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#rude riding hood
foxpopvli · 1 year
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skzdarlings · 27 days
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the demonstration ; skz ; jeongin x reader
requested by anonymous: you keep your hands where they are or i'll tie them up. ❜ w Jeongin? 😩 please 🥰. requested by anonymous: I.N AND ❛ do whatever you want with me, i'm yours. ❜ ❛ you taste like heaven. ❜ PLEASE IF YOU CAN BEGGING YOU
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pairing: yang jeongin/reader content info: friends to lovers. reader asks jeongin if he has ever made someone squirt and if so please show her hehe. reader mentions a bad date with a rude guy who called her high-strung. squirting, pussy-eating, riding, just a good time lol. explicit sexual content. word count: 4000 words.
masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.
enjoy <3
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Jeongin is finally awake when you return to his apartment.  You visited this morning but he must have had a late night because the flat was dark and silent when you let yourself in. You went for a stroll, hoping the fresh air would clear your mind, but what you really needed was him.  A conversation with Jeongin always improves your mood.  Just thinking about those deep dimples brings out your own smile.  
“Hi there,” you say sweetly.  You close the door and replace your shoes with the slippers he keeps for you.  You bound up to the kitchen counter.  “Can I ask you something?”  
Jeongin clearly just rolled out of bed.  Far from glamourous, your nonetheless very handsome friend is wearing a hoodie and sweatpants and his black thick-rimmed glasses.  He has the hood pulled over his head, his dishevelled black hair peeking out.  A bowl of ramen sits in front of him, though his sleepy gaze is on his phone, long ringed fingers curled around the device. 
You look at those fingers thoughtfully, your mouth a little drier than before.  Maybe this isn’t such a good idea after all…
It’s too late.  Jeongin emerges from the slumped cavern of his hoodie, lifting his bespectacled face.  He dutifully puts his phone facedown on the counter.   Pushing his sleeves to his elbows, he says, “Of course.  Hi.  How are—”  He yawns before he can finish.  The yawn breaks into a wheezy little laugh.   
You take the seat across from him at the kitchen island and watch him twirl his chopsticks.  Nimble fingers flip them around before he digs into his noodles, slurping a little ungracefully.  He swallows almost half the bowl in a scoop.  Your eyes are still on his hands.   
“Jeongin,” you say.  “Have you ever—oh, no, thank you.” 
He is holding out a clump of noodles on his chopsticks.  When you decline, he shoves it in his own mouth. 
“Jeongin,” you say again.  “Have you ever made a girl squirt?”
He chokes on the noodles.  It gets ugly quick.  You emit a little squeak of your own when he thumps on his chest so hard that his hood falls back and his glasses fall off.  He hacks up the noodles and spits some across the island. 
“Are you okay?” you ask.     
“I’m fine,” he says in a rough voice, squinting hard like a beleaguered puppy.  He fumbles with his glasses, blinking quickly once they are back on his face.   Then he reaches for his water bottle and unscrews it with a flick of his fingers.  He rubs his chest while drinking.
You purse your lips, watching him.  His profile is so defined, his jaw so sharp and cheekbones high.  He really is ridiculously handsome.  And those hands.  You look at the prominence of the veins running down his forearm, the subtle strength in his slender form, the long easy grace of his fingers.  If any man is turning women into waterfalls, it must be him.
“So,” you say, “have you ever done it?”
He chokes on his water, but not as dramatically as the noodles.  It’s a messy hiccup and he dribbles water down his chin, barely catching it in the cup of his hand.  He puts the bottle aside and wipes his hand on his thigh. 
“I don’t think I understand the question,” he finally says. 
“What? ‘Have you ever made a girl squirt?’” you ask, tipping your head.  “Sorry, what’s confusing?”
“Um.”  He looks at you in bewilderment.  “The part where you are asking me it?” 
“Oh.”  A little – okay, a lot of embarrassed heat explodes in your chest.  It radiates out with rapid-fire speed, scalding your neck and your face. 
You lower your gaze.  His dark eyes and expressive brows are now too intense for you.  You fiddle with your fingers in your lap, thumbs pushing at each other. 
“Well,” you say, slowly.  You look anywhere but him. “Something sort of happened.”
When you chance an upward glance, he is looking at you very studiously.   
“Sort of…” he says, looking more confused by the second.  “Did you… sort of… squirt?”
You cover your face, suddenly embarrassed beyond words.  Why did this seem like a good idea again?  You were so convinced a few minutes ago that this was a totally fine conversation to have with your friend.  Now you want the floor to open up and swallow you whole. 
You make a miserable little sound into your palms and Jeongin finally laughs.  His whole face crinkles with delight and he laughs so hard that it sounds like he can barely breathe.
“Don’t laugh at me!” you wail. 
“I’m not, I’m not,” he lies, because he is laughing his ass off while he says it.  “Come on, it’s fine.  Stop hiding.” 
He reaches across the counter for you.  You jerk away, mewling pathetically, which just makes him laugh again.  He eventually uses both hands to peel apart your death grip.  You still avoid his gaze, staring down at the counter, but he dips his head to chase your eyes. 
“There you are,” he says when your gazes meet.  “Crazy girl!  Ask me again.” 
“I forgot the question,” you say, petulant.
He snorts.  “I didn’t,” he says.  “You wanted to know if I ever made a woman—”
“Yes, I know what I asked!” you say, shaking your head.  You see him smile, a giant grin of immense amusement as you tug at your cheeks in distress.  “I’m sorry I asked.  It’s just that…”
“Something sort of happened?” he supplies when you trail off. 
“Technically,” you say, “something sort of didn’t happen.” 
“Ohhh.”  He returns to looking bashful, rubbing the back of his neck.  “Were you… with… someone?”
“Mhm.”  You both look at the kitchen counter while you speak.  “I had a date.  I planned the whole thing out.  You know me, I like a plan.”  You try to laugh but a flood of humiliation washes over you, the recollection of last night and how everything went so, so wrong.  You close your eyes and sigh.  “Ugh.  It was going well so I brought him back to my place.  Things got heated.  He said he was really good at… doing that… I said I had never done it before and he got excited and said I would like it.  I think I just… thought about it too much.  You know me!  I like a plan!  That wasn’t the plan!  Anyway, we put a towel on the bed which is why it was even more embarrassing when I couldn’t… when he couldn’t make me… ugh.”  You flop forward, pressing your forehead to the cold marble countertop.  “He called me high-strung and left.” 
You lift your head slowly, looking at Jeongin for his reaction.  His expression is all scrunched up like he smells something bad.  Then he gestures as if he is vomiting, making the noisy hurling sounds to match. 
You laugh in spite of yourself, nodding.
“I know, I know, you’re right,” you say.  “He sucked.” 
“High-strung?” Jeongin says, the word tumbling out like a curse.  “He said that?  Pffft—” 
You are glad you came to him.  Your other friends would have been protective and encouraging, which is nice, but Jeongin’s helpless laughter is more reassuring than anything.  That other guy was so pathetic that all Jeongin can do is laugh. 
Even so, you do feel a little sensitive about the whole thing.  You are smiling now but your gaze stays low.  You trace circles on the counter. 
“I know he… he was just embarrassed too.  He was rude to me, but… he wasn’t totally wrong.”
“No,” Jeongin says, shaking his head.  “No, no, no—”
“Yes, yes, yes,” you insist.  You let him take your hands and squeeze, but you talk before he can interrupt.  “Look he didn’t exactly handle it well but I… I am a little… um, overly thoughtful at times.  I’m not good at doing things in the spur of the moment.  It scares me and I think too much and once I start thinking I can’t stop.”  You let go of his hands, giving them one last friendly pat before you neatly fold your hands on the counter.  “Anyway, I asked you what I did because I was hoping you could instruct me so I can practice.  That way next time it happens, I won’t get scared and think so much.”
You smile at him. 
He slowly takes his glasses off, his mouth open. 
“Oh,” he says.  “Okay.  Um.” 
“Soooo… have you?” 
The tips of his ears turn a vibrant red and he puts his reading glasses aside.  He takes a second to rub his eyes with an incredible amount of vigour.  You wait patiently and politely, watching him tug down the sleeves of his hoodie then push them back up.  Those long fingers swipe through his hair once, twice.  Finally, he crosses his arms and nods sharply. 
“Yes,” he says.  “I have.” 
Oh.
The subject of your abstract thought suddenly becomes a tangible reality.  You cannot get the unbidden mental image out of your head: Jeongin, knuckle-deep in the very wet, very soft heat of someone lucky, wringing every last bit of pleasure out of them.  It is unexpectedly easy to imagine yourself in their place, his dark head between your thighs and his steady arm at work. 
You cross your legs.  He notices. 
“Would you mind showing me?” you ask. 
“Showing you?” he repeats, his thick eyebrows high on his face.  “Showing you?” 
“Yes,” you say.  You are so preoccupied with your mental image that it takes a moment to realize your phrasing might be misconstrued.  “Not like that!” 
He jumps in surprise. 
“Oh my god.”  You put your hands over your face again.  “I meant… abstractly.  Draw it.  Or tell me.  I didn’t mean—oh my goodness.”
His ears are still red but Jeongin dissolves into giggles again.   Your mortification works wonders on his dimples. 
“I’m not very good at drawing,” he teases, patting you on the head. 
“Oh my goodness,” is all you manage. 
His laughter is infectious, overpowering your embarrassment until you are giggling with him. 
“I’m sorry,” you say when the laughter finally slows.  You smile, chagrined and apologetic.  “It was a stupid question in the first place.  I’m really embarrassed.” 
“No, don’t be,” he says, waving his hand.  “You can tell me anything.  I was just… surprised.”
“Yeah, so was he,” you say, making both of you laugh again. 
When the laughter subsides a second time, Jeongin sighs.  He puts his discarded glasses back on, blinking his vision into his focus and smiling at you.  After the last few minutes of conversation, that smiles gives you butterflies.  You touch a hand to your stomach as if to still them, but they flutter away. 
“I have an idea,” he says, holding out his hand. 
“Oh no,” you say but take that hand without hesitation.  “Am I about to regret so many things?”
“What?  No.  When have I ever had a bad idea?” he asks while laughing, no doubt in recollection of every combined bad idea your friendship has conjured. 
You can hardly judge him for any bad ideas, though, seeing as you waltzed in here today asking your friend if he had ever made someone squirt.  It sounds very ridiculous in hindsight, but you truly do trust Jeongin so much that the idea seemed reasonable at the time. 
Now you are in his bedroom, hovering by the bedside while he plops down on his bed with a sigh.  He adjusts his glasses and the neck of his hoodie, like this is all protocol and not remotely unusual.  He takes a pillow and lays it gingerly across his lap, then looks up and beckons you forward with the come-hither crook of two fingers.  His smirk is suggestive but playful, just teasing you, but it awakens those butterflies again. 
“Come on,” he says.  “Sit.  I’ll, um, show you.”
“Show me?” you say, eying the pillow in his lap.  “Yang Jeongin, are you… about to defile that pillow?”
“Yes,” he says, nodding solemnly.  “We’re gonna make it squirt.”
“You know when I asked if you had ever done it before, I meant on a human…”
“Wow! I’m helping you with a visual demonstration and you insult me—!”
“Aha, I’m sorry!”  You burst into laughter at the incredulity on his face.   When he pushes the pillow off his lap with a show of dramatics, you wave your hands just as theatrically.  “I mean it, I mean it,” you say, though your laughter contradicts the sincerity of your words.  “Please help me.  I’m sorry, hahaha, I was just teasing, I need your help, please!”
He tries to stand up but you block him, shuffling every time he leans.  He finally grabs your hips to move you but you grab his shoulders.  Your wrestling is a light-hearted tussle, but then he starts tickling you and you stand no chance of survival.  You turn into a flailing, yelping mess, laughing as you spill across the bed with your arms around each other.   He tortures you another second, forcing another apology out of your mouth. 
When it is over, you lay there, panting.  He is leaning over you, his hands on your waist, yours on his shoulders.   Your friend likes to laugh but a very serious look crosses his face.  He looks at you like he is studying you, discovering some detail for the first time even though he has known you for years.  It is like you can feel his stare, a caress across your cheek, across your lips.  You take your bottom lip into your mouth, wetting it.
He takes a slow, deep breath. 
“That man was crazy,” he says.  His voice is lower than before, scratching above a whisper.  “You’re perfect.  He just didn’t care about getting to know you.  And that sucks for him because you—”  His voice breaks, the little squeak making him laugh, a small embarrassed sound.  The tips of his ears are red and he avoids meeting your gaze.  “You’re beautiful,” he says, “inside and out.  Any man would be lucky to be with you.” 
“Jeongin,” you say softly, because what else can you say? 
He meets your gaze.  His mouth is open like he wants to say more but he can only stare at you.  Eventually, he laughs.  He rubs the back of his neck as he sits up straight.  You sit up as well, staring at him while he adjusts his glasses. 
“Right,” he says.  “The, uh, the pillow.  I, um…”
It might have been amusing, watching him poke a pillow suggestively.  But you no longer care about that.  The energy in this room has changed, the whole world melting under the power of his words, changing the very shape of this space.  When you take a breath, all you smell is his cologne, masculine and smoky, all you see is your friend, in his hoodie and glasses with his blushing cheeks, and all you want is him.  Like this.  Right now. 
He reaches for the pillow and you reach for him.  You take his hand and he looks at you, blinking with surprise. 
You turn his hand over.  He really does have nice hands, long fingers, deft and strong.  You measure it against your own.  Then you guide his hand to your lips and kiss the tips of his fingers.  You look at him, making your eyes big, your lashes fluttering. 
“Oh,” he says.  “Oh.”
You laugh.  He cups your face and draws you close and you are both smiling when your lips come together.  Despite his blush, the kiss is ravishing.  You find yourself gasping for a breath, whimpering when he sucks your bottom lip. 
“Lay down please,” he says, speaking against your mouth. 
You nod.  Those butterflies are wild inside you.  You are certain you already look like an unravelled mess, laying on your back and breathing hard. 
He leans over you, catching your hand when you reach for him.  He kisses your palm, your fingers bumping his glasses, making you giggle.  He smiles too, the kiss lingering.  Your whole arm tingles even when he stops.  He guides your hand above your head, curling your fingers around the bars of his headboard. 
“You keep your hands where they are or I'll tie them up,” he says, but laughs at your surprised expression before the words can settle.   “You said yourself, you think too much,” he explains.  “Just lay there.  Don’t move.  Don’t think.  Let me take care of you.”  He puts a leg between yours, pushing forward with his hips to guide yours apart.  He fits there perfectly, pressing his body against yours.  Your breath catches.   “You can trust me,” he says, and somehow that gets you going more than any sexy come-on.
You trust him more than anyone.  You did not hesitate coming to him with an embarrassing story.  You ran to him before anyone else.  You always seek him out first.
You know you are safe in his hands. 
“Do whatever you want with me,” you say.  You never make that sort of offer, but it feels so natural here and now.  With him.  “I’m yours.”
“Whatever I want?” he says, his smile big and dimples deep.   He leans down, kissing your cheek then under your jaw.  When he kisses your throat, it is hot, open-mouthed kiss, all teeth and tongue.  It sends sparks shooting down your whole body, your hips bucking.  He is strong, the weight of him between your legs pinning you to the mattress.  You feel him, firm, hard, his whole body riding the rhythm of yours.  
He has not even undone a single button. 
“Whatever I want,” he repeats.  “That’s a big offer.” 
His hands, those gorgeous hands that had you captivated, slide up your thighs and under your skirt.  He stares down into your face while lifting the material, leaving a trail of goosebumps all the way up your thighs.  You feel yourself clench, a sharp pulse of need in your core.  Your body is thoughtless in its hunger and it feels so good to give into it. 
“Sometimes,” he says, “all I think about this… nothing extreme… just you like this… just us together…”
Every breath of a phrase is punctuated with a kiss, down your chest, your stomach, your thighs.  You are not expecting him to kiss you through your underwear, your hips bucking when he opens his mouth and ravishes you regardless of the barrier.  When you have soaked through the flimsy material, he finally hooks his pinkies into the fabric and tugs it down. 
You do not have time to be shy, just desperate to get them off.  He pushes your thighs back, folding you in half, then goes back to eating your pussy like he has all the time in the world, like there is no where he would rather be.  Your legs shake, your toes curling, body held firmly in his capable hands as he licks you hungrily. 
“Jeongin,” you gasp. 
“You taste like heaven,” is his reply. 
It is so cheesy but it makes you laugh, a happy sound that rumbles in your chest, that couples with pleasure and leaves your whole body singing.  You feel like you could float away. 
You are pliant, soft and malleable in his hands.  He really can do anything with you.  It does not scare you one bit.  You trust him, following his direction when he rolls you onto your side.  You gasp at his hand sliding under your shirt, squeezing your breasts, finding every sensitive nerve as he feels you up. 
“Don’t think,” he says, one arm around your chest and the other sliding down between your legs.  “Just feel, okay?” 
“Mmm,” is your only reply. 
You are so ready for him, wound up from his dirty kisses, taut with tension.  By the time those long fingers are inside you, it feels like completion rather than intrusion.  He fits like he belongs there, curling his fingers against places you never knew were sensitive.  It is like your body gives way, revealing all your secrets to his searching touch. 
“That’s it,” he says when your breathing gets erratic. 
You did not even realize he had found somewhere extra sensitive, not until he is already fucking it slowly.  By the time you realize just how soft you are there, it is too late to brace yourself.  He adds another finger and your body tightens around him.  Your eyes close and you see stars, gasping and rocking and almost crying at the dizzying swirl of sensation. 
“Oh, Jeongin,” you say.  His name is all you say for another minute.  It is the sound on your lips when he moves you, when he turns his hand just slightly, when the new angle sets off a chain reaction of feeling.  You cry out, clenching sporadically around his rapidly moving fingers.  You yank a corner of the bedspread right off the mattress.
Your orgasm seems to go on forever, pulsing and aching and clenching.  Your whole body feels boneless by the time it settles and he slips his fingers free. 
“Oops,” he says, adjusting his skewed glasses with his clean hand.  “Should’ve put a towel down after all.” 
You look down and whimper at the obvious wetness on his bedsheets.   You would apologize but he does not look sorry at all.  In fact, he grins, looking very satisfied with himself. 
You are in a state of utter disarray and he is still fully clothed, having shattered your world with just one hand.  It makes you laugh, giddy. 
Your arms finally drop.  Though it takes a minute, you find a little strength and push yourself up.  He is smiling when you climb into his lap.  He even winks at you when he puts his wet fingers in his mouth. 
