sink. You bite your lip, slowly leaning forward, resting your elbows and forearms on the counter.
Joost's hand trails down your back, to your ass, giving it a light slap before squeezing tightly, the feeling of his fingernails pushing into your flesh making a small yelp leave your mouth.
But his hand quickly drops, and you can hear the metal clinking of his belt coming undone. The simple sound fills you with excitement, a tightness growing in your lower stomach at what you know what was going to happen next.
You watch intently in the mirror as he pulls down his pants and underwear to just about his mid-thighs, but you can't see much past that with you being in front of him. But you can certainly feel as his hardened cock springs loose from the confines of his clothes, the tip grazing your upper thigh.
He lightly kicks the inside of both your feet, spreading your legs a little further as he strokes his cock behind you. A hand comes to your waist, and Joost leans forward,
"Ready for me schatje?" He grumbles into your ear.
You can't do much in the way of biting your lip and nodding, you had been more than ready.
He lets out a deep exhale as you feel the tip of his cock graze your puffy folds. His free hand coming to your upper thigh to spread you open for him. Gently, he's pushing himself into you, your eyes shutting tight as you have to readjust to his size. You take in the familiar stretch as he bottoms out in you, pausing for a moment before pulling out so just the head stays inside you. He continued these slow, teasing motions until it was almost painful how bad you needed him.
"Please," You whimper out, your head hanging low.
He doesn't make you beg much further before both of his hands are on your waist, forcing you down onto him as he thrusts into you at a faster pace now. The small room echoes with the dirty sounds of each thrust in and out.
He's much more aggressive than he had been last night- but you couldn't complain, not at the sensation of his cock hammering deep inside you. A sharp moan leaves your lips with each of his movements.
Oddly enough, knowing that someone could walk in at any time and catch what the two of you were doing only added to the arousal you felt. You were sure at this point if Joost insisted on fucking you in front of an audience you'd probably let him.
Some praises in Dutch leave Joost's mouth that you can't quite understand, but they make you feel like you're melting nonetheless. A hand snakes up your side to your neck, lightly gripping at your throat as he continues drilling into you.
"Look at yourself, liefje." He grunts, but you barely have the strength to pick your head up from where it hangs. He sighs, his hand loosening from your throat to your chin, forcing you to look up into the mirror.
You can't help but look at Joost instead, biting his lip, face contorting with each forward thrust. Watching Joost as he fucked into you was what was beginning to send you over the edge, your legs starting to tremble beneath you, your cunt beginning to spasm around the length of his cock.
"i-I'm close," You stutter, feeling the tightness inside you beginning to reach a shattering point.
"That's oka-fuck- cum for me,"
It doesn't take you long for you to obey his words, your orgasm smacking into you with a force you fear may knock you out. Joost's hand leaves your chin, instead, he reaches down to your clit, rubbing the swollen bud to help you through your orgasm.
The stimulation is enough to make you scream while your pussy clenches, spilling your release onto Joost's cock.
Your orgasm, however, did not deter Joost from maintaining the same pace he'd been fucking you at. Your body slumped over the sink counter while he continued to thrust into you at whatever speed felt right to him, his finger still drawing harsh circles to your clit.
A few tears slip down your cheeks due to the overstimulation, overwhelmed with an intense amount of pleasure that you weren't sure you had ever experienced before.
"Just a little longer," Joost assures, his breath losing a pace as his thrusting becomes wilder and more sloppy.
Soon enough he's spilling into you, his warm seed coating your walls with an animalistic groan. His head falls back as he fucks into you a few more times before finally stopping.
He's slow to pull out of you, leaving you whining as you feel the full length of his cock exit you once more. But as soon as he's out he's quick to pull up your panties, his release slowly dripping out of your cunt onto the crotch of the fabric.
You're still slumped over the sink as Joost buckles his belt before pulling down your skirt to cover you.
"Fuck," He grunts, "I need a smoke."
By the time you had found yourself back in Joost's hotel room, you had lost track of how many drinks you'd had that night. The warmly lit room felt like it had been spinning as you laid back against the thick comforter of the hotel bed. Uncomfortable was certainly an accurate word to describe how you had been feeling. Far too drunk, makeup smudged on your face, your clothes too tight on your body. You groaned as you shut your eyes, cursing yourself for not knowing your limits.
You heard a chuckle from somewhere beside you, followed by the balcony door closing. A mild scent of cigarette smoke filled the air, and you had figured Joost had just gotten back inside from smoking another cigarette.
"I think it's time for someone to go to bed," He chuckles once more
"I'll be able to sleep once the room stops spinning," You moan, rolling onto your side.
"Let me get you something to wear."
You can hear Joost shuffling around, unzipping a suitcase and digging through clothes.
"C'mon," He says a few minutes later, his hand grazing your calf, "I'll help you get changed."
Your eyes flutter open, rolling back onto your back to look at him. You sigh,
"Can't get up."
"That's okay," He laughs, You can tell by the look on his face that he's drunk too, the way his eyelids hang, and his cheeks glow a pretty shade of pink- but he's clearly more coherent than you are despite having drank more than you did. He places a gentle hand on your thigh, "Can I take your skirt off?" There's no hint of sensuality in his voice, clear he just wants to help you get into something more comfortable.
You grumble out a yes in response, resulting in Joost pulling the skirt down the length of your legs,
"Are you comfortable in these?" His finger ghosts over the waistband of your underwear.
You shake your head no.
"Can I take them off?"
Yes.
Your panties follow your skirt, falling in a pile at the foot of the bed. Your top was the next to go, your lashes fluttering as your eyes opened at the feeling of Joost's hands brushing your stomach, lightly tickling you.
"Sorry," Joost grins, looking down at you as he lifts your top over your head.
The cold hotel blows onto you and you're suddenly aware of just how exposed you are. Embarrassed, you roll over to face away from Joost, not wanting to make any further eye contact with him while being so naked.
"No need to be embarrassed, schatje," He says sweetly- it was like he could read your mind, his palm rubbing against your back to comfort you. "You need me to get you dressed,"
You mumble out a no in response, feeling bad for how much he had already helped you thus far.
"Okay, here you go." You hear Joost drop the clothes he had gotten for you onto the bed, prompting you to roll over to put them on.
A smile instinctively formed at the first article of clothing you saw, one you had recognized. He had given you a pair of his boxers to wear- the ones with his name embroidered onto the waistband. It seemed a strangely intimate move, but you had figured it was probably the first thing he had pulled from his suitcase- not daring to see it as anything past that.
You quickly slip on the clothes he had given you, pulling a simple white t-shirt over your head before eagerly getting back into bed. You crawled further up the length of the bed, grabbing the comforter from its nicely made position, and getting under it.
Laying on your back, your eyelids threatening to close completely any second, you watch as Joost strips down to his underwear, tossing his discarded clothes somewhere in the room.
The bed dips as Joost climbs in next to you, quickly shutting off the lamp on the bedside table as he does so.
Had you been sober you probably would have kept the distance between the two of you, only using Joost's bed as a place to sleep and not as an excuse to get close to him- but something in your drunk mind almost made you instinctively turn onto the side and snuggle into him.
He didn't seem to mind, actually, as your cheek nuzzled into his bare chest. He wrapped an arm around your back, pulling you a little tighter to him, affirming you hadn't done anything wrong by attempting to cuddle up to him.
You feel yourself drifting off, the subtle bumps of his heartbeat gently lulling you off to sleep as your breathing slows. Joost must have caught how quickly you seemed to be dozing off, humming contently before speaking softly,
"Slaap lekker," He sighs, the last thing you remember before finally being consumed by sleep is Joost pressing his lips to the crown of your head in a soft kiss.
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im not sure what it ia, but i LOVE the little remora. i love it i love it i lvoe it
it makes me insane id love to groom ghosts scales, and everyone elses scales. i want to clean soap up, even if he see's poor ol remora as a toy to play with, i just wanna scrub them all up!
(i love this already. i love mer's)
the more shark mer Ghost pushes you away the more you wanna take care of him so so bad <3
you find yourself pouting a lot at Ghost’s surly attitude, darting up and down his big scarred body, as he tries to nap. tries to, but can’t.
it has nothing to do with you. he has these bouts of insomnia. but they make his temper real short.
regardless! you insist he needs to let you groom him. it’s been days. you get twitchy when he makes you skip your daily grooming with him. the rituals. the rituals are intricate.
“i’m trying to rest, you little pest,” he growls. "come back later. or not at all."
you tell him (tartly) that he said that yesterday and the day before.
“i meant it then and i mean it now. go away before i decide to chase you off.”
like he would. he hardly exists during the day as anything but a grumpy seafloor log. you swear you’ve seen bottom-feeders start nibbling on him he’s so inert.
(nibbling on him is your job.)
you settle down on the sand next to him on your stomach. you don't touch him yet, but he's just within reach. you stare at his pale, scarred sharkshin with bright eyes, practically vibrating in place.
he can feel your eyes on him. worse—he can feel the impatient flicking of your tail fin agitating the water as you stare at him. how can such a small creature be so terribly full of want, he wonders. your anxious energy is like too much salt in his gills.
“i will bite you," he warns. “i’m not in the mood.”
rationally, you know he doesn't like to be touched sometimes, no matter how you insist he'll feel better once he's clean. and still your anxious mind won't calm down until you're absolutely sure you've made yourself useful.
you lay your palms on the silt, fingers inching silently closer to him.
he growls, low and dangerous. the one that means he’s run out of patience and is about to make good on his threats.
you jolt and flatten yourself against the sand in instinctive submission. you’re not a threat, see? you’re harmless. you’re basically just a little piece of seaweed, c’mon.
your instant compliance does nothing to calm him. if anything, the sight of your immediate surrender drives him to double down.
he grabs you by the by the nape of your neck and lifts you up to eye level. “i warned you not to touch me.”
your stupid little heart leaps because all his attention is on you now. you want to wrap your hands around his eagerly, want to reach out and touch his chest. but you can only get close enough to skim his chest with your clawtips.
the sensation only makes him tense.
you quickly bring your hands in and wring them, trying to stop being a bother. "please can i—"
he glares down at you, teeth bared. “no,” he snaps. cold, firm, immediate.
but the more he tries to repel you, the more desperately you want to please him. to get back into his good graces. you feel every bit the creature full of anxiety and neuroses he thinks you are--always trying to figure out how to feel useful and stay on the other mers' good side.
he can see that in your eyes—the desperate need to be useful. it’s what he hates most about you. he can't stand how compliant you are at this moment. how desperate. how eager you are to please even after he's been nothing but cruel to you.
he squeezes you. your body thrums nervously in his grip.
“you little parasite. what part of ‘don’t touch me’ is so hard for you to understand?”
all of it. you stare up at him with big, blank eyes.
“you can't get the simplest instructions through your thick skull, can you?"
you shake your head (kind of, best you can) in his grip as a shameless display of agreement. he’s right, you’re stupid. so stupid.
Ghost scowls. eager, willing to degrade yourself at the smallest fucking thing.
"don't tell me you're getting off on this.”
okay! you won’t.
at that, you see the look in his eye shift from anger to something more devious. your response is so quick and willing that he can't help but smirk.
of course. of course you’d comply. no matter how hard he pushes, how cruel he is, you simply ask for worse. you're a little masochist. a nuisance. worse, you’re his nuisance. you insist on being around him, on seeking him out every bloody day.
he tolerates your presence. that's more than anyone else gets. and you take the precious little patience he gives you and wear it threadbare??
he can’t abide that. he can’t let your audacity go unchecked.
"look at you," he hisses. "eager to debase yourself at the first sign of anger. don't you think that's just pathetic?"
you nod enthusiastically.
mindless creature. willing to let him treat you any way he wants if it means attention. pitiful.
"say it," he growls.
you do. you happily tell him you’re pathetic.
“that you are. finally, something sensible out of that pretty mouth.”
you’re wired—fucking blitzed at the mere implication of good girl in his tone.
“and you're my little parasite. mine to do with as i please."
your whole body wants to curl in delight, your tail twisting like an eel in the sand below you as he eases you onto your back.
his eyes rake over you. you are the picture of obedience and submission, all pinned down and ready.
“look at you,” he rasps. “so desperate to please me. you’d do anything i tell you right now, yeah?”
yes. yes. anything.
he leans in and puts his mouth to your ear. "then let me sleep."
then he’s gone.
you lay in the sand in blank, sexually charged confusion.
by the time you slap your tail into the sand to twist yourself up into the water, half-flustered and hot-tempered, you see the ends of Ghost’s chewed-up tailfins disappear into his favorite dark cave.
before you can give chase, the familiar shape of Soap passes overhead, and he's chuckling as he dives down to you.
Soap’s grin widens as he watches your face cycle through frustration, confusion, and irritation.
you can’t believe Ghost would do that to you.
“of course he’d do it,” Soap says. he saw the whole thing.
you bluster and he coos a little teasing sympathy at you, ushering you up into his arms instead. poor wee cuttlefish, he calls you. lays it on thick because he knows you're looking for a place to expend all that pent up energy now.
he whisks you away somewhere more private so you can tend to him instead. groom him all you want. tell him your troubles. maybe let him make good use of your compliant nature. he tells you it’s a good way to make Ghost jealous.
meanwhile, Ghost is finally able to snooze contentedly, dreaming of you, maybe. he does owe you a little thanks for that small catharsis you gave him.