You open your mouth too.  You hold his gaze while he puts his fingers in your mouth, his breath catching when you suck them eagerly. 
“I want something more,” you say. 
“Do whatever you want with me,” he echoes your words back to you.  “I’m yours.” 
He is right about the simplest fantasy making for a wonderous reality.  There are no expectations of any over-the-top actions; it is enough it is you and him, together.   Clothing ends up scattered around his room, then you are in his lap and he is holding your waist, and you are holding the bars behind his head as you ride him where he sits against the headboard. 
His glasses get askew but you fix them, laughing against his smile before kissing him again.   It is for nothing because they fall off a second later, when he grabs you and moves, putting you on your back to fuck you at another angle.  He slides a hand between you, rubbing at you, working you up. Your head falls back, your whole body tingling with the approach of another orgasm. 
“Yes, yes,” he says, no doubt feeling you get tight around him.  It is his moaning that sets you off, your legs around his hips, pulling him in close as you come together. 
He kisses all over your face, both of you laughing when he slightly misses your lips.  You find his glasses and put them back on him, meeting his re-focussed gaze and smiling. 
“Was that an okay demonstration?” he teases.  “Like I said, I’m not very good at drawing.” 
“Maybe so,” you tease back, running your fingers through his hair.  “I might need another one.  Just to be sure.” 
“Just to be sure,” he says, nodding very sagely.  “Good idea.  Maybe after that, I’ll take you out to dinner.  Then we better come back here and try again.”
“Just to be sure,” you say. 
“Just to be sure,” he agrees. 
You are already smiling when he kisses you. 
You have never been more sure about anything in your life. 
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venuiscmind · 2 months
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Bartender!Ellie & Co-Worker!Ellie <3.
Just some headcannons for the 3-5 part series im cooking up since I finally have time to write!!! Please show some love for this as it will really motivate me to write more for this. Smut below!
read this.
w.c 1.1k
Bartender! Ellie who has you stunned the first day you see her in her all black, tight, fitted uniform. Sleeves rolled up to her veiny, tattooed forearms, dripping with the syrup from the cocktails she was shaking over her shoulders. Dark, black pants that fit her legs perfectly as she moves around the bar.
Bartender! Ellie who keeps her eyes fixed on you while you bend down to hear a customer's order in the busy and loud bar. You turn feeling eyes on you but only see Ellie turning back to pour a drink for a customer.
Bartender! Ellie who gradually opens the buttons of her black shirt during her shift when it gets too hot, showing off the pale but flushed and sweaty skin underneath, adorned with glinting silver chains.
Bartender! Ellie who flirts back with all the pretty girls who press themselves against the bar trying to give her their number. (She throws them out after every shift because they’re lacking something she can't place).
Bartender! Ellie who is immediately in the face of a man who has stepped a little too close to you and has gotten too loud and rude for her liking.
Bartender! Ellie who drives a pretty, sleek car to work and is constantly offering you rides to and from work because you shouldn't have to worry about driving yourself.
Bartender! Ellie who keeps you up till 5am after your shift texting you about anything and everything she could think of to keep you talking, all because she liked hearing you talk.
Bartender! Ellie who pull off her shirt over her head and immediately sinks against the heat of the shower but can't get you out of her head for some reason.
Bartender! Ellie who is constantly offering to make you drinks after your shift when the bar has been closed down, leaving only the two of you to lock up together.
Bartender! Ellie who has to keep her eyes focused on pouring your drink instead of looking at the curves of your form sitting up on the top of the dark marble counter. Her heart (and other places) flutter seeing you like this.
Bartender! Ellie who's tattoo flexes while she clenches her fists when you're not looking, trying to keep herself grounded while she watches your legs cross atop the bar, something she would never be able to catch if she hadn't secretely swapped shifts to be able to lock up with you.
Bartender! Ellie who takes off her apron and button up shirt to change into a loose dark hoodie that makes you swallow hard. She pulls up her hood letting loose tendrils of hair fall out of it before manspreading and turning her keys in the ignition.
Bartender! Ellie who keeps on the silver rings she wears during her shift to clench the steering wheel as she speeds into your neighbourhood blaring music with the windows open at 4am after work. (She later swears she wasn't even driving that fast).
Bartender! Ellie who has to take a breath when you invite her into your house which is impossibly tidy and she actually offers to take off her shoes because of this.
Bartender! Ellie who has to hold back her questions of whether she can marry you or not when you offer her glasses of water and bits of food you can scrounge up for her.
Bartender! Ellie who stares at you, feeling her pupils dilate and her breathing turn rough just looking at you standing in your kitchen.
Bartender! Ellie who stands up and hooks her arms around your middle and rests her head on your shoulder as you do the dishes at 5am.
Bartender! Ellie who begs you to "please tell me I'm not the only one who feels like this because I can't keep ignoring this because fu-".
Bartender! Ellie who is shocked when you turn around to put her face in your hands and smile at her, inches from her face, stroking lovingly. When she slowly moves forward you pull back an inch wanting to savour this look on her face, basking in the mutual desire that you both felt.
Bartender! Ellie who whispers " are you sure"? against your lips with her green eyes boring into your own. You nod, and murmur "Yes ellie, I've been sure for weeks" and press your soft lips into her soft and slightly chapped lips.
Bartender! Ellie who has to move her hands from your hips to the counter to steady herself once she allows herself to give into the sensation of kissing you. She can't think with her hand and mouth full of you, and only you.
Bartender! Ellie who pulls back and finds herself being pulled into your bedroom, your fingers interlaced with hers, never leaving her seperated from you again.
Bartender! Ellie who sits back on your bed, watching in awe of the woman before her, as you strip off your work shirt and pants, leaving you in your soft underwear in the light of dawn, peaking through your curtains.
Bartender! Ellie who grips your hips like her life depends on it when you climb into her lap and lies back against the sheets, face and skin turning pink as you press yourself against her toned body.
Bartender! Ellie who lets you strip her down in kind and lets you kiss down between her tits, pawing at them as you press your lips against the soaked spot on her black boxers. She has to remember to breathe when you pull them down leaving her in nothing.
Bartender! Ellie who feels exposed and vulnerable, shaking underneath you while you lick and slurp against her soaked pussy, tasting her like she was the sweetest thing in the world.
Bartender! Ellie who groans out "oh fuck me, right there"- and holds your head gently against her clit when you suck on that spot that has her arching off the bed, her eyes rolling back into her skull. She wraps her legs around your head and shoulders and begs, actually begs you not to stop because she is so fucking close to cumming all over your tongue.
Bartender! Ellie who forgets to breathe again when she feels your fingers press against her slicked and soaked entrance and push into her causing her to melt, shake and press against you to push them deeper inside of her.
Bartender! Ellie who cums when you suck just at the right time with your fingers pushing in and out of her, hitting that sweet spot in her over and over.
Bartender! Ellie who pulls you up by then chin to kiss you, and taste herself fom your mouth and brings your hand up to your lips to taste her again. She then kisses you deeper than you had ever been kissed, tongue invanding your senses until all you can think of is her and her only.
LOL i actually got so horny writing this but hope you enjoyed!!! more to come very soon i promise <;3. - Venuis!
Btw asks and submissions are open so give me some inspo plsplspls xxxx
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bi-writes · 3 months
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more childhood-bestfriend!roommate!simon x fem!reader because im a mess inside and he can fix me
more bestfriend!roommate!simon (part 2/?)
cw: unwanted suggestive advances (verbal only), protective!simon
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he wont leave. he's been sitting at the counter all night, nursing a mug of coffee that he keeps sneaking splashes from his flask into. he's gotten progressively drunker as the hours passed, but you paid him no mind, continuing to serve other customers. you said nothing to him, just kept refilling his mug when he held it out to you and ignoring him.
"what a pretty dress, love...look at ya."
"got somewhere to be after this? wanna grab a drink?"
"ya look so nice, got the eyes of a kitten...hope ya don't bite..."
the patrons that passed by him glared and told him to shut up, but he just kept whispering to you as you went by him. you shrugged it off gracefully, keeping the smile on your face as you poured someone more coffee. words were harmless, and even though he came off as a creep, he was drunk--and drunk people were stupid people.
you smoothed out the skirt of your dress. it was short, riding up every time you reached up on a high shelf. you tried not to snap at the man every time he whistled when you did.
when you made your way to the back to pick up a few plates, one of the cooks asked if you were okay.
"fine," was how you answered. "besides, if he makes a move, i dont think he'll like it when i pour hot coffee down his pants."
but he wont leave. he has been sitting there, and the clock read two in the morning, and your shift was ending.
he wont leave. he was in your way, blocking the door to the counter. he stumbled a little on his feet, and you raised your brow.
"you gonna move? youre in my way," you said finally, sighing.
"whoa, whoa...no need to get all bent out of shape. i need another coffee."
"my shift is over. get your own damn coffee."
you moved to go around him, and he stepped to the side, blocking you again.
"whoa, whoa! all fiery all of the sudden? cmon, darling, let's go get a drink, yeah?"
"listen, i've been patient and kind all night," you laughed bitterly. "but you're starting to get on my last nerve. so why don't you sit down, pay your bill, and go home, huh?"
he didn't like that. he frowned, puffing out his chest a little, narrowing his eyes.
"hey, you got a mouth on ya, pretty lady, and i don't like it."
"oh yeah? look how much i care," you snapped. "now get out of my way, or ill make you."
the bell chimed above the door, ringing and filling the tension in the room. you sneered at the man who tried to intimidate you, clenching your jaw.
"oi," a familiar voice spoke up. "do we have a problem here?"
"yeah, mate, this fuckin' waitress thinks she can say whatever she wants to customers and still get a tip."
"i would watch your tone if i were you," you spoke lowly. "he doesn't like it when you're rude."
"listen, here--"
the man raised his hand, and suddenly a gloved hand shot out and gripped his wrist, tugging him backwards.
"oh, mate, what are y'thinkin', huh?" simon towered over him. taller, broader, the black of his outfit making him that much more intimidating and that much more frightening. his hood was up, his eyes the only visible part of him, but they were angry. hard and dry and angry, narrowed as he used one arm to yank the man backwards, putting himself between you. "you raise a hand, y'raise it to me, yeah? ohhh...what's the matter? lost your voice all of a sudden?"
"i-i...i--"
"this man givin' you a problem, luv?" simon asked. he turned his body to face him, tightening his grip on the man's wrist. the man hissed, his knees buckling a little as he grabbed a nearby table for support.
"it's fine, simon," you sighed, crossing your arms over your chest. "he's just...drunk."
"i don't believe that for a second."
simon shoved him away, watching as the man's back slammed into the window behind him. he shook, terrified, covering his face with his arms.
"i think you knew exactly what you were doin'," simon accused. "y'like preying on pretty women, mate? well, unfortunately for you, i taught this one a nasty right hook, and i might just let her have some practice, would you like to practice, luv?"
"hey, i think he gets the point," you put a hand on simon's arm, soothing the tense muscle there with gentle circles. "let's go home."
"i dunno, does he get the point?"
the man nodded furiously, sinking to the ground as he kept his hands up for protection.
"right, if you get the point, why are you still fuckin' in here?!"
simon slammed the window next to him with the palm of his hand, and the man scrambled to his feet ungracefully, the bell dinging as he scurried out into the dark. you raised a brow as simon turned around, rolling out his neck as he narrowed his eyes at you.
"you happy now?" you asked, shaking your head. "who am i kidding? youre not happy unless you put the fear of god in men, huh?"
simon held the door open for you, a hand on the small of your back as he guided you outside.
"not god, luv."
you smiled. "ohhh, thats right...fear of you."
he grunted in response, and you slipped your arm around his, watching your feet as you walked.
"you're not scary, simon. sorry to tell you."
he chuckled lowly. "not to you, maybe."
"no..." you looked back up and him, and he met your eyes. he couldn't tell that it was love in your eyes. perhaps because maybe he'd never seen it before; he wouldn't know what it really looked like. "never to me, simon."
933 notes · View notes
macfrog · 10 months
Text
greetings from austin, tx cowboy like me chapter one
alright hwfg. first part of a dbf!joel series i'm gonna be working on. i hope you guys enjoy 🤍 please feel free to send in any requests or ideas, i'm constantly writing this so would love to know your thoughts!!!! love u all thank u sm for being the best
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pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader
summary: you return to austin after graduating to find everything as it always was. well, most things...
warnings: age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), little bit of alcohol consumption, and lotsa flirtin and allusions to...something more
word count: 2.3k
series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist
The doorbell rings and your dad jumps up. “Ain’t got no cash ready. Be right back.” He jogs off past you down the hall, but your eyes remain locked on Joel, who notices you once your dad’s gone. Or so you think. “Rude to stare, darlin’,” he tsks, bringing his beer to his lips. “Wasn’t starin’.” “No?”
Summer. Texan summer. One of the few things drawing you back halfway across the country to your hometown: bright, sunny, so hot the car bonnets burn your fingertips. It had become a running joke between you and your dad: he’d send a picture of Austin’s scorching sunshine, and you’d reply a picture of New York’s grey skies.
You were ready to come back home.
That is, until your flight landed onto saturated wet tarmac, during the rainiest month of the year. It hasn’t let up in the five days since.
You stumble off the bus into a torrential downpour and throw your hood back up, but it’s no use. By the time you arrive at work, your clothes are soaked through, your hair is plastered to your shoulders, and your mood is worse than ever.
Sal hands you a towel from the back when you walk into the office, but not before giving a hearty laugh from his desk.
“You oughta be gettin’ yourself a car, anyway, lady. Now that you’re back home.”
You give him as sincere a smile as your cheeks will allow. He’s your boss, sure, but he’s also a buddy of your dad’s. Gave you a part-time job for some extra cash when you were still at school, and has taken you back on now you’ve graduated. It’s in your best interests to keep him sweet.
The hardware store is the same as it always was. A little dim, a little dusty; same old tools and same old customers, but homely. You get to work unpacking this morning’s delivery, hauling boxes off of the trolley and filling the shelves. The day passes quickly enough, and you’re folding up empty cardboard boxes to waste the last half hour of your shift when a voice hums from behind you.
“Well, hello, darlin’.”
You stand up straight and spin around to find Joel Miller before you, trademark flannel and subtle-but-still-there smile on.
“Hey, stranger,” you reply, smiling back, before he opens his arms and pulls you in for a bear hug.
Joel Miller. Same as always: tall, rugged, handsome, dark hair and beard singed with grey, warm and sweet-smelling, grumbling, mumbling Joel. His chin rests on top of your head for a second before you pull away, and he looks you up and down.
“Been meaning to come over to see you since you got back, your dad said you were pretty busy unpackin’. Thought I’d give you a few days. Everything alright?”
“All good,” you reply with a nod. “I accumulated a lot of crap in New York.”
He smirks, shoulders jerking a little with a laugh. “Didn’t realise you’d gotten your job back in here,” he looks around, “you likin’ it?”
You shrug. “It’s money. And I know how things are run. Sal’s a good guy.”
Joel nods. “When do you get off?”
You glance down at your watch. “Five minutes.”
“You want a ride home?”
You take a deep breath and breathe out a, “Yes, please,” with a sigh. It’s been a long, damp day.
“I’ll just go grab these,” he holds up two boxes of nails, “meet you outside when you’re done, kid.”
He brushes past your shoulder heavily as he passes, something he always used to do when you were younger. You snort when he mutters, “My bad.”
Joel Miller and your dad have been best buds since, like, the eighties. Your dad has a few years on Joel, but they’re as close as can be. Grew up on the same street, saw each other through girlfriends, marriage, children, divorce. Never one without the other, all that.
Joel’s daughter, Sarah – four years your junior – is a freshman out west, somewhere in California. Another of the reasons you thought it was time to come home: your dad and Joel must feel pretty lonely having both of you gone.
When you’ve grabbed your hoodie and bag and made your way back out front, Joel’s being served by Anna, a girl you went to school with. She stayed here in Austin, has some side hustle selling makeup and perfume. She flutters her eyelashes at Joel as she rings him up. You cringe as you find place at his side.
“Ready?” he murmurs, looking down at you.
You nod.
“How’s things, anyways, Mr. Miller?” Anna asks, even as he’s turning to leave.
“Uh, good, thanks. Good luck with the…makeup.” Then he gives a low grunt and makes for the door.
“Not much of a talker,” you mutter to Anna, and flatten your lips against one another in the form of a goodbye.
Joel’s sat out front in his truck, looking down the receipt.
“Girl charged me for three boxes. If she wasn’t talkin’ so damn much about her perfumes…”
You pull your seatbelt over your shoulder. “Why don’t you go back in there and get your money back?”
“What, and subject myself to her battin’ eyelashes again? Almost blew me off my feet.”
Your head falls back against the headrest with laughter. “You know, you were the first thing she asked me about on my first shift back.”
“I bet I was, baby,” he replies, switching the ignition on and reaching an arm behind your seat as he reverses back.
You spend most of the drive home catching up, telling him about New York and listening to what antics he and your dad have gotten up to since your last visit home. It’s easy talking to Joel, easier than with your dad. He hums and grunts, lets you ramble, tells you what he thinks, then the pair of you fall back into comfortable silence until the next conversation sparks. No judgement, no lectures. Just Joel.
When you pull up in your drive, Joel casts you a meaningful look and says, “He’s really missed you, y’know. We both have.”
“You both have?”
“Sure. Gets quiet ‘round here at times. And with Sarah gone…It’ll be real nice to have you back again.”
“I’ll keep you on your toes, Miller.”
“Holdin’ you to it.”
“Joel? Hey, buddy.” Your dad’s voice breaks apart your conversation and you both turn to see him approaching from the garage. “Hi, kiddo.”
“Hey. Joel came in to get some stuff, gave me a ride home.” You hop out of the truck, and Joel wanders round to meet you.
“Well, thanks, man. You say thank you?” he asks.
You glance awkwardly at Joel, muttering a thank you like some little kid. He shakes his head softly in return, giving you a look that your dad misses, but you understand.
“C’mon inside, I was just tidying up. Stayin’ for dinner, Joel? I bet this girl’s been chewing your ear off about NYC…” Your dad’s voice fades away as he wanders back into the garage, and you and Joel begin to follow.
“Ain’t no need to thank me,” he whispers, leaning into your space.
You nod appreciatively. “My presence is thanks enough, I know.”
He nudges you toward the house.
Your dad orders in pizza and you set the table while he and Joel sit to discuss a potential new client. Joel sits at the edge of the table, turned outward to face the sliding doors, elbow hooked over the back of his chair. As you maneuver around them, placing mats down, you can’t help but note how fucking good he looks.
Tousled hair, unshaven beard. A broadness that even his own shirt can barely hold in; from where you’re standing, you can see where his neck meets his toned shoulders, skin tanned from the sun and the tiniest burst of chest hair over his collar…
The doorbell rings and your dad jumps up. “Ain’t got no cash ready. Be right back.”
He jogs off past you down the hall, but your eyes remain locked on Joel, who notices you once your dad’s gone. Or so you think.
“Rude to stare, darlin’,” he tsks, bringing his beer to his lips.
“Wasn’t starin’.”
“No?”
“Uh-uh. You got a stain on your shirt.”
His brows furrow and his head instantly snaps down to his chest. “Where?”
You snort, wandering over to put his plate on the mat. “My bad,” you whisper, leaning over, “must’ve been the light.”
Joel’s breath wavers only for a second, before your dad re-enters the room and he’s forced to compose himself.
“Alright, let’s see…Pepperoni, bleh, keep that one on that side of the table, please, and plain cheese over here.”
“See you haven’t improved Dad’s taste in pizza,” you say to Joel as you pull your chair out beside his and sit down, cross-legged.
“He – he’s immune to change,” he replies, then, only once he’s regained composure, adds, “or improvement of any kind.”
“Hey,” your dad protests, lifting a slice. “Cool it on the insults, here. You’ve been back six days,” he points a greasy finger at you, then steers it in Joel’s direction, “and you’re the one who turned down Lois last month. Talk about improvement, she could turn your life around, son.”
“Who the hell is Lois?” you ask, mouthful of pizza, aiming for chill, but coming across overly interested.
Joel shakes his head, only looking at you briefly from the corners of his eyes. “Receptionist at Clark’s Plant Hire. And I didn’t turn her down.”
“She asked you out?” Your knee brushes against his waist. He feels it; you know from the way his body tenses.
“She…said she’d like to go for a drink, sometime. I said yeah, maybe…some time.”
“Ouch. Poor Lois.”
He turns to face you now. “Don’t give me the same spiel your dad did, alright? I can decide for myself when I’m ready to be…datin’.”
“Wouldn’t he be nice with a receptionist from a plant hire on his arm?” Your dad fades into the background as you and Joel back-and-forth.
“If you don’t think you turned her down, why say you’re not ready to be dating?”
“Ha! See, my little girl,” Dad waves his slice of pizza around, “she got a degree, Joel. She’s smarter ‘n us. She’s got you on that one.”
“What is your degree in, again? Law?” Joel speaks through his teeth.
You beam back, happy to have riled him. “Film.”
“Film. My mistake. Must’ve felt like I was bein’ interrogated or som’.”
You decide to pull it back then. Enough discussing Joel’s love life – it doesn’t interest you much, not for the right reasons, anyway. The conversation shifts naturally to your degree, your graduation, and the year you spent living in the city afterward.
When most of the pizza is gone, the three of you sit idly chatting; the last Rangers game, the neighborhood barbecue coming up, the weather. Right as your dad voices concern about a job he has next week, his cell starts to ring in the living room.
As hasty and tactless as ever, he jumps up and almost knocks his chair flying. You and Joel laugh quietly as he bounds off in search for his phone.
You turn back to Joel, who’s playing with the label of his beer bottle.
“Hey.” You nudge him with your knee. He grunts in response. “Hey,” you say, clearer, this time pulling your legs up and over onto his lap. “Didn’t mean what I said about that Lois lady. I’m sure you had your reasons, and it’s none of my business. Or my dad’s.”
He stifles a laugh, sucking a breath in until his chest meets his chin. Then he lifts his head to look over to you. “Sorry I snapped. Wasn’t all serious, but I don’t want you thinkin’ I’m mad with you.”
“You can be, if you want.” You lean forward. “Just not for long, okay? It’d be a long summer with just my dad to hang with if Sarah’s gone and you ain’t talking to me.”
This time he laughs. For real. You mirror his swollen cheeks, glad to see you’ve amused him. He puts the bottle on the table and his hands fall to your ankles, where he gently rubs with his thumbs.
“When does she get home?” you ask him.
“Couple weeks. Still got finals and all that to worry about.”
You nod knowingly, muttering, “Rough.”
He gently lifts your legs from his lap and stands, towering over you, your chin inches away from his belt buckle as you look up at him. He doesn’t move, just brings a hand down to cup your jaw and tilt your head back ever so slightly with his thumb under your chin.
You can feel your pulse in your throat. You know Joel can, too. You clench between your legs, an ache forming there, and the only thought behind your eyes is him remedying it.
You bring your hands up to settle behind his thighs, trying desperately to send him a message through your doe eyes. Something in the way the corners of his mouth rise almost imperceptibly tells you he hears you loud and clear.
Your dad bursts back into the room like a bat out of hell, and the two of you spring apart.
“Supplier had some trouble with directions,” he mutters, tossing his cell onto the counter.
Joel grumbles in response, then, like nothing at all out of the ordinary just happened, begins gathering the bottles and gestures to you to grab the pizza boxes. You follow him over to the sink where you set the boxes down and he runs the bottles under the faucet, filling them up and pouring the dregs of beer down the drain.
Your dad’s busy clearing the placemats from the table, babbling to himself about work, when you feel Joel’s shoulder lean into yours.
“Trouble,” he murmurs.
You tilt your head and furrow your brows in response.
“You,” he breathes, “are nothin’ but trouble.”
You smile back at him gleefully.
Trouble, indeed.
2K notes · View notes
pandorafairy · 1 year
Text
Fire of Souls
Part 2: An Expedition
Enemies to Lovers
Tsu'tey x Reader (younger sister of Jake Sully, dreamwalker)
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Anything written in italics is spoken in Na'vi
My direhorse drinks calmly from the pond as I watch Jake attempt to mount his steed. Neytiri stands beside him, her hands on her hips and amusement twinkling in her eyes. “Steady, Jake!’ 
“Argh!” He yells like a banshee and jumps on top of the direhorse. The creature shifts uncomfortably as Jake settles on his back. I raise an eyebrow and pat the animal beneath me. On Earth, I rode horses all the time but direhorse are something entirely different. The first time I sat on top of one; I felt immediately at home, it came so naturally to me. Jake on the other hand… 
“Make tsaheylu,” Neytiri calls to him. Jake whips his hair around and connects to the direhorse. The animal freezes before stepping back nervously and shooting off into the forest. Jake holds on for a moment, then loses his grip. He flies into a pile of mud with a groan. Neytiri and I  laugh instantly. 
“Thanks for the support guys,” Jake mumbles as he crawls to his feet.
Suddenly, the forest begins to rumble, the sound of hooves pierce through the air. Three direhorses break through the treeline, each one with a rider. Tsu’tey is in front of the pack, his head held high. My lips immediately turn downwards at the sight of his face. 
For the past two weeks, I’ve been training with Neytiri and my brother. Tsu’tey keeps his distance but sometimes he’ll stop by and say something belittling. He usually targets Jake and avoids eye contact with me. Sometimes I stare at him with all my might, challenging him to look me in my eyes, but he never does. The way he ignores me is infuriating. Tsu’tey and his companions stop before us, their direhorses breathing heavily. They look incredibly self righteous, especially Tsu’tey with his permanently etched scowl. 
Neytiri crosses her arms, clearly expecting trouble. Tsu’tey and his friends burst into laughter as they stare at Jake, covered in mud. Tsu’tey looks at Neytiri and cocks his head to the side. “What did I tell you? They’ll never learn.”
His words grind against my brain as anger pools in my stomach. Jake glares up at Tsu’tey, “Got a problem? Say it in English.”
I tell my direhorse to move towards Jake. Tsu’tey flinches slightly as I come closer but his eyes remain trained on Neytiri. He never speaks to me, not since my first night here. But everytime we're close to each other, the space between us grows hotter, filling with distaste and loathing. The tension circulates around me as I stop my direhorse right in front of him. I’m tired of him ignoring me. Actually, I’m tired of him in general. I set my mouth in a straight line as my direhorse blows out an irritated puff of air.
Tsu’tey’s head snaps towards me at the sound. His friends look at each other in surprise but Tsu’tey just deepens his frown. His eyes trace my legs, clearly noticing my natural posture on my direhorse. A smug look covers my face. That’s right asshole, two can ride a horse.
Tsu’tey shakes his head bitterly before staring at Jake. “You should go.”
“You’d miss me too much,” Jake replies. I choke back a laugh. 
Tsu’tey’s rolls his wide shoulders as his companions shout rude remarks at my brother in Na’vi. Tsu’tey’s nostrils are flared and his strong chest is blown out. I can’t help the smile that creeps onto my face. Something about seeing Tsu’tey worked up…
“What’s wrong?” I mock. Tsu’tey turns his head slowly towards me like he can’t believe I've spoken. “Scared he might be a better warrior than you?”
Neytiri pauses, her eyes whisking between Tsu’tey and I. His friends hesitate, unsure of how to react to this. Tsu’tey lowers his head and glares at me through hooded eyes. “No, alien, he can’t even ride.”
Jake stiffens as Tsu’tey’s friends snicker. I lock eyes with Tsu’tey and a jolt runs through my body, igniting me with fury. “I can ride,” I smirk at him,“maybe even better than you.” 
Tsu’tey scoffs, his beaded hair glistening in the light. “Impossible.” I narrow my eyes at him and he lifts his head smugly. God, he’s so arrogant. 
“She is surprisingly good,” Neytiri mummers, “a natural.” 
One of Tsu’tey’s friends pats his direhorse before looking up, a wicked grin on his face. “You know what this means?” 
“No,” Tsu’tey barks, “do not say it.” He glares at his friend. My body is cold without his hot gaze on me.  
Neytiri’s lips break into a smile, her eyes glittering mischievously. “Soloteu, tonight. Then we will see.” 
I freeze. My stomach bubbles with nerves. What is that? Tsu’tey’s lips flatten into a straight line as his long fingers tighten on his direhorse. 
“Are you going to refuse, Tsu’tey?” Neytiri coos. 
Tsu’tey says nothing, his jaw clenching. I smirk, enjoying his discomfort.  I don’t know what Soloteu is but if it makes Tsu’tey shut up: I’m in. “Worried you’ll lose to some dreamwalkers?” I jab at him. 
Tsu’tey spits angrily. “We begin at the eclipse.” His direhorse takes off into the forest, his friends following closely after. Tsu’tey’s hair flies behind him like a flag of victory. I force my eyes away to find Neytiri watching me. 
She looks between Jake and I. “We have much work before tonight.”
“What’s tonight?” Jake asks, wiping the last bit of mud from his confused face. 
~~~
Darkness covers the forest, making all the plants come to life, they glow and burst beneath my feet as Neytiri leads Jake and I deeper into the forest. My hands are trembling with anticipation. Neytiri explained Soloteu, it’s a game. There are two teams with the same amount of players. That means Jake, Neytiri, and me against Tsu’tey and his companions. The objective is to find the thanator cub hidden in the forest with a red ribbon tied around their neck. Whoever retrieves the ribbon without hurting any animals, wins. The only rule: you have to ride a direhorse. 
“Do you seriously think I should play?” Jake asks for the hundredth time as we push through various trees. Neytiri shakes her head. “You must,” she hisses back to him. He mutters something under his breath that I can’t quite make out. 
We break through the tree line into a clearing where Tsu’tey sits, already mounted on his steed. His friends chat happily behind him as he sits tall, his shoulders straight and stares off into the distance. What is he looking at? I trace the treetops but see nothing. 
His head twists in our direction as he hears Neytiri walking up. “Ready?” She asks playfully before calling for direhorses. This must be their resting spot because instantly three horses appear through the trees. Neytiri makes tsaheylu as she mounts. 
I force my hands to stop their shaking and mount a horse beside her, making tsaheylu. I slip easily into the seat and clap her side lovingly. A tingle runs down my spine. I look up to find Tsu’tey watching me, his face serious as always, as his eyes drop down to where my hand caresses the creature. I raise an eyebrow at him and he looks quickly away. 
That’s weird. I open my mouth to say something when a horn blares through the clearing. Tsu’tey takes off immediately, faster than I ever knew a direhorse could run. His friends holler battle cries behind him as they follow, making excitement spread through my veins. Neytiri laughs, enjoying the game already. 
“Go left, that is where the thanator den usually is,” Neytiri says, “and if you need help or find it, use this call.” She whistles a high note before dropping low and chittering twice. I don’t have a chance to nod before she bolts off into the night. 
I sprint after her, feeling the wind whip my face as Jake’s voice follows me. “Wait!” 
I shake my head as I go deeper into the forest. Riding through here will be difficult, there are thick roots covering the forest floor, large rocks with sharp edges, and various animals hooting in the branches above me. I tighten my grip on my steed, speaking calmly to her through our tsaheylu. 
I’ve lost Neytiri but my direhorse knows her bearings. She leads me around each tree and stump as we navigate the forest naturally. She knows my goal and keeps her eye out as well. I scan my surroundings, searching for any sign of the red ribbon or Thanators. We have to win, Tsu’tey and his idiot friends cannot have another thing to hold over us. Speaking of, his friends hoot from a distance away. I tense, praying they didn't find the ribbon. 
The wind is practically burning my face as we race through the trees until my eyes spot something. I jerk back in my seat. A large paw print is marked in the ground. My direhorse makes an uneasy sound as she slows down. I pat her and eye the strange marking. That couldn’t be a thanator… could it?
A high pitched whistle rings through the air followed by two deep tones. I pause, it sounded different than when Neytiri first did it. Wait… that’s not Neytiri. The signal rings through the air again, sending chills through me. Jake. 
“Go girl,” I say roughly as my direhorse bolts in the direction of Jake’s calls. 
I crash through the trees and onto a cliff where a large waterfall splays down. All my hopes of Jake having found the ribbon, vanish. He’s dangling over the edge of the cliff, his blue fingers grasping desperately at a few rocks on the edge. I jump off my direhorse and race over to him. His eyes widen as he sees me bolting towards him. “Wait, don’t—”
A giant figure jumps out from my peripheral vision. I duck to the ground instinctively, feeling my heart fly into my throat. A beast lands right in front of me, blowing hot steam out of its nostrils. I exhale sharply. What the hell is that thing? 
I’ve studied Pandora for years and I’ve never seen a creature like this. Four massive horns curl on the outside of its head, six strong legs stilt from its bulky but flexible body. 
“Just go!” Jake yells over the roar of the waterfall, his voice straining as his blue fingers begin to slip. 
The beast blows an angry breath at me. I close my eyes for a moment before charging, letting all my army training and instincts take over. The beast runs at me, seeing my act as a threat. Once we’re right in front of each other, its nasty breath radiating from its mouth, I drop to my knees and slide beneath its body. Its skin is a strange mix between scales and fur. The beast continues running as I grab Jake’s struggling hands and pull with all my might. 
But he’s heavy. His feet have no ledge, his entire body weight is resting in my hands. I wrap my arm around the rock, trying to give myself more strength but it’s slippery from the waterfall. I groan in pain as I try to lift him. 
“Go,” Jake says through clenched teeth, “or we’ll both fall.” 
“I’m not losing you too,” I mutter as Tom’s face flashes through my mind. I dig my fingers deeper into my brother's skin and heave. I whistle to Neytiri, practically screaming into it, praying she’s nearby. 
The beast stops its running, making the forest seem way too quiet. Jake’s eyes grow as shakes his head. I won’t give up. I’m not losing another brother. I yank and yank, refusing to look behind me, even as the pounding begins again, heading right towards me. 
“Y/N, GO!” Jake yells, the veins on the side of his neck protruding out. 
The pounding grows louder and louder as the beast nears us, the entire ground shaking like a thunderstorm. I’m biting down on my lip so hard that I taste blood. My fingers are going numb around Jake’s hand. The beast exhales like a volcano exploding, his breath hitting my back in a hot wave. My eyes become frantic as I search for anything to help me. My chest is growing tighter and tighter. I’m going to die. 
The beast is charging towards my back. This is it. At least I’m with Jake. I squeeze my eyes shut when a holler bursts through the trees. 
“AHHHH!” A man’s voice yells. Someone lands behind me, sending a burst of air up my back. The beast’s paws stop their charging as it rears back and roars. Jake’s eyebrows shoot up. The sizzle of an arrow pierces the air before making a squishing sound as it enters the beast. The beast roars again, slamming into a tree, sending leaves all over the ground. 
“Be gone!” The  voice yells furiously. I freeze, my hand slipping on Jake’s. I know that voice…
The beast growls. Another arrow flies through the air before thudding against the beast. The creature grunts angrily before stomping off between the trees. I don’t have a moment to be relieved because Jake’s hands are sweaty and he's falling through my grasp. 
“Help me!” I call but I didn’t even need to. Tsu’tey is beside me, his large hands covering mine as we tow Jake over the cliff and on to safe ground. I throw my arms around Jake’s neck. He smells like sweat and blood. I hold my brother tightly. “You scared me,” I whispered.
“Don’t worry,” Jake mumbles, “can’t get rid of me that easily.” 
We pull slowly apart. I almost lost another brother. I couldn’t bear that. Fear is still coursing through my veins when I remember that Tsu’tey is here. 
He sits beside me, the warmth of his body seeps into my side. His fingers red from pulling and there’s a cut on his bicep. His eyes are drawn together, his mouth pulled down into his usual scowl. He doesn’t meet my eyes but I say it away, “Thank you, Tsu’tey.” 
His golden eyes find mine, full of turmoil and emotions I can’t decipher. “I didn’t do it for you.” 
I furrow my eyebrows. Jake starts to cough. Tsu’tey stands and walks a few feet away, blood slowly dripping from his cut. I exhale, slightly annoyed. “Well still, thanks.” 
He stands like a statue with his shoulders rigid. He rubs his chin, his full lips moving each time his long fingers pass. Worry begins to pool in my stomach. “What was that thing?” I ask. 
Tsu’tey growls at my words as his face becomes livid. Why is he so angry? Neytiri breaks through the treeline on foot. Her yellow eyes are big with worry and confusion. “What happened?”
Tsu’tey lethal expression turns grave. Jake fights his way to his feet. “Some beast attacked me,” he says. 
Neytiri’s mouth falls open. “An animal attacked you?” Jake and I nod. 
Tsu’tey crosses his arms over his chest, clearly pissed off. “Another thing the sky people have brought,” he snaps, a vein protruding on his sculpted face. 
“We had nothing to do with,” I motion to where the beast once stood, “whatever that was!”
“Our animals do not attack us,” Tsu’tey hisses at me as he takes a step closer, “that animal did not even recognize us. It is not even a Pandorian animal.”
“You want to blame us for everything!” I scream and take a step towards him. 
“Sky people are always to blame!” Tsu’tey screams back, his throat straining and his accent thick. 