...
more mer au / more Ghost / masterlist tag
#mine#snippet#mermay#mermay 2024#x reader#cod x reader#call of duty x reader#mermaid reader#johnny soap mactavish#john soap mactavish#monster romance#monster x reader#simon ghost riley#poly!141#ask#simon riley#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#manticore-fangs
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The art of pleasure ch.1
Caress ° Bang Chan
When one girl in your class makes fun of you for being a virgin at a party, you are left distraught. It's only natural that you decide to whine about it to your best friend, Bang Chan; but he does more than lending a shoulder to cry on, he comes up with a solution. He and his 7 friends will help you and teach you all about the pleasure of the flesh. What could go wrong?
Genre: College AU, SMUT 18+ ONLY wc: 1431
Warnings: fraternity skz, inexperienced reader, experienced chan and stray kids, kissing, frat party, a bitch, insecurities
The art of pleasure masterlist
A/N: Hello, thank you so much for the support on this series!! This chapter is pretty tame BUT IT IS THE FIRST, so don't worry about it!! Channie girls don't worry he's gonna get some later ;)
Another semester. Another party at the only frat house on campus, it was nothing out of the ordinary. The usual room filled with flowing alcohol and the usual people, dancing to the usual songs. You’re sure it might be the idea of fun of some of the people that surrounded you but not yours, obviously not yours. That was why you were the only unusual thing in there. You weren’t a party animal, you weren’t so extroverted as to go to a party to have fun. Unfortunately it was also your best friend’s birthday who happened to be the president of the fraternity, so you really couldn’t have said no to his invitation.
The scene in front of you shifted. A drunk girl started approaching you.
“Oh my god, Y/N! You’re here, I’m so happy to see you,” the girl, from one of your classes, threw her arms around you and squeezed tightly. The feeling of her foreign body pressed against yours made you shiver uncomfortably.
“Oh, c’mon Y/Nnie, loosen up a little!” Alice said with a sly slime. Before you could commit murder in cold blood in front of your whole year, your two (out of three) friends pulled you away into a more secluded area of the room. In front of you laid a messy circle of people, intently focused on a spinning bottle.
‘Yuck’
“I can't believe people still play spin the bottle at their old age,” Shuhua mumbled as disgusted as you.
“You read my mind,Shu.”
“Omg Y/Nnie! You want to play spin the bottle? Wouldn't it be embarrassing tho? Since you're a virgin at your big age,” Alice fell into a fit of giggles, soon followed by her friends.
“God, she cannot be serious,” you whispered to your friends while you all collectively side-eyed the bitch. And that was exactly what she was, nothing other than a bitch. But then why was your face burning in shame and your heart racing? Why were your palms sweating so much? You shouldn't have been that affected but you were.
For the whole night you couldn’t help but think about Alice's words, because no matter how spiteful they were and how much of a bitch she was, they were also true. You were a virgin “at your big age”, but that had never bothered you until you had entered college. Never in your life had you seen so many people get involved with each other and in some ways you felt pushed aside and in the dark about this magical new world that everybody had already discovered, everybody but you.
The red solo cup in your hands wrinkled slightly under your fingertips as you squeezed it. You shouldn’t have been thinking about those things, why were you hyperfocusing right now?
“You’re supposed to collect the cups, babygirl, not strangle them,”a masculine voice pulled you out of your train of thoughts. Bang Chan, the birthday boy and your best friend. You and Chan had known each other since your first year of college, he had saved you from making a fool out of yourself the first day and walked you to your lecture hall. Since then he had stuck by your side and helped you make some new friends even if you were extremely picky with people.
“Ew, Christopher, I told you not to call me that,” you grimaced at the cringey name. He just giggled.
“I know, but I like annoying you too much,” another giggle. A small smile threatened to break your “angry” facade, this carefree side of him was a rare sight and the fact that he was showing it to you was making you giddy.
His warm hands snatched the trash bag away from you before clasping around your smaller ones.
“Seriously, what is going on?”
Lying wasn’t an option, he was way too observant for his own good, he always knew when you lied even when you didn’t yourself. You scoffed.
“Just something Alice said,'' and with that you tried to grab the bag from behind him to resume your job. No movement, he had an iron grip on you.
“What did she say?”
“Just her usual nagging, you know how she is,” you tugged and tried to get away from his grip to no avail.
“Tell me,” he wasn’t asking and that was obvious to the both of you.
“She said that it’s embarrassing to be a virgin at my big age.”
Chan finally let your hands fall to your sides and in exchange wrapped his arms around you and squished you against his chest.
“Bitch, she shouldn’t have been here, she wasn’t invited,” his chest rumbled with his words, “I’m sorry Y/N, I hope you know she’s in the wrong.”
With your arms wrapped around Chan and your face squished against his chest, with the gentleness of his voice caressing you, you found it hard to lie so you just stayed silent.
“Oh baby, don’t think about it, okay? She’s wrong and there is nothing wrong with you. Let’s go to bed, I can clean up tomorrow morning.”
For the whole night you tossed and turned with always the same thought in you mind, hoping not to wake Chan who was sleeping soundly next to you for once.It was no surprise that early in the morning you felt exhausted, your limbs were heavy and your mind was foggy, but you still couldn’t fall asleep.
“Did you sleep at all? I heard you move around a lot,” Christopher groaned next to you, his arm lazily draped over your middle.
“Sorry,” you tried to utter in your half dead state.
“I had an idea while I was sleeping,” he dragged your body against his and started to gently rub your arm to ease you to sleep. You only hummed in response.
“You should let me and the kids teach you about sex, you know us and we’re good people, we would never push you to do anything. We can take anything at your own pace, we’ll teach you well,” he spoke like he was saying the most natural thing in the world and not suggesting you get passed between him and his other seven friends. Sensing your confusion, Chan gently shushed you and started rubbing your arm again.
“Think about it, we can talk about it when you wake up.”
A witty response was about to come out of your mouth but darkness enveloped you like a hug. Chan hugged you tighter to his chest and sighed. ‘That went well’, he thought.
When you woke up, a blinding light was filtering through the window. Damn Christopher who never closed the blinds.
“Good morning,” the said man chirped happily from next to you. The moment you laid your eyes on him, the conversation from that morning resurfaced to your mind. The frantic beating of your heart sent a shot of adrenaline through you.
“I take it you remember what I asked you,” he put his phone back on his nightstand to fully give you his attention.
“Chris..” you started but he swiftly interrupted you.
“We’re not doing it out of pity, we are all attracted to you, we wouldn’t make it awkward and if you refuse it’s gonna be like it never happened,” Chris answered all of your questions like he could read your mind. You were confused, your heart (and your vagina) wanted to say yes but your head told you to refuse.
‘Fuck it, stop thinking.’
“Okay, let’s do it.” Chris stayed silent, only your synced breaths could be heard in the room. The tension was thick and full of desire.
“Can I kiss you, pretty girl? Just a kiss and you can stop me anytime you want.”
“Yes, please.” With that Chris pulled you in his lap in mere seconds and attached your lips together. He wasted no time and pushed his tongue in your mouth, still his movements were gentle and slow just like yours were slow and hesitant. His whole persona dripped in gentle dominance, it made you hot and sweat and made your pussy throb. His hands roamed your body and tentatively groped around, testing your limits. Your lips moved more and more confidently the more time they were attached to Chan’s.
Your lungs burned from the lack of air but you didn’t care, you were drunk on his touch, his taste, you were drunk on him.
Chan was the first to break the kiss and immediately giggled when you tried to kiss him again.
“Patience baby, we have a lot of time.”
Taglist:
@kflixnet @hann1bee @bahng-chrizz @staysinbloom @laylasbunbunny @caitlyn98s
#straykidsland#kpop#reader insert#stray kids#stray kids x reader#stray kids smut#bang chan x reader#bang chan#bang chan smut#stray kids college au#bang chan college au#lee know#lee know smut#changbin#changbin smut#hyunjin#hyunjin smut#han#han smut#felix#felix smut#seungmin#seungmin smut#jeongin#jeongin smut
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“I feel like I am getting fatter.”
My dear readers, I had decided to include prompts in my works as I thought this might cater to the readers of mine who prefers a shorter read. All of my prompts are my ideas (feel free to drop me any if you do have any in mind) and they will be based on my opinion of the boys :> I apologise if my writing may be offensive to some people but this is my take hence it would be nice if you could be more open-minded :,)
P.S: This fictional write is not meant to be a skinny-shaming/fat-shaming piece because I strongly believe no matter what size you are, you deserve to be loved by all! Personality triumphs over looks afterall!
Preview: An insight into what the boys think when you tell them that you feel like you’re getting plumper.
RAFAYEL
He just stares at you wildly; eyes widened, eyebrows raised to form arches, jaw opened slightly in a state of disbelief at what he had just heard coming out of your mouth. “How could you say such things to yourself?” He palmed his own face, shaking his head in suit. “You coming up to me and putting yourself down just because you think you’re chubby is ridiculous.” When he noticed that you did not say anything to rebut him, he walked closer to you, tilting your chin upwards so you may gaze into his orbs of nebulas. “You are not chubby in my eyes my love.”
“But, I just don’t like the way I look in the mirror Rafayel…” Your confidence had always been in a dip when it comes to your own body image. It especially affected you when recently, news regarding your relationship had taken a turn for criticism towards your body. You wanted to look compatible to your lover and you figured the best you could match him is if you own the body and curves of a runway model. “And, maybe, I just thought I might look better beside you if I am well…skinnier maybe?”
The man erupted a laughter, a genuine laughter of amusement when you told him that last bit of your concern. Rafayel is never the type to prey on one’s insecurity but when your determination to lose weight is based off of on pleasing his fans, he could not care less. “No my love, you do not have to lose weight just because some simpleton made some comments about your body. Come, let’s have a seat okay?” He tugged onto your wrist gently and then sat the both of you down onto the plush sofa of his. Plopping his head against the headrest, he turned his face to look at you. “Do you know back in the days, artists from ancient times prefer drawing women of flesh rather than bones?”
Seeing you hesitated to answer him, he continued on. “That is because bones equal to famine, flesh equals to well-fed my love. It is a sign of royalty. And you, I see nothing but a woman of royalty even if you do not see it yourself. The world nowadays are falling back on appreciating women with healthy bodies and I will always be here to assure you that in my eyes, you are not chubby. As you are to me, a sign of royalty which dates back to the ancient times and even till this day and age.”
Rafayel has always have a way with his words. That is the reason why you fell for him. At first, you may think satire is a part of his image, but eventually, you realised that this man spits euphemisms, and that his mockery never falls short of facts. He is very knowledgeable of the world and the way things work. “But if you still do want to lose weight, I shall do it with you as much as I hate working out. But no harm in keeping my princess fit as a fiddle if she wishes for me to join.” He blushes, eyes glanced away from yours for a moment when his mind flashed an image of you being all hot and bothered after a workout session.
“Thank you for saying that Rafayel. It really helps in calming down my nerves.” You smiled back at him, leaning your head against his shoulders and he leaned down to press a kiss to the top of your head.
“By the way, just so you know, I prefer drawing you in this ‘chubby’ state—as you would call it—because I think the curves of your body catches the sunlight beams very well and it makes you look ethereal.” Rafayel grins cheekily, fingers trailed against your jawline gently as he studied your features and allowing his imagination to run wild, already planning on his next piece of artwork featuring you, his one and only muse. This time, he shall also make it his statement piece to the haters that his love for you shall not run amok and perhaps, suggest a change in the world’s definition of beauty with his artwork.
XAVIER
“So, did anyone suggested that to you?” Xavier looked up from his plate, swallowing the piece of meat after he had finished asking his question. He had noticed recently when the both of you were on dates, you had been avoiding snacks and junk foods that you would never have resist before and that was when he decided to butt in to ask if you were on a diet and when you admitted it, the conversation was led up to this point. “Or, was it in your own head?”
“I realised it when we were doing the fitness assessment before the hunter’s task that day.” You explained, the fork pushing the pea on your plate, watching it rolled around in circles. During the assessment, everyone is required to get on the scale for a routine check and update for one’s personal records file. You remembered your confidence had started to plummet bit by bit when you noticed all the female hunters are averagely weighed below normal BMI weight.
Although no one was laughing at you as the scale announced your weight but you could almost taste the hint of embarrassment at the back of your throat as you stared at the numbers shown on the scale. You figured, a good hunter should not be overweight right? Or else how does one, being overweight, excel in physical tasks? Hence, you had decided to be harsh on yourself to lose weight for the sake of excelling in physical tasks and to fit in amongst your peers. “I am one of the few ones that probably exceeded the normal weight requirement for a hunter.”
“But you are still one of the best hunters among our division right?” Xavier was quick to catch up on one of your worries for being too overweight to complete physical tasks. “You should not worry much about your weight if you are actually pulling the weight of being a good hunter. Pun intended.” His pun made you pressed your lips tightly to form a thin line. It was funny but it was said at the wrong time.