“Well, we didn't create that monster!” 
“No, you are the monsters,” Tsu’tey breathes out viciously. 
His words sting like I’ve been slapped. Rage pours through me. “Then why did you help us?”
Tsu’tey halts, his jaw loosens slightly. He opens his mouth then closes it again, like he too isn’t sure why he helped. 
Neytiri places her hands in front of her. “Enough. This is a matter for the Ole’eyktan and Tsahik.”
Tsu’tey grunts before straightening himself. I look away, no longer wanting to see him, but his comment replays in my mind. You are the monsters. 
~~~
“This beast is unlike anything we have seen before,” Eytukan, Neytiri’s father, the Ole’eyktan, yells from where he stands on the main stairs of Hometree. The entire clan has gathered around the base, everyone listening intently to their leader. 
“We can gather a hunting party,” Tsu’tey says loudly, throwing his fist in the air, “and this beast will be dead by morning.” 
The clan erupts into cheers and applause. Jake and I stand beside Neytiri who eyes her father worriedly. Jake studies the crowd and occasionally rubs his blistered hands. My heart pounds in my chest, I can’t shake the feeling that something is about to happen. 
Eytukan lifts his hands and the clan falls silent. “We have war brewing with the sky people. We cannot send that many hunters away from Hometree.” 
Whispers spread through the crowd as Tsu’tey tenses. “I will go alone then.” His voice is deep and full of pride. 
Eytukan studies Tsu’tey, considering this proposal. Mo’at stands behind her husband with her eyes closed. My hands grow clammy. Neytiri balances from one toe to the other before stepping forward. “Father,” she begins, “Y/n is a good rider, a natural. Send her with Tsu’tey and she will prove herself.” 
A few clan members gasp, including myself. What did Neytiri just say? Eytukan tilts his head to the side as Tsu’tey shakes his head. “No,” he says aggressively, “I do not need a dreamwalker slowing me down.” 
Small laughter flickers the crowd as my shocked face turns into a grimace. Tsu’tey is such a self righteous little… 
Eytukan doesn’t even bother to look at me. “I agree. The dreamwalker will not—”
“She must go.” Mo’at’s eyes fly open, her shoulders trembling and her beaded hair shining. “The dreamwalker will accompany Tsu’tey.”
Now the clan is frozen with silence so thick I could cut it. Time feels like it’s slowing down. This can’t be happening. Tsu’tey’s eyes widen but he tries to cover it. He says nothing as Eytukan turns to Mo’at. “Why do you say this, wife?”
Mo’at takes a step forward, her eyes boring into Tsu’tey. He swallows, the bulge falls down his throat. She makes a grunting sound before turning to me. Her gaze shoots through me like electricity. She tilts her head as her eyes trace my body. My heart might beat right out of my chest. Mo’at pauses before turning to the clan. “Eywa has spoken. Tsu’tey and Y/n will hunt the beast and return safely to us.” 
For a moment, no one speaks or moves. Then, the entire clan explodes into cheers, battle cries, and applause. The sound sends shivers of excitement through me. They’re cheering for me. A small smile fights its way onto my lips as various clan members reach over and smack my arm encouragingly. Jake rubs my arm. He definitely doesn’t understand all that’s happening but he knows it’s about me.
“They leave at first light!” Eytukan hollers, causing the entire clan to erupt into cheers again. Neytiri nods at me in support. A small bit of pride sparks in me. If I can do this, maybe the clan will view me as one of them. I’m beginning to feel hopeful until I spot Tsu’tey.
His jaw is locked. His body is rigid and his lips are curled into a forced smile. Tsu'tey’s eyes drill into mine, darkening by the second. My breathing slows as I stare back. He looks at me a moment longer, his eyes flashing, before turning and walking through the crowd. 
“You will work well together,” Mo’at breathes into my ear. I jump. I didn’t see her coming. She places her soft hands on my arms. Her kindness radiates into me. “Give yourself and him time. You will see,” she whispers and disappears into the crowd before I’ve even thought of a response. 
I swallow and find Tsu’tey’s retreating back. His strong blue body glows beneath the firelight. Maybe Mo’at is right… Or maybe Tsu’tey and I won’t last a single day.
Thanks for reading! I'm sorry this took awhile to write. I still don't like this chapter but the next part is when things will start to get ~juicy~
Please let me know what you think! And tell me what you would like to see happen in the next parts <3
taglist:
@qu33n0fth3n3rds @katsukisworld @kyuriin-chan @leilaniers @ddioriez @hangezoes-wife @simpingfor-wakasa @pinkpantheris @rey26 @howlerwolfmax @thebestrouge @graniairish @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @dragon430 @cheari @cupidlot
2K notes · View notes
moonchildstyles · 2 months
Note
have you ever thought about doing a third person - not in the relationship - point of view for bodyguard h? like maybe the public's opinion as it becomes clear that they’re together? love your work!
wordcount: 2.3k+
—————
"Dude, shut up. Look." 
Winnie swallowed her words, halfway offended that Danni had cut her off so rudely. She was about to fire back at him, remind him that she was the reason they had even been able to secure seats at this place and afford more than a crumb of bread—until she followed where he was suddenly gesturing towards.
Under the dim lighting of the restaurant, shrugging out of her taupe coat with a familiar face holding her chair out for her was (Y/N)—the (Y/N). The most notorious socialite of New York. Winnie had just looked at her instagram on the cab ride over here, and now there she was. With her "bodyguard". 
"That's who I think it is, right?" Danni asked from across from her, his voice suddenly hushed. 
"That's her," Winnie confirmed, tearing her gaze away from the now occupied table, fearing she would be caught staring. "She just posted on her Insta story in that outfit." 
Danni obviously shared none of Winnie's qualms with the way he craned his neck, attempting to get a better view around the table sitting between their booth and the now high profile one stationed behind it. "Who is she with? Is it that same guy from the 132 Gala?" 
"I think so," Winnie muttered, chancing a glance in their direction, "She says he's just her bodyguard, though." 
"That's the bodyguard?" Danni blanched, a pinch appearing between his brows with an incredulous look on his face, "There's no fucking way. They're obviously on a date." 
Feeding off of some of Danni's confidence, Winnie pinned her gaze on their table. It really did look like they were on a date. Maybe it was just the lighting of the place or the fact that she is (Y/N), but the way he looked at her couldn't just be that of a man whose job was to be around her. Since when did bodyguards share a table with their client, anyway? Even from where their booth was situated, Winnie swore she could see the hooded set to his eyes and every soft edge to his features as he gazed at her.
It was the way he looked at her in every photo of the pair of them together, every picture that was posted to the feed with articles dissecting everything about (Y/N) and whatever it was that had transpired the night before at whatever party she attended. He was always right there, at her side with something more than professionalism guiding him. 
"You think so?" Winnie asked, canting her head as a bottle of wine was delivered to the spotlighted table.  
Before Danni could make any kind of argument, they watched as (Y/N) had poured herself a tiny glass of the red wine and took a sip before passing it across the table to her bodyguard. They saw him take a drink from the same spot she had pressed her own lips without a thought. Apparently he must have liked the wine seeing as (Y/N) ended up pouring another glass for him. 
"Obviously," Danni said, no room for argument. 
Just then, their waiter came by with his hands loaded with plates. "Is there anything else I can grab for you tonight?" he asked as he passed out their dishes, a pleasant smile on his face. He was the same one that had dropped off the wine at (Y/N)'s table—Winnie almost wanted to ask if he thought the pair of them were on a date, too.
"I think we're alright, thank you," Danni spoke up, fluttering his curled lashes up at the waiter. 
Once they were alone again, Winnie couldn't help herself, she had to take another look at their table . She caught (Y/N) letting out a peal of laughter, her bodyguard looking at her with dimpled cheeks and a smug smile. 
"I just read something that said she was hooking up with this F1 guy, though," Winnie prattled, recalling the professional photos from the speedway and the grainy pictures from the private afterparty where she talked to one of the racers. Now thinking about it, she could remember some of the shots with her bodyguard hovering just out of frame or right at her side—as per usual.
"Maybe, they're open," Danni shrugged, twirling his pasta around his fork, "I don't know, but there's no way they haven't at least slept together with the way they're looking at each other." 
Winnie couldn't argue with that. The evidence was right in front of her. She wished she was a little bit closer, just so she could hear what they were saying. 
"Maybe," Winnie settled, letting the subject go to focus on her own dinner. 
Despite Danni distracting her with another avenue of conversation, Winnie couldn't help herself but to look over every now and then. It was like cinema, a scene in a film she didn't want to miss if she didn't have to.
More than once, she caught (Y/N) laughing with her inhibitions thrown out, her bodyguard looking on with affection in his eyes. Maybe it was a trick of the lighting, but there was a moment Winnie swore she could see (Y/N) leaning across the table and touching his hand or nudging his foot just under the hem of the tablecloth. By the time their meals made it to their table, she and Danni were almost done with their own dinner, but she still caught the way bites of food were shared upon the same fork. 
They were doing everything just short of kissing, it seemed like: sharing food, sharing glasses, leaning across the table, whispering as if there was no one else in the restaurant. 
"I'm going to go to the bathroom before we leave," Winnie said, excusing herself from the table once their plates were clear and the check had been taken. 
"Okay," Danni acknowledged, barely looking up from his phone as he calculated the tip. 
While she definitely had to use the restroom, there was a bit of strategy in wanting to pass by their table on the off chance that she might be able to overhear anything. Was it a bit nosy? Sure, but it wasn't like she was planning on tweeting or posting anything she might glean from the moment—Winnie just liked knowing things.
Stepping away from the booth, she took the long way around, passing by the table with distractedly slow steps as she pretended to be on her phone. 
From the corner of her eye, she could see (Y/N) toying with the small dessert menu. "Did you want to try the strawberry shortcake, mon amour?" 
Winnie's steps almost faltered. Was that French or something? Despite the little knowledge of language outside of her own, even Winnie knew that amour had to be something about love. She was calling him her love?
As much as she wanted to stick around and see what he had to say, there was no way she was blowing her cover any more than she probably already had. Heading to the bathroom, Winnie had to leave her curiosities behind.
After using the restroom, she didn't linger for too long before she was venturing back into the dining area. Passing by (Y/N)'s table, she couldn't help but minutely slow her steps. 
By now there was a small tower of strawberry shortcake in the middle of their table, replacing the candle and votive that had been placed there before. A spoon with the perfect bite of a bit of sponge cake, strawberry slices, and whipped cream was held aloft in the bodyguard's hand. 
"Y'have the first bite, sweet girl." 
Winnie's eyes widened as she kept her pace and passed by. There was no way to misunderstand that. The friends she knew didn't call each other such affectionate names.
Hurrying back to Danni, Winnie was almost bursting with her newly gleaned information. 
"Danni, Danni—" she started, only to be cut off by his own bursting tone. 
"You missed it, I can't believe it!" he stage whispered, gaze locked on her as she slid back into the booth.
"No, seriously, guess what I heard when I passed them," Winnie started, attempting to hook his attention though Danni didn't seem to be taking the bait at all. 
"They kissed," Danni interrupted, his voice considerably lower than before, "Literally right before you came out of the bathroom, they kissed. They're totally fucking." 
Winnie sat back, almost cursing herself for missing out on the perfect moment. Glancing back to their table, they were engrossed in one another while sharing their dessert. The longer she looked at the bodyguard, she couldn't blame (Y/N) at all. Even with whatever billionaire or celebrities were knocking on (Y/N)'s door, she doubted there were any that could compare to the way that man looked at her. (Or just looked in general).
"When I was walking past them, she called him love in, like, French or something, and he called her his sweet girl." 
Danni followed her line of sight and saw them share another whipped cream filled bite of cake. "That's actually really cute. I really hope they're dating, otherwise that's kind of a bummer for him because he's clearly in love with her." 
The longer they looked at them, Winnie had an idea pinging in her head. "Do you think it would be weird if we went and said hi or something?" 
Waving her off, Danni shook his head. "No, she probably gets it all the time." 
Rolling her lips between her teeth, Winnie wasn't completely convinced. "I don't know, though. She's supposed to be kind of mean, sometimes." 
"Who cares," Danni answered with a shrug, "If she is, at least we know that's just how she is and that it isn't us." 
While this wasn't usually something Winnie liked to do, she couldn't pass up the opportunity to at least say hello. It was too surreal of circumstances to pass up on—she had been browsing (Y/N)'s Instagram and story on the way to this restaurant tonight, and now she was right there. She had probably learned things tonight that the media had been itching for, for months.
"Okay, let's do it before I get too nervous," Winnie pushed, picking up her coat and bag just as quickly as Danni had his phone put away and was sliding out of the booth. 
Danni took the helm as they approached the table, the bodyguard's eyes catching them long before (Y/N) had. 
"Are you (Y/N)?" Danni asked, ducking down enough so that he didn't have to speak too loud in the middle of the dining area. 
Perking up in her seat, (Y/N) turned around with a swish of her hair. A pleasant expression was stitched on her features with a quiet smile and soft eyes. 
"Yes, hi," she greeted them, looking up from where she was seated with the center of her lips tinted strawberry. 
"Hi," Danni smiled, turning on the performer persona he had been honing since his NYU days, "I hope we're not interrupting, but my friend and I wanted to say hi before we left for the night." 
"Oh no, you're totally fine," (Y/N) chirped, casting her gaze across to take in Winnie as well, "What are your names?" 
"I'm Danni, and this is my friend Winnie," he introduced, gesturing to his side where Winnie could see the less than impressed expression worn by (Y/N)'s bodyguard—boyfriend. 
"Nice to meet you guys," (Y/N) smiled, engaging with her full attention, "Are you having a good night so far?" 
Taking the opportunity to pipe up given the fact that this was her idea in the first place, Winnie gave her own grin to the woman she had only ever seen this close up on Instagram. Weirdly enough, she was one of those people that looked better in person as opposed to photos, which was insane given just how gorgeous she was in photos, too. 
"This is our first time trying this place, but it was really good," Winnie said, catching the assessing glare from across the table as she shifted her weight, "This is so weird, honestly. On the Uber ride over here, I was just looking at your Instagram and looking up the blush you were wearing in your story." 
"Oh," (Y/N) sounded, not at all perturbed by the admission. She actually seemed to brighten at the new avenue of conversation, her lashes fluttering with her posture straightening. "It's a Charlotte Tilbury blush one of my friends is letting me borrow! I can't remember the name, but it's this really pink one with this shimmer circle in the middle. It's super pretty, I'm probably going to have to get my own." 
This was going better than almost every rumor Winnie had ever read about (Y/N). Her smile widened. 
"Thank you! I might get one, too. Then, we'll match," Winnie said, beginning to edge away from the table, not wanting to overstay their welcome, "We have to head out, but thank you for talking for a minute. I hope you guys have a nice rest of your night." 
Winnie shot her smile towards the quiet boyfriend across the table, hoping to soften him some now that they were leaving his girlfriend alone. It didn't appear to work, mostly because he had his eyes on (Y/N). 
"Of course, thank you guys for being so nice!" (Y/N) beamed, wiggling her fingers in a small wave "I hope you end up getting the blush! Have a good night." 
With that, Winnie started heading towards the restaurant's entrance with Danni at her side. 
Once they were far away, underneath his breath, Danni muttered, "You don't even wear blush." 
"I know, but I didn't know what else to say." 
"It was your idea to go talk to her," Danni laughed. 
Winnie only shook her head, feeling a bit rattled at the swift meeting. When she moved to New York, she knew there was a high chance that she was going to run into celebrities here and there, but she had always said she wouldn't be able to handle talking to any of them. This experience only proved right. 
Now she had to go out and buy an expensive blush. 
—————
thank you so much for reading the first elan blurb! sorry for any mistakes and if you have any ideas to share please send them in!
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hanasnx · 3 months
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thinking about Jason Todd dating a veterinarian/doctor reader. We all know he's very busy with his Red Hood work, so having someone with a busy schedule is almost a relief for him, because then he wouldn't have to worry about disappointing you due to lack of time. he has a lack of time monitoring the city and the reader has a lack of time on medical duty. it's fair. it work.
but that’s not the best point of all, at least not for me. In my mind, Jason is very closed off and stubborn, so it's very difficult to get him to take care of the injuries he gets in alley fights against criminals, but now he's dating a doc and It change things, especially when they're trying to tend to an injury and it's so close, holding him still because god, won't he stop squirming? and he's like "okok, put your tits on my face will not calm me down, doc." It does. it calm him down. jason is a tit guy. He can sit for hours with you stitching his back without anesthesia if it means he'll have the soft flesh hidden beneath a tank top rubbing against him, against his face.
This is shaping up to be a long-winded rant and I don't want to be exhaustive, so I'll go to the last topic: the way tend his injures always lead to sex. he has this thing that he wants to be taken care of. he's rude and dominant with everyone and maybe even in bed, but sometimes he just wants his love to put bandages on his shoulders and spread kisses all over his face while he rides him nice and slow, saying that everything will be fine, that he will be brand new on no time. I also think it could happen since he's just too beat up to fight crime and Reader just put a stay-at-home sign on him, and it's driving him mad. he has nothing to take out all that energy and anger, so he takes it out on you, fucking you against every possible corner and surface, unlike the bubble of love from before, now he's just digging short nails into your hips already marked by his fingers, creating more and more noise tickets late at night.
anyway, I think that's it! I'm so happy you liked that ask about Dick & ballerina, it just warmed my heart! hope you're doing well!
MINORS DNI 18+
"Jay— Jay! You'll pull your stitches!" you warn, but JASON TODD remains un-intimidated, yanking you back by your hips to meet his thrusts. Some thug with a knife gave him a long slice across his bicep, followed closely by one across the side of his ribcage. Wounds you'd just finished tending, but the bourbon he'd downed to ease the pain was already in full effect. That, or he's fucking you through the sting. He's got you bent over in front of him, your fingers bracing on some piece of furniture while you stand. He didn't bother taking your clothes off, yanking your panties down to pool around your ankles, your smart little pencil skirt folded over your torso.
"Help me through the pain, Doc." he replies, his gruff voice strained from effort. "Hurts so good." he moans, but you can tell he's feigning it, as if he's not taking you seriously. To distract you from your protests, his large body curls around you, hand cupping your hanging tits, rolling the flesh in his fingers and palm. "If you cum on this dick I'll feel better."
You bark a laugh at him, releasing a breath you didn't realize you were holding. "Make me do it then. I'll have to patch you back up after this anyway." As if to playfully punish you for your attitude, he smacks one of your tits and you squeak in surprise.
"Finally on board."