“Then do you think I am chubby?” You raised an eyebrow and the blond man in front of you let go of his piece of meat and you watch the slice of meat slipped right into the bowl of spicy soup. This conversation is getting serious now if he is willing to overcook that piece of meat just to engage in this conversation.
“I never thought you were chubby. Other girls are just too skinny to my liking.” He placed his chopsticks aside and stared right at your face, cerulean orbs burning with underlying annoyance because of what you had said about yourself. “And I don’t think your weight affects your hunter skills as they are both separate entities by itself.” Humming to himself, his hand rubbed the base of his chin as he thought of what else to say to boost your confidence. “Speaking of which, skinnier girls do tend to end up meeting their demise faster than girls like your size.”
“What do you mean by that?” You watched as the man picks up the chopsticks and starts digging around the soup base for his missing piece of meat that is probably overcooked to his taste.
He shrugged casually. “They just look all the more fragile to me. Most of the ones that got admitted to the hospitals are the skinny ones that tends to get more broken bones and bruises even from fighting the easiest category of wanderers.” He shoved the meat into his mouth almost animation-like and started chewing. His face flashed a hint of disgust as he struggled to swallow the piece of meat down his throat. “My point is, as long as you are healthy and not easily bruised, nobody is going to care about your weight. But if they ever do, I know you can easily prove them wrong.”
Xavier is more of a motivational speaker type of boyfriend. Not because he does not want to comfort you, but he would much rather remind you of the strengths you already have and that you should not get easily discouraged by such a minute issue. Not to mention, although adorning the face of an angel, this boy here does make some pretty sarcastic remarks here and there. “Here, have some more meat, it might help you to lose weight. But it would also help you to gain more muscle which would be more helpful during combat rather than being a bag of bones.”
ZAYNE
“Just because you are sat down and you realised that you had ‘flaps’ does not make you fat y/n.” Zayne laid the tray beside you, taking a seat next to you in the hospital’s cafeteria. After the routine check-up with Zayne, it usually wraps up with you stepping onto the scale and the numbers on the scale are not showing your average weight anymore. Thus, your frown pointed towards the scale gave Zayne just enough of a hint for him to catch up on what was churning in your head. “Y/n?”
“I’m sorry, it just never came to my mind that I had gotten heavier since my last checkups.” You gnawed onto your bottom lip, fingers prancing along the material of your pants. “It does not help either when my colleagues said that I had gotten a bit bloated lately.” Sighing, you hid your face in your palms. “Not to mention, my boyfriend is a doctor, what an irony for you to date someone who isn’t physically healthy right?”
Zayne placed a box of milk in front of you, the one that you would always go for whenever you stop by his workplace. “Y/n, statistically speaking, your weight data is not considered overweight. Nor would it compromise your health in any manner. If it helps, you do not look fat to me.” The doctor glanced over to you, watching you as you only started reading the labels across the box milk instead of ripping it open to drink it like a maniac you always tend to be. “Are you planning to lose weight then?”
“I guess I am planning to. For the sake of my own health and the image of our relationship.” Zayne frowned slightly at your response but of course, being the husband material he is, he would do anything to make you healthy. Even if that means he does not necessarily agree with your standpoint.
“Wanting to be healthy would be a good start, but losing weight for the sake of our relationship’s image is not a good idea. I am glad to have someone healthy by my side.” His voice was comforting, his tone soothing to your ears. “I have another surgery scheduled in 20 minutes so I have to go now, but do not attempt to lose weight without me being around you. Do you think you can at least do me that favour?” He pushed his chair back and stood up, a hand placed on the top of your head in the form of a head pat. “I do not wish to see you jeopardising your own mental health over your weight.”
The doctor leaned down to kiss your forehead before he took the milk and placed it within your palms. His lips turned upwards into a gentle smile. “I will see you after work later.” And he went off, blending into the crowds in the crowded hallways. But it did not took long before your phone rang, and you received a call from a random number.
“Hi is this Miss y/n?” The feminine voice spoke on the other end. You agreed and introduced yourself, asking her what was the purpose of the call. “Dr.Zayne had asked me to set up an appointment with you for 3pm later so that we can go through your nutritional plan later. He told me that you wanted to lose weight don’t you?” You were nearly speechless when she said that. No wonder Zayne rushed off all of a sudden. He did not have a surgery scheduled, he only wanted to make an appointment with an in-house nutritionist to help you in losing weight. Afterall, he is not against the idea of you losing weight but he would much rather you do it in a healthy manner.
Your heart felt fuzzy when you are constantly reminded of the way Zayne would always takes care of you, even if he does not particularly look like he cares. “Yeah, that’s me. May I know what did Dr.Zayne said to you?”
“Not much, he only told me that his spouse is unhappy with her healthy body and that she would like to achieve a slimmer figure…” The girl’s voice trailed off a little, seemingly a little hesitant. “But he also told me to set up a 7 day workout plan for you so that you may get too tired of losing weight and you might just give up on it halfway.” OOF. Guess Zayne is totally fine with the way you look.
#love and deepspace#love and deepspace x reader#rafayel love and deepspace#zayne love and deepspace#lnds#xavier love and deepspace#fluffy#rafayel x reader#zayne x reader#xavier x reader
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Hellooo, I am am in love and obsessed with the way you write wuwa men 😍😍
May I request Wuwa Men with a reader who's a bit of a cumslut and could not wait until they're back home to get their fill?
How WUWA MEN Deal With You When You're Impatient (NSFW)
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characters: geshu lin, jiyan, mortefi, yuanwu, aalto, calcharo, scar x reader
warnings: 18+, smut, overstimulation, penstration (piv), spanking, fingering, oral (f! receiving), cockwarming, tit groping, hickeys, pleasure dom yuanwu
GESHU LIN:
You'd send him photos of yourself and texts saying how wet and desperate you were for him to get home. Knowing fully well he hates it when you get him riled up when he isn't even around you right now, but that just makes you more excited cause it means that he'll fuck you even more harsher than usual.
And that he does. You'd hear someone ringing the doorbell frantically, not letting a single ring finish before another one comes, and you wouldn't help but grin when you open the door, seeing Geshu Lin panting with sweat on his forehead, his tie loose and the coat of his suit on his arm.
"Strip. Now."
He'd make you cum for hours and hours on end, all the pent up stress he had from work would be pummeling into your soaking wet gaping hole. His cum filling you to the brim, and your ass red from all the spanks he's been giving you for disturbing his work.
"You're such a dirty slut. I'll fuck a week's worth into you so that you won't disturb me again"
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MORTEFI:
When you send Mortefi text messages of how needy you were, he'd reply with a simple "Don't worry, I'll be home soon so hold on, okay?", and that'd make you so frustrated cause you need him now, yet his best responses were so calm and collected.
However that's what his texts looked like, it turns out that when you're finally on the bed with him, his cock is drilling into you nonstop. You could barely gasp for air when he keeps going, no matter how much you try to grip onto him or the bed for support you're going to end up faltering and having tears grow in your eyes from the stimulation.
Even when your hole is completely full of his creamy white cum, he's still fingering you to fish out any orgasms that you had left in you. You'd completely forget that you were the one asking for this in the first place, but its okay, regardless, Mortefi will make sure to keep you satisfied.
"Is this enough? Hm? You want more? Okay, let's keep going then"
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JIYAN:
He'd be so embarassed when he receives your texts telling him how badly you needed him, along with a few provocative photos. You knew that he gets hard immediately when he sees you even half naked, so you took that to your own advantage and teased him.
When he comes home, he's dead silent. You'd be the one to give him a hug and to assure you nothing is wrong, he'd hug you back. Only to pick you up and throw you onto the bed before taking off your underwear and spreading your legs open.
He'd mumble in your pussy, telling you how badly he wanted you, it turns out that even though you were the desperate one somehow your energy went to Jiyan from a few texts.
When he gets his fill from your pussy that's when he's removing his belt and pants to shove his cock into you, putting your head on his shoulder to hear your sweet moans with every deep thrust he gives you.
"I'll return you all the love you gave me at work right now, so hold onto me"
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SCAR:
Forget about how you got him like that. He's already an hour home early and he's shoving his dick inside you right off the bat, pressing your body onto the couch as he fucks you from behind.
He'd groan at how wet you are, how easily your pussy could take him since you prepared yourself before hand. His hands gripping onto your hips as he forces you to take every thrust he gives you without holding back even for a second.
His hand would grip your chin, forcing you to look at him as he gives you a hungry kiss, his tongue twisting and sucking onto your mouth like he's a man starving for food, his other hand gripping and groping your breasts at the same time.
Scar would try to merge his body into yours, he wants to be one with you forever. And you bet he's keeping his dick inside you when you two are done until tomorrow morning.
"You're so naughty, at this rate I should get paid for fucking you as well"
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CALCHARO:
Calcharo did tell you that if you wanted him home early all you could do was leave a text, but sometimes you like to text a bit more than he asks you to.
So when he comes home he's staring at you with dark eyes, his hands moving before his brain as he runs his hands around you, leaning close to your ears to whisper at you.
"You're such a slut"
He'll say that, but you can tell you got him desperate too, the way he fucks your hole as it grips onto his cock, the way his precum leaks out of your hole as it mixes in with your juices, you know that despite him being tired from work, he still has stored up energy to fuck you until you're satisfied.
"Give me one more, didn't you want this?"
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AALTO:
He probably already relieved himself in the office, since it'd be troublesome if he walked around with a hard-on at work. But that doesn't mean he won't keep going for you when he's back home.
At first he'd fuck you because you wanted it, and he'll make sure he's doing a top tier job. That's until he goes pussy drunk of course. He'll lose control over the way your cunt tightens around him when he presses the right spots.
He loves the way your eyes would roll back each time he grinds on you, and he'll even give you marks so that when they fade away to the point of being unintelligible, that's when he'll know that you need more of his loving.
"I love it when you tell me how much you need me babe, do it more, tell me how much you need me again"
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YUANWU:
When he gets your texts telling him how much you needed him it makes him smile. You're so cute the way you beg him to hurry up and come home, and he will come home, with a sweet smile as he pats your head when you hug him so tight.
Whatever you ask for he'll do it. You want him to fuck your cunt loose? He'll do it. Want him to eat you out until you can't squirt? He'll do it. Want to suck his cock dry? He'll let you do it.
He believes in satisfying you before himself, and to him, he thinks that if you still need to ask him for more sex, then that means he hasn't been giving you enough.
"What else do you need? Don't be shy, I'll help relieve you until you're satisfied"
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A/N: Ty for the fun request anon!! hope you liked it!
#wuthering waves#wuthering waves smut#wuwa#wuwa smut#wuwa jiyan#jiyan smut#calcharo smut#wuwa calcharo#wuwa mortefi#mortefi smut#wuwa geshu lin#geshu lin smut#wuwa scar#scar smut#wuwa aalto#aalto smut#wuwa yuanwu#yuanwu smut#answeredbyskull#noveauskull#wuthering waves x you#wuthering waves x reader
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hiiii!! can i ask for a fic where reader (aka viscountess) is helping benedict with a lady he's falling in love with, but they're basically scheming and secretive and Anthony gets suspicious and a little jealous/upset? thanks!!!!!
Hello nonny! I've been going back and forth on posting this mostly because I don't feel like it's very good but I hope you enjoy it!
Warnings: jealous!Anthony
Word Count: 1.1K
The day had dawned, and it seemed you had blinked the night away after a previously tedious day. Your duties as Viscountess had significantly grown since Lady Bridgerton had started to hand over most of the reigns of the house. With some spare time on your hands, you spent most of your day in the main hall amongst everyone as you poured yourself some tea before returning to your reading. With a hint of mystery in his eyes, Benedict strolled into the room and stood beside you, making himself busy with the book you had just put down on the tray.
"Viscountess now, is it?" He teased in a hushed tone to not alert the siblings of his untimely arrival. Benedict always had a way of easily slipping in and out of sight, with his mama distracted with his other sibling's endeavors.
"It would appear so." You offered him a warm smile while pouring some tea for yourself. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Benedict?" Although most may not understand your relationship with your new brother-in-law, this is how it has always been since your courtship with Anthony. How you managed to keep up flawlessly in between constant banter with his siblings was just one of the things Anthony loved most about you. And Benedict was no exception.
"It seems I find myself in need of your assistance." The unusual hesitance in his voice piqued your interest. Benedict was never one to shy away from a challenge, let alone hold his tongue. "There is a lady who I would like to…pursue."
"As in courting? The Benedict Bridgerton interested in seriously courting someone? Why I'd never thought I'd see the day." Your words dripped with sarcasm, but as you turned toward Benedict, it was clear this was no joke, making you reconsider your teasing, at least for now. "I apologize; I did not realize this was a serious matter." His eyes still trained on the tea before you. "If it is my assistance you require with the matter, I will help you."
"Really?" He leaned back, head up with a cocked brow.
"You are my brother now. And if this lady is as suitable of a match as you are implying, I will do everything in my power to assure your courtship to her."
"You care about me?" His teasing returned, making you resist the urge to roll your eyes toward him, but a smile crept up nonetheless.
"Of course, I care. We are family. Now, let's get to it before I regret this entire thing."
Anthony paced around his office, unable to focus on a single task all day. His desk was littered with papers needing attention, but all he could focus on was how odd you'd been acting as of late. Your presence was scarce around the house, although your duties were always tended to. Anthony missed having you as close by as he was accustomed to since your marriage. Of course, he caught glimpses of you throughout the day, but you always seemed to be scurrying off somewhere. He couldn't help but notice Benedict lingering nearby at every event he'd been to in the last couple of weeks, engaging you in conversation whenever he stepped away, even for a moment. Anthony knew he had no reason to be envious; you were his wife, and you loved each other dearly. But that didn't stop him from suppressing a surge of jealousy at the thought of you and Benedict spending so much time together. Impossible thoughts swirled through his mind, straying him further and further away from any rational thinking until his feet carried him faster than he could stop himself as he called the carriage.
The day was as warm as it was humid; the lush field was decorated with tents showcasing various vendors as the ton gathered. You had spent the better part of your time in the last couple of weeks preparing Benedict as much as possible, covering everything from appropriate topics of conversation to enticing the young woman to yearn for more interactions with him. It had been a challenging task. For every ounce of natural charm Benedict possessed, his soon-to-be lady seemed to be immune to it at every turn. Every challenge she presented seemed to draw Benedict closer. It was daunting, to say the least, but today would be the day. The garden party was the event of the social season, and you knew for a fact that she would make an appearance today. Benedict came up beside you, eyes set on her almost immediately. You glanced toward him, watching intently as his face softened, a smile deepening with every second he laid his eyes on her. Your heart warmed; whatever Benedict felt for this lady, you understood it was exactly what he had been searching for.
"Are you ready?" He snapped out of it and nodded toward you. "Go on then." Benedict readied himself, taking comfort in the fact that you would be nearby. But as soon as he stepped forward, he felt a hand grip his shoulder and move him back toward you.
"My dear brother," Anthony kept his tone hushed so as not to alarm any of the ton members standing nearby. "I will make haste so we may continue with the day's festivities. Care to clarify as to why you are spending so much of your time with my wife?" You and Benedict shared a look, holding back a laugh.
"I'd prefer not to; I'm rather entertained at the moment." Benedict crossed his arms before him, aiming his shit-eating grin at Anthony.
"Truly, Anthony, you could not make any more of a fool of yourself than you already are." You huffed as you turned toward your husband. "May I speak to you in private?" Anthony hesitated before he took your hand and walked you to an isolated part of the lake away from the chaos.
"If you must know, I was asked to help your brother pursue someone. I have been guiding him on proper conversation topics and ways to impress the young lady he has shown interest in. That is all. And if you are indeed insinuating there would be absolutely anything inappropriate happening between your brother and I then you truly do not know me at all."
"That is not what I thought-I-You were only spending so much time with Benedict, and I allowed my temper to best me; I only missed your company." His apologetic look had you softening under his gaze. "I apologize."
"Next time, simply ask before you allow your mind to run rampant with impossible thoughts, hm?" He nodded before taking your hand and bringing it to his lips. Anthony lead you back toward the gathering to find Benedict wholly entranced in a rather enticing conversation with his lady.
"It seems like you did well, my love," Anthony whispered toward you, tapping your hand, which was now holding onto his arm. "Looks like my brother might find his match after all."
Mini Tag List: @bugnug @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @thethreeeyed-raven @ssprayberrythings @fatbottomedvirgo @fictional-hooman @sky0401 (let me know if you would like to added by leaving a comment here or dm me if you’d like to be added/removed)
I DO NOT HAVE WATTPAD. I do not consent to having my work reposted, translated, or published to any third party site or app. if anyone sees my work anywhere that is not ao3/tumblr or under any other username that is not whispersoftheton, it has been reposted without my permission
#bridgerton#anthony bridgerton#bridgerton netflix#anthony bridgerton imagine#anthony bridgerton x reader#anthony bridgerton fluff#anthony bridgerton smut#anthony bridgerton fanfiction#anthony bridgerton x y/n#anthony bridgerton x you#bridgerton season 3#bridgerton season 2
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games | 🔞
; optional male lead smut | ☁️
a/n: i, of course, do not condone solving an argument this way irl at all, no matter how small or silly, but it is hot to think about as a fantasy... hehe
The sound of a door clicking behind you as you lay on your stomach across the sofa doesn’t faze you one bit. Your eyes never tear away from the phone screen you’re engulfed in and even a call of your name renders no response. The one that entered is now huffing and rolling his eyes as he calls for you a second time, and a third, and you grin to yourself since you’re an expert in ignoring him by now.
You’re not even sure why you’re acting so childish. You remember getting irritated at him (maybe he left his clothes everywhere to which you give him the silent treatment until he learns his lesson, because he sure as hell won’t listen to you) and bickering a bit before he left the apartment, and now you’re finding joy in his annoyance since he finally knows how you feel to become so fed up.
“Are you going to answer me?” You hear his foot stomp against the wooden floor, but you only release a sigh and press your thumb to your phone and scroll down the page. “Are you hungry or not? I’m going to get us dinner. Have you eaten?”
No response from you, only nibbling on your bottom lip while hoping he remains behind you so he can’t see the grin you’re trying your hardest to hide. What is it about his flustered state that has you so giddy? Well, you’re not sure, but he sure as shit doesn’t care how irritated you get when he leaves his mess, so maybe he’ll think twice next time.
However, your plan more than backfires when you feel his weight over you, legs pressing to each of your sides as he straddles your body on the couch. Before you can even release a gasp, his chest presses to your back as a muffled release of his name fills the room.
But it doesn’t stop him from whispering in your ear, voice deepening with every word. “You want to ignore me, baby?” He nearly groans the last syllable, with his body pinning you to the couch and his hands finding their way up your thighs. Damn you for picking to wear the flimsiest skirt today. “Do you want to play games?”
He pulls away, and you think that’s that, until your skirt is being pushed up over your ass and he’s hooking his fingers into the elastic of your panties. Another gasp slips from your lips as he yanks the thin fabric down to your thighs, all before gripping your hips to lift your lower body from the couch just a bit.
“Do you still wanna ignore me?” he asks with a certain bite to the words, so beyond frustrated and before you can even think of answering, his palm comes down against your ass cheek. The first hit is light, serving as nothing but a warning to answer him.
“N-no,” you mutter, the word releasing in a moan as your flesh stings and God, you would be lying if you even thought about saying you didn’t want it. In an instant, your body aches for him, dying to be touched without warning and the simplest of his touches drives you crazy with desire. Without saying another word, he places a palm on each of your ass cheeks to spread your folds apart, and you shiver beneath his gaze, hearing him groan behind you. Please…”
“Oh, you only want to answer me now because I have your skirt pushed up and panties down to your thighs, huh?” You can see him licking his lips in your mind, each of his words strained on his tongue as he speaks and it only makes you tremble against the couch. “What was that, baby? What did you say?”
“Please.” Gulping, you allow his ego to grow if only because of the heat between your thighs that began the moment he straddled you.
A soft chuckle leaves his lips a moment before easing the knuckles of two fingers down your slit, feeling how wet you’re beginning to get. A groan follows as he watches you push your hips toward him, however you’re restrained by his legs and can only react so much. Yet the position is more than pleasurable, with him loving to watch you struggle with his teasing the moment he gets his hands on you and with you dying for him to continue.
You whimper once again, growing too impatient and now you realize the irony as he teases your slit with his fingers just so you’ll talk to him.
“Hm?” he hums, and you can hear the smirk on his lips from the smallest of noises. “Is there something you want, baby?”
Put your goddamn fingers in me, is what you really want to say, but you know he is in control and you wouldn’t dare not have him finish you off just because you snapped at him. “Please, make me come,” rolls off your tongue and it’s enough for him to press his index finger to your dripping entrance, all before easing the digit inside to earn a gasp.
Another attempt at pushing your body toward him fails and he chuckles once again, slowly pumping his finger in and out to coat his skin with your arousal. Clutching what you can of the sofa beneath you, the desire to beg him for more seems tempting, wanting to feel full of his fingers and full of bliss, but only knowing it’s exactly what he wants.
So he continues teasing you, painfully slow thrusts of his finger in and out to work you up, and by the time you’re shaking with a lack of patience, he finally grips your ass once again before easing two fingers inside of you. Your walls tighten around the digits, another loud gasp filling the living room to feed his ego, but you can’t care in the moment. He pushes his fingers deep, making you cry out his name once he curls them inside of you.
Thrusting them in and out gently, he finds a pleasurable rhythm of finger fucking you and caressing the tips of his fingers against the spot that has your legs quivering beneath him. You attempt to keep your volume under control, but completely fail the moment he reaches with his opposite hand to press his thumb to your clit. Dizziness takes over and is drowned out by bliss as soon as he begins circling your clit with his thumb, keeping his pace with his fingers inside of you and causing you to whimper in pleasure.
You cry out, eyes screwing shut, “d-don’t… st-stop.” You can hear how wet you are each time he thrusts his fingers back in, knowing your thighs and the leather beneath you will become a complete mess, but the pleasure filling you is too intense to stop, and he definitely loves the view.
“Don’t stop?” he repeats, and you would have known something was up if you weren’t soaring on cloud nine with his hands between your thighs. “So are you going to ignore me from now on?”
“N-no,” you answer, trembling as you feel your toes and fingers tingling. “No, I won’t, please don’t stop.”
“Are you going to talk to me when there is a problem?” As he speaks, his motions become quicker, more intense, and it makes the room spin around you, barely even being able to answer him.
“Y-Yes, Oh my God, yes. Just don’t… don’t stop.” You breathlessly moan each and every word as your legs begin to twitch beneath him and, even though he has you pinned, you try again and again to push your hips against him to get more.
“Good girl,” is all he says, just as you feel the tension pull so tight it’s about to snap, just as you feel the warmth swelling between your thighs, and just as he pulls his fingers from within, leaving you dripping and dying for more.
“Huh?” He lifts himself from your body, allowing you to twist and glare at him just in time to see his fingers slipping past his lips to taste you. He releases the digits with a pop and a smirk, and the rage soon takes over the pleasure that was once filling you. “What the fuck?”
He shrugs. “I just wanted you to talk to me.” And the reply has you jumping up, reaching for your panties to cover yourself, only until he grips your wrists to stop you.
“What?” You huff, brows furrowing and bottom lip protruding, until he pulls you closer, causing you to fall onto his lap.
“Did I say I was done with you, baby?”
#bts smut#nct smut#got7 smut#monsta x smut#stray kids smut#harry styles smut#bts scenarios#stray kids scenarios#ateez smut#ateez scenarios#the boyz smut#the boyz scenarios#ateez imagines#seventeen smut#seventeen scenarios#svt x reader#svt smut#bts x reader#stray kids x reader#ateez x reader
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THE PRICE OF FREEDOM | S.R
pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader
word count: 0.8k
warnings: toxic family, parental role reversal, guilt
summary: spencer and the team come over to your new place to celebrate you finally leaving your toxic childhood home
a/n: started off strong , became too real, rushed the ending
It wasn’t much of an achievement for most, moving out of the house you grew up in, doing so in your mid-twenties even less so. But Spencer thought it the biggest achievement, the bravest step you’d ever taken, and you were touched by his excitement. It was a small little apartment, open floor space, everything flowing into one and with your boxes still scattered everywhere there was hardly room for everyone- but Spencer bought a cake. Rossi said he was bringing pasta and you just barely heard Emily promise to bring champagne, so you couldn’t talk anyone out of making a fuss.
It was a confusing set of emotions, you’d been dreaming of leaving for years, since your second year at university, but guilt always stopped you in your tracks. You didn’t want to leave without her, leave her in it, feel responsible for her, like getting a good job and finding a good place should be to save her and not yourself, not just yourself. And you waited, begged, bargained, fought with all your might to have her see things for what they were and leave, you would’ve done anything to make it happen for her- but despite it all, despite years of pain, she wasn’t ready to escape and as much as you wanted to make her ready, you couldn’t. You were, you didn’t have it in you to stay even if you wanted to for her, you had to get out, for you.
“Do you think there’s enough candles?” Spencer was fiddling about in the living room area, though it wasn’t truly ready to be lived in yet, furniture wasn’t in the cards for a while so of course he’d taken to constructing some with all your boxes.
“I think it’s plenty,” you smiled and it felt more sincere than it looked, only barely hiding the embarrassment from not having working lights set up yet. “More and we might set the place on fire before I unpack,” you pulled some paper plates and cups from the grocery bag, hoping no one would mind as much as you did.
You knew they wouldn’t, knew they wouldn’t mind sitting on dented boxes, eating cold pasta, and drinking fancy alcohol out of party cups. If anything it just felt like a testament to your fate, to how rash your decision was, how unprepared you were for whatever was to come. It reminded you that you had no idea how to exist outside of your terror, if you weren’t protecting your mother, what were you doing? Throwing lackluster dinner parties while she was still ever miserable with a horrid man and no escape. It made you feel all the more guilty, and all the more selfish. You couldn’t comprehend the excitement you were expected to be expressing. With all your might you had to convince yourself not to run right back to that blush pink bedroom stained at every inch with dried tears and echoed with screams of bitterness.