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bonny-kookoo · 8 months
Text
Jungkook/Platonic OT6
𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐝 [Intro]
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The wolf pretending to be the grandmother, just to later swallow the poor red riding hood whole- is he attempting to gain your trust as well just to feast on your flesh later, once he gets hungry for a meal?
Tags/Warnings: Werewolf!Jungkook, Human?Reader, Platonic!OT6, strangers/enemies to lovers, fantasy AU, drama, angst, fluff, romance, suggestive themes and eventual smut, Alpha!Jungkook
Length: 2k words
-> Masterlist
There is no taglist for this fic.
A/N: how many different wolf-JKs can bonny write without it getting boring challenge
🌲── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ─🐺─ ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──🌲
You've always been somewhat drawn into the forest far away from the cities, even as a small child.
You remember the family trips you'd take, camping out underneath the trees, your father showing you how to make a fire, and how to set up the tents. You always enjoyed weekends like these, even though they were incredibly rare. Your mom and dad had separated early in your life, and at some point, after your father had passed away, you simply never went back to the forest ever again.
Your mother, and stepfather would always warn you of the werewolves out there instead. 'There's a reason the government gave them those forests to roam around in.' She'd always scoff. 'So they'll stay away from us humans. So they can't hurt us.' She'd warn you.
Werewolves are beasts, hiding inside a human's body. Fierce animals, with no humanity inside them whenever they'd shift into their other forms. Their bones would break loudly, blood would spill and minds would change- and once they're shifted into their wolf forms, they'd eat people's children who'd wander too far from their families, never seen again after getting lost in the woods.
Nowadays, you hardly believe those tales.
You do however fear werewolf men- because statistics prove that they don't seem to have much control over themselves. Normally, just like your mother, you'd wear simple jewelry of silver to protect yourself- something many humans do, especially those that work with wolf people a lot, just to protect themselves. But you seem to have an allergy against that type of metal- it doesn't burn you or anything- at least it hasn't yet. You usually just get really nauseous and weak from wearing any silver- so you tend to not buy anything that contains the shiny metal.
Your mom said it's nothing too problematic. Just that you should stay away from it.
The birds chirp above you, some larger one's flying off while the small one's stay behind, curiously watching you as you sit in the grass, a blanket spread out that you sit on. You're grown up now. An adult, no longer really talking to your mother or your stepfather as much. Instead, you've created your own little life- something quiet, and easy, and simple. Nothing exciting, nothing adventurous.
You don't like things like that.
Excitement always brings a certain sense of danger with it, after all. And you've had enough dangerous experiences in the past to last you a lifetime, after all. You don't need more of that.
You'd rather stay like this- all by yourself, eating a simple prepared meal in the forest, surrounded by nothing but nature. Because nature doesn't look at you weirdly. Nature doesn't judge you, or ask you things that make you uncomfortable to answer. Nature just sees you as what you are- A simple human, not out here to harm anybody.
You suddenly spin your head around when a tree branch snaps in half behind you- and suddenly, there's a young man dressed in casual clothes, piercings in his face and very telling amber eyes looking at you, his hands lifted in front of him palms open to show he's no threat.
"I'm sorry- that was super rude of me to approach you from behind. Sorry." He sheepishly admits, before he walks a bit closer, hands in the pockets of his jacket now. "Where's your pack?" He asks, and you stiffen up.
"I- I don't have one." You deny. "I'm human." You admit to him, and he tilts his head a bit in question, as you watch his eyes seemingly glow for a split second while he- smells the air?
"Really? I could swear I'm smelling a wolf.." He wonders more or less to himself, before he shakes it off. Maybe someone had come by here earlier, and he's simply catching that scent instead of yours. "Anyways, I was just passing by and thought to check up on you. This is my pack's territory, so I kind of always keep an eye out for people who wanna cause trouble." He charmingly explains, shrugging his shoulders easily.
To think that that guy.. is an apparent 'beast' is kind of.. hard to see, really. He looks pretty innocent with his round eyes and soft facial features, hair a little wild in slight curls on his head. And you're sure, he looks more like a golden retriever happy to see another person, than a wolf.
A leader, at that.
"Your pack?" You ask, and he nods, almost proudly beaming at you.
"Yep!" He chirps, walking a bit closer now as he notices you not being weirded out or anxious. "Well- kind of. Namjoon is the head-alpha, I'm kind of his stand-in at the moment until he's back from his trip." He shrugs, pointing to your blanket. "Can I.. sit down with you? I promise I'm not gonna eat you like some red-riding-hood kind of situation." He jokes, and you scoot over a bit, letting him sit down next to you- though you make sure to pull your backpack a little closer.
"I have a silver knife in my bag anyways." You threaten. That makes his eyes widen a bit.. fearfully? "So don't try anything." You threaten, and again, he lifts his hands.
"I won't, promise." He promises, before he looks at you again rather curiously, leaning in a little. "But- do you have wolf-friends maybe?" He asks. "I swear you smell like wolf. Kind of. A little- it's confusing actually." He mumbles, and you scoot away from him at that. "Hey no- sorry, I didn't mean to come off as weird. I know you humans tend to be a bit wary of us here." He deflates, and you almost feel a bit sorry for him.
Almost.
"I don't have wolf-friends." You tell him. "And I'm sorry I trespassed on.. your territory. I'll make sure to go somewhere else next time." You say, but he shakes his head.
"Oh no, please!" He denies. "It's completely chill, really! Like I said we only don't want people wrecking stuff and causing trouble. Like, you know- parties and stuff. They always leave behind their trash and shit, and that's just awful." He shrugs, making you agree.
"I won't do that." You say. "Leaving my trash here, or wrecking stuff." You clarify, and he smiles.
"Thats good." He beams, getting a bit more comfortable. "So, what brings you here?" He asks, genuinely wondering. There's a clear sign at the entrance of the forest that this is werewolf territory after all- humans don't usually even go for a walk here at all.
They stay clear of this area, and usually, Jungkook likes it that way.
"I don't know, honestly." You admit, pulling your legs closer to yourself, hugging your knees. "I just kind of.. like it here." You shrug, and he watches you for a second, and you feel like his amber eyes stare right through you and into your very soul.
Like he can see something you didn't even know was there.
"Me too. I was born in these woods though, so that might explain why I'm so attached to it." He chuckles, no longer looking at you as intensely, and quite honestly, he seems like a nice guy to be around. The perfect balance of confidence, boyish-charm and the right pinch of gentle masculinity- if he wasn't a werewolf, you probably would've been a lot more open towards him.
But every time his gaze catches yours, you're reminded of what those golden eyes mean.
The wolf pretending to be the grandmother, just to later swallow the poor red riding hood whole- is he attempting to gain your trust as well just to feast on your flesh later once he gets hungry for a meal? You won't let it get this far. You're not a dumb child he can just trick by pretending to be a friend.
"I'm Jungkook, by the way. Alpha wolf, but I promise I've got myself under control. Even got a citizens' pass if you wanna see?" He proudly grins at you, and you can't help but look at him like you don't trust his words- so he grabs at his cotton zip-hoodie, patting down the pockets before he pulls out a black simple wallet, showing off the plastic card with his identification info, a small ID photo of his right next to it. He looks young in it- but a lot more serious. "There you go. Got an 85, makes me top 1% of all wolfbloods in the country." He shows off, shoulders high as he lets you examine the card.
It's true. His IC-score is a 85, IC standing for Instinct Control. You've never seen one this high to be honest- but then again, you don't have any wolf-friends or acquaintances. His name is Jeon Jungkook, he's born in the year 1997, and his ID states he's an Alpha*. You're not sure what the little asterisk on that means- but you also don't wanna pull the plastic card out of its compartment, so you just leave it at that.
"You're older than me." You say as you give it back to him. "Not by much, but a little." You simply mumble, and he smiles, happy that you now seem to relax a bit more. Suddenly, the first drops of rain begin to hit your head and shoulder- reminding you that you wanted to go back long ago to not get caught in the small shower the weather forecast had foretold.
"Oh wow, that's gonna bring a lot of rain." Jungkook notices, looking past you at a wave of dark clouds approaching, when the first thunder rumbles. "You should go back fast if you wanna stay dry." He offers, getting up to help you fold your blanket and back your backpack again.
"I actually hiked here." You sigh. "So I'm gonna get wet anyway." You shrug, and he looks at you a bit concerned.
"You can also just sit it out at my packhouse." He offers. "I promise you, we have multiple houses there. You can stay in one of the smaller ones just by yourself if you don't wanna be around the others." He explains, and you look at him, before glancing back down the steep path you'd taken from the city far away up here where the woods stand proudly on the high hills.
There's no way you'll stay dry on your way back down.
Then, you look back at him, his honey-colored eyes seemingly glowing underneath the darkening skies above. A warning from nature, maybe, that this young man holds a beast in his heart- a beast you've been warned about for years never to get too close to.
But there's something else.
Something that makes you nod at him, before he begins to grin and take your backpack for you, leading you through the shaking trees and treaded down paths through his woods, birds already flying towards their nests as well, chirping their warnings to others as well of the changing weather.
You're not sure why you keep holding his hand even after he's done helping you step over a large root of a tree bursting through the ground. Maybe because it's warm, and the wind now brings a chilling cold.
Maybe because you just don't want to get lost and be eaten like the children in the nursery tales of your mother.
Or maybe you just hold it because you've never held someone's hand before without them complaining about it.
He turns to look over his shoulder presumably to check if you're still keeping up fine-
Golden eyes shining like little fireflies as the woods become darker the deeper you go.
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berryhobii · 3 months
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Namjoon as your werewolf boyfriend….
* Follows you around EVERYWHERE
* To the bedroom, to the kitchen, to check the mail
* Even to the bathroom (he’ll just wait outside for you)
* Hovers around you while you cook
* Always eager to taste anything and everything
* He’ll sometimes try dipping a spoon into something when you’re not looking
* “Hey! No!”
* Then here comes the pout and the teary eyes
* And because you are oh so very weak to him, you’d relent and let him taste
* Then he’s happy again and you fall a little more in love with him
* He’s practically a big lap dog in both his human and wolf forms
* When you’re relaxing on the couch or in bed, he’ll come and plop himself right on your lap
* When he’s in his human form, you don’t mind it as much
* But his wolf form is 10 times larger and furry
* You always insisted on getting a bigger couch but he’d just say
* “But this is our first couch together. It has sentimental value.”
* Him and his big heart
* Ugh you loved and hated it
* The ash colored wolf would stalk from somewhere, following your scent to the living room
* You’d be watching television or playing a game on your phone when suddenly your vision would be blocked by a mass of fur
* He’d be careful of his nails to not hurt you, climbing onto the too small couch for some cuddles
* “Oof. Namjoooooon. You’re heavy.”
* He’d just huff as if saying “don’t fat shame me”
* Knowing there was no moving him once he was comfortable, you just had to accept your fate
* Sighing, you’d lean your head on his back, focusing back on your phone or the television
* Eventually you’d mindlessly start petting him, running your fingers through his soft fur
* Something new you learned about his fur was that he doesn’t need to wash it since he gets a new coat everytime he shifts
* Crazy right?
* (Do y’all ever think about that type of stuff with werewolf au’s?)
* Anyway
* He’d relax under your ministrations, a deep and content rumble vibrating in his chest
* If you were feeling down in the dumps, he’d play fetch with you
* He sort of hated acting like a dog but seeing your happy face everytime you threw the ball made it all worthwhile
* One time you tried to convince him to dye his fur red and be Clifford for Halloween
* That was a big no
* “We could be little red riding hood and the big bad wolf.”
* “I’m not a stereotype, y/n.”
* “You’re literally watching birds right now.”
* “Bird watching is a very popular hobby!”
* “Yeah…..for dogs…”
* You did convince him to dress up but he decided to be little red riding hood
* That means you were the big bad wolf and the opportunity was too good to pass up
* “My my, little red. You look good enough to eat.”
* He froze up at the feeling of your claw like nails running up his broad shoulders
* “B-baby…”
* He turned to face you, already finding you on your knees before him
* Your golden colored contacts stared mischievously at him
* Hands gripped the edges of his loose fitting pants, pulling them down his legs
* He grunted when your warm palm enclosed around his growing shaft
* “We should really get to the party…ah.”
* Your tongue darted out to lick at his head, the saltiness of his precum sparking your taste buds
* “What’s the rush, little red?”
* When you were in public, he went from a sweet baby to an overprotective boyfriend
* Your scary dog privilege let you walk around without worry
* Sometimes if you wanted to go somewhere at night, he’d shift into his werewolf form and trail along side you
* Even other dogs would scamper out of his way and creepy men didn’t even look in your direction
* No one really knew werewolves existed so to regular people, he just looked like a huge dog
* A dog that was almost the size of the car but you digress
* In his human form, he was always holding your hand
* Moving you out of the way before someone could bump into you
* Staring down every person that got a little too close to you
* And those few times people have been rude to you, he’d let out a low warning growl
* You’d sometimes have to keep him in check with a gentle hand on his chest or a brief look that told him not to overdo it
* Werewolves were unbelievably strong in both forms, scarily so
* You’ve never seen Namjoon get truly feral but you watch a lot of nature documentaries
* So you could only imagine him if he was really angry
* Your boyfriend was also beefy as hell, compliments of his genes so you knew he could protect you
* But that didn’t mean you wanted him breaking someone’s bones and possibly going to jail
* Still, seeing him get all worked up did get you all hot and bothered
* MATING PRESS
* Your flexibility sucked when you started dating
* So in order to keep up with him, you started doing flexibility training at home
* Where at first your hamstrings would burn, now you could throw your feet behind your ears like nothing
* Sweat would drip down his body as he pounded into your puffy cunt
* Making sure you felt every single inch he had
* You wouldn’t be able to tear your eyes away from how your pussy stretched around his girthy cock
* Every thrust would make your tummy bulge, showing you just how deep he was
* He could definitely go multiple rounds
* Stamina 10/10
* He’s a definite Switch and a Pleasure Dom
* He loves taking control like his alpha instincts tell him
* But he also doesn’t mind letting you dote on him
* PRAISE KINK
* Call him a good boy and let him know how good he’s making you feel and he’s doing his best to make you feel even better
* He also loves when you ride his cock, saying sweet praises to him that made his toes curl
* “That cock’s s-so good, Joonie.”
* “I love that fat cock in my cunt.”
* “You’re gonna make me cum again.”
* “Such a good boy.”
* He’s definitely a whiny baby
* He’s most sensitive behind his ears
* Duh
* He’s a biter too
* Seeing the indents of his teeth all over your skin just did something to him
* He couldn’t mate you all the way so biting you was as close as he could get
* He plunges his entire cock into you when he’s about to cum
* He wants you to feel his cum deep in your stomach
* Yeah he had a bit of a breeding kink
* Could you blame him?
* Your cunt was always so wet and ready for him
* How could he not want to put a baby in you?
* Especially when you’d wrap your legs around his waist to keep him from pulling out
* “Fill me up. Wan’ all your cum.”
* He hated when his cum would leak out, quick to plug you back up with his fingers
* His protective nature wouldn’t even let you leave the bed
* Wrapping his arms around you and rubbing his scent all over your skin
* You’d indulge him for a moment but that sticky feeling would get uncomfortable for you very quickly
* He’d whine when you tried to get up, giving you those puppy dog eyes
* “Just a few more minutes.”
* “I want to clean your cum out of me.”
* It’s like a dagger through his heart
* “I’ll clean you.”
* “Your tongue doesn’t count, Namjoon.”
* After promises to make him his favorite meal, he’d release you
* But alas, your knees would give up on you
* Good thing your ever attentive boyfriend was there to carry you like the princess you were
* “You’re such a damsel in distress. You can’t even walk by yourself.”
* You’d huff and bite his collarbone in retaliation which would pull a moan from him
* “Hey, no biting. Bad girl.”
* “Woof.”
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starshipsofstarlord · 10 months
Text
Piece of Cake
Luke Hemmings x reader x Calum Hood
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Summary Luke doesn’t think you like him, but oh does Calum know you do, and so he decides to interfere for both of your sakes
warnings = MDNI! includes smut, use of weed, blowjob, facial, slight angst, clitoral stimulation, exhibitionism
The last thing that you had ever expected whilst opening for 5sos during their post covid tour was for anything romantic or sexual to happen between you and one of the five members, of course that hadn't stopped you from dreaming lustful images, but never had you thought the opportunity would arise. That was until one evening when you were sat on the tour bus, Michael and Ashton had ventured off to spend time with their significant others, leaving you with the bassist and lead singer. You were sat on your bed, Luke and Calum were in the living space, you were rolling a blunt, licking the paper so that the contents would remain inside without quarrel without spilling out.
They were talking about music and other nonsense, whilse you were planning to get high, and you were rather glad that you hadn't even lit the blunt or taken the puff from it when you became the topic of their converse. Perhaps it was rude to listen in on their private conversation, especially when they had gifted you with a ride along on their tour to expand your own fan base, but it was impossible to help yourself. You were curious, that was all, and very intrigued.
“So about y/n?” There wasn’t much to the question that Calum was asking Luke, you could only imagine that the blond’s head perked up in as much confusion as your own was. “Are you going to make a move man, every time she’s up on that stage or she simply walks through the room you’re drooling more than your dog does.” Your head tilted in pivoted hope, however you weren’t going to make assumptions without a word being directly said to you… right? That would be absurd, especially considering within the spotlight that your career granted it was easy for rumours to be misinterpreted or spread throughout the media. However, this was the source that you were listening in on, and subjectively you chewed your own bottom lip as you awaited the response of the man whom was undergoing a friendly interrogation.
A long and drawn out sigh elevated from Luke’s lungs as he leant his curl rooted hair back, burning his eyes as he stared up at the ceiling lights that were built into the tour bus. “It’s not that I don’t want to man,” at least that was a comforting statement to feed your awaiting nerves, “but I feel like I have to remain professional. Not to mention, she probably isn’t interested in me anyways, have you seen how well her and Ash get along? If she were to want one of us, it definitely wouldn’t be me…” There was a seasoning of self sympathy behind his subjective words, of which formed a crack within your heart from hearing them. His undirected accusations were a harm to his own mind, inflicting his own doubts, and you could see how he could perceive your friendship with his band mate that way.
You and Ashton got along insanely well, he was the first one that calmed your nerves the first time that you were scheduled to perform before them. But the two of you were just friends and that was all. The entire conversation that you were intruding on with your hearing distracted you from the task that you were currently attempting to perform, and thus the joint that you had just glued together with the stick of your saliva escaped your grip as you fumbled and tumbled out of your bunk and onto the floor between the set of stacked beds. “Shit.” The curse spewed from your mouth as you instinctively reacted to the accidental slip of your fingers, and then your heart froze. You hadn’t wanted to make a noise, however now it was too late, and all you could do was hope that Calum and Luke had been oblivious to the sound of your voice.