You had to convince yourself once again that you were free and you deserved to be as much, you didn’t choose to be born into that madness, you had every right to run away from it. She chose to stay, countless times, no matter how many scary nights or pleating fits of fear, she chose to stay.
“I think we can paint the walls if you’d like, Morgan would help me, though I wouldn’t ask Garcia because she might end up choosing a bright green or yellow,” you met his breathy scoff with a lazy hum, stilled in the middle of counting out the right amount of bamboo forks, staring at the only corner you’d managed to unpack- the photo frames. Spencer followed your gaze, and landed on a large frame with a colourful picture of you and your mom at the theatre, only a few months ago, her smile was only ever that big when you were away from home, from him. You dropped the lightweight utensils with a sigh, everything felt wrong, you felt wrong. “Sweetheart, are you okay?” he knew the answer but didn’t know how to approach the situation without asking anyway. You hummed, bit back a fake smile that would only turn to a frown even if you tried to stop it, and folded your arms around yourself to ground you.
How a space so small, so full, could feel so void, lonely, you weren't sure. Your mom had been dying for years, not physically, but he’d been hacking away at her soul since you could remember- left a shell of her, a ghost, you’d mourn her daily, he made sure of it. Now the mourning was different, the grief, leaving your best friend, your shadow felt like you’d buried her alive and left her screaming. Horrendous thing, the juxtaposition of it all, you couldn’t spend another second in that house, can’t imagine taking another breath without her at your side. You hoped she’d follow, it’s why you borrowed the queen size mattress and not the single from Hotch, space for her, somewhere to escape to when she was ready, but who’d protect her while she wasn’t?
“I was thinking,” careful hands slid over your elbows, loving smile met your gaze. “With your power still out, I don’t feel comfortable leaving you alone in the dark. Maybe I can stay over?” Spencer was never so forward, if he were he’d present you with ample facts to support his case first, not such a simple little tale of charm.
“Please,” you’d not usually accept so easily, but you were being profiled, you’d learn to know when you were and though not always intentional, Spencer tended not to notice how unsubtle he was with it. You smiled, traded your own embrace for his, looked up at him with your chin planted on his chest. “How am I reading, Dr. Reid?”
“Not well,” he tutted, brows dipped with sympathy, eyes sparkling with genuine care as foreign as it comes. “Which is valid, every horrible and amazing feeling that you’re experiencing is completely valid.”
“I’m scared she’ll never forgive me.”
“There’s nothing to be forgiven for, you are not her keeper, she knows that, you love her but that’s still the truth,” he kissed your forehead, squeezed you a little tighter than before. “You know all of this, but I won’t stop reminding you.”
“Can we visit her?”
“As many times as you need to.”
You stood like that for too long before the room echoed with far too eager knocks, dinner was cold but delicious as only Rossi can achieve and when the cake came you were sat on the floor next to Spencer, smiling as Derek bargained for the biggest piece. Spencer’s hand was entangled with yours in his lap, head on his shoulder and for just a second you felt light, weightless- new.
“Are you still okay, sweetheart?” he whispered with a soft smile, hopeful and you nodded, instantly took the plate when JJ handed you the biggest piece of cake.
“I think so, Spence, I think it’s all going to be okay.”
Maybe it was delusion, maybe tomorrow you’d wake up drowning in dread and pack your few unpacked boxes to go back, maybe you’d stay and spend every second hating yourself for giving up on her, not saving her, maybe she’d finally leave and start over. Maybe you’d stay stuck in time, lingering between the first time he did it and the last, forever the little girl who grew up too soon because someone had to take responsibility for saving her. Maybe you had no purpose beyond that, maybe that’s what you were made for, to fix her and comfort her and stand up for her. Maybe you were the biggest of failures for thinking you could have more from life than that horror, that love ridden burden. Maybe peace only comes after and not during life, born into chaos, into hatred out of young love, maybe the idea of your freedom was as fleeting as his affinity for family. How can someone raised in darkness ever dare to look for light, let alone try and live in it? Maybe you were only ever meant to be nothing more and nothing less than a lesson about how broken people make broken children. Shackled by the knowledge that you never should’ve been, she’d left him sooner if you weren’t.
Imagine that, your whole life devoted to making up for being born, for making it impossible to leave until it was far too late. Hope and freedom, like love, is nothing but a golden cage.
#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid one shot#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x yn#spencer reid fic
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Hi! Id love if you could write anything about peter parker? Maybe fluff or comfort 🤞
hiii thank u so much for your req!! i went with some roommate!peter fluff for this one, hope you enjoy <3 | 0.7k words
You’re no stranger to tossing and turning at night, to shutting your eyes and keeping them shut hoping for sleep to drag you under, and huffing each time that wouldn’t work.
It’s where there’s a bottle of melatonin gummies in the cabinet behind your mirror in the bathroom, only that bottle had been empty tonight, which has led to your being awake even later than usual.
On a normal night, you only toss and turn until you hear Peter come home, his window sliding open, him stumbling inside and cursing at himself as he goes, and the window clicking shut behind him. That way, you know he’s safe, that being Spider-man didn’t get him hurt this time around.
Only tonight, he’s been home and in his room for a couple of hours now, and you’ve yet to manage to go to sleep.
Frustrated, you toss your blankets off of you and pad into the kitchen, the lights from the city outside your windows guiding you over. You try to be quiet as you grab a glass from the cupboard and fill it with water, as if it’ll do anything to help.
No matter how quiet you are, though, Peter knows something’s going on.
His senses have always seemed to pick up on you more so than others, and though he tries to convince himself it’s just because you’re his roommate, he knows deep down that it’s because he likes you far more than on a roommate level.
The Spider-man side of him knows that too, which is why his eyes blink open in his bed as soon as you’re out of your own. Even in his sleep, there’s a part of Peter that keeps track of you, alerting him if the slightest thing is off. This time, it’s that you’re in the kitchen at 3 in the morning rather than in bed.
He rubs his eyes before tossing his blankets away from his body the same way you had only a minute ago, and heading out into the kitchen to find you.
You’re perched on the counter when he walks in, your feet kicking lightly beneath you. You’re staring down at your knees until you hear Peter’s sleepy voice gently calling your name, and your head picks up to look at him.
He’s got nothing but a pair of plaid pajama pants on, and your eyes trail down his bare chest for a moment before you catch yourself. You always seem to forget how fit he is under his clothes, how the lines of his abs cut through his stomach in a way that somehow still makes him look soft, but never ever weak.
You flick your eyes back up to his face and hope the dark had kept your ogling hidden. “Shit, Peter. Did I wake you? Sorry-”
“No, you didn’t,” he says, walking over to lean back on the island in front of you. “My, uh, senses did. Wanted to see if something was wrong.”
Peter’s arm flexes as he scratches the back of his neck—a nervous habit of his you’ve picked up on—and your heart squeezes a bit at the thought of him caring enough to be nervous around you.
Your feet have stopped their kicking now, your hands squeezing the edge of the countertop instead, “oh. I’m okay. Just couldn’t sleep.”
Peter knows about your trouble sleeping (you share a bathroom, after all, and he’s seen your meds in there), and all he wants to do is help you in any way he can. It’s all he ever wants to do, really.
“Wanna watch a movie?” he asks, fingers drumming on the countertop behind him. “Help you take your mind off things, maybe.”
“I don’t want to keep you up, too, Pete.”
“What if I want to stay up with you, honey?”
He’s called you ‘honey’ before, but something about the way it comes out now, all sweet and deeper with sleep, has your stomach rolling. How could you say no after that?
Peter let you lead him into your room, waiting for you to get in bed first to be sure not to take your preferred side. He slides in next to you as you reach for your laptop and pick a movie. He’s grateful you’re not the one with the superhuman hearing, because if you were, you’d be able to pick up on the way his heart’s racing right now.
Sure, you’ve cuddled on your couch before, even taken naps together there, but being in bed with you feels different. More intimate. Peter likes it a little too much.
And when a couple minutes into the movie, you shift closer and rest your head on his shoulder, he thinks that nothing’s ever felt so good.
#peter parker#peter parker x reader#peter parker x you#peter parker x y/n#peter parker fanfiction#peter parker fic#peter parker fanfic#peter parker fluff#peter parker blurb#peter blurbs#peter parker blurbs#peter parker imagine#peter parker imagines#peter parker oneshot#peter parker request#tasm peter parker#tasm fanfiction#tasm!peter x reader#tasm spiderman#tasm!peter x you#tasm!peter imagine#tasm!peter fluff#tasm!peter parker#tasm!peter x y/n#tasm!spiderman x reader#tasm!peter fanfiction#spiderman x reader#spiderman fic#tasm!peter one shot
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How do you think Arthur Morgan would react to a reader who has a great connection with animals? The reader knows how to calm animals, from horses to pigs and chickens, she also ensures that the animals have a good food and she will always be seen with a cat or a dog in her arms.
animal whisperer 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪
arthur morgan x reader
┊ ˚➶ notes ｡˚ 🎼
this request was sooo cute!! sorry it took me a little while to complete it, i’ve been working on like fifteen different drafts at once !! 💗
┊ ˚➶ warnings ｡˚ 🎼
mentions of animals ( dogs, cats, horses ), mentions of arthur getting bucked off of his horse 😭, intended lowercase, lmk if i missed anything!!
. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄
❥ let me start this off by saying that i think arthur would literally adore you and your presence. like, he already thinks you’re such a beautiful lady and that you’re amazing within your own, but seeing you so domestic with animals does something to him.
❥ arthur’s lived a hard life, he’s calloused and struggles with letting himself enjoy some of the nicer moments in life alone. but when he finds you, it feels like all of the toughness that everybody sees melts away. all he wants is you, and now that’s he’s experienced the feeling of you, he never wants to let that go
❥ if you have a more curt and blunt nature to yourself, but you just melt around animals? oh, man— he’ll do anything to see that side of you. whenever it slips out and he sees you care so much for the horses or actually supply them with hay bales and proper necessities, his eyes will always follow you curiously
❥ and even if you’re a super sweet and outwardly kind person, he’ll still adore you!! he thinks it’s cute how you care so much for animals even if he wont say it to you, he has a fondness for animals too— except it’s more so updating his compendium and hunting them rather than taking them under his wing and feeding them 😭
❥ if you have a dog, he will love that baby to death let me tell you. doesn’t matter if they’re mangy or a mutt or even purebred, he will love them regardless. if we’re going based off what dogs you can get in rdo, i think he’d get along with a chill bigger dog— but even if your dog was energetic or more on guard like a chesapeake bay retriever or a labrador retriever, he will still adore them. i can just imagine arthur with a little guard dog by his side walking through camp as it follows him everywhere. having a dog will probably make him remember his old dog copper as he tells you tales of his journeys with him at night while rubbing your dog behind the ear as it lays its head on his lap.
❥ arthur’s not really a cat person but he won’t mind if you have one!! cats are very independent and he understands that so he’ll give them their space until one day they just like.. drape themselves over his lap and he has no idea what to do. he feels bad if he stands up but like.. he doesn’t know what else to do 😭
❥ and while i’m writing this i’m thinking of how in the game, micah would literally kick the crap out of cain in rdr2 and would scold him for no reason :(((. let me just say that arthur would literally not stand for that ( and yes i only write for high honor arthur, but i feel like regardless of his honor he wouldn’t be okay with it either way ). also why am i imagining micah getting bit or scratched and arthur just like laughing at him— like even him and your animal share a look because do you see this utter buffoonery? micah’s more of an animal than anyone if we’re being honest
❥ if you don’t like seeing him hunt or watching him skin animals, then he’ll suggest you turn away or he’ll point out something in the distance ( probably another cute animal prancing around or something ), and if it’s something small like a rabbit or a bird then it’ll be done in no time and he’ll redirect your attention back to him, jumping back on his horse and saying you guys should continue on with your journey
❥ if you need him to stop by to get any necessities or food for the animals at camp, he’ll stop by on his way back and get them the proper things they need. if you thank him, he’ll just brush it off and say it’s no problem— ( he was like two counties away but he’d gladly go back if you needed him to do so ).
❥ in summary, i feel like arthur would do really great with a partner with pets or a love for animals in general. he doesn’t get the fascination too much but he’ll support you nonetheless, as long as you don’t get hurt trying to pet something that looks cute when it’s not lmfao.
❥ holy crap i need jelp whyisa rthjrorhajgan so fne
｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈ ｡ﾟ
“shh.. calm down, boy.” with your hands held out cautiously, you slowly approached ARTHUR’s bucking horse— the tennessee walker’s chestnut coat glimmering in the sun as it shone on its back. its alarmed neighs filled the air with only the distant rushing of water to accompany it, along with arthur’s huffs behind you as he caught his breath.
“‘s alright.” you cooed at the horse, waiting until its breaths slowed down slightly before you moved closer. your arms slowly extended out to reach his snout, his eyes widened and looking everywhere but you. you softly shushed as you halted your movements. your hand hovered over the white of his proboscis before finally placing a gentle hand on its nose, feeling its heavy breathing upon your arm.
“i still dont— fff.. get how you.. do ‘at.” arthur wheezed, bent over with his knees supporting him as he placed firm hands on them. he let out a breathy laugh, tipping his head up so you could catch a glimpse of his eyes under the brim of his hat. “i dunno what he even gotten spooked over.” he shook his head, watching as you pulled out a small carrot from your pocket and carefully fed it to his horse who munched on it in delight.
you didn’t pay him a glance as you were enveloped in the tenessee walker instead, smiling as you replied, “probably just somethin’ in the grass.”
“fair ‘nuff.” he shrugged, brushing himself off before placing a hand on his back while he winced. arthur sucked some air between clenched teeth as he struggled to stand upright. “think he got somethin’ in my back, too.” with a string of muttered curses, he hunched over once again.
your head turned this time, still focused on giving small pats to the horse’s nose as you tilted your head. brows furrowed, you asked, “need me to get you something from outta town?”
“naw, ‘s fine—“
“arthur, i was heading out that way already,” you pointed a thumb behind you— leading his vision to your horse stationary in the distance, tapping its hooves against the ground as it waited. he looked back at you as you held a gentle smile on your face and continued, “i don’t mind stoppin’ for something.”
arthur sighed, his fingers still kneading his lower back as he let out an occasional groan.
he let the silence take hold on the situation for a second, contemplating his options. letting his fingers twist and grab at the grass beneath him— his eyes flickered between the two horses, and then finally back to you. realizing it wouldn’t make a difference and you’d probably get it anyway, he waved a dismissive hand around and finally nodded his head.
“yeah, sure.”
𐙚 taglist ; @maskedteaser
#rdr2 fanfiction#rdr2 x reader#red dead redemption 2 x reader#red dead x reader#red dead fanfiction#red dead redemption x reader#red dead redemption fanfiction#red dead fandom#red dead redemption headcanons#arthur morgan headcanons#arthur morgan fanfiction#arthur morgan x reader#arthur morgan#rdr2 arthur#rdr2 arthur morgan x reader#rdr2 arthur x reader#you’re a good man arthur morgan#ODOTTIE *･῾ ᵎ⌇ ⁺◦ 💘 ✧.*#kiss kiss
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Can I request John Constantine fic where the reader is a eldritch or an angel that's known the league for a while or they capture them but John knows them.
I'm a literal whore for that man 👹
John Constantine x Angel male reader
Headcanons
Reader’s bit of a black sheep amongst angels, cuz I feel like Constantine would go great with a bit of a rebel.
its honestly taken me too long to realize that lucifer from the show is the same lucifer as in the DC comics.
You had a bit of a past with John Constantine, with you being a bit of a rulebreaker amongst the angels and all. I mean, you still went to visit your brother Lucifer on the regular, even if you had been told not to.
Michael had scolded you more times than you could count, telling you not to pop in and out of hell as you please just because you want too, or to not just teleport to earth willy-nilly when Lucifer relocated there for a while.
It was at Lucifers club that you met Constantine for the first time. You didn’t really speak to him, but you did see how he seemed to truly get on your older brothers’ nerves, so you already liked him for that alone.
After the blonde Brit left, Lucifer would give you the whole spiel about him, complaining about how many times he had sold his soul, and all the trouble his actions caused in hell, and how much paperwork the blonde gave him.
After that you bump into him in other places. You like to party, you like to fight, you like to be a nuisance. And its not like anybody can stop an angel as powerful as yourself if they wanted. They’re lucky you just like to be annoying by nature and that you aren’t actually evil.
It ends up with you getting mixed up in some of the things Constantine get up too, even if its by accident because you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. You always just know that Michael is gonna be on your neck when you get back to heaven after each time, but hanging out with John is worth it.
Hes tried to get you drunk so many times, but it never works no matter what kind of stuff he pulls out of his coat. Being angelic doesn’t really allow you to be weakened by something as small as alcohol. But its fun to see him try anyways.
In the eyes of your siblings, even Lucifer, Constantine is a bad influence, and they’ll scold you for spending so much time with a mortal, especially someone as twisted on the ledgers as Constantine. You just always shrug, flutter your wings, and fly off to do whatever it is you do. Being the youngest has its perks, since it means you get away with quite a lot.
It was also this carefree attitude that got you caught and locked up by the league. They hadn’t dealt with many angels before, so in the beginning they think you are something else. Be It a mutant or a spirit.
You could easily escape if you wanted too. Something as weak as a man-made structure wasn’t gonna hold you, but you had been bored for weeks now, so why not see what happens. You do get pretty annoyed when they talk about you like you cant hear them. They don’t know you can hear them, but still.
Zatanna easily spots that you are of divine descent, but just how far up in the hierarchy you are is a bit lost to her, since they still believe you can be captured by human means. This is why they’re forced to call in Constantine, since hes the only one they know who regularly interacts with an angel.
The Brit has a good laugh when he sees you sitting on the floor in a cell pouting, your wings wrapped around you like a cocoon. At this point you just phase out of the cell to flick Constantine in the temple for laughing at you.
John is the one that has to explain that you could have escaped the entire time if you wanted, you were just a dick that got bored easily. The dick comment makes you huff and smack him with your wing.
After all that is cleared up, the two of you go out to drink like usual. I could imagine the league trying to figure out if you’d be willing to help them when times are tough, but to their dismay you just shrug and give a “if I feel like it”.
Constantine will later explain to them in passing, mainly to roast you, that you are the youngest, which means that you aren’t used to real work and can just do whatever you want, cuz all your older siblings baby you.
His chair disappears from right under him for that comment, so the league takes it with a grain of salt. In the end you help out if there really is no other way, since angels shouldn’t interfere with minor issues.
Most of the time on earth you spend with John though, since he matches your wavelength and isn’t freaked out by the whole angel thing.
#male reader#john constantine#dc#justice league#justice league dark#john constantine imagine#john constantine headcanon#john constantine x male reader#john constantine x reader#dc imagine#dc headcanon#dc x male reader#dc x reader#justice league imagine#justice league headcanon#justice league x male reader#justice league x reader#justice league dark imagine#justice league dark headcanon#justice league dark x male reader#justice league dark x reader
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Here For You
Lucien x Archeron!Reader
Summary: Lucien finds you Under the Mountain
Warnings: angst, smut, mentions of non/dubiously concensual sex, nothing explicit and not with Lucien
Note: This was going to be a part of Before & After and kinda took on a life of its own oops. It's that same reader though
Word Count: 1.6k
You suppose that you should be glad that you were here and not locked in the dungeon like Feyre was. If she was still alive. And part of you was, at least there was a bed and a fire. But the reason you were here outweighed the luxuries you had.
You were being used as a plaything. You weren't sure how Amarantha decided which male spent the night with you, but it didn't really matter. Some of them were kind, spending the night sitting in the chair by the fireplace. But most of them weren't. And the ones who weren't, the ones who spent the night in your bed... You'd rather not think about them. You almost wish you had the luxury of fae wine so you didn't have to remember it.
You pace in front of the fire, trying to keep the anxious anticipation from overcoming you. It wouldn't do you any good. The door opens, and you press your hands into your skirts to hide their shaking, looking at the floor. The male says your name and you sway on your feet, not believing it's him. Perhaps your mind is playing tricks on you, or this is some sort of magic, a cruel trick. He crosses the room and pulls you into his arms, steadying you. He cups your cheek, brushing his thumb along your jaw, under your chin, gently tilting your head up to look at him. It's really him. Lucien. You lean into his touch, tears running down your cheeks. He brushes your tears away.
"Lucien... Luc… How are you here? I thought... I didn't think..."
"I managed to convince the male who was supposed to be here tonight to let me take his place." You cling to him, burying your face in his chest.
"How?"
"It doesn't matter. I had to see you."
You nod. "Not much longer now until Feyre's first task... Any idea what it might be?"
"No. Nobody knows."
"Can we sit?"
"Of course." He picks you up, walking over to the chair by the fire and sitting, setting you on his lap. You lean your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. He plays with your hair, and you sigh contentedly. It has been far too long since anyone has touched you with so much care and compassion. With love.
"I need you to promise me something."
"Anything."
"If Feyre..." You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. "If Feyre dies... I don't know what will happen to me. Amarantha may just kill me. But if she doesn't. If she decides to keep me as a plaything for others to use… I want you to kill me.”
He whispers your name, a pained look on his face.
“Lucien, please. I can't live the rest of my life like this. I can't. I'm not strong enough.”
“I can't do that…”
You look up at him, eyes bright with tears. The sight breaks his heart.
“Please.”
He relents, nodding. “I promise.”
He prays to the Mother and whatever gods may be listening that he won't have to. But he knows one thing for certain, if he does have to kill you, he’ll follow close behind, hoping that wherever your souls end up you can be happy together. You brush your thumb across his cheek, catching a stray tear.
“I don't think it will come to that. I think Feyre can do it. But I wanted to have a back up plan, just in case.”
“I… Understand.”
“Luc… look at me, please.”
He looks down at you, and your eyes meet. You can see everything he's feeling, all the pain, the fear, but most of all, you see the love shining through all of it.
“I love you, Lucien. With all of my heart. And I am so sorry that I have to ask so much of you.”
“I love you too.” You lean up and kiss him. One of his hands finds its way into your hair, holding you to him. After a moment, you pull back to breathe.
“I want you.”
“You have me. I'm right here.”
Your cheeks flush. “No. I want you.”
You see it as realization dawns in his eyes.
“That's not why I came here. I just wanted to see you. Hold you.”
“I know. That's part of why I want you. Because you care about me and how I feel. About what I want. About my desires. If you don't want… We can just sit like this. This is more than enough. More than I ever thought I'd get to experience with you again.”
He just stares at you a moment before standing suddenly, causing you to squeal and wrap your arms around his neck. He carries you over to the bed, gingerly setting you amongst the pillows.
“Are you sure you want this?” He asks, sitting next to you, brushing his hand across your ribs.
“Yes. I want you. I choose you.” He leans down to kiss you, his hand trailing from your ribs to your waist.
“As long as this is what you want. If you change your mind. If you want me to stop. At any point. I don't care when, promise you'll tell me?” He shifts so he's kneeling between your thighs, sliding his hands to your hips.
“I promise.”
“Good.” He leans down to kiss you, his hands tugging your dress up so it pools at your waist. He trails his hands back down to your hips, savoring the way the soft flesh feels, before hooking his fingers into your underwear and pulling them down, tossing them aside. He trails kisses up the inside of one thigh and then the other, smiling at the soft whine that you make. He does it once more, breathing in the scent of your arousal. Finally, when you open your mouth, ready to beg for him to put his mouth where you want it, he spreads your legs, licking up your center to your clit. You let out a breathy moan, hands tangling in his long hair, as his tongue circles the bundle of nerves. He slides a finger into you, curling it up into that spot inside of you that has you seeing stars.
Before long, he's adding in another finger, his free hand reaching up to grope at your covered breasts. You let out a loud moan, tugging on his hair, so close to falling over that edge. He flicks his tongue across your clit just right and you fall over the edge, climaxing. He presses wet kisses to your thigh, fingers still going as you come down from your high, enjoying the way you pull his hair so hard it almost hurts. He pulls his fingers out, chuckling at your needy whine, sucking them into his mouth and licking them clean. He grabs your wrists, squeezing them gently to get you to release your grip on his hair so he can sit up.
He looks into your eyes, looking for any sign that you want him to stop. You speak, as if you had read his mind.
“Luc, I want you. I need you. Please.” You sit up, reaching for the buckle of his belt. He lets you, pulling his shirt off as you undo his trousers. He stands, pulling them down his thighs, kicking off his boots with them, and as he does you pull your dress off over your head, tossing it so it lands in a heap on the floor.
You lay back against the pillows, spreading your legs for him, and he pauses for a moment, taking in the sight, before climbing back onto the bed and settling between your thighs. You tense briefly, but he's watching you closely enough to notice the movement. “Do we need to stop?”
“I… I don't want to.” He cups your cheek and you lean into the touch, closing your eyes.
“I know, Love. I know.” You take a deep breath and blow it out, frustrated at how unfair it all is. “Can we try a different way? Maybe if you sit up against the headboard?” He does as you ask, his hands finding a place on your waist as you straddle his hips. You let out a breath, visibly relaxing.
“Better?”
“Yes.” You grind down on him, smiling at the way he moans, eyes fluttering shut. You do it again and he curses. You don't have enough patience for much more teasing though, your hand reaching between your bodies to stroke his hard cock, lining it up with your entrance. You both moan together at the way he feels stretching you. You lean your forehead against his, just enjoying the way he's filling you up.
After a moment, you start to move, letting out a low keening moan. Lucien thrusts up into you, looking into your eyes. One of your hands tangles into the hair at the top of his neck, the other pulling one of his hands from its grip on your waist, intertwining your fingers. You both pick up the pace, moaning at the way your pussy clenches around him.
His hand still on your waist trails down between your bodies to circle your clit. He's getting close, and he wants you to find your release at the same time he does. You kiss him, putting all of your love for him into it. He climaxes shortly after, taking you with him. You all but collapse against his chest, breathing heavy, body tired after two orgasms.