“Y/n?” Calum cautiously enquired on your presence, the sound of his foot falls nearing closer and closer to your solitary destination, and instinctively you held your breath, not wanting to give your accidental agenda away to the bassist or the lead singer that had been discussing you and your status quo with each member. Softly the doll grey curtain of your bunk was pulled aside to reveal your embarrassed expression, Calum inquisitively staring down at you from the height of which he stood. A rosey warmth bruised the high points of your face as there was no doubt that your deposited hearing had been noticed, and so had the joint that you had configured. Cal plucked it up off the carpeted ground as he smirked at the circumstances that you were under, and thus with his sweet brown eyes he convinced you to crawl out of your bed, his large and tanned hand guiding you from the placement of your lower back.
He lead you into the entrance living space of the bus, where Luke was nervously planted, rubbing his painted fingernails gently along his bottom lip and diffusing his instinct to chew on them. With his cobalt eyes he sent harmless daggers towards you, his long legs taking up a length of space on the floor, the opposing limb folded over the knee of his other, his ankle tapping the air as he awaited for the tension to break. “Oh Luke, calm down mate, y/n overheard everything but don’t worry, I could see when she slipped down from her bed ho wet her pretty pink panties were. Isn’t that right sweetie?” Cal squeezed your ass which was facing him, the flirtatious notion making you jump in the oversized shirt you wore; he was embarrassing you in front of Luke, but the other man seemed shy to the appeal that was ongoing before his eyes. “Come on girl, tell Lukey that it was all for him. Tell him that he made you all wet, you could even show him how soaking your pussy is underneath that layer of cotton.”
A whine slithered out from your submissive throat, you felt vulnerable and the butt of the joke that Calum was telling, without the intention of a pun, but admittedly you were loving every second of it. But it wasn’t just Luke that had caused a sweet and slick river to flow between your legs, which was strange considering that he was the one that you liked. The way in which Calum degraded you before him though had you riled up, needy and desperate for someone to touch you, and it didn’t matter which one of them did it. “Y/n…” Luke spoke your name so delicately, there being a a quiet innocence behind his tone. Immediately your head snapped up to ogle at the man, an alert and doe eyed detriment reflecting in your hungry expression. You were all too focused on the blond so that you were late to notice how Cal veered closer to your sexually appealing form, his hand slipping upwards on the back of your thigh, rising up to the centre of all of your desires over the thin cotton that protected your vulnerability from seething eyes that intended to pry at your most intimate parts.
He continued his sly yet indiscreet movements until the pads of his thick fingers were callously prompting across your lightly clothed bundle of nerves, causing staggered breaths from leaving your mouth. It was difficult to focus on only the pleasurable feeling that Calum was making you feel, as Luke’s wide eyes were ogling at your glowing form, his pupils flickering from between your blushing face and where Calum was attending to tease the both of you. He was provoking his band mate, luring him into finally make a move, however he had yet to grow the courage to do so. Luke was in a conflict with his own mind and what his pants desired, he chewed stagnantly on his lip awaiting for the impulse to do something kick in. “Aw Y/N, did you hear him say your name sweetie?” The bassist teased you, withdrawing his hand from toying with you which made you whine from the extraction. He leant his mouth right by your ear, and whispered into it, “wouldn’t it sound better if he moaned it?” And you believed it, and you were even wetter from simply imagining it.
It was as though Calum were hypnotising you, and without your own will to do so, your feet fell in footsteps closer to where Luke was seated, and you succumbed to the cushions of your knees, staring up at the man that you lusted after as Calum stood as your shadow and brushed his fingers through your hair. The notion was a gentle one, until he gave it a harsh tug which hitched your throat back so that you were looking into his dark eyes. “I’ve made you feel good Y/N/N, now why don’t you do the same for our friend?” He was pushing you, convincing you to pleasure the god like adonis whose knees were resting against your collarbones, and you were easily sold. And thus you unbuckled his belt and loosened the tightness until you could slip the leather material out from the loops, feeding the teeth of his flyer to your hands. Without any haste you pulled the zip down, and tugged the tight denim from his upper legs, only to discover that he had opted to go commando that morning.
And by gosh you were enamoured with the sight that was in your face; he was erect and wantonly weeping from his tip for attention, and you weren’t going to deny his famine. And thus you engulfed the head of Luke’s large and veined cock into your mouth, greedily humming from the warmth of skin that filled your mouth. “Oh fuck Y/N!” Luke gasped, his mouth gaping open as he tried to ground his pleasure, and he tousled your hair in his hand. “Fuck, your mouth feels so good.” Each word that he spoke only gaged you to attempt to bring more of his length into your mouth, choking from your efforts. And you only choked more as you felt another pressure again on the back of your head, enforcing you to take more down your throat even though your survival instincts tried to reject the intrusion. “Such a good girl, making our Luke feel good. And you can always make him feel good now you know how he feels about you Y/N/N. This cock is yours to suck, this big fat cock that’s making your eyes water.”
Luke moaned simultaneously alongside you from Calum’s dirty words, the sound of your gagging and Luke’s light and vocalised moans being the distinct sound that filled the room in the tour bus. There was a tight feeling that was pulling from the insides of Luke’s balls, he was getting extremely close and he shocked the both of you when you unexpectedly pulled your lips away from his cock to get air, as ropes and ropes of his white seed decorated your face, the warmth of the liquid bringing you a sense of fulfilment and gratified euphoria. For a moment it felt like it was only you and Luke, taking turns to exhale heavily as you came to grips that this wasn’t just a dream, it was a reality. A hot, dirty and sweaty reality. However everything hit you when Calum released his hand from your head, his voice filling your ears intermittently. “Looking good Y/N. And my work here is done…’ Calum joked, metaphorically dusting off his hands from the gruel that he had to cause to finally bring both you an Luke together.
He slowly vacated the room with little words more to say, leaving you and Luke in your own comforting isolation. “So…?” Luke laughed with the emission from his lungs, stroking your hair away from his cum that still covered your face. “So…” He repeated back to you, a content and calm smile endorsing his features. “Do you want to maybe be my girlfriend? I’ve liked you for a long time, and I never had the guts to say something until, well, this.” You reciprocated his smile, tentatively nodding and forgetting all about the joint that you had been rolling, maybe you wouldn’t need it to feel at peace tonight, because Calum with his sexual interference had helped you come to it. “Okay, we can discuss the details of our first date after we get cleaned up. Fancy a shower?” He teased yet endorsed your interest, and soon the pair of you were off to the small and confined bathroom to get ‘cleaned up’ as boyfriend and girlfriend.
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andydrysdalerogers · 7 months
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Under the Hood 
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Dark! Mechanic Steve Rogers x F!Reader 
A broken car, a handsome hero. Nothing but a spark between you. If only you knew... 
Song: Tainted Love by Soft Cell
Word Count: ~ 2.7K
Warning: 18+ only! SMUT!, drugging, dub-con, degradation, oral (f-receiving), dark! Steve Rogers 
Mood board by: @georgiapeach30513
Dividers by @firefly-graphics
A/N: This came from the mood board challenge game that @georgiapeach30513 hosted a few weeks ago. I spun the wheels and have been pushed out of my comfort zone. My spins were Mechanic Steve Rogers, degradation and drugging.  Please heed the warnings below.   
As this is an out of my comfort zone fic, feedback would be appreciated but being mean or rude comments will not be tolerated and you will be promptly blocked. 
Doing my normal taglist at the bottom. Please let me know if you want to be removed.
Main Master List
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Climbing down the steps of your building, your smile is big as you look forward to your day. Being an art teacher was fun, especially with the younger children.  As you climbed in your vehicle, you couldn’t help but sigh. Today was going to be a great day.  
But then, your car wouldn’t start.  
“C’mon,” you muttered. Your smile fell. This was an older car for sure, but it wasn’t that old.  You got out and popped the hood. Not seeing anything out of place. You tossed your head back and sighed.  So much for it being a great day.  
“Need some help?” 
You jumped and whipped around to the voice behind you.  A man, a gorgeous man stood behind you, a rag wiping grease from his hands.  You eyed him, up and down.  Blonde hair, blue eyes, scruff around his chiseled jaw, white, dirty shirt that was fitted to a narrow waist and tone legs wrapped in jeans. Motorcycle boots finished the look and you managed to look back up at the Adonis standing in front of you.  You swallow, “my car won’t start.”  
“I can see that.  Can I look?” He smiled but you hesitated.  “My name is Steve and I work at the garage.”  He pointed to the garage, Barnes Automotive. It had been a staple in the neighborhood for years.  
“Sure.”  You stepped aside, smoothing out your dress as Steve ducked his head under the hood.  You chewed your lip as he fiddled with the engine.  
“Looks like there are a couple of problems, sweetheart. Gonna take a few weeks to repair.” He looked at you as he cleaned his hands.  
“No,” you whispered. Tears began to flood your eyes.  What were you going to do? You had to get to work and now you were stuck.  
“You ok?” 
“No,” you repeated, louder this time.  “I don’t know a lot of people in this town and I’m not sure how I’ll get to work and stuff.” You sniffed, trying to keep the tears at bay.  
“Well, I can give you a ride,” Steve offered. “I’m at the garage early and I can step out to take you and pick you up. We’re neighbors after all.”  
“Oh, I couldn’t impose.”  
“My mama would whoop my ass if I left a lady all alone, stranded.  Promise, I don’t bite.” He smiled again and you melted. There was nothing wrong with accepting help.  “C’mon sweetheart, what do say?” 
And it started.  Every day, Steve would give you a ride in his classic black Mustang and pick you up every night. You would chat the five or so miles every day. He had coffee ready for you, once he learned of your preferences.  He was charming and sweet.  
And every day, you fell, more and more.  
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Steve was falling in love.  
Well, to be honest, he had been in love with you for months.  When he first saw you, you were moving into the neighborhood.  You were beautiful, your hair swept up in a bun at the top of your head with a glitter headband that made him think you had a halo. Jean short that hugged your ass as your shirt was knotted at the waist. Just the sight of you made his dick twitch, your hair, skin, clothes, everything made his blood sing.  
“I need to know her,” he told his best friend, Bucky.  
Bucky whistled, “she is a dime. What’s your plan?” 
“Get to know her. However way I can.” Steve smirked and walked away, putting his plan into motion.  
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About six weeks into the repairs, you needed a mental health day.  You sent a text to Steve to let him know that you were staying home.  
You: I’m sorry, I need a rest day, not going to work 
Steve: everything ok? 
You: yeah, I'm just needed a break. Going to veg on the couch 
You: I’ll miss your coffee tho 
You got no response to that last message.  Frowning, you went to make your own cup when there was a knock on the door.  Curious, you looked through the peephole and smiled.  “Steve, what are you doing here?” 
“I didn’t want you to miss your cup of coffee.” He held out the travel mug to you, the special one he bought especially after mixing up the cups once before.  
“Oh, you didn’t have to be so sweet,” you swooned. You took the cup and took a sip. “So good.”  
Steve grinned; “I added some cinnamon to the coffee.” 
“God, my own personal barista.” You gave him a big smile. “You want to come in?” 
“Sure, if that’s ok.”  
“It is. I’m just taking a me day today. Veg out, you know.”  
Steve frowned. “Veg out?” 
“Lay like broccoli.” You giggled.  “It's from a movie. Pretty Woman?” 
“Never seen it.”  
Your jaw dropped. “Steve! How could you have gone through life without seeing Pretty Woman. Rich guy meets hooker, and they make an arrangement to help him.  But before she gets paid, she falls in love.” You clutch your hands to your chest. “And then the guy chases after her to tell her he loves her too.”  
“Sweetheart, I’m a guy. We don’t watch movies like that.”  
“Well, you will today.” You took his hand and tugged him to the couch. You sat down next to him and pulled your blanket over your legs.  
“Sweetheart...” 
“Nope. I need to educate you.” You flipped on the movie and reached for your coffee to sip.  As the movie started, you snuggled closer to Steve, the warmth of his body drawing you in. The smell of the coffee, his cologne mixed with his natural scent was an aphrodisiac. You sighed when he put his arm around behind you.  
Steve ran his long fingers over your skin, fluttering along the now sensitive flesh on your arm. Suddenly, you wanted to be closer. You scooted right next to him and laid your head on his shoulder as he dropped his arm around your waist.  His fingers now played with the strip of flesh that was exposed from your shirt riding up.  
“Steve,” you whispered.  
“Yeah baby, this ok?” 
You turned your head up to look up at him. He could see your pupils were blown, desire and lust filled them that all he could see was black. He smirks as he trails his finger down your cheek and watches as your eyes close from the sensation. “Open them,” he growls. You blink your eyes open to see the positively feral look in his eyes. “Mine.” And he kisses you.  
It’s everything you didn’t expect but everything you dreamed of. His lips are soft, but they kiss you rough and needy. You’re needy. You shift or he shifts you, you’re not exactly sure but now you’re in his lap, straddling him, your hands on his face to hold him to you, his arms around your hips. You pulled back to breathe. “Steve,” you mumbled.  
“You like this, don’t you baby girl. Rubbing yourself on me like a little slut.” He pulled you back in and rocked your hips back and forth on his lap.  Your thin cotton shorts allowed him to feel how hot your pussy was, and it left nothing to the imagination.  The friction on your pussy from his erection pushing up through his jeans was mind-blowing.  
Desire flooded your blood, his words setting you on fire. “Fuck, Steve,” you moaned as your hips began to move on their own.  
“That’s it, grind on my cock. Fucking slut.” Steve assaulted your neck and shoulders, moving your shirt out of the way.  “Fuck this,” he yanked the shirt off of your body, grinning at the fact that you had no bra on. “God damn, these tits are just made to be sucked on.”  
“Yes, please,” you moaned. Your mind was spiraling; you’ve never been so turned on. It borderline hurt, the need to have Steve touch you, taste you, fill you.  God, you needed Steve to fuck you, like yesterday.  
Steve chuckles darkly at your neediness. “I’m going to destroy this pussy soon enough baby.” When you whined louder, he grinned. “You like that, don’t you, you dirty whore. You want me to wreck this body.” You nodded and Steve flipped you onto the couch, so he hovered on top. He rolled his hips against you, and you shuddered at his hard length pressing into you. “How long has it been, hmm?” 
You went silent, embarrassed at how long it had been since you had been with a man. Lust was overcoming your senses, but you resisted answering him.  
“It's been that long, huh?” Steve chuckled as he took a nipple into his mouth. Your back arched, relishing the feeling of his hot mouth on you.  
“S-steve, fuck, please!” 
“Oh, beg for me, slut, beg for what you want. Fucking brat can’t wait, can she? Maybe I’ll choke you on my cock so I can see your lips wrapped around me.”  You keened at the suggestion and Steve’s jaw dropped for a second before pulling himself off of you and moving you to your knees. “Open, fucking cock tease and choke on me.”  
You didn’t hesitate, wait, why didn’t you hesitate? Your mind was in a daze of lust and yearning.  
And Steve knew.  
He knew why you didn’t hesitate.  For once, John Walker had been proven useful. “Just a drop,” he said, “in her drink and she becomes putty in your hands.”  And the six weeks of spending time together in the car had put your guard down. So trusting, so innocent, so … his.  
The first touch of your lips on his cock was like lighting up his spine. “Fuck, that mouth is hot,” he moaned as you bobbed on the tip. You weren't sure if you could take all of Steve. He was the largest you had ever seen or been with. Steve threaded his hand into your hair and pushed you deeper onto him.  “I said to choke, you stupid slut. I want my dick to be imprinted on your throat.” His other hand grabbed at your neck and squeezed just enough to feel his cock. “That’s it, my little slut.”  
You gagged as his cock punched your throat. Tears mixed your saliva as you took as much of Steve as you could. The man was at least nine inches of solid, velveting man and just feeling every ridge made yor core tingle in delight.  
Before Steve could release, he pulled back. “No, I want to cum inside this pussy.” He lifted you off the floor and into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist.  His cock was nestled in between you and you could feel it pulsing, wanting to release and fill you with his warmth. “I wanna watch my cum leak out of your gaping, stretched out hole so I can push it back into it.” You shuddered at his words. Steve chuckled.  You like that, hmm? He throws you on the bed and reaches for your sleep shorts.  Not even fighting me. Horny bitch. He rips the rest of your clothes away and you squeak at the force.  
He latches on to a nipple and your back arches as he bites and tugs on the peak. “St-st-steve,” you wail as he continues to lavish attention. 
“Beg for it, slut. Beg me to fuck you hard. Beg for my cock to fill you up and leave my seed I your womb, fucking cock drunk whore.” You cry as he sinks down as pulls your clit between his teeth. “Knew you were cock drunk when you can’t even beg.  Beg, dammit! Beg or I won’t give you want you want! God damn slut! Bet you just prance around like a goddam tease for all of the other guys in the neighborhood.  Bet you have a line so they can just use you.” His big hand covered your throat.  
This snaps you out of your daze, grabbing onto his wrist.  “No! No I don’t. I’m not a whore!” 
“Yes, you are, slut. Wasted no time letting me in here. Am I the first?” He scoffed.  “I doubt it.”  
“No! No! Just you, only you, Stevie, just you!” You cried as Steve held your throat tighter. “Only want you,” you whispered as the air flow began to dwindle.  
Steve felt your hand begin to loosen from his wrist and he let go of the pressure.  You gasped and he pushed hard into your tight heat. “Fuuuuuck,” he moaned, feeling you wrapped around him.  
You tried to make a noise at the intrusion, pain screaming through your body.  But your brain, well your brain enjoyed the pain. It wanted to Steve’s cock to wreck your body but had no idea why. You just needed him and the pain was worth the pleasure you were feeling now.  Steve withdrew and you whimpered at the slight loss.  He chuckled. “Needy cock slut.” He slammed back into you, and you found your voice, screaming.  
He kept the pace, pounding into you as his filthy words penetrating the air. His cock was so deep, you swore it was in your stomach at this point. His pubic hair was brushing along your clit, sending zings through your core, causing you to clench around him.  
“Oh fuck, this pussy is gripping me so tight. Wanna cum, slut? Use your words.”  
“Pl-please!” 
“Words, fucking cunt. Use. Your. WORDS!” He punctuated each word with a thrust into you.  
“Please let me cum!” You screamed as the pleasure was reaching its point.  
“CUM!” 
He roared as he pinched your clit.  
It was like lighting through you.  You pulsed and exploded, squeezing his cock so hard, he couldn’t move. “That’s it, fuck, Such a good little whore.” The tension in your body eased and you were pliant under Steve.  He continued to move, thrusting to meet his end. You cried out from oversensitivity.  