He slowly, carefully lays down without pulling out, wanting to keep your bodies joined as closely together as possible, pulling the blankets over you. You press kisses to his neck and shoulder, smiling when he kisses the top of your head. He traces his fingers up and down your spine, the action lulling you to sleep.
“Sleep now, Love. I'll be here to keep you safe.”
A/N: Showing my baby Lucien the love he deserves. I'll eventually post more Before & After, but I also have another thing I started writing with the intent of it being for that that has taken on a life of its own that I'll post when it's done. As per usual, requests are open! I have a couple prompt posts I reblogged and I'd love to get a couple of those!
divider is by @tsunami-of-tears
#lucien x reader#lucien vanserra x reader#lucien vanserra x you#lucien vanserra#lucien acotar#acotar#acotar fic#acotar fanfiction#acotar imagine#acotar x reader#acotar x you#maasverse#fanfiction#imagine
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⋆⋅☆⋅⋆Doc-Ringo⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
✮ Yandere! Boothill x Reader
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Plot: There's a slick black-clad little gal who's been messing with his bounties recently. Boothill's been dying to rustle her up and take a bite
⁀➷ Warnings: Yandere behavior, blood, and gore, war trauma, Genie trying to do a cowboy accent.
⁺₊𝄞₊⁺: Crimson and Clover by Joan Jett
And I don't hardly know her,
But I think I can love her,
Ah, now when she comes walking over,
I've been waiting to show her,
My mind's such a sweet thing
I want to do everything
What a beautiful feeling
It's not like the movies, they fed us on little white lies.
~💜
The first time he sees you there's a tempest of bullets rattling off his chest. Metal singing metal, as shells vie for an opening. It's all very lethal,
like the center of a rabid dust storm. Kissing death and sucking in her poison. Boothill can't tell where the bullets are coming from only that there's a dozen at a time ringing over his head. He shields his face with the metal of his forearms peaking through the gap to catch a glimpse of black.
Pure black.
That's the first thing he notices as your frenzy yields, You're clad in black from head to toe, even going so far as to dawn an eerie familiar mask. He's seen this scene play out somewhere before, he just can't remember where. "Morning mister", he likes that voice, jejune and teeming with confidence. It reminds him of himself, back when the sunset used to mean something and he could still feel wheat stocks under his soft palms.
"Howdy lil'lady I reckon you're in my way. Mind stepping aside before you get yourself hurt?" Your answer comes in the form of an aimed pistol, spine straight, midnight serape caught on the wind. He thinks you look a little too much like the folks back home -back when there was a home- blood boiling over eager for a fight. His bounty is standing just over yonder, blocked partly by your stubborn shadow. Boothill doesn't think twice before firing two rounds.
He's met with four...
He's in a cheap motel on Penacony, screwing in bolts that came loose. In the end, you laid claim to his bounty. Dragging him away to the hills. He's left growling at the thought, bested by a muddle-fudging fox. Lil gal probably ain't never even been in a proper shoot-out. The screwdriver cracks under his metal fingers. Boothill ain't about to start letting some pretty little thing get in the way of him and his targets.
The TV screen flickers to a melancholy monochrome. The films are old, distorted, crippled in parts. But he keeps them around, much like everything else about him, it's a bygone thing refusing to die.
He still likes to play them from time to time, trying to elicit the tastes of home. Hearing Nick and Graey setting plates out for dinner as his siblings rush downstairs. The movies are older than the new universe in more ways than one.
They come from a simpler time.
He'd always wondered why someone would bother painting such precious things in black and white. Spilling melancholia into picture frames, leaving everything tasting of vodka and vanilla.
It doesn't matter though, not really. All that matters is the sound of hooves on sand and bullets shooting. So long as the cowboys live their stories, everything else can be forgiven.
But this time something's off. The bandit's black mask shines through, gleaming something awful making him grind his sharp teeth. That damn mask, sitting pretty over a sly smirk. it reminds him of you, little cutie with your slick attitude. What bandit goes around doing hero's work anyway? What kinda twisted little lady are you?
He's getting mighty sick of this. Do you think you own the universe or something? "Been seeing way too much of you lately." There's sand in his Synesthesia Beacon his voice coming out horse, brittle. He kicks the head of an IPC lackey trying to drive home a point. "You getting on my nerves cutie". The ground looks nothing short of a graveyard, bodies scattered some piled. The blood paints the sands in a deep maroon, reflecting the glint of the distant stars. The last soldier is cowering behind you, his whimpers singing in Boothill's ears, one more bullet, that's all it'll take. "This one's mine" you mutter, and he wonders for a moment if the dry weather is getting to you too. "Not a chance pumpkin" his gun's drawn, firing bullets before you can even feel for your holster. The smirking bullet impales your abdomen, aimed point blank at the officer's head. But before the last body can be claimed you kick the man out of the way.
"Damn it" Boothill's anger is tangible, he knows you can feel it between your teeth. He's going to kill you, tear off that star-saken mask, and riddle you with bullets. You're getting too confident.
He doesn't notice your bullets at first. Protostars trying to act all rough and mighty. There's a temporary cluster of dust, a fraction of a second where his eyes aren't pinning you down. That's all it takes and then you're off. Sinking into the darkness and swimming away, taking his target with you.
It's only after the initial anger wears off that Boothill notices a tear on his thigh. A letter scrawled on the frayed leather of his pants. So you've started leaving your own marks, ay cutie?
He almost wishes he could feel the sting of your blade on his flesh. Feel your nails scrapping along his shoulders as he pins you to the ground.
Boothill fires at the moon.
Next time.
Next time for sure....
He's been chasing you for some time now. But catching up with you isn't as easy as he first thought. Seems like you go wherever the wind takes you and he's too busy with revenge to be following your capricious whims. The IPC ain't going to kill itself you know. And Boothill damn well wishes you'd start sitting still. He's heard from a reliable source that the IPC soldiers are throwing a little get to together down in one of the bars. Just a happy birthday for a colleague, nothing fancy. The thought alone makes his mouth water, place will be crawling with pests just waiting to be gunned down. Maybe tomorrow he'll try looking for you again, but tonight? Tonight's his night.
The neons have dulled now, they never were terribly bright to begin with. Penacony may be the land of dreams but not even dreams can stop reality from seeping through. The bar's loud, some new pop singer's music blasting from every speaker. Boothill downs his drink, liking how the ice cubes chime like a bad omen. He shoots the speakers first, needing some peace to focus on what comes next. The peace corp's lackeys are drunk, they stumble over themselves trying to reach him. He shoots each one like a kid playing carnival games. It's almost too easy...
The door is stampeded over by a heard of reinforcements. Somehow even in his drunken daze one of those yella-bellied lapdogs called for help. They're swarming the place like panicked rats, pushing past tables and chairs. Firearms aimed at his head. And for the first time, in a long, long time, Boothill feels a sliver of panic run down his bionic spine.
Motherfudger...
Boothill hears the familiar tumult of bodies hitting the ground before he sees what's actually going on. He feels you before he actually sees you. You're pushed up against his back, guns drawn locked, and loaded. "Heard you needed some help" Even though you offer your usual bravado, Boothill still picks up the nervous lilt in your voice, despite everything he thinks he likes it. It almost tastes sweet. "Best get away before you get yourself hurt little fox." "And let you have all the fun? Never."
"Certe murmur pugnando" Boothill laughs, he remembers those very words coming from a buddy of his before a duel. 'At least we'll die fighting' Somethings never change, even if you've carved out every principle from your body with a rusted kitchen knife. You'll always have those pesky morals stuck inside. He hears you chuckle, wonders if you find it odd that a rowdy galaxy ranger such as himself knows a dead language.
Well, he knows a lot about the dead.
The shoot-out lasts longer than he'd have expected.
But the real surprise lies in how neither of you are dead. Boothill's half laid across the bar, looking at you from under his hat. You're making him a drink following his instruction like a good little wife, not contradiction dressed in ebony. Gunpowder withers on his tongue, the bullet smoke permeates the air mixing with the gleeful tang of spilled blood. "Your drinks sure are complicated" you mutter pushing him his cup before picking up a bottle and reading its labels. "What's so hard about it pumpkin? Little bit of white gem and gin. All's you need." He sips your drink slowly, savoring your flavor. He imagines he's gulping you down, holding you for ransom behind his teeth, feeling your delicate little fists pounding against him. "I don't drink" you mumble as you sit across from him, you look so damn elegant, like a little princess from a fairy tale he use to read to a certain someone. You drink deeply from your glass of ice and water. Boothill focuses on the gentle motion of your throat. He licks his lips, trying to push down the thought of ringing such a fragile thing between his palms.
"So little lady, s'about time you start answering some questions...The hell you doing? Running off with my targets?" You set your cup down, eyes locking on his, there's the deficiency he's missed all night. The trigger hair that's just waiting for the right push. "They're not your targets...not really. They're just people. People whose planet got muffed up. I've been trying to gather them all in one place." For a second Boothill thinks you're talking about his planet, his home, his people. But it only takes one more look at you to understand.
"So, how'd yours die?" There's shrapnel in his throat when he asks, open wounds bleeding once more, filling his throat with bitter memories.
You stiffen, and he knows he's thumbing a broken bone, letting his finger dig between the cracks and snapping their frail linings. "Don't know, wasn't there. All I ever got to see were a few limbs, nothing enough to make a full person." you squeeze the glass until your knuckles turn white.
There's vindication rooted in your veins.
He knows the feeling all too well.
"We ain't so different you and I, reckon we make a pretty good team." His metal fingers lace between your soft skin, tracing the lifelines like an old map.
There's a goldmine hidden behind your lips, he imagines he'll have to kiss you to find the little nuggets. Your lips part, eyes filled with an odd-looking sympathy. What he wouldn't give to feel your plump lips bleed between his jagged teeth. "So..." you ask as his mechanic heart skips a beat. "What about yours?"
You've been laughing for five whole minutes. Boothill shouldn't find the noise as ethereal as he does. His anger lays heavily on his bones, he should be even angrier, lounging a bullet through your thick skull. But he finds the noise a little too perfect to disturb its source. Even if it's only created at his expense. Instead, he has half a mind to slap you, hard enough to shut you but and another to kiss you so hard you forget to breathe. "Damn hell so funny, cutie"
You look at him with those luminous eyes. Filled with pain and riddles. Boothill never did like solving puzzles. He only likes tearing things into bits. He needs you spartan, easy to read and use, and kiss. Not something he needs to piece together first.
"Dear stars you have no freaking idea how ironic you are." You say between bursts of spiteful-rooted giggles.
Why do those words sound so haunting like a ghost kiss? they should open phantom pains, but they sure as hell don't. Why do you always leave his head spinning? Boothill rolls his eyes, then leans over to pull down your mask. You jerk back, rewarding him with a dark grimace. You're out the window before he can ask your name.
"See you next time, cowboy"
"Next time I'm drawing blood"
The moment's over.
Fiddlesticks..
That night, Boothill dreams of you. He's lying in a stiff musty bed. It's too dark, even the moon is scared of showing her face.
Boothill dreams of the old saloons back home. Of their cracked wooden floorboards and the worn-out plush of chairs. In the dreams, you're wearing a black lace gown, like the saloon girls used to. He finds it all too funny that even in his dreams you still haunt him in black. Only now you're smiling, really smiling. Not that sly smirk, or mirthless grin you gave him back in the bar on Penacony. No, this here is a genuine smile and he's damn sure he's the one who put it there. You reach out for his hand, he feels warmth.
His
Yours
The dream is thick and dense like swimming through molasses. In another scene he's dragging you through the old doors, laughing as bullets and card chips hit the floor. There's a horse waiting outside. His horse. At least he thinks it used to be his. He pulls you up roughly in front of him. He's high off the feeling of his fingers wrapped around the rugged reins. High off the steed he holds in a vice grip between his thighs.
He's riding faster than he's ever ridden before, clambering for the sunset trying to engulf the sun. You hold on tight, pressing your cheek to his chest. His heart is beating something fierce between his ribs. He feels like an Aeon watching the universe collapse under his galloping feet.
He feels alive.
With the sun's rays behind you, Boothill could almost mistake you for the star-dwelling angels Nick used to tell him about. There's something poetic in all of this. The cowboy standing off against the black fox.
Dare he call it cinematic?
Boothill creeps closer. Tilting his hat and watching you flash a nervous smile through his lashes. "Volo sentire te inter dentes meos" so you know that dead tongue too. "You will soon darling, that's what I'm hoping for" his reply only dwindles your smile.
He's missed the old duels. Missed staring into the eyes of the one who could kill you. It's all a matter of skill and luck. Whose faster, who the aeon will trust?
Somewhere in the distance, the tumble weeds begin to rattle.
"Now"
His bullet glides through the air, piercing through the dust and sand. Your bullet reverberates from your gun a fraction too late and ricochets past his cheek. Leaving a juicy trail of blood.
But his bullet was aimed at your chest.
And Boothill never misses...
You want vengeance he won't deny you it.
So long as you stay by his side.
He'll tuck you away somewhere safe.
Somewhere you won't be leaving him again.