“Can’t,” you cried.  
“Oh yes you can.” Steve kissed you hard until you were bubbling underneath him, your body climbing again. “I need to fill this body with my cum. Fuck, gonna make you a mommy, little whore.”  
Why would he say that? You thanked God that you were on birth control but still his words, shit, his words were bringing your body to the brink again. “Steve,” you moaned.  
“Ready for another? Wanna be my cum drop, hmm? Let me fuck my baby into you?” Steve thrusted harder and harder. You cried out, his hips slamming into you. “That’s it, cum again. Let me fill this slutty pussy up.” One, two and you were gone, eyes rolling back as your body arched from the third explosive orgasm of the day.  “Fuck! Yes!” And with a thrust, Steve flooded your womb with his warmth.  He slowed his hips, dumping everything he had into you.  
He lay on top, his head in the crook of your neck, catching his breath.  You didn’t move and when he lifted his head, he smirked as he realized you were passed out under him. He pulled out and saw his cum starting to seep out. “Whoops, gotta keep the good stuff in there.”  He pushed his cum back into you.  
After grabbing a towel from your bathroom and cleaning you up, he went back to the living room and saw a couple of things had fallen from his jacket.  He saw the packet of pills, snorting at the thought of him switching out your birth control for the last few weeks. “A necessary evil,” he said to himself. Honestly, he wanted a family as soon as possible with you and hopefully this session took.  
The second item was more unusual, but it was the catalysis to start his dreams. The saying was that you just need a spark to start something wonderful. But really, you just needed a spark plug to get our engine going. Not that you were going to be going anywhere other than to his apartment to start your new life.  
He tsk at the thought. If only she knew to check under the hood more often. 
Ah well. Lesson learned. Future planned. Girl secured.   
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femininenachos · 8 months
Note
Do vacation clexa keep wells up all night when they go at it all night
Previously: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
The taxi ride is a test of restraint. 
It’s only a ten minute journey, but it’s ten minutes of Lexa sitting right there, looking like that. Lips made even poutier from kissing. Hair finger-tousled and swept to one side, and Clarke can’t wait to tangle her hands in it again, itching to touch. 
Even cast half in shadow, Lexa’s profile is downright rude, the cut of her jawline sharp enough to slice someone’s thighs. And when she turns dark, dark eyes on Clarke, that burning look scorches right through her. 
At this point her underwear is a lost cause. She’s in serious danger of leaving a damp patch on the back seat, more than a little paranoid that the scent of her arousal is wafting through to the front where the driver is absently tapping the steering wheel in time with the song on the radio. (Hips Don’t Lie—and in Clarke’s professional opinion, Ms Shakira is correct. Because Clarke can’t stop shifting hers incessantly, unable to ignore the wetness pooling between her thighs, clamped as tightly as they are together.)
She winds down the window, hoping a breeze will help, but the dense, warm air that rushes in does nothing to cool her body. Neither does the covert stroke of Lexa’s little finger along Clarke’s own where their hands lay flat on the seat between them, or the faint smirk that’s tucked into the corner of Lexa’s mouth.
Blessedly, there are no signs of life in the villa once they pull up. The place is dark and silent when Clarke unlocks the door and leads Lexa inside; Wells, nowhere to be seen. Clarke prays he’s fast asleep in his room with noise canceling headphones on, because she has a feeling things are going to get… vocal. 
She toes off her shoes, grateful for the cool marble floor tiles beneath her bare soles.
“I’d give you the tour, but uh…”
A gentle tug on her wrist draws her around, and whatever glib thing Clarke was going to say dies in her throat. Mind gone blank, because Lexa is all up in her space and a mouth that was surely designed for sin is less than an inch away, so close Clarke feels the soft fan of breath on her face.
She only gets a second to admire the tiny freckle that adorns Lexa’s top lip before Lexa tilts in. Slides a hand along Clarke’s jaw and into her hair. Kisses her slow and searching in a way that makes her tremble from head to toe, a gradual build of passion that floods her body with waves of tingling warmth. 
While she could easily indulge in this for hours, she also craves so much more, and now is not the time for subtlety. 
Taking the initiative, Clarke guides Lexa’s free hand to her inner thigh and presses meaningfully, hoping Lexa will take the hint.
And, thank God, she does.
Long fingers trail up and up. 
When they brush against drenched cotton, Lexa’s sharp inhale sends a hot flare up through Clarke’s belly and she feels herself drip some more. 
Lexa breathes out, a half-formed whisper in the shape of Clarke’s name on her lips. She pulls away slightly to look at Clarke, hooded eyes scanning her face before they drop to her mouth.
“Can I touch you?” Lexa asks, her accent grown thicker, coated with desire.
Clarke’s only answer is to take hold of Lexa’s nape and drag her mouth back to hers. She runs her tongue along Lexa’s lower lip then licks inside, a groan catching in the back of Clarke’s throat when a thumb traces her through her underwear, rolling over her clit.
For a second, she thinks she might come from that alone. Feels it rushing up on her fast. All it would take is a little more sustained pressure. A few firm, circular strokes. But Lexa shifts away, cupping Clarke instead, and she groans again—this time in frustration.
She feels the slow stretch of Lexa’s grin as they kiss.
It‘s a provocation—and Clarke never backs down from a challenge. 
Ensnaring Lexa’s bottom lip, Clarke scrapes her teeth over the plump fullness of it. She relishes the hitch of Lexa’s breath, how Lexa’s fingers flex against the flimsy scrap of fabric that separates them. 
“Go ahead. Touch me. Put your hand inside my panties,” Clarke whispers, even as her face grows hotter and some small part of her squirms at the brazen words coming out of her own mouth. But she quiets that voice. Draws on her inner sex vixen. “Feel how wet I am for you.”
She punctuates it with a roll of her hips. 
A slight tremor goes through Lexa.
She kisses harder, rougher, the heel of her hand rubbing in to meet an urgent grind and before Clarke is prepared for it, she’s already shaking apart, releasing a choked whine into Lexa’s open mouth.
Her wrist slows to a stop. 
She draws back half an inch, eyebrows raised.
“Guess I couldn’t wait,” Clarke says with a small, breathless chuckle. Her cheeks burn.
Lexa just makes a sound, words apparently failing her, but Clarke understands, because she feels that same brain-melting lust too. It isn’t just Lexa’s good looks that are such a turn on (though she is beautiful—even more so with her mouth swollen and wet). She has this understated presence, an aura that surrounds her. Innate magnetism that draws you in. Clarke noticed it at the bar, the way Lexa’s friends seemed to be caught in her orbit. It’s the confidence she projects, too. Or did. Clarke is pleased to see Lexa lose a little of that cool now, eyes wide and jaw hanging slack.
But she swiftly recovers, luring Clarke back in for a kiss by the grip on her neck. 
Just before their lips reconnect, Lexa pauses. 
She looks over Clarke’s shoulder, a speculative gleam in her eyes.
“You have a jacuzzi?”
~*~
They’re incapable of keeping their lips to themselves while they wait for the hot tub to fill. Clarke’s stomach won’t stop fluttering. Every nerve in her body is tingling, charged by the heat and pressure of Lexa’s mouth moving hungrily against her own. Lit up inside by the way Lexa’s hand is curved around her jaw, the other gripping her waist to keep her close, how Lexa sighs and fucking pouts every time Clarke starts to pull away. And how can she possibly resist that? She’s powerless not to give in.
It’s only once the tub is almost overflowing that Clarke suddenly finds the presence of mind to separate, hurrying across the courtyard to shut off the water supply and turn on the bubble jets. She injects a little more seductive appeal in the sway of her hips on her return.
“Would you like a drink? The fridge is pretty well stocked. We’ve got beer, wine, all kinds of mixers if you’d like something stronger.”
Lexa shakes her head. “I don’t want to have…” she pauses, clearly searching for a phrase in translation, “brain fog? Ah, fuzzy memories.”
Clarke drifts closer, curbing a smile.
“I don’t want to be hazy on the details either.”
She doesn’t want to forget a single thing about this night, not when it’s going to figure prominently in her fantasies for the rest of the year.
(The rest of your damn life. Be real, girl.)
Lexa’s eyes raking up and down her body with intent is already locked into her memory.
Once she’s within arm's reach, Lexa snags Clarke by the waist again and draws her near. Their hips bump gently and Clarke leans in to taste the slight smirk that sits on Lexa’s lips, just because she can.
Things intesifiy quickly, and before long their hands start to wander, Clarke feeling her way to the hem of Lexa’s t-shirt. She pulls it up and off, both smiling when it gets caught in Lexa’s hair, only for Clarke to suck in a quiet breath as soon as she registers Lexa isn’t wearing a bra. Her eyes drift, taking in the expanse of Lexa’s sun-bronzed skin, tits the exact same golden shade as the rest of her, and Clarke absently licks her lips, wanting nothing more than to have those perfect pink nipples in her mouth.
She also gets her first full look at the tattoo that spans most of Lexa’s upper arm. 
Fascinated, Clarke lets her fingers trace the swirls and lines of black ink, three symmetrical bands stacked on top of one another. The design reminds her of the intricate carvings at the top of the crumbling stone columns that she saw dozens of pictures of online when she was researching accommodation options, remnants of the ruined temple that occupies the highest point of the island, only a couple hours’ hike from here, according to the Airbnb listing.
“This is beautiful. What does it mean?”
Lexa peers down at her arm. “It represents each generation of my family in Polis. My great-grandfather was born in a small village called Trikru on the mainland. He was only nineteen when he left his home, everyone he knew, and came here to make a better life.”
She lifts her chin as she speaks, a note of pride in her voice. “He built the taverna from nothing nearly a century ago, and it’s still standing today, passed down through our family.”
“The legacy continues. That’s wonderful.”
“Mm. Now my half-sister manages the place.”
“Not your parents?”
“They’re retired, but they still help out during the busy summer months.” She purses her lips. “Sometimes I think the power goes to Anya’s head. She enjoys bossing me around too much.”
Clarke smiles to herself. “I’m going to take a wild guess that she’s the older sibling?”
“By seven years. She says she’s preparing me to take over eventually.” Lexa sighs. A slight frown appears on her brow as her jaw shifts. “Duty and tradition is everything to her, but I have dreams of my own.”
Clarke runs her fingertips lightly over the patterns on Lexa’s skin, feeling goosebumps rise to the surface. “What do you want to do instead?”
A shrug. “Travel. See the world. Experience other cultures and far-away places.” She looks at Clarke, rolling her eyes a little. “I know, it’s a cliché.”
“Well… if you ever find yourself in Washington DC, look me up. I’d show you around the city.” 
It’s half tongue in cheek, but the way Lexa studies her for a beat, so solemn yet clearly unconvinced, Clarke finds herself saying, “I’m serious. You should visit. My work schedule is crazy but if I can wangle some time off, I’d be happy to play tour guide. Plus, I have a guest room.”
Another of those minimal smiles touches Lexa’s lips, her mouth just barely pulling to the side. “We wouldn’t be sleeping together?”
Suddenly coy, Clarke lowers her gaze. Eyes on Lexa’s ink once more as she feels herself flush again. “I mean...” She catches her bottom lip between her teeth and looks up through her lashes. “I could be persuaded to share my bed.”
“Yes?”
She nods. Whispers, “yeah” before the distance between them vanishes and they’re back to kissing. Hands gripping, running up and down, moving restlessly over dips and curves, and Clarke can’t control her shivers, a current buzzing through her, a million tiny sparks going off under her skin. 
Lexa palms at her breasts and the chafe of satin bra cups against Clarke’s nipples is enough for a moan to slip out between the seal of their mouths. 
A minute later she’s gasping hotly, “take off my dress” before recapturing Lexa’s lips, driven by the overwhelming need to feel skin on skin at last.
Nodding once, never ceasing contact, Lexa peels the straps from Clarke’s shoulders. She locates the zip at the back and drags it down smoothly. Tugs, and Clarke feels the dress slip from her body to puddle at her feet. The bra is next to go, unhooked with consummate ease. Warm hands move over her hips and waist, gliding up her ribs to take hold of her tits again. This time it’s Lexa who makes a sound, a low, throaty groan that only adds to the flood in Clarke’s underwear. 
They tip their foreheads together, breathing heavily as they watch one another, eyelids at half mast. Without a word, Clarke reaches for the button at the waistband of Lexa’s cut-offs, but the thumbs slowly circling her nipples make her far less dexterous than she should for all her surgical training. Finally, she pops the button and gets the fly open. It’s a joint effort to wiggle the tight denim down Lexa’s hips, taking her underwear along with the shorts, all smiles when she kicks them off to the side.
Clarke only gets a brief glimpse down Lexa’s body before she’s drawn back in by the cheeks for a greedy, open-mouthed kiss. As if she wasn’t already painfully aroused by everything else, the subtle definition of abs, the flare of wide hips, and the uninterrupted view of those legs pours further fuel onto the fire. Like an unstoppable force, Clarke pursues Lexa’s mouth relentlessly, recklessly, the forward momentum driving them across the courtyard until Lexa’s back meets the nearest vertical surface.
Unfortunately, it happens to be a vine-covered trellis and Lexa lets out a muffled yelp, wincing when something jags her bare skin. 
Twin puffs of air hit their cheeks, expelled through their nostrils, before they each dissolve into quiet chuckles, the absurdity not lost on either of them.
“Sorry,” Clarke says through a slight grimace, running a soothing hand down Lexa’s spine.
“Don’t be.”
Lexa is smiling, but Clarke still dies a little inside, already imagining Octavia’s reaction when she hears about this during their inevitable overanalysis of the entire evening at brunch. 
She takes a deep breath. “So…” Followed by a short laugh. “Where were we?”
Lexa inclines her head towards the hot tub, teeth dug into her lower lip.
And just like that, the awkwardness is forgotten.
Not taking her eyes off Lexa’s, Clarke needs no further instruction, pushing her panties all the way down and stepping out of them. Her heart is racing, but she holds still under Lexa’s appraisal, a flash of heat surging over her when that dark gaze settles low for a stretch of seconds and Lexa swallows, lips parting soundlessly on an exhale. 
And while she stands there on display without a stitch on, Clarke is really fucking glad she went ahead with that appointment to tame her bikini line, however painful it was getting waxed within an inch of her life. 
The ordeal was worth it for the spell she seems to have cast over Lexa. 
Not that Clarke isn’t equally entranced, legs and hips and breasts and that gorgeous face all competing for her attention.
She moves on instinct, curling a hand around Lexa’s neck and slanting their mouths together again. Barefoot, they’re of a similar height, and there’s something so exhilarating about the way their lips and bodies meld. Clarke can’t contain a string of tiny halting whimpers as they trade deep kisses, hyper-aware of every point of contact, from the skim of hard nipples to the brush of their thighs to the press of Lexa’s fingers at the base of her spine, sliding lower to grab at her ass, raising another desperate groan.
God, if this is what handsy making out with Lexa does to her, Clarke doesn’t know how she’ll survive once they dispense with foreplay and get down in earnest. At this rate, she might be flying home in a casket.
It doesn’t help matters when Lexa’s mouth strays, trailing along the underside of Clarke’s jaw, sucking shallow kisses down her throat to find that sensitive spot where neck meets shoulder. Already weakened, Clarke’s knees nearly give way to feel the nip of teeth there.
Somehow, somehow she finds the willpower to slip out of Lexa’s grasp.
Worth it for the reappearance of the pout, the flash of consternation on Lexa’s face as her eyebrows dip together.
But that pretty scowl is erased by a dark look of a different kind when Clarke climbs into the hot tub. Eyes blaze over her naked form with enough heat to rival the Mediterranean sun, and it gives her such a rush.
People have wanted her before; that’s nothing new. It comes with the territory, being blonde and in reasonably good shape (considering her questionable eating habits, constant state of fatigue, and general disdain for working out). She hasn’t gone through life oblivious to the attention. Frankly, she’s sick and tired of male patients, young and old alike, salivating over her like cartoon dogs during consults, eyes practically on stalks while they stare at her chest. And it’s truly wild how often she’s been hit on by visiting relatives moments after breaking the bad news about their loved ones.
Hell, it’s become a grim bonding ritual to compare horror stories with fellow residents during breaks or on the rare occasions when she allows them to drag her out to a bar after work.
This, the way Lexa looks at her, is worlds away from what basically amounts to workplace harassment. 
Lexa’s desire is a thrilling, palpable thing, a thick charge in the air that makes it difficult to think or breathe. 
Half dizzy with lust, Clarke sinks into the water and reclines against the tub, pulse accelerating as she watches Lexa put her hair up into a loose knot. Lips subtly curling at one corner. Nothing unsure or shy about her as she advances, and Clarke wishes she could bottle some of that supreme confidence for herself, because it doesn’t always come naturally.
Lexa takes the spot opposite, lowering herself into the tub. Drapes an arm along the edge and waits.
One look, the slightest twitch of an eyebrow is invitation enough.
Clarke pounces, propelling herself through the water to swing a leg over Lexa’s lap and reclaim her mouth. Fingers dig into Clarke’s hips, pulling her closer, their bellies and breasts flush. Cradling Lexa’s jaw in both hands, Clarke pushes her tongue past Lexa’s teeth, slipping inside to flick across the roof of her mouth, revelling in the whimper it earns her, how Lexa’s grip tightens as the kiss turns greedier. Hot and wet and dirty enough for Clarke to start to grind her hips in search of friction. Already on course for a second orgasm when Lexa hasn’t even fully fingered her yet. Just the thought of this girl being knuckle deep, the reach of those long fingers, gets Clarke halfway there and she groans unabashedly. Kisses Lexa until they’re each short of breath, panting into the humid slice of air between their open mouths.
“Can I fuck you?” The hard ‘k’ hits Clarke’s lips in a hot puff and she shivers, despite the toasty temperature of the water churning all around her, steam rising off the surface.
She holds back a quip (it’s like you read my mind), sensing Lexa is serious about asking for permission by the way she searches her face so intently for any sign of hesitance, and Clarke melts a little to know that her comfort level and boundaries are at the forefront of Lexa’s mind, which is more than can be said for some of her past casual encounters.
“Yes,” Clarke says, leaving no room for doubt that they’re very much on the same page here, before she leans in to brush their lips together again. She makes a noise. Not lifting her mouth away, she adds in a heated tone, “God, I just need you inside me.”
It has the intended effect. Lexa surges into the next kiss with a ferocity that steals Clarke’s breath away and scrambles her brain. At Lexa’s silent urging and with a gentle squeeze of her hips, she’s repositioned so quickly that it’s kind of a blur how she came to be lifted up and sat on the edge of the hot tub with Lexa kneeling in the space between her legs.