Boothill cradles your body to his chest. "I promised you blood little fox, and Boothill never goes back on his word." His cheeks hurt from smiling as he lays his hat atop your head. He's Picking you up and walking into the sunset. He knows a good ol'doc who'll patch you right up. And then it's a happy life together.
Well for him anyway.
The end
#yandere#yandere x reader#yancore#yandere x you#yandere aesthetic#honkai star rail#hsr#boothill#boothill x reader#yandere boothill#boothill x you#boothill headcanons#yandere boothill x reader#yandere boothill x you#hsr boothill#yandere imagines#yandere hsr#yanderecore#hsr x reader#yandere male#hsr x you#hsr x y/n#hsr boothill x reader#yandere cowboy#boothill imagines#hollywood aesthetic#old hollywood#hsr headcanons
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| BUT YOU SHALL BE MINE - Drabble (1.006 words).
| Summary - you've lost. the final battle against the scarlett witch finally came, and you've lost. all the world's greatest heroes are dead, except you.
| Tags & warning - Scarlett witch x R, enemies, wanda is dark, everyone is dead (oops), a bit of angst with twisted comfort (don't even know if it can be called comfort honestly), description of dead bodies, mentions of blood/death/violence/heavy injuries.
| MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING
You made a terrible mistake when you didn't die.
Not that it was your choice, you've just had a bit of luck. That's what most people would think, but in your opinion it was more of a sentence. It was nothing more than a cruel joke from the universe, because what's a life where everyone you cherish is dead?
You won't even be able to bury them because there is no bodies to pick up. Only dust, or bits of those you love. You wouldn't even be able to tell what belong to whom — Could that be Tony's arm? Or maybe it belongs to Steve? You are not even sure it's a arm. It could be a leg, or rubble. In that state, it's difficult to say.
But maybe it's better that way. You have never been the strongest one, you would've never been able to carry all their bodies homes. Steve could've, he has a super strenght. Stark would've invented something, or perhaps paid people to help him. But you? You have nothing special. No powers, no skills above the average, nothing except your luck.
You somehow always manages to get out of impossible situations. From being able to escape Nat' when she is angry to survive deadly situations, nothing serious has ever happened to you. You've always seen that as a gift, but it turned out to be a curse.
Your second mistake was to try to get up.
Maybe if you didn't she wouldn't have noticed your presence. You knew you should've hide between two corpse, no matter how disguting that idea was, because maybe you would've escape her gaze. But you couldn't think properly, and condamned yourself the moment you moved. A faint, and painful move, which earned you what? Nothing, because you weren't even able to do more than resting of your forearms before slipping, head first into the mud.
It was painful, and humiliating, but not as much as knowning that there was nothing you could do to avenge your friends. At least, they died as heroes, trying to save humanity, and even if they failed, that's how the world is going to remember them as. They will be martyrs, and you'll be nothing. No one would remember the name of the Avengers' shadow that died squirming on the ground like a worm.
Somehow, you still had that spark in your heart, the urge to fight, but it was useless. If a whole army failed to defeat her, how could you? Maybe your body knew it because it doesn't respond to your requests anymore. You could hardly move your fingertips.
When your vision darkened, you thought it was the end of your pain. It's not that you could see anything anyway. On kilometers, there was nothing but desolation. Bodies piled up, the ones of your friends. Smoke raising in the sky, making you cought violently. And that red mist, the reason for all your woes. It was all blurred because of your tears before the world fade away.
"Ah, look at you," the woman said. That's when you realize that you didn't lose your eyes, her shoes were just blocking your view. "You're covered in blood, broken and lost, but yet ...," she chuckled before resuming her sentence, "you still think you can do something against me. How cute is that," she said, her tone dripping with false pity. Or maybe it was genuine, which only make the situation more humiliating for you.
"You are brave one though," she added, not noticing that you weren't listening. You couldn't, even if you wanted. Your mind was fuzy, and you ears were ringing due to explosions. "The last one standing ..., you should be proud, you know, not everyone can last that long against me," which is why she has been surprised when she felt an ounce of life. She thought her battle was over, that all forms of life had been exterminated for miles around, but it turned out that one hero was still standing.
Not the strongest or bravest one, but still the last one to breath. She kneels beside you, surprised that the last awakened soul resides in such a fragile-looking body. But the woman wasn't oblivious, and she could feel that there was more than that behind those pretty eyes. She wanted to believe that if the last person standing was such an innocent woman, it wasn't by chance. She saw it as a gift from the universe. At that thought, a smile spread across her face. A sweet and caring one, as comforting as the hand she is now running across your cheek. The one you're leaning on, appreciating that ounce of sweetness in your ocean of pain, not having enough energy to care about the person who's giving it to you. Her thumbs brushing your tears away, soothing you as if she wasn't the cause of your pain.
"Such a pretty face ...," she mumbled, "so much potential wrapped in that fragile body," she continued, her words slipping out of your ears until she eventually straightens up. "You know what? The realm of the dead probably won't mind if I keep one soul for myself," she conclued, considering that the small whimper that escaped your lips was an acknowledgement of her statement.
With a flick of the wrist, she envelops you in that red glow you hate so much. Slowly, your body is torn from the earth where your friends lie for the eternity. The red mist takes all the pain away, but also your chances of salvation.
"It's okay, you can rest now, my little soldier," she whispers, and those are the last words you can hear before the world disappears. The last two living creature leaving this desolate land behind in a second, as if they've never been here.
| REQUEST GUIDELINES — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING
| Tag list - @m0nsterqzzz
#a spes writing#mcu fanfiction#mcu women#reader insert#wanda maximoff fanfiction#wanda maximoff x reader#scarlet witch x reader#the scarlet witch#wanda maximoff angst#angst with comfort
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HI HI james is my pookie rn too and I'm craving fics so !!!!
consider. James with a really studious kinda reader (I'm thinking Ravenclaw but house doesn't have to be specified), academic rivals to lovers? like reader gets the best scores in most subjects but just can't manage to beat James in transfigurations? perhaps one day they find themselves struggling so much they just HAVE to ask him for help (as much as they hate to admit it) and they realize he's actually not as insufferable as they thought he'd be... then study sessions (cough dates cough) get more frequent and I think you can imagine where this is heading
hope you understand what I'm trying to say ^_^ you don't have to write this if you're struggling or don't feel like it but thanks in advance if you do 💋💋
an- i have to be honest, i didn’t write this alone… @koishua posted a list of prompts for academic rivals and i used a few, big shoutout to them thank you so much, they helped a bunch <3 this request was amazing, thanks babe!
James Potter loved to get on your nerves.
The smug bastard had seen how good you were in all your subjects, so he just loved to hold your greatest shame over your head; transfigurations. That bitch.
His annoying attitude paired with his holier-than-thou perspective vexed you to no end. But what irritated you the most was how genuinely gifted he was, when you could barely understand the simplest of spells. It was unlike you, and he knew it, and gosh he loved to rub your face in it. You dreaded every upcoming test, and no matter how hard you studied, it made no difference when it came to putting the theory into practice. You hated him and his smug fucking face.
His smug, handsome face.
Before you had spoken to him, you almost could’ve sworn your heart jumped in your chest a little. Before he had opened his fat gob, you’d almost thought you actually found him sufferable. Oh how wrong you’d been.
“Exam coming up, sweetheart. I can’t wait to rub my superiority in your face, again!” You rolled your eyes as James took his respective seat next to you. Regrettably, you’d allowed him to be your seatmate, the first day of lessons your eyes following him as he smoothly slid down on the shared desk next to you. You didn’t realise, at the time, just what you were getting yourself in for.
“Oh shut it, Potter, this time is the time I get you back, just you wait.” You spat his name out with as much venom as you could fathom, before he let out a surprisingly loud laugh at your words.
“Please, oh I’d love to see that!” The bastard. You’d show him, you just had to.
The next day was the first time where this pointless rivalry had faltered, it almost made you like him. Almost. You were sick, in bed all day with a flu that was going around. It was hardly anything serious, you weren’t exactly bedridden, but you didn’t want to pass it on to any of your respective classmates (although you wouldn’t mind poisoning a certain one).
It was late afternoon, just after last period, when a certain displeasing bespectacled boy was at your dorm room door, rasping a melodious knock that tore a groan from your throat.
“Come in!” He peeked his head around the door, a cheery expression faltering at your state, before coming back tenfold, a detail you missed having your arm thrown over your eyes.
“You had no right to get sick!” He all but whined. You looked at him incredulously, baffled by his sudden outburst.
“Who am I supposed to annoy now?”
“Well I didn’t mean to get sick!” You reply, exasperated by his antics, and the annoying tone his voice was piercing your brain with.
He smirked at you, happy you still had your argumentative nature with him, even in your state, before handing you a bundle of parchment.
“Uh, here.” He gives you a lopsided grin, best he could muster for you right now, before clasping his hands behind his back, rocking himself back and forth from the balls to the heels of his feet.
Upon reading the parchment, you instantly knew what he’d done. You furrowed your brows upon glancing over his notes (in aggravatingly nice handwriting, might you add).
“What, and the joke is they’re all wrong or something?” you say, clearly irritated, waiting for him to get to the point, hit you with the punchline.
“No! No, I just, um, want my win to be a fair one, you know? Can’t have you falling behind, can we?” By this point, his feet had planted firmly beside your bed, hand going up to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly.
“I, uh, used my best handwriting and everything. I know you always complain about how ‘illegible’ it is so I, y’know, wanted to make sure you could read them…” he says, his hand then gesturing to the aforementioned papers in your grasp. All you could do was stare at them, trying to figure out his real intentions. James Potter wouldn’t just do something nice for you, would he?
Upon your silence, his brain scrambles to fill it, “You can read it, right?”. You feel a smile fighting onto your face, a genuine, stupid smile trying to unabashedly show itself.
“Uh, yeah, yeah I can read it, idiot. Um seriously, I- thank you?”
“Wow, don’t have to sound so genuine.”
“No, James, seriously, it, um, it means a lot…” your eyes stick onto the post at the end of your bed, your duvet suddenly feeling suffocatingly warm.
James can’t help but feel stunned at your use of his actual name. It felt silly, but he could feel your resolve crashing down before him, it made his own rear its head into the room, before he heard your door open, signalling his departure.
“Right, well I’ll, uh, see you later.” He gives you his best grin, teeth and all, before scooting past your friend to go back to his friends, a confusing blush covering his cheeks. Shit.
Your next lesson back, you couldn’t help but feel your anger tenfold. You had read over his notes and, for fucks sake, they were amazing. You already had a better understanding of the subject just after two, maybe three sides of parchment. I mean wow, what a dickhead. A super smart, super hot dickhead. You took your spot next to him, not daring to give him a glance.
“Woah, you’re awfully quiet. Finally realise I’m so much better than you at this?” He turns to you, smug smirk on his lips that you just wanna smack (kiss) off his stupid face. You turn to him as well, so suddenly that he almost flinches.
“Teach me.”
It certainly wasn’t what he was expecting you to say, but if it led to you here, now, like this, then boy was he glad. You were sitting practically thigh to thigh in the library after school, you requesting his help right up until dinner (or however much of it you could take until then).
After around two hours of his help, you hated to say that you were already seeing improvement on your behalf. You’d never seen him so serious, not shy to crack jokes of course, but you could tell he was genuinely trying to help you. There were points where you couldn’t help but get distracted, watching his hands run over the pages, using them to further drive his points home, not shying away from the proximity like you desperately wanted him to. Every time you asked him to repeat himself, he’d poke your side, asking if he’s going too fast for you (not quite as teasingly as you’d expect him to, though), before repeating himself in a way that he deemed would make things more clear for you. It’s his fault, anyway. If he hadn’t been so close, so touchy, you wouldn’t get distracted in the first place. Hell, you could practically feel his breath on your neck. Despicable. You could only pray he couldn’t feel your heart rate speeding up, body temperature rising. If he knew the reason for your getting distracted, he sure as hell wasn’t showing it, at least having the decency of saving you the embarrassment.
It all came to an end (sadly) when Remus came into the library, looking for a particular book and finding more than he bargained for. A smirk overcame his face, before walking over to you both, bending next to James’ ear to mutter a quick “Sirius has been looking for you,” and leaving you both to your devices as he continued scouring the library for his book, discreetly eyeing you both up.
“Thanks again for, y’know, everything.” You say awkwardly, wringing your hands together in a manner which had his eyebrows creasing, lips in a straight line before sucking in a sharp breath, replying with a genuine, “Hey, I get it. Having a reputation to uphold and what-not, it can be a lot…” You just nod, eyeing up his face for any indication of him not meaning what he was saying, sniffing out any traces of a potential trap.
“No really, you make a great teacher.” You beam up at him, the closeness of him making your breath catch in your throat, faces so close you could almost…
“I am brilliant, aren’t I?” Moment ruined.
You let out a genuine (albeit, surprised) laugh in his face before gathering your ink and quill, putting all the parchment used into your bag and holding out a hand to him.
“Truce?”
“Truce.”
#james potter fluff#james potter#james potter x reader#james x reader#james x you#academic rivals#academic rivals to lovers#enemies to lovers#enemies to friends to lovers#marauders x reader#marauders fluff#marauders era#harry potter imagine#harry potter x reader#harry potter
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