“Is this okay?” Lexa asks, always checking in, and doing an impressive job of managing to keep her eyes up, showing far more restraint than Clarke would in Lexa’s place.
She has to remind herself to use words and not just shove Lexa’s perfect face into her crotch.
“More than okay.”
It’s automatic, how Clarke puts her arms out on either side to brace herself in anticipation. Held in thrall by the tilt of beestung lips as Lexa runs her palms along the tops of Clarke’s thighs and over her hips, dragging her that tiny bit closer, and Clarke doesn’t have the mental capacity to tamp down on a moan, beyond ready for this.
Green eyes dip down finally and Clarke sees that little smile falter. Lexa’s lips part, the tip of a pink tongue darting out to moisten them, and with it, the last of Clarke’s inhibitions fall away. 
She spreads her thighs wider, skin prickling all over as she feels the weight of Lexa’s stare, roaming freely now, voraciously taking in every inch on display.
When their eyes lock again, it sends a jolt through Clarke. A spike of need so sharp that her locked elbows wobble and she forgets to breathe for a second, hanging on Lexa’s every move as she leans in.
The eye contact, heavy and sustained, when she tastes Clarke for the first time, lashes flickering, a thick groan in Lexa’s throat that Clarke feels the vibrations of through her whole body—fuck, she nearly comes on the spot.
Helpless not to, she arches into it, biting down hard on her lip to stifle a moan as a warm, velvety soft tongue runs through her. 
A slow, deliberate lick around her entrance draws a whimper, Clarke shamelessly lifting her hips to ask for more only for Lexa’s hands to anchor her firmly in place. 
With Clarke at her mercy, Lexa uses the flat of her tongue, broad laps that make Clarke’s toes curl, slipping against the porcelain tub with a squeak. Lexa varies the pace and pattern, slowing down or speeding up to prevent Clarke from settling into a rhythm. Every little lick and swirl has her twisting and squirming, and a sob of frustration starts to build in her chest. 
But Lexa’s eyes are shut, lost in the bliss, a flush high on her cheeks. Mouth sliding over wet flesh, slick noises drowned out by the rumbling jacuzzi jets and the harsh, ragged breaths that Clarke expels into the night air.
She winds a hand into Lexa’s hair, nails scratching mindlessly against Lexa’s scalp as she works Clarke higher, drawing circles around her clit, the pressure in the pit of her stomach coiling tighter and tighter.
Sweat covers her skin and her calves tremble with the strain as she rocks forward, undulating against that mouth, chasing her release without a care for how desperate it might seem.
(It’s been six months without anything better than her own hand or a vibrator between her legs, so she’s willing to cut herself some slack.)
The hands curved around Clarke’s hips slide down, pushing her thighs even further apart, tearing a gasp from her. It feels like she’s being split wide open, exposed in a way that goes beyond mere nudity, but she trusts Lexa, finds safety and reassurance in the sweep of thumbs back and forth over the inside of her thighs as Lexa devours her.
She barely lasts another minute under the onslaught. Pushed so hard and fast over the edge that her jaw drops and a throaty moan flies out.
Every muscle in her body tightens, hips shooting up to hold herself against the firm press of Lexa’s tongue, suspended there for those glorious seconds of blinding pleasure that seem to stretch on and on. 
In her mind’s eye, Clarke pictures what this must look like: her neck tensed and head thrown back, giving herself over with complete abandon, and it only intensifies the feeling, the tremors working through her all the more forcefully.
And Lexa doesn’t relent.
She keeps on tonguing Clarke through the aftershocks, wringing out every last twitch and jerk until she can’t take any more, using her grip on Lexa’s wildly mussed locks to drag her mouth away, too overstimulated to endure another second or she might scream. 
Even so, Clarke shivers again once she catches sight of Lexa’s expression, the wetness shining on her lips and chin, pupils pushed to the outer edges, only a thin ring of green surrounding the void. She looks like she’s the one who just got eaten out expertly, and Clarke doesn’t know how to process that, not in her present state.
All she’s capable of doing is tugging on Lexa’s hair, urging her up, another low moan passing between them when she gets a taste of herself on Lexa’s lips, greedy for more.
They remain fused in deep, languid kisses. Just exploring each other’s mouths, keeping things at a low simmer, now and then turning up the heat to bring the sizzle back. Whenever a little more tongue is added to the mix, that molten, heavy feeling settles between Clarke’s thighs again and she attacks Lexa’s mouth with renewed vigour.
By the time they pull apart for a breather, Clarke’s lips are tingling and her backside is half numb from being perched on the edge of the tub for so long.
Still, their lips cling. A string of saliva connects them as she backs off, just far enough to murmur into the gap, “Could we take this inside? I can’t feel my ass anymore.”
Lexa’s eyes crinkle at the corners when she laughs and she gets this cute little crease above her top lip that Clarke could fixate on for days. 
As her gaze drifts around Lexa’s features, taking in the toothy smile and the sparkle in those big green eyes, Clarke’s heart thumps a little harder, a little faster, and she thinks: damn, I could really fall for you.
Without a doubt, it’s the flood of oxytocin in her system talking, but that half-formed thought causes an instant adrenaline spike, kicking up her pulse and drying out her mouth. 
She blinks and glances down, biting her tongue before she blurts out something far too recklessly vulnerable when they only just met tonight and she doesn’t even know Lexa’s last name, much less her views on long distance.
It’s safer to steer this back to sex. That’s why they’re here, after all. There’s no sense in deluding herself otherwise when she’ll be gone in two weeks and Lexa will have already moved on to the next girl that catches her eye.
So Clarke pushes all other thoughts aside and lets her palms slide down to cup Lexa’s breasts, pleased when Lexa pushes into her grasp and they both let out a small, grateful sigh.
Oh, yeah, this she can do with certainty.
“Anyway,” Clarke gives a slow knead, rewarded by Lexa’s hitch of breath. Hard nipples poke into the centre of her palms. “I’m still waiting for you to follow through on your promise to fuck me.” Her voice dips lower. “Or are you all talk, Lexa?”
They share a blistering look.
Lexa’s eyes flash, a glint that says challenge accepted.
“I’m just getting started, Clarke.” 
She isn’t sure what’s more arousing, the arch, almost arrogant tone, accompanied by the flex of one eyebrow, or the sound of her name from Lexa’s mouth, wrapped in an accent that just oozes sensuality. 
Either way, she pretends to be unaffected.
“Oh, yeah?”
With a hum and a slow, minuscule nod, Lexa tips her head to nudge into another kiss, but Clarke evades it at the last second, fighting a smirk when she spies Lexa’s little pout. 
“Well, then.” Clarke brings her lips close to Lexa’s ear. “Show me how hard you can make me come.”
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starleska · 1 year
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I hope you had a lovely trip! Hopefully this doesnt seem too demanding, but do you have any jack horner headcanons you're willing to share? Romantic, perhaps even yandere/possessive? Or just general headcanons? If not thats perfectly okay!!!
d'aww thank you sweet anon, i had a great time!! although i am very sleepy now 😴 i'm not even gonna lie to you, i whiled away the train journeys by gazing out of the window and thinking up little meet-cute scenarios with Jack 😂😂
oh HELL yes!! don't you worry, that's not demanding in the slightest - i'd be happy to oblige 😉 honestly this has steered off more into backstory/total fanfic territory, but i hope you like it anyway. i’ve written this with a bit of a feminine-leading-nickname bias, but this is for all readers!! i’m nb myself 🥰 feel free to substitute certain names for others 🔥
'Big' Jack Horner x Reader romantic/yandere headcanons:
historically, Jack hasn’t had much interest in romantic dalliances. coming from an upper-class family with a great deal of wealth means he received plenty of offers even when he was young, from hopeful families wanting to marry into his lucrative business. however, Jack always found the suitors from these families dull and predictable; they knew exactly what to say and how to say it, and their compliance infuriated Jack to no end. 
as a result, throughout his teens and early twenties Jack mostly abstained from romantic connections. it was at this time that he began to increase in size: he shot up like a weed and bulked out enormously, which greatly increased interest from a variety of parties. this came alongside his succession to the head of his pie business, and the flourishing of his criminal empire. although Jack was propositioned left and right, he only engaged in the occasional date and/or lay, and considered them to be stress relief. 
as his obsession with collecting magical artefacts and increasing his power grew, Jack’s dim view of romance as nothing more than fairy tale junk - something he has come to abhor - solidifies into a type of confident nihilism. he believes that he is simply built different, and that truly powerful figures don’t concern themselves with such trivial matters. that is, of course, until he meets you. 
at first, Jack is horrified. first, he believes he has fallen ill; why is his heart beating so fast around you? why does he feel hot and sweaty and clammy all at once when you pop into his thoughts? this quickly descends into a type of paranoia: he is convinced that you must be some type of magical artisan, one who has cast a spell to drive him mad. we know Jack isn’t the patient type, so he confronts you, dragging you into his office and threatening you with the business end of the Huntsman’s Axe from the Little Red Riding Hood fairy tale.
rather than the reasonable reaction of terror and attempting to escape, you stammer and blush, almost hyperventilating at the proximity. he’s so much larger than you, and it takes everything you have not to melt into his arms. you manage to tell him that you find him impossibly charming, and just being around him makes you feel lighter. this takes a moment for Jack to process. he questions you repeatedly: “You find me attractive?” “Y-yes.” “You’d like to become an item? With me?” “Yes, sir.”
once he is certain that there is no trickery afoot, Jack is ecstatic with you. the full extent of his smarm and arrogance pour over in waves. Jack is not a man prone to embarrassment , and he makes no secret of your relationship whilst going about the daily business of running his criminal organisation and pie factory. he freely plays with your hair, rubs your shoulders and gives you kisses in full view of all his workers, much to your humiliation, but the way Jack looks at you with approval after every  teasing show of affection makes it all worth it. Jack’s staff even give you a  nickname: The Baker’s Wife. 
in no time at all, Jack becomes your fiercest protector. someone calls a rude comment to you in the street? they’re found the next day, strung up by their thumbs outside the village walls. a debt collector comes to harass you and your family? how interesting: they choke to death on a pie, overstuffed with plums. you soon find that members of The Baker’s Dozen are assigned to keep you safe: following you around his mansion and accompanying you outside without so much as a word. you try to question Jack about these events, knowing in your heart he is responsible, but the way he tells you, “No one hurts my princess,” makes your heart squeeze. indeed, day-to-day Jack treats you like royalty: only the finest garments, cuisine, and entertainment for the love of his life. 
however, in private, Jack lets his sadistic side shine. he is delighted by how easy you are to fluster: how a filthy whisper or a well-placed touch can make you tremble and squeak. he enjoys your size difference, playing with you as if you were a doll, and he chuckles darkly whenever you squirm. there’s nothing he loves more than pinning you against a wall with a blade, enacting the predator/prey dynamic he knows you enjoy so much. he leans in close and breathes into your ear, telling you how small and helpless you are, and how easy it would be to rip you apart. he relishes in making you beg to be touched, how much you crave his silver tongue and those awful, atrocity-stained hands. Jack tells you that you are his, forever, until the day you die: and that is something you love more than life itself. 
hope this is what you were looking for, anon 😉
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kikosaurscave · 1 year
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getting high with neteyam:
-unproffesionly use of weed
-kinda heated kissing
-remember that theyre young , high asf teens
-theres a part 3 bc i had a sudden gooder idea thats more age wise friendly
"cmon its not that far away" you whisper to the groaning boy who rubs his eyes, "y/n why in the middle of eclipse? can this not wait ?"
the look you gave him let him know your lack of patience. you js wanna get high ASAP
he walks closely next to you hand in hand to not seperate as you let the soft vibrance of the plants around you guide your way to what you craved the most for in the past 16 hours.
his fingers caress yours while you happily tell him about your current obsession "this plant , it is amazing ! and all we did was burn it ! you should have seen tsahik, talking to the walls of the peoples lab" you let out a laugh that he knows he adores. he could listen to you ramble about anything because he loves your voice
"i hope this is worth it" he grumbles to you, you rolls you eyes , excitement creeping up on you when you spot the enchanting plant of .pot
you tell him to gather the buds of the plants while you find a hooded area covered by the large bright leaves and glowing mushrooms and fruit , the spot big enough for about 5 of you to just chill out in and get smoke weed
you made the fire and by the time its lit neteyam reckons hes gathered enough , he thinks its been long enough seperated meters away from you but he js wants your presence
"throw some in nete , not to much" you smile up at him before watching as the glowing green buds spark in the orange heat , he watchesthe way the fire reflects in your __ eyes , the smoke isnt enough to distract him it just makes him want to focus on you more , just you
"it looks..cool. now what happens?" his honest confusion humors you, "come sit"
10 MINUTES IS HOW LONG IT TAKES FOR THE AREA TO FILL WITH THE FOG BEFORE YOU TWO CRAWL OUT FOR BETTER AIR
he cant tell if his laugh is louder in his head or if its just him , are you quiet ? or can you also see that bug on the tip of that leaf ?
hes def feeling it and its honestly amazing.
while yous r tripping you js keep telling eachother stories that you arent even sure are your own memories or not
you get anxieties when he goes quiet, you hear his harsh breaths from right beside you , his tail drags along yours and when you turn his way , its js immediate intense eye contact, this guy is tripping hard out.
"are you okay ?" you ask him, the worried look in your eyes js makes him fold, he moves a piece of your braided hair out of your face , tilting his head abit
staring into eachothers eyes while high js catches you both in a trance, to him your eyes glow in the different shades of the vibrant colours running around you both. the yellow coat of his irises could taint your view of all the different colours that surround pandora , there would be nothing as bright or as gorgeous as his eyes when the colour melts with yours.
"i want to kiss you" the statement is barely heard over the loud songs that the trees around you hum out , your curt nod has his hand holdinh the side of your head bringing you closer to him the other gently folding into yourown hand
the kiss is sloppy, full of feelings and passion, when you lean in and his arm moves to pull you closer, neither of you can get enough of the touch, you pull away for air but to him he js needs to feel you , suddenly your presence isnt enough like this is so rude to him js merge skins with him already- but hes gentle widit
he'll pull you closer while you both breathe heavily and he'll gently rub his hands up nd down ur back. hes never done this before, felt this before but a look into your eyes and the worry of being uncomfortable js disappears.
hands resting on either side of his face, you on his lap and his arms around your waist, both of you high as fuck
"lets go ride our ikran to ayram alusìng (floating mountains)"
youd race eachother there and suddenly you both feel like youre quieter than you really are, the day is soon and flying your ikran together feels like a dream, your body tingles as the air rushes over you body , you can both feel your smiles with your whole faces , atp you dont even bother tryna to be quiet when you return , neteyam is just a mess at this point and you wonder how he'll be able to continue his training today
unfortunately for you when you return to your tent your brother sits in front of the balazing fire, waiting for who knows how long
"tsmuke (sister) where were you ?"
is the first thing he askes you, he doesnt even ask if ur alright bro
"no where" "who were you with." "eylan (a friend) "how many? " "awpo (one individual)" "eve? evan? (girl? boy?)" "tute (a person)" "tupe. (who.)"
his voice is stern , the reflection of the fire in his eyes intimidate you , when he turns to look at you , you end up feeling cornered
"neteyam"
youre grounded from seeing him for until tsu'tey says so , you beg him to not tell toruk makto and he feels bad , the look his little sister gives him makes him feel like the worst person in the world so even though its unlike him to do so , he gives in and promises not to say anything
it wont matter in about a week though because the sky people are on hunt for the sullys , you wouldnt be able to see him for a while and it scares you
- end
ending is shit bc i kinda rushed the ending but it took longer than expected to write this , part 3 is coming
somewhat proofread
lmk what you think
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dc-fanfic-sideblog · 4 months
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So… I don’t really have an update on the costume designer reader, just some more little facts because I can’t help myself. None of this is in any sort of order. I’m treating Reader like a character for now in this post, i will eventually start to use “you” in place of “she/her/reader”
I’ve never really written x reader fanfiction before, so I’ll try my best to make it as inclusive as I can (while being a little self indulgent as a treat)
If y’all have any questions or maybe even requests then please send in an ask!! I want to practice writing!
Various DC characters x fem!reader
Reader is going to Gotham University on a full ride scholarship, but she doesn’t live in the dorms (if the Uni even has dorms because i can’t find any information on it) she has a shitty little apartment, basically a studio apartment because they’re a collage kid and can’t afford shit.
Every so often some small time villain will find their way onto the roof of their apartment building and reader is just chilling outside and she’ll ask “yo… do you have a costume yet?” And she may or may not design something for them or give criticism on whatever they’re already wearing
She asks Superman why he wears tights lol
SPEAKING OF SUPERMAN, i believe when reader goes off to Metropolis, Lois is all over her in like a mother hen kinda way. Giving tips on how to interview people, about asking good questions and keeping their interest
Clark is also there but after reader meets Superman she catches on almost immediately. Because hello, he’s just wearing glasses and fixing up his hair differently, what are the drinking in Metropolis?? (I’m heavily basing this Superman after the 1978 one because he’s so silly and pretty)
Batman/Bruce Wayne definitely has his dad instincts kicking in as soon as he hears about some college kid wanting to talk to VILLAINS that are in ARKHAM going to Gotham University on HIS FULL TERM SCHOLARSHIP.
Damien meets reader with Batman supervising him to make sure he’s not overly rude to reader, and Damien (as Robin) starts asking stuff like “why are you interviewing villains? Frankly that’s stupid and dangerous” and Bruce just scruffs him like a kitten and says goodbye lol
At some point I think Bruce meets reader as Bruce Wayne after one of her classes to be like “hey I’m the one giving you money so you can go to college. I heard about you talking to evil people and while I think that’s dangerous here’s a special ID to get into Arkham so you don’t get kidnapped by random villains on the street. Talk to these people while being supervised please”
His kids make the joke that he’s ready to adopt another kid, but he denies them just to let them freak out (he not gonna but he thinks it’s funny to mess with them like that every once in a while)
Jason follows reader as Red Hood when they’re going to Arkham for the first few months. The visits aren’t often because of classes and work, but they’re at least once a week.
Reader/you work as a work study for the theatre department, meaning reader has access to a lot of different materials and good strong sewing machines. There’s a pretty good sewing machine in the apartment but the university ones can handle thicker materials and can run for a lot longer
I’m kinda debating on including Morpheus/the Sandman just for funsies because I want to write him interacting with a slightly unhinged college student
Anyways that’s it for now, sorry I abandoned this account for so long lol but I’m back! (We’ll see how long that’ll last)
